A milf is abducted and brutally raped, but her rapist has the cops in his pocket ....
Pre Covid story, when movement restrictions didn't apply ........
…..
Part one of the story of a middle-aged, respectable married woman, who’s world is tipped upside-down when her suburban vanilla cocoon is sliced wide open by the heartless barbs of cruel fate, casting her into an inescapable morass of blackmail, humiliation and depravity.
The catalyst was one warm Summer Wednesday morning not long after her 44th birthday.
It was then, for the first time ever, her whole being was wracked by what seemed like an endless string of multiple orgasms, during the most thrilling and intense sex session of her life ……..
It was like a demonic possession, and for three straight hours she endured a marathon of mind-blowing, eye-rolling, toe-curling, almost continuous orgasmic delirium …. a succulent slice of seventh heaven right here on Earth ..... and she loved it.
The trouble was, it was while she was being raped….
But this hadn’t been an opportunistic, dark alley, wham-bam quickie at the hands of a knife wielding scumbag …… Oh no …….. She’d been singled out to be the latest victim in a string of orchestrated and well-planned abductions which had been plaguing the town for weeks. The gang’s modus-operandi was well established and widely publicised, with all of the several abductions of lone women having been from the quiet corners of various supermarket carparks in the broad daylight of late-morning.
But still, that’s how and where she’d chosen to park that fateful day…… far away from the store’s entrance in an isolated area of parking-lot not covered by CCTV surveillance.
She was visibly shaking and could barely walk straight as she made her way back to her car, having purchased just a mere loaf of bread. The large white van hadn’t been behind her lonely Ford Focus when she’d entered the store, but it was there now, seemingly unoccupied and still. Her unsteady gait baulked as she got near, nervous now, her heart thumping hard in her chest and her breathing becoming laboured and shallow. She surveyed the deserted scene before taking the final twenty strides to her driver’s door.
But no-one appeared….. It was just her and the two vehicles in a sector of eerily silent seclusion.
As she took her final few strides, a finger press of her remote caused a beep and a click, and she hurriedly settled herself into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her before jabbing down on the locking button with her closed fist, then throwing the plastic-wrapped loaf onto the passenger seat. She was safely in, and any danger had been resolutely and securely locked on the outside.
After she’d fumbled the key into the ignition, she automatically glanced in the rear-view mirror as she twisted the key, before fixing her gaze forwards to drive away…..
That’s when she saw it ….. Just as she was about to release and lower the hand-brake lever ……. A small, oblong, white piece of paper, no larger than the front of a cigarette packet, pasted onto her windscreen in her direct line of sight. The two lines of neat wording had been written in bold black letters ……
reer tire dead flat
The miss-spell compelled her to read it three times before the implications sank in …. She couldn’t drive away with a dead flat tyre, if indeed it was devoid of air. She took several deep breaths before killing the engine, as an overwhelming compulsion to check the tyre for herself gnawed at her conscience …. driving away after been alerted to a flat tyre was unconscionable on too many levels ……. She was going to have to get out and check it for herself….
……………
Once back outside in the unprotected open, and with her back to the big white van as she walked around to check her rear tyres, the inevitable happened …..
Being jumped from behind and having a swatting hand clamp down onto her mouth didn’t engender the feeling of terror she’d imagined it might. After all, the other women who’d been taken had all resurfaced a few hours later, alive and fully in one piece. Sure, some had wealds on their wrists and ankles, and one had had her head shaved completely bald, but all were returned without any broken bones. It was the second masked man who’d suddenly appeared from nowhere and was brandishing a switch-blade a mere inch from her face who was the terror.
“You gonna behave?” he growled from inside his mask, which she answered with a frantic nodding head of compliance.
With her car now in their possession, she found herself in the back of a van as part of a one hour, two vehicle convoy to an isolated and abandoned warehouse on the desolate outskirts of town.
They’d insisted she strip herself naked on the journey ….. “If you don’t want to drive your car home naked,” they’d said, “Then you’d best put you kit in here for safe keeping,” as she was handed a large paper bag. At least she’d be getting her car and clothes back …..
A deliberate psychological ploy.
…….
Inside the dim and grubby voluminous cavern of the desolate warehouse into where she’d been frogmarched, and from the briefest of glimpses as her eye-mask had been reset, there appeared to be about a dozen guys present, she told the police afterwards ….. angry young men who’d had her surrounded, and seemed eager to have a piece of the action.
And plenty of action there was ….
For three long hours, she was brutally and mercilessly gang-raped.
….
Several weeks later, and after the abduction and gang-rape of five more women, the police had identified and apprehended most of the gang. The ones they’d caught received a three year sentence, but with good behaviour, everyone knew they’d be back on the streets in 18 months ….
But they hadn’t caught them all, and the reputed ring-leader, a cunning and vicious thug called Lars, was still at large ….. somewhere…. and had the personal details of all of the gang’s victims ….
Yet worse ….. he had intimate knowledge of how all their victims had reacted whilst they’d been held captive and in the throes of being thoroughly ‘processed’.
………….
She’d kept silent about her horrendous ordeal.
Of course, her husband knew, as did the team of law enforcement who’d been involved in the case. Also, at the robust persuasion of a female police sergeant, she’d attended a couple of one-on-one sessions with a mental-trauma therapist. In hindsight she wished she hadn’t, because the woman had been creepy and weird and had unnerved her with all manner of very intimate questions. She’d felt abject shame when she was obliged to acknowledge and openly admit several times during her couple of sessions that her ordeal had given rise to multiple and mind-blowing orgasms, the likes of which she’d never experienced before.….. and more provocatively, as the therapist had took pains to point out, the likes of which she was unlikely to ever experience again …. unless ……….
Everyone else knew nothing of the horror she’d been through. She’d accounted for her few months of absence with the excuse of a vague but non-contagious medical requirement.
But after many weeks of self-imposed isolation, she was ready to re-engage with the world.
@@@@@@@@@@@
One Wednesday evening, several months after her fateful abduction ……
Husband to wife, “You sure you’ll be OK? You haven’t been out on one of your girly nights since, you know …..”
Wife to husband, “I’ve been quite looking forwards to it, if you really must know …. And you don’t have to worry, ‘cos I’ll be with my friends.”
Husband to wife, “Yeah, I know …. But I wish you wouldn’t go dressed like that…”
Wife to husband, “It’s because I want to feel ‘normal’ again. None of the girls know about the …. you know …. and they always like to dress up nice for their nights out.”
Husband to wife, “Yeah, but that outfit makes you look a bit cheap and slutty if you ask me….. you’ll be a magnet for unhealthy attention.”
Wife to husband, “Well then, you’d best not wait up …… I might be late ….”
…….
She wasn’t unduly late that first night … in fact it was just after 11pm.
But two nights later, come Friday, when she went out again, she’d announced to her husband she’d almost certainly be much later this time.
“Another girly night out so soon?” the husband had asked.
“Not really, not tonight.”
“What you got planned, then?”
“To be honest, tonight’s outing is none of your god-damn business…”
‘’’’’’’’’’
You see, something had happened on that Wednesday girly night out, and it was all because of their sensible plan. The small group of women had decided in advance to buy their own drinks, thereby eliminating any implied pressure for anyone to “keep up” with the more enthusiastic drinkers in their ranks ….
And it was on a solo trip to the bar to buy her third wine when the big guy had eased along-side her and spoke …..
“Girls night out on the town, is it?” he’d asked.
“Yep,” she replied, civil but curt. She’d no intention of starting a conversation with this hulking and slightly intimidating oaf.
“So ….. is it a special treat for you, or a treat for one of the others?”
“Just a night out,” was the shortest excuse she could think of to say as she picked up her full glass and turned towards her comrades. This guy was big and arrogant and quite a bit scary and she was anxious to get out of his face.
“Well, I know exactly how I’d treat someone like you, and I bet you’d hate it and love it.”
His choice of words caused her to glance up at his contemptuous smirk, giving her a shiver of queasy revulsion. But there was no denying his overbearing and brazen aura had caused a flush of goose-bumps to ripple and ruffle the fine, short hairs on the back of her neck.
She scurried back to her friends without responding.
“What was that all about?” one of them asked, having noted their brief exchange of words.
“Worst pick-up spiel ever,” she replied, having sat down and taken a large gulp of her wine.
“You know who that is, though, don’t you?”
“I haven’t a clue, other than he’s an over-sized, smart-ass fuckwit.”
“That’s Lars. They recon he was the leader of that there gang who were abducting women a while back, but the cops weren’t able to pin anything on him.”
She couldn’t stop herself from glancing over at the bar to where he’d been standing, but he was gone.
“They recon the cops couldn’t get him ‘cos he’s got some kind of dirt on a magistrate,” one of the other girls chipped in.
“Yeah, they say he’d raped the beaks wife. He didn’t know who she was at first, but he’s got film of her having the time of her life on the end of his cock, and it’s his ace card which keeps the law off his back.” said another.
“And there’s rumours going around she willingly went back a few more times for second helpings,” another eagerly added.
“Sounds like bullshit to me,” she said.
“No, it’s true, honest. Someone said that two or three others went out to get themselves a couple o’ more rounds with him, too, even after he’d formed his little gang.”
“How could any woman do that to themselves? It’s just too perverse for words,” she said.
“He wasn’t here long and I just saw him leave …. I’m surprised he even called in ….. He normally only comes in on Fridays.”
“And just exactly how do you know that?” one of the older women asked.
“Never mind how I know …. It’s a fact ….. he’s in here every Friday night looking for a lone woman to pick up ….. and we all know what’ll happen if they’re stupid enough to go with him.”
“Who’d be stupid enough to go off with that asshole?” she asked.
“You’d be surprised ….. hung like a donkey, see? And he’s got mates too. She’ll get handed around like pass-the-parcel. It’d be a long, hard night for anyone who went with him.”
“What an absolute load of old bollocks,” she said.
“No, it’s true. He comes in here with a couple o’ mates every Friday, and they always end up with taking some poor sap woman away with ‘em. Even if she says ‘no’, if she’s been ***********ed, she’s frogmarched out to their van, even if she’s kicking and screaming.”
“Now that really is bullshit. Someone here would step in and stop them.” she decrees.
For some reason, this caused a chorus of laughter from the others.
“Haven’t you been listening? He’s got a judge in his pocket, so the cops don’t want anything to do with the prick. Certainly no-one in here would dare lift a finger against him …. In fact, if push came to shove, they’d probably all take his side.”
“Oh, come on ….. you’re all talking a load of crap just to wind me up,” she says.
“Ok, smarty pants …. If you don’t believe us, why don’t you come back here Friday night and see for yourself? He’s already shown an interest, and if he starts chatting you up, you’ll end up in the back of his van and on your way to get acquainted with his mates, and you know what’ll happen then.”
“You’re all sick,” she berated.
“Maybe we are, but bet you daren’t come back on Friday to see for yourself. We all saw the way he was checking you out, so be warned, if you do come, you’ll definitely be on the short-list for the back of his van, and that’s a solid gold fact.”
“I call it bullshit,” she squawked, as her face flushed red.
“Come on Friday, then,” taunted one.
“Oh, she’ll be here all right, you just watch,” taunted another.
“Just look at her flushed face,” taunted yet another, “Of course she’ll be here ……. guaranteed….”
…….
A couple of hours later, as she made her way outside to her awaiting taxi, she glanced back over her shoulder at the brightly lit archway entrance to the pub …… Did ‘he’ really go there every Friday, looking to pick up some poor, unsuspecting bitch for him and his rapist mates to do over?
And was his command so completely embracing it would be foolhardy and futile to even try challenge him as he frogmarched his chosen victim out through the door, even if she was kicking and screaming?
The prospect of observing such a show certainly oozed with perverse intrigue, but was it tempting enough to go see for herself?
And could she calmly sit and watch him single-out and pick up a lone woman, knowing her fate would be gang-rape?
Maybe ……. Maybe not ….. But she’d never dare challenge this fearsome thug, especially if the cops didn’t want to know. She’d have to stay sober and clear headed, so as not to let protective instincts spur her into a reckless, probably dangerous, attempt at intervention.
But what if she unintentionally ‘did’ have more drinks than she’d planned?
What if one led to three, then six, then more, until she ended up being woozy and drunk …….
So drunk, she’d end up making herself easy pickings for ‘him’ and his raping scumbag mates?
No, she wouldn’t want to bring that on herself, no way ….… but surely there’d be no harm in calling in on Friday, just for a couple of drinks. Sure, she’d be on her own with no back-up, but if she only had a couple of small wines ……. Well, it’d still be OK if she made them large wines …..
She wouldn’t count the first two or three, because they’d just be for warm up. But after that, it would positively, strictly be only another two …… Well, maybe she could go for three, but that’d be the absolute limit……
OK, possibly four, but that would definitely be it …… She’d certainly be drunk enough by then, she mused ….., far enough gone to let that sick bastard go for four ……
In her dark muse, the drinks tally had morphed into fingers …… arrogant, perverse, probing fingers …. gyrating and thrusting to make her sex wet……… and opened up, ready for gang-rape …
The sudden twinge in her loins made her flinch ………