Chapter 8
Amy
It was fast and physical, and big arms suddenly around her, no time to scream until the door slammed shut. But by then Amy was in a big man’s violent grip.
He tried to pin her to the floor of the van, thinly carpeted but not padded. But Amy scrambled, kicking and swinging her fists at him, a black-clad mountain of muscle and vigor. Her feet landed a few decent blows and managed to put some distance between them, but she couldn’t clear his reach. His hands kept reaching out, grabbing her flailing calves, ankles, pulling her closer by the inch.
A hard swipe of his massive arm pinned her legs and he crawled over her. But Amy was still facing up and her arms were free, a pair of blurred fists striking his face, shoulders, chest.
Amy looked up at him, teeth gritted. “Get away from me, you bastard!” But she knew he wouldn’t, and that her objections might even stir him on. But it was what she wanted, what she was there for, what they both were there for.
Her kidnapper seemed to know she couldn’t really hurt him. Amy wondered if he didn’t even enjoy it … as much as she was, maybe even more.
Camden grabbed Amy’s wrists and slammed them down onto the carpeted van floor, rumbling with the transmission beneath. Amy couldn’t pull free, and he loomed over her, low and close. She was insistent on rebelling, but he seemed just as ready to play his own role in their manufactured conflict.
They stared at each other, predator and prey, faces only inches apart, each one braced by their will to resist the best efforts of the other. He was bare-faced, and Amy knew instantly why. She wasn’t going to be reporting or identifying him, and she hadn’t requested it. Looking into his face, she was glad for her choice. He was just as gorgeous as his picture; this black-haired Adonis had incredible blue eyes, high cheekbones, a strong and dimpled chin. Those black strands hung long and thick over his face, wavy, almost shimmering. He looked down at her with a calm determination, a silent certainty that they were both exactly where they belonged. She could see in his eyes that he was looking at her face with as much scrutiny as she was absorbing his, and she hoped she was making just as good an impression. The moment between them stretched out in a long, strange silence, Amy feeling small and vulnerable beneath his considerable size and strength. But she could detect a humanity behind his steely facade, a tenderness that he dared not reveal, at least not yet.
Kiss me, Amy heard herself silently cry out, kiss me now, you bastard!
And he seemed to be thinking the same thing, his head lowering slowly, eyes dipping shut, hips grinding just a bit on her.
Yes, do it! Do it!
Instead, he flipped her over onto her stomach in a flash. His weight pressed down onto the small of her back as he grabbed her arms and pulled them back. “Ouch, stop it!” she cried, one arm bending against the elbow until she could shift a bit, his grip loosening so she could rotate her limb and he could pull it back to meet its partner.
The clink of the cuffs behind Amy told her what was going to happen next even without being able to see it, her vision dominated by the cheap carpeted van floor. But when that cold handcuff snapped around one wrist and locked tight with a series of little clicks, Amy was still taken off-guard enough to send a shiver through her body.
Amy welcomed the second clack of the handcuffs as they locked around her free wrist, chaining them together. Her arms stretched back in a way they never had before, and the feeling of not being able to use them was unfamiliar but strangely thrilling. It made the experience more physical, more lifelike, more real. As the cuffs’ sharp edges threatened to start cutting into the tender skin of her wrists, Amy began to wonder just how real this experience was going to get.
With Amy still face down, Camden pinned her kicking calved together and held them tight with one arm, the other clacking another pair of cuffs, one around each ankle.
“Please,” Amy felt compelled to say, “you don’t have to do that, I won’t run away.” But Camden just stopped and Amy knew he was looking at her from behind in disbelief. She turned her head to get a better view of him. “These cuffs are gonna hurt. We’re in a van, where am I gonna run?”
But after a brief pause, the last cuff closed down on her smooth, slender ankle, locking her legs together. And laying face down as she was, she couldn’t even use them as a single weapon to kick that hulking menace away from her, however little good it would do her.
Her thighs were pressed together, and they rubbed as she tested the strength of the cuffs. But with each pull, she could sense the cuffs getting just a little bit tighter.
Clack … clack … clack …
He said, “Comfortable?”
“Fuck you,” she spat back.
“You’re a real wildcat, huh? Just how I like ‘em!” That remark sent a chill through most of Amy’s body, but she couldn’t deny the warm rush it sent to other regions.
Camden rustled behind Amy, but she couldn’t see what he was doing. She had a pretty good idea though. Hands cuffed; check. Feet; done. Next?
A gag.
And just as the word struck her brain, the plastic screech of duct tape filled her ears. After a quick, thin rip, a sticky strip of the gray stuff was plastered over mouth, lips sealed. A shot of fear bolted through Amy, instinct and the need to breathe suddenly reminding her of how helpless she was. Her heart was beating faster, hands automatically jerking at her cuffs as he tore off a second strip to reinforce the first.
A third was pulled even tighter over the first two, just under her nostrils.
Amy shook her head, moaning under the tape, unable to beg for him to take it off. With her heightened heart rate, panted breath rushing through her nose, her senses began tingling, brain starting to hurt.
Amy was secured and silenced, but the big man was still on top of her. And the reason for his remaining on top of her soon became clear, even as everything else went dark. The black cloth had been folded into a wide strip and he pressed it tight over her eyes before tying it behind her back. Her world suddenly thrown into darkness, Amy’s heart skipped and started beating even faster, goosebumps rising on the backs of her arms.
Blindfold; check.
“All right, all right,” her kidnapper said, “time to hit the road.” He chuckled climbed off of Amy to leave her bound in the back of the van. Camden turned the engine over and Amy felt the van lurch forward, the rickety transmission sending every little flaw in the road jutting straight up into her head and her body as she rolled and shifted to lay on her side.
Chapter 9
Amy
The van rumbled on, minutes stretching out, darkness surrounding Amy. Her attempts to move met with more little clicks, the edges of the cuffs closing in on her wrists and ankles from every side.
My God, Amy thought to herself, this is really happening! Well, not really, but … it’s happening!
Amy’s heart calmed a bit, her own silent reassurances sinking in.
How should I play this? What should I do now?
But with her lips taped and limbs cuffed, Amy realized that really was very little that she could do other than wait and relax and try to get the most out of her experience. As the van drove on, Amy’s mind began to wander.
To make the most of her situation, like her life, to truly make it worthwhile, Amy knew she would have to throw herself into it full-bore. Have to stop thinking so much, Amy told herself, plumb my feelings; don’t think, react, behave.
Enjoy.
Laying on that vibrating van floor, no padding between her and that trembling metal plate beneath her, Amy’s body was humming with the steady vibration. And with her eyes blindfolded and mouth taped, her other senses felt heightened; everything she heard seemed louder, the carpet against her skin was rough and grainy.
And what she was feeling inside was even more exaggerated than what she was feeling outside, and a lot more influential, a mainline from her brains leading straight to her loins.
Enjoy it, the words came back to Amy’s imagina
tion, startling her to sound more like Tia McBride’s voice than her own. Don’t think, feel.
But her brain couldn’t stop, fueled by her body’s increasing reaction to her condition. Her muscles were starting to ache just a bit, her breasts pushed forward by the position. Laying on her side, the feeling of the grainy carpet against the side of her breast was heightened, almost a sensuous burn. Her nipples were hard against her shirt, and a slight shift forward brushed her hard nipples against that rough carpet, only a thin layer of cotton between them. Amy pushed herself forward an inch or two, then slid back, forth and back again to make her nipple prickle with fiction, heat and a slight pain shooting into her breast. It inspired a little whimper, trapped in her tape gag. The sound of her own helplessness only made her feel more inhibited and that, in turn, made her less inhibited. A louder cry, still muffled, made her body jerk forward and back once more, back and forth for that awesome sizzle on her nipple. She wanted to reach around and rub it, pull and pinch and twist it, waving her stiffened fingers just in front of her tit to pummel the nipple with countless strikes per second as she did when she spent those long hours pleasuring herself.
But now she couldn’t even do that, and her breast screamed out for more attention, the static tease too much to ignore but not nearly enough to satisfy.
And all that growing sexual energy would not remain localized. Her crotch was dampening, her tight jeans pressing up into her.
Amy cried out again, tape withholding her plea, and that trapped energy turned back around and fed into her growing and increasingly frustrated sexuality. She kicked her bound legs, feet finding the wall of the van, the sound echoing with a loud thunk.
But this only made her struggle more, and to want to struggle more. The few inches of chain between the cuffs gave her legs enough room to rub against each other, and with just the right shift she could tuck her pants up even higher, tight denim pressing against her aching pussy, thighs rubbing and pressing against each other, pelvis pulling back while she rubbed her tits into the carpet, both nipples hurting to the point of numbness, hard and hot. All that horniness was building up, filling her to the point of overflow. But with her senses robbed of her, there was nowhere for that energy to go but straight back where it came from.
Amy’s pussy was on fire, the center of her body and at that point her mind, her life, her past and her present and her future. And it was aching, trapped, pent up and pinned, just like she was.
Helpless.
And loving it.
Amy pulled again, a desperate urge to be free but not so she could escape. Her fingers reached out from behind her back, craving to dig into her hot pussy, pull around the back of her little mound to her G spot and rub it like her life depended on it.
But she couldn’t, and not being able to was a sensation all its own. It made her even hotter, but that frustration was almost overwhelming, and the idea that she might have to endure it for hours or even days brought a pathetic cry to her gagged lips.
The van kept humming, Amy kept writhing and groaning. The van slowed as it pulled over, finally idling for a moment before rolling forward, turning sharply and pulling to a stop.
The van jostled as Camden climbed into the back of the fan. She couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but her body stiffened when his big hands landed on her forearms and pulled her back into a seated position in front of him.
“You just relax,” Camden whispered into her ear, “everything’ll be fine. If you make a mistake, you’ll have to pay for it. Are we clear?” His voice rang in the back of her ear and resonated far deeper than that. She nodded, the only response she could offer. And that gave her a charge she wasn’t expecting, a voyeuristic thrill, and it caused her to wriggle in his grip a bit, her labia grinding together with even greater strength and more sparkling inspiration.
She rubbed her thighs, denim stretched tight like a second skin, pushing back against her captor and savoring his strength, a single massive arm holding her to him. While the muttering continued outside the van, Camden lowered his face to Amy’s ear. She knew he was reading her body, sensing her rising lust, and he knew what part he played in its cause. The only question was how much a part he’d play in its release.
And when.
Camden slid his free hand slowly down Amy’s neck, tracing the curves, feeling her muscles clench as she swallowed hard. His hand slid further down to her breasts, his arm holding her torso just beneath them. Camden chuckled into her ear as he delicately flicked her hard nipple, an erect little affirmation of what both of them already knew. A few more flicks and Amy shook her chest, encouraging a hard squeeze, pushing and kneading in a way she’d been yearning for since she was rubbing herself against the van floor, an hour or so before.
Or was it ten minutes? Amy wondered, unable to tell and no longer caring.
He squeezed her other breast, hard and firm, and she shook herself again in a faux rebellion, brows pushed downward as she tried to pull away. He lowered his face into the exposed nape of her neck, surprisingly gentle kisses contrasting with his sturdy grip and firm, squeezing hand. The power of the contrast, and of his hot breath on her neck, send a passionate quake through her, nerves dancing beneath her skin as his free hand traveled further south, down her lean belly and then further than that.
Amy’s pussy had been anticipating this move for hours, days, weeks, and when it happened it came with irresistible force and amazing precision. Camden was just as forceful as he needed to be, knowing the nature of his quarry, its strengths, and delicacies, it's yearning, the keys to its endless satisfaction.
Just his touch was enough to make her body spasm, a slow-simmering orgasm growing to suddenly titanic proportions just behind her trembling mound, ready to break open like a volcano. Camden’s hand remained, rubbing her through the denim, fingers touching her deeper than she’d ever been touched without truly touching her at all. It was sexy, it was sex, yet so much more than either one.
Camden’s massive cock was getting bigger and harder fast, Amy could detect its progress and writhed deliberately into it, wanting to encourage it to full strength, needing to know it better, to know it entirely, to surrender to it, and to its ultimate master. She tried to reach it with her cuffed hands, but it was pressing into her back just out of reach. But Camden sensed her frustration and pressed his hardened erection into her back, rubbing it into the crevice of her spine.
Camden rasped into her ear, “You’re gonna get what you need, Amy, you’re gonna get what you deserve.” He stressed the last word, rubbing her pussy even harder, making her thighs clamp together even tighter. The more she refused him, the more she wanted him, and he was happy to oblige.
Amy’s body shook with the force of her orgasm, clenching her teeth and her legs. Moaning into her taped lips, Camden returned his hand to cover her and silence her orgasmic wail to the point of a tiny squeak, barely escaping and turning them both on even more.
Camden rubbed harder, fostering that percolating orgasm inside her, Amy unable to do anything but lean back hard into his grip, pressing her face into his massive chest, euphoric tears rolling down her face.
“All right,” he said in a calm growl as he stroked her short, blonde hair, “let’s go inside.”
Chapter 10
Amy
Camden slid out of the van and Amy felt hard hands on her legs, pulling her across the thin carpet to the side of the van. With a heave, Amy felt herself being pulled up and flung over his broad shoulder.
When he slapped her ass cheek and gave it a good, solid rub, she was certain it was him. Blood rushed to her head, her empty belly aching as it was bent over his shoulder, her body bobbing with his clumsy steps. Birds chirped louder than in the city, the smell of pine and rotting leaves heavy in the air. Then Amy could sense those things being shut off, the sunlight bleeding through the blindfold quickly replaced by darkness, the musty smell of the cabin replacing the refreshing scent of pine.
The door slammed hard behind the
m, a vibration ringing in her ears as Camden carried her across the cabin a few steps and dropped her down hard. Amy’s body tensed, not knowing what was coming in that surprising second, but the rusty springs and soft mattress reassured her.
Amy’s body was clenched on the bed, cuffs digging into her skin, even the slightest movement creating stinging pain shooting up her arms and down into her numbing, swelling hands.
And her breath was coming harder too, pushed through her clenched throat, only her two nostrils bringing her any conduit to life at all. But her lungs were burning with the continuous effort, and the wheezing sound couldn’t have been lost on him. In any case, she tried to cry out, “Take off the tape!” but she knew it came out sounding more like, “Tkmfffftpmmff.”
Amy could sense Camden kneeling to her. “If I take that tape off yer mouth,” he said, “Your not gonna scream. Right?” Amy nodded. “Right?” he repeated louder, and she nodded even more. “All right then.”
His fingers made her face twitch, but she held still while he peeled the three strips of tape away from her mouth. Her skin pulled with it, lips drawn away from her face and left with a sticky residue as the gag disappeared from her face and was tossed aside. Amy gasped broadly, taking in a refreshing lungful of air.
Amy lay on that bed, almost impossible to move. “Please,” she said meekly, “these cuffs hurt.” Camden didn’t answer, staring at her instead from just a few feet away. Amy went on, “Look, you can tie me up with rope or something, but these metal cuffs are cutting into my skin.” She added in a sterner, more emboldened tone, “Now take them off, please!” Still, no answer came. So she decided to take a different tack. “You think you’re so tough, you gotta keep a woman chained up like an animal?”
“You’d rather be tied down than chained up? Sounds like you haven’t thought it out very thoroughly.”
Capture Me Page 6
