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1
“Miss me Duncan?” the whispered words sliced through the silence.
That was how it started. Cold, harsh, calculated. She didn't have to see who spoke them.
“Cheating death itself these days huh Marcott,” the blond fired back.
That comment brought a chuckle from the woman, who pressed the cold barrel against Heather Duncan's neck.
“You know I couldn't die. There was too much unfinished work to do,” Mallory hissed.
Heather heard the soft clacking of her shoes as she stepped away.
“Lose the jacket,” Marcott demanded, making certain to keep a safe distance.
Heather slowly slipped out of the light dress coat she had worn over the black lace, sleeveless blouse, and tossed it on the desk.
“Slowly raise your hands and bring your left one behind your head,” Mallory commanded.
Heather complied. Marcott, she knew, was easily capable of carrying and using multiple weapons.
She felt cold steel touch the palm of her left hand.
“Take this and snap it around your left wrist,” Marcott commanded.
Heather did as told.
“Tighter,” came the simple command.
The blonde was able to gain two more click before the police issue cuff was tight around her wrist.
“Now the other wrist,” Mallory ordered.
Heather brought her wrists to her front.
“You take me for an idiot,” Marcott hissed. “Behind your back.”
It was awkward, but after a minute or two, Heather had successfully completed the task.
“Turn around, very slowly,” came the request.
Heather turned to face the woman she had been certain she would never see again, Mallory Marcott. She was as beautiful as she was deadly. Even behind the all black spandex outfit she wore, Heather could see the sleek contours of muscular flesh; the smallish breasts, which Heather knew would be erect in spite of the “all-business” air being conveyed.
“Very good, Duncan,” Marcott said nodding. “Now raise your right leg and place your foot on top of the desk.”
Heather hesitated, but a motion from the silencer-equipped gun forced her to comply. She raised her long leg, deeply tanned courtesy of a recent two week stint in Cabo, and placed her pump clad foot on the 30-inch tall desk top.
“This won't end well for you,” Heather said.
“Oh really?” Mallory chuckled. “I feel rather certain that the near future doesn't bode well for you either. Lift your arms away from your body.”
Mallory was good. She took no chances. Heather did as she was told.
In the next instant a searing pain shot through her arms as her elbows were drawn painfully together. It was apparently a pre-tied loop of plastic cable tie that was slipped unnoticed up her arms, then quickly tightened. Then the excess end was snipped off.
Heather started to lower her leg.
“Not yet, Duncan,” Mallory hissed. “You should know the rules.”
Heather Duncan shuddered. Indeed the near future was not boding well.
She felt the woman's hand slide under the hem of her skirt.
“Still like the sexy stuff, huh,?” Mallory's husky voice whispered, her fingers exploring the lacy, brief panties.
Heather felt herself becoming aroused as her former lover's fingers stroked the puffy flesh pressed hard against the flimsy material.
“I still do it for you don't I?” Mallory chuckled.
“And you're still presumptuous, I see,” Heather shot back, trying not to betray herself.
Mallory's fingers gripped the waist-band of the panties, dragging them downward as far as they would go with Heather's leg raised.
“All-right Duncan,” Mallory said, releasing the panties and stepping back, “you do the rest.”
Heather knew what she wanted. She lowered her foot to the floor, the lowered panties now free to fall uninhibited, to bunch around her ankles.
“Kick them over to me,” Mallory motioned.
Heather did so, and in a manner she knew was expected. No sudden movements.
Mallory picked up the silken panties, carefully wadding them up, never taking her eyes off the blonde girl.
“Hardly enough here to do the job, is there?” Mallory smirked. “I'd add mine to the cause, but it would be too time consuming.”
Heather felt a sense of relief that the black spandex worn by Mallory would not allow for its rapid removal.
“I hope your not fond of that blouse,” Mallory motioned.
Actually, she was. It was expensive. Black, sheer, it was intended to be worn with a bra, and under a jacket. Mallory moved in and made short work of it with her knife, seeming to appear from nowhere. Now Heather had only her black sculpted bra from the waist up and it lasted even less time, her large breasts bobbing into prominence as it was severed.
“Oh my, Duncan. Have they gotten bigger?” Mallory asked.
She stepped back. Heather was a sight. Her large 37-D breasts could have been wrongly accused of having help to appear as they did. With her elbows drawn back, they thrust forward in defiance of their weight and size. Her ponytail came over her shoulders in front, falling to the side of her right breast, and terminating at her waist.
“I see you've been avoiding those topless beaches,” Mallory said. “Don't tell me modesty is getting the best of you.”
She referred to the two tiny triangles at the blond girls chest, squarely over the nipples. Heather glared at her.
“Naw, it's just that now I tend to hang with more respectable folks,” she shot back.
Mallory laughed.
“Still got spunk, Duncan,” she grinned. “That's good. You'll need it.”
Mallory was wadding up the ruined blouse. Then she wrapped the blond's panties around it.
“Open,” Mallory said, holding the mass up close to her mouth.
Heather turned away.
Mallory slapped her tits.
“You think I wont make you pay if you don't do as I say?” she hissed sternly.
Heather was inclined to resist, but she knew it was ultimately futile. With a look of disgust, she opened her mouth. She wasn't really prepared for the enormity of the gag. Mallory had to push and shove and pack, but finally it was all inside, at which point a wide leather belt was wrapped around twice, then firmly buckled.
“You know, you're better when that pretty little mouth is occupied,” Mallory laughed. “I should have remembered that.”
Heather's arms were already growing numb as Mallory placed the jacket around the blonde girls shoulders. She fastened the buttons down the front, tucked the arms into the pockets at the side, then stood back to make certain that all passed inspection. She nodded with approval, then pulled one last item from the pouch fastened at her waist.
“This is to make sure you don't try anything funny,” she said holding it aloft for the bound girl to see. Heather knew what it was. In the business it was simply known as a “sizzler.” It was metallic, and in this case lubricated. It fit inside a girls vagina, looking for all intents and purposes like a vibrator of sorts. But once inside, two spring loaded hinges on each side sprung open. Not far, they didn't need to. Each hinge was only a half inch or so long. But the underside of each had tiny barbs that kept it from coming back out. It was not really painful, unless it was extracted improperly. Or unless it was activated. It carried voltage similar to that of a stun gun. And if activated, Heather guessed that her childbearing days would be over at her current age of 22.
Mallory moved behind the blonde girl, and once again slipped her hand under the mid-thigh length black skirt, to the now exposed pussy, and slipped the device easily into place. She tugged it back down slightly, just enough to open hinges fully, and then stood.
“All right Duncan, move it!” Mallory commanded.
Heather hesitated, her sensitive vagina not yet accustomed to the cool metal inside her. Marcott grabbed her by the ponytail, and the two, captor and captive, headed for the back door.
Outside all was quiet. As Heather's eyes became accustomed to the dark, she noticed the dark shape of a van. She groaned. Nothing good could possibly come from a ride in that van at this time of night, but her good sense told her little else availed her at the moment.
Mallory put her arm around Heather, embracing her like an old friend. As they walked toward the van, the side door began to open remotely. They went at a brisk, but steady pace, Mallory carrying on all the while about how good it was to see her old friend. Had anyone been around to notice, there would have seemed to be little out of order, but unfortunately for Heather, even that hope went unfulfilled, as the streets were empty.
Inside the van, Mallory quickly forced Heather to the floor, closing the van door in the process. There were no seats in the back, just carpeting on the floor. The light inside remained on, and Heather guessed the windows were tinted to obscure any passerby from seeing what transpired within. Mallory opened a small plastic lock-box and pulled out several more coils of the thin cord. She crossed the blonde girls ankles, and bound them tightly and painfully with a length. Her thighs were next, with more of the thin cord, and Heather hissed through her gag as it immediately cut well in. She was shoved to her stomach and more cord was tied around her ankles and up through the plastic tie at her elbows. Her ankles were pulled painfully up, even past her wrists, then the excess cord was brought down and fastened again at her ankles. She felt Mallory fumbling with her ponytail, then her head was jerked back and fastened to the mass of wrists, ankles and elbows in back. No longer concerned about being seen, Mallory now sliced through the remainder of clothing from the helpless blonde, and tossed it aside. It had been quick, but brutally efficient. Painfully arched, naked but for her high heels, elbows and ponytail bound to ankles, Heather Duncan had been effectively immobilized and silenced. When she was certain all the bonds were tight, Mallory fished the “sizzler” out from Heather's vagina, bringing a muffled sigh of relief from the bound girl
“Good thing you're flexible love,” Mallory whispered, slapping Heather's flank.
She gripped the blonde girls large breasts, squeezing them and pinching the nipples sharply.
“I've missed these,” she hummed, feeling them harden at her touch.
Heather moaned into her gag, embarrassed to have her body betray her.
“But those day are over now aren't they?” Mallory said, grabbing yet another length of the thin cord.
She wrestled the helpless blonde over onto her side, and began threading another doubled strand around Heather's waist.
“This, my hot little slut, will take your mind off of all we once were,” Mallory hissed.
She tightened it brutally, reducing the blonde girls waist from its normal 22 inches, down to a breath-inhibiting 17 inches, and leaving a long trailing end. This end was brought down between Heather's legs, her captors fingers making certain it bisected her where she wished it to, then passed up between Heather's brown ass cheeks, where she fetched it readily. It was brought up and around the elbow strap, then pulled on sharply. Heather whimpered through the gag, her eyes watering as the bristly cord tore into her sensitive cunt. Two more harsh tugs practically embedded it there, and Mallory tied the whole thing off, wrapping it around those cords connecting ankles, elbows and hair, and serving to arch her strained body even more.
“We've got a bit of a ride ahead,” Mallory said, her fingers once again exploring the lush expanse of her helpless captive. “Perhaps you can use your time to think of what you want to tell us.”
Mallory bent close, sticking her tongue in Heather's ear, an old trick she used in their passionate love-making sessions, and squeezed the bound girls breasts.
“Or, maybe you can conjecture what kinds of things we may inflict on this lovely body of yours if you decide to tell us nothing,” she whispered, emphasizing the point by tugging on the horrid crotch-rope.
When she was done, she left Heather to her private misery, bounding to the front of the van, and driving off into the night.
The “bit of a ride” part that Mallory had told her about was an understatement. Heather's limbs had long ago lost all feeling. Almost totally unable to move, she had no choice but to lie as still as possible, and hope for a short ride, her body becoming moist with sweat.
Her mind mulled the past 6 months in fast forward, a trick she had trained herself to do with some mental exercises. It had been a great time, up until the end. Her nights were spent in fulfilling passion with her gorgeous lover, her days, as an agent of Female Intelligence and Training, or FIT. They were whatever headquarters needed them to be. A highly trained outfit, they were all well versed in martial art, small firearms, interrogation, and duty to country. Their most recent assignment had been to shadow and arrest a group of female narcotics peddlers. Never would Heather have dreamed the girl sleeping next to her all those night would have been a part of the group. But small hints were hard to ignore. Computer security indicated someone tampering with her computer at hours only Mallory would have access to it. Evidence someone was monitoring her phone calls. Slipping out of bed in the middle of the night. But the most damning part was when she was caught red-handed photographing classified information.
Heather had confronted her. She recalled the teary-eyed denial. The final night of screaming orgasms that seemed to go on forever, and then the day at the lake. It had been a day of sun and fun, but when it ended, Heather watched in horror as Mallory drove away and into a fiery inferno of a crash not more than a quarter mile away. The fire had been so hot, no body was ever found. Heather's grief was tempered by reports from headquarters that Mallory had indeed been involved with the group known as FIRM, Female International Revolutionary Movement, and at the highest levels. Her grief turned to anger. She had been betrayed. She avoided work for a time, electing to spend time with her 16 year old sister Samantha. When the opportunity arose, the two of them spent a relaxing two weeks in Cabo, staying at a luxury villa, and lounging around.
On her return home she was greeted with more bad information; further evidence that FIT's operations had been jeopardized by Mallory's treachery. Heather felt horrible. The lapse in character judgment could have cost agents their lives. She vowed to be more cautious in the future.
But her vow had gone unheeded. Almost the second she heard the words “Miss me Duncan?” she had chills run down her spine. There was only one person possessing the necessary knowledge to gain access to Heather's secret studio. Disguised as a storage center, the entrance had been modified, the interior fortified, and an alarm system installed. All was for naught, though, with the simple overriding command reserved solely for Heather. Or anyone crafty enough to have stolen that command. And really only one person who knew her well enough to know when she might be most vulnerable to a sneak attack. She silently cursed herself. She could only guess what lay in store. One hope was that Mallory would have enough fond memories of their past time together she might see fit to go easy on her former friend. But the fact that she had abducted, stripped, and tightly bound and gagged Heather did not lend much credence to those hopes.
Finally, after what seemed to be 3-4 hours, Heather heard the van pull off the paved road. Still, it was another half hour before bouncing and jostling stopped, ant the engine shut off. After another wait of several minutes, the doors finally opened, and her legs were cut free. She was tossed over a burly back, and carried inside a cool building.
“Oh Duncan,” Mallory sighed with disgust. “I had SO hoped you might co-operate.”
Heather stifled a cry into her gag as Mallory tugged hard on the cord pulling her arms up towards the ceiling behind her back. It raised the blonde beauty to the tips of her toes. Her mouth worked against the foul tasting rubber which had moments before been crammed into her mouth, and buckled tightly in place. Mallory tied the cord off, and walked around to kneel in front of the bound girl, staring into her face. She brushed the long blonde hair away from Heather's pain-glazed blue eyes, having earlier released the braided portion of the ponytail, and then began to grope at her breasts.
“You know, I WILL make you talk,” she chuckled, feeling the helpless girls nipples stiffen in response. “I happen to know what makes you tick.”
Heather shifted from foot to foot trying to relieve the strain. Her body was soaked with sweat, her arms a single scalded unit from her elbow to her wrists. The thin sisal at her elbow crushed the joints together, and her wrists were turning blue from the tightness of the cords there. Mallory walked to the side of the room and returned with a metal rod three feet in length. It had leather straps at each end, and she knelt and fastened Heather's left ankle to one end of the rod. The right ankle was not as easy. Heather realized what was happening and tried to keep the spreading of her legs from taking place. But Mallory was patient, and in a matter of minutes, Heather's right ankle was firmly strapped to the other end. This new factor raised her even higher onto her toes, her legs now shaking under the strain.
“HUGO, I HAVE A JOB FOR YOU,” Mallory shouted.
There was a sound of footsteps entering the room.
Heather saw who she presumed to be Hugo. He was a giant of a man, at least six and a half feet tall, and probably close to 300 lbs. He was naked, had a chiseled physique, and a schlong the size of Cuba.
“I gather you can see why we call him Hugo,” Mallory laughed.
Heather struggled against her bonds. Hugo, for his part became erect almost immediately, his massive erection allowed to take shape directly in front of Heather's eyes. Mallory grabbed a bottle of lubricant and spread it liberally into the palm of her hand. Walking behind Heather, she cupped her hand against the bound girls exposed and spread sex, rubbing the slick moisture around and between the lips of her labia. The leftover liquid was rubbed onto Hugo's growing member, assisting with its rapid deployment.
“Hugo here is one of our security forces,” Mallory stated. “He has developed mentally to the level of a third grader, but as you can see his physical development didn't end there.”
Mallory walked back around in front of Heather.
“Two things he loves are food and sex,” she laughed. “And he just ate.”
Mallory nodded to Hugo, who slowly walked around behind the terrified blonde.
“When he is done, he has sibling who will take up where he left off,” Mallory went on. “Then we'll see if perhaps you are in more of a mood to chat.”
Mallory walked towards the door.
“I'll check back in and hour or so love,” she called
Heather didn't know whether that last comment was directed at her or Hugo, but as she felt his massive manhood press at her exposed opening the urge to figure it out magically vanished. She screamed into her gag as the man's length slid into her, and she bit down hard on the rubber gag.
Hugo at last pulled himself free. His grunts and groans told Heather that he was finally spent. It took that to know, because the sheer size of him made feeling anything else secondary. Hugo examined the fine specimen in front of him. He was occasionally allowed the spoils of war. But seldom were the rewards as pleasing to the eye. The girl had a spectacular ass. The way it clenched and unclenched, an involuntary reflex due to the size of what had just penetrated her, was arousing him once again. He leaned against her from behind, his hands reaching around and fondling her large breasts. Heather thought for a moment he was about to enter her again, but then he stepped away. He walked around front and used her soft blonde hair to clean himself.
He noticed she was trying to speak to him. There was no harm in removing her gag, so her freed her mouth from the hard rubber, pulling the gag free with a pop.
Heather moved her jaws back and forth for a time.
“Free my arms,” Heather said at last.
That brought a hearty chuckle from Hugo.
“Seriously,” Heather quipped, “I can do so much more for you with my hands free.”
Hugo mulled it over. There was surely little to worry about. A beautiful naked woman less than half his size. Surely it couldn't hurt .
“Look, if your afraid of me, go get your brothers and get on with this,” Heather said disgustedly, throwing her proverbial eggs in one basket.
That barb seemed to work. Hugo went to the counter nearby and picked up a pair of snips. He cut through the cord holding the girls arms painfully raised behind her, catching her as she teetered. He laid her on the floor, releasing her legs form the spreader bar, before snipping through the sisal at her wrists and elbows. Heather's arm flopped lifeless to the floor. Hugo began to rub at her raw elbows, his hands feeling the ridges left in her skin from the thin cord. It was a good 10 minutes or so, and Heather was beginning to fear that Mallory would return before she regained any feeling, but gradually the sharp pin-pricks of returning circulation gave way.
Heather got to her feet, Hugo anxious to see what she had in store for him.
“OK, your turn,” Hugo said, his eye like a kid at Christmas.
“My turn,” Heather echoed.
She walked over to him, her hands reaching for his penis. She grabbed him, gently, rubbing his member which once again sprang to attention. Hugo started giggling, the whole thing a perceived game. Then Heather grabbed his testicles and squeezed hard. Hugo groaned and bent over, only to be met by a knee to the nose. The crunch of bone could be heard, and as Hugo's hand shot up towards his nose, blood began to soak his palms. He looked at the blonde with astonishment, only to see a blur of her foot just before it smacked into his temple. Then everything went black.
“Hugo, what in the hell have you done?” Mallory screamed.
The floor of the room was littered with severed cords, and blood.
“She hurt me,” Hugo sniffed.
“Oh you poor dumb bastard,” Mallory yelled. “MARCUS, JEROME, GET IN HERE.”
From a distance could be heard the approach of running feet. Two young men bust onto the scene, quickly going to their fallen comrade.
“I'll tend to him,” Mallory hissed. “See if you can find the girl.”
The two started walking towards the door.
“HURRY DAMNIT,” Mallory snarled.
The two broke into a run as Mallory pulled a cell phone from her pocket.
“Marla, bring the chopper,” she said. “Unless something changes, we'll have to abandon this post.”
She listened for a minute.
“Why? Because that half-breed cousin of yours let her get the best of him, that's why,” she said irritated.
She listened again.
“Don't worry, I have a plan. We'll get her back,” Mallory said. Then she hung up.
She walked to the door and looked out the window in the hallway.
“I have a good plan,” she said with a wicked laugh.
TO BE CONTINUED......
Heather Duncan slid into the leather recliner and picked up the phone. It had been an embarrassing ordeal. Checking into the hotel in nothing more than a short bathrobe had caught the attention of more than a handful of onlookers. The twelve mile jog naked to get there had been worse. At dawn, she had managed to steal the nightgown off a clothesline. It was at least two sizes too small, but it served the purpose of sparing her from being arrested. At this point, she didn't know who was on her side, and a run-in with the police was the last thing she needed. The hotel clerk was another thing. She had to call headquarters and then have them pay for her stay with a credit card. In her room, she had taken a hot bath, rubbing at her weary muscles, before ordering room service. Then she made another call to headquarters. After running an over the line scan to make certain the line was clean, they got to what was needed. She would need clothes, a new location, transportation, and money. She wanted surveillance photos taken, and gave them the co-ordinates. Mallory was probably long gone, but they may turn up something of interest. And she would need a masseuse.
They assured Heather they would take care of her in short order. They ordered her to get some rest.
She hung up for a time, then called them back. There was one more thing. She wanted protection for her sister Samantha. Their agents would be busy today, but they would have them on site first thing tomorrow. Heather thanked them and hung up.
Alicia Monroe never knew what hit her. One second she had climbed the stairs to the practice loft, and the next she was grabbed and held from behind. She started to scream, but a meaty palm across her mouth mostly muffled it. She felt something hard pressed against the front of her mouth. She tried to resist opening her jaw, but the device was pressed so hard against her lips that she began to taste blood. When she did part her lips to relieve the pressure, whatever had been held against her lips was forced inside her, and buckled ferociously in place. It was extremely large, and uncomfortable. Because she had not gotten the opportunity to turn the lights on, she didn't know how many attackers there were. She reached for the object that had just been fastened so tightly in place, but her hands were snatched out of mid-air. She was taken to the floor, her wrists bent brutally high behind her back. Someone very large knelt in the center of her back.
“Okay,” she heard a man say.
With her wrist held, palms together up near the base of her neck, she felt some thin cord being wrapped around her wrists.
“Good,” she heard. “Now wrap it around to keep her hands there.”
She was moved to a sitting position as these words were spoken. The cord securing her wrists was wrapped tightly around her upper arms and body above her breasts, digging deep into the flesh, and forcing her arms into an even more severe position. After the cord had been passed about her body a half dozen times or so, it was cinched and tied off at her wrists. Alicia groaned into the gag, her arms straining uselessly in an attempt to find a more comfortable position.
She was at last able to see in the dim light the shapes of two men, both very large. Her arms were on fire. To her horror, the man who held her slipped his hand inside the tank-top, his hands groping her breasts through the athletic bra.
“Wow, feel these,” he said, pulling her shirt up over her breasts.
His companion was eager to comply. He ripped the bra off, marveling at the rounded flesh, and the pierced nipples beneath.
“Let's get her naked,” he grinned.
Alicia fought back, attempting to get to her feet. She was grabbed by the hair and held down, as one of the men ripped the tank top, casting it to the side. She was rolled to her belly. One of the men grabbed her ankles, holding them down. She felt cold steel at the crack f her ass, then groaned into her gag as it sliced through the waist of her short spandex shorts. They were pulled out from under her. The cotton briefs were next, the thin fabric lasting no time in the face of the onslaught. Her athletic shoes were next, and then the socks. The men stood. Alicia was snorting through her gag, her eyes wild. There was no sympathy in the eyes of the men. Once again they came towards her. In a natural reflex, her bare foot shot out, catching one of the men oh his shin. He cursed her. She scrambled awkwardly to her feet, staggered, then attempted to flee. Moving with a quickness that belied his size, the other man grabbed her by her raven tresses, and hurled her to the floor.
“Let's see there's no more of that,” he growled.
His comrade had quit rubbing his shin. While the first man grabbed and crossed her ankles, the other bound them tightly leaving a long trailing end, which was run up and through the cords holding Alicia's upper arms. Working like a team at some kind of girl-roping rodeo, the man holding her ankles knelt on her back and jerked her ankles high behind her, while the other man pulled out the slack. Alecia moaned into her gag as her body was bowed. They pulled her ankles impossibly high, placing her in a crippling hogtie. At last they could bend her no more, her ankles within a couple feet of her shoulders, and the cord was tied off. Alecia toppled immediately to her side. Because her ankles were crossed, her legs were spread widely apart. The men toyed with her tightly bound body. The man whose shin she kicked knelt and rubbed his meaty finger through her slit. He parted her plump flesh, sticking first one, then two fingers inside. Alicia clenched her eyes shut, unable to offer any resistance due to the extreme position she was tied into. Then he removed his fingers, inspecting the thin, neatly trimmed wisp of pubic hair. Her belly piercing was examined, the man tugging on it gently, then apparently satisfied, left it to dangle. Eventually she was dragged behind a waist high partition, and her torn tank top was tied over her existing gag. The men left her there, slipping out a side door into the hallway, leaving the nude, tightly bound teen in the dark.
Sixteen year old Samantha Duncan bounced across the street. She and best friend Alicia Monroe always were the first ones there for cheer-leading practice. As the only sophomores on the team, it was their duty to see that everything was ready before the juniors and seniors showed up. It was something she always looked forward to, because it gave her some time to converse with her friend without others around.
Alicia and Samantha had grown up together. They were as similar in their mutual interests as they were different in appearance, though both were on the small side. Alicia was the athlete. 5'1'' 112 lbs, dark shoulder length hair, dark eyes. Her legs were probably her strong suit, though the rest wasn't shabby. Her breasts were nice, not overly large, or even large for that matter. But they were noticeable. They had recently swollen to a 33-C measurement, and had begun to bob on her chest. Her waist, a trim23 inches was toned and had the sleek rippling associated with an exercise regiment, while her hips flared out to a solid 34 inches.
Four foot ten inch, 92 pound Samantha had accepted the fact that all the “big” genes in the Duncan family had been used up on sister Heather. Not that Heather was big necessarily, but just that Samantha was what she was. But she was no less a knockout. Her brief denim shorts, cut off to display a bit of cheek, made her shapely legs look stunning. Until she was 13 years of age, Samantha had what would be considered a boyish figure. Pretty much straight up and down. But then things began to change. Her hips began to widen, her chest to swell, and she allowed her hair to grow. She had grey eyes, and waist length blonde hair like her sisters. It was normally a shade darker, but their recent trip to Cabo had bleached it to the same platinum color as Heather's, and left her deeply tanned. She carried her gym bag which held in it a towel, and her sports bra and athletic shoes. For the time being she was bra-less under the white T-shirt with pink lettering that said “Sam I Am.” It had been a gift from her sister, who had always affectionately called her Sam. She would put her bra on later, in the dressing room. Her 32” B-cup breasts really needed no support, but she liked to wear some sort when vigorously exercising. Her waist was a minuscule 21 inches, and her hips 31.”
Samantha bounded up the steps, and opened the door to the loft. She was puzzled to see the light off. Alicia was always there first. But she shrugged her shoulders, and flipped the three switches on the panel just inside the door. She walked to cabinet against the far wall, opened it, and looked through the CD's. She had picked a couple out, when a muffled noise caught her attention from across the room. At first she thought it had to be from the department store downstairs, but then she realized it wouldn't open until noon. She set the CD's down, and walked over to investigate. At first, she saw nothing. She was about to turn when she heard it again. It sounded as if it was just beyond the partitioning separating the main area from a kitchenette. She walked to the partitioning and peered over.
“Oh my god Alicia,” Samantha gasped.
On the floor, totally nude and bound into what had to be a most painful position was her friend. She quickly moved around the wall and knelt by her.
“What happened? Who did this to you?” she cried, as if Alicia could possibly tell her anything.
Samantha tried tugging on the knotted leather, quickly realizing there was no chance of undoing them.
“Damn, I'll have to get something to cut you free with,” she cursed.
Alicia was squealing through her gag.
“Oh, I can't even tell what you want,” Samantha whimpered. “I'll be right back.”
She stood from her bound friend. Unable to take her eyes off of Alicia, she gripped the partition, using it as a “crutch” as she moved. She had gone a few feet when she ran against something. She started to move by it, unaware for the moment that this object occupied space where there should have been nothing.
“How sweet,” a mans voice interrupted her stupor. “Blondie to the rescue.”
Samantha gasped, looking around, then up into a mans face. He was tall, at least six and a half feet.
“You've got to help my friend,” Samantha pleaded.
“Oh really,” the man grinned.
The horrible truth hit her like a brick.
“You did this, didn't you?” she asked shrinking back away from the man.
He stepped towards her.
“Helllll..............” she started to yell, turning to flee.
Her cry was cut short by a second man who had come up behind her, clamping his hand over her mouth.
“Another fly in the web huh Marcus,” the man said.
He spun the young blond around, gripping her arms from behind. Samantha squirmed a bit, but it was as if she were held in a vice. His partner approached her. Her breasts were providing an obvious target, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. He ran his hands over her breasts as the girl made muffled squeals from behind the hand.
“Better get her gagged,” the one called Marcus said.
His partner nodded. Marcus pulled a massive ball gag from his pocket, and held it up in front of the hand currently covering Samantha's mouth. The man holding the blond girl moved his hand away, grabbing a hunk of her hair, and pulling. Samantha got out a small shriek, but it died quickly as the gag was forced into her open mouth. Samantha's eyes widened at the recognition of how wide apart her jaws were forced to go to accept the thing, and again at how tightly it was buckled once it was actually seated behind her teeth.
“Now scream you little cunt,” the man holding her said.
Marcus continued his massaging of her tits.
“What's underneath this, Sam I Am?” Marcus taunted her.
Samantha close her eyes as her favorite T-shirt was ripped from her body. Her small, firm tits sprang into view, the nipples high and to the outside by virtue of her arms being held behind her.
“Oh yes,” Marcus said pinching them.
In spite of their small size, they were beautiful breasts, residing wonderfully at the top of her rib-cage. Her slightly puffy nipples seemed to invite one towards them.
“My, my, my,” he continued.
He worked on them for several seconds, before nodding to his brother. Samantha's arms were held up in the air behind her, the man easily gripping her slender wrists in a single hand, forcing the blond to bend over. He held there while his partner looped a thin black leather belt around her biceps mid way between her elbows and shoulders. He took a couple of wraps, then buckled it tight, pressing her elbows tightly together, as well as the flesh several inches above. Samantha's arms felt like they were in a vice.
“What a great ass,” the man said holding her.
With her arms pulled strapado-like behind her much of Samantha's ass was sticking out of her denim cut offs and rubbing against his crotch, and he was obviously enjoying it.
“Get those shorts off,” Marcus grinned.
“Later” the other man said. “We better get before the posse arrives.”
“I suppose you're right.” Marcus said.
While the man holding Samantha fastened a short leather belt around the blond girl's wrists, the other man went to the painfully restrained Alecia. He first cut through the cord holding her in the stringent hogtie, then sliced those holding her crossed ankles together. The relief on the young girls face spoke volumes of what she had endured as they had waited for her friend.
Without much ado, the two young girls were loaded onto a freight elevator at the back of the loft. It opened to a seldom used alley-way at the back, and there they were loaded into a van. Both girls were tossed to the floor of the van, followed by the two men who quickly and very tightly bound their necks to their knees. Then their ankles were crossed and bound tightly as well. Satisfied the young teens were helpless, the men sat in the front, started the van, and drove away.
Heather Duncan set the glass of wine on the concrete rail, and gazed out over the 18 hole championship golf course below. Perhaps tomorrow she would get in a round. But then, that depended on how tonight went. A private jet had flown her several hundred miles west to a fund-raiser. It felt good to be back home in southern California. She had a lot of memories from there. She had been advised against going, but the thought of missing such an extravagant party was too much to bear. Her job was to gain access to a safe in a second floor bedroom of a local millionaire. Not to steal the rather amazing stash of jewelry there, but instead to ascertain his association with FIRM. If their intel was correct, there would be incriminating evidence there, and they not only wanted to confirm or deny his association with FIRM, but also to get photographs of that evidence.
Heather donned a short-haired black wig, and wore her sexiest black mini-the one that molded her large breasts attractively, slipped into her black stiletto heeled sandals, and went as Herbert Moore's date. Herbert was a local, totally unaware who Heather was. He had gone through a local escort agency and obtained her services for $1000. The rest was left to FIT to fill in. Herbert was a family-made millionaire. Little he did made even a small impact positively on his fathers company. But none of that kept him from living the high life. He liked looking the part of intellectual playboy, even if he didn’t fit the bill.
Herbert liked his booze. A lot. So Heather hastened the inevitable by slipping a nasty little sedative in Herbert’s drink. As he became affected, Heather schmoozed him out of the main party area, and into on of the vacant coat closets. There she did the small stuff such as kissing, letting him paw at her breasts, rubbing his crotch. In short order, Herbert was asleep, and Heather ruffled up his clothes to appear as if he just had a good fuck, and then locked him in the closet.
She slipped out unnoticed, gliding cat-like up the grand staircase to the upper bedrooms. She knew she would have to be quick, so she punched in the code she’d been given to the combination deadbolt, and slipped into the master suite. Heather tiptoed over to the Picasso hanging on the wall, wondering briefly whether it was a print or the original, and carefully lifted it from the its place. She smiled. It was, as she had been told, covering a safe.
“OK folks, here goes,” the beautiful blonde whispered to herself.
______________________________________________________________________________
“Nice work guys,” Mallory smiled. “I think the tide has just turned in our favor.”
Mallory wore her black leather cat-suit and brandished a mean looking plastic switch which she was taking a good deal of delight in swishing back and forth. She walked over to the naked Alicia and pinched her nipples. The helpless young teen whimpered and tried to shrink back, but the men prevented her from it. Her arms were still strictly tied behind her, wrists up at her neck in a severe reverse-prayer. They were in a small, well lit room somewhere about five hours from where they started their trip.
“Aren’t you a luscious little thing,”Mallory whispered walking over to Samantha. “Absolutely beautiful.”
Mallory’s hands explored the naked flesh before her. Her hands went to the waist of the tight denim cut offs still worn by the blonde girl. As she tried to slip her fingers inside the waistband, Samantha pulled away. Mallory nodded to the two men, who immediately pounced on the bound teen, and in seconds had her totally naked as well, exposing her neatly trimmed pubic area. She stood panting, her small firm breasts heaving, glaring at the woman in front of her.
“Oh my,” Mallory chuckled. “Such a frightful little beast. Hold her boys.”
The men eagerly complied. Mallory slipped her hands between the frightened girls legs, her fingers seeking out the warm sensitive flesh and probing inside. Samantha was horrified as she felt the women go straight for her clitoris, her strong fingers pinching the flesh in a knowing fashion.
“Not easily aroused huh?” Mallory chided the young blonde, removing her fingers.
It would have been almost impossible to find the current circumstances remotely arousing.
“Take Princess there to my room,” Mallory instructed the men motioning towards Alicia. “I’m going to have a little fun with Sweet Tits here.”
Samantha watched with a sinking heart as her friend was hauled away. The situation was no more dire than while Alicia was there with her, but there seemed to be some sense of security having her close.
“Now for you,” Mallory hissed, grabbing several hunks of thin sisal.
______________________________________________________________________________
Jonathon Sears woke from his sleep. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, maybe just a draft across his chest where it emerged from the sheets. He lay still for a minute, then quietly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He slept nude, and the thought of confronting someone almost made him slip into something, but there wasn’t anything handy so he proceeded as he was. He peered out the bedroom door and down the hallway. Nothing. He turned back around in time to see a form dart from the far side of the bed, attempting to flee past him. He swung at the person, but they ducked under the blow, delivering one of their own to his mid-section. It caught him by surprise. He threw another punch, but this one was slipped as well, and a spinning side kick knocked him back against the door frame. Again the form tried to move past him. Sensing he was the bigger of the two, he grabbed the fleeing burglar, the two of them crashing to the bed. It was then, as the two bodies fell, that he felt the firm bulges that indicated his assailant had breasts. This was getting weird. In the moonlight coming through the window he made out some shapely tanned legs, the feet bare. He grabbed the woman from behind, and tried to wrestle her down beneath him, but she was slippery. She spun out from his grasp, his hands gripping the light weight T-shirt, and he heard the brittle material rip free. Beneath it she was braless, her large breasts jiggling, he tried to get a look at the face, but she once again darted by him. His hand shot out grabbing the back of her lightweight cotton shorts. He swung her around once again towards the bed, and the effort ripped the shorts free. The woman bounced across the bed, springing to her feet on the other side. She danced lightly around the bed, and Jonathon could see some pronounced tan-lines, evidence she not only wore no bra, but had no panties on either.
The woman went on the offensive as another spinning kick caught Jonathon in the small of the back. As he fell towards the bed, he reached out and grabbed the woman’s arm pulling her onto the bed with him. He was under her now, her large breasts pressed against his chest, and he found that wrestling naked women had an arousal factor. She worked her way quickly up, grape-vining his legs and spreading them apart. He caught her scent. Her warm crotch was pressed against his stomach. His erection grew. She released his legs scooting down his body while at the same time raising her hips off him. He was breathing heavily as he felt her lower herself onto him, impaling his aching cock deep inside her. They lay there like that for a time, silent. Her vaginal muscles massaged him bringing him more erect. Then she began to move rhythmically up and down, slowly at first, then with a vigor of passion. He grabbed her beautiful breasts, squeezing them as she moaned with pleasure. She spun around onto her back as he worked himself into her. After a few minutes they moaned together, each one shaking with the spent pleasure.
They were silent for a time. At last he reached out, running his hands through her platinum hair.
“Hey babe,” he said at last.
“When did you know it was me?” Heather giggled.
“I think it was the breasts,” he chuckled, running his finger around her nipple. “Or, maybe it was the world class butt,” he continued, grabbing at her firm, round butt.
Heather kissed him long and deep.
“It’s been too long,” she whispered.
Jonathon nodded.
It had been a year. That was when Heather left to pursue the life she now was immersed in. That was when her parents had been murdered, spawning the whole change. Each was silent for a time, their minds dwelling on all that could have been.
“How long you around for?” Jonathon asked at last.
“Not long,” Heather said sadly, propping herself up to look into his eyes.
Jonathon rubbed his hands over his eyes and through his hair.
“I figured,” he sighed. He reached out and drew her near, her warm lush body once again relaxing. “Let’s just enjoy it while we can.”
Heather lay in his arms, a tear forming unseen by her mate, and rolling down her cheek.
______________________________________________________________________________
Samantha Duncan squealed into her gag as the plastic switch fell sharply across her tits.
“Save it,” Mallory hissed. “I’ve only just begun.”
The young teen snuffled through her gag. She had thought it couldn’t get much worse than being totally stripped, and tightly and humiliatingly bound, but she had been wrong. Again the switch fell across her breasts.
She was seated, if one could call it that, on a crude wooden chair in the center of the room. The plastic ties had all been removed, but they were replaced by the thin sisal which cut even more cruelly into her flesh. Her wrists and arms were still behind her, elbows crushed together. That had happened before she was seated. When Mallory brought the chair out from the closet, Samantha’s eyes had widened. Protruding from the middle of the chair was a phallus, pink in color, huge, and ribbed, and oiled. Taped against it was the head of an electric vibrator angled out towards the front of the chair. Mallory set the chair where she wanted it and then order the frightened girl over to it. When she balked, Mallory grabbed her by a nipple, and forcefully escorted her there. It took some time, but at last Mallory was able to coerce Samantha down onto it. Samantha of course, had no real choice in the matter as her nipple was pinched viciously until she complied. It was a slow but steady trip down, her eyes clenching as each ribbed edge of the thing slipped inside her. At last the young girls clit was stopped from going any lower by the vibrator, and while the rest of her settled the inch or so lower onto the seat of the chair, it stayed slightly above that, squarely on the flexible surface, while her labia was draped around and about the head of the device. Samantha wasn’t sure if she could have pulled herself off of it without some help, but Mallory wasn’t about to give her the chance. She quickly tied each ankle tightly to its corresponding upper thigh. Then she swung the young blonde’s arms up behind her, tying her wrists to the top of the chair back, and keeping Samantha bent slightly forward . A cord running between her big toes was tied around the top of the chair back keeping them awkwardly in check.
“Now Sweet Tits, have you ever been vibed before?” Mallory hissed.
Samantha just glared at her tormentor, drool spilling down her gag.
“That’s the second time you’ve given me that look,” Mallory warned her.
Seconds later another blow fell across the young girls tits. Samantha squirmed what little she could, her tits an agonizing stipe of pain. She felt the woman’s hands between her thighs, and in the next instant she was forgetting all about the pain. The vibrator came alive, and the young girls fingers began to clench and unclench almost immediately. The discomfort of being impaled on the pink monster was being countered dramatically by the vibrations coursing against her sensitive clit.
“Oh you little slut, you like it don’t you?” Mallory chuckled as the tiny nipples became erect on Samantha’s chest. “Good. We have some things we’d like to do to you, some things others might be interested in seeing. I always like to think an audition is in order before the big show.”
The words barely registered with Samantha, so intense were the sensations coursing through her young body. Mallory’s hand reached between her spread thighs, and a moment later the vibrator increased in pitch. Samantha was now quivering. Drool was spilling down her chest and Mallory began to tug and pluck at the young girls hardened nipples, at the same time bending down to nibble on the aroused girls ear.
“I am SOOOO going to enjoy you,” Mallory whispered.
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