The Present

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She is given away as a gift.
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Ashson
Ashson
8,486 Followers

My name is Sonya. My ancestry is Swedish and this is shown in my characteristics. I am tall, blonde (a true platinum blonde, at that), blue eyes, light creamy skin (which burns fast if I'm not careful), with blue eyes and a (in my opinion) sensational figure. Picture your typical cheerleader wet dream and I'm probably the girl who's in them.

I don't have a current boyfriend, but that is by choice. I like strong men, and I'm talking character as much as muscle. Muscle might give a man strength but intelligence will help build a strong character.

I have a full time job but I am also currently undergoing a post-graduate course at night school. One needs qualifications if you're going to get anywhere in the business world. I find my looks will get me interviews and the offer of a job, but when you take a job you're going to have to show that you can do it. In a cold business climate non-performance will have you out the door no matter how good you look.

I had left work one day and was strolling along the street, taking my time heading towards my school. I intended to get there early and grab a cheap meal at the school cafeteria before the lecture I wanted to attend started.

So there I was, walking along, minding my own business, and this young man accosted me. I don't mean that in a bad way, just that he stepped in front of, looking a little embarrassed, saying "excuse me?"

He looked harmless. Just your average young man, about my age, maybe a year or two older. We were in the middle of the street and it wasn't as though he was going to try to grab me and drag me into any nearby bushes (there weren't any), so I stopped with an enquiring look.

"Um, your hair," he said. "I think it's fabulous and I commented on it to my mate but he said it's probably dyed. I told him there was no way anyone could dye hair that well and we finished up making a bet on it. It's only a beer, but I would like to win it. Ah, could you confirm if the hair is your natural colour."

He didn't lay it out quite like that. He blushed and stuttered and was plainly embarrassed but determined, and I got the drift of what he meant. I had no doubt whatsoever that his mate was standing back watching him make a fool of himself and laughing.

"Perfectly natural," I assured him. "It's a heritage from my Swedish ancestry. I'm glad you like it. Enjoy your beer at your mate's expense. Tell him I think you have a fine discernment in assessing things."

The man grinned and waved to someone, giving the thumbs up sign. I continued on my way, him stepping to the side to let me pass. I didn't think anything of the incident. I'd had similar pickup lines in the past and this guy didn't look as though he was going to push it any further. Not that he would have got very far. Not my type.

I'd just barely passed the man when this van pulled up just in front of me. The driver hopped out and came around to the side and opened up the sliding door on the side of the van. I noticed him doing it but it didn't mean anything to me. Why should it? People carry things in vans and open the doors to take things out.

They also open the doors to put things in, I found. I was moving past the van when I was grabbed from behind and the young man with the question was pushing me into the van, scrambling in after me.

The driver slammed the door, rushed around to his side, scrambled in, and drove off. It was all very neatly done. Unless someone had actually been watching no-one would have noticed. Just like that I'd been abducted.

The back of the van was shut off from the driver's partition and it was empty, apart from a long bench-like seat along one side. I could see hinges at a couple of spots on the seat and guessed it was also a storage compartment. When the van took off I automatically sat down and the guy who'd pushed me in sat down as well, but further along the bench, not trying to get next to me.

"Listen," he said, before I could turn on him, attacking him well and truly up there on my to-do list. "We're not going to hurt you, I swear. Me and Bob are not going to lay a finger on you. I just need you to see a friend of ours. We owe him and we think you'll be able to solve a little problem for us. That's all. After you've seen him we'll take you back to where we picked you up."

"Forget it," I snapped. "I'm out of here. If I have to, I'll jump."

"Ah, you won't, actually. Bob will have locked the door. Neither of us can get out until he unlocks it."

He seemed completely unconcerned when I tried to slide open the door and I found he was right. It was locked. I was stuck.

I sat down again, breathing threats of what would happen to any finger that they tried to lay on me. He just shrugged, lifting his hands in a hands-off gesture, supposedly to assure me of my safety. Somehow I didn't feel really safe.

We'd been driving for about fifteen minutes before the van pulled up. The driver hopped out and I could hear him calling to someone named Gordon, saying he should check out the back of the van. I then heard someone unlocking the van and the door slid open. This man, I assume he was Gordon, was standing there, and he zeroed in on me instantly with a somewhat startled, "What the hell?"

Gordon, from what I could see, was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He was over six foot tall, well built, very solid looking, but not fat. Dark hair, which was neatly cut, tanned, and dressed in what I would describe as smart casual. His features were regular and he was quite distinguished looking. He did not seem to be the sort of man who had friends that were a pair of kidnappers.

The guy in the van with me started talking.

"Happy birthday, Gordon. Bob and me had been wondering what we could get you for a present and then we saw this chick walking down the street. We knew you liked blondes so I asked her and she swears that she's a natural blonde, so we grabbed her for you to play with for a while. Um, we've only borrowed her, though, so we'll have to put her back where we got her."

How nice. They'd only borrowed me and would put me back afterwards, as though I was a book from the library.

I used my eyes to laser Gordon to death but it didn't work. Unphased, he hopped into the van, telling the guy already there to grab Bob and beat it. He'd talk to them later. Oh, yes, he also thanked them very nicely for his present, it being so unexpected and all, but it was just the sort of thing he liked.

The kidnapper, I still didn't know his name, hopped out of the van, slamming the door and leaving me alone with Gordon.

"Hi," he said. "My name's Gordon. Sorry about this but there's just so much training you can give an idiot and I guess they never got the message about grabbing girls off the street. You are?"

"Sonya. I'd appreciate it if you'd release me, immediately."

"Sonya. Nice name. You've got the figure to make a great Red Sonya but the wrong colour hair. Maybe we should set up White Sonya as a rival comic book."

I just looked at him, waiting to be released.

"Hum," he said. "No sense of humour. Probably dropped it when the boys grabbed you, which is understandable. Don't worry about being released. I'll ensure that you're dropped off exactly where they picked you up."

He looked me over carefully before continuing.

"Well, I'm glad to see they didn't take your clothes off."

So was I, I can assure you, but they would have had a struggle. I wouldn't have submitted quietly.

"They wouldn't have fucking dared," I said, trying to put menace into my voice.

"Oh, they'd have dared, all right. Too dumb to know what they shouldn't do. And please don't swear. There's no need for it. Just say what you have to say without unwanted adjectives. The reason they didn't undress you is simply because they know I prefer to unwrap my own presents."

Arrogant pig. I didn't say anything. I'd asked to be released. I had nothing more to say. Gordon did.

"You're probably worried about what's going to happen. Let me say right from the start that I won't be having sex with you."

OK. That was a relief, but I still kept my mouth shut.

"Unless you ask me to, of course. I am a sucker for blondes. However, I am going to have to unwrap my present. The boys would be terribly disappointed if I didn't, after they've gone to all this trouble to fetch you here."

It took me a second to catch on to what he was saying and even then I couldn't believe his gall. He wanted me to strip?

"It will be a long cold day in hell before I take off even one fucking shoe," I said slowly but distinctly. "Your friends are going to have to put up with the fucking disappointment."

"Ah, your language. I did mention that I don't like it. Please don't slip up again. I don't want you to take your clothes off. Like I said, I prefer to unwrap my own presents."

"You wouldn't fucking dare," I said, my voice the merest whisper.

It turned out he would fucking dare. He was fast and he was strong. I'm not exactly slow and weak but he had hold of me before I could dodge and then he proceeded to undress me and there was nothing I could do to stop him. He just held me and undid everything that would undo, zips, buttons and catches, without taking a single item of clothing off me.

With everything undone he started to remove my clothes. With nothing to hold them in place he found it simple to push and tug and gently pull on the different things I wore and one by one they landed on the floor of the van. It was frustrating, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. Whatever I tried he countered almost casually, and another item of clothing would bite the dust.

It was not only frustrating, it was absolutely infuriating but, worse than that, it was also oddly exciting. I mentioned I like my men strong and he was showing his strength, both physical and mental. He had a very strong personality and it was hard to fight him.

Then I was naked and sitting on his knee, my hands held behind my back. I help my head high and back straight, defiant. I also, I must admit, held my head high and my back straight because that position prominently displayed my breasts, showing that they were young and shapely enough to stand out without support. (Bring on your pencil. I'd pass the test.) Mind you, I was slightly irritated to find that not only my breasts were standing out, but so were my nipples.

Gordon only needed one hand to hold my wrists. His other hand slipped between our bodies and he unzipped himself, pulling his erection out of his trousers. I refused to look at it but I could feel it there, pressing against my side. He then reached up and lightly touched each of my nipples, sending little thrills through me.

"Very nice," he said as he touched them, and it was his turn to speak very quietly. "Are you ready for some hot and steamy sexual activity?"

"No fucking way," I said, determined to be defiant until the end.

"OK, but be sure to let me know when you are. In the meantime, while we're waiting, let's address the problem of your language. You don't seem to take hints that I don't like it very seriously. Let me explain my preferences another way."

The van seemed to spin around me and I found myself face down across Gordon's knee. I could still feel his erection pressing against my side, but it was now pressing in a different direction. I didn't want it pressing in any direction.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, and promptly wished I hadn't asked the question when his hand landed on my bottom.

It hurt. He had an enormous hand and it was as hard as a rock. It seemed to be covering my whole bottom and my whole bottom was stinging from the force of the spank.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I wailed, and wailed again as his hand landed again.

"I am trying to get through your thick skull that I do not approve of young ladies swearing," he said. "Six times you've have been gratuitously offensive with your language, and I did warn you several times."

His hand came down again.

"I trust you're counting these," he said. "Once for each time you swore."

I wasn't exactly counting the spanks but I knew how many had landed. Intuitive knowledge perhaps, but the number was branded onto my bottom.

"It doesn't matter how many," I squalled. "That's enough. I've learnt my lesson. No more swearing. I promise."

"It does matter," he contradicted, his hand coming down again. "Now that I've started I think I should follow through and do a proper job."

His hand came down for a fifth time.

"OK. That's it," I yelled hurriedly. "That's six. You can stop now."

Well, it was six when his hand came down again, along with a thoughtful comment.

"No, that was only five. Here's the sixth. And, of course, I have to give you an extra for lying."

At least that's the last, I thought as his hand came down again.

It turned out it wasn't. He kept right on paddling me.

"What are you doing? You said six," I protested.

"Well, yes, but that was for punishment spanks. Smarted, didn't they? These ones are more for fun spanks."

The current lot of spanks were a lot lighter than the first lot, I had to admit. Then I gave a shocked gasp. The current lot were also a bit careless on where they landed.

"Do you mind?" I protested when his hand slapped across my pussy, caressing it when it lifted away.

"No," he said simply, with his hand again landing on the same spot.

The hand that had been on my back holding me down moved at this point, reaching under me to start rubbing my breasts. Or breast, singular, I should say, as he could only reach one the position I was in. I started squirming about, promptly becoming acutely aware of the erection leaning against my side. I was rubbing it when I moved and he was probably enjoying it. But if I didn't move he'd assume that I wanted him to caress my breasts. And he was still giving me a light pussy spanking which was doing all sorts of weird and wonderful things to me. No. Scratch that wonderful. I didn't like it. I wouldn't let myself like it.

I couldn't help it, I squirmed, and to hell with it if I was stroking his cock as I did it. His hands seemed to be everywhere and they knew precisely what to do to get a reaction from my body.

The whole thing just wasn't fair. How could you tell someone to stop touching you when you couldn't use properly expressive language? Somehow, crying, "Oh please, sir, desist with your wandering hands," failed to carry the same message as, "Get your fucking hands off me or I will castrate you with a blunt penknife." If I tried the first I'd be a laughing stock and he'd ignore me. If I tried the second I'd be swearing and he'd spank me, which was how this whole touching thing started. Talk about being lose/lose.

I did try, though.

"Will you please stop smacking me down there?" I asked, a request polite enough to avoid penalty.

He promptly stopped smacking me, didn't he? Oh, yes, he did. Now he was rubbing me and poking me, exploring my body in greater detail. I found myself twisting and squirming more than ever, trying to get away from those fiendish touches. For some reason, the idea of pushing myself off his knee and onto the floor of the van just never occurred to me. I just stayed where he'd put me across his lap, protesting feebly.

I was just a mess when he stopped, just lying across his lap, squirming ineffectually. The van seemed to spin around me again and I found myself lying on my back on the bench. He stood up, or as much as he could stand, what with the low roof, and stripped of his clothes. He was, I thought, a man who looked a lot larger when he was naked. Talking their clothes off diminishes some people. Not Gordon.

I was lying up against the side of the van. Gordon took my leg and just casually drew it of the bench, letting it dangle over the side, my foot on the floor. He was going to have sex with me. I just knew it. Oddly enough I also knew that if I said no, and said it firmly, he wouldn't. I tried to. Honest I did, but my mouth just seemed unable to form the word.

So instead of me saying no and getting off the bench I just lay there, watching him move into position between my legs. He leaned forward, using his cock to gently stroke my lips, then settling in one spot and pushing firmly forward.

I could see his cock leaning against my lips. I saw them parting and closing around him, and I saw his shaft disappearing into my body, and all I did was watch it happen.

Well, that wasn't quite all I did. I also felt it happening, his cock gently invading me, taking me, driving firmly along my passage as though it had every right to do so. I wanted to say, "Oh, no," in despairing tones, but found myself saying, "Oh, oh, oh," in highly excited tones, each oh seeming to be higher pitched than the previous one.

Gordon sank his shaft deep, not stopping until it was fully committed. He paused at that point, looking at me to see if I was going to say or do anything. I was doing something all right. I was waiting for him to stop stuffing around and start getting with it. He seemed to sense this and started off.

Started off? Ha! I laugh. What Gordon did was collect on his birthday present. Then, seeing he was having another birthday next year, he collected on that. And on the next. He just kept right on collecting.

He started off at a nice steady pace and, seeing I was committed, I matched his pace, moving with him, and it was most enjoyable. After a while he increased his speed and I thought he was going for his end run. A bit soon, maybe, but I figured that with a bit of effort he could get me home. I anticipated too soon. This was just his new standard speed and I had to adjust to it and keep going, even though I was starting to think I was entitled to a climax.

So we're bouncing along at this new speed, and the whole van was probably bouncing along with us. I'm moaning and pleading and muttering silly little things, my arousal complete, excitement roiling my insides and turning me to liquid heat, my passions fully engaged and working with him.

This time when he sped up I knew it was his end run, and I was thinking, with what limited sense I still had, that it was about time and I was ready, ready, ready.

Not that he cared. Gordon settled down to another nice rate, banging away like he's got all day and part of tomorrow in which to finish. I have to admit I was starting to feel a little desperate. I don't know how he was doing it but he was keeping me just below the point where I would climax. I was clinging to him, my legs wrapped around him and he was driving in harder than ever and still I was waiting.

I gave up. I was, I decided, going to have my climax here and now and if he didn't like it, bad luck. I was clinging, bucking hard under him, putting my all into it and I could just feel that climax closing around me. That molten pool deep inside me was growing and it was going to burst its banks and flood me and I didn't care.

Then it was all fire and fury and I was screaming and Gordon was groaning and taking me even harder, his own climax triggered by mine, and he was spilling his load just as fast as he could.

Eventually I gathered enough breath to ask a question.

"What happened to I won't be having sex with you unless you ask for it?"

He had the gall to look surprised.

"Be fair, Sonya," he said. "With a figure like yours of course you were asking for it. Your nipples were out there signalling their readiness and your pussy was definitely ripe. How could I do anything else but try to satisfy your needs?"

What could I say? Nothing that would dent his arrogant hide.

I glared at him and he just laughed, propped up on the bench next to me, idly running his hand over my breasts, lightly teasing it. I couldn't even work up the nerve to push his hand away. Besides, it felt nice.

Ashson
Ashson
8,486 Followers
12