by Ray Gordon
Samantha gasped and held her hand to her chest as she found herself standing in what appeared to be a derelict warehouse or old barn. Her new talent was all very well, she reflected, looking around at rusted farm machinery and bales of straw. But she had no real control. She could have been anywhere at any time, she thought, wondering why she'd travelled to the barn. There was a reason for everything. Wasn't there?
'And who might you be?' a young man asked as he approached.
'Oh, er... hi,' Samantha said, wondering why he was wearing a suit. He obviously wasn't a farm worker, she decided as she wondered how to explain her presence. 'I was out for a walk,' she began.
'Out for a walk?' he said, frowning. 'You're miles from anywhere.'
'Yes, I know. I... I got lost.'
'You'd better come with me,' he said, taking her hand. 'I'm driving into town in about ten minutes so I'll drop you off.'
'Which town is that?'
'There is only one town near here,' he said softly, leading her across the barn to a side door. 'And this is it,' he laughed, opening the door and pushing her into a small room.
Picking herself up, Samantha looked around the room and noticed a teenage girl sitting in the corner. The door closing, the sound of a heavy bolt sliding across, she knew that she'd landed herself in trouble as she looked up and noticed iron bars criss-crossing a small window. Huddling in the corner on the floor, the girl said nothing as Samantha asked her who she was and what she was doing locked in the small room.
The girl was extremely attractive with her blonde hair in a bob framing her angelic face. Dressed in a short skirt and T-shirt, she appeared to be clean, indicating that she might not have been held captive for very long. Samantha eyed the little beauty's panties as she sat with her chin resting on her knees. The red material bulging with her puffy sex lips, concealing her undoubtedly creamy-wet sex crack, she looked exceptionally sexy. Wondering why her time travelling only seemed to lead her to debased sex as she thought longingly of breathing in the scent of the girl's moist panties, Samantha asked her how long she'd been there.
'I know your tricks,' the girl retorted angrily.
'Tricks?' Samantha echoed, somewhat puzzled. 'What do you mean?'
'I won't tell you anything about my father, so don't bother asking.'
'Your father? I wasn't going to ask you anything about... What are you doing here? Why has that man locked you up?'
'You know why. I just hope that my father doesn't pay up. Then you'll have to kill me and...'
'Kill you?' Samantha breathed. 'You've been kidnapped and he wants money from your father?'
'Don't play innocent with me. You know damn well that I've been kidnapped.'
'Look, I know nothing about this. I'm not working with that evil man. Whatever you might think, I... What's your name?'
'Anne.'
'OK, Anne, I'm going to help you.'
'Yeah, right.'
Rising to her feet, Samantha knew that it would be easy enough to return to her own time and get help. But she had to discover the exact location of the barn, and the time and date. She didn't recall any news of a kidnapping, and began to wonder just how far back in time she'd travelled. Hearing movements outside the door, she looked at the girl, noticing the fear apparent in her expression.
'Oh dear,' a middle-aged man murmured as he opened the door and stared hard at Samantha. 'We have an intruder.'
'I found her lurking in the barn,' the younger man said, hovering just outside the doorway.
'This rather complicates matters, I'm afraid. What's your name?'
'What's going on here?' Samantha asked.
'That's what I'd like to know. You're not bad-looking. I'll tell you what we'll do. You strip off and—'
'And you can go to hell,' Samantha said angrily.
'I'm sure I will, when my time comes,' the middle-aged man laughed. 'You have a choice, young lady. You either strip naked or—'
'Never.'
'In that case, sweet little Anne will have to oblige. Come with me, girl.'
'Leave her alone,' Samantha snapped.
'The choice is yours,' he chuckled. 'Either you strip off, or we take the girl outside and...'
'All right,' Samantha finally conceded, knowing that she had to play for time in order to discover the location of the barn.
'No, no,' the man said as she moved towards the door. 'I want you to strip in here.'
'What? In front of—'
'Yes, in front of Little Miss Innocent.'
Unbuttoning her blouse, Samantha slipped the garment over her shoulders as the girl watched with wide eyes. Still sure that she could save herself by flitting back to her own time, Samantha unhooked her bra and allowed the silk cups to fall away from the firm mounds of her breasts. Her nipples rising in the relatively cool air of the old building, the chocolate-brown discs of her areolae darkening, she tugged her skirt down her slender legs and kicked it aside, along with her shoes. The teenager watched with bated breath as Samantha slipped her thumbs between the tight elastic of her panties and her shapely hips. Perhaps she'd never seen a naked woman before, Samantha mused, again imagining breathing in the heady girl-scent of the girl's moist panties. Was she a virgin?
Tugging her panties down her long legs, the hairless flesh of her vulval lips coming into view, Samantha watched the man's eyes widen as he focused on the creamy-wet slit of her vagina. She knew what he wanted as she felt her clitoris swell in expectation of crude sex. And he could have it as long as he left the girl alone, she decided. Standing with her feet apart, her naked body shamelessly displayed to her captor, she knew that the girl was going to be stripped and used for illicit sex.
'Not bad,' the middle-aged man murmured, his obvious arousal bulging his trousers. 'Not bad at all.'
'I'm glad you like it,' Samantha breathed, running her hands over the spheres of her breasts. 'Why don't we go somewhere private and...'
'Who needs privacy?' the younger man chuckled, leaning in the doorway. 'We don't want privacy. We want the little tart on the floor there to see exactly what she's going to get.'
'Let's get the little tart to lick the big tart,' the middle-aged man chortled.
'What a good idea. Go on, little tart. Lick the big tart's cunt out.'
'No,' Samantha snapped. 'Do what you want with me, but leave the girl alone.'
'Do it,' the younger man snapped, grabbing the girl's arm and dragging her across the room. 'Do it, or I'll lick your dirty little cunt out.'
Watching the girl kneel in front of her, Samantha closed her eyes as she felt the teenager's wet tongue running up and down her vaginal crack. Wrong though it was, she realized that she was deriving immense pleasure from the enforced lesbian act. Her juices of arousal seeping from her tight sex hole, trickling between her engorged inner lips, she let out a sigh of satisfaction as the girl's tongue swept over the swelling protrusion of her sensitive clitoris. The pouting lips of her vulva parted by the girl's fingers, she breathed deeply as she felt Anne's tongue slide into the sex-wet hole of her contracting vagina.
'A photograph,' the middle-aged man said. 'The girl's father has one of her tied up and gagged. How about a shot of his girl licking out a tart's wet cunt?'
'Perfect,' the younger man agreed. 'I'll get the camera.'
'Perhaps a few shots of my cock fucking her pretty little mouth might persuade him to come up with the money?'
'Or both our cocks fucking her pretty little mouth?'
'Even better.'
The crude words battering Samantha's racked mind, she knew that she had to do something before the girl was crudely stripped of her virginity by the evil pair. Not wanting to simply disappear into thin air, she wondered how to get rid of the men for a few minutes to enable her to make her escape. The younger man leaving the room to get the camera, she smiled at his accomplice and suggested that he close the door and strip off.
'We don't need your friend,' she said, licking her succulent lips provocatively. 'I'm su
re you have more than enough to satisfy both of us.'
Grinning, he turned and was about to lock the door when he spun round on his heels. 'Oh no,' he said, shaking his head. 'No tricks, young lady.'
'Tricks?' Samantha echoed surprisedly. 'I thought that you might enjoy... Obviously not. It's strange to think how wrong I was.'
'Wrong?'
'I thought that you were a real man. Oh well, never mind. Perhaps I should be going after your friend. I'll bet his is a lot bigger than yours.'
'I know your game. And it won't work.'
'What game's that?' the younger man asked as he entered the room, clutching a camera.
'She was trying to... It doesn't matter. OK, take a few shots of the girl licking out her wet cunt.'
'My pleasure.'
Listening to the camera shutter clicking as Anne's tongue snaked deep inside her tightening vagina, Samantha tried to deny her soaring libido. Wondering again about her obvious leaning towards lesbianism, she wondered whether she should let go and appease her inner desires. Did it matter whether she was deriving pleasure from a male or a female tongue? She pondered the question, her clitoris painfully solid between her splayed love lips.
Hearing movements in the barn, the two men dashed out of the room to investigate. This was her chance to escape, Samantha knew as she looked down at Anne, clutching the girl's head...
She was about to push her away when she suddenly found herself back in her lounge with the girl still at her feet. Horrified to think that she'd taken the girl back to her own time, she wondered what to say as she stepped back and watched Anne climb to her feet.
'Where are we?' the teenage beauty asked, looking around the room.
'I'll explain later,' Samantha replied.
'But... where are we? I don't like this. God, we must have—'
'It's all right,' Samantha soothed her. 'Anne, what date is it? When were you kidnapped?'
'The date? How did we get here?'
'I'll explain everything later. Just tell me the date.'
'It's September.'
'And the year?'
'Nineteen ninety-four.'
'Ninety-four?' Samantha gasped. 'Christ, that's eight years ago.'
'Eight years ago? What are you talking about?'
'If you're here with me, then... I wonder whether you're still in the barn?'
'You're going to have to tell me what's going on,' the girl sighed, flopping down onto the sofa. 'Eight years ago? Am I still in the barn? Where am I now?'
'In my flat. It's two thousand and two, Anne. Eight years after you were kidnapped.'
'You're mad,' she laughed.
'Far from it.'
'Don't tell me that you're a time traveller,' Anne giggled. 'How did you do it? What's the trick?'
'I'll tell you later,' Samantha breathed pensively. 'What's your surname?'
'Wilkinson.'
'Anne Wilkinson? Yes, I remember reading about the kidnapping in the paper. And it was on the television. Anne, you were never seen again. Everyone assumed that you... Everyone assumed the worst.'
'I really have no idea what you're talking about. All I know is that I was in the barn and now... How did we get here?'
'Shit,' Samantha sighed. 'This wasn't supposed to happen. How the hell am I going to get you back to your own time? And if I do get you back, you'll die.'
'Die?'
'Phone your parents. Tell them that—'
'OK,' the girl said eagerly, grabbing the phone and punching the buttons.
Shaking her head, Samantha slipped into her bedroom and grabbed her dressing gown. Returning to the lounge, she wondered what Anne's parents would think. Their daughter had been missing for eight years. To suddenly get a phone call from the girl would... Listening as Anne said hello to her mother, Samantha sat down beside her.
'It is me, Mum,' Anne said, frowning. 'What do you mean? Of course I'm not a crank. Is Dad there? Mum, this is me. It's Anne...'
'Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea,' Samantha breathed as the girl hung up.
'She didn't believe me. She said that I was a crank and—'
'I'm sorry. I should never have suggested calling your parents.'
'What's going on?' Anne asked, a tear rolling down her cheek.
'I only wish I knew. Look, I really don't know what to do. You'll have to give me time to think. Are you hungry?'
'Yes, I'm starving.'
'Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen. I'm going to take a shower and get dressed.'
'Where are we? I mean, where is the flat?'
'London.'
'I'd better go home.'
'No, Anne. You must stay here.'
'Why?'
'Because... because I have to work this out. You can't just walk into your parents' house after eight years and... Stay here with me until I've worked something out, OK?'
'If you say so. I couldn't get home, anyway. I live in Hampshire and I don't have any money.'
Wandering into the bathroom, Samantha realized that she was up against a serious problem. Taking the girl back to her own time would inevitably lead to her demise, and yet she couldn't stay in the future. Slipping her dressing gown off and stepping into the shower, Samantha wondered again why her time travelling always led her to crude sex. Someone or something was behind her ability to travel through time, she knew as she shampooed her long blonde hair. Perhaps she'd been gifted with time travel in order to achieve something, she mused. Was it to save the girl from her dreadful fate? But if it turned out that she was unable to change history, Samantha was certain that the girl would die.
Chapter 6
'I know that, Dave,' Samantha sighed, pressing the phone to her ear.
'You said you'd keep me posted. I've heard nothing from you... If you weren't such a little beauty I'd sack you. So, what have you discovered about this sex den?'
'Nothing, yet.'
'Nothing? For fuck's sake, Sammy...'
'Dave, do you remember that kidnapping about eight years ago? Anne Wilkinson...'
'I remember it very well. What's that got to do with it?'
'What happened, exactly?'
'The girl was never found.'
'Were the men caught?'
'The kidnapper was never caught. Why did you say, men? No one knew who the kidnapper was.'
'I don't know. I just assumed, I suppose.'
'Why the interest?'
'I heard something about it the other day. I was young at the time and don't recall the details. Were there any clues as to where the girl had been held?'
'No, nothing at all. Extensive searches were carried out for several months. Countryside, towns, villages... Nothing came up.'
'OK, thanks, Dave. I'll be in touch.'
'You'd better be. I miss looking at your nipples pressing through your—'
'Bye, Dave.'
Hanging up, Samantha wandered into her bedroom and gazed at Anne sleeping beneath the quilt. The girl had washed and eaten and had then slept well all through the night. Samantha had been tempted to slip into the bed beside her but had managed to control her rampant lesbian desires and sleep on the sofa. Thinking how angelic Anne looked, Samantha pulled the quilt back, exposing her naked body. Her breasts were small, her ripe nipples standing proud from the dark discs of her areolae. She was extremely attractive, Samantha thought, eyeing the sparse blonde curls barely concealing her tightly closed sex crack as she rolled onto her back and spread her limbs.
Pulling the quilt up, Samantha left the room and closed the door. Trying to push thoughts of lesbian sex to the back of her mind, she flopped down onto the sofa in the lounge and tried to work out what she was going do with the girl. Anne would have been in her twenties by now, she mused. She might have married and had children, but now... This was a bloody mess, she thought. Anne was going to have to take on a new identity, Samantha decided. No one would believe that Anne was the Anne Wilkinson. And no one would have believed that Samantha had been drunk in the ch
urch with the three men. They'd have thought her to be a common tart, if they'd discovered what she'd done on the altar...
'God,' Samantha breathed, looking down at her naked body as she stood by the altar. 'I... I didn't want to come back here. I—'
'I'll bet you want to come off,' a man chuckled, squeezing her breasts.
'No, I...' The alcohol blurring her mind, she clung to the altar to steady her swaying body. 'I don't want to be here.'
'How about a mouth-fucking?' another asked, pulling her head back by her long blonde hair and kissing her full lips.
'Or a bum-fucking?' the third man suggested, cupping the smooth, firm globes of her arse in his hands and squeezing them hard.
As her naked body was lifted onto the altar, Samantha realized the shocking truth about that fateful evening. She'd tried to convince herself that she'd been too drunk to stop the crude abuse of her body. She'd subconsciously persuaded herself to believe that she'd been forced to commit the shameful sexual acts with the three men. In reality, she'd been only too willing to go to the church with the men and allow them to fuck and spunk her wet orifices. The skeletons in her cupboard were escaping, she knew as several fingers drove deep into the wet heat of her pussy.
'Suck it,' a man gasped, his knees either side of her head, the swollen knob of his solid penis hovering above her open mouth. Taking his glans into her wet mouth, Samantha ran her tongue over its silky-smooth surface, sucking hard as another penis slipped into the tight sheath of her cunt. Pondering her age in her alcoholic haze, she wondered why she'd ever done such a thing at sixteen years old. The drink had obviously influenced her, but to allow three men to...
'God, she's nice and tight,' the man fucking her pussy gasped. 'This is a nice change after my wife's slack cunt.'
