The Stolen Girl

by Samantha Westlake

  Just a couple feet away from me, a man was sitting in an armchair with his legs splayed. He wore a leather vest, hanging open to show off his gut, but nothing else. A blonde woman crouching in front of him, completely nude, was rocking back and forth as she sucked on his cock. The reason for her rocking was clear - another man was kneeling behind her, his own dick buried in her ass all the way up to his balls. He was forcing himself in and out, one hand slipping up over the woman’s naked back to reach around and fondle her tits as they jiggled back and forth. The woman was moaning in pleasure, but her cries were muffled by the shaft filling her mouth. The man behind her had his other hand tangled up in her long blonde hair and was tugging on it, occasionally jerking her mouth back on the shaft inside as she was forced to arch her back.

  And variations on this threesome were repeated all across the room! On a couch, a young woman, maybe only about my age, lay on her back while a man squatted over her, dipping his balls and cock in and out of her mouth. She was quite skinny, her chest almost flat, but her youth only seemed to spur the two older men interacting with her to greater heights. She was lying there gasping with her mouth open while another biker buried his head between her legs. I could see her toes curling and uncurling as his tongue flicked away at her, and her nipples stood straight up from her chest.

  On the floor, right in the middle of the room, another woman, this one older, perhaps in her forties, was squatting atop a rather portly fellow lying on his back. As we took another step into the room, I could see that his cock was sliding in and out of her; she was completely shaved, and I could see her pink pussy stretching as the big shaft pumped in and out of her. Two other men were standing next to her, their cocks out as well; she had one in each hand, apparently jerking on them as she bobbed up and down. A funnel extended from her mouth, and one of the men standing next to her was laughing as he poured beer down the funnel and straight into her lips. Her rhythmic motions were making her oversized tits bounce up and down on her chest, occasionally nearly managing to whack her in the face before flopping back down. I didn’t understand how she wasn’t in pain!

  “Oh, hey there!” I jerked around at the voice, but it wasn’t directed towards me. Two women had come ambling out from around the corner, their eyes fixed on Roads and big smiles painted across their faces.

  I couldn’t stop myself from sizing them up as they drew close - uncomfortably close - to the big biker. One of the girls, her red hair definitely out of a bottle, was wearing a pair of Daisy Duke cut-off jeans and a too-small flannel shirt tied around her breasts, showing off her tanned midriff. She was quite busty, and I could tell that she had neglected to put on a bra this morning. With every step, she seemed as though she was about to fall out of her hand-knotted top.

  The other girl, shorter and more petite, twirled a strand of her long, wavy, platinum blonde hair between her fingers as she stepped up and ran her other hand over Roads’ chest. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here, Roads,” she murmured in a stage whisper that I had no trouble hearing. Her tank top dipped so low that I could see the crests of her areolas, and her tight jeans clung to every curve of her ass and long, toned legs. She looked like she had stepped straight out of the pages of an adult magazine.

  Roads looked slightly uncomfortable as he gazed down at these two women batting their eyes at him. I, on the other hand, felt a strange and simmering rage building up in me. I didn’t know why I was so suddenly, irrationally at them, but a small corner of my mind was yelling at me to yank on their dyed hair and tell them to back off!

  I glanced down at myself, only now realizing that I was still dressed in my pajamas, the same clothes I had been kidnapped in. The long trip on the road had left them dusty and dirty, and I could feel a similar layer of grime covering my skin. I probably looked like some sort of scarecrow. How was I supposed to compete with these perfectly made up painted women? Wait a minute - why did I even want to compete with them? This wild orgy of carnal pleasure definitely wasn’t what I was interested in. But then where was all of this jealousy stemming from?

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  While I had taken a moment for introspection, trying to figure out why I was experiencing a sudden bout of jealousy, the two other women had moved in closer to their target. “Ladies, I need a moment,” Roads finally managed to get out, although not until both women had their hands on him, running over his chest and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Will you excuse me?”

  “Oh, I’m not letting you get away that fast,” the redhead purred, pushing forward and knocking me aside so that she could slip into the biker’s arms. She threw her hands up around his neck, grinding her tits against his chest. “I remember when you were last here, big boy. You gave Carrie and me a night that I still think about when I’m feeling especially horny.” One of her hands dipped down to run prominently over the man’s crotch, feeling at his package through his leather pants. “How about a repeat performance?”

  The blonde, Carrie, didn’t hesitate to jump in as well. Her hands reached out, grabbing Roads’ arm as he brought it up to fend off this slut. Pulling it towards her, she nestled her head into his armpit while shoving his fingers inside her top. I saw Roads’ hand tighten around one of her breasts, and felt my eyes narrow. “I’m in,” she added. “Or rather, I want you in me!”

  Roads paused, and I could see his resolve weakening. I lifted my hand to my mouth and let out a cough, subtly trying to pull his attention back to me. At the sound, his eyes jerked up, landing on me, and he seemed to shake off the spell of the two whores and return to himself.

  “Please, just a minute,” he insisted, and he withdrew his hand from inside Carrie’s shirt. She pouted up at him, but he didn’t even seem to notice, instead carefully but surely prying the redhead off of his chest.

  I didn’t see exactly how it happened - whether it was Roads’ hand, or if the redhead did it herself, but suddenly, the knot that was straining to hold back her busty chest gave way, and the flannel shirt tied around her fell away. Her boobs, artificially big and round, were free and exposed. Instead of showing any hint of shame, however, she wiggled them enticingly at Roads. “Are you saying that you’re going to pass on these?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, there are plenty of other guys here that would love to take a ride on this!”

  Roads opened his mouth but didn’t reply right away, and I saw him physically shudder. But he pulled his eyes away from them and made eye contact with me for a moment, and seemed to draw strength. “I’m sorry,” he said again, but this time I could hear the iron in his voice. “But no.”

  And, clearly focusing every bit of his mental self control on keeping his eyes away from the alluring sight of the redhead’s chest, Roads stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder once again. “Upstairs,” he whispered into my ear, guiding me on a safe path through the orgy of flesh and pleasure occurring in the living room. At the far end, a set of wooden stairs led up to a second floor. That seemed to be our destination.

  As we walked across the living room, I tried to keep my eyes up, focused just on the stairs, not looking at what was going on all around me. The sights and sounds were impossible to ignore, however. I could hear the squishing, slapping sounds of flesh on flesh, the smacks of buttocks slamming into hips, and cries of pleasure, both male and female. One woman, over in the corner with an especially large biker holding her up and working her back and forth like a toy, was letting out a breathy wail that carried over the rest of the sounds. “Oh, oh, oh, yes, oh yes, yes!” she was panting out, sucking in sharp breaths. I tried to keep my eyes averted.

  As we started to climb the carpeted stairs, we had to step around one couple, the man seated on the stairs and bouncing a skinny, naked young brunette on his lap. His hands were on her ass, lifting her up and down, while the girl tilted her head back and let her hair cascade down over the man’s face and chest. But as we approached them, I realized that I knew that man. It was Chainz, the biker that had
been part of my forced escort!

  Chainz glanced up at us as we passed, and I could see that he immediately recognized me as well. His mouth spread into a toothy grin. “Well, look who’s seeing her first adult party!” he exclaimed. “Having fun yet?”

  One of the man’s hands removed itself from the girl’s ass and reached out, sliding up the naked skin on my leg. I shuddered at his touch and shook him off. I nearly lashed out and slammed my foot into his face, every fiber fighting back against the irrational but oh-so-satisfying temptation to shatter that obnoxious smile. My rejection and revulsion seemed to only provide more encouragement to him, however, as his grin widened.

  “Oh, I see,” Chainz said, his eyes flicking between me and Roads. “You’ve found a partner already! Well, you better be careful with her, Roads - don’t break her in half just yet; we still need her in one piece!”

  “Watch it, Chainz,” Roads growled.

  “Oh, relax,” the man replied, turning back to the girl still impaling herself on his lap. “I know that you’re too hung up on your damn honor to pull anything. But just because you’re too high and mighty, doesn’t mean that the rest of us have to be! Maybe once I’m done with this bitch here, I’ll take a stroll upstairs and see if I can help our captive here unwind and kick loose a little!”

  Roads opened his mouth again, but this time, I was faster and ready with a retort. “I suppose that, if I was going to start doing things like this, I should start with the smallest guy first,” I snapped. “So you’d be the natural choice!”

  For a moment, the man on the stairs narrowed his eyes into a glare at me, and I was afraid that he was going to chuck his current fuck partner off and come after me physically. But behind me, Roads let out a chuckle of laughter at my comment, and the other biker’s face finally softened.

  “Not bad, you little shit,” he said, but there wasn’t any real malice behind the swear. “Roads, maybe she will be good for you. She’s got that same stick up her ass that you seem to always be carrying around.”

  I was expecting the big biker behind me to also fire back, but he just shook his head, and his hand on my shoulder urged me upward and past Chainz. After we had climbed past him, I glanced back. He had returned to fucking the girl on his lap, his hands on her hips slamming her down with an audible smack each time she landed. His head was turned, however, and he caught me looking back at him. He shot me a wink, so explicit that I had to turn forward again so he wouldn’t see the heat rising up in my cheeks.

  At the top of the stairs, a long hallway led off in both directions, with several doors on each side. “This place is our gang’s main retreat,” Roads explained as we reached the top of the steps. “Most of us have our own bedrooms here, where we can keep valuables and such safe so that they don’t get lost or damaged in parties.”

  “Hey! Are you calling me a valuable?” I joked at him. I wasn’t sure whether to be dejected that he thought of me as property, or happy that he thought I had value!

  Roads blinked at me, not sure how to respond. “Look, I just want to make sure that you’re safe and you stay out of the way of some of the people at this party,” he went on after a minute. “They can be rather rough, and they have a tendency to, er, pull people in. Even if those people don’t especially want to join in.”

  I had a suspicion that Chainz was a prime instigator of that. But Roads’ hand was once again on my shoulder, guiding me down the hall. We stopped in front of one of the doors, roughly halfway along the length of the hallway. Roads rummaged about in his pants pocket and produced a key, which he slid into the lock and turned. “Inside,” he commanded, opening the door for me.

  I stepped inside and found myself in a fairly clean and well-maintained, if small, single room. There was a twin bed pushed into the back right-hand corner, taking up more than a quarter of the room. A small bedside table stood next to it, with a lamp on top. A small desk with a wooden chair stood against the left-hand wall, and there was a dresser next to the door with a small, old-looking television balanced on top. The furnishings were sparse but clean. The walls had a couple posters showing motorcycles tacked up, the paper not in frames but merely held to the wall with pushpins. I was vaguely reminded of some of the college dormitory rooms that I had visited.

  “t’s kind of nice!” I commented honestly, stepping inside and looking around. “I was kind of expecting more death and black, to be honest. You know, skulls and stuff! Like a biker gang should have!”

  Roads shrugged, still standing in the doorway. “What, don’t I seem tough and imposing enough already?” he asked.

  Was that a joke? I eyeballed him with a critical expression on my face. “You seem like a big softy to me,” I shot back. “In fact, I bet that I could totally get you twisted around my little finger, get you to do my bidding!”

  The biker looked as though he was trying to hold back, but he couldn’t prevent his lips from quirking up slightly at the corner of his mouth. “I’m very tough,” he said, unable to prevent a defensive, almost whining note from entering his voice. “But anyway, don’t go digging through all of my belongings, please!”

  Wait. “Why would I be digging-” I began, but before I could finish the sentence, Roads had shut the door! I ran towards it, but a moment later I heard the clicking, metallic sound of the key turning in the keyhole. When I tried the handle, it didn’t budge. I was locked in.

  I turned around and leaned against the door with my arms crossed, a grumpy frown on my face for a moment. I had definitely been connecting with the man. In the back of my head, a little voice was wondering what, exactly, I was after with this connection, but I hushed it. He was one of my kidnappers, and I knew that establishing a good connection with them would make them less likely to strike out against me, to consider hurting me. If they could see me as a person, they would find it tougher to kill me, to dispose of me if things went wrong.

  But then why did I care so much more about Roads seeing me as a good person than the others? And why was I envious of those other women that had come up and flirted with him? In fact, he was probably heading back downstairs right now to go resume where he had left off with them, to take off his clothes and become just one more writhing, sweaty body in that orgy, fucking and sucking and pleasuring everything around him!

  As my mind began playing scenes of this, my fingers tightened into fists, my nails biting painfully into my palms. I wasn’t going to put up with this any longer, I decided. It was time to snap back to reality. I had to get out of here.

  I lifted my gaze and began looking around the room. I had been left here, unsupervised and unbound, and this could be my chance to turn the tides. Maybe I could find a way to communicate with the outside world, or some sort of weapon that I could hide on my person in case things went south. Heck, maybe I could even find some new clothing, something less dirty and stained than my current outfit.

  Whatever I did find, however, I had to remember that I was a captive. I couldn’t let myself forget my biggest goal: to escape. To get to safety.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  I walked the two steps that it took to cross Roads’ small room, and flopped down on his bed. It creaked comfortably under my weight and I felt myself slide slightly in towards the center; clearly, the big man made regular use of this bed. Once seated, I took a moment to pull in a long breath, sucking in air until my lungs were completely full, and then slowly let it out. I repeated this twice more, letting the stress flow out of my limbs. Only after I felt that I was calm enough did I raise my gaze, peering around the room.

  The small television sitting on top of the dresser caught my eye. But how did it turn on? I cast my gaze around the room, settling on the bedside table. There was a single drawer in it, and I tugged it open. Inside was a box of condoms, a few hairpins, and bingo! A remote! That had to be for the television. I grabbed it, ignoring the other items, and aimed it at the screen across the room.

  A click of the red button at the top, and the screen winked in
to life. The display was a bit fuzzy, and the picture occasionally seemed to jerk a little, but it was good enough for the moment, and the sound was fairly clear. Roads had apparently last been watching some sort of sports channel, as the screen showed a bunch of basketball players running back and forth.

  Working the buttons on the remote, I scrolled through the channels, searching for a news program. It didn’t take me long to find one. About ten channels down from the basketball game, I hit a female news anchor, her hair expertly in place as she sat behind a desk and shuffled a stack of papers on the desk in front of her, gazing intently into the camera.

  I let the program run for a while. There was international news and politics, most of which I already knew from listening to my father. As a senator, he tended to learn about international incidents and political issues at least a day or two before the mainstream news crews would begin running full segments. A commercial break followed, which I sat through impatiently. And then, after a brief segue into weather and the heat wave apparently going to sweep across the country over the next two weeks, the segment that I had been waiting for finally came up.

  “...and on a more tragic note, we have reports coming in from Washington, DC, that Senator Leonard Sterling’s daughter is currently missing. Authorities have not released any details at this time, but we have unconfirmed reports that evidence points to foul play, and she may be currently being held against her will.”

  On the screen, the female anchor’s face was replaced by a large photograph of me. I recognized the picture. It was from my spring prom, just a few months ago, although my date had been clipped out of the picture. I snorted a little when I saw the image. Sure, I looked beautiful in the image, but that was after spending all day at a beauty salon, having my hair perfectly cleaned and shaped, and with expertly done makeup on. I was pretty sure that even the bikers downstairs wouldn’t connect that picture with me.