The Abduction of Cheryl

Days and then weeks went by. She often abstained from sexual activity so she wouldn't waste her orgasms beforehand. Sometimes she went around with sopping wet panties thinking this was it, her strap-on rapist was about to strike... gulping with a certain fear and anticipation; other times, out of impatience, she wondered if she had been the victim of a con game.

3.

Cheryl finished off her light breakfast and her morning cup of tea. She bent over and tied her shoelaces tight. She knew she was going to end up sweating, but there was a nippy breeze... so she zipped into her warmest track jacket and turned up its collar along with that of her polo shirt. A sports bra was a necessity- Cheryl was well-endowed. Cheryl's figure was voluptuous in the pastel-blue track suit, which was snugly fit and drawn tight over her breasts, ass and thighs.

Passing a row of houses on her street, she crossed a small playground to the artificial lake where she often walked or jogged. By the end of her first lap, a three-quarter of a mile loop, she was sweating. She took a brief rest behind a boathouse, stretching herself at a picnic bench, when she heard footsteps behind her. The old boathouse had a doorway on the opposite side and a few dusty windows. Someone must have been concealed inside.

As she turned around, all she could see was a blurry figure lunging at her. Cheryl momentarily forgot her call-girl appointment and was seized with a panic. She pissed her track pants as this frightening figure put its hand over her mouth and held her tightly by the arms... Cheryl heard a woman's voice, close enough to her head that she felt the soft lips on her ear, "Cheryl, don't try anything or I'll hurt you. I know you're a slut. I'm going to rape and sodomize you with my hard strap-on cock!" The woman's enormous breasts were soft and luxurious, pressing into her back. Cheryl felt a warm, soft belly pressed against her hips. Ominously, as the woman moved in closer, a hot shaft poked against her ass and felt like a hard, erect cock! A sudden hard push into her rear made it clear what that cock was intended for. "You'll be pleading for this, slut! You reek of ass-slut!" Then she heard the sound of wheels crunching on the gravel roadway. Her fear turned to relief and embarrassment. This was it! But her pants were wet with hot piss and were steaming in the cold air.

A second woman emerged from the doors that suddenly swung open in the rear of a maroon van. They lifted Cheryl into the rear and dropped her facedown inside, on a plush red carpet floor. Her arms were tied behind her back with a silk scarf as she lay there, whimpering. The van drove off, but screeched to a sudden hard stop on the roadway... Cheryl heard a door open and close. Looking up, she caught a glimpse of a delicious brunette in jogging clothes, holding a tiny pair of binoculars and a cell phone. This backup was reassuring; she didn't want someone witnessing this mock abduction any more than her abductors. There was a thick mist rendering the visibility very poor, and conveniently, no one else was out here this morning. Cheryl didn't know it, but a few days earlier they had called it off because another jogger was in the area, as well as an old fisherman.

The three women in the van looked like porn stars- large breasted, thick-lipped, oversexed and overdressed. The driver appeared to be a frumpy housewife out for a ride in her 80's style van. When the driver spoke, Cheryl recognized her voice from the memorable telephone conversation a few weeks earlier. One of the women passed a knife to another... Cheryl felt the urine rush to her crotch again, but this time she was able to stop the flow before she pissed herself some more. The woman with the knife instructed her, "If we get stopped I'll cut the scarf off your wrists and you are to play it casual. Understand?" A whimpering "Ummm huummm" was her response. "We're just some friends out for some exercise. I'm Pamela, this is Jenny and that's Sophia. The driver's name is Angela. Got it?" Another whimpering "Ummm huummm." Pamela lifted Cheryl's leg. "Oh... as for the hot piss stain in your pants, if anyone asks, you have a weak bladder and drank too much coffee."

They were soon on the Interstate and Cheryl heard the sound of semi-trailers along with the monotonous noises of the highway. She knew she wouldn't be missed: her husband was away on business in Japan and the different time zones restricted their telephone calls. Her car was parked in her garage. This was carefully planned. One of her tasks was to e-mail certain pieces of information concerning a pre-arranged series of questions, such as "Appointments today:__," Or "I am expected at__from__AM/PM to__AM/PM." The best question was "I will not be missed today or tomorrow." This particular question she preferred to answer "Yes," knowing it would increase the possibility her fantasy would be carried out at those times. They knew she could be gone for days without being noticed, as long as she placed a couple of telephone calls to her husband in Japan... but other such periods came and went with no action. These were the times she feared it was all a con. The e-mails were not supposed to elicit a response... were they even being read?

After a half hour or more, she was allowed to sit up and was provided with a bottle of water- she had to suck from a straw because her hands were tied behind her back. "Where are you taking me?" she asked. "Shut up bitch! I'll stuff a gag in your mouth if I have to!" Pamela's snarling teeth and harsh tones were very real and scared Cheryl... she bit her lower lip and whimpered. They began talking among themselves. Cheryl was sitting on the floor with her arms tied behind her back and her legs folded underneath her. "Pammy, do you think she's tight?" Jenny answered for her, "She hasn't had any babies, but she looks like a slut. I bet that pussy's stretched out good." Pamela cut in, "That's not what she meant. You know how Angela loves to dildo a hot ass..." Jenny grabbed Cheryl roughly by the hair and pulled her legs out from under her. "RRrrrgghhh, what are you do....GLOOP!" Pamela shoved a ball-gag in her mouth and slapped her hard on the face, "You bit me! You bit my finger you bitch!... We told you to shut up or get gagged!" They shoved her to the floor with a meaty clunk..

Pamela lifted her ass up by the waistband and pulled her pants and wet panties down. "Oh you nasty bitch, pissing yourself!" She grabbed a handful of rump in each hand and spread the cheeks, "Look! She's tight as a virgin! Who's going to pop that anal cherry?" Jenny thrust her middle finger in Cheryl's rear hole and pulled it out... "Filthy whore! Don't you clean yourself?" She wiped her finger on Cheryl's face, "No matter. I love to rape a dirty hole. My strap-on cock doesn't mind, cunt." Pamela pushed her hard on the ass, her belly plopping on the floor. Cheryl's ass was bobbing and squirming as she moaned on the floor. "Jenny, hand me your lipstick... the tube of bright red slut color... That ass is begging to be raped."

Cheryl let out a long, plaintive whine as she heard this, and started squirming. Her rump was bobbing and twitching, making the women's pussies gush cream at the sight. "Stay still cunt or I'll hurt you!" Pamela said as she grabbed her ass and started writing in lipstick, "Fill my ass with cum, Cheryl is a Cheap Slut" and "Pop my ass cherry, I'm an anal fuck doll." They were giggling as they discussed what they wanted to do to her... "I'll stretch her mouth with my fat black greasy strap-on!... I'll impale her ass like a stuck pig!... "While you're in her ass, I'll test her cunt for elasticity and grip using my Black Mamba!" They sized her up like a side of beef, poking, prodding and stroking her body, feeling her thighs, the smoothness of her belly, softness of her tits and the size of her clitoris. "What enormous nipples! They're like two udders! Are you sure you're not knocked up, slut?... Answer me!" Cheryl nodded her head, turned on its side against the floor. "HHHmmm..." A shiny trail of saliva streamed out of her gagged mouth. She was nervously sucking on the ball. Pamela took the trail of slime on the tip of her finger and lopped it up across Cheryl's face. "I hope you're a 'slimer' when my strap-on is pumping your face! I like it hot, wet and sticky."

Cheryl couldn't see outside the van, but they had left the Interstate and were winding around on some steep roads. The van slowed down, turned, and she heard the crunching of the wheels on a dirt road. Being alone with these women titillated her, but there was also a fear about where she was and what they might do to her. Her thoughts wandered from imagining herself subjected to a night of sado-masochistic Lesbian rape to being left in the woods tied to a tree as they robbed her house and cleaned out her bank accounts: They knew she was wealthy. Game or not, maybe they were opportunistic thieves. She calmed herself by remembering what she had been told: many of these women were bankers, executives, professors or sexually bored wives of high-powered CEO's. The money she had paid was used to cover the expenses... they didn't need it. They were doing this for the sex, just as she was. Cheryl had requested they be rough with her, and her survey indicated she loved being called nasty names during sex. The scenario was meticulously choreographed to suit her sexual profile and fantasy- with enough surprises to keep her wondering.

During the winding drive, Cheryl had time to consider her place under the sharp-heeled feet of these women. She was drooling over a ball-gag stuffed in her mouth, lying on her belly and tits beneath these vicious bitches, her asshole puckering and her cunt drooling in anticipation of their strap-on cocks. Trussed up like a pig, she thought about her favorite position for masturbation: lying on her belly with her ass in the air, her arms reaching underneath her either to play with her pussy or to grasp a thrusting dildo. She wondered if women who masturbate on their belly are more submissive than those who lie on their backs. Yet, she often humped her pillows like a man humps a woman's ass in doggy-style position. Either way, having her face buried in the sheets, her ass raised high, her arms beneath her, gave her more potent orgasms.

There was a masochistic aspect also... she often went directly to bed fully clothed, as she had the night Karen spent the conference next to her. Clothes were the expression of wealth, and depending on the severity of her ensemble, it was a symbol of her wealth and authority... sometimes she wore a hip-hugging skirt that brought out her muscular ass and thighs, with a snug satin or silk blouse, its deep-V neckline revealing a gold pendant (usually a heart) in a tasteless display of cleavage; other times she wore a severely-cut suit, with the blouse buttoned to her throat and her hair pulled back tight against her scalp... her thick, pouting lips, high, slanting cheekbones and large doe-eyes gave her the appearance of a fashion model tempered by the air of a stern schoolmistress. Whatever the style, they ended up a ruined mass of gabardine, satin, buttons, silk lingerie, often hundreds of dollars in designer labels scattered among her jewelry, ointments, butt plugs and dildos. The cool satin sheets were the least of her losses.

With her increasing libidinous urges and frustrations, Cheryl had a powerful desire to be sexually dominated, humiliated... by other women. Perhaps, she thought, it was more humiliating to be dominated by women, who are, after all, the "second sex," weaker and delicate... but more feral. She sought a role reversal; she was the dominant, predatory female in her outside life, the office barracuda, always ready to pounce on her prey like a sharp-fanged cat with razor-sharp claws... but sexually, she had a masochistic urge to be the prey itself, to vicariously assume the place of a mauled victim with her high-heeled legs sticking up high and stiff, her long-nailed fingers clawing the air, her frightened, bovine eyes staring into oblivion... all the while, her voracious lover devours her with its mouth, gnaws her neck, ears, lips and tongue, sinks its nails into her soft breasts, and pounds into her with an impaling strap-on cock. To make her a totally submissive, thoroughly conquered slut, she is turned on her belly and rammed in the ass, chewing and clawing the sheets with the pain and pleasure of her impalement. Lying here on the floor, the sharp heels pressing into her back and ass seemed like the claws of such feral predators, as did the sharp, exquisitely-manicured fingernails that had trussed her up and left her vulnerable to their every sadistic whim.

4.

The van pulled up alongside a large antique building. It had an odd combination of Victorian and Gothic architecture and was surrounded by a park. Cheryl guessed she was somewhere in the Watchung range, maybe Basking Ridge. She had taken riding lessons there years ago and was familiar with the area. Cheryl glimpsed a long stone driveway leading to the front. In one direction were horse stables, in another a beautiful fish pond with a decorative neo-classical sculpture in the center. They had evidently used an unpaved back entrance. They escorted her through the side door into a kitchen that was as large and well-equipped as a restaurant's.

Cheryl was lifted and dropped on her belly with a bony, meaty thump, feeling the cold stainless steel of a kitchen counter underneath her. They were still prodding her like a side of beef. The pastel blue track pants with its white stripes down the legs, along with her pink panties, were wrapped around her knees. She was turned on her side. They unzipped her matching jacket and pushed her polo shirt and bra up. Cheryl's globular tits were bobbing on her chest with their hard, aching nipples jutting obscenely high. Her hair was wet with perspiration and was plastered to her head and face in dark strands. Her lips were swollen and glossy with the drool from her gagged mouth. Lying on the cold steel counter intensified the sensation that she was just a piece of ass-meat to these women.

Jenny, Angela and Sophia carried her over to the dumbwaiter and stuffed her moaning, trussed-up body in the tray. She was lowered by means of an electric winch that whirred into action with the flip of a switch. "Meet you downstairs, slut!" Cheryl's eyes were wide and she whined through the gag. Clearly, she did not like being inside this contraption. As the door closed, the moaning grew faint. They took their time going downstairs to retrieve her from this claustrophobic box. Cheryl was only slightly cramped, lying on her side, but in the confined space she was forced to smell herself for the first time since her ordeal began. Stewing in her own body heat, the musky smell of arousal mingled with pee, sweat, lavender, and the cloying remnants of her perfume and deodorant. The dumbwaiter had led to a room that was, many years ago, the original kitchen. Now it was used only for storage.

As Cheryl waited impatiently, preparations were being made for her reception. When the dumbwaiter reached the bottom of the lift, Cheryl had waited in the darkness for what seemed like an hour. Finally, the door opened. At eye-level, she saw two bobbing strap-on cocks pointing at her. Then she saw the faces of Jenny and Sophia as they bent down to pull her out. Cheryl's eyes were wide and her pupils were dilated. Jenny grabbed her roughly by the collars of her jacket and shirt, while Sophia and Angela grabbed her legs. She was again plopped down on a stainless steel serving tray and wheeled away. They were groping her breasts, pussy and ass as she was pushed through a low corridor to another subterranean room.

This room was once some kind of vault, since the huge steel door was set with bolts like a bank vault. The clanging door was followed by silence. Cheryl was now trapped in some kind of sex dungeon. In the corner was a large round bed, covered in bright red satin sheets and heart shaped pillows. An antiquated cherry bar ran along the opposite wall. There was a well-stocked liquor cabinet and a large mirror against the wall itself. The room appeared to be a prohibition-era subterranean bar converted to a Honeymoon suite. There were even mirrors on the ceiling above the bed, and another mirror on the wall alongside it. A very modern plasma television stood in another corner. A few pornographic DVD's lay on the shelf.

What caught Cheryl's eye was Angela opening a door to reveal an adjacent room filled with frightening sado-masochistic implements. The wall that fell in her line of sight resembled a tack room; indeed, there were several riding crops and bridles hanging on pegs or in racks... but there were among these items many whips, gags, nefarious-looking ropes and cords, and, obviously for effect rather than use, two medieval maces. What Cheryl did not see further in this room were colonial stocks, irons, a medieval iron hanging cage, two padded saw horses, and an actual stretch rack! They had a thoroughly well-equipped S & M facility tucked away as secretively as a prohibition-era whiskey bar- which this very room once obviously served as. There was an extensive fetish wardrobe, a supply of candles, pins, needles, lubricants, saran-wrap, dildos, butt-plugs, clamps, tattoo guns, and for that matter, darts and other implements for every imaginable ritual, torment, or scenario. For Cheryl, this was a bit too much... she enjoyed fantasizing about BDSM, but she was more turned on by being trussed up with a pair of musky pantyhose and gagged with a ball and silk scarf. It was one concession they allowed her- the spiked collars, latex corsets, silly leather gear and other tired clichés of the game were left alone, but Cheryl was still going to be served up for adequate punishment.

Cheryl was tossed facedown on the bed as the three women poked and prodded her like a piece of meat. Her hands were still tied behind her. She felt fingers squeezing her breasts and reaching under her blouse to pinch her throbbing nipples. The room resounded with hard meaty smacks on her upraised ass. Each time her ass was smacked, Cheryl's eyes widened with shock, her whole body jumped and a high-pitched squeal came from her gagged mouth. Angela's pussy spurted into her panties watching and hearing this. A shiny trail of saliva ran over Cheryl's chin and stained the red satin sheets. Jenny and Angela rolled her to the side of the bed and stood her up. She was dropped into a plush chair and forced to watch a dance that was intended to get her pussy burning hot.Jenny had pulled the zipper up on Cheryl's jacket and she was sweating profusely. Her piss-wet crotch was burning hot and the silk panties felt heavy over her throbbing clit. She twisted in her bonds with a frantic urge to rub herself but she couldn't. If she had been wearing tight jeans, she could have rubbed her clit against the seam, but she had on soft athletic pants that were still wet.

Angela had temporarily removed her strap-on dildo and changed into an outfit that a stripper would wear: tight black shorts that ran up the split in her buttocks. A tight black mesh bodysuit was all that covered her breasts. She was dancing on bright red high heeled shoes that matched the color of her pouting lips, which were a bright coral red glistening with thick gloss. Angela's skin was covered with shiny oil. Her buttocks bounced with each step. Her thighs were thick and very feminine, though muscular. They were heavy but with a certain elastic tightness. Her curvaceous torso glistened with oil, emphasizing every delicious crease and pout. Her belly was a rounded rectangular shape, slightly protuberant but firm, with a pout just above the crease separating it from her Mons. A few tattoos adorned her body. Angela's purple-red nipples were fully erect and enormous. She must have put lip gloss on them, because they were so dark and shiny. Even the sheen of oil alone couldn't have caused that effect.