Idnap Me Please

*I can't tell you what Paradise is like, but I'll know it when I see it*

The first moment I realized I was in trouble there was a van door sliding open and a man in a ski mask holding a submachine gun came out at me. The van cut off my forward progress and another car hemmed me in from behind.

"Open the door and slide over!" the man yelled at me. That barrel looked awful big so I did as I was told. When he got in he commanded that I handcuff myself and put on a black hood. After that, we drove around, parked somewhere then I was transferred to the van and driven around even more. I had no idea where I was.

I was aware that I was hungry and thirsty. When I asked for water, they shoved something hard into my stomach and told me to shut up. After that all I could do was pay attention to what was going on around me and hoped that any background noises might give me a clue as to where I was. Of course, I prayed that I would live to see my Mother again as well.

They weren't after me. I'm an only child, my Father died when I was nine, and my Mother does cutting edge research for a genetics lab. They didn't really want money; they wanted something from my Mother. Being seen as a bargaining chip didn't do much for my self-esteem. Believing that my Mother may not be able to do whatever it was she was asked to do didn't make me feel any better either.

I soon figured out there were four kidnappers. The first two were the Professionals. They were a husband/wife team that pretty much thought together and worked things out quickly and efficiently. I didn't learn too much about them because they didn't talk too much and when they did it was in hushed tones. They really didn't have much to do with me once I was in the safe house. I called them Joker and Harley.

The other two I labeled the Expendables. The male of the bunch was a brutish thug who delighted in coming over to me and telling me that he was going to shove a grenade up my ass if Mom didn't come through. When I asked him what he was trying to get he hit me. I took that to mean he didn't know and that the professionals didn't trust him with the information. I didn't blame them. Sadly, I think this sick psychopath would be the one to kill me. He was the Thug.

The other expendable didn't talk much, which was mainly because she was the 'step-and-fetch-it' of the group. Everything was 'slut' this and 'you slut' that. Even the professionals despised her. With their continuous need to repeat themselves around her I got the impression she wasn't too bright. She also must have had the self-worth of a mouse. She was the Punching Bag.

Soon enough I had to do the whole 'Proof of Life' thing and the professionals headed out to get the ransom. I figured that would be the last we would see of them too. I told Thug as much and he went nuts on me. Then he went nuts on the professionals. I heard guns cock and a deathly silence. Finally the Professionals agreed to take the Expendables with them.

Harley 'suddenly' realized that someone needed to stay with me, the hostage, because somehow I was going to bust out of the handcuffs restraining me to the chair and bolt for freedom. I felt my Hulk coming on. Seriously, I thought that my wrists would snap before the wood in the chair would. I had no intention of running away.

I kept mum on that fact because I knew what was coming. Thug in his brilliance decided that the Punching Bag should stay with me until they got back. Since I was pretty sure that the only thing the Thug was going to get was a bullet to the back of the head and I would never see the Professionals again, I decided to take my chances with the Punching Bag.

I sat back and waited. I asked the Punching Bag for something to drink so she brought me a soda. I reminded her that I couldn't open it with my teeth but if she would un-cuff me I would gladly do it myself. She opted to open it for me because she was afraid of her 'brother' (Thug?). I nearly choked to death before she realized that I couldn't take the whole thing in one gulp.

Next I asked for some music, or something to listen to. She cut on the TV because, you know, I wanted to stare at the black hood fabric on my head during the Wheel of Fortune. I asked her to take off my hood so I could watch TV with her. She thought it over. Five minutes later she asked me to repeat the question because she'd forgotten what it was. I gave up.

The show was pre-empted by news of a shootout at a local mall. It seems three criminals had duked it out with dozens of cops who just happened to be on the scene. The van the criminals were in had exploded for some unknown reason. What do you know; the Thug really did have a hand grenade. The Punching Bag watched it happen, watched it happen again, then suddenly burst into hysterics.

"Oh God! My Brother is dead. What am I going to do?"

"Let me go and I can help you," I offered.

"No, I can't do that. They will be pissed with me when they get back if I do that." Duh?

"They aren't coming back. They are crispy critters at the mall," I persisted.

"Oh ... we'll I can't let you go because they will be angry."

"I think we have established that they won't be angry with you if you only unmask me," I said, changing tact.

"Oh, alright then, if you don't think they will be angry." I really had no answer to that.

She took off my hood and I blink hard due to the sudden light. As my eyes adjusted I began to think something was wrong with them. I blink again and I'm certain that it wasn't my eyes. This girl was a bombshell; fucking gorgeous, whatever else you want to call it. Bending over facing me, I could look from her crystal blue eyes all the way down to her tits of mythical proportions. At this time I would like to point out the biggest reason that men work out is to see women in sports bras.

"Are you okay?" she asked me with total innocence and the first thing that occurred to me is this girl is about to be doing twenty-to-life in some lesbian correctional facility being DP'ed by some bull-dyke named Ethel and her buddies.

"I'm okay. Are you hungry?" I inquired. She looked at me, processing the information.

"Sure," she smiled.

"Where do you want to go to?"

"Chucky Cheese?" she suggested to which I nodded.

"Let's go," I smiled. I moved my arms to remind her that I was secured to the chair. "A little help here?"

She pulled out the key and unlocked the cuffs. I looked at the gun in her waistband. It was big – a .44 or .40; I'm not a big guy. I could have taken it then and that would've been that. She had this open trusting look in her eyes.

"You may want to keep the gun on me," I hinted. She looked confused. "I'm your kidnap victim?"

"Oh! Yes, thanks. Hold on," she said as she pulled out the gun and pointed it at me.

"Well, I think you partners are going to be busy for a while, but the cops might be able to trace them back here so we should go," I told her. She bobbed her head.

"Do you have a lot of cash? We don't want use my credit cards because they will be able to trace us through them," I said.

"They can do that?" She gasped. I groaned. This was going to be harder than I thought.

"What is your criminal background? For that matter, what is your name?"

"My name is Tamara Miller and I don't know what you mean by that first question," she responded.

"Tamara, I'm Leo Keyes and I need to know how old you are and if you have ever been in prison," I sighed.

"Does foster care count?" I shook my head. "No," she said meekly.

"Have you ever been a prostitute?" I had to ask. She nodded. "You do realize that's against the law, right?"

"It is?" she replied in shock. "I always wore a condom. Does that count?"

"Yes it does, Tamara. Was that other guy really your brother? You know the one who kept hitting me."

"Yes, his name is Roy."

"Was he your pimp ... did you give him your money from whoring yourself out?" I said sadly. She nods again.

"Assuming your brother doesn't come back, what are your plans?" She stared at me with a childlike vacantness. "Your brother isn't coming back, Tamara. None of them are coming back." Tamara started crying. This woman couldn't go to prison. She'd die.

"He left me didn't he?" she sobbed. "I did something stupid and he left me."

"Tamara, you didn't do anything stupid. Your brother got ..." telling her he'd become a briquette didn't seem fair, "... arrested, but he wants you to stay free so ... you need to find a place to put me until you can figure out how to ... make money enough to get him free."

"Okay ... I can do that ... what should I do?" she pleaded.

"Is there a car?" She nodded. "Fine, let's get all the cash we can then go to a motel near the edge of town. We'll plan our next move from there." She nodded. "Let's do it now." She nodded again. She looked at me. I took her hand and walked through the house until I found a black bag with some cash and weapons. It was a criminal Go-To bag. We headed out to the car; she got into the driver side. I had her pop the trunk so we could store the goods. I took a few hundred with me and jumped into the passenger side and we took off.

"My Brother is dead, isn't he?" she finally said to me at a stoplight and I started reassessing how much she was in shock and how much that she was simply not too bright. She had seen her brother burned up on national television and might even have understood that it was his own dumb fault. I imagined he was the only family she had left.

"Do you need me to drive?" I asked her. Tamara nodded. She slipped across the seat and I ran around the car. "Do you know a hotel that might work as a hideout?"

"No, I never did much thinking about what do if Roy died."

"Okay Tamara, we are going to go get a motel room then went to the Chucky Cheese to work on your survival plan. I figure once you are set, I can escape and you can make a clean getaway. I'll tell them you are a fifty year old black man with one eye and a limp."

She grinned at that then started to cry. I hate it when girls cry. I moved over to her side and put an arm around Tamara to comfort her. As she leaned into me it occurred to me that Tamara was quite tall; maybe six feet. She had golden blonde hair nearly to her ass, but it was thick. She has all the right curves, if you like your woman curvaceous, and as stated earlier, tits to die for.

Her face is somewhat round and angelic with the clearest ice-blue eyes I'd ever seen. Every ounce of my being screamed at me to fuck this girl, yet here I was comforting her and trying to protect her.

"I'm scared Leo," she hiccupped.

"I've got you Tamara. I'll figure a way out of this for you."

Tamara's response to grief was to go out and play at Chucky Cheese. I'll give her this much; for an eighteen year old, she rocked at those games. Also, her grip was stronger than mine, and when she playfully punched me in the arm, it hurt. When I asked her about it, she matter-of-factly told me she'd been fighting off men and boys in the foster homes since she was ten. She was quite the fighter.

We got back to the motel shortly after dark. There I was on the evening news. The police were out in force looking for me. I was rich and privileged after all, and I'm sure Mom contributed to all the right people. There was no hint of Tamara. They were still trying to identify the three possible kidnappers that died in the explosion though they had definitely determined what had happened. An off-duty cop had stumbled upon the scene and acted. Shots were fired and the van blew up when something inside was hit. There was some belief that I was the 'third body'.

I decided we both needed a shower. I suggested that Tamara go first and she could handcuff me to the bed. She decided I should go first and she could then handcuff me to the bed naked. I had a hard time arguing with that logic. It felt good to get clean. I showered, shaved, and checked my face in the mirror. I wrapped a towel around my waist and went out to see Tamara watching Cartoon Network. I'd never actually watched that before.

I didn't do much watching after I sat down either. Tamara handcuffed me to the bed then started stripping in front of me, just out of reach. I wasn't sure if that was on purpose, or poor spatial awareness. She seemed totally oblivious to my wide hungry eyes. As she sashayed toward the bathroom and looked over her shoulder with that child-like innocence she said,

"Please don't run away. I don't know what I would do without you." She then noticed the tent under my towel, giggled and went into the bathroom. For my part, I rummaged through ever drawer I could reach with my hand or foot to see if there was a condom anywhere. I even thumbed through Gideon's Bible to see if someone used a condom as a book mark – no such luck.

Tamara came out with a towel wrapped around her hair and nothing else. I absently noticed she'd used my razor, but I really didn't care. It was disposable and besides, she had left just enough hair to be sexy while allowing a man to get down to some serious business.

"Tamara, what is the sleeping arrangement going to be?" I asked. Seeing some confusion, "Where are you going to sleep and where am I going to sleep?"

"Oh, we are going to sleep in the same bed, Silly. I can't have you running off on me."

"Tamara, I wouldn't do that to you," I confessed.

"I know," she said as she crawled up on the bed with me, "but I don't want to be alone. Don't you worry none; I'll leave you be."

Considering the last thing I wanted her to do was leave me be, I had to groan. She tucked me in, got the gun and put it between us, then snuggled in next to me – and the gun.

"Good night Leo," she murmured as she drifted off to sleep.

"Good night Tamara," I responded as I rolled onto my side and looked at her. She was soon asleep and snoring softly. I wanted to lie there all night and drink in her beauty. I was asleep in ten minutes.

I felt a weight upon my hips and breathe upon my face. I woke up with a start, pretty sure I'd been dreaming the past forty-eight hours. I moved my sore, stiff arm and heard it clank against the bed post. Yes, I was handcuffed so no, I wasn't dreaming. I opened my eyes and in the dawn light coming through the curtains I made out Tamara hovering over me, hear head surrounded by a halo of golden hair.

"Tamara, I ..." I began. She ground her hips against mine and I felt myself stiffly respond. "I didn't want to take advantage of you." Even I knew that sounded lame.

"I know," she smiled, "that's why I want to do this. I always have to fight off the boys, but you are different. You respected me, so I want to reward you for being nice to me and not running away."

"You handcuffed me to the bed. I wasn't going anywhere," I grinned.

"I left the key next to the lamp," she told me. In all of her walking around naked I'd totally missed that. I could feel her getting damp and it was turning me on like nobody's business. I ran a hand along the curve of her ass to her hip and up to the closest breast. She gasped.

"My breasts are very sensitive," she moaned. I tried to imagine how this could possibly be a bad thing. I traced a fingertip up to her nipple which became instantly hard. She arched her back and pushed harder down on my cock which was now slipping up and down between us. I wanted to put a hand on her back and pull her closer, but it clanked against the bedpost once more.

"Tamara, if I had a hand free ..." Tamara shook her head.

"No, I like you right where I have you," she smiled seductively. "You had your chance to get away."

I try to twist my body so that I can lower my head enough to push her breast into my mouth, but my skeletal structure is having none of it. I must have whimpered because Tamara moved farther up my body so that I could accomplish the feat.

I was very careful with the administration of my tongue and lips upon her breast. I didn't suck too hard, or for too long. I gave her a chance to recover by blowing cool air upon it whenever my lips moved away. From her guttural noises I could tell she loved it, but I had no idea until I felt my stomach become very wet and sticky. Her scream should have been a giveaway.

My first thought was that she was so loud that someone might call the cops for fear that I was trying to kill her. Her first thought was to slide down and wedge my penis up inside her. I liked her choice better than mine – a whole lot better. Tamara wasn't tight, but she was snug and when she began working her vaginal muscles on me I knew I wouldn't last long.

"Do you like that?" she teased. I was too busy trying not to come to reply. She slid up and I popped out. She slid down again but failed to catch me like she had previously. She slid along my shaft until she was at my balls.

"Whoops," she said with this all too cute pout. That was it for me. That voice; that face, and the feeling of her vagina sliding down my shaft caused me to shoot all over my belly and up to my chest. I doubted I had ever come that hard in my life and I wasn't even inside a girl.

She sat there looking down at my stomach as my cock finished twitching. The look she gave me was priceless. Without words she said to me 'Did I do that?' She made it even better.

"Let me clean that up for you," she said softly. How does any heterosexual man reply to that? I nodded vigorously of course.

Tamara crawled backwards down my body. She pulled all of her hair to one side, leaned over my balls and began licking and sucking. I was rock hard again in seconds and that hasn't happened since I turned twenty. After giving each testicle its own tongue bath she moved up to my penis. She licked along each side, avoiding the head.

When she had cleaned up pool of semen at the base of my stomach she went back for my penis. She rolled her tongue around the head then looked up.

"Don't you dare come yet, ya hear?" she commanded.

"I'll try not to, I swear," I ground out. I was already in the deep-breathing stage of arousal.

Tamara slowly started bobbing up and down my cock, swallowing me in little bits. She was clearly a pro, because my whole member began disappearing down her throat. I've never been deep throated, but I've only had four blowjobs before either. My ex-fiancé preferred hand jobs because they were less 'gross'.

I didn't know how it was for the rest of the male population, but the first time a woman (or man if that's your thing) takes all of you inside their mouth, it is Nirvana. Normally I don't come twice in a night. It takes a lot of bedroom antics to make me perform at that level. Here I was trying desperately not to come twice in just five minutes.

"All clean," she pronounced as she let my cockhead roll off her tongue.

"Are you sure you didn't miss a spot," I panted.

"Sugar, I would have tasted it if I had," she smiled as she licked her lips. I couldn't argue with that.

Holding her hair back, Tamara went back to the business of cleaning me up. It took me a moment to realize she wasn't accidentally rubbing her stomach against my cock. She was rolling it around and moving up and down over it. I damned that woman and her crafty ways while at the same time praying she'd never stop.

"That's the last of it," she said as she raised herself to meet my eyes.

"You missed a spot," I teased her. She looked confused so I leaned forward and licked a tiny bit of semen had gotten on her nose. That action made me re-evaluate my sexuality for a second. Normally the thought of tasting my own come would have felt gay, but not with her. With her it was fun.

"Let me get that," she grinned. She leaned in and we swapped spit and semen and I couldn't tell you who got more of what on that exchange and I didn't care. What she said next had been told to me hundreds of times before but it had never sounded sexier.