Detour Ch. 01 - The Capture

My consulting company, based in Seattle, had been retained by the ownership of a group of convenience stores to assist them in either upgrading their locations or selling the business. As our first priority, we wanted to visit some of the representative sites. We decided to do the most remote locations first and get them out of the way.

This trip would take us into the wilds of western Washington and northern Idaho. Flying there would not be feasible so I rented a van for us. This was a potentially important client so I would be going personally. I was taking along two of my most trusted associates, Brooke and Kathy.

Brooke was about fifty. But she looked significantly younger and was quite attractive. She had a slender build on her 5"4' frame. Her short blonde hair was always stylishly arranged. On one occasion, I was at a sports bar with some colleagues. One of the men commented, referring to my employee Brooke, "Honestly, I would pay money just to see her naked. I am not talking about 'doing' anything. I mean just to see her. I would pay money for that." Others at the table nodded in agreement.

Kathy, at 45, was also attractive but not the well-preserved beauty that Brooke was. Although not overweight by any means, she did have a little more meat on her bones. I had dated Kathy for a time and was interested in her. But she was very reticent. She was coming out of a bad marriage and still had something of the "all men are jerks" mentality. So we had left it just on the basis of friendship and I thought that, maybe over time, she would become more available.

For the first night, we were going to stay in a small motel in a small town in western Washington. It was really the only thing to be found. This area was definitely off the beaten track. We initially headed east on the interstate. But eventually we had to be taking secondary roads. And these seemed to go on and on and on. It did not seem that we were ever going to get back to civilization.

Suddenly, I heard a loud "pop" and the vehicle became unmanageable. With difficulty, I pulled to the side of the road. Exiting the van, I immediately saw the blown out tire on the front driver side. Checking in the back, I found we had no spare. Cursing the rental company, I at least remembered that I had AAA coverage for such events. But when I pulled out my phone, I discovered to my chagrin that our location was now so remote that I had no coverage. We were stranded in the middle of nowhere and with no way to contact anyone for help.

The three of us stood there for a considerable time, brainstorming what to do. We never saw a soul. Then, eventually, I saw a vehicle approaching in the distance. Standing in the middle of the road, I frantically waved my arms in an effort to get them to stop. If we could not get help from them, there was no telling how long we would be stuck there.

The vehicle was actually another van. Seeing our distress, it pulled to a stop in front of me. As the driver got out, I immediately had reservations about the desire to obtain assistance from him. He was heavily tattooed, with long shaggy hair and a beard. Trying to hide my feelings, I pleasantly described our predicament to him. As I talked, four other men of roughly similar appearance came out of the van.

When I finished, the driver smirked at me and snapped, "We can definitely help you out. First of all, the three of you will turn around and face your van." Insulted, I protested that this was totally inappropriate. But then one of the others grabbed Brooke and roughly turned her around and slammed her against our vehicle. The driver repeated, "I said turn around and face your van." It was clear that they meant business. We could not hope to fight our way out of the situation and no other help was likely to be forthcoming. I tried to reason with him. Impatient, he grabbed me and threw me against our vehicle. Seeing that, Kathy turned herself around and complied with their demand.

One of the men produced a set of zip ties. Each of us had our wrists tightly bound behind us. We were then unceremoniously tossed into the back of their van. One of them got into the back with us. The others piled back in and off we went, to an uncertain fate. We went for a considerable distance. Eventually, we left even the secondary roads. Now, what we were on was more like an alleyway. Beyond that, we were travelling on dirt paths.

After what seemed like an eternity, we stopped. The rear doors opened and we were ordered to get out. Looking around, there was a large metal building. There were a number of vehicles visible, including motorcycles, pick-up trucks and a few rusty old cars. Otherwise, there was nothing but forests, as far as the eye could see.

We were marched into the building. Upon entering, we were in a bar. A number of men were milling around. Everyone was drinking. A few were playing darts or at the pool tables. A Conway Twitty tune blared over speakers. We were marched through the bar into an adjoining room that seemed to be a kind of assembly area. A number of folding chairs were aligned in rows. The whole building was just dark and spooky. Lighting was poor and there were no windows.

The driver of their van called out, "Can I have your attention, everyone. Please. We have some new slaves and will be introducing them now. Anyone who is interested can check it out." The bar emptied and the folding chairs became occupied. The three of us looked at each other in horror. We were helpless. They knew it. We knew it. And they knew that we knew it.

One of them grabbed me by the arm and led me to a position in front of the assembled group. Pulling out a knife, he cut away the zip ties that had bound my wrists. Harshly, he commanded, "Now, take off all you clothes." In shock, I stood there motionless. Briefly glancing at Kathy and Brooke, I saw they were both crying. The man repeated, louder this time, "I said to strip. Take off your clothes." I had no other option. Swallowing hard, I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off. After taking off my shoes, I loosened my belt. Unzipping my pants, I pulled them down and kicked them away. I then stood there, with my hands across my groin. "Everything," the man barked. With a deep sigh, I pulled down my underwear.

He then ordered me, "Put your arms behind your back." I did as I was told and felt zip ties again bind my wrists. Another of the men then approached me. He was holding a vibrator in one hand and a tape measure in the other. He flipped a switch on the vibrator and pushed it roughly between my legs. Humiliated, I felt myself becoming aroused. Shaking, I begged him to stop. I was ignored. Soon, I screamed that I could not take it anymore. At just that moment, he dropped the vibrator to the floor. Taking my erection in one hand, he held the measuring tape next to it with the other. "Ten inches," he announced to the group. That information was met with boos and hisses from the assembled men.

One of the men then led Brooke up to face the group. He barked at her, "Strip. Take off your clothes." Crying, she looked over at me with a look that asked me to do something. What could I do? I was standing there naked, with a throbbing erection. I could not even help myself. But it just added to the humiliation to have to watch my co-workers be abused.

Silently, Brooke undressed for them. When she was done, the man with her commanded, "Lock your arms behind you head." When she complied, he took the tape measure and wrapped it around her chest. "Thirty-six," he called out. He then placed it around her waist. "Twenty-nine," he announced. He then put it around her hips. ""Thirty-seven," he said. Pulling down her arms, he again bound her wrists with zip ties. He then pushed her to the side, next to me.

Next, it was Kathy's turn. The man with her led her to the front and cut the ties on her wrists. Stepping away, he told her, "You know what to do. Do it." She adopted a more defiant attitude. (She had "spunk." That was one trait that attracted me to her.) Ripping off her clothes, she snapped, "Everyone. Be sure and get a good look." A few in the group laughed. When she was naked, the man with her commanded, "Lock you hands behind your head." He then took the tape measure to her. Reading her chest, he called out, "Thirty-eight." There was cheering and applause. Wrapping it around her waist, he announced, "Thirty-one." After measuring her hips, he said, "Thirty-nine."

The three of us were then led out of the assembly area through a rear door into another chamber. What I saw there terrified me. A large portion was filled with apparatus and items used for BDSM activities. Another section seemed to be used for some sort of medical purposes. A smaller area in a corner contained a few beds of varying sizes. I did not know what would happen to us here. But I knew that it would not be good.