tagChain StoriesAbducted Ch. 06-07

Abducted Ch. 06-07


Chapter 6 "The Interrogation"

I must admit that I really, really enjoy the way Elizabeth reacts to my hand. It's almost a natural thing; somehow, I just 'know' when and where is the best place to torment her, torture her ... and get her 'off' at the same time. Problem is, sometimes, she seems to be enjoying it too much.

I do, too.


She bounces that little ass of hers up, after every lick. Can't help but see how perfectly formed and round and juicy it is! Then I rub my gloved hand over her cheeks. I can just about completely swallow up one cheek in just the palm of my hand. I know it's warm, and soothing after each *whack* I give her.

I can hear through her moans -- and I can feel with my fingers -- how much she likes it, despite herself.

But, I gotta make sure she knows, too, that this is serious business.

I sit Elizabeth back up against the wall, tossing my leg across her thighs, and rubbing myself against her. But, I also make sure to lay the flat of my short box-cutter blade against her flush red skin, letting her feel how cold and sharp it is. I tease the tip of the blade along her taut little buds.

I lick along her neck, and she turns away. Again, I force her head back to me: "We want the passwords, Elizabeth,", I say.

I feel her body tense -- I think it's from fear, but I also feel a touch of her passion. But, she seems to shake her head, little small shakes, as I apply the pressure ... and the 'pressure' ... against her body.

I'm thinking, this may be more delicate than we had believed. Most women would be scared to death to be tied up and sexually molested by three strange men, ... with more, yet to come. But, this time, this woman is excited by it!

Yes, this might be more delicate. "Chano, ... go pick us up something. I don't want Ms Elizabeth here to make us all rich on an empty stomach."

Chano smiles. "Oh, I get it, School. You want her all to yourself." He laughs as he heads out: "There's a chicken joint just up the way. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do!"

I think to myself, "That would be impossible."

Then, I turn my attention back to Elizabeth.

I remove my gloves, and begin to play with her.

Her body is like a ... like an instrument. She makes fine, erotic music as I strum along. My fingers lift her by her crotch from the mattress, yet, ... like a finely tuned violin, she responds. I am delicate with her, ... perhaps, I catch myself, too delicate.


She moans, and groans, ... and grinds against my fingers, now, almost desperately. "I want your password, Elizabeth."

I know I'm torturing her. I know that she wants to explode, terribly, desperately wants to explode. I know, because I do, too! I can feel how fat and thick my cock is inside my pants; I can feel her lips swelling, and the wetness on her panties, from the sweat and from her arousal.

I dip my fingertips toward her femininity, again, and she shudders. "I want your password, Elizabeth."


I play with her pubis, and I spank her ass, sharply; over and over, again, and again. Let's make a deal, my pretty one. Let's make the deal.

It needn't even have been said. It's the carrot, and the stick; pleasure and pain. Give me the password, Elizabeth. And, I'll fuck your brains out. I can be rich, ... and you'll get your release.

But why does she resist me?

Then I realize ... it's my own fault. My instinct got the better of me. My intent was to tease, not to please. But, I've gone too far. I begin to feel the quivering inside her, and her juices begin to flow over my fingers. Her nipples erect, and her breasts begin to ripple. I feel her twisting her hands inside my ropes, and grinding herself against my hands ... too late for me to stop her from reaching that point.

Besides, ... I'm quivering, and flexing, and throbbing myself, ...

In a moment, she climaxes. She squeezes her thighs around my fingers, and thrusts her hips up, and down, and up again, and she tenses, and thrusts...

... And, she explodes.

I have this urge to grab her, and to envelope her in my arms while she's spasming in pleasure.

But that wasn't the plan. And, then, childishly, almost, I become jealous: She's not gonna get away with cumming like that ... not without me!

I allow her to catch her breath, before I ask again: "We want the password, Elizabeth." And, with tiny little shakes of her head, once more, she refuses me.

I turn her over onto her stomach. That cute, perfect little teardrop bottom faces me, now, as I toss my leg over her body. Instantly, I feel my own 'instrument' begging ... no, demanding ... release.

I unzip my pants. I fish myself out of my boxers.

And, I lay my long, hard, fat, eager cock in the groove of Elizabeth's panty-clad buttocks.

I begin to stroke. She groans, and ... she lifts her ass upward, to meet me!

I grooooove myself between her cheeks, and moan ... and, she beckons with her fingers for me to come closer, so that she can tug on me, and help me to cum!

Moments later -- it seems like years, though, but it was mere moments -- I am grinding and grooving my hot, naked cock against her butt cheeks in rhythm, and she is tugging at the head of my shaft, and rising to meet my thrusts!

Slowly, but surely, I grind myself into her more deeply, more insistently, until I can feel the rise of the sticky seed inside me! Soon, I am pushing and pumping with the speed of a jackhammer ... and then, I am erupting, exploding ... blasting my warm, sticky fluid all over her!

I keep pushing, and thrusting, and stroking, and pumping my seed upon her nearly naked body. Over, and pumping, and again, and strooooking ... strooking ... stroking, until I've milked myself dry, on the back of her soaking blue panties.

I turn her over, and the fair-skinned Elizabeth's face is flushed red from the fear, or the exertion, or ... the excitement.

I wipe a bead of sweat off of my own brow. I look down at Elizabeth, and I chuckle. She's pretty wet, too, inside and out. Funny thing, I think, ... but I probably don't want her to catch her death of cold.

I leave her, still, basking in her glow, and still quite firmly tied up and helpless. I return shortly, with some damp washrags, and some dry towels. I turn her back over, and slice through her ropes. I toss her some towels, and tell her to wipe herself down.

She tries to turn it into a game!

"Could you do my back?" she asks coyly. Then, she turns that tight little bum with the tiny, wet blue panties to me.

What ... why is she still not scared to death? She's been forcibly kidnapped, tied up, gagged, and just barely this side of raped, so far, and ... she thinks this little ploy will make me let her go.

If I hadn't been expecting to get her password, and unlock the key to a half-million dollars, ... it might have worked.

And, if Chano hadn't gotten back with the food, ...

I chuckle, and give the kinky little hostage a big, fat >slaaaaaaap!< on her cute little ass.

"We'll eat, now," I tell her. "Then you're going to give me your password, Elizabeth.

"I promise you that."


Chapter 7 – Escape #1

We all eat the food with Mr. Brute spending the entire time staring at my nakedness. The lack of ropes to cover my bare skin has me exposed akin to a Carnivale dancer without the pasties to cover my nipples.

School excuses himself, as he wants to check something on the computer. He tells Mr. Brute to watch me, particularly since I am now untied.
I am now alone with this animal, however it seems that my series of orgasms may have cleared my head a little.
I feel that if I am going to have any change to escape, that I need do something about Mr. Brute.
School and Harry Potter are too smart to allow me to fool them, so I need to try something now.

As if on cue, Mr. Brute pulls his erect hose of throbbing flesh out of his pants and points it into my face.
I force myself to not think about him and what I am about to do, as I take a hold of his large protuberance with my hand and pull it towards my mouth.
He grins and says some crude remark like, "That's it, bitch. Suck it."
I slowly lick his huge helmet shaped head swirling my tongue over and under it, while I cup his immense coconuts with my other hand.
Mr. Brute closes his eyes and groans.
I am hoping that he is as quick a comer as I remembered the first time and following his large meal, I might have a chance for him to fall asleep.

I put him into my mouth desperately fighting my need to gag at the thought of what I am doing.
I place my tongue under the distinctive ridge of his erection and silently hum to vibrate it.

His reaction is immediate as he tries to push himself deeper into my throat and I feel the first spasm accompanied by a quick release of thick goo filling my mouth.
Thank goodness, he was has fast as I remembered or I might have choked on him.
I want to spit it out but compel myself to swallow.
The gag reflex is back, but I again fight it as another splash of male juice hits the back of my throat.
This time the volume is much less so I am able to allow his remaining spasms to play out without another large swallow.
I want to throw up, but know that I can't. I try not to think about it to calm my stomach, but with his meat still in my face it is easier said than done.
I pull my mouth off of him and use my hand to milk his organ until he is sated.

I am physically and mentally sick as he calls me "his little bitch" promising to let me have "another taste a little later."

The good news is that within 15 minutes Mr. Brute is sound asleep on the dirty mattress and I am silently making my way to the side door of the warehouse. I grab what remains of my dress and head for the nearest door.

I slowly crack the door and slip through making my way down the side of the building not exactly sure of where to go other than as far away as I can.
Although I am only wearing a pair of abused and teeny bikini panties along with my high heels, I am totally unaware of my nakedness as I move away from the brick and into the early evening.

I am free, but for how long?

I feel my body fill with remorse as I leave my perfect fantasy behind.
It is a very different kind of sensation to be sneaking down alleyways between warehouses looking for help and at the same time hoping that no one sees me.
The longer that I am away from my captors the more aware I have become that I am wearing nothing but a teeny pair of light blue panties and high heels, an outfit much more suitable for a Gentleman's Club or the bedroom.
I make a feeble attempt at tying my tattered dress around my chest providing me at least a small modicum of decency.
What became perfectly natural for me in front of three total strangers has me now feeling quite vulnerable and unprotected.

I turn a corner unexpectedly walking out of the protection of the high walls of the warehouses and find myself in what might loosely be called a neighborhood.
A group of 6 young men see me immediately and come towards me.
At first I feel relief that I have found someone to help me, but as they draw nearer my sense of discovery is replaced by extreme dread.

These young men are obviously part of a gang and the sudden appearance of a middle aged Caucasian woman wearing just a pair of panties along with a makeshift halter top seems to have made their day.
"Hey, what have we here? A runaway stripper, I think." The first young man says.
They are similarly dressed in oversized white t-shirts, jeans at half-mast, expensive looking sneakers and large gold chains around their necks.

The first man grabs my arms and pins them behind my back forcing my teeny breasts to poke out provocatively at the others as he removes my temporary top.
A second man pinches one of my nipples causing me to yelp in pain and try to draw away, but I am held firmly from behind.
The same man grabs my crotch making a rude remark about my moist mound.

The other four now are gathered around me and I am released only to be pawed and prodded by all six as they form a neat little circle around my almost naked body.
As they continue to grab at everything that is exposed, the general discussion is centered around who I am going to blow first and whether or not I like it up the a**.

I can't believe that I have escaped from my deepest fantasy only to walk into my darkest nightmare.
I feel myself fading from reality as everything starts to spin and I am collapsing to the ground.

"What do you mean ... !!"

I thought I would pull a muscle trying to keep myself calm. I screwed my eyes tight shut, and almost bit my own teeth out of my head!

She'sgone??? HOW the hell, ...

This isn't quite like misplacing your keys.

I sighed. That answer is obvious. Chano fell asleep. He fucked her, and then fell asleep. Somehow. And, she must have played him, too. Harris? His attention is on exactly what he was supposed to be doing, hacking her password.

So, where the hell is she?!

I exhaled. That's obvious, too. Not far. Shapely women wearing baby-blue panties aren't really built for distance, especially in this neighborhood. But, she only has to get far enough to call the cops. Or, to talk to someone else who might. Then, we're all sunk.

So, we just have to find her, first.

I already sense that, even though he screwed this thing up, but good, ... I am going to need Chano in the streets with me. Harris? He has more important things to do, IF we can get Elizabeth back!

"Tell Chano to get the van. I know he doesn't want to talk to me right now. No, you're staying here. You're finishing what you started, ... and, you monitor us. You're going to have to co-ordinate. I'll have my cell phone. Chano will have the van, and the GPS. You will have to keep us both in contact." I pause. "Is that too much to ask of you? Can you do that?"

For a half-million dollars, I think Harris was willing to bungee-jump off of the Empire State building.

"I'm searching on foot. Have Chano cruise the neighborhood. There's a residential block about a half-mile from here. Have him start there."

I'll scour the docks briefly ... anywhere there is a car parked, there is a potential threat. But, human nature might work for us; when a woman is almost naked like that, she'll be looking to cover yourself. Elizabeth would not head to someplace that kept her exposed, out in the open. Trees, houses, enclosed spaces, ... there is where she would run.

I jog along the docks, just to be sure. A little over a half-mile up, as I get nearer to the barrio, I promised myself to quit smoking for good this time, ... if I can get myself out of this. Make no mistake, I know that now, I was fighting for my life.

And, for the first time, I started to get angry with Elizabeth.


I check my cell phone, for the time: Three-thirty PM. Friday afternoon, yes, and even here, kids are getting out of school. Away from the docks, and down here near people, this can become problematic in a hurry. How do I explain a naked lady in the middle of the afternoon? How do I explain that I've come to re-kidnap her again, after she'd escaped me the first time?

I got my first text message: Harris is telling me that Chano is out on Scanlon Street, already, on the other side of the neighborhood, and moving south, back toward the pier.

I take a deep breath. IF we are lucky, Elizabeth has done half of our job for us -- kept herself out of sight. And, IF we are lucky, she'll see Chano in the van, and head back this way, toward me. Or maybe, vice versa. Either way, that will be good for us ... and better than we probably deserve, at this point. How the hell do you let her get away!?

I feel the blood rising in my head, and my senses are hyper-alert. But, I have to breathe. I have to think calmly, ... no telling what I will have to do in the next moment. Fight or flight, either way, I need a clear head.

Because, a couple of blocks in, I know that I will be entering gang territory.
It'll be obvious that I don't belong. Elizabeth won't, either.

Damn, I want that woman tied up, and in my hands, again!

Harris is texting. Chano thinks he saw her (thinks he saw her? How many naked Caucasian women does he see walking around in broad daylight?) on Luger Street. He thinks that she didn't see him. Luger's a one-way street, so he's turning around for a better look.

Luger Street is just two blocks up.

I increase my jog in that direction, trying to stay close to the fences, and behind the older model cars parked on the street, out of line of sight of ... well, hopefully, anybody.

A half-block before I get to the corner of Luger and South Leavitt Avenue, I just sense something. In the alley; right here. Something tells me to turn up in here, I don't know why. But, at this point, I trust my senses.

I hear something. Familiar. Sobbing? Pleading?

I see her, near the other end of the alley. I see the cholos, as well ... maybe a half-dozen of them. All gathered around a near-naked White woman with a perfect teardrop ass, groping at her; at her breast nipples; at her damp blue panties.

I calmly open my cell phone, and press a series of buttons. Then, I stride, purposefully, into the alley.

"Mira! Esperate, ... que da?"
"Parece que no, ... un viejo. No mas que pinche viejo."

"Please ... help me." (I wasn't yet sure who Elizabeth was talking to, but ... in light of the situation, I think I had a clue.)

I exhale, and smile. It's show time, make or break: "Good evening, gentlemen. I see that you've found my, uh, 'wife'. Good. I'll be taking her off your hands, ... that is to say, right now."

I halted about 20 feet away from them. For a moment, there was a disbelieving silence. Then, a low murmur of scorn:

"Que crees?"
"Quien es ese pinche viejo?"
"Esta fregado!"

The 'Leader' of the group -- I assume he's the Leader, since he's the one who comes forward -- hikes up his sagging jeans, and tells me to get lost.

"Get outta here, old man, before you get fucked up. My 'homies' and your 'wife', we gonna party ... and you're not invited! Unless, ... you wanna watch!"

That got a titter of laughter. Some of the cholos started mauling pretty Elizabeth's titties again, and laughed, back, looking at me.

Which is where I want their attention.

"Not today, fellas. Not today." Then, I authoritatively cross my arms.

The Leader -- a short man, I guess you'd say, but truthfully he was no more than a teenager -- saunters forward, closer to me. I lean against a dumpster, calmly perusing the contents; yet another sign of my disrespect. I knew he'd take it that way.

He lifts his tank top, and flashes the butt of a handgun stuck in his belt loop. "Oye, hit the road, cabron!"

"Not until I get my 'wife' back."

"Yeah, whachu gonna do?" He gets closer, within arm's length ... then gets directly into my face! "I don't see no weapon on you. Who you think you are, Chuck Norris? Whatcha gonna do, take her away from me and the homies?"

Without flinching: "Yes. I don't need a weapon to do that. All I need is that big Mexican standing over there behind your 'homies'. He's got all the weapons I need."

Chano stepped out of the van, on cue. In one hand, he held a short-barrel shotgun, with a pistol grip. In the other, an AK-style assault rifle, with a banana clip. He says nothing, but aims the weapons on the gathering.

"One other thing, ... I don't need a weapon to take care of you. I could do you with a soup can."

"El Jefe" turns from Chano, to me, just in time to see me fish a discarded soup can from the dumpster. Very deliberately, I fish out the top of the opened can, and palm the sharp disc in my left palm. "Check him out. He's a big guy, isn't he? If those sticks go off, it's gonna get bloody in here."

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