The only thing that stood out to me was his eyes. They were the color of molten silver, and lively—almost as if they were smiling at some inside joke.
“How old are you?” he asked abruptly, setting his things down on the counter.
“I just turned twenty-two.”
“Just?”
“My birthday was a month ago.”
“Happy belated birthday, then.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, still trying to gauge where his accent could be from.
He looked down for a brief second and snagged one of the bags of Nacho Bugles that hung just below the counter.
“These good?” he asked, holding them up.
“Those are my favorite thing to snack on, but they taste even better with a root beer.”
“I need to grab one of those too, then.” He winked and slid the corn chips beside his pack of mints and a mini flashlight before pointing to the wall of cigarettes behind me.
“Can I have a red pack of Pall Malls?”
“Do I need to ID you?” I asked jokingly. His soft laugh brought forth another smile on my face. He made his way to the freezer where the soda was, and I spun around to grab him a box of smokes.
As I scanned the rows of cancer sticks for the right brand, I swore I could feel his eyes drilling into my spine.
When I turned back to face him, though, he had already sat the cold beverage down, and was texting someone on his phone.
He had taken one of his gloves off in the process, allowing me to catch a glimpse of a silver wedding band as I rang everything up.
I wondered where he was heading to, or from, so late at night.
“Is this it?”
“That’s it,” he confirmed.
“Okay, it’s going to be—”
“That’s not important.” He tossed down two twenty-dollar bills, telling me to keep the change, before grabbing the tiny black bag I’d sat on the counter.
“Wait, this is way too much.”
He ignored me and made his way to the door. “See you soon, Harper.”
The way he emphasized my name sent a tendril of unease slithering down my spine.
We didn’t exactly get ‘regulars’, so I wasn’t sure how to take his remark.
I stayed where I was and watched him pull out of the parking lot, noticing his truck looked pretty new.
It was equipped with a large metal grille guard and didn’t have any plates on it. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even gassed up.
The whole encounter had a strange vibe. Metric gas station sat off one of the rural highway exits. It was never really booming with business, but it served its purpose as a quick place to refuel on gas and grub with a clean bathroom.
I looked down at my simple black t-shirt and confirmed I wasn’t wearing my nametag.
So how the hell did he know what my name was?
Maybe I was looking too deep into things…Or maybe I wasn’t looking deep enough. It was possible he had come in before, and I just didn’t remember. Either way, the vibe turned creepy.
I tried my best to shrug off the whole ordeal, proceeding to lock the front door, flipping the open sign to closed.
After that, I rushed through the checklist, keeping an eye on the weather as I marked off each task.
By the time everything was done, it was almost eleven-forty. The last thing I needed to do was take the trash out.
I pulled on my winter jacket and grabbed my satchel before doing so, double-checking the locks and doing one last sweep.
I didn’t have the keys, so once I went out, I wouldn’t be able to get back in.
I exited from the rear, carrying small trash bags in each hand. The snow had yet to cease falling, and covered my boots immediately.
I forged through the back lot to the dumpster, sniffling as I went. When the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise, I stopped and scanned the parking lot.
No one was around, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, my mind flashing right back to the man with silver eyes.
Looking towards my car, I frowned. The rear tire on the passenger side looked flat.
“Perfect,” I huffed.
I’d had to refill it every few days, too lazy to take it to a shop and figure out why it was losing pressure.
In this cold weather, I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.
Metric didn’t have an air pump, but it wasn’t the end of the world. I’d just switch it with my spare.
The windshield was covered, more than likely iced over by now. That was going to take me an additional few minutes to handle.
Annoyed by my how this night was turning out, I trudged onward, shifting the bags of trash into one hand so I could lift the lid of the dumpster with my other.
I tossed them up and over, into the large metal bin, let the top slam shut, and then plodded to my car.
Thankfully, my door opened without me having to struggle with it. I started the engine and turned both defrosters to the max before popping my trunk so I could grab what I needed.
I cursed, finding that the jack wasn’t where it should have been. I’d never used the damn thing, so where was it?
I groaned in frustration and slammed the trunk shut. I guess I would be waiting on Triple-A. I wasn’t going to drag my parents out of the house for a flat at practically midnight.
This was adulting, right?
Half-way back to the driver side door, I heard what sounded like the snapping of a branch. I stopped. My eyes swept over the parking lot, pausing on the cluster of trees that extended behind the gas station.
Could someone be in there?
“Jesus,” I muttered after a minute, laughing at myself. Clearly, I watched way too many horror movies.
I got in the car and turned the heat to high after retrieving my phone from my bag.
I dialed Triple-A and sat on the line, getting an estimated arrival time of forty minutes from an operator.
Once we disconnected, I tapped out a quick text to my mom, telling her I would be there soon. Even at twenty-two, she made sure I checked in every night before my drive home.
I fiddled with the radio and settled on a late night talk show to fill the silence. Then, I leaned my seat back and got comfortable.
I woke from the sound of an approaching vehicle.
A quick glance at the dash told me only fifteen minutes or so had passed since I’d spoken with the operator.
I flicked my wipers on to clear the snow from my windshield, hoping I'd got lucky and a driver was miraculously in the area.
My stomach dropped when I saw the large black truck from earlier. It pulled all the way around to the back lot, parking in the spot Bill always used.
Its lights were off, and because of the dark window tint, I was unable to see anything.
The driver side door began to open, and I reached for my phone again, preparing to call the law.
I wasn’t going to wait around and see what he wanted. I was fucking terrified.
This man should have been long gone. He had no reason whatsoever to be back here. I dreaded to find out why he was; the mere thought of doing so made it difficult to breathe.
A gloved fist appeared in my peripheral, connecting with my window.
“You need some help?” he asked, peering in at me.
“I have Triple-A on the way. They’ll be here any minute,” I lied. “Thank you, though,” I added when he didn’t say anything.
I dialed the Sheriff’s station, ensuring my doors were locked while I waited for someone to pick up.
I hoped this man just went away. I knew they’d send someone as fast as they could, but it would take time for anyone to get to me.
“Way out here? I doubt anyone comes that soon,” he finally said, as if he’d just read my mind.
The Sherriff came on the line just as
I screamed, instinctively flinching away from my shattering window. A gloved hand reached in, grabbing me by the hair.
Before I
could scream again for help, a cool blade was pressed against my throat.
“Hang it up,” he demanded quietly, his accent thicker than it had been earlier.
I swallowed, blinking back tears as I reached for my cell and disconnected the call, cutting off whatever the Sheriff had been saying.
Everything after that seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.
He had me get out of the car, not bothering to cut the engine off.
My heart felt as if it were about to escape from my chest, slamming violently against my ribs.
He warned me to keep silent, pulled a syringe from his pocket, and jabbed it in the exposed part of my neck.
The last thing I remembered was being forced into the back of his truck.
–Chapter Four–
J
I closed the shackle around her ankle, crouching beside her naked body where she lay on the floor.
Lifting a stand of her long brown hair, I rubbed it between my fingers, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply.
I knew her scent well. I’d been inside her house plenty of times when no one was home, collecting little trinkets she’d never notice were missing.
Gently tucking the strand behind her ear, I watched her chest rise and fall. Her tits were the just the right size. Dark areolas encased her pert nipples in perfect circles.
Reaching down, I lightly palmed her left one, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her rosy bud, grinning when it hardened.
She didn’t stir, and I sat back up, my dick straining painfully against the seams of my jeans.
I adjusted myself and leaned my back against the wall. Gazing down at her smooth thighs made it worse. I wanted to spread her wide open and fuck her tight little pussy till my skin was chafed and my dick sore.
“Harper,” I called softly, my voice filling the space around us. I knew the small dose of Rohypnol I’d given her would hold her in a tranquilized state for at least another two hours, but it never hurt to check.
I unzipped my jeans and lowered them and my drawers just enough to free myself from the confining fabric.
My dick throbbed, pre-cum already beading on the head. I wrapped my fist around the base, using my other hand to nudge Harper’s legs apart.
I was greeted with a full view of her nearly bald pussy. She had a small triangle of hair purposely cut at the top. I’d never seen this with any of the other girls.
I liked that.
I released my dick and spat into the palm of my hand, using the saliva to lube myself up. Gripping the base again, I went to my knees and started fisting my hand up and down.
Lowering my face, I pressed my nose against her cunt and breathed in the sweetest scent I’d ever smelled.
I went a little higher and placed a kiss on the triangle of curls before inching forward.
I wouldn’t go all the way in. Just the tip.
I continued to stroke myself, pressing the head of my dick firmly against her. I made sure my fist lightly hit the top of my balls with each pump, feeling them lift and prepare to empty.
Her pussy lips spread apart, beckoning me to slide in a little further.
I didn’t. I had excellent self-control, even when I was harder than I’d been in months.
Pre-cum slowly rolled down my shaft to my patch of curly pubes. I let myself groan Harper’s name, working my dick faster.
I pictured the way she would beg me to stop when I took her, how the tears would fall from her eyes, and her moans of ecstasy and agony would build.
Her torment would be just as psychological as it was physical.
It was going to be exhilarating.
I’d scare her shitless, deprive her senses, and screw with her head so much she’d start to think that I was a fucking god.
All my girls went through the same thing. They had to be broken in and initiated.
I found my release and held it, angling myself away from Harper’s pussy and over her stomach. With another low moan, my dick jerked, and my seed shot out.
Taking a second to catch my breath, I sat back slowly, gathering the last remnants of semen off the head of my dick with my thumb, and wiping it across her supple lips, forcing her to smile in the process.
After tucking my flaccid dick away, I rubbed the come on her stomach into her skin.
She didn’t stir once, aside from a slight twitch of her nose.
I stood to leave, casting her one more glance.
“You’re welcome,” I responded chivalrously to the imaginary voice she thanked me with.
–Chapter Five–
Harper
I was taken.
He undressed me.
Those were my two most prevalent thoughts the second I lifted my lids and waited for the dancing black dots to clear from my vision.
The solid floor beneath my back was chilled and slightly rugged. I felt the prickling of goose bumps spread across my skin.
Inhaling a deep breath to try and calm my racing pulse, the potent aroma of cleaning solution assaulted my senses.
I pushed myself up to a sitting position, listening to my surroundings to make up for my lack of sight.
Whoever the man was, he didn’t seem to be around at the moment. That was a small reprieve.
Not wanting to alert him I was awake until I regained some of my bearings, I reached down as quietly as possible and found myself touching a metal restraint secured around my ankle.
Following the slackened chain attached to it, my palm brushed against a wall just as solid and chilled as the floor.
How long had I been unconscious?
I could vaguely remember the prick of something in the back of my neck. Whatever it was he’d given me was strong enough to keep me knocked out while he removed my clothes, chained me up, and did god knows what else.
Reaching between my legs, I almost melted in relief when I confirmed he hadn’t touched me there.
I assessed the rest of me, finding something dry and flakey on my stomach that fell off when I traced over it. Aside from that, I felt normal enough, given the circumstances.
As freezing as it was, perspiration gathered on my skin.
Once I was up on my feet, I crossed my arms, jamming my hands into my pits. It was pretty damn dark, but the floor beneath my bare feet was stone, and the wall felt like concrete.
Unable to be still, I began moving to the left. The chain scraped lightly behind me, never snagging.
I thought my eyes would have adjusted by now, but I could still barely see anything in front of me.
I reached a shaky hand out, and felt something round, sort-of grainy in texture, and solid.
Curling my fist, I moved it up and down, feeling the same thing right beside it.
“Bars,” I whispered to the silence. “I’m touching bars.”
Where the fuck was I?
Swallowing a sob, I followed them all the way down in search of an opening, running into another wall. Unable to find an exit, I used that to guide me.
The room was square, and not very big at all. I passed where the cool air was coming from and tried to find the source, assuming it was a vent too high for me to reach when I couldn’t.
I took a few more steps and then stopped abruptly, needing a few seconds to breathe and process.
I didn’t understand what was happening. Why this was happening.
I did a quick mental checklist. This situation wasn’t looking too bright for me.
A man didn’t kidnap a woman, strip her of her clothes, and then chain her up inside a cell because he wanted a simple conversation.
I wiped a hand across my brow to rid it of sweat, fighting against the overwhelming urge to scream bloody murder and wail my heart out.
Losing my shit wasn’t going to do me any favors. I needed to keep a clear head, and think rationally. I didn’t know where I was, if this man was working alone, or what made him tick.
Stepping forward again, my foot hit the side of something firm, yet soft. Crouching, I stretched both hands
outward to feel it out.
“Mattress,” I mumbled, running my palms over its entirety.
It was softer than my bed at home: this wasn’t cheap. There wasn’t anything on top of it but what felt like a small burlap blanket.
Sitting back on my haunches, I looked towards the end of it and saw a faint outline. Moving towards it, I found myself in front of a plastic bucket.
I shuffled over and peered inside. In addition to two bottles of water and a small box of saltine crackers was everything he’d just bought back at the gas station—minus the cigarettes.
As I stared down at the items, I recalled how he knew my name.
I found it impossible to believe he hadn’t already known my favorite chip before purchasing them. So how long had he been watching me?
Shutting my eyes, I let a few silent tears break free.
My family was going to lose their minds when they realized I was missing.
My mother would have tucked herself into bed under the illusion that I’d be arriving safely home.
My dad would set my place at the breakfast table for a meal I wouldn’t get to eat.
I’d tried to do the right thing, and it landed me in a stranger’s possession.
All I could do was hope I got out of this alive.
–Chapter Six–
Harper
I was pacing the cell when a blinding white light flickered on, illuminating everything around me.
I blinked rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the sudden change.
Now able to see, I summarized I was in a basement. I glanced around in search of any possible exits, but couldn’t find a single one.
The area outside the cell drew my biggest concern and brought fear boiling to the surface. It looked like something straight out of a B-grade horror film.
There was a gynecological chair sitting in the center of the room, looking like it had been handcrafted in hell, with a plastic drop cloth underneath it. Four blue nylon straps were attached to it, and some type of bloody bar was set on top of it. A thick black chain hung from the ceiling behind its headrest.
Aside from that, there was a large industrialized shelf against the back wall, lined with various containers along the top. All were labeled Oxygen Bleach, which explained the chemical smell. A few syringes, dildos, and gags sat on the bottom.
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