Claiming Kenna Ch. 01

*This is a non-consent story, reader beware. All characters are over 18. Have fun!

Claiming Kenna

Tuesdays were always the laziest day, with everyone too frayed from their Mondays, and too far from Friday to make time for the park. That was why Kenna liked it best. It was days like today, where the sun swallowed up the clouds, that she liked to imagine the sprites of the nearby forest--the mountains and the trees--and lose herself in the pages of a book.

Today, there had only been a few others, only the most dedicated dog owners, and afternoon joggers. But even they were funneling out now. Asking for Tuesday's off had been odd, and her new boss had looked at her sideways when the other workers her age fought for Saturday, but as she took a breathful of sky, she couldn't have been happier.

Kenna was pulled from the pages of her book when a shape moved beside her, and she shifted on the bench as someone sat down. A quick glance, and then she was back to reading. Just a guy and his dog.

"Hardly anyone here today..." The guy looked like he'd rather be on some intense hiking trail than sitting at the park--maybe one of those military guys from the base nearby--but the glossy Rottweiler at his feet disagreed. She couldn't help a genuine smile as she reached to the dog to let him sniff her fingers.

"Hi there," she said more to his dog than to him.

"Beautiful day. Hope you're appreciating it."

This time she could only manage a polite smile as she tried to get back to her reading. He said something else, but she was all but reabsorbed in the story. Then, his hand was between hers, pulling the book from her grasp.

"It's rude not to look at someone when they're talking to you."

For a flash of a moment, Kenna was caught up in rage. What a chauvinist pig. But as she turned to him, she had to reevaluate her reaction. Though he seemed perfectly relaxed, his posture wasn't without threat. This wasn't some misguided attempt at getting a girl's attention. She didn't know what this was. He leaned back against the bench, at ease despite the aggression in his shoulders. The definition of muscles was clear in his arms and under his shirt. Even the once sweet dog was now baring his teeth.

Kenna stood up. Deciding her best armor was a smile, she laughed, unable to keep the nervousness from peeking through. "Yeah, sorry. Distracted...Good book."

The leash dangled lazily from his hand, along with her book, and he looked at her with cold eyes. He wasn't the least bit playful. She considered for an instant asking for her book back. But he hadn't shifted. His expression hadn't softened, and she found herself stepping backwards.

"Um, I--"Kenna only thought briefly of her purse tucked underneath the bench, but she was already several steps back, and alarm bells were screaming in her head. She decided she would forego the purse. Bye, book. Bye, fucking credit card. "I gotta go."

She had just turned on heel, considering the possibility of out-right running, when she stepped into someone else.

"Oh, sorry." Sweet relief flooded her core. This guy was tall--built, just like the guy on the bench. Now she could go back for her purse. Harder for Bench Guy to be vaguely threatening with a witness. Except, before she could ask him to stick around, the second guy grabbed her by the elbow--hard. He spun her around before she could even think to shout.

Now, bench-guy was standing, and in her panicked confusion she scanned the empty park. Not one person. Kenna caught a glint of a needle in his hand. "What the Fuck?" She inhaled to scream, but there was a hand over her mouth. Bench guy grabbed her by the hair, and pulling her neck to the side, he jammed that metal into her neck. Kenna thrashed as she felt cool liquid meeting her bloodstream. "No, No!' Her shout was dampened by clasping fingers, and she tried to bite, but to no avail.

The guy holding her stepped back, and in that second, she felt her legs give. Her vision dulled...The world was muted, and Kenna pleaded with her body not to give in as she watched a red truck pull up directly onto the grass. She tried to scream again, but her cries died in her throat. She could only manage a weird mumbling sound. The man behind her was supporting her under the arms, and bench guy came to take her feet. Already, her vision rimmed with black.

"No..." she thought--not loudly enough.

"Don't worry, we're going to teach you some manners soon enough." And with that she was pulled onto the floor of the backseat, underneath a set of boots.

Her screams had faded into barely-perceptible grunts, and she couldn't see. She couldn't fucking see, but even her panic was dulled by whatever drug was coursing through her system. Kenna felt the rolling of the tires beneath her, and she fell into darkness.

_______________________________

She was lying back against something warm, and a tv was playing in the background.

Hmm, her boyfriend stirred behind her, and he lifted her skirt, pulling aside her panties to press at her entrance. That's weird. She didn't appreciate the sudden sensation, and wait... She didn't have a boyfriend. Fuck.

Her eyes flew open and she tried to stand, only to find herself barred by an arm around her waist. "Woah! We got a live one!"

Her voice had returned, and she was screaming again, thrashing now, and trying to squirm out of the arms behind her.

"You woke her up."

"I barely touched her!"

"My, my...so sensitive".

Men were moving towards her, and she realized they weren't friendly.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

Then, a hand was fisted in her hair, and her neck pulled back. A harsh order was issued in her ear that sent cold shivers up her spine. "Shut. Up."

The man from the park bench was standing above her, harsher for the dank light, and he wore the same grave expression from before. Kenna realized as she blinked that her mouth was closed, and he released her hair. "Good."

He walked around in front of her, and Kenna couldn't help but tug on her arms which were now pulled back behind her. She was planted between two spread legs, and whomever held her rested one muscled arm around her hips. He was strong enough to hold her with one hand, and she twisted her wrists only to have him squeeze tighter.

As much as she wanted to turn and look at the guy behind her, she couldn't take her eyes off the guy from earlier...on the bench. He stepped around, crouching on the balls of his feet.

With her stuck up on the couch, he was exactly at eye-level with her most-feminine parts. Why, oh why had she worn a skirt today? Damn laundry day. As she moved to close her legs, however, she was halted by his hands.

Thankfully, somewhere during the struggle, her skirt had fallen back over her thighs, and her panties were in place. Kenna felt woefully exposed nonetheless.

"Now," bench-guy started, resting a hand over her knee. "We're going to ask you some questions, and you'll know exactly how pleased I am with your answer by my response. Do you understand?"

Her eyes flashed to his face, and then around the room. Just how dangerous was he?

As her eyes adjusted to the distance beyond him, she realized that she wasn't in a room at all. True, it was arranged like a living room, with couches planted around a big-screen, but the walls were made of rock. The only light came from the tv--a video game emulating gunfire, and a standing lamp at the edge of the couch.

It vaguely occurred to Kenna that there shouldn't be electricity in a cave, but a buzzing, yellow, generator confirmed that she was, in fact, in very big trouble. How far away were they from civilization? How long had she been unconscious?

"Hey--" the sharpness of his voice was accented by the sharpness of his nails as he dug them into the flesh of her knee. "I told you once that it's rude not to look at someone when they're speaking to you,"

Indeed, she stared at his face again...better for the details of a future police sketch. Dark, blonde hair. Blue eyes. Square jaw. Handsome. She remembered reading how some of the most notorious criminals were famous not just for their crimes, but for their features...something about how the human brain was wired. People thought they could trust something pretty; pretty couldn't be dangerous; handsome couldn't hurt. She was having trouble putting the rest of her observations into words, when he slid his hand just a little further up her thigh.

"Oh dear, we are slow..." It wasn't until his hands rose further upwards, all the way to his inner thighs, that Kenna gasped, leaning back onto the man behind her. She went a shade brighter as his hands disappeared under her skirt, and the guy behind her chuckled.

"Now, darling, what's your name?"

She could feel his fingers gripping into her thighs, drawing little circles--squeezing.

"Kenna," she breathed, much more quietly than she intended.

"Kenna." He turned from her briefly to one of the men over his shoulder. "That true, Phil?"

Phil. Goddamnit, they were using names. No masks. No nothing. That couldn't be a good sign. Phil turned from the screen, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. He leaned down to scoop something off the floor. "Yep. Kenna Thompson. 5'6''. A hundred and fifteen pounds, according to the DMV, and a temporary license. Just turned 21." Her purse.

"Aww, Kenna," The other man who had grabbed her man spoke up, with darker features than Phil. He had longer, wavy hair, the kind that briefly reminded her of beaches and surfboards. "Have you gone out drinking yet, with your new, temporary license? So much fun."

He seemed way too excited to hear her response, literally on the edge of his seat, and Kenna didn't like it. "No," she said flatly. "Not interested."

"You ever been drunk, Kenna?"

It occurred to her that these weren't just questions, that she shouldn't answer so easily. But with hands spreading her legs, and the threat it implied, she decided to answer that one. "Yeah. I've been drunk." She didn't include that it had only been a few times, in her best friend's basement, drinking something that Amber called 'divorcees', after her mother.

"Drugs?"

"No."

"Sex?"

Again, she was aware of the heat against her thighs--hands spreading her wide--and she tried to close them, to no avail. It was none of their damn business, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"Answer," bench guy prompted, and the guy behind her trailed his hand up to the hem of her skirt, fingering a length of fraying cloth. Her heart clenched just a bit, but she found some of that anger, from when that bastard had snatched her book. "Fuck you!" She promptly tried to kick him, only landing the side of her heel on his knee. Wasn't enough to do damage...

"Mark--" At only the order of his name, the man behind her anchored her wrists to his pelvis, slipping one leg around each of hers. He stepped on the tops of her feet, already stripped of her shoes, and tore her back by the hair. She felt his groin pushing into her back, and he scooted forward, presenting her to the man in front by pushing her up with his hips.

"Okay, okay. Yes! Yes, I've had sex. Once. With Tommy Markons in Senior year, in the back of his fucking Chevy!"

She was having trouble lifting her head off of Mark's chest, but she didn't like the idea of letting bench-guy out of her sight. He was crouching still, on a knee now to get a better look, and her thighs were trembling.

"Tommy Markons take anything else from you?"

"What?"

Bench-guy rolled his eyes, exacerbated. "You take it in the ass, Kenna?"

"Ew, no!"

Then everything paused for a moment, and Kenna realized she had made a horrible mistake. All of them were looking at her, and interest sparked on bench-guys face. "Never?"

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and her voice was higher than usual as she tried to take it back. "No, I mean, I've--"

"Kenna, don't you dare fucking lie to me." His tone was dangerous. Cold fucking ice. And Kenna felt tears finally stinging her eyes.

"Please, let me go! I don't wanna talk about this. Let me go. Please, please! " As she struggled, it became clear that Mark was getting hard, grinding his pelvis up against her ass, and she tried to shimmy to the side to avoid it, but suddenly, bench guy pressed his hand down on her stomach, impeding further movement.

"Kenna, you will not move. And you will answer any further questions without complaint, or I will sell your virgin ass to a low bidder with a big dick and an anger management problem. Understand?"

Sell me? She could only squeak in response, but she stilled, and Mark relaxed beneath her, groaning at the loss of pressure against his erection.

"Great, now you've got Mark all worked up. Next question. Tommy Markons ever make you cum?"

Her mouth was fucking dry, and she wanted to answer but she didn't know what to say. Maybe? Not exactly? "I-I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know."

"Lets try this again," Now he was over her, his hand clamped around the back of her neck like he meant to kiss her. "Anyone ever make your fucking world shatter? Did you scream his name at the fucking ceiling? Did you feel yourself dripping down his cock, and your pussy clenching around him?"

At his words, Kenna felt a flush heating her whole body. She was sure her cheeks were red, and she realized as his eyes scanned her torso that she wasn't wearing a bra anymore. Her nipples were pressed against the thin, white tank top she had intended as an undershirt, and he drug his hand along the curve of her waist, and over a breast to pull down the top of her shirt. With one breast fully exposed, he whistled, flicking her across the pink tip. "Is Kenna getting turned on?"

"Leave me alone," She struggled, trying to somehow force the fabric back in place, but then realizing it probably made for a better show, she stopped, trying only to slow her breathing.

"Has a man ever made you cum? Or a woman?" he added as an afterthought."Ever been with a woman Kenna?"

She was not about to tell him about the time that her and Amber had once taken turns pressing the shower head against each other's pussies the summer after graduation. "One last escape before college," Amber had called it, and they'd packed their bikinis for the beach. Except that when they got there, Kenna discovered that it was a topless beach, and Amber had stolen her top. A full day of sexual tension and teasing ended in their hotel room shower, and Kenna snuck out after Amber fell asleep. They hadn't really talked since.

Regularly, the memory filled her with a mix of embarrassment and regret, but at the moment, with a man's hand creeping ever closer to her pussy, she could only think of the slippery sensation when, for a brief moment, Amber's mouth had replaced the showerhead, and she took one, full lick up the length of Kenya's slit. She'd felt herself clenching then, milking nothing and wanting nothing more than to have something hard inside her. But she had climaxed. It counted. That was what he wanted. "I've had an orgasm, if that's what you mean." She scoffed, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, so utterly unconcerned.

"How many guys have you finished for then?"

She knew better now than to tell the truth, by his description, a grand total of 'zero', so she spouted what she hoped was a convincing number. "Three."

Kenna took another glance around the room, noting that the shooter game had been abandoned, with the player being repeatedly shot in the face at respawn. God, she could really use a S.W.A.T. team right about now. Phil had taken up a large notebook, and was fervently sketching something in pencil. Surfer-guy was standing at an angle, still fucking smiling like a kid at an ice cream stand as he peered up her skirt. Bench-guy, of course, had resumed his kneeling position, and flipped up the top of her skirt.

"Well, then. Any special talents Kenna?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" She tried to draw him away from the growing wet spot between her legs with venom. Her panties were white cotton, nothing special, but if he looked, surely he would see that she was starting to soak through them.

"Make a man cum with your pinky finger? Swallow a cock like a pro? Hmm?"

"Definitely fucking not."

"Hmm, shame. You'll learn. Sing? Dance? For your new owner?"

"What the fuck?" the expression wasn't really directed at him though. That was really it then? He was going to sell her?

"That's not an answer, Kenna," But she was broken from her disbelief by a finger hooked around that white fabric at her sex, and she bucked back, trying to escape his snide chuckle. "My, my..."

"Please stop! I'll answer all your questions!"

But he didn't seem to be able to help himself as the scent of her arousal hit the air, and he mumbled to himself. "I don't think that you want me to stop..."

Already, he had her pantys around her thighs, and she wanted to kick him again, but she couldn't get her limbs free. Even if she could, she was scared half stupid of what he would do if she did...if she didn't...

He ran a thumb through her pussy lips, just barely brushing her clit, and her hips kicked like she'd been touched with a live wire.

"Woo!" one of the boys hollered, and she knew she should better control herself.

"Don't. Touch. Me." Kenna bore her fucking teeth, hoping it would be enough to keep him at bay, but he only grinned, pushing her abdomen down with the heel of his hand.

Even if she hadn't been shocked still, she was quite certain that she wouldn't have been able to move as he lifted a single finger, flicking it once over her opening and through her slit.

"Jesus, fuck." He announced, and dropped his head, taking a deep breath. Kenna felt her pulse burning through her, seeing him affected like that. Surely, she shouldn't be that fucking wet? No, her body was just responding biologically. Preparing for the horrible things that were implied. She was just scared. She was just...so fucking wet.

"What?" one of the others finally asked when their leader failed to continue.

His voice was deeper when he spoke, betraying the small loss of control over his own biology. "She's soo fucking wet,"

"No, I'm fucking not!" but even as the words came out, she could feel her arousal dripping from her pussy to slide down the space between her cheeks. What the fuck was wrong with her?

"Oh, really?"

The bands of muscles in her thighs ached with the strain of trying to close her legs, but Mark had leaned forward, keeping a firm grip on her.

"No, please--"

It took only a small motion for bench-guy to lean forward and sink two fingers into her sopping cunt. She closed her eyes against the embarrassing groan that escaped her lips, and when she reopened them, the room was closing in on her.

Bench-guy was twisting his fingers inside her, rolling across her slick clit with his thumb, and everyone else had taken several steps forward. Behind her, Mark shoved his hard-on up against her ass, and suddenly, Kenna felt like she would pass out. Her head was swimming. The drugs. It was only the fucking drugs.

"Get off me!"

"She's not a virgin, Jarrod."

"Half a virgin..."

"God, she's fucking soaking."

"Please, stop!" Her voice was completely lost in the power of their combined lust as they looked over her body. Hands were trailing over her breasts. There was a hand around her neck. She couldn't tell with one of them pinched her nipple, pulling up hard enough to make her lean forward onto the hand inside her. She felt her body constricting tighter around his fingers, and her wetness spreading over her thighs. Her voice was almost a scream as it came again. "I've never come for a man! Once! With a-a girl. I-I was only with a guy that once, and I've just never--"