Abducted Ch. 02

Chapter 2 -- The Handling of Elizabeth

It was business, but this part of it was quite pleasant business.

I take the ends of the length of rope. I hold them together, and straighten out the rope, until it has a loop in the middle. I pull the loose ends through the loop, forming a kind of slipknot. The slipknot goes around both of her ankles. I pull the knot, tight, and already, Elizabeth's ankles are fastened tight!

Now, it's just a matter of winding the double strands around, and over, and under, and through her light brown heels. Heels that help make that sweet, dewdrop ass of hers look so tasty, when she sashays around the bank manager ... and around other perverts, like me.

Four times, I wind the double strands around her ankles, before cinching them with the loose ends between, and knotting the ropes hard, twice, to keep her in place.

Then, I reach for another length of rope.

This time, I grasp her knees, and lock them in the crook of my arm. Again, loose ends, straighten, loop around her legs just above her knees, pull the ends through, and pull the double strands tight. Then, turn the rope, circle her trembling lower thighs until they are fastened, and cinched, and knotted. Tight.

I mop my brow, and admire my work. I smile to myself: "Nice. Stems. Lady."

I can't resist rubbing my hand along the length of her thighs. I squeeze them, as my hand strays upward. Something on my black glove catches the fine, delicate mesh of her sheer stocking, and causes a long, thin run in it. She jumps, and wriggles slightly, at my touch.

That's a good thing. Fear is good. She'll be well motivated to 'cooperate' with us.

I glance over my shoulder as I finish my task, and Chano is still working. He's focused, somewhat, on the tying, but his eyes and his hands also roam over the woman's figure, especially that tight little ass of hers. Somehow, Chano's fingers seem to probe and massage sweet Elizabeth's buttocks, each time he turns a coil of rope around her wrists. And each time he gropes her, it seems, he lingers a little longer, his fingers probe a little deeper, and his large hand spreads out to cover more and more of her tiny tight cheeks.

For the first time, I relax enough to enjoy watching him finish her off.

The hem of that flouncey little white dress is all the way up above her thighs. She kicks, weakly, at my leg ropes, and her sweet little bum bounces and jiggles beneath her baby-blue panties. One of her garter straps works loose, and the stocking top begins to roll down her thigh, with her struggles.

I press down on her legs, while Chano cinches and knots her wrists. He turns her over, and props her up against his broad chest. Now, I get a great upskirt view of the struggling damsel! Mmm, ... those legs do go quite a ways up, don't they? I lick my lips as I follow them up along her disheveled, torn stockings; to just that patch of creamy thigh above her stocking tops; to those teeny barely there panties, which shimmer as her legs squirm and churn inside my ropes.

I watch silently as Chano mauls sweet Elizabeth's perky little titties while he turns coil after coil of rope around her chest. Above her breasts, and below them, and crossing between them, and still circling around the pretty kidnapped hostage!

When he's finished knotting her rope in the back, he begins cupping her titties in the palms of his hands. He rolls her nipples through the nearly-see-through summer dress. He pokes and pulls at them with his long, powerful fingers. He tugs at the top of her dress, rolling it down almost to her shoulders. He plays his fingertips along the top of her dress, and plunges them wickedly into her cleavage. Then, down inside her bra.

If I didn't know any better, I'd have said that Chano was having more fun tying her up than I did, ... which I knew was impossible. I made a conscious effort to cross my legs. I am almost embarrassed by how hard I was becoming, just watching him tie her up!

Elizabeth mewls, quietly, slightly beneath that cruel duct tape gag wrapped around her head. Her eyes plead, begging for release ... but I know what kind of 'release' that Chano and I are thinking about.

Presently, I hear seagulls calling as we slow down. Out of the city, now, and down on the docks. We are pretty much safe, now.

Elizabeth grows a bit more agitated when we stop. Harris gets out, and rolls a heavy wooden door to the side. Elizabeth continues to mewl helplessly into her gag as we cruise inside the cavernous warehouse floor, and hear the door roll shut, behind us. She churns, weakly. Once more, she implores me with her eyes, to let her go, ... I think.

Harris drives us into the deepest recess of the warehouse, near the manager's office, at the far end of the floor.

I'd been impressed, so far, that the fellas had followed protocol and had remained wordless, up to this point. I clip the 'voice-box' scrambler around my neck, and break the silence: "End of the line, Miss Lady."

The scrambler makes my voice sound mechanical and alien, like something from a grade-B sci-fi movie. But the guys understand well enough: Harris climbs down and begins setting up the computers. I climb out the back and reach for the pretty hostage.

"I got this," Chano volunteered, in his un-disguised voice. Ah, well, it was almost according to protocol.

Chano grabs the pretty girl with the trim figure in one arm. He pulls her through the sliding side door. And, without breaking a sweat, or taking even a deep breath, he gathers her legs in his arms, and hoists her high up into the air! She falls, bent at the waist, over his shoulder.

The big man locks her legs in place with one, long arm. And, with his free, leather-gloved hand, he begins exploring the back of the poor girl's thighs.

I watch from behind, as he slowly plays up, and down her trembling legs; as he squeezes and gropes and massages her thighs. I see him slip his fingers between her legs, even as she tries to squeeze them tight, to keep him out. He just chuckles, and slides them deeper, and higher, up near those wispy, baby blue panties. She whimpers, and jerks, and "mmmphs!" in protest.

"Callate, mamacita!" Then, he slides his fingers nearer and higher, toward her femininity.

I almost think we were about to shoot a porno movie!

Up against a faded whitewashed wall, is a bare, light-gray mattress. Chano hauls Elizabeth to the mattress, pawing and squeezing and caressing her pretty bum all along the way. He warms her cheeks in the palm of his one, massive hand, and then finally lays her down -- gently -- upon the mattress.

Harris finally looks up from his laptop. He gawks at Elizabeth, as if seeing her in this situation for the first time. He rises, and stumbles his way across the room, and takes his place beside us.

We all gawk, just like Harris. We all admire the sight.

A vibrant, trim, very pretty woman lies before us. Her weak, futile squirming was almost sensual. She is tied at her ankles, her knees, her wrists, and her breasts; a long, wide strip of gray duct tape covers her entire face beneath her nose, and winds entirely around her head.

She mewls softly into that gag. She rolls her head slowly, helplessly from side to side.

I can almost hear her torn stockings, rubbing against each other. Her purple garter belt hung askew, around her waist, due to our rough treatment. Her pale nude stockings are torn, out of line, drooping, but still clinging to her long, silky legs. Her dress is bunched around her waist, disheveled, sliding down her one shoulder, revealed a spaghetti-strap light blue matching bra, sheer, almost see-through.

Through it, we could all see her titties, the darker circles around her ... around her erect nipples.

They aren't the only things that are erect, around here, either.

I sound out from the voice-scrambler: "Okay, gentlemen, ... you don't want her to think you're all just happy to see her. Let's get to work."

Harris goes back to his laptop, and signals that he is almost ready.

I kneel down next to the bound and gagged beauty, and ... I paw at her dress to see if those titties really would pop out by 'accident'.

"MMMph!"

"Welcome to our little lair, Miss Lady. We just need some information from you, but feel that first it is important that you fully realize our seriousness.

"I'll advise you to try very, very hard to tell us what we need. You won't want to stay around us for very long." Instinctively, I grab and squeeze my own thickening, lengthening shaft, through my trousers.

Her eyes follow me, and grow wide as she gives her head slow, little shakes.

"You won't want to stay around us, at all!"

**********

After my legs and arms are secured the brute with the roaming paws hoists me up and over so I am facing downward while he wraps my upper torso essentially using the rope to outline my tiny breasts.

The strands are wound along the top of my sternum and then along the bottom of my sternum, which secures my bra in the aforementioned down position, so my bare nipples continue to poke unhindered against the thin fabric of my dress.

The brute makes sure to rub his paws over them with every turn and twist of the rope until my nipples are absolutely throbbing with sexual excitement.

I find myself extremely embarrassed by this physical reaction and hope that neither of the two in the back of the van notices.

My hope is a delusion as the man with those eyes notices everything.

While Mr. Brute was wrapping my breasts, Mr. Eyes takes his gloved hand and slowly slides it up my thighs. I feel it catch on my stockings knowing full well that they are at the point of being trashed as this recent activity has already popped most of the clasps of my garter belt and I can feel my stockings working their way down my legs.

Mr. Eyes seems to enjoy the obvious goose bumps forming on my uncovered flesh as well as the numerous upskirts that he is getting as Mr. Brute finishes his work of tying me and pawing me simultaneously.

I am thinking that Mr. Brute is now finished with me, but he takes some special time to make sure that my nipples don't feel neglected as he now devotes his attention to pulling and kneading them through the fabric of my dress.

His fingers are large and rough and my entire body revolts to his continued groping.

I attempt to protect myself, but what can I do when I am completely bound and helpless.

Unexpectedly Mr. Brute now grabs my dress at my neck and gives it a good pull separating my top buttons from the fabric creating an opening that stops at the top of the ropes across my chest.

In contradiction, I now consider myself fortunate as my dress would have opened to my naval, if the ropes hadn't been applied prior to his latest affront.

Although my relief is short lived as Mr. Brute pulls the fabric of my dress that is between the ropes and as my buttons tear off, completely exposes my dark red and very erect nipples to the open air, along with most of my light blue bra.

Mr. Eyes obviously likes the scenery as he subtlely adjusts his legs undoubtedly making room for his male physical reaction to my new exposure.

The entire time I squirm, twist, and turn allowing Mr. Eyes to no longer wonder what color panties I am wearing.

I feel my stockings completely separate from my garter straps and the eyehooks of my garter belt give way so the next time that I am in a vertical position, it will simply drop to the floor.

Now that I have given everyone but Mr. Potter a good view of my female attributes, I feel the anger and frustration grow inside of me as the van moves towards my next destination.

I can tell that we are in a very secluded warehouse district, which adds to my despondency.

The sound of seagulls tells me that we are somewhere near the waterfront.

The van stops and Mr. Brute gets out to open a large set of doors, which when opened reveal a cavernous warehouse.

The van enters through the open doors and while Mr. Brute closes them, we continue into the recesses pulling up to a small office deep within.

Mr. Eyes switches on some contraption near his throat and says in a nerve shattering mechanical voice, "End of the line, Miss. Lady."

I look at him with what I intend to be imploring eyes, but I am afraid that he may have only seen the burst of raw sexual energy passing through my body as a result of having my clothes rearranged exposing my bare breasts and teeny panties to these brutish men.

It seems that instead of being completely terrified and upset by my current situation, my deepest and darkest latent desires of abduction and submission are beginning to overrule any normal response.

Mr. Eyes rises to take a hold of me, but Mr. Brute intercedes grabbing my arms and lifting me easily over his shoulder while his free arm explores my bare thighs and nylon covered bottom.

I attempt to squeeze my legs together as he slides his hand between them moving upward towards my moistening kitty.

His gloved hand presses hard against the thin nylon fabric covering my swelling lower lips.

I am again thankful since a bare hand would easily have felt how wet my panties have become, but since his hand is gloved he seems oblivious to my aroused condition.

Although I am quite sure that I have left a slight wet mark on his thumb.

He then proceeds to work my gluteal muscles as he grabs my cheeks and squeezes hard letting me know that he is in control.

I am carried to a mattress sitting on the concrete floor where I am, much to my surprise, lowered gently to the ground.

As my feet hit the mattress first, my garter belt slides down my legs and joins the ropes wrapped around my ankles. At this point my sheer stockings have found themselves hanging loosely around my calves, and my dress is riding so high upon my waist that all three men stand staring at my discomposure and almost full exposure.

My sheer balconette bra is now clearly visible through my missing buttons and my nipples aren't just peeking out, but are in full glare of my captor's headlamp sized eyes.

I would be embarrassed, but at this point it would be a waste of energy.

I am quite sure that my captors believe that I am expressing by displeasure by moaning into my gag, but the moans have nothing to do with my mental state. They derive from something much lower down and are directly associated with my exposed areas.

Mr. Eyes tells the others to get to work, as it seems that I am about to be interrogated.

While the other two get busy, Mr. Eyes pulls at my chest area causing my breasts to leave the safety of my bra entirely and my nipples to literally pop to full alert in response to the cool air of the warehouse, or at least that is what I am trying to convince myself.

At the same time he tells me not to worry, as all they want is information.

"While I am almost undressed, how am I not supposed to worry? What the hell does he think?"

He then moves his hand down to his crotch and adjusts his emerging erection saying something about me not wanting to stay in their company for very long.

I stare at his groin as beads of saliva form in my mouth and decide that by vigorously shaking my head I should be able to convince him that all I want is to be let go.

I can barely admit to myself that I am extremely turned on by everything that has transpired in the last 30 minutes, so I am desperate to make sure that Mr. Eyes doesn't know.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, Mr. Eyes is the bank customer with the fedora. The same man that always gave me a strange feeling of raw sexual energy anytime that he was around me or even looked at me.

"Oh my God, What have I gotten myself into?"