The Taking of Cheryl, Book One: Cheryl Captured

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The Taking of Cheryl, Book One: Cheryl Captured Page 17

by Paul Blades


  Any expert will tell you that it is not necessarily how quickly you act, it’s how determined and forceful your actions are. Instinctively, Turk knew that acting in a rush could complicate things. The girl could be spooked by the telegraph of intentions. A hurried snatch caused commotion, courted recklessness. The Turk knew better.

  When Denise turned to see who had called out her name, she spelled out her doom. The Turk smiled up until the last second. He reached out his hand, as if to greet Denise with a handshake. Her eyes were directed to the extended arm. She did not notice that the other hand was removing something from the Turk’s left pocket. Suddenly, the friendly, extended hand was at her throat, actually lifting her from her feet. The Turk’s large, strong hand clasped Denise’s windpipe as he lifted her up and into the apartment. Denise reacted by dropping her purse and reaching for the hand that held her. Calmly, Turk kicked the purse into the apartment and nudged the door closed. His left hand snapped open a six-inch long blade. He held it to Denise’s face.

  She could see the shiny steel blade, but was slow to comprehend what was happening. After a moment, her need to breathe became intense and she realized that the man was choking her. She wet her pants.

  The Turk ignored the girl’s involuntary release. It was normal. It was irrelevant. All at once, the Turk’s mind came back into focus. He was committed. If he released the girl, she would certainly put two and two together rather quickly. That left two options; let the dangling, choking woman suffocate or take her. He realized that he had intended to take her the first moment he had seen her. He needed her, needed all of the Cheryl in her. If he couldn’t possess Cheryl, he would possess the next best thing.

  She struggled futilely, her legs dangling, her arms fruitlessly trying to unhook the Turk’s steel hard grip around her windpipe. The Turk spoke to her for the first time. He waved the sharp, awe-inspiring knife in her face. “If you make one sound, if you struggle, if you disobey me, I will cut your face into ribbons. Understand?”

  Denise had little communicative ability, but she blinked her eyes in what she hoped would be taken as assent. Satisfied that he had instilled the requisite degree of terror, Turk lowered the frantic woman to the floor and relaxed his grasp of her neck. Denise took deep, strained breaths. It was too soon to speculate what was happening here. She needed to recover herself before she could think. Turk did not give her time for reflection.

  “Take off your panties!” he ordered.

  Denise looked at the hulking, dangerous man with astonishment. Was this a rape? How did he know her name?

  The Turk resumed his tight encapsulment of Denise’s vital air passage. “Now!” he growled.

  Quickly, Denise reached under her skirt to pull down her panties. At this point she realized that she had peed and was mortified to let this brutal stranger know it. But she knew she had no choice. Since the man wouldn’t let her bend over, Denise had to raise one leg at a time, hopping on one foot as she struggled to get the panties over her sandals. When she had finally freed them, she went to toss the offensive garment aside.

  “No!” Turk hissed. “Put them in your mouth!”

  Denise cringed at the command. She could already smell the pungent odor of her own waste, she could feel the panties’ wetness. Could he really mean that she should put them in her mouth?

  The clenching fist around her throat drew tighter. She could feel the pressure on her windpipe. She saw stars as the pain exploded in her head. Without further delay, she stuffed the offensive garment in her mouth, tears now streaming down her face. She was now incapable of muffled speech, let alone a cry for help that could be heard outside of this room. She was defeated even before she had begun to fight.

  Turk wasted no time. “Get down on your knees,” he commanded. Denise obeyed, her downward movement tracked by the hand around her tender neck. Once on her knees, the Turk pushed her forward so that she was lying on her stomach. He moved on top of her, sitting on her thighs, as he pulled his belt free. Putting the knife away, he wrapped Denise’s wrists in the belt, tying it off securely.

  Now that he had her secured and silenced, the Turk stopped to think. “I must be out of my mind,” he thought to himself. He was committed to either killing or kidnapping the girl. Either way, if the police were not suspicious now, they soon would be. If he killed her, the only evidence would be anything he had touched or left behind. He could take care of that. If he was going to kill her, now was the time to act. He had only just stepped in the door. He hadn’t touched anything. There would be no physical evidence of him ever being here. The only witness would be the young mother in the elevator, and she had hardly looked at him.

  On the other hand, if he kidnapped her, he would have to either sneak her out to his van somehow or he would have to go get the van and his equipment. That would mean leaving her here alone for at least twenty minutes, probably more. He couldn’t take a cab to his van on the chance that a cabbie might remember him. Shit!

  Denise’s mind was racing too. She had put it together already. This man, who had accosted and bound her, knew where Cheryl was. Either he was the person who had kidnapped her or he was associated with those who had. Why? Why Cheryl? And why her now? She was no closer to figuring out who had taken Cheryl than the police. And what was this guy going to do with her now that he had her? She remembered the knife and his vicious face. He was going to kill her!

  Denise panicked. She began to squirm and tried to get up to her knees. She had no idea what she would do, but she didn’t want to die without a fight. Turk was stirred from his reverie by her movements. He put short shrift to her efforts by grabbing her arm, pulling her to her feet and slapping her hard, twice across the face.

  The slender girl was stunned by the blows. She stared at her assailant in terror. Turk remembered that look. It was Cheryl all over again. This time, he would give her something to be terrified about.

  Turk grabbed Denise by her hair and dragged her towards the bedroom. Once there, he slapped her twice again, each blow landing with a loud “crack!” Denise was frightened beyond her wits. This man had suddenly become a terror. She realized that she was about to be raped.

  Denise began to cry and tried to beg the man, through her stuffed mouth, to spare her. Her desperate words emerged only as muffled sounds. The Turk grabbed the bodice of the pretty yellow dress that Cheryl had worn and ripped it wide open. Denise’s breasts, encased in a dainty white bra, were exposed. Turk pulled out his knife. Denise’s eyes widened with fear. But the Turk was intent only on removing the rest of Denise’s garments.

  With the knife, Turk cut through the straps holding the rest of the dress on Denise’s body. He pulled it down and it fell to the floor. Denise was now naked, but for her bra and sandals. Her arms pinioned behind her back thrust her chest forwards making her already ample bosom more prominent. The Turk expertly cut the straps of Denise’s bra and then sliced it open between her breasts. The bra fell away revealing Denise’s tits in all their splendor.

  Denise compliantly permitted the Turk to undress her. She didn’t want to be raped, but she didn’t want to be killed or beaten either. Her nipples were stiff with fear and her skin tingled as if electrified. No moment in her entire life ever seemed so real as this one. She was never so conscious of her body or her nakedness. She was trying desperately not to cry, but the tears were streaming down her face.

  Turk took in the piteous figure of the girl before him. His cock was hard and ready. All he could see was Cheryl and all he could feel was anger at the torment that her memory gave him. By raping this woman who so closely resembled her, he would be casting out a demon, shattering an illusion.

  He pushed Denise backwards, causing her to fall onto the bed. It was the same bedspread that Cheryl had lain on. He could almost imagine her lying there. Quickly, Turk shed himself of his clothes. Denise cringed when she saw his rigid manhood, large and engorged. Turk knelt on the bed and crept over to the trembling girl. After removing her sandals, he placed his hand on her breast and squeezed, at first h
ard, so that the pain would register immediately to the naked young woman. Slowly, his grasp eased, he cupped it gently. To him, it was Cheryl’s breast. When he looked up, it was Cheryl’s eyes he saw. Suddenly the urge to brutalize this woman escaped him. He wanted her all right. He would fuck her. But it would be Cheryl he would be making love to.

  Denise was startled by the man’s sudden tender touch. She felt his warm lips on her breast and moaned when he took the nipple in his mouth, sucking at it softly, almost lovingly. This, she was not prepared for. She didn’t want to experience pleasure. But as Turk shifted his attentions from the right breast to the left, she felt her loins warming, filling with the blood of passion.

  Turk’s hand drifted slowly across Denise’s stomach and pressed open her thighs. At first, she resisted, but a firm hand on the back of her head, drawing her hair together forcefully, brought back to her the fact that her consent to this sexual assault was not required. She spread her legs and Turk claimed the now damp crevasse between them. His fingers teased her clit, stiffening it, causing her cunt to melt and soften. He easily thrust his fingers into her sex and she moaned with pleasure. “No, no, no,” she thought. “This could not be happening!” She could feel the strength of the Turk’s body as he pressed his legs against hers. She felt his cock pressing at the gate of her sex. She felt its warmth and bulk as it slid inside her.

  The Turk was mad with passion. Pressing his cock all the way home, he sighed deeply. She was his at last. He began to pump rapidly at her sex, slamming his stomach against hers at the terminus of each thrust. Denise’s hips urged him on as she emitted a cry each time she felt herself penetrated to her depths. As the Turk began to call out his passion, moaning and groaning with fiery lust, he came, splashing a flood of his juices deep within her. Denise felt the explosion of the Turk’s cock and the spreading warmth of his discharge. Her orgasm came at once, with wave after wave of pleasure flowing over her.

  Turk collapsed onto Denise’s body, his forces spent. Denise’s head was fogged with the aftermath of her orgasm. The two lay there, silent, like lovers, as they each caught their breath.

  Slowly, the realization of what just happened came over the Turk. He had to have this girl. He would risk anything to have her. He would have her!

  Denise came back to reality as well. The reality was that this man had just raped her. He had abused her, tied her, stripped her and forced himself on her. She was in as much danger now as she had been before, orgasm or not. She turned her head and started to cry.

  Turk sensed the girl’s fear. He would use it. He grabbed her cheeks and turned her face towards his. “You are to do exactly as I say,” he told her. “If you try to struggle, cry out, or escape, I will hurt you very badly. Do you understand?”

  Denise nodded. He raised himself off of the bed, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up. He led her back into the living room. “Lie down on the floor, on your stomach,” he told her.

  The still frightened woman did what she was told. The Turk looked around and found Denise’s purse lying on the floor near the door. He retrieved it and opened it. Her driver’s license was on top of a series of plastic holders inside her wallet. He saw her name, Denise Purnell. He saw that she lived in LA. Flipping the license he saw a picture of Denise and Cheryl sitting together on a rock in some park, laughing at the camera, their arms over each other’s shoulders. They could be twins.

  Now Turk’s survival instincts came into play. It was about eleven o’clock. It would be many hours before it got dark. Even then, the streets would be full of people for another six or seven hours. His van was about ten blocks away. He needed something to secure the woman more reliably than a twisted up belt. Looking at the window, he saw the blinds. He would close them and use the cords. No need for subterfuge this time. As soon as Denise was reported missing, the cops would be all over this place like flies on shit.

  Turk walked over to the windows, closed the blinds and then cut the cords with his switchblade. He returned to where the girl lay obediently on the floor. Cutting one length of cord, he draped Denise’s right ankle over her left and tied them securely together. He then released her arms from the belt and tied off the wrists with the cord. He thought of the soiled panties in her mouth. He didn’t want her to choke on them. He went over to the pantry closet in the small kitchen and rummaged through it. At the bottom in a small box with some elementary tools, he found what he was looking for: the kidnapper’s friend, duct tape.

  He returned to the girl and rolled her to her back. “Open your mouth,” he told her. She widened her lips and he pulled the offensive garment from her mouth.

  “Now, shut you mouth tight,” he instructed her. Denise complied sullenly. She watched as he tore a long length of duct tape free from the roll. He fastened it over her mouth tightly.

  Turk relaxed a bit, now that the girl was secured. He had at least twelve hours to kill. He was still naked, and he returned to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes. He was just about to put on his shorts when he heard a thumping sound coming from the living room. By the time he reached the bedroom door, three loud “booms” had echoed through the apartment. When he entered the living room he saw that Denise had somehow shimmied herself to the door and was banging her feet on it. She had time for one more loud “boom!” before he crossed the room, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her across the floor.

  He turned Denise onto her stomach and planted his foot firmly on her back, pinning her to the floor. He listened quietly for any sign that someone had heard Denise’s frantic signal for help. Twenty seconds went by and no one came to the door. He looked down at the trembling girl. He was enraged. With a mighty swing of his right hand, he punched Denise in her right thigh. She groaned in pain. Turning around, he gave a equally forceful blow to Denise’s left. Again she moaned, this time louder.

  Turk pulled the girl half up by the hair. He hissed into her face “Didn’t I tell you I would hurt you? Didn’t I warn you? Well now I’m going to do it.”

  Denise was whining in desperate fear as Turk dragged her back into the bedroom. Her scalp ached as the weight of her body was pulled into the room. Turk lifted her up and threw her on the bed. He looked quickly around the room for an implement with which to belay the girl. Looking in the closet, he spied a wire hanger. He reached in and then cowered over the tearful prisoner. “I am going to whip you,” he snarled at her. “And it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

  Denise watched with horror as Turk untangled the hanger and straightened it out. Panicking, she tried to crawl away. Her hands were still tied behind her, her ankles tied together, and she made no progress other than to turn over to her stomach. The Turk moved forward and grabbed her by the back of the neck with one hand. He took a deep breath. It was better to be calm when administering punishment.

  After regaining his equilibrium, Turk raised the wire high and struck Denise clear across her thighs. An immediate red welt rose where the hanger had landed. Denise stiffened and screamed in pain. Her voice was muffled by the tape over her mouth and what emerged was considerably less loud than she would have liked. “Whoosh, crack!” the wire struck her again across the thighs. The girl screamed again in agony. Turk wanted to whip her across her ass, but her tied hands covered the upper portion. Releasing her neck, he pulled Denise’s hands up. He quickly gave her three strokes across her tender white cheeks.

  All of this violence had given him another hard on. Denise’s ass squirmed provocatively as she twisted and turned, convulsed with pain. He rubbed his hand across her firm haunches. It was a fine, tight ass, made to be used. Tossing the whip aside, Turk straddled the girl. Her legs were tied together and so her rear opening would be tight and hard. Because her ankles were crossed, the Turk was able to push apart her thighs enough so that the rosette of her anus was exposed. He did not lubricate himself; he wanted to tear this girl’s flesh, to make her scream in pain. He wanted to hear her crying and begging for relief as he came.

  Turk pressed the head of his cock at the tiny entrance. He pulled the sobbin
g girl up by the hips so that her rear was angled better for his penetration.

  Denise had hardly noticed her legs being pushed apart and only too late registered the pressure on the entrance to her bowels. When she realized that the Turk was going to fuck her in the ass, she tried to pull away. She wanted to beg him not to do it, but no words could escape her mouth. Besides, there were no words that could have dissuaded the Turk from possessing this dainty, narrow hole.

  He pressed hard, forcing the tender lips of Denise’s anus to expand. Denise could feel burning pain as the tissue was stretched and torn. She rocked and jerked her body, trying to expel the invader of her flesh. Her hands behind her tried to grab at the skin and flesh of the Turk. This Turk dissuaded by two neat chops to her upper arms, which temporarily paralyzed Denise’s arm muscles. Her arms went limp as this new pain registered in her brain.

  Denise had never suffered anything like this before in her life. Her fantasies of rape were not like this at all. And she had never had a desire to experiment with anal sex, as the prospect of a penis entering her behind revolted her. Being on her knees, being entered from behind revolted her. Being powerless and without control over her own body revolted her.

  Turk paused briefly, the head of his cock having penetrated just past the now sore and swollen ring of flesh. He wanted her to feel this all at once. Denise paused too. Was he going to relent? Would he take pity on her? She waited in agonized anticipation of the Turk’s next move.

  That was just what the Turk was waiting for. He rammed his cock home all the way into Denise’s ass. She screamed again as the pain tore through her. The Turk pumped mightily, slamming his thighs against the sobbing woman’s red striped globes. As he came he roared, pulling her hips back, pumping his hot seed deep into her.

 

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