Held Hostage Ch. 01byCaribbeanGuy©
(You know the deal… No one is under 18 and no names or physical traits are used for the characters (for the most part) as is my style. You put those in yourselves as the story is written so that you can choose to be one of the participants if you wish and I have no idea what you look like. Furthermore, what I might find appealing may not be so for you and/or others for that matter. Anyway, 'nuff said and time to start the story).
"Just do as these fucking bastards say honey and don't act like a bitch and lip off at them. Just do as you're told. Do you hear me woman? Just do what they say and try not to be a wise ass and maybe we'll get out of this shit alive. I swear to God. I'll give you another whooping if you do or say anything to piss them off. Do you hear me? As for you fuckers, mark my words, I'm going to kill every one of you when I get out of this. I'm gonna hunt you all down and kill you like dogs. Dogs!!! Do you hear me you fuckers? Fuck you, you prick. And you too, you low life piece of shit. And fuck you too, you little fuck. Fuck all of you. Fuck all you bastards."
Every muscle in her body quivered in fear as she looked straight into the deadly eye of a hand gun. It was held by a man standing directly in front of her at a distance of approximately 5 feet from the bedroom door through which she had just made her entry. The identity of the man was concealed behind a black ski mask.
Her head snapped left and right scanning her bedroom with eyes filled with horror as she saw two other similarly attired men standing in the room, another of which also held a hand gun.
Looking at them, the instant realization of what was happening and what was more likely than not, about to happen, further elevated her state of fright. Her mind quickly filled with thoughts about how each of these masked men, these rapists, awaited their turns to sexually exploit and violate her person and the reprehensible visualizations mortified her.
Images of these reprobates of civil society taking their turns inserting their hardened penises into her vagina, probably into her mouth and possibly into her anal cavity were scenes mostly played out on the film reels of pornographic movies, the pages of dirty magazines, books and internet sites such as Literotica.com (winkwink).
However, for some, probably many, they were also scenes freely constructed and envisaged in the privacy and safety of the mind of those imagining same in perverse self pleasure masturbation fantasies.
Whether by sheer coincidence or by feigned design, the latter definition of the two mentioned above happened to be hers.
They were her very secret fantasies. Her, very private, very personal and very stimulating sexual fantasies, known only to one other person in the world besides herself, and certainly not to, or by, these pieces of filth that were now holding her hostage in her own bedroom. In her own house!!!
However, fantasy this was not. This was reality. The cold, hard and at times, merciless and unforgiving reality of truth, fact and non-fiction, not Iraqi weapons of mass destruction, fairy tales or dancing sugar plums.
She was quite probably about to be raped by a group of men unknown to her, be they family, friend or foe. The various relationship combinations of some, any, all, or none mattered little at this point. The dices of fate had been cast, and the accompanying sentence had already commenced even before she had returned home late that night from her once monthly, "Girls Night Out."
The words heard upon her entry had come from her husband and were courageous words to be uttered from someone when one considers the circumstances that the person that had uttered them was currently in.
Her husband, 'Mr. Macho', was sitting upright with his back to the entrance door of the bedroom through which she had casually sauntered into this horrific nightmare. He was at the foot of the bed facing away from her and in the direction of their nightly resting place. He could see the reflected image of his wife behind him via the large mirror on the wall that stretched perpendicularly over and in line with the head and width of the king sized bed. Likewise, the woman could see the reflection of her restrained husband and the subjugator that had accosted her when she entered the master bedroom. He had now positioned himself behind her and had pulled her hands behind her back and placed a set of handcuffs on her wrists.
What had drawn chuckles of laughter from each of the three abductors in the room about the seemingly valiant and violent threats of vengeance to be visited upon each of these 'bastards', 'fuckers', 'low life pieces of shit', 'pricks' etc., by the husband, was the peculiarity of his state of restraint.
Firstly, he had been stripped completely naked. Secondly, he had been handcuffed by both ankles by one set of handcuffs. I guess you could say he was 'foot-cuffed'. Thirdly, he was cuffed with his hands behind his back. And fourthly, he had been blindfolded.
Nothing too strange or uncommon about that one might say. True. But what made his bondage unique, was the thin piece of rope that connected both sets of metallic restraints. The rope was tied to the 'foot-cuffs' and pulled under the chair, up the back and tied to the chain of the handcuffs that secured the man's wrists. There was very little slack in this rope and the tension of the connection would aptly be described as being taut, very taut.
In this ingenious setup, if the captive tried to stand up and try to attack his attackers by whatever means, his hands would be pulled painfully downward towards his ankles because of the tight connection of the rope and he would fall backward and topple over. Similarly, if he tried to maneuver his hands upward and over his head, as some persons have been able to do, his feet would be pulled backwards and upwards towards his hands and he would fall forward on his face and chest.
What had she done to deserve this? Why had the God's of Destiny passed such a cruel sentence once more on this externally beautiful and stunningly appealing woman, who internally had traits, qualities and characteristics that would later be shown to be those of a gentle, kind, selfless, compassionate and loving person? This, after having endured so much pain and suffering, physically, mentally and emotionally from a plethora of unkind events, it seemed, throughout her entire life.
"Please don't hurt us. Please don't- don't hur-hurt us. Take whatever you want and leave us alone. Please. Just take whatever you want and go. Take whatever you want. We won't call the police. I promise. You have my word. Please just take what you want and go," she begged naively.
"You don't have to worry about that lady, I promise you. We ARE going to take what we came here for. Trust me, we will. Yes indeed. Now, a lot of what might or might not happen tonight depends entirely on you little lady. Do you understand?"
The voice was that of her youthfully built and muscularly rippled captor responding to her innocent and terrified pleas, whispering over her right shoulder and into her right ear. This was done with a handful of her hair entangled in his fingers as he pulled her head backwards painfully towards the left side of his face as he spoke.
He was behind her and appeared to be the leader of the trio, the gang. The 'Gang-Bang Gang' if you will.
"That's right. We won't call the police. Fuck them. We won't need the police because I'm gonna hunt down all three of you fuckers myself. I'm gonna hunt you all down and kill you like I said. Like dogs, fucking dogs. Do you hear me you pricks? I'm gonna kill you all like flea infested, half starved, mongrel dogs. I swear to God. I swear to fucking God. Now leave the bitches outta this. Your beef is with me isn't it? Leave the women outta this. Leave the woman and kid alone," barked her captive husband in yet another of his testosterone filled outbursts of male bravado of which there would be many more to be heard before this drama was through.
"Bitches?", "women?", "woman and kid?" these phrases indicated yet another participant. One that was previously unseen, unheard and unmentioned in this real life drama besides the three darkly attired, ski masked men, herself, and her naked, bound and blindfolded husband.
Yes. There was another participant, a sixth participant, a second female participant. She was the abducted couple's daughter.
Dressed in a see through night gown, if one could call it that, which was about the length of a very skimpy mini-skirt, in that, it barely covered her buttocks and her nether region. Her firm breasts and pert nipples were clearly visible to all through the thin material of her sleep wear, as were her panties.
The young girl was restrained by only one set of handcuffs and sitting on the ground, off to the side of the room by the walk-in closet. She was sitting with her back against the wall and had a side on view of her restrained parent. Her line of sight, although off to the side, made her able to see her father's face and torso from in front of him and back towards her mother by the door whose terrified face she could also see.
The cuffs were attached to her left wrist and her left ankle and one of the three masked men was standing beside her, on her left, she being seated below him to his right. He was the only one of the three that did not have a gun in hand.
It was obvious to see that in this type of restraint, if the youngster were able to get herself into an upright and erect position, she would be standing on one leg, her right. She would then have to hop on same to make what would be a very awkward advance or retreat. She would also quite easily lose whatever balance she could muster by means of a simple push from any direction, whether from the front, the back, the left or the right side.
"Oh my God honey, are you all right? You bastards. You bastards. That's my daughter. Oh God. Please don't hurt her. Oh baby. Are you alright? Did any of them hurt you? Did they hurt you sweet heart? You bastards. Oh baby. Oh God. Oh my God. Everything will be alright baby. Okay? Okay honey? Mommy won't let them hurt you. Mommy won't let them hurt you baby," her now sobbing mother tearfully tried to assure the child of her womb.
"Oh mommy, please don't let them kill me. Please make them leave. Please make them go. I don't want to die mommy. I don't want to die," the young damsel in distress cried out to her trembling, teary eyed mother through tears of her own.
"I said leave the women outta this. They don't have anything to do with this. Leave them outta this you bunch of pussies. That's right. You heard me you fuckers. You're a bunch of pussies. A bunch of pansies and fags is what all of you are. Pansies and fucking fairy faggots. Now leave the bitches alone and leave them outta this shit."
"Hey guys. Do you hear the big bad football coach? What an idiot? You're an idiot coach, a fucking idiot. Not so tough now are you coach? Huh, you steroid popping sack of shit? Well we're going to see just how tough you are big guy. That's right you alcoholic bully, because tonight is your night coach. Tonight is your night. Tonight is the night you start to repay your debts to those you owe," said the second of the three men who were incognito as he made a semi circle around and spoke to the hostage.
He was clearly the eldest of the three based on the maturity of his voice and that of his physique. He was probably in the same age range as the captive coach and his weeping wife. While at first it seemed to the woman that the masked youth grasping a handful of her hair from behind, it became manifestly clear to all and sundry that the true leader of the group was this older man who was standing over her alcohol stenched husband and informing him that tonight was the night he would start repaying his debts.
"Debts? What debts? I knew that he drank too much and was abusive, but I didn't know that he had a gambling problem too. Christ. That man is right. He really is an idiot. What has he gone and done now? And now me and my baby girl are caught up in this crap, HIS CRAP!!! God I hate him. I hate him. I fucking hate him. I should have left the selfish, no good bastard the day after our wedding. Oh God. Please don't let them kill us. Please don't let them kill us Lord," the visibly trembling woman thought and prayed silently to herself in the quiet recesses of her mind.
"Debts? What fucking debts? I don't owe nobody nothing. What the fuck are you talking about? I don't gamble. You stupid fucks got the wrong guy. You've made a mistake. Now let me and the women go and maybe, just maybe, I won't kick your fucking asses. Shit. I was getting worried there for a minute. Don't worry baby. We're gonna be alright. These dumb-fucks made a mistake. I don't have any gambling debts because I don't gamble. I don't owe nobody nothing. I don't have any debts to pay to no one. Now get the fuck outta my house you fucking faggots, and leave the keys to the cuffs with one of the bitches. They'll let me go while you fairies get a head start. Hahahahaahahahahahahahahaha," the coach laughed at the sudden twist in events.
But a twist in events this was not to be. As the coach was wrong yet again as he had been demonstrating all night and probably all life long.
"Wrong answer coach, that's the wrong answer. This isn't a mistake. I can assure you of that. No sir. This is no mistake at all. And the debts you owe are not gambling debts. On that point, you are right. In fact, that's the only sensible thing you've said all night since you've recovered from the chloroform we knocked you out with. No sir, 'Mr. Coach', these aren't gambling debts. Gambling debts pale into comparison to the debts that I'm talking about. The debts I'm referring to are much more, much, much more. And like I said earlier, tonight is the night you start repaying some of them," and then looking over in the direction of the two persons by the bedroom door, the elder gang leader continued.
"Hey kid. Bring that lovely looking lady over here and let me take a good look at her. That's right. Bring her over here beside this pathetic piece of shit and arrogant son of a bitch. Thanks kid. Now go over there and stand on the other side of her daughter with your friend 'Mr. Talkative' over there. Both of you stand on each side of the girl and 'guard' her," the gang leader instructed and sarcastically referred to the third, silent member of the gang who had not uttered a single word at any point during the entire evening. Neither before nor after the woman of the house had returned home minutes earlier.
"Oh God, please leave my daughter alone. Please leave her alone. Look. I don't know what my husband did and I don't know what debts he has, but I'll do anything you people want, anything you want. Just please leave my little girl alone. Please leave her alone. She hasn't hurt anyone. She doesn't deserve this or whatever it is you people have in mind. Please sir, I'm begging you. As her mother, I'm begging you sir. Please leave her alone and don't hurt her. Please sir, I'm begging you," the distressed mother begged passionately.
"So who is this nice lady coach? Huh? Is this your wife? Is she your wife? Well whether she is or isn't, she's very pretty. Lady, do you know how pretty you are? Do you really, really know how pretty you are?" asked the masked man, standing toe to toe, face to face, eye to eye with the former beauty contestant.
During this minor interrogation, the interrogator used the cold steel of the gun's outer frame to gently caress the side of the woman's flushed face, making a dangerously delicate trail towards the center of her chin, then slowly snaking its way under her neck, and then slowly continued to chart a course towards her…
"Leave the bitch alone you fucker. I swear to God I'm gonna kick your ass if you touch my woman. What's the matter you fuck? Can't get a bitch for yourself? Gotta go take some other guy's woman by force so you can get your rocks off you perverted fuck?" the coach interrupted in a fit of jealous rage at witnessing what the man was doing to his wife with the black semi-automatic.
"You know something coach? You have got to be the most asinine person on the planet. And as for you lady, I have to be honest with you. Your husband is an imbecile. What were you thinking when you said I do to this mentally challenged Neanderthal? What were you thinking lady? What the hell were you thinking? Look at him. Just look at him. He's an aggressive, arrogant and abusive asshole and now you and your little daughter have found yourselves smack dab in the middle of all of this because of him and the debts he has to repay. Anyway, it's none of my business who you chose to marry. None of my business at all, and as they say, if you make your bed you have to lie in it. Now enough of this chit-chat, it's time for some debt collection. What do you say boys? Time to start some debt collection or what?" the gang leader asked his two younger cronies that were standing 'guard' on either side of the young girl over by the walk-in closet.
"Damn right boss, time to start collecting, time to start some debt collection. Hey boss, are we gonna kill them when we're through? Can we kill them when we're through boss? Huh? Can we? Can we?" asked the masked youth that had previously held the older woman hostage as he made an advance towards the bed, the black hand gun waving irresponsibly in hand.
"Oh my God. Oh God. They're going to kill us. They're going to kill us. You idiot. You fucking idiot. What have you done? Who do you owe? How much do you owe them? Oh please sir. Please don't kill us. How much money does my husband owe you people? What debts are you talking about? How much are his debts? I have some extra money. You can have it. Oh God. Please don't kill us. Please don't hurt my baby. You stupid idiot. You stupid idiot. Look at the mess you've gotten us into. And now we're all going to die. We're all going to die. I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you so fucking much. I hope you burn in hell. I hope you burn in hell you no good son of a bitch. I hate you," the enraged and weeping wife wailed at her once mighty, but now crest fallen husband when he finally realized how truly desperate and potentially fatal the situation actually was.
She continued, "Please Mister. Please. Please don't hurt the girl. I'll do anything you want. Anything you want me to do. Just spare her life. Take mine. Take my life instead. Take mine instead. And just make sure that you kill this no good son of a bitch too. Make damn sure you kill him since he's the one that has caused all of this mess in the first place. Oh God. Please don't let them kill my little baby. Please Lord. Please. Please Lord, don't let them kill my little girl," the violently trembling and whimpering mother prayed aloud in addition to the admonishments she had directed at her now toppled and slightly inebriated husband.
"ALRIGHT BE QUIET!!!! EVERYONE BE QUIET!!! STOP ALL THE NOISE!!! EVERYONE JUST BE QUIET!!! EVERYBODY JUST SETTLE DOWN AND BE QUIET FOR A MINUTE!!!" shouted the gang leader in an effort to restore some calm and order.
"LOOK!!! No one is going to get killed unless I say so. We're not going to kill anyone unless we have to. Does everybody understand me? I said, DOES EVERYBODY UNDERSTAND ME?!?!"
Timid affirmatives were heard by all at various decibel levels of consent.
"Good. Now you two idiots take the girl back over to where you were before all of this mayhem started. And you lady, try to calm down. Try to calm down. I'm not going to hurt you unless I have to, okay? Do you understand me? Just co-operate with us and no one has to get hurt. Just do everything we say and nobody has to get hurt. Okay? Not you, not your daughter and maybe, just maybe, not the coach here if he can manage to keep his mouth shut, although I doubt it. Do you understand me lady? That's the deal. If everybody does as instructed, they live. If they don't, they die. It's as simple as that. Got it? Got it lady?" he asked the slightly more composed but still sobbing lady as he grabbed her by both arms and shook them firmly but gently to get her to focus her eyes and attention towards his and away from her downed husband.