Chapter 2: The Abduction
As they sped away from the house, Heather hit and kicked the guys seated on both sides of her in the back of the car. Heather wanted to get out before they drove too far away from her the house. She did not want to get driven away to the point of no return.
Her fuck buddy, John, had locked her out of the house and turned on the light while she smoked a cigarette. Despite these young guys coming along the road, he did not let her in. They pulled in, trapped her, and had their way with her. John would not come out and save her. Her chest burned as much as the tears in her eyes as she replayed it in her head. Now she was their prisoner, probably to be raped for the rest of the night at their own pace and place of choice. Her ripped panties lay somewhere on his lawn.
Heather intensified her assault on the guy on her left and tried opening the door. There were a lot of shouts from the front of the car and the back and she may have even done a lot of screaming herself, but none of it processed in her head. She was working off of adrenaline alone with the one goal of escape working through her racing mind.
The guy on the other side grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward the center. He grabbed her legs as well as she tried to kick herself away from him. This allowed the guy she was trying to get through to grab her other arm and pull her back against the seat.
Now that she was trapped, the guys worked to sit her upright. The guy on her right released her other leg so the other guy could hold onto it. He squeezed her leg between his legs. She was now pinned to the back seat with her arms and legs spread open.
In the scuffle, her T-shirt had raised above her kicking legs. Frank, the guy in the front passenger seat looked back at her to see that she was in their control once again. His eyes quickly darted down to her exposed pussy. It was dark and close shaven. He smiled at her.
"At least pull my shirt down and cover me," she said pleadingly.
He reached in back and pulled at the top of her shirt, revealing one of her breasts, "You mean like this?"
She struggled to stop him, but the guys next to her did not give an inch. He moved his hand down and lifted the overlapping shirt a little more and felt her groin. He moved his hand over her pussy and caressed it. He looked from his hand to her eyes. He gave her a surprised look and separated her lips with two fingers. With a third finger, he stroked them.
Heather closed her eyes and tightened her mouth. Even if it could have felt good, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Even in a time of crisis, her stubbornness came to the surface.
After stroking her lips, he pushed a finger inside. It was mostly dry and hard for him to maintain stroking in the moving car. He pressed against her clit and patted it with the sudden bumps in the road. She did not make a noise or a movement. As she was preparing herself for a painful mauling by his fingers, he stopped.
Heather opened her eyes and found him looking long and hard at her. He didn't look too sure about what to do next. Then he gave her a scornful look. The driver broke the silence.
"Find something to blindfold her with," he ordered. "I don't want her knowing where we live."
Those words gave her a little bit of hope. At least they were not going to take her out in a field somewhere and leave her; at least not yet. She thought about escaping at their place and calling the police. She had to come up with a plan.
"With what?" the guy on her right asked. "There isn't anything back here to use."
"Use your shirt," the driver barked. "I don't care. Use your underwear if you have to."
"What about her shirt?" he asked.
"Leave her shirt alone," he ordered. "You want someone to notice?"
"Don't move!" the guy on her right ordered. "If you do, I swear I'll smack you so hard you'll feel it the rest of your life."
He slowly let go of her and after a pause took off his shirt. Heather did not move. After her previous failed attempt to get free, she decided she better just do what they say for now. He wound his shirt up and then placed it around her head and tied it. He pulled part of the shirt loose in the front so that it would drop down and cover her face. It smelled of smoke, male sweat and cologne.
The ride could have been 15 more minutes or it could have been an hour. She lost track. All she knew was they were originally heading south. After many turns and curves, she now had no idea where they went. Finally, the car came to a stop and the engine turned off. Before she could think of what to do, their doors were already open and the guy on her left and the driver were dragging her out. Her bare feet touched asphalt.
She was lead around on the driveway and a cement walk and then came to a stop at some steps. They guided her up the three steps, the one behind her lifting her shirt and exposing her ass while doing so. They went through a creaky porch door and then into a musty smelling room. She was led across the floor and then pushed. She stumbled onto some carpet and fell to the floor. With her blindfold still on, she crawled forward a little. Someone walked up behind her and flipped her shirt up onto her back. She stopped in her tracks.
"I'm sorry guys, but I can't wait for you," the guy she recognized as the driver said. "Looking at that ass up in the air; I've just got to have it now."
With his clothes still on, he pressed up against her on his knees. She could feel his bulge press on her crack. His fingers reached under and felt her pussy. She was completely dry and it hurt a little. He tried rubbing some more to try and lubricate her. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her legs. He pushed her down and gave up.
"Tom, don't you have a massager?" he asked. His voice grated on her. She hated him. He was the one who had originally gotten out of the car and grabbed her. He was aggressive and a total bastard.
"What do you want that for?" Tom answered.
"What do you think?" he asked sarcastically. "Let's get it. I think she can use a little lubing before we get the party rolling."
As they left the room, Heather sat down on the floor. Her hands were shaking.
"Can someone give me a cigarette?" she asked. "Please?"
Someone put a cigarette and removed the blindfold. It was the shirtless guy. As he lit her cigarette, she scanned the room. It was a living room with a TV, a couch, a few old chairs and a wooden coffee table piled with filled ashtrays, a pizza box, paper plates, and beer cans. Heather thought deeply about what had happened and the situation she was in. Somehow, the cigarette allowed her to think calmly and with focus.