As I scream and plead—the sounds of which don't carry far in the festive night—they jerk my hands behind my back. A plastic zip tie soon binds my wrists together. They pull it so tight it digs into my skin, nearly drawing blood.
“Get her feet, her feet!” growls the man pressing my head against the wall. He speaks English, but with an accent I believe to be Spanish.
“She's a feisty one!” The other man has red hair and a goatee to match. I place his brogue as Irish, but then again he could be Scottish. I could never tell those apart. He wraps a tree trunk-like arm around my knees and holds me still while another zip tie links my ankles together.
“Let me go!” It's hard to yell without revealing my Russian heritage, but I think I do all right. “Why won't someone help m—”
The Latino silences me, shoving a thick white bar towel into my mouth. I gag, nearly retching, as it stretches my jaw apart and tickles the back of my throat. A roll of duct tape is used to hold the packing in.
Irish grabs me around the waist and hurls my bound body into a pile of cardboard boxes. Instantly he sits across my belly and produces a knife, and I wonder if I've made a mistake and am about to be killed.
I wince as the knife slashes my top button free. I struggle with sincerity as he uses the weapon to cut my garments from me one by one. As each item of clothing, from my khaki pants to my shredded pink panties, hits the ground, the Latino puts them into a plastic bag. My cell phone and wallet are confiscated, disappearing into his pockets.
Barely able to breathe with my mouth obstructed and a heavy man across my gut, I still try to struggle. When they started stripping me, I got a bad feeling that they were going to sample their new merchandise on the spot.
I'm not disappointed. Irish squeezes my nipples hard between his fingers, eliciting a muffled yelp from my gagged mouth.
“Go watch the street,” he says to the Latino. By the speed with which the younger man obeys, I figure Irish must be in charge. Then he grins down at me, and I know exactly what he's planning. I was expecting this, tried to steel myself for it as an inevitable aspect of being taken captive, but now that the moment is upon me I find myself bucking wildly beneath him.
“Shh, shhh,” he says, caressing my cheek with the dull edge of his knife. I shudder, pretending to be cowed, though I'm actually close to panic. “Just relax, and you won't get hurt...too much.”
He stands up and doffs his pants. An impressive erection nearly ten inches long lunges out at me, and I whimper. I'm expecting him to cut my legs free, but he steps inside my knees and just forces them apart while he sits down. My bound ankles now behind the small of his back, it's simple for him to drag me by the hips until the head of his cock is warm against my twat.
I growl behind the gag when he pinches my clit. My wrists jerk at the zip tie, drawing blood. If I could, despite Boris, I would free myself right now and put an end to this. If I could.
I groan as he enters me, without preamble or lube. I'm not in the mood, but my body's reactions take over and a shudder of pleasure erupts from my abdomen and spreads like fire.
“There you go,” he says, caressing my hair almost gently. “It's not so bad, is it? I do this a lot, my little tart. You'll be thanking me for this cock in a week...”
He thrusts his hips into mine, and I feel the bulbous head of his cock drive deep. Irish must trust his lackey, because he spares not a glance to the mouth of the alley. His eyes are focused on me, mouth slightly open as he grunts with exertion. Rough hands paw my firm breasts as I gurgle behind the bar towel.
It's over mercifully quick. Irish's eyes roll back into his head, his mouth twists, and he pulls his shaft out just before he pops. Hot, sticky fluid stains my belly, running down between my legs.
“Sorry about the mess,” he says with a sneer “but we don't want you getting pregnant...at least not until we have a buyer for the baby lined up.”
There's no hiding the repugnance on my face, even with a gag in my mouth. Irish laughs, enjoying my impotent rage.
I'm dragged to my feet. The Latino notices the fun is over and comes back to assist. As the revelers party on a short distance away, they prepare me for transport. A stout rope is used to glue my elbows together, then run through the zip tie around my wrists. My hands are now bound to my waist, completely useless. Then they slash my ankles free only to re-tie them with cord. They leave about a foot between my ankles, so I can walk but not very well.
I'm starting to wonder how they plan on sneaking me out of the alley, since I don't see a vehicle anywhere, when Irish produces a brightly colored vinyl cloth. It ends up being a clown costume, one of the kinds where it appears as if the harlequin were walking on his hands at all times. An ingenious way to hide my bound, naked body. After it's pulled over my head to sweep the pavement by my feet, I can only see through a tiny rectangle.
Each of them grabs me by straps sewn into the clown suit, and I'm dragged out into the street. Few people give us more than a passing glance, though one child does come up before me and demand candy.
“Piss off, brat!” says the Latino. I can't see Irish's face, but his tone sounds annoyed when he speaks.
“It's all right, little fellah.” I can hear the crinkling of a wrapper, and then the boy bounds away.
“What was that all about?”
“Now that kid won't bitch about the mean clown who wouldn't give him candy.”
“Oh. Right.”
After walking for a block, we pass a bonfire. Irish tosses the bag with my clothes in it into the blaze. A white van door is slid back, and I'm tossed inside on my belly. I struggle to a sitting position as I feel the van jostled by their heavy forms in the front seat.
Then we're rolling along. I've met with success, of a sort. I chew on my gag and flex my fingers in their bonds, trying to stay upbeat.
I'm coming Boris. I'm coming.
Svetlana is tough as nails, but can she survive a brutal program designed to make any woman into a wanton pain slut?…! Read ‘Kidnapped, Trained, and Mad as Hell’, available at Lot’s Cave now.
Other Lot’s Cave Novels
Daddy’s Strip Search Click Here
Naughty Mom Click Here
Shhh! Indecent Librarian Click Here
Big Sis Click Here
Daddy’s Touch Click Here
A Controlling Interest Click Here
More Than Her Mother Click Here
Mother’s Duty Click Here
Mars In My Venus Click Here
A Mother’s Love Click Here
Angel Games Click Here
Punishing Sarah Jane Click Here
Sarah Jane’s Revenge Click Here
The Truth Click Here
Pussycat Smile Click Here
Man of The House Click Here
Daughter of Babylon Click Here
Mom’s Monopoly Click Here
Daddy’s Girl Click Here
My Sister’s Thighs Click Here
Daddy’s Sleeping Partner Click Here
The Strongest Bond Click Here
At His Command Click Here
Back to Eden Click Here
My Son’s Education Click Here
My Son’s Wicked Price Click Here
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Torturous Alliance Page 17