The Taking of Cheryl, Book One: Cheryl Captured

by Paul Blades

  “I’ve got a job you can do for me. There’s a cutie in Tulsa who’s ripe for the picking. I’ve had a man watching her for a while. Lives alone, goes to work and back home every day. She studies part-time at college. No time for a social life. No boyfriend. And her parents are dead. A simple set up. How about it?”

  “You know I work alone.”

  “So, make an exception. You’ll have some fun, make a little dough and get this other bitch off of your mind,” Nora said. “And when you get her here, I’ll let you fuck her any which way you like. It’s fun to get them started.”

  In the end, Turk agreed. Maybe this was just the thing. To have a new face cringing at his would be a good thing. Good for him.

  Two days later, Turk flew in to Tulsa. He was met at the airport by a mousy looking guy, short, balding, dressed like a schnook. He knew this schnook. He was goofy outside, but was down and dirty inside. No wonder Nora didn’t want this guy to make the snatch alone. The girl probably wouldn’t ever make it to Nevada, or if she did, she would be quite used merchandise.

  “Heya Turk. How’s it goin’?”

  “Cut the chit chat, Lenny. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere we can talk.”

  “Sure thing. I got a car in the lot. We can go to this little motel I’ve been staying at. I’ll show you the reports on the girl.”

  Lenny was a schnook, but an efficient one. He knew the dangers of getting caught at this game. If you talked, someone soon would slip you a blade in your stomach. If you didn’t, someone would slip a blade in your stomach. Getting caught was a death sentence.

  When they reached the motel, they went to Lenny’s room. Turk didn’t book a room there because he didn’t want to highlight that he and Lenny were together. If they caught Lenny, the motel clerk would not be able to identify the guy who was hanging around with him. One visit was fine, but no more than that.

  Lenny had the job well scoped out. The girl was very attractive. She had a slim figure, almost dainty. She was on the short side, wavy, mid-length, blond hair, a wide, pouty smile. Her blue eyes had that sparkle in them that some of the top models had. She was not first class, however, as her eyes seemed just too close together, her face just a little too broad. Whoever had shopped her to Nora had known what they were doing. This one was not for the high priced market. But she was good to look at and could probably scream and beg with the best of them. And she had a mouth, an ass and a cunt.

  Turk spent the evening stalking the girl. He was an expert at it and the risk of exposure was minimal. Lenny had assured him that everything was fine and that the snatch could go ahead that night, but Turk wanted to scope it out for himself first.

  The girl left her work at about 4:30 and drove north on Rte. 73 to the outer suburb where her college was. He noted her leaving for class and then returning to her car around 7:45. No one walked with her. She seemed all to herself. She drove directly home.

  “Ya see,” Lenny expostulated later, “ya see what I told ya? She’s ready to go. Ripe.”

  “Ok, ok,” Turk replied. We’ll get her tomorrow. Is the truck all ready?”

  “Yeah, a deep blue Ford Econoline, with a load of junky old furniture. And an old trunk, just big enough.” Dark blue was better than black for inconspicuousness. People remembered a sinister black van, but a dark blue one was innocuous, just part of the scenery.

  “Good,” the Turk replied.

  “By the way, her name is Heloise.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what her name is,” the Turk replied.

  Heloise had a late class the next night. She was due home about 9:45. It was early fall, so it got dark around 6:30. Turk arrived with the van and parked it about two miles away. Lenny picked him up and dropped him two blocks from the girl’s apartment.

  She lived on the second story of a three family house. There was a fire escape out the back. A bus driver lived upstairs and he worked nights. On the first floor was the aged owner of the house and his ancient wife. They went to bed around 8 p.m. The house was set back from the road about 50 yards, with a long, winding driveway. The neighbors on both sides were an equal distance away. None of the yards were lit. The property was heavily treed and there was no moon. It would be dark across the lawn where the Turk would have to carry the sleeping body of the girl to the van. They dared not drive the van up the driveway as that might disturb the oldsters or the neighbors, representing a break from the routine.

  At 8:45 p.m., Turk worked his way up the fire escape. He reached what appeared to be a bedroom window on the second floor and delicately jimmied the lock. He entered the apartment without making a sound.

  The Turk would hold the girl until 3 a.m. and then Lenny would drive by. If Turk gave a signal from the window, a short flash from a pencil flashlight, he would go get the van and drive back. Turk would bring the girl down the fire escape and then look for the van to dim its lights and stop. The less time that the van was stopped in front of the house, the better.

  At 8:45 p.m., Turk worked his way up the fire escape. He reached what appeared to be a bedroom window on the second floor and delicately jimmied the lock. He entered the apartment without making a sound.

  The girl had left the hall light on and the Turk could see his way around the bedroom where the light shined in. He moved out into the hall and down to the living room. Its windows looked out to the street. He could just see Lenny’s car. He flashed a light and Lenny moved on.

  About 9:50, a car pulled up in the driveway outside. He peeked out the window and saw the headlights of the car go out. Moments later, he could hear the footsteps of the girl as she walked slowly up the stairs. Her heels made an echoing sound in the hallway, a sound that the oldsters downstairs were probably used to and which would not disturb them. Turk slipped into the bathroom , which was just opposite the entrance to the apartment.

  Turk contemplated the blissful ignorance of the girl as she mounted the stairs. Little did she know that she had eaten her last meal as a free woman, gone to her last class, read her last book, and was about to take her last breath of free air. She had made the last decision about what she would wear in the morning and what she would do with her day. She had taken a last look at anyone she knew, collected her last paycheck, driven a car for the last time. From now on, all that happened to her would be decided by others. From now until she drew her last breath.

  A key slid into the lock and Turk heard the tumblers of the lock turn. He could see the door opening from his vantage point in the bathroom through the crack between the door and the door jamb. The girl entered, oblivious to the danger lurking within her apartment. He decided to wait until she got settled in to the apartment before making his move.

  He could hear the girl dump her schoolbooks on the kitchen table and seconds later, open a kitchen cabinet. He heard water being poured, the microwave turned on, and the clatter of a spoon and cup being placed on the kitchen table, a chair being moved. He heard a book opened. She was doing her homework. If this kept up, he might be here for hours.

  Suddenly, Turk heard a chair scrape on the kitchen floor. He heard the girl’s footsteps approach the bathroom. She was either going to take a leak or go to the living room. It was the latter, as the girl passed by the door, Turk sprang.

  It was easy to get his arm around the girl’s waist and his hand across her mouth. The girl had time only to let out a little squeak as his palm silenced her. His grip was strong as he carried her struggling form into the living room. Holding her in the air to prevent her from stamping on the floor Turk leaned towards her ear to give her a whispered threat when she kicked him solidly in the shin with her heavy heeled shoe, first one and then the other. His grip loosened slightly as he reacted to the unexpected pain. The girl then swung her head back and belted his jaw with the back of her head.

  Turk was stunned by the girl’s quick reactions to being grabbed. Doubtless she had attended a self-defense course and was told the tricks. Next she would be trying to get at his balls. She was twisting around in the Turk’s grip, getting ready to knee him a
nd to scream bloody murder as soon as he let go of her mouth to cup his excruciating testicles. Well, Turk had not survived years on the streets for nothing. He was stunned by the onslaught, yes, but not fatally so. His reactive self took over. Keeping his hand over the girl’s mouth, squeezing it as hard as he could, he took his other arm from around the girl’s waist and gave her a quick chop in the upper thigh. The girl moaned in pain, the noise muted by the hand over her mouth. He took this split second’s respite to permit the girl to finish her twisting so that she now faced him. Turk had to act quickly. He needed to react before she did so that he could forestall a knee in his groin, a blow that might disable even him, at least long enough for the girl to raise an alarm.

  Quickly, with the expertise of many a struggle behind him, Turk gave the girl a jab in her solar plexus. Her eyes widened and she gasped for air. This gave Turk enough time to pull a small throw pillow off of chair in the living room and push her face into it. He then kicked her feet out from under her and carried her over to the sofa where he jammed her head into the seat, face down. He could hear her wheezing for air behind the pillow, a sound almost stifled by the pressure on her head from behind. Turk quickly removed a pair of handcuffs from his pants pocket and slapped it on to the girl’s right wrist. She, even in her distress, could tell what he was doing since she started to flail her other arm. Turk had repositioned himself directly behind the girl, immobilizing her feet. He leaned into her back and let the pressure of his body replace the pressure on the back of her head. With two hands free, it was a simple matter of grabbing the waving arm and enclosing it in the other clasp of the handcuffs. She was secure.

  He lifted the girl’s head slowly to make sure she wasn’t going to cry out and then pulled her back so that she was lying on her back on the floor. He pulled her away from the couch so that her feet could be extended. Her eyes were wide with pain and surprise as Turk placed his hand back over her mouth. He sat athwart the girl’s body, his ass on her thighs. She was looking at him with a look now of fear and hatred.

  Turk pulled out his long blade, “the convincer.” He ran it along the girl’s neck, blade side up. She could feel the cold steel of the knife. She shuddered. “Let’s cut the bullshit, honey. No more resistance or I’ll scar you with this beauty up and down your pretty little face.” The girl’s eyes widened again. Turk knew that this threat was an effective one. Would a girl rather be raped or have her face all cut up and scarred? A rape you could get psychotherapy for. A nasty scar six or seven inches long from the cheek to the jaw was something else. The girl nodded quickly and emphatically, eyes on the hand holding the knife.

  Leaving the knife at the girl’s throat, Turk removed his hand from her mouth and pulled a ball gag out of a pocket of his “campaign” pants. “Open wide sweetheart,” he cooed to the girl lying beneath him. Tears were now glistening in her eyes. She opened her mouth docilely and the gag was jammed in. After putting the knife away and belting the gag at the rear of the girl’s head, the Turk turned his attention to her feet. Pulling the other pair of handcuffs from his pocket, he clicked one and the other end on her ankles. He then flipped her over, brought her feet up towards her hands and, using a third pair of handcuffs, clipped the ones around her wrists to the one around her ankles. Voila, it was done.

  The Turk took stock of himself and the girl. He listened carefully for the sounds of any noises downstairs. After waiting a minute or so, and hearing only the labored breathing of the hogtied girl, he rose to his feet. Lenny was not due for a few more hours and Turk began to settle himself for the long wait. He would administer the medication about a half hour before the girl was to be taken out to the van. Until then he would have to amuse himself.

  Turk decided he would look around the place, as was his want on such occasions. He found a small case of jewelry in the bedroom, nothing of note in there. He found a check book and a bank book in the top drawer to the dresser. Small change. He did find something of interest in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It was a dildo, shaped expertly to look like a cock. It even had a battery powered motor in it that made it vibrate and squirm. He would have some fun with this.

  He returned to the living room and saw that the girl had remained stock still. Turk pulled the girl to the center of the room and rolled her on to her back. Time to get a good look at this slut.

  He leaned over and looked the girl in the eye. “You and I are going to have a little fun now, so just cooperate and you won’t get hurt.” Her eyes widened, as he expected they would and she started to plead from behind her gag. He decided that another demonstration of force was appropriate and so he chopped her again in the thigh. She moaned and then looked at him. She knew he meant business.

  He began to unbutton her blouse. Her chest heaved with panic and fear. Turk took no notice and continued his job. When he had the last button undone, he pulled the sides of the shirt back over the girl’s arms. Revealed were two delightful orbs encased in a cotton bra. She was a simple girl after all. He had found no fancy lingerie in her bedroom. It was nice of her, though, to choose this day a bra that opened from the front.

  The girl was sniffling now. Turk took no notice as he unclipped the bra and the orbs fell loose. As expected, the breasts were delectable. Marble white and made for the whip. He pushed against one of them with his hand and felt the warmth of her body. Her nipples were surrounded by small areolae, bumpy and with a few small strands of white hair on each. Turk took the opportunity to lick at one nipple and then the other. She tasted of sweat, fear. He then took one strand of hair from her left breast and quickly pulled it out. The girl flinched. It hurt, but not that much. One by one, the hairs came out, six in all. The girl’s breathing became heavier as she protested the insult to her body.

  He lingered at the view of the girl’s solid, firm breasts. They were about medium in size, not large for her frame, but not small. The skin was very pale and he could see, even in the dim light from the hallway, the blue of veins beneath the surface. Turk took both breasts in his hands and he rolled them against the girl’s prostrate body. He then tightened his grasp of them, squeezing them tighter and tighter until there was a moan from beneath the gag. He looked at the girl’s face and a drop of water, a lone tear, ran down from the corner of her right eye.

  “Too bad,” he thought.

  He wanted to see more and so he began to unbuckle her jeans. First the pretty pink belt that matched her blouse, and then the snap at the top, and then the zipper. It made a slight ripping noise as it descended, an unmistakable sound. The girl’s body stiffened.

  It was a little more complicated job to slide the jeans and underwear over her hips. But Turk managed by lifting her body and, using one arm at a time, pulling the pants lower and lower. After three or four pulls on each side he made his goal. It was easy then to pull the pants down to her knees.

  Heloise, as befitted her name, wore pretty, flowered panties. Blue and pink, cotton, of course, and not bikini style either. Modest panties for a modest girl. Her bush was sparse and thin, blond, like her hair. Her cunt was soft and warm to the Turk’s hand.

  Heloise had ceased all resistance, a sign of her diminishing hope. Her eyes were closed. Her back ached from lying atop her manacled hands. Her knees were straining at the cramped position mandated by the link between her ankle cuffs and that of her wrists. The ball gag was stretching her mouth, an unignorable presence. And this man, this unknown, callous man was fondling her most private place. As his fingers sought the apex of her cunt, she cringed slightly. But when his efforts began in earnest, she found herself unable to resist the rush of blood to her loins. Against her will, the folds of her labia began to engorge, fluids began to flow inside. Involuntarily, her knees widened, just a touch, her body wanting to ease access to her point of pleasure.

  Turk was observant of these changes in the girl’s demeanor. He had seen it often. The body controlled the mind. That was what passion was all about. Nature had a way of pulling all of us towards the act of copulation, ensuring the continuanc
e of the race. Some, like Turk, and those he supplied with nubile, young playthings, perverted this law of nature. But the numbers compared to the whole of the human race were miniscule. Population-wise, they would not be missed.

  Heloise suddenly caught herself as she realized that she was giving in to the assault on her pussy. But it was too late, as Turk had his hand well situated between her legs and was pressing his fingers inside. “She’s tight,” he thought. He decided it was time for Heloise’s surprise. He took the dildo from behind him and called out to the girl softly. “Heloise, look what I’ve got for you.”

  Her eyes had been shut, but they opened at this entreaty. A grimace crossed her face. She knew what was going to happen. Her little toy, which, from time to time had been a source of release for her sublimated desires, was now to be an instrument of her debasement. She murmured from behind her gag, “No, no, please no.” But all that emerged was a muffled plea.

  Turk now pressed his body in between the girl’s knees and spread them as far apart as they would go. She was resisting him, and it took some force to push her thighs apart. Heloise moaned in pain.

  “Now, you see, Heloise,” Turk whispered to her, “you must cooperate or this won’t be much fun. Relax your knees and get ready for what’s coming.”

  The girl surrendered meekly and the tension on her knees and thighs slackened. She was crying though, tears streaming down her face.. She jumped slightly as Turk pressed the tip of the dildo to her pussy. The folds of flesh surrounding it were still flush and engorged. It was a simple matter of pushing the head of the dildo inside. Turk began rubbing it back and forth, just the head inserted, teasing her, softening her some more, preparing for the plunge deep inside. The dildo was squirming and vibrating. Heloise gasped behind her gag as it was pressed forwards just a little more. Turk could see the anguish in her eyes as she tried to deny what her body wanted. He pressed the rest of the dildo home.