Capture in The Woods Ch. 4

If the above is not for you then please do not read, as you are in no way forced to now that you know what it contains. Just because I write about this subject, does not mean I condone it in any way outside of fantasy. And, as for those people who sent me threatening feedback then, all I have to say is that, despite this warning, you seem as compelled to read my stories as those people who openly admit to enjoying them. Enough said!

Remember the difference between fantasy and reality is as fundamental as the difference between right and wrong.

* * * * * *

She could sense a figure walking towards her. Debbie Fielding had been watching him all day, as she always did, and now he was approaching her. John Denton, the one man in the office she would die for. What could he possibly want with her? Debbie knew what she hoped he wanted, but that was the substance of dreams, or was it?

She could feel his body invade her space as the aroma of his aftershave made her heady. In an attempt to remain cool Debbie risked ignoring him completely, but he was single minded in his quest to make contact.

"Meet me in two minutes, in the filing room between rows L and M."

Debbie looked up, puzzled. He looked down, smiling.

"I want you, now, it's that simple." With that he was away, walking past her desk leaving his scent lingering in Debbie's nostrils. For a few seconds Debbie was dazed. Then, almost as if in a trance, she got up and followed in his tracks.

After opening the door and descending the flight of old stone stairs, Debbie found herself in the dimly lit filing room. Row after row of old files. There was no one around. Nervously she peered down the long dark passage between rows L and M. No one. She was already horny from the thoughts of what she would do with Emma this evening. This little escapade had made her shake with lust.

As Debbie began to walk slowly down the dark alleyway a pair of lingering eyes watched her tall, tanned, tawny body glide as if on air. The same eyes drank in the sight of her long bare legs and lovely hips wrapped in a loose, short, very short, black skirt. She also wore a tight fitting yellow top with three quarter sleeves that hugged her firm breasts.

Suddenly from nowhere a hand clamped over her mouth. Debbie tried to scream but couldn't.

"You look more like a fucking cheer leader than a Personal Assistant to the Divisional Manager, you little whore."

Debbie was shocked at the language used by John, but his hand remained tight over her mouth. He felt her body relax as he cupped her bottom from behind. Releasing her mouth he spoke.

"Do you want me?" he questioned simply. Debbie turned her face and kissed him. Their tongues mixed as mutual passion overtook them. Breaking away momentarily Debbie gasped,

"Are we safe in here, what if some one comes?"

"Oh, someone will, but we're quite safe," he laughed. John moved his lips onto her neck. She sighed. His left hand moved up and cupped her breast, feeling her nipple become erect under his touch. Debbie groaned and pushed herself into him. He gripped her hair and pulled hard. Again she would have screamed had it not been for the tongue in her mouth.

For a brief moment her body went rigid as his hand stroked the cleft between her bottom cheeks, exposed by the red thong she was wearing. But Debbie soon relaxed as his finger crept under the lacy material and began to stroke her wet slit.

"Oh, feel how wet I am," she groaned wantonly. John pushed his invading digit further home and Debbie squealed with delight. One became two and then three as he ploughed deep within her soaking cunt. Debbie was on fire now, gyrating her bottom against his trousers under which his erect cock strained.

"Oh, yesssssssssss," she hissed. John's free hand yanked her hair harder and she writhed under his touch.

"I'm com… com… comingggggggggggg!" she whispered loudly, still aware of where they were. Then she came, covering his fingers with a copious amount of thick juice.

Gradually she came to rest and slumped, tired, against his body. He removed his fingers from her now sensitive slit and wiped them on her yellow top.

"Hey," Debbie objected, it's only two in the afternoon, I have to work again in these clothes."

John laughed at the thought of Debbie returning to her seat smelling of her own juices. She reached down and adjusted her panties, peeling them out from between her pussy lips. Straightening her skirt she made to leave. Walking away from John she turned her head flirtatiously, and beamed a radiant smile.

"Thanks," she said. John smiled back. Debbie reached the end of the aisle and turned to head for the door.

"Whoa there, slow down," it was Dave Fenwick, John's mate.

"Do me a favour love, I need to get a file from G, get me this from L will you. Debbie was so aware of her recent orgasm, that she was sure he would smell her.

"Er, yes, yes of course," she stammered pleased to get away from him. She returned down the corridor from where she had come.

"It's Dave," she muttered to John, "he wants this file."

"Better get it then," replied John.

Debbie was a little upset at his dismissive reaction but nonetheless she began to climb the ladder to the top shelf moving carefully from one step to the next. With each step she could sense the increased focus on her bottom. Turning her head she looked down and saw both John and Dave staring up her skirt at the gorgeous tanned flesh at the top of Debbie's luscious thighs.

"What the fuck….." she asked. The two men just smiled.

"Come down," said John firmly. Somewhat reluctantly and with no-where else to go, Debbie descended. Upon reaching ground level she was grabbed by John, who kissed her hard. Debbie felt her lustful feelings rise once more and she kissed him back. Dave stood behind her. She felt him raise her short skirt and cup her buttocks. Her struggles were muffled by John's kiss and his tight grip on the back of her head, as Dave slipped her thong to one side. With little ceremony Debbie's wet cunt was filled by Dave's erect cock. She peeled her mouth away from John.

"No, please, not like this, please. Oohhhhhh.." She was fucked, hard, from behind by Dave. He pulled her yellow top free of her skirt and moved his hands under the fabric, cupping and feeling her firm breasts. Debbie moaned as she was raped in the filing corridor.

"Fuck me you bitch," spat Dave as her rode her. Then he squeezed her breasts painfully and came, shooting his massive load into her. He rammed his cock home until he had filled her. Then he withdrew. Debbie fell to her knees. Taking his cock in his hands Dave wiped the stringy residue of semen into her hair. Debbie couldn't stop him.

Suddenly she was pulled back to her feet. Her arms were held high above her head as her thong was, once again, moved to one side. This time John positioned his cock head against her cum soaked pussy. He shoved and once more Debbie was impaled.

"Ohhhhhhh, please John, not here, no please." He laughed and fucked her hard. Once again she writhed under his touch, this time from his thick knob, as she was raped for a second time. He looked at her directly.

"This could have been so nice," she cried at him.

"Shut it," he ordered as his strokes became faster. Then he too came, once again filling her with his spunk. She groaned, feeling utterly drained and used. He withdrew leaving a trail of sperm across her short pleated skirt. Debbie collapsed onto the floor. Dave bent down and reached for her groin. Taking her panties into his fist he pulled, ripping the fabric away from her body. She grunted as her cunt was exposed. Debbie was pulled tearfully to her feet.

"We'll take the lift up," laughed John. The two men stepped into the lift, pushing Debbie ahead of them. She could not look at the two men, as she started to tuck her top into her skirt. Quickly her hands were moved away leaving her top hanging loose and she was slapped hard.

"Owwww," she screamed holding her face.

"You will get out here, just as you are."

"No, please, you can't. I have no panties on and my skirt is so short."

"And you smell of cum. Tough. Get out slut." With that Debbie was pushed out as John and Dave went up to the next floor, distancing themselves from her abused body.

Debbie stood in the lift foyer. She quickly tucked her top back in, but her bottom was naked, and she felt utterly humiliated.

She headed to her desk, and made her mind up to leave early today. She endured several accusing looks, especially from female colleagues. She desperately needed to leave as quickly as possible. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

Looking up she cried out. John was at her desk. What could he want now?

"Hi Debs, leaving early are we?" he said loudly. Debbie ignored him and continued to get her things together.

"You'll need these," he laughed. Debbie looked up in time to see him drop a pair of brief white panties on her desk. He must have had all this planned, a fact that hurt Debbie even more. It seemed as if the entire office had stopped their work to sample her humiliation.

"Just fuck off," she cried and, picking up the panties, she ran out into the corridor and pressed for the lift to take her away from this nightmare.

She drove her car home at high speed oblivious to the other traffic and pedestrians. It was not until she came to a halt outside her house that she stopped to compose herself. She would go straight in and upstairs. She would clean herself up and change. Her mum would not have to know why she was home early and, after all, she had Emma to play with again this evening. Feeling a little more cheery she got out of the car and went into the house. Letting herself in with her key, she headed for the stairs.

"Hi mum, only me. I've finished early today. I'll be down soon."

Debbie did not hear the chuckle of Don Michael sitting comfortably in her front room, nor did she see the smile of his four burly henchmen when they heard her lovely female voice.

* * * * *

Samantha Fielding, Debbie's stunning 41 year old mother and the equally beautiful 20 year old Emma Ross had been taken by their captors, the two men, to a secluded beach. Both girls stood on the sand at the waters edge and watched, horrified, as a line of 15 men filed through the rocks and into the cove.

Samantha had been given clothes to cover her pierced and whipped body and now wore a clinging red dress with a pair of white panties underneath. Emma was wearing a white see-through top with a loose fitting white sarong and lacy white underwear underneath.

All the way from the woods to the beach that they were now at, the girls had been blindfold and tied. It had been an unbearably long journey during which Samantha worried about the fate of her daughter Debbie, as well as her own suffering. Emma was also concerned, but mixed that feeling with a tingle of excitement at her predicament.

Both girls now listened as the men barked out orders. They addressed Emma first.

"On your knees bitch." Emma fell immediately to the sand. She had already learned, painfully, not to disobey the men. She sensed a presence behind her and screamed in pain as her long golden hair was pulled harshly backwards forcing her head upwards.

Emma closed her eyes as the sun glared into her beautiful face. Walking around his captive the man holding her could see the slender beauty at his mercy in all of her glory. He could see her rounded breasts covered briefly by the white string top that clearly showed her skimpy bra underneath. He could also see Emma's equally skimpy pants covered by a knee length white sarong. He could feel his erection hardening.

"Take the sarong off for us," he commanded, "and do not move your head." Emma, paused, delaying the action that would reveal her then semi naked and whip marked body.

"Do it," he ordered. Remembering her previous beatings and numerous floggings, she reached for the large knot. A second or two later she had the flimsy material undone and floating gently down onto the sand. By virtue of her position, Emma's groin was thrust out. Each of the 17 men surrounding her drooled openly.

"Hands on your head," came the next order. Again she complied. Emma felt her wrists held securely as were her ankles. She dare not look but sensed further agony as the man knelt down beside her. She felt something cold on her thigh. It was a knife. She screamed.

"Calm down my beauty," came the patronizing comment. "Now my men and I will fuck you. First we will rip off your clothes, then we will hold you down on the sand and, one by one, we will fuck you. The edge to our little game is that the one of us who makes you come will receive the prize money we have all gambled. So, you had better come quickly, because if you don't we will keep screwing you 'til you do."

Emma was nearly sick. But she dare not move.

"Oh yes, I nearly forgot. For each fuck you receive you will be cut right here on your thigh, so that you will have a permanent reminder of our time together."

Emma screamed as she was pinned down. She screamed louder as her panties were torn away. She groaned as the first cock entered her.

By the time they were finished and Emma was left gasping after her orgasm, she had 21 small cuts on her left thigh!!

Samantha had watched all this in horror. They had forced her to witness the horrific gang rape suffered by Emma, who no longer felt a tingle of excitement just a complete humiliation. Samantha knelt now, at their mercy, on the sand. They had watched her in silence once they had finished with Emma until Samantha saw their groins harden and knew it was her turn next.

"What are you going to do to me?" Samantha whimpered. Her mind raced as she was at the halfway point between confusion and terror.

"Kneel…. your knees wide apart….hands flat on the sand….and do it at the water's edge….now!"

Samantha had obeyed every command. Her gorgeous long hair fell around her shoulders, and her rounded, firm, bra-less breasts battled for freedom with the clinging red fabric of her dress. Leaning forward slightly to comply with their full instructions Samantha's bottom was raised and highlighted the outline of her sexy thong panties.

She looked scared, very scared.

"While we fuck you, think of Debbie your gorgeous daughter. She is already in the hands of Don Michael. We owed him a fortune and he has wiped our slate clean in return for the use of Debbie. Think what that might mean."

Samantha began to sob.

"So Samantha, choose your fate. We can rape you, whip you or stake you out on the sand and place crabs on your naked body. Which will it be?" she was asked gleefully.

Samantha was shocked to her core. She couldn't speak let alone select an answer.

"Oh it goes without saying that you will be stripped naked whatever the choice. Come on choose, we can't wait any longer. Come on!!!!"

"I..I..I..I..c'ant…I..I..can't ….." she muttered incoherently.

"Okay you stupid bitch, then it will be all three,"

"No please, no,no,no……" she begged as her beautiful slender body was thrown between the gang and piece by ripped piece she was stripped of her red dress and white panties.

Some time later, as Samantha was thrown onto the grassy dunes, she winced as the lash marks that had whipped down on her body mixed with the agonizing claw marks of the crabs. She awaited the seventeenth, and final, cock to inflict yet another painful rape upon her beaten but still beautiful body.

Samantha had been well and truly defeated.

* * * * *

A large hand gripped the curtains in the front room of the Fielding house. Debbie had changed her come stained clothes for a tight, short, cropped sports vest and a pair of brief white cotton shorts. She looked stunning, as usual. Unfortunately, for Debbie, she came bounding down the stairs rejuvenated by the thoughts of Emma, straight into the arms of one of Don Michael's heavy bouncers.

Before she had the chance to speak, Debbie had been gagged, blindfold and her wrists lashed cruelly behind her back. She now knelt before Don Michael her arms held straight and high behind her on a rope lead. Her body was forced down and her head bowed. She was confused, aching and terrified.

"Well my pretty one, you are even more beautiful than I was made to believe. I shall have hours of fun stripping, torturing and fucking you."

Debbie began to shake with fear as she muffled her terrified protest into the ball gag. She sensed a presence near to her as Don Michael knelt down at her side. She winced as he let his fingers roam lightly over her firm breasts, and sucked in her breath as he moved her lovely long hair away from her neck and kissed her softly, licking her skin.

Then, suddenly, changing the mood in a split second he grabbed her hair and pulled it harshly back causing pain both to her head and her shoulders, as she was pulled in the opposite direction to her natural position given the fact that her wrists were held high behind her back.

She would have been even more scared, if that were possible, if she had seen the large bulging erection now present in Don Michael's trousers.

"Bring her," he ordered simply, standing up. Debbie was pulled to her feet, and dressed only in her skimpy top and shorts, she was lead barefoot out into the street, where, surrounded by the 5 men, she was bundled into the back of a white van.

* * * * *

Having endured a journey that seemed endless, Debbie had felt the van screech to a halt and she had been bundled, still tied, gagged and blindfold, out of the van and into a building. She now stood in the middle of a large open room. The 5 men who had first captured her had been joined, unbeknown to Debbie of course, by another 12 of Don Michael's team.

"String her up," Don Michael stated simply. Debbie felt her arms stretched high behind her as the rope was looped over a pulley in the high ceiling and fastened to a turning lever on the wall. This action forced Debbie into a position that saw her bent over, her back at a parallel to the ground and her arms pulled high and straight. It also meant that a turn of the handle stretched her even more over the pulley.

"This is Debbie Fielding. All say hello to her." Each man, in turn, gave his greeting to Debbie.

"Hi Debbie," "Hello Debbie," "Hiya Debs," and so it went on.

Although she was gagged and blindfold, she could hear quite clearly that there were at 17 voices that were all different. She could imagine what this meant to her immediate future.

Don Michael moved to her. She felt his hands roam over her lovely firm bottom, covered by the tight fabric of the brief shorts. Pressing his hardened groin into her, Don Michael reached forward and undid the gag. Debbie spat it out spluttering to get her mouth moist again.

"Please, please don't hurt me. What do you want, what have I done?" she begged once her voice had returned.

"Shut it bitch," came the stinging reply, " you will be our whore and our toy for as long as we want you to be. Open her mouth up."

Debbie did not know what this meant, but she was soon to find out.

Her initial protests were quickly muffled as a gag like device was fastened around her head, but instead of the ball been forced into her mouth Debbie felt, to her great discomfort, a padded wire shape extending into her mouth and pressing down onto her tongue. The opening forced her mouth into a wide O shape into which, she knew, any phallic like object could be placed. The very presence of the device was bad enough, but the fact that it was three inches across the opening held Debbie's jaw very wide indeed.

Debbie shook her head frantically from side to side, until she felt her long hair bunched into a pony tail and pulled hard. A piece of thick, new, white rope was wound tightly around the start point of the bunch and then the single white strand was platted with Debbie's own hair making release from the rope impossible. As the plat grew the more Debbie's head was pulled up and her neck painfully stretched. Once complete, the remaining end of the rope was secured to the other rope length stretching her arms. This now meant that if the handle on the wall was cranked both her arms and her neck would be agonisingly stretched.