Kidnapped Debutante in Bondage Hell Read online

  “Oh, god!” Barry said, his body tense as a bowstring against her. With a gasp he released his spunk inside her. Tiffany could feel the jizz deep within, and silently prayed that the man didn't have AIDS or something worse.

  Barry pulled out of her and sat back, panting.

  “Whew,” he said, “what a great ass fuck! Well, no more time to screw around—pun intended. Time to get you to your new home.”

  Barry exited the rear of the limo. She heard his footsteps echo on concrete before the driver side door opened and he slipped inside. With one last smirk at her helpless plight, he flipped the switch on the privacy screen and they were cut off from each other.

  Tiffany immediately struggled again, her rape adding new fervor. She soon realized that she would never be able to free her hands. Her feet were another matter, however.

  By dragging her heels along the carpet, she managed to take them off. It was a frustrating process, but soon she was barefoot. There was a pool of her ass juice and Barry's jizz on the floor, and she steeled herself against the revolting sensation and rubbed her feet in it.

  Slowly, painfully, she managed to drag the spreader bar cuffs off of her left leg. For whatever reason, however, the right cuff was on tighter. Figuring it was good enough, she pawed at the door handle with her feet. Barry said it didn't open from the inside, but he'd gotten out somehow. With a tiny cry of muffled triumph, she found a hidden button and the door unlatched.

  Tiffany didn't wait. She forced the door open with her shoulder and stumbled into the night air. Her head whipped around as Barry started the car. She was in the shadow of a bridge; she had no idea which one. The landscape was a wasteland of burned out buildings and abandoned, rusting vehicles. On bare feet, dragging the spreader bar behind her, she made her awkward way into the shadows as Barry pulled away.

  Luck was with her, as Barry didn't seem to notice she'd escaped. The tail lights of the limo faded in the distance as Tiffany sighed in relief.

  Then sweat broke out on her body. She wasn't out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. She stood on the street, her shirt open and bra ripped asunder, skirt pulled up around her waist and no panties. And, she was bound and gagged, just waiting for the next predator—and New York was FULL of those, grandpa said so.

  She heard voices coming up the street, and considered her options. Not knowing what else to do, she hid behind a burned out dumpster and shivered with more than cold as a group of men approached from down the street.

  Chapter 2

  Tiffany pressed her cheek against the cool metal of the dumpster and took in the approaching men. They were boys, really, roughly her own age, and speaking what she thought was Spanish.

  That was not good. Everyone knew that minorities were all sex-crazed fiends who wanted nothing more than to rape white women. She knew right away they would never help her. Tiffany hunkered down low until they passed; then slowly rose to her feet.

  Approaching headlights made her dive back into her cover. She heard the brakes squeal, and then Barry's voice carried out into the night.

  “Evening gentlemen,” he said casually, though there was a note of panic in his voice. “Have you seen a pretty blonde girl around here?”

  The boys laughed and said something back in Spanish. Tiffany dared to peek from around the dumpster and saw them throwing gang signs at Barry.

  “What's it worth to you, essay?” One of the bolder ones asked.

  “Here,” Barry said, throwing a wad of cash on the street. “There's more where that came from if you can find her. I have a feeling she didn't get very far.”

  One of the boys scooped the money up and then the whole throng ran off laughing as Barry cursed.

  Tiffany ran, dragging the bar behind her and creating a horrendous racket. She ducked under what was left of a chain link fence and ran through an abandoned lot.

  She found herself standing in the shadow of a statue of the virgin Mary, and prayed that she might find safety. With a start, she realized she could hear someone singing nearby.

  Slowly, trying desperately not to make too much noise, she crept around the statue and stared at a young nun kneeling before an outdoor shrine. Tiffany couldn't see her face, but screamed out behind her gag and ran toward the woman.

  “What in the world?” asked the nun as she took in the sight of a half-naked, bound and gagged Tiffany Williams. “Oh my...what happened to you?”

  Tiffany grunted, her eyes narrowing.

  Obviously I can't talk right now, you stupid catholic bitch!

  “Here,” the nun said, moving toward Tiffany and trying to remove the gag. “What's up with this? Oh my lord...it's padlocked on! All of it is! Who would do this to a person?”

  The nun gave up trying to remove the gag, which was only hurting Tiffany's neck anyway, and pulled her skirt down. She also adjusted Tiffany's shirt to preserve as much of her modesty as she could.

  “Come on,” she said, putting a companionable hand on Tiff's shoulder. “There should be something in the maintenance man's shed that can take these off.”

  Tiffany sobbed in relief as the nun led her to a small shack on the lee side of the dilapidated building—which she realized was a church. The nun rummaged around inside and returned with a pair of bolt cutters. It was hard, but the slight woman managed to clip the padlocks off and finally free Tiffany.

  “Oh my god, thank you,” Tiffany said as soon as the gag was out of her mouth. She took her first good look at the nun, and was shocked to find the woman of the cloth was roughly her own age. The nun was pretty, with wide brown eyes and soft mocha skin. A bit of jet black hair stuck out of her habit, and Tiff had no doubt that in the right clothes the nun would be a knockout.

  “No need to thank me,” the nun said. “Come, let's get you inside and cleaned up. We can call the police, too...assuming you want me to.”

  “Why wouldn't I want you to?” Tiffany snapped. “Are you fucking stu—that is, thank you. Yes, I would like to call the police.”

  On the way inside, Tiffany told the story of her abduction, leaving out her ass rape. It all seemed so surreal, but she was free now, she had escaped. Maybe she shouldn't have put nickels in the collection plates all those years…

  The nun's name turned out to be Roberta Dacosta, and she had immigrated to New York from Venezuela when she was nine. Roberta lived in a modest apartment in the church, and revealed that she was the only one present.

  “Everyone else left when the building got condemned,” she said “but I couldn't abandon the people in this neighborhood.”

  “Why not?” Tiffany asked as she wrapped herself in a bathrobe. “I mean, they seem like a bunch of creepy cholos to me.”

  “They may be a bit rough around the edges,” Roberta said, flashing a pretty smile “but they are good people on the inside. You just have to know where to look.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Tiffany said with a sigh. “Can you call the cops now?”

  “Certainly,” said Roberta. She latched the door lock and settled down on a threadbare couch with her cell phone. “I don't seem to have any bars. I'll go to the second floor and try it. You can help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen.”

  “Do you have a shower?” Tiffany asked, feeling Barry's jizz running down her thighs. “I really need to shower.”

  “Oh, Tiffany,” Roberta said, hissing through clenched teeth. “I don't think that's a good idea. The police will want evidence—”

  “I'm taking a damn shower!” Tiffany snapped. “God, I thought you spoke English! Just get your burrito-munching butt upstairs and make the damn call.”

  Roberta's mouth opened; then closed. Finally she nodded and pointed toward a door adjacent to her kitchenette.

  “The shower is through there. I'll be back soon, I promise.”

  “Great.” Tiffany said. She charged toward the shower, stripping off her clothes as she went.

  The hot water felt great on her skin, even though the tiles were cracked and faded. It was over now. S
he'd gotten away. She was safe.

  Tiffany finished rinsing off and threw a towel around her body. She couldn't bear to put her clothes back on, not after what had happened to her while wearing them.

  “Hey, Roberta,” she called out to the empty room. “Did you make the call yet?”

  Silence was her only answer. Cursing, Tiffany unlatched the door and peeked out into the hallway.

  “Roberta?” she asked. A sound echoed down the hallway that may have been a voice.

  “What?” she asked, creeping out into the hall. “Hang on, I'm coming.”

  Tiffany padded down the cold tiles in bare feet, clutching the towel with one hand. She heard the sound again and swung open a door at the end of the hall.

  “What the fuck?” she said incredulously.

  Before her sat Roberta, shiny silver duct tape wrapped around her head. The latina's pretty dark eyes pleaded above the gag, and she jerked her arms around from behind her to show that they had been wrapped in tape as well. Her ankles were crossed and nearly mummified in the stuff.

  “Oh shit,” Tiffany said, and turned to flee. There was only one explanation, and she wasn't going to wait for Barry to catch her, too.

  That was when she ran right into his chest. Barry jabbed something hard into her belly , and Tiffany cried out in alarm as her whole body was jolted into paralysis. She slumped to the floor, jerking spasmodically as Barry tased her again.

  “Stupid bitch!” he said, shocking her with another round of electricity. “Going to make me lose my fucking job! Take this you cunt!”

  Finally he stopped shocking her. Tiffany tried to move but found her limbs were useless and rubbery. She couldn't even speak as Barry whipped the towel off of her body and knelt across her back. He jerked her hands behind her, and soon cocooned them tightly in duct tape.

  Barry snatched a filthy rag from off of the floor and jammed it into Tiffany's mouth. He wrapped tape around her head, and she feared that he would keep going and wrap up her face until she couldn't breathe. Thankfully, he left her nose uncovered, though she hardly felt grateful to him for it.

  “Gimmie those feet,” he said, binding her legs together with tape. “Dumb fucking cunt. Cost me my bonus, you did. Fucking brat.”

  He rolled her roughly onto her back and slapped her soundly across the face. No one had ever slapped Tiffany, and it was somehow even more insulting than violating her body had been. He added two more slaps for good measure until her cheeks stung as bad as her ass.

  “And as for you,” he said, standing up and looming over Roberta “you tried to take her away from me. Well, now you're gonna get just what little miss Tiffany got.”

  Tiffany squirmed, struggling against the tape binding her naked body, but could only watch helplessly as Barry ripped the black cloth concealing Roberta's body from view asunder. Large breasts with puffy brown nipples were exposed, as well as a very hairy bush between sweetly curved hips.

  “Man, you are smoking!” Barry said. Pinching Roberta's nipples. The nun squeezed her eyes shut but didn't make much noise. “Are you praying, sister? I don't think god can hear you anymore.”

  He looked at her cunt with disgust.

  “Haven't you ever heard of a razor? Christ, your damn legs are hairy too. Well, we'll take care of that, don't you worry.”

  Barry reached inside of his jacket and withdrew what looked like a silver cigarette case. He snapped it open and withdrew a pair of syringes.

  “Time for both of you to go night night,” he said grimly. He knelt down next to Tiffany and rolled her over onto her stomach. She was sick of him manhandling her, but could do nothing as he put a knee across her back. Tiffany felt a sharp pinch in her buttocks, then warmth as he injected her with whatever was inside the syringe.

  Tiffany struggled to get to her feet, to squirm away from the awful man as he repeated the process on Roberta. The nun locked gazes with Tiffany. Both of them knew they were in trouble.

  And not even god could save them.

  Chapter 3

  Tiffany gasped as the cold water splashed over her head. Sputtering, she lifted her head enough to take in her new environs.

  She was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, wrists bound to it by plastic zip ties. Completely naked, her skin reddened in shame when she realized there were half a dozen men staring surrounding her.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, flinging her we hair out of her eyes with a defiant toss of her head. “Where am I?”

  “We're the men who are going to rape you,” said Barry from nearby. He gestured at the other men, all of them dressed in impeccably fashionable suits that belied the spartan nature of the room they were in. There were no windows, and the only other piece of furniture in the room was occupied by Roberta. The nun was still asleep, head lolled to the side and drool running out of her mouth and pooling on her breasts and thighs.

  Tiff struggled against the zip ties, but only succeeded in cutting herself. Blood flowed from cuts on her wrists and ankles, but she was no closer to escape.

  “You were right, Barry,” said one of the men, a fat little toad with black hair and Asiatic features. “She's a fighter!”

  “Look,” Tiffany said, struggling to keep her voice even. “My family has money...a LOT of money. If you ransom me back to them, you'll live the rest of your lives like kings. I promise we won't go to the police.”

  “Okay,” said one of the men, a tall skinny fellow with a slight Irish accent. “Let's cut her loose, boys, and call her parents right away.”

  The derisive laughter that greeted the Irish man's statement made Tiffany grind her teeth.

  “Oh, come on,” Tiffany said. “Why me? Why not take the money and pick someone else to gang rape? What's so special about me?”

  Barry walked up to her side and she cringed. She shuddered when he reached out, but all he did was caress her cheek.

  “It's like this, sweetie,” he said, almost kindly. “You've been bought and paid for. Someone with money—a LOT of money”

  The men laughed at his mockery of Tiffany.

  “—has decided to claim you as his own. Probably some poor dude you treated like shit, not that that narrows it down much!”

  Tiffany spit in his eye. Barry cursed while the other men engaged in raucous laughter.

  “I like this one,” said the fat Asian. “She has spunk!”

  Barry snarled and reached back to strike Tiffany, but a new voice interrupted him.

  “Easy now,” said a man with a smooth voice. “No permanent marks.”

  He stepped into the light of the one naked bulb, and Tiffany was taken aback at how handsome he was. Slick graying hair graced his crown, hovering over a face that was still attractive despite some lines and wrinkles. His suit was a cut above the other men's, a sleek gray Armani.

  “I'm gonna throttle this bitch,” Barry said.

  “No,” the gray haired man said. “You will not. She will be sent to the Palace for re-education, and then placed with her new owner.”

  “Re-education?” Tiffany said in exasperation. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  The gray haired man grinned, and caressed her hair with a stout finger.

  “Quite simply,” he said “we are going to break you down until you are nothing, and then build you back up into something useful. A sex slave who lives only to please her master.”

  “Bullshit,” Tiffany said, squirming against her bonds. “Do you know who I am? I'll NEVER be a sex slave, and you'll never break me!”

  “We'll see,” said the gray haired man. He patted her cheek, which was quite humiliating. It was as if she were a small child and the whole conversation was over her head.

  Roberta moaned, and the man turned his attention to her.

  “This was quite a catch, Barry,” he said, walking to stand before the nun. Roberta stared at him fearfully but didn't speak. “Looks like life gave you lemons, and you made lemonade.”

  “She doesn't have a buyer,” the Asian man s
aid. “We didn't plan on this abduction. Where are we going to find another corpse?”

  “What do you mean, another corpse?” Tiffany asked, outraged, but the men ignored her.

  “We don't need one,” said Gray hair. “Look at this neighborhood. People go missing around here all the time.”

  “Hey,” said the Irish man, nudging one of the men who had not spoken “do you think the nun's a virgin?”

  “Yuck, I hope not!” the man replied. “All the bleeding and crying gets old.”

  “Yeah, but being the first one inside a pussy...” the Asian man sighed. “No one can take that away from you, not ever.”

  “And she won't know that your little dick isn't the norm, Aki,” said Barry, and all the men laughed.

  “Speaking of my little dick,” Aki said, grabbing his crotch “I want to fuck the nun first. It's my turn!”

  “No way,” said the Irish man. “It's totally my turn! YOU fucked that ballet dancer last week in Borneo!”

  “That wasn't me, that was Sid!”

  Aki pointed to the man his Irish companion had elbowed. The apparent Sid shrugged.

  “I don't care if I go first or not,” Sid said.

  “That's because you tend to get too rough with your toys,” said Aki with a sneer.

  “Hey, assholes!” Tiffany shouted. She swallowed hard as every pair of eyes focused on her, but she forged onward. “You're all a bunch of pussies, drugging me and tying me up. If I was awake you'd never be able to do that!”

  Gray hair grinned and turned to his companions.

  “Well, I think we've been challenged, gentlemen,” he said smoothly. Tiffany flinched as he withdrew a switchblade and snapped the blade open, but all he did was cut the plastic restraints on her wrists and ankles.

  “This is a trick,” she said, rubbing the raw, red spots on her wrists.

  “No trick,” said Gray Hair. He pointed at Aki and stepped back. “The only thing between you and freedom is that fat little fuck there.”