Jane wasn’t sure how a person should dress to be kidnapped. She thought it over while lying in her bed, still halfway between sleep and waking.
She thought about her previous encounter with ‘Mr. Bad Man’...and found herself curled up under the sheets and hugging herself in a mixture of anticipation and fear. Not a real, serious kind of fear, but the pleasurable kind, like the anxiety she’d experienced before getting on a roller coaster, knowing there was no actual danger, but still...
She figured that there was a good chance that Peter would make her do some nasty things—it was something that excited them both, it had been a while since he had done so, and it was certainly right down ‘Mr. Bad Man’s’ alley—so it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to wear anything she didn’t want messed up.
She rolled over and looked out her window. It was going to be hot today--she could feel it already.
In the end she decided to keep it simple: plain white underwear and t-shirt, old red gym shorts, beat-up canvas shoes. She had a quick breakfast with her parents—the tension in her stomach not allowing her to eat much—telling them that she was spending the day with Peter, then making her way down the driveway.
She was a little bit early but saw that Peter’s car was already parked near the entrance, close to the trees on one side. Strangely, it appeared to be empty and there was no sign of Peter nearby.
When she reached the car she peered in the windshield to be sure he wasn’t there, then started to walk around the side, turning her head back and forth and squinting near-sightedly to see if perhaps he was in the woods.
He’s hiding behind a tree, she thought. He’s going to jump out and...
She felt something hard prod her in the small of her back. She gasped and whirled around.
He was all in black: boots, jeans, t-shirt. And a ski mask.
And he was pointing a gun at her.
Jane found that disturbing until she looked more closely and saw that it was made of plastic.
She started to raise her hands in the traditional hold-up manner, then settled them behind her head, trying not to smile. It was definitely ‘Mr. Bad Man’ and he really did look intimidating, especially with his face covered like that. She thought he must have been getting pretty hot in that ski mask. She looked down at his gun...just in time to see a drop of water fall from the end of its barrel.
“Your gun is leaking,” she said, starting to grin in spite of herself.
“Shut up,” he replied, jabbing the gun into her stomach and leaving a small wet spot there. “Take off your shirt.”
Already? Even though she’d been looking forward to this, she wasn’t really feeling very sexy yet. It was too early in the morning for one thing. Besides, they were too close to the road; anyone driving or, God forbid, walking past would be able to see them.
She folded her arms across her chest and said “No!” Not knowing whether she really meant it or not.
Which turned out to be beside the point as ‘Mr. Bad Man’ immediately grabbed her head in both hands and pulled it down, forcing her to bend at the waist until almost doubled up. Then, holding her head tightly between his knees he pulled her shirt up and over her shoulders, releasing her head just in time to yank her shirt all the way off. He tossed it onto the roof of the car behind her as she straightened, angry and gasping.
Without even thinking about it she aimed a slap at his masked face. He caught her by the wrist, then quickly seized the other one and held them tightly in one hand while he fished in the pocket of his jeans with the other, coming up with a pair of handcuffs.
Jane, even as she struggled to free herself, was amused to see that he had apparently gotten the handcuffs at the same toy store as the pistol, as they were obviously made of tin or aluminum. And when he suddenly spun her around, pulled her hands behind her back and snapped the handcuffs on her wrists she could tell just from the flimsy feel of them that they would break without much effort on her part.
But now she found that the struggle and her burst of anger had left her feeling more aroused than she had been before. So she allowed her resistance to become mostly verbal, slumping against the car and saying things like “No!” and “Let me go!” and “Don’t!” but not really trying to stop him. Even when he suddenly jerked her shorts down and let them fall around her ankles.
Oh god, if somebody should walk past right now and see her, stripped to her underwear, hands cuffed behind her while a masked man in black...wait, what was he doing now? He’d reached around her and grabbed her t-shirt from the roof of the car and now he was… She turned her head to see…
Just as the lights went out.
He was blindfolding her! In spite of everything she knew about Peter she felt herself stiffen with fear. She had never felt so helpless and exposed. But even though she knew she could end it in an instant by saying the word they’d agreed on or even by simply snapping the silly toy handcuffs apart and removing the blindfold, she didn’t. However panicky she felt at the moment, she trusted Peter and knew he was doing this for her pleasure as well as his.
And with that thought she allowed herself to relax slightly and surrender once again to the game. She stood silently as she heard him walk away and open the trunk of the car with a loud thunk. And when he returned, spun her around again, held her by the shoulders and whispered “I told you I had plans for you, my dear,” in his throaty ‘Mr. Bad Man’ voice, his breath hot in her ear, she felt almost faint with desire and would have let him make love to her right there in broad daylight if that’s what he’d wanted.
But it wasn’t, as she found out when he picked her up in his arms, her red shorts and one of her shoes falling from her ankles and landing in the gravel as he did so. She had no idea where he was going or what he had in mind...
Until she felt herself being deposited onto something soft that smelled slightly of gasoline; she supposed it was the blanket he’d wrapped her in the other night. Suddenly she heard a loud clunk as the trunk lid slammed down above her, cutting off the sounds outside and making the darkness behind her blindfold completely black. And a moment later heard the car door open and shut and the engine being started.
Oh god, she really was being kidnapped.
It wasn’t so bad, she concluded after the car had been in motion for a while. At least the air in the trunk was breathable, if not particularly fresh.
It had been strange and a little frightening at first, having her senses reduced to not much more than whatever she could hear and feel in the way the car sped up, slowed down, stopped or turned, but she had to admit that it was exciting. She loved the feeling of helplessness, or at least the pretense of it: of having been stripped, handcuffed and thrown in the trunk of a car to be taken God knows where to be used for someone’s pleasure. Well, not just anyone’s...
Peter’s. She couldn’t imagine doing something like this with anyone else. Who else could make her feel so deliciously powerless and so safe at the same time?
On the other hand, it was scary fun to imagine that he was someone else: the horrible Mr. Bad Man. She remembered how angry she’d been when he’d torn her shirt off, and how struggling with him had somehow aroused her. So she decided that instead of being meek and obedient she would be angry this time. She would resist. If he wanted her to submit, he was going to have to make her.
Oooo.... She hoped they got to wherever he was taking her soon.
After a while she felt the car turn and the sound of the road beneath her seemed to change. Gravel, she thought. He’s taking me out in the country. A short time later the sound changed again and the car began to jostle as if the road had become rough. She wondered if they were on the same dirt road where she’d had her driving lesson.
Another turn, and suddenly the tires became almost silent except for a whisking sound as if the underside of the car was being vigorously brushed, and Jane realized that they had left the road and were driving through tall grass.
Where in the world was he taking her?
Then the car stopped, and the engine was turned off.
Jane found herself shivering again, just as she had while lying in bed that morning. Then she remembered that she was angry. As she heard the car door open and shut, followed by the sound of his approaching footsteps she struggled onto her back with her feet drawn up and facing the lid of the trunk. And as soon as she heard the key turn and the lid being raised she lashed out blindly with her feet, yelling, “You bastard!”
She felt one foot, the one still wearing a shoe, connect and heard a loud “Oof!”. She heard him stagger back a couple of steps, gasping for breath, and realized she’d gotten him in the stomach. Sorry, Peter... she thought to herself, but not very seriously—and caught herself grinning. Peter was going to have to fight for everything he got!
After a moment she heard him approaching again, and drew her legs back to lash out again. But he had obviously anticipated her and she felt an arm snake in under her bent knees and spin her around, then felt his other arm beneath her shoulders as he lifted her out of the trunk.
She tried to struggle, but he threw her over his shoulder, saying, “Naughty, naughty,” in his Mr. Bad Man voice. Then he smacked her on the behind hard enough to make her cry out.
“Ow!” She began to struggle again. “You bastard, give me back my clothes and take me home or I’m calling the police!”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied, giving her another smack and beginning to walk, carrying her...where?” “I don’t think you’ll be doing anything...” he said with mock pleasantness as he walked. Then he smacked her behind again, even harder, and growled, “...except what I tell you to do!”
Even with a blindfold, and despite hanging head down from his shoulder, she had been able to sense the sunlight as they walked, but just then the light became dim again and the sound of his footsteps changed. They had entered a building of some sort, she was sure. She became aware of a musty, vegetative smell, and noticed the changing quality of light behind her blindfold; now lighter, now darker as they continued walking. She heard birds cooing far above her.
Peter stopped and dropped her to the ground so suddenly that she swayed dizzily on her feet for a moment. And before she could recover she felt him behind her, unfastening one of the handcuffs. Then he seized her wrists and she felt herself being pulled backward into something solid—a wooden post of some kind, dry and splintery against the skin of her back—then felt him cuffing her wrists together again, behind the post, trapping her there.
“Don’t go away,” she heard ‘Mr. Bad Man’ rasp, and then there was only the sound of his footsteps moving away from her.
Where was he going? He couldn’t be leaving her there. She heard a car door open, then shut again. Maybe he could...but why, and what would she do if he did? She could get out of the handcuffs easily enough, she was sure, but then what? Even if she could figure out where she was she couldn’t very well start walking home in her bra and panties. What could she... She heard his footsteps approaching again.
She let her breath out in a sigh, realizing as she did so how silly she’d been to let herself get so wound up, then smiled to herself: imagine being relieved to be trapped with someone who had stripped her, kidnapped her, handcuffed her to a post and was probably about to make her do any number of shameful things. But she was relieved, and more than that. As his footsteps drew near she suddenly became aware of her bra pressing against her erect nipples. Oh god, what was he going to do to her?
The sound of his footsteps continued on past her. She heard paper rattling—a bag, she guessed—then she suddenly felt something thin and soft around her stomach. Rope. He was tying her to the post, but why, when she was already handcuffed there? Then she felt him removing the handcuffs from her wrists...felt her arms being lifted and crossed tightly behind her head and quickly bound there with more rope. Now she was truly helpless instead of merely pretending to be...
Then her blindfold was torn away and she blinked as she took in her surroundings. They were in some kind of broken-down old barn. Gaping holes in the roof and walls allowed the sunlight to carve shining paths through the gloom and the whole structure was tilted crazily to one side as if it were about to fall down. There were rusting farm tools and machinery on the dirt floor among the scatterings of dead leaves and straw. Some apparently ancient hay bales were stacked in one corner. Wherever he had taken her was someplace people didn’t come to very often.
“Welcome to my hideout,” said ‘Mr. Bad Man’, stepping around from behind her. He had removed his ski mask but wrap-around sunglasses that made him look just as menacing--in a sexy kind of way, of course--now covered his eyes. “How nice of you to come and spend some time with me.”
“Listen, you creep,” she replied, with what she hoped was convincing outrage, “If you don’t untie me right now you’re gonna be in big trouble.” She aimed a kick at him, knowing full well that he was too far away to reach, and her remaining shoe flew off and nearly hit him, causing him to duck.
“Actually, I think you need more tying up, not less,” he smirked, and stepped behind her again. She heard the bag rattle then felt another piece of rope circling her right ankle. She struggled a little bit for form’s sake, kicking at his hands and yelling, “You stop that right now! Let me go!” But soon enough he had her ankles tied together, leaving about a foot of slack between them. The bag rattled again and ‘Mr. Bad Man’ came to stand in front of her. He held up a large wicked-looking hunting knife, smiled, and then knelt to cut the excess rope lying at her feet.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she said as he stood up.
“Doing?” He put his face very close to hers, so close that she could see her face reflected in his sunglasses.
She felt the front of her bra being pulled away from her chest, followed by a slight jerk. She looked down...and gasped to see the cups of her brassiere hanging loose.
‘Mr. Bad Man’ used the point of his knife to flick them aside, exposing her breasts. “Whatever I want to, my dear.” He stuck the knife in his belt and reached up to pinch her still-erect nipples, rolling them roughly between thumb and forefinger. “You don’t mind, do you?”—now covering her breasts with his hands and squeezing them. “Not that it matters...mmm.” He made a guttural sound of pleasure in the back of his throat, almost like a purr.
Jane felt a sudden spasm between her legs as a small orgasm shook her. Oh god...mustn’t let him see. She fought to keep her expression icy and disdainful. “Get your hands...off me!” She swung an elbow from behind her head and actually caught him on the side of the head—not hard enough to really hurt him, but she’d caught him by surprise, she thought smugly.
“Ow!” He staggered slightly then reached up to straighten his sunglasses, which her blow had knocked askew. “Troublemaker, huh?” he said, rubbing the side of his head where her elbow had connected. “I think maybe a little walk would help you relax.” He went behind her again, and once more she heard him reach into the bag.
A walk? What did he mean? And if he was going to untie her so she could walk, why was he getting more rope? And he had gotten more rope—she could feel him doing something behind her back...but for what? He didn’t seem to be using it on her...
Then he was in front of her again, squatting to pass a coil of rope between her knees from where it was tied behind her. It was a long rope, she saw from the size of the coil, and had knots tied in it every foot or so. There was an especially large one between her knees...
Which, as ‘Mr. Bad Man’ stood, rose with him and began to bounce and rub between her legs as he backed away, paying out the rope as he did so. He made his way across the barn and fastened the rope to another post just opposite to where Jane was standing, attaching it at chest height so that it slanted down to the knot between her legs. Jane thought he must have tied it at nearly the same height behind her as well because now the knot was pressing quite firmly against her there.
Oh god, was this what he’d meant by a walk?
It was. He returned, untied the cord holding her to the post, and from behind her said, “Get moving.”
Jane, true to her role, said, “No! You untie me right now!”
He growled, “I said, get moving!”
She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her behind that caused her to jump forward and nearly stumble because of the rope at her ankles. She looked back, furious, and saw him holding up his knife, tapping the point gently with a forefinger and grinning at her as if asking her if she needed more persuasion.
She didn’t. “You bastard!” she hissed at him—and started walking.
Her hobbled ankles inevitably made her steps very small, so her progress was slow. She looked down at the next knot as it approached. Watched it disappear beneath her. Felt it, like a smooth, hard knuckle sliding between her legs, pressing the already damp fabric of her panties against her there.
Jane shuddered, bit her lip and forced herself to keep moving. Because of the increasing angle of the rope each successive knot pressed harder as it passed between her legs, and soon the rope itself was a constant pressure there, forcing the thin fabric of her panties between the lips of her vagina. Oh god, it was hot in this barn! Even though she was practically naked her hair clung damply to the back of her neck and she felt a trickle of sweat trace a path down her spine.
She couldn’t see ‘Mr. Bad Man’ but knew he was just behind her, following her across the barn floor. When she’d nearly reached the other side and the angle of the rope had become too steep for her to walk any further she stopped.
“Back,” said ‘Mr. Bad Man’.
So she began the same process in reverse, feeling the pressure of the rope ease and the touch of each successive knot lessen as she walked backwards. When her back touched the post she stopped again.
‘Mr. Bad Man’ came around and stood in front of her. “I hope you don’t mind if I enjoy myself while you exercise,” he said, opening and unzipping his pants and taking out his erect cock.
He threw one leg over the rope and stood with his cock against her belly. He pulled her to him as he began rubbing himself against her. “Mmm...”
He slipped his hands inside her panties and fondled her naked behind while continuing to rub his erection against her, slowly, up and down, up and down.
Jane couldn’t believe how nasty he was being...and how much she was enjoying it. And although she tried to maintain her expression of icy disdain she was sure her ragged breathing was giving her away. Nevertheless she swung an elbow at him again, saying, “Get away from me!”
But he had been expecting such a move and ducked under it without even removing his hands from her panties, using his shoulder to press her back against the post. Then he began to lick her right nipple.
Oh god... She couldn’t help herself: a low moan escaped from her mouth. “Uhhhhh!”
‘Mr. Bad Man’ raised his head and grinned at her. “What’s that you say? Break time’s over? Yes, I think you’re right.”
He stepped back from her and swung his leg free of the rope, simultaneously tucking his cock away and beginning to zip up his pants. “Still, we don’t want you to feel neglected...” He dug one hand into a pants pocket while stepping close to her again. “Do we?” He opened his hand in front of her face to show her a pair of silver-colored paper clips.
Jane had no idea what they signified...until he took one between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, bent it open just a little and then attached it to the still-erect nipple he had been licking just moments ago. The sudden pinch made her gasp with pain—and before she could recover he had attached the remaining clip to her other nipple.
“Ow! Owww...you bastard! Take them off!”
She swung her upper body back and forth as if trying to shake them off, but to no avail. ‘Mr. Bad Man’ watched her impassively. Eventually she subsided, still gasping, and glared at him. But as she did so she noticed that the pain had gone away and what remained was a steady pressure on her nipples, as if each were being held tightly between a thumb and forefinger.
Oooo... She closed her eyes for a moment, her tongue protruding slightly from her mouth. She opened her eyes again and knew that he’d seen her...and no longer cared. It was too much; she couldn’t take any more. She looked at him, not trying to hide her desire. “Please...” she whispered, her throat dry.
“Walk,” he replied.
She shuffled back and forth along the rope as if in a fever dream—eyes closed to mere slits, her entire body dripping sweat, her nipples two throbbing points of heat on her chest--and an endless stream of rough caresses passing between her legs.
Her panties were now almost completely translucent with sweat and her other juices and clung to her skin. She moaned almost continuously as she walked, her pose of rebellion completely forsaken.
‘Mr. Bad Man’ stood impassively near the center of the rope, arms folded, face expressionless behind his dark glasses as he watched her go back and forth, back and forth.
Jane hated him. Wanted him to fuck her right now. Would do anything to have the torture stop. Wanted it to never stop. She felt as though there was nothing left of her but a mindless craving for release, a release that would always remain just out of reach.
She had just reached the point along the rope where she usually stopped and began walking backwards when she heard his voice right behind her, startling her.
“Keep walking.”
The angle of the rope was too high for her to walk any further and she tried to tell him, “But I can’t—ouch!”
Once again she felt the point of his knife in her behind and jumped forward...to find herself standing on tip-toe to keep her balance on the rope.
With a knot pressing firmly between her legs.
“Good. Stay there.”
He made her stand there like that for what seemed like hours although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, coming around to watch her wobbling on the balls of her feet, the sweat pouring down her face as the slightest motion caused the knot to roll and slide between her legs.
He continued to watch, silently, as her legs began to tremble with the effort of keeping her upright. Oh, they ached! Her shoulders were beginning to hurt as well from having her arms tied behind her head so long. The knot between her legs was beginning to chafe unpleasantly. She was desperately thirsty—and hungry too.
So how could she be so aroused?
Her senses were so overwhelmed that she was only dimly aware of him walking away behind her; of distant rattling noises followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor towards her. And she was so totally unprepared when the rope vanished from between her legs with a sharp twang that she fell over backwards... Only to be caught in ‘Mr. Bad Man’s’ arms and lowered gently onto something solid but yielding, and deliciously smooth and cool against her skin, though somehow rough underneath. It was narrow, and just long enough to lie on with her legs bent at the knees, and so low that her feet easily touched the floor.
She felt the rope around her ankles being untied and then, blessedly, the rope binding her arms behind her head as well. She thought she heard her shoulders creak as she painfully lowered her arms and let them fall to either side of her, the backs of her hands lying on the floor. The tangled remains of her bra were cut away and pulled from under her.
She heard a quick hissing sound—a bottle being opened, she thought—but in her lassitude paid no attention. A moment later she felt her head being lifted and opened her eyes to see ‘Mr. Bad Man’ kneeling beside her and holding a bottle of Coke to her lips. She drank eagerly, the fizzy sweetness like warm nectar and ambrosia in her parched throat.
When she had had enough and the bottle had been removed she looked up again at ‘Mr. Bad Man’ and saw that the sunglasses were gone, and Peter’s eyes were looking down at her, smiling but concerned, asking if she’d had enough, if he’d gone too far.
In reply she opened her mouth and let out a large, Coke-fueled belch. She watched Peter’s lips twitch as he tried, then failed, to restrain a grin. She grinned back at him...and then they both burst into laughter.
She managed to raise one arm, ignoring the pain in her shoulder, and pull him down to kiss her. She gave him her tongue, and after a moment allowed her arm to fall back to the floor so she could yield herself completely to his mouth.
As they kissed she felt his hand rest lightly on her stomach, which was still slick with sweat—as was her entire body, seemingly—then slide up to remove first one then the other paper clip from her nipples. Were they done with playacting? Did she want to be done? She was exhausted, stiff and sore. She wanted a hot bath, followed by a long nap. But she was still so aroused...
When Peter removed his mouth from hers she put on a fearful expression and said, “Please let me go, Mr. Bad Man... I’ll do anything you want...”
She saw Peter’s eyebrows go up as he realized she wanted the game to continue. But when they came down he was Mr. Bad Man again. “That’s right, my dear, you will,” he growled, slipping his sunglasses back on, “But first I think we need a little sustenance.”
Sustenance? Where did he come up with these words?
She watched as he took his knife out to cut two short lengths from the rope she’d been walking along and tied each of her wrists to her ankles. This left her spread-eagled but still comfortable on what turned out to be, she saw when she turned her head to watch him, a hay bale that had been covered with an old tablecloth which he must have brought.
When he was done with the ropes he sat down cross-legged on the floor beside her and picked up the bottle of Coke. He took a swallow or two, then casually tilted the bottle and poured the remaining soda over Jane’s breasts, the brown liquid running up into the hollow of her throat and down over her ribs into the tablecloth. He allowed the last few drops to dribble down her stomach and fill her navel before returning the empty bottle to the floor.
Then he leaned forward and began to lick it all off.
He started with her navel, his tongue circling and delving. To Jane it was almost as if he’d discovered a second vagina there, the thrills his tongue were causing radiating out and causing her back to arch with desire. She began to moan again as he slowly worked his way up between her breasts and began to lick delicately at the hollow of her throat. She tilted her head back and offered her neck to him, her mouth hanging open, the complete vulnerability of the act both frightening and heart-meltingly sweet.
Between her legs she felt the tension building—she felt like the rope she had been forced to stand on just before it had been cut, pulled so taut that it nearly hummed. So when ‘Mr. Bad Man’ rose and threw a leg over her and stood straddling her, then leaned down and braced himself on his hands as he began licking the Coke off her breasts, she almost screamed.
And when, several agonizingly blissful moments later, he reached her left nipple and seized it between his teeth, she did scream, the suddenness and intensity of her orgasm forcing it out of her.
In doing so she found that giving voice to her pleasure added to it and she screamed again as it rippled through her. And again, although not as loudly, loving the freedom of it, knowing there was no one to hear her.
The sound reverberated throughout the huge empty barn, agitating the pigeons and barn swallows in the rafters and sending them fluttering and calling to each other. ‘Mr. Bad Man’ jerked back from her, startled, watching as her body arched and fell back, over and over, until her screams subsided and gradually became sighs of release.
Whew, thought Jane, as the reverberations, both inner and outer, died away. She settled, with one final long sigh, into complete relaxation for the first time since she’d woken up that morning. She allowed her mind to drift momentarily—and was amused to find herself, in her imagination, trying to describe the morning’s events to Suzy while they worked at the store.
I don’t think so, she thought, and smiled to herself.
Besides which, she thought, the day wasn’t over yet. She was pretty sure of that. ‘Mr. Bad Man’ had been enjoying himself, but he hadn’t had any kind of release yet.
She heard a rattling sound and opened her eyes to find that ‘Mr. Bad Man’ was no longer standing over her. He was sitting cross-legged beside her, rummaging around in the large paper bag at his side. A moment later he came up with a partial loaf of sliced bread and packets of lunch meat and sliced cheese. He placed these on her stomach then groped around in the bag again before coming up with small jars of mayonnaise and mustard, which he placed on the tablecloth near her hip, and another bottle of Coke, which he opened with the bottle-opener he’d brought then placed on the floor beside him.
He began to make sandwiches, using her stomach as a table. Jane, although still sated from her orgasm, found it oddly stimulating, on a level that went beyond the physical, to have her body used that way and again wondered about herself that this should be so.
In the back of her mind was the thought that she should be ashamed, but she shook it off. She didn’t care anymore, as long as it was with Peter. She knew he loved her and would love her whether she did these things or not, that he derived almost as much pleasure from her fulfillment as from his own.
Thinking about these things led her into a sudden fantasy of being on her hands and knees on the barn floor, wearing only the sweat-soaked panties she had on now, while ‘Mr. Bad Man’ sat on the hay bale and used her as a foot-stool. She shivered.
“Hold still,” growled ‘Mr. Bad Man’.
He had his knife out and was spreading mustard on a slice of bread. When the first sandwich was done he placed it on her chest and began making a second. The smell of it made her salivate. She was so hungry! And so helpless.
She thought that by raising her head as far as she could she might be able to seize the edge of the sandwich in her teeth...but no, her chin would get in the way. There was nothing to do but wait—and suffer. Which, obviously, was what ‘Mr. Bad Man’ intended.
‘Mr. Bad Man’ finished making his sandwich and laid his knife on the tablecloth beside her. He turned and looked at her as he raised the sandwich to his lips and took a huge bite, then chewed and savored it before swallowing, apparently enjoying the look of longing on her face as she watched him.
“Hungry?” he asked. She nodded, and he nodded back, his expression mocking. “Well, yes, you’ve had a busy morning, haven’t you, my dear? All that exercise...you must be starving. You’d probably do almost anything for that sandwich, hmm?”
Jane was a little puzzled. I’ve already said I’d do anything, so why...
Then a thought struck her: he wanted her to talk dirty! So she opened her mouth, and in a pleading tone began to speak. “Please, Mr. Bad Man, I’m so hungry. If you let me eat I’ll let you...I’ll let you...put your...cock in my mouth.” She watched him carefully to see if this was the direction he’d wanted her to take. She saw him take a sudden breath through his nose and knew she’d been right.
She went on, “I’ll kiss it...and lick it...and suck it.” Now he was breathing through his mouth, and though she couldn’t see his eyes he seemed to be staring at her intently. Good. She writhed slightly, in what she hoped was a sexy manner. I’ll...I’ll suck your cock, Mr. Bad Man,” she gasped. “I’ll suck it and lick it until you come. You can come in my mouth...and I’ll swallow it. I’ll swallow every drop, I swear!”
“You are hungry, aren’t you?” replied ‘Mr. Bad Man’, rising to his feet.
Jane watched as he struggled to get his boots off, followed by his socks, then opened his pants and pushed them down to the floor. He stepped free of them and, naked from the waist down, threw his leg over her and stood straddling her again, his erection inches from her face. “Is this what you want?” he demanded.
It looked so huge from where she was. “Yes,” she gasped. “I want your cock in my mouth.”
And she did. She loved pleasing him that way, loved the feel and taste and smell of him filling her mouth, his instrument so blunt and masculine and at the same time so sensitive to the touch of her tongue and lips. Loved being able to make him come—the stifled cry, the sudden hot spurting onto her tongue—and knowing she had done it.
‘Mr. Bad Man’ appeared to consider, then reached behind him with one hand, saying, “Well, let’s see if you can earn that privilege.” He held up the jar of mayonnaise and unscrewed the lid. “But first let me offer you a little appetizer.” He dipped the first two fingers of his hand into the jar and came up with a large glob of mayonnaise—which he proceeded to lower between his legs and smear all over his sack. When he was done he extended his gooey fingers toward her.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
She did so and, when he inserted his fingers there, licked them off.
The taste of mayonnaise was delicious but there was so little that when he withdrew his hand she found her mouth watering for more. So when he stepped forward and lowered himself carefully until his sack was nearly touching her mouth she wasted no time in extending her tongue.
As she began to lick she encountered an odd variety of tastes and textures. She didn’t find the combination of the mayo and the many wiry hairs on his sack particularly appetizing, especially when combined with deep undertone of sweat-flavor there, but the way his two eggs slithered around inside the delicate skin as she jiggled them with the tip of her tongue was intriguing.
She was still famished, of course, but having only his sack to focus on was a new experience. She tried sucking one, then the other egg into her mouth to tickle with her tongue, then his entire sack.
‘Mr. Bad Man’ certainly seemed to enjoy what she was doing. His head was thrown back and his mouth was open, but the only sounds to come out of it were a short series of near-gasps: “Ah. Ohh. Ahh. Ah!” And so forth. But glancing to one side she noticed that his knees were trembling with the effort of remaining in a crouched position, despite having his hands on them for support, so she thought she had better help him to finish as soon as possible.
She swiftly released his sack from her mouth and extended her tongue as far behind his sack as she could reach, then licked his entire scrotum with one long wiggling stroke of her tongue, continuing over his sack and as far up his shaft as she could reach.
The effect was immediate and electric: ‘Mr. Bad Man’ jumped bolt upright with a loud cry—“Omigod!”—and grabbed his cock with one hand as it began to erupt. Jane watched him pumping it furiously with his fist and moaning out loud as his juice spurted into the air and rained down onto her face.
He left it there while he fed her. Occasionally after giving her a bite of sandwich or a sip of Coke he would scrape a little of his come off her face with the edge of a forefinger, which he would then insert into her mouth for her to lick off.
Oh god, he was so nasty!
When they were both done he put the lunch things back in the bag, then took out a napkin and wiped off her face. He took another napkin to clean his knife, and when he was done held it up so that the blade glistened in a nearby shaft of sunlight, turning it this way and that as if checking for any stains he might have missed.
Then he looked down at her, grinned evilly, and in one continuous motion slipped the blade under the elastic of her panties –a sudden flash of cold down her abdomen—and slit them open from the crotch up, the still-wet fabric tearing apart noisily.
Jane was shocked into crying out. She jerked her head up to see tattered flaps of cloth hanging limply on her hips and her curly thatch of hair plainly visible.
‘Mr. Bad Man’ gave her an amused-looking nod, as if to say, There, that’s better—don’t you think? Then he rose and, slipping the knife back into its holder, moved to the foot of the hay bale and resettled himself on the ground there. He reached up and, grabbing each of her legs just below the knee, yanked her towards him so that she slid across the tablecloth and wound up with her crotch almost in his face, her knees spread wide on either side of his shoulders.
He entertained himself for a while by running his fingers through the hair between her legs, occasionally wrapping a small tuft around his forefinger and tugging it gently. Then he pulled a strand of hay from the bale and began teasing her with it, running the tip up and down the inside of her thighs and over her stomach, occasionally stopping to press the point into her flesh just a little bit.
Jane thought she would have found this stimulating any time, but to have it done while she was tied up and helpless, her panties hanging in shreds, was unbelievably erotic. So when he dropped the straw and began doing the same things to her with the tip of his tongue, moving closer and closer to her center without ever quite touching it, she began to writhe in earnest.
“Oh, please don’t!” she pretended to whine, knowing what his response would be.
“Don’t...what?”
Right on cue, she thought.
“Please don’t...lick my pussy!” she gasped, simultaneously arching her back to bring herself so close that he hardly had any choice.
None at all, really, and he made the most of it, nibbling and teasing her with his lips and tongue and making short, fast lapping attacks on that special spot that made her crazy. He took her slowly towards the brink of orgasm, gradually insinuating his thumb between her legs then sliding it in and out while using his middle finger to stroke between the cheeks of her behind in the same diabolical rhythm.
Jane played the victim, moaning, then demanding, then screaming things like, “No!” “Oh, please don’t!” Oh no, stop that! Oh god—please, please stop!” She continued until he suddenly rose—his cock once more hugely erect—and practically threw himself on top of her, his mouth covering hers as he slid his hands beneath her shoulders and buried his shaft to its full length inside her, touching off an orgasm that reverberated through her the way her screams had reverberated throughout the barn. Then, minutes later, as she felt his thrusts building to a peak, it happened again, making her feel as though she were physically melting into a puddle. Combined with the heat and her exhaustion it was too intense, and she felt herself falling into darkness...
She felt something cool and damp on her forehead, and opened her eyes to find Peter—sunglasses gone—dabbing her there with a moistened corner of the tablecloth. He too was drenched in sweat, his hair plastered to his head, and his eyes were tired, but they sparkled as he smiled and said, “So...what do you want to do tonight?”
After untying her and helping her to her feet he slid her tattered underwear to the ground and helped her step out of it, then pulled off his sweat-soaked t-shirt so that they both were naked. He embraced her for a while, running his hands up and down her back and gently massaging her stiff neck and shoulders. Then, grabbing up the tablecloth and bunching it under his arm, he took her hand and led her outside.
The sunlight was blinding at first, but when Jane was able to see, there before her was a pond, blue and inviting.
They were both too tired to do much more than lie down in the water, submerged up to their faces. The muddy bottom was wonderfully cool and the water felt like warm silk against her skin.
Later when they came out they lay on the tablecloth to dry and rest some more. Neither said a word, but once Peter had turned and looked a question at her: Was it all right? Or maybe it was: Did you really like that? And she had replied by rolling over on top of him and kissing him tenderly before rolling off again and falling almost immediately into a deep sleep.
It was late afternoon when they finally struggled to their feet and made their way back into the barn to find their clothes. Peter had, of course, rescued the red shorts and the shoe Jane had thought she’d lost when he’d picked her up and put her in the trunk. And her t-shirt, though severely wrinkled, was fine. Her bra, though, was ruined, and as for her panties...!
They were soaked with sweat, stained and torn open to the crotch, and at first she was just going to throw them away, leave them there in the barn with her bra. But then when Peter wasn’t looking she suddenly folded them up and tucked them into the pocket of her shorts. She’d suddenly had a vision of wearing them—washed, of course (or maybe just as they were!)--beneath her clothing while she worked at the store, knowing they were there, and how they’d gotten that way. If they’d stay up, and not suddenly fall around her ankles while she was waiting on someone.
Oops! Excuse me, Mrs. Desmond, but you know how it is... My boyfriend slit them open with a knife while he had me tied to a hay bale.
Or maybe she’d surprise Peter with them some time—get all made up and wear something pretty, with those underneath for him to find...and remember.
The ride home was quiet. Jane felt a little odd without any underwear but found she liked not having her breasts constricted by a bra.
As they rode along she noticed Peter taking little sidelong glances at her from time to time, and wondered about them. He seemed uncomfortable about something and for a while Jane couldn’t figure out what it might be. Then she realized he was looking for reassurance and scooted over next to him. She took his right hand off the steering wheel and held it between her own.
She spoke softly, looking down at their entwined hands.
“Yes, Peter, I really liked it—all of it.”
When he turned, surprised at having his thoughts read, to look at her she met his gaze, nodded emphatically and finished, “You...and Mr. Bad Man...can kidnap me anytime you want.”
At which point Peter stopped the car in the middle of the road, grabbed her into a rough embrace and kissed her. When they broke apart she added, “But not for a couple of days, all right?”
Chapter Forty-One
When she arrived at work on Monday, Jane had already prepared a much toned-down version of how she’d spent her weekend (but considerably less toned-down than the version she’d given her parents—though her mother had actually winked knowingly at her when Jane had told it to them) for the interrogation she had come to expect from Suzy. She thought Suzy would be titillated by the idea of being ‘kidnapped’, though in this version Jane would still be blindfolded but maybe not handcuffed and certainly not stripped, and would be lying on the back seat, not in the trunk. And certainly the rest of what had happened would have to be erased in favor of a slightly sexy picnic by the pond...
But she never got the chance to try out the story because from the moment she arrived it was obvious that Suzy was bursting to tell something of her own. She kept darting glances at Jane, bright-eyed and smiling and seemed to be almost jumping up and down with the desire to share her secret. Jane was naturally curious to learn what the excitement was about but it had to wait, first while she asked Mrs. Jorgenson about getting the following week off—Mrs. Jorgenson looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded and said she’d check her schedule but she thought it would be all right—then while they helped a couple of early customers.
When the store was empty again Suzy said, in a voice Jane thought a little too bright, “C’mon downstairs and help me find that box of barrettes, will you? We’re almost out.” And when they were behind the door she took Jane’s hand and practically dragged her down the stairs. Then she took Jane’s other hand and, leaning close, whispered excitedly, “I did it, Janey! It was so much fun!”
Jane blinked. “Did what?”
“Just like you did! I… Oh—well, remember I told you about Joe Haworth?”
“Sure, ’Sloppy Joe’.” Jane smiled at her.
“Well, he called me on Saturday! I thought it was all over but he asked me to go for a walk, so Saturday night we just walked around talking, and he told me he’d missed me and wanted to go out with me again!”
“Well, that’s great Suzy...” Jane began.
“No, wait! So I told him okay, but only if he wouldn’t be so rough and grabby, you know?”
“Right...” Jane replied slowly, wondering where this was going.
“And he apologized, Janey! He said he was sorry he’d gotten so excited and I said—oh, I can’t believe I said this—I said I got excited too, that I liked it, I liked, you know, being...sexy with him!”
“Wow!” said Jane.
Suzy nodded enthusiastically. “You should have seen the look on his face!” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t think boys know girls actually like it too. Anyway, I told him and said he just had to be real gentle and take it slow, and he said okay, and that he was sorry again.
“So when we got back to my house we stood outside the door—my parents always go upstairs early to watch TV—and, you know, kissed and stuff for a long time. And he even let me show him how I like to be kissed, not so wet and sloppy, and he didn’t try anything else, just kept his arms around me. Oh, it was sooo nice, Janey!”
Suzy let go of Jane’s hands and hugged herself gleefully, “So you know what I did? I took him around the side of the house and told him to wait there, then I ran inside, up to my room, and turned on my little desk lamp so he could see me. And I was wearing this nice summer dress, see, and while I was running upstairs I—” Suzy inadvertently glanced at the ceiling and lowered her voice to a whisper before continuing. “I stopped and unzipped it in the back, you know? And when I turned on the light I went and stood in front of the window, and when I could see him there, looking up at me, I—“ Suzy leaned close to Jane’s ear. “I pulled my dress off my shoulders and sort of let it...fall down.”
Jane’s eyes went round. “No!” she exclaimed. “Did you really?”
Suzy nodded, blushing, and grinned. “And I was so glad I was wearing these really nice blue undies, you know? Not some ratty old things. And then—you’re gonna love this, Janey—I put my arms behind my head, and stood just like you did—like you told me about, you know?” Jane nodded. “And I stood there like that, just letting him look at me. Oh god, that was so much fun! He looked like he’d been hit by a rock!”
“Did he, you know, touch himself or anything?” Jane asked.
“Nuh-uh.” Suzy sounded a little disappointed. “We just looked at each other for a while, then I blew him a kiss and pulled down the shade.” She smiled again. “Ooo, I want to do that again! Right in front of him next time!”
Jane raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re gonna do that you’d really better tie him to a chair.”
Suzy laughed and said “Riiiight...” But it seemed to Jane as though Suzy was looking thoughtful again.
All the rest of that day they would occasionally grin at each other for no apparent reason. And Suzy never did ask Jane about her weekend.
At the end of the day, when Mrs. Jorgenson let her out the back door Jane looked in all directions, not wanting to be surprised by Chrissy again, but saw no one and made her way home not knowing whether to be relieved or worried.
Chapter Forty-Two
Naked, naked, naked! Chrissy could sense the way people were deliberately not looking at her as she got out of her car and started towards the store where Jane worked; could feel the sideways glances that were never there if she turned her head to look. It didn’t matter that she could look down and see her clothes there; they could see that she was naked.
She tried hunching over as she walked, one arm covering her breasts, the other across her loins. But it was no use, it only drew attention to her. She stopped, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to cover herself. Now people were beginning to stare, not even pretending they didn’t notice.
They saw! God was letting them see her nakedness!
“I’m sorry!” she cried out, and turned and ran back to her car.
She was shaking as she drove home. Would everyone now be able to see her as she was?
When she got home she went around to the kitchen door. Her mother was at the sink, peeling vegetables. Chrissy entered, almost on tiptoes. Her mother, hearing the door open, turned to see who it was, greeted Chrissy cheerfully and told her to come help finish with the vegetables. Chrissy did so, standing next to her mother and watching carefully out of the corner of her eye to see if her mother noticed anything.
Nothing. What did that mean? Was God saying that Chrissy was no longer fit to be seen in public until she had been purified? Would she have to stay home? What about work? Would she be naked there? More importantly, how could she become purified again if she couldn’t keep after Jane? Chrissy realized she would have to call her.
As soon as she could Chrissy left the kitchen and went upstairs. Her father wasn’t home yet and she knew her mother was in the kitchen so she thought it would be safe to use the telephone in her parents’ bedroom. She didn’t have much choice since the only other extension was on a table near the front door of the house. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly five-thirty: Jane should be home by now. Chrissy looked up the phone number in the directory. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath and dialed.
When she heard Jane’s voice saying “Hello,” she simply said, “It’s Chrissy.”
There was a puzzled silence, then: “Oh—are you looking for Jane?”
It was Jane’s mother—and Chrissy had been ready to blurt out a question about Father Brian! Thank goodness she’d waited! “I’m sorry. Yes, is Jane there?”
There was a soft chuckle at the other end of the line. “Yes. I had no idea we were beginning to sound so much alike. Let me get her for you.” Then, farther away: “Jane! Telephone...it’s your friend Chrissy.”
Then Jane’s voice on the line, saying, “Got it, thanks Mom,” and a click as her mother hung up her extension.
Jane was more than a little irritated. She’d thought she might actually have gotten through the day without another confrontation with Chrissy, and now Chrissy was calling her at home. She spoke abruptly. “Have you found a place?”
Chrissy, taken aback, stuttered, “N-no. I thought you...”
Jane cut her off, “Look, I’m trying to help you, but I can’t do everything. You find a place and I’ll get P...Father Brian to meet with you, all right? Stop pestering me!”
Chrissy felt herself losing control of the situation and began to panic. “No, you do it! Or...or I’ll tell your friend about his mother!”
Jane was tired of Chrissy’s attempts to bully her, tired of having Peter threatened. She snapped, “You come anywhere near Peter and I’ll tell your parents about Father Brian!”
She heard a gasp, and a faint, “No!” Jane brightened. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She had an inspiration and said, “Maybe they’d like to see the pictures I took of you.”
Chrissy’s voice was a squeak. “Pictures?”
“Do you think they’d like to see a nice Polaroid of you saying Hail Marys in your underwear? “ There was another gasp, and Jane went on, “Or getting your behind whipped with your panties down?”
Stunned silence. Then: B-but I...you said you went outside wh-when...”
“I lied,” said Jane. “So stay away from Peter, understand? Now listen—I’m going out of town this weekend. If I find out that you even said hello to Peter I’ll show those pictures to your parents...and everyone you know!” She hung up the phone.
Chrissy dropped the telephone receiver into its cradle as if it had tried to bite her. Sweet Mother of Christ, now what could she do? Her impulse was to call Jane right back, to apologize, to beg and plead...anything that would bring Father Brian back to her. But she didn’t dare, especially after the way Jane had just spoken to her.
Pictures! Jane had taken pictures of her! Even though Chrissy had been blindfolded at the time her mind was suddenly filled with images—the pictures Jane said she’d taken—of all the things that had happened after she’d put on the mask. Had she heard the flash going off, seen a hint of it around the edges of her mask? She couldn’t recall, but there, in her mind, were the pictures, frozen in black and white: (Flash!) taking off her dress-- (Flash!) kneeling in her underwear and stockings—(Flash!) allowing herself to be bent over and tied up—(Flash!) her behind in the air as the first blows fell—(Flash!) her panties being yanked down—(Flash!) Father Brian standing over her wielding his rope as she thrashed and screamed...
Oh! Oh Jesus! Her hand was under her skirt, pressing, pressing there! And she was gasping...Oh! Oh God, NO!
She jerked her hand out, grabbing her wrist with her other hand as if it were something separate from her that she needed to control by force. Oh no, no, no... It was punishment, it was purification! It was for the good of her immortal soul! She needed it. She needed it!
She closed her eyes. Oh God, why did You let Jane give me that note in the first place if You didn’t want...
She stopped in mid-prayer. The note. Something about the note, what was it? Did she still have it? She must! She jumped up and ran back to her room. Closing the door behind her, she thought for a moment. In her purse! She grabbed it off the bedpost and dug into it, searching for the tiny, nearly hidden pocket near the bottom. Yes, there it was!
She pulled it out and unfolded it, smoothing it in her lap—staring at it as if it held the solution to her dilemma. Why had she looked for it? It didn’t seem to be in the words themselves, written in ballpoint in Jane’s somewhat sloppy handwriting.
Handwriting.
She wondered if Jane’s friend even knew what her handwriting looked like...
After Jane hung up the phone she stood looking at it, thinking over the conversation that had just taken place. She had spoken impulsively and had taken a terrible chance in doing so, but she was pretty sure now that she had done the right thing. Chrissy would never dare tell Peter about his mother for fear of reprisals from Jane. Or so Jane hoped.