Invisible Girl - An Erotic Romance Pt. 07

"No, ma'am!" her father enthused, catching a drop of pickle juice running down his chin with a napkin. "So we're figuring on driving down the weekend after next, okay?"

Jane nodded. "I'll check with Mrs. Jorgenson, but I'm pretty sure it'll be okay."

She continued to chat with her parents as if she was as pleased as they were—and in a way she was, of course. She was just conscious of time hurrying by and the thought of a whole precious week away from Peter made her want to cry. Plus there was this whole situation with Chrissy that needed to be resolved, and soon. Chrissy wouldn't be put off forever; Jane was sure of that.

Peter, despite his lascivious promises, turned out to be all business as a driving teacher. After picking her up he drove her way out into the country until they were on a dirt road surrounded by farmland, "So there's nothing for you to hit," he explained. Then he stopped, turned off the ignition, and switched places with her.

The first lesson proceeded without any serious mishap, other than a near-encounter with a passing tractor. The car was an automatic and so, as Peter pointed out, "Pretty much all you have to do is step on the gas and keep it pointed where you want to go."

She practiced until it was nearly dark, then Peter had her drive back towards town until they began to encounter traffic, then had her pull over and switch places. He gave her his old "Rules of the Road" book and explained how to get her learner's permit so they could practice driving in town without fear of getting arrested.

Then to her surprise he drove her home. Not only that but he made no response to any of her flirtatious overtures and when she abandoned subtlety in favor of running her hand up the inside of his thigh he merely grabbed her wrist and returned her hand to her lap, saying nothing but turning his head and grinning wickedly at her.

Jane realized that something was up and desisted, and they rode the rest of the way home simply holding hands in a companionable silence—which contained a sharp tang of anticipation.

When they arrived at her house, Peter left the motor running as he leaned over and kissed her good night. "You go right to bed and get a good night's sleep," he said softly. "And tomorrow morning be at the end of your driveway by nine-thirty."

Jane smiled and asked, "Are you kidnapping me again?"

"No." Then his voice changed and became delightfully creepy. "...But Mr. Bad Man is."

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Oh sweet Mother of God, I'm naked, thought Chrissy. I'm in church and I'm standing naked in front of everyone—why don't they see? Why don't they notice?

Chrissy was in fact wearing some of her nicer church clothes, and over them a white choir robe, and in one part of her mind she was aware that this was true. But as she stepped forward to sing the opening of "Ave Maria" she knew that no amount of clothing could conceal her nakedness and that it was only a matter of time before she was discovered.

She had been naked since yesterday morning when she'd awoken in her back yard with no memory of how she'd gotten there. Horrified, she had dashed back inside the house and covered herself with her nightgown before tiptoeing—stopping and holding her breath with every tiny creak of the wood beneath her feet—up the stairs and into her bedroom.

As she hurried to her bed she had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and had been startled to see that she was still naked. She thought she remembered putting her nightgown back on in the kitchen...but maybe she had dreamed it.

She had been too tired to care. She'd crawled into bed and slept fitfully for a few hours—her mysteriously aching leg muscles and the itching of her insect bites keeping her from getting much rest.

When she heard her family stirring she had dragged herself from her bed, showered, dressed and gone downstairs to breakfast. She had eaten quietly, leaning over her plate so that her hair would fall forward to disguise any insect bites on her face, and not taking part in the family chatter beyond answering when spoken to. Afterwards she had excused herself, saying she had a great deal of homework, and hurried back to her room.

And discovered that she was still naked.

She had stood in front of the mirror, gaping, her mind dull. She had gotten dressed...she had! She must have—wouldn't her parents or brothers and sisters have said something? She'd looked down at herself: there were her feet in their fuzzy slippers, her legs in blue jeans, her upper body in a white blouse. But there she was in the mirror without a stitch on. She had stared, bewildered, for several minutes—could it be the mirror? She'd tried to think it through: if her family hadn't said anything she must have been dressed, mustn't she?

She'd turned and carefully walked downstairs again, listening to be sure her family was still in the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs, on the wall near the front door, was a large oval mirror. Holding her breath she'd stepped in front of it...then covered her face with her hands.

God was showing her that He knew her true nature, she was sure of it: her sinful pride and disgusting sensuality could not be hidden from Him. She'd hunched over, sobbing, then dashed back up the stairs to her room and closed the door.

She'd stayed there all that day and night, claiming illness when called for meals. Her mother had indulged her by bringing her food on trays—Chrissy diving under the covers when her mother knocked. But on Sunday morning her mother, after taking Chrissy's temperature, had insisted that she was fine and made her accompany the family to church.

...And now here she was, exposed to the whole community. Her legs were shaking and she was amazed that she was able to sing at all, but her voice was strangely steady. And although all the nicely dressed people in the pews were looking at her none of them seemed to be actually staring in shock. No one was whispering or pointing.

Maybe... Her exhausted mind seemed to move sluggishly onto a new thought, like a wind-up toy that was nearly run down. Maybe God is only showing me, as a warning.

That explained everything, she thought. So far only she was aware of her nakedness, but if she wasn't purified, and soon...

Jane wasn't sure how a person should dress to be kidnapped. She thought it over while lying in her bed, still halfway between sleep and waking.

She thought about her previous encounter with 'Mr. Bad Man'...and found herself curled up under the sheets and hugging herself in a mixture of anticipation and fear. Not a real, serious kind of fear, but the pleasurable kind, like the anxiety she'd experienced before getting on a roller coaster, knowing there was no actual danger, but still...

She figured that there was a good chance that Peter would make her do some nasty things—it was something that excited them both, it had been a while since he had done so, and it was certainly right down 'Mr. Bad Man's' alley—so it probably wouldn't be a good idea to wear anything she didn't want messed up.

She rolled over and looked out her window. It was going to be hot today--she could feel it already.

In the end she decided to keep it simple: plain white underwear and t-shirt, old red gym shorts, beat-up canvas shoes. She had a quick breakfast with her parents—the tension in her stomach not allowing her to eat much—telling them that she was spending the day with Peter, then making her way down the driveway.

She was a little bit early but saw that Peter's car was already parked near the entrance, close to the trees on one side. Strangely, it appeared to be empty and there was no sign of Peter nearby.

When she reached the car she peered in the windshield to be sure he wasn't there, then started to walk around the side, turning her head back and forth and squinting near-sightedly to see if perhaps he was in the woods.

He's hiding behind a tree, she thought. He's going to jump out and...

She felt something hard prod her in the small of her back. She gasped and whirled around.

He was all in black: boots, jeans, t-shirt. And a ski mask.

And he was pointing a gun at her.

Jane found that disturbing until she looked more closely and saw that it was made of plastic.

She started to raise her hands in the traditional hold-up manner, then settled them behind her head, trying not to smile. It was definitely 'Mr. Bad Man' and he really did look intimidating, especially with his face covered like that. She thought he must have been getting pretty hot in that ski mask. She looked down at his gun...just in time to see a drop of water fall from the end of its barrel.

"Your gun is leaking," she said, starting to grin in spite of herself.

"Shut up," he replied, jabbing the gun into her stomach and leaving a small wet spot there. "Take off your shirt."

Already? Even though she'd been looking forward to this, she wasn't really feeling very sexy yet. It was too early in the morning for one thing. Besides, they were too close to the road; anyone driving or, God forbid, walking past would be able to see them.

She folded her arms across her chest and said "No!" Not knowing whether she really meant it or not.

Which turned out to be beside the point as 'Mr. Bad Man' immediately grabbed her head in both hands and pulled it down, forcing her to bend at the waist until almost doubled up. Then, holding her head tightly between his knees he pulled her shirt up and over her shoulders, releasing her head just in time to yank her shirt all the way off. He tossed it onto the roof of the car behind her as she straightened, angry and gasping.

Without even thinking about it she aimed a slap at his masked face. He caught her by the wrist, then quickly seized the other one and held them tightly in one hand while he fished in the pocket of his jeans with the other, coming up with a pair of handcuffs.

Jane, even as she struggled to free herself, was amused to see that he had apparently gotten the handcuffs at the same toy store as the pistol, as they were obviously made of tin or aluminum. And when he suddenly spun her around, pulled her hands behind her back and snapped the handcuffs on her wrists she could tell just from the flimsy feel of them that they would break without much effort on her part.

But now she found that the struggle and her burst of anger had left her feeling more aroused than she had been before. So she allowed her resistance to become mostly verbal, slumping against the car and saying things like "No!" and "Let me go!" and "Don't!" but not really trying to stop him. Even when he suddenly jerked her shorts down and let them fall around her ankles.

Oh god, if somebody should walk past right now and see her, stripped to her underwear, hands cuffed behind her while a masked man in black...wait, what was he doing now? He'd reached around her and grabbed her t-shirt from the roof of the car and now he was... She turned her head to see...

Just as the lights went out.

He was blindfolding her! In spite of everything she knew about Peter she felt herself stiffen with fear. She had never felt so helpless and exposed. But even though she knew she could end it in an instant by saying the word they'd agreed on or even by simply snapping the silly toy handcuffs apart and removing the blindfold, she didn't. However panicky she felt at the moment, she trusted Peter and knew he was doing this for her pleasure as well as his.

And with that thought she allowed herself to relax slightly and surrender once again to the game. She stood silently as she heard him walk away and open the trunk of the car with a loud thunk. And when he returned, spun her around again, held her by the shoulders and whispered "I told you I had plans for you, my dear," in his throaty 'Mr. Bad Man' voice, his breath hot in her ear, she felt almost faint with desire and would have let him make love to her right there in broad daylight if that's what he'd wanted.

But it wasn't, as she found out when he picked her up in his arms, her red shorts and one of her shoes falling from her ankles and landing in the gravel as he did so. She had no idea where he was going or what he had in mind...

Until she felt herself being deposited onto something soft that smelled slightly of gasoline; she supposed it was the blanket he'd wrapped her in the other night. Suddenly she heard a loud clunk as the trunk lid slammed down above her, cutting off the sounds outside and making the darkness behind her blindfold completely black. And a moment later heard the car door open and shut and the engine being started.

Oh god, she really was being kidnapped.

It wasn't so bad, she concluded after the car had been in motion for a while. At least the air in the trunk was breathable, if not particularly fresh.

It had been strange and a little frightening at first, having her senses reduced to not much more than whatever she could hear and feel in the way the car sped up, slowed down, stopped or turned, but she had to admit that it was exciting. She loved the feeling of helplessness, or at least the pretense of it: of having been stripped, handcuffed and thrown in the trunk of a car to be taken God knows where to be used for someone's pleasure. Well, not just anyone's...

Peter's. She couldn't imagine doing something like this with anyone else. Who else could make her feel so deliciously powerless and so safe at the same time?

On the other hand, it was scary fun to imagine that he was someone else: the horrible Mr. Bad Man. She remembered how angry she'd been when he'd torn her shirt off, and how struggling with him had somehow aroused her. So she decided that instead of being meek and obedient she would be angry this time. She would resist. If he wanted her to submit, he was going to have to make her.

Oooo.... She hoped they got to wherever he was taking her soon.

After a while she felt the car turn and the sound of the road beneath her seemed to change. Gravel, she thought. He's taking me out in the country. A short time later the sound changed again and the car began to jostle as if the road had become rough. She wondered if they were on the same dirt road where she'd had her driving lesson.

Another turn, and suddenly the tires became almost silent except for a whisking sound as if the underside of the car was being vigorously brushed, and Jane realized that they had left the road and were driving through tall grass.

Where in the world was he taking her?

Then the car stopped, and the engine was turned off.

Jane found herself shivering again, just as she had while lying in bed that morning. Then she remembered that she was angry. As she heard the car door open and shut, followed by the sound of his approaching footsteps she struggled onto her back with her feet drawn up and facing the lid of the trunk. And as soon as she heard the key turn and the lid being raised she lashed out blindly with her feet, yelling, "You bastard!"

She felt one foot, the one still wearing a shoe, connect and heard a loud "Oof!". She heard him stagger back a couple of steps, gasping for breath, and realized she'd gotten him in the stomach. Sorry, Peter... she thought to herself, but not very seriously—and caught herself grinning. Peter was going to have to fight for everything he got!

After a moment she heard him approaching again, and drew her legs back to lash out again. But he had obviously anticipated her and she felt an arm snake in under her bent knees and spin her around, then felt his other arm beneath her shoulders as he lifted her out of the trunk.

She tried to struggle, but he threw her over his shoulder, saying, "Naughty, naughty," in his Mr. Bad Man voice. Then he smacked her on the behind hard enough to make her cry out.

"Ow!" She began to struggle again. "You bastard, give me back my clothes and take me home or I'm calling the police!"

"Oh, I don't think so," he replied, giving her another smack and beginning to walk, carrying her...where?" "I don't think you'll be doing anything..." he said with mock pleasantness as he walked. Then he smacked her behind again, even harder, and growled, "...except what I tell you to do!"

Even with a blindfold, and despite hanging head down from his shoulder, she had been able to sense the sunlight as they walked, but just then the light became dim again and the sound of his footsteps changed. They had entered a building of some sort, she was sure. She became aware of a musty, vegetative smell, and noticed the changing quality of light behind her blindfold; now lighter, now darker as they continued walking. She heard birds cooing far above her.

Peter stopped and dropped her to the ground so suddenly that she swayed dizzily on her feet for a moment. And before she could recover she felt him behind her, unfastening one of the handcuffs. Then he seized her wrists and she felt herself being pulled backward into something solid—a wooden post of some kind, dry and splintery against the skin of her back—then felt him cuffing her wrists together again, behind the post, trapping her there.

"Don't go away," she heard 'Mr. Bad Man' rasp, and then there was only the sound of his footsteps moving away from her.

Where was he going? He couldn't be leaving her there. She heard a car door open, then shut again. Maybe he could...but why, and what would she do if he did? She could get out of the handcuffs easily enough, she was sure, but then what? Even if she could figure out where she was she couldn't very well start walking home in her bra and panties. What could she... She heard his footsteps approaching again.

She let her breath out in a sigh, realizing as she did so how silly she'd been to let herself get so wound up, then smiled to herself: imagine being relieved to be trapped with someone who had stripped her, kidnapped her, handcuffed her to a post and was probably about to make her do any number of shameful things. But she was relieved, and more than that. As his footsteps drew near she suddenly became aware of her bra pressing against her erect nipples. Oh god, what was he going to do to her?

The sound of his footsteps continued on past her. She heard paper rattling—a bag, she guessed—then she suddenly felt something thin and soft around her stomach. Rope. He was tying her to the post, but why, when she was already handcuffed there? Then she felt him removing the handcuffs from her wrists...felt her arms being lifted and crossed tightly behind her head and quickly bound there with more rope. Now she was truly helpless instead of merely pretending to be...

Then her blindfold was torn away and she blinked as she took in her surroundings. They were in some kind of broken-down old barn. Gaping holes in the roof and walls allowed the sunlight to carve shining paths through the gloom and the whole structure was tilted crazily to one side as if it were about to fall down. There were rusting farm tools and machinery on the dirt floor among the scatterings of dead leaves and straw. Some apparently ancient hay bales were stacked in one corner. Wherever he had taken her was someplace people didn't come to very often.

"Welcome to my hideout," said 'Mr. Bad Man', stepping around from behind her. He had removed his ski mask but wrap-around sunglasses that made him look just as menacing--in a sexy kind of way, of course--now covered his eyes. "How nice of you to come and spend some time with me."

"Listen, you creep," she replied, with what she hoped was convincing outrage, "If you don't untie me right now you're gonna be in big trouble." She aimed a kick at him, knowing full well that he was too far away to reach, and her remaining shoe flew off and nearly hit him, causing him to duck.