The Toy

by Claire Thompson

  The Toy

  By

  Claire Thompson

  A Renaissance E Books publication

  ISBN 1-58873-048-4

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2001 by Claire Thompson

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

  For information contact:

  Renaissance E Books

  P. O. Box 494

  Clemmons, NC 27012-0494

  USA

  Email comments@renebooks.com

  Chapter 1 – The Abduction

  Gina was a nice girl. A little plump – pleasingly plump, her fiancé Dwayne assured her – a little prissy, very proper. Never having gone to college, at 22 Gina lived at home with her parents while awaiting her marriage to Dwayne, whom she had known since kindergarten. They attended the same church and it had never occurred to her to want someone different. Not that she actually wanted Dwayne, whatever that meant, but her parents assured her it was God's will that she marry and have children and take her place in the world at Dwayne's side. That was good enough for her.

  Gina didn't seek adventure, but she did have a wild side. That is what her parents believed, at any rate, and they were probably right, though Gina hadn't yet figured this out about herself. But she did volunteer work on the 'wrong side of the tracks' as her father said, helping those less fortunate than herself, working in a Christian Outreach Center two days a week from 9:00 to 5:00. This was wild behavior in her father's book, but he tolerated it because it was for a higher cause.

  This fall Tuesday she had been delayed at work, as several staff members had been out sick. She didn't get out until 8:00 and it was already dark. Gina pulled her practical woolen coat tighter around herself as the wind whipped the air at her bus stop. She was alone and not certain when the bus would come, this being so much later than she was used to being out. Soon she would be home and mom would make her a nice cup of cocoa and she would read her novel, say her prayers, and go to sleep. Her life was, if a little dull, very predictable, and Gina liked order. All that was about to change.

  "Excuse me, ma'am."

  Gina looked up and saw a disheveled looking woman, too skinny, with something not quite right about the eyes. Drugs, Gina thought, mentally shaking her head in disapproval. But she was a polite girl, and she smiled and nodded toward the young woman.

  "My baby." The woman pointed toward a little car parked on the other side of the road. She didn't elaborate.

  "Pardon?"

  "My baby. She's stuck in the car seat. I can't open it. She's crying like crazy. Would you try?"

  What an odd request! The woman didn't look overly distraught, as Gina would have been if her own child were stuck somewhere. Must be the drugs! And that poor baby stuck! Gina's naturally generous nature gave way to any misgivings and she hurried over with the woman to help the baby.

  They got to the car and the woman opened the back door. Gina leaned in, expecting to hear a squalling infant. Before her eyes had adjusted to the dark interior of the car, she suddenly felt herself pushed into the back seat. She fell forward with a startled squeal as the door slammed shut behind her. The front window rolled down, a hand extending with an envelope which the supposed mother took before fading into the autumn gloom.

  Gina screamed, and a hand clamped itself over her mouth, muffling the sound. The car engine started and the little car drove away with Gina a prisoner inside. She was terrified. As she thrashed and jerked, trying to get herself free, the hands on her tightened, and then someone hit her hard on the back of the head with something heavy. Gina fell back, limp and silent, into his arms.

  ***

  When Gina came to she was in a room. It was totally dark, except for a crack of light showing under what must have been the door. Her first conscious thought was of pain – a dull throb at the back of her head where she had been hit. As she came fully awake she realized she was sitting upright in a chair. Her heart began to beat wildly against her ribs as consciousness rushed back and she realized she had been kidnapped. Kidnapped! Who could possibly want to kidnap her, and why? Trying to lift her hand to brush hair from her face, Gina realized her hands were tied behind the chair. Her legs were tied to the legs of the chair, forcing her to sit in a most unladylike position, the rope holding her at the knee and ankle. Her head was pounding and it took her a moment to take in the most horrible fact of all! She was naked!

  Except for a crisscross of thick rope that covered her body, Gina's pink, plump flesh was exposed to all the world, or at least whomever had kidnapped her. She felt heat suffusing her features, creeping down her chest; she was horrified at the thought of someone seeing her like this. She was never naked, ever, except in the shower. She never looked at herself and certainly didn't allow Dwayne to do so! Not until marriage, she reminded him on those rare occasions when his passion got the best of him and a chaste kiss threatened to go too far.

  But now she was naked, her small, high breasts exposed, the rosy pink nipples jutting between the ropes that cruelly cut into her skin. Her sex was exposed, and try as she might, she couldn't budge to shut her legs. The sheer embarrassment of being naked was so acute it completely took over any fear of being kidnapped or killed.

  She began to cry, little hysterical mews and gulps, as tears welled out of her eyes, overflowing on soft round cheeks. Her cries changed to a startled scream when someone behind her said, "Ah, finally coming out of it, eh? Gordon smacked you a little too hard. I warn him that he doesn't know his own strength. But you should be ok in a day or two. No permanent damage." As he spoke, the man flicked on the overhead lights.

  Gina squinted in the bright fluorescent light, trying to focus. As her vision cleared, she realized she was in a room that was completely empty, and covered in mirrors from floor to ceiling. "Please!" Gina cried. "Please! What are you going to do to me? Why am I here? Please, oh please let me go!" Her voice broke as she sobbed in fear.

  "Relax, sugar. We aren't going to kill you. We don't plan to, that is, as long as you do what you're told. Just relax. You are going to be staying with us for a long time. You can make it real hard on yourself, or you can relax and enjoy it. I think we're going to have us a whole lot of fun, Gina. Just you, me and Gordon. You're our new pet. We got tired of the old one."

  Gina was unable to take in what he was saying. As the man walked around in front of her, Gina squeezed her eyes shut, praying with all her might. But the prayers must have fallen on deaf ears because when she opened her eyes, the man was still standing right in front of her. He was tall and lean, dressed in a white cotton T-shirt and jeans. His thick dark hair was cut short.

  He knelt in front of Gina, his face crinkled in amusement. She screamed, her eyes still squeezed shut, when she felt his hand on her thigh. Slowly the large, rough fingers moved toward her exposed sex. The fingers moved past her pubic curls and down to the bare little pussy below. Her screaming became a high-pitched wail. The man withdrew his hand and slapped her, hard, across the face. Then again, on the other cheek, stunning her into silence.

  "Come on now, sweetheart. Sorry I had to do that, but you're becoming a pain in the ass. If you don't shut your mouth, I'm afraid I'm going to have to tape it shut. We mustn't disturb Gordon. Won't do at all. One more sound out of you, except for answers to direct questions, and I will duct tape your mouth. Do you understand?"

  Terrified, Gina nodded mutely. Her breathing was ragged, and she gasped when he touched her pussy again. When his finger entered her, the largest thing to ever penetrate her virgin sex, she forgot herself and screamed again.

  Feigning disgust, the man slapped her again, so hard her ears were ringing. He left for a moment and came back, the duct tape in hand. Pulling off a large silver rectangle and biting it with
his teeth, he pressed the sticky tape tightly over Gina's mouth, muffling her cries.

  "You want to do things the hard way, Gina, then that's what we'll do. Gordon'll like that. He likes to break the fillies, as he says. He likes the wild ones. They never stay wild, though, Gina. Just remember that. Once Gordon has a go at you, you'll learn to behave, I can promise you that."

  Gina's eyes were round as plates as she stared at the man. He knew her name! As if reading her mind he said, "We have your purse, sweetheart. We have your license. We know where you work, where you live, what your boyfriend looks like. We'll know a whole lot more than that eventually. But right now we have all the time in the world. The fun is just beginning, baby." Blessed darkness claimed Gina, as she fainted dead away.

  ***

  When Gina again regained consciousness, she was no longer tied to the chair. Instead she found herself lying on the floor, handcuffed, with a long, thick chain secured to a rung on the floor. She was still naked, tethered on a thin mattress. Her mouth was still taped shut. Cautiously she sat up, struggling to balance without the use of her hands. The room was harshly lit and all around her she saw her own naked and manacled form. She fell back down on the thin pillow, moaning through the tape. What was going to happen to her?

  As if in answer, Gina heard the click of a lock opening and then the door swung open. It wasn't the same man as before. This must be Gordon. He was smaller than the first man, and much fairer, with sandy blond hair and dark eyes. He looked almost boyish, except for his expression, which was intense. There was no easy smile on his face and his eyes seemed to burn. His mouth was thin-lipped and cruel. Unlike the casual dress of the first man, he was wearing a blazer and dark pants, precisely creased. He didn't say a word to the chained young woman before him.

  Kneeling, he leaned his face to hers. Taking a corner of the tape, with a yank he pulled it from her delicate skin. Gina cried out, her manacled hands touching the reddened flesh around her mouth. Gordon slapped away her fingers. Taking her head in his hands, he kissed her, hard, on the mouth. Gina squealed, trying to pull away. "Don't resist me." His voice was flat, calm, precise. It sounded British. He slapped her, very hard, on one cheek. Her chained hands flew up to her hot cheek as she gasped.

  "This isn't play time with little boyfriend. Forget about your life. It's over." He ignored the sob. "I don't mean you're going to die, stupid; I mean the life you knew is over. You're my toy now. That is all you are. My pet. My slave, my whore. I will teach you to obey. You may come to love it; you may come to hate it. That's of no concern to me. None at all. But I will tell you this." He leaned close again, so that she could feel his hot breath on her face. "Don't you ever pull away, don't you ever try to resist me again, for any reason, or you will pay. Dearly. Am I understood?"

  His voice was cold, and though his lips formed a smile, it didn't make it to his eyes. Gina felt a hot, sharp finger of dread drag through her innards. She felt the swoon of a faint coming over her again. Gordon grabbed her by a fistful of hair and said, "If you faint again, Gina, I'll revive you in a way you'll find most unpleasant. Enough Victorian bullshit. Stand up."

  Gina stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth trembling. But she knew instinctively that there was no room for negotiation. Stumbling a little, the poor naked young woman stood up next to the mattress. Gordon took her chained wrists firmly in one hand and raised her arms high above her head. Before she could react, he had secured the chain to a conveniently placed hook in the ceiling.

  Gina squeezed her eyes shut, moaning in fear. "Nice tits, if you go in for that sort of thing." Playfully, Gordon tweaked one of Gina's nipples. The nipples were small and pale pink against her even paler white skin. From his pocket Gordon produced two wooden clothespins. "A bit small," he said critically, as he twisted one nipple between rough fingers. Gina gasped, but when she pulled back, it only increased the tension on her nipple. She tried to stay still. Gordon released the nipple, which now stood at attention, in contrast to the other nipple. Gordon liked symmetry, and so he pulled and twisted the other nipple until it too stood at dark pink attention.

  "Good. They enlarge nicely when provoked," he said aloud, though he wasn't speaking to the girl. She was simply an object for his present amusement. "Now, I've devised a clever little game. It's called rotation. I use it when I don't want to mark someone, or when I really want to watch them suffer, over and over and over again. Every time that pin is rotated the pain increases significantly. The advantage of this particular torture is that it inflicts severe pain without actually cutting the flesh. Much more effective than clamps, and certainly more cost effective." He smiled cruelly, and while Gina watched, eyes wide in terror, he pushed one clothespin open. Pulling her nipple taut and away from her body, he let the clothespin snap down onto the extended nubbin.

  Gina screamed and jerked away, but the clothespin was tightly coiled and stayed clamped on her nipple, bobbing slightly as she pulled back. "Very nice," Gordon nodded, pleased with the effect. Then he took the second pin and quickly pulled her other nipple, letting the pin snap closed upon it just as he had the first.

  "Stop! Stop, stop, stop! What are you doing to me! Please, God! It hurts! Stop!"

  "It's supposed to hurt. Now shut your mouth, or I'll use that nasty duct tape on it again. Do you want that?"

  Gina shook her head, quieting to a whimper. Her eyes were moist and pleading. Gordon felt his cock stiffen in his pants. He loved that look of helpless terror. He loved knowing he was the cause of it. And now for the real pain. Taking each clip in hand, he squeezed, releasing the grip on Gina's breasts. As the blood flowed back into her now tender nipples, she hissed involuntarily.

  Turning the pins at a new angle, Gordon clamped her flesh again. After about 15 seconds, he released the pins, and again Gina's nerves were stimulated and she felt the pain afresh. Over and over again he clamped and released her poor nipples, till they had gone from pale pink to bright cherry red. Gina was moaning, her head back, eyes closed. Her nipples looked so pretty and erect that Gordon couldn't resist a little bite to each one. Now they glistened with his kiss. His cock was painful in his pants and he adjusted it slightly.

  Gina looked almost asleep now, slack in her bonds. But her heavy breathing gave her away. He would wake her up with his next remark. "Now I'm going to give you your first whipping. At least I assume it's your first?" His laugh was low and cruel. Producing a small riding crop from his jacket, Gordon lightly smacked Gina's pert little breasts, thoughtfully avoiding the distended nipples. Gina begged him to let her down, but her cry fell on deaf, or at least indifferent, ears.

  The sound of the hard leather square of the crop against soft skin made a smacking echo in the mirrored room. Each smack was punctuated by Gina's cry. From all angles the mirrors reflected the naked plump young woman, dark hair tumbling about her shoulders, high breasts raised further by her arms extended over her head. Gordon brought the crop down against her ass, making it jiggle. He liked to see the big ass turning pink as it bounced. Gina twitched and tried to move out of the way, but of course she could not, bound in chains and restrained as she was.

  When Gordon began to use the crop on her back, Gina's cries doubled in volume and pain. Her ass, at least, was protected by ample padding, but her back was more sensitive and the stinging blows were peppering her flesh. As she turned in an effort to avoid the crop, it caught her neatly across one nipple. Her cries became a wail of agony and tears began to seep from her eyes, which were squeezed shut in fear. Gordon knew that smack to the nipple must have felt like fire. But he also knew that this was not a particularly severe beating – any moderately trained slave could have taken it in silence without a whimper. Except for that one blow to the aching nipple.

  But Gina was not a slave, not yet. She hadn't even begun to imagine what it was to suffer. But she would learn, and quickly. Gordon was a devoted teacher. He laughed at this silent description of himself and began to whip her harder, smacking her belly, her sex, her back, her
ass, her thighs. Gina began to dance involuntarily, squealing and jumping in an effort to avoid the sharp, stinging blows. She was crying and begging, but this only seemed to spur Gordon on, and his blows became harder and harder, leaving angry red marks all over the virgin's body.

  When at last he stopped, Gina was bathed in sweat. She felt a warm stream of something rushing down her leg and, horrified, realized she had wet herself. Gordon realized it too. "You filthy pig," he snarled, his voice dripping with disgust. Roughly he pushed her to the mattress, leaving her wet with her own urine, to cry herself to sleep.

  "Tomorrow," he promised, as he locked the door behind him, "your real training begins."

  Chapter 2 – The Kiss

  Hours had passed. Gina realized she must have fallen asleep, because as she squinted her eyes open, the fog of dreams momentarily confused her and she thought she was at home in her own safe bed. It even smelled like home, and the scent of baking brought images of her mother's warm cheerful kitchen to her mind. But the chains on her wrists and the damp urine-splashed mattress beneath her naked body reminded her with instant and miserable certainty that she was not at home.

  Struggling to sit up, Gina saw that a tray had been laid next to her, with a dishtowel covering it. Tentatively Gina reached out and removed the towel. Three warm muffins nestled in a basket and there was an empty mug and a little pitcher of what smelled like hot coffee. There were even a little ceramic creamer and sugar bowl. Gina realized she was starving, and marveled at herself that she could even think about food when she might be murdered at any moment.

  Always a practical girl, she decided she might as well die full as hungry. Reaching for a muffin, she took a large bite. It was unbelievably delicious, with fresh blueberries in a moist warm bread. Perhaps the thought that this might be her last meal made the food taste so good. She decided to try to pour some of the coffee, and spent some moments attempting to position herself so that the heavy dangling chain between her wrists wouldn't get in the way.