M
montycrusto
Guest
fwoarrr! hot stuff all right!2.The afternoon passes into evening. My two captors while away the time by smoking, walking about, playing cards or napping. The short one finishes my half-eaten sandwich. The radio plays Vanilla Fudge's "You keep me hanging on".
I shift around. My muscles are cramping and I want to find a more comfortable position. The light is failing, sun setting. Low clouds have gathered out over the sea and are painted in pastel hues of red orange and purple.
There's a slight chill in the air. I wrap my bound hands tighter around my knees, look longingly at my discarded cut offs and tie-dye tee, and shiver in my near nakedness.
I rethink my situation for what seems like the thousandth time. I've been abducted, stripped down to my black string bikini bottoms, and apparently am about to be "sold", but to whom and for what? Nothing good will come of it, to be sure!
I'd like to ask some questions ... learn more about my fate ... but my mouth is duct taped and neither of my abductors seem very interested in talking anyway. Like the tall one said, "we wait."
Now the short one comes over and sits alongside me. He brushes a few loose strands of hair from my face, strokes my brow, and slowly traces a line with his finger from my neck to my shoulder, down my side to my hip. Then he continues on, halfway across my belly, his finger tip just under the edge of my bikini bottoms.
I don't like the hungry look on his ruddy, strikingly unintelligent-looking face, and react to his probing finger as it slides under a bit more by twisting my hips away. He flashes me a crooked grin, withdraws his finger and says conversationally to the tall one, "She's not bad you know. What do you say we have a little go at her? They won’t be here for a while, will they now? I"ll take her first, then you, ok?"
I pull away from him desperately, suddenly alarmed, fall over on my side and attempt to crab-walk my body out of his reach. I don't like the sounds of this and I try to yell for help, but all that comes out is a muffled croak.
"You know the drill," retorts the tall one. "We deliver the merchandise in its original package. Like new. Not used. We don't want any trouble from the likes of them now, do we?"
"Yeah, but who's to know?" replies the short one, moving close to me again, placing his hand over my ribs below my left breast, then sliding his hand up over its soft underside and squeezing roughly. He rolls my tumescent nipples, each in turn, between forefinger and thumb. "Will you look at these? So hard and erect! See, what’d I tell you, she wants it. Come on while there's still time!"
I wince and protest, but again only muffled sounds get past the duct tape. I dig my heels into the sand and try to propel myself away from him, but he is not letting go. Arm across my shoulders, he holds me down and continues to fondle my breasts.
The tall one relents, getting up with a grunt he comes over muttering, "Against my better judgement, but ok let's do it. How ‘bout we drag her over there by those large pieces of driftwood ... We can use them to tie her down ‘cause I can tell she's not gonna cooperate."
I squirm and struggle as they drag me over the sand to some heavy driftwood logs. They force me to lie on my back. The loose end of the rope binding my wrists is tied securely to a stout branch so that my arms are extended well beyond my head. My ankles are untied and then re-tied, each to a nearby log, so that my legs are spread.
Helpless, I wait for the inevitable, sobbing, wide-eyed, turning my head from side to side as if to say “no, please don't!”
In the gathering gloom I hear the short one unzipping his pants and positioning himself between my legs. The tall one sits down beside me, the glow of his cigarette lighting his face as he leans forward to untie the bikini strings at my hips, first one and then the other. I buck and twist, struggle for all I am worth, but to no avail. The short one pulls the loosened fabric down over my mound, slides it out from under my butt with a firm little tug, and then rips it away entirely.
"Nice trim job," he snickers as he begins to vigorously rub my mound and labia with his palm. “What do they call that … a landing strip? Very cute!” I gasp as he rudely probes my lips with his finger. Then I feel his weight pinning my ass to the sand as he settles himself down on top of me.
My nostrils flare as I suck in my breath. I close my eyes. Resistance is futile, but I continue to buck wildly anyway … hoping a moving target might stave off the inevitable. He attempts to thrust the tip of his hardened member against my labia but misses, sliding harmlessly up and over my mound. His second thrust also ends clumsily, buried in the crack between my flattened ass cheeks.
The tall one laughs at his ineptitude and then intervenes, offering to help hold me down. The game is up. It's going to happen. I brace for the worst, but then there is the sound of voices and the rattle of stones kicked loose underfoot on the path down to the beach. The beam of a torch arcs jerkily back and forth across the beach.
"Shit! They're here already" hisses the tall one. "I knew this was a bad idea."
The short one is off of me in a flash, cursing and dancing about as he pulls up his pants.
A moment later my naked spread-eagled body is illuminated in the harsh glare of the torch carried by the newcomers.
TO BE CONTINUED
