Kidnapped - Sex Stories

Kidnapped

... eyes taking in my surroundings. An old farmhouse was my first thought. Much like ones I'd seen time and again in movies. The windows, were big, the battens nailed across them did filter out some light. The room was shabby, flaking wallpaper, mold around the corners of the ceiling. It smelt musty, as if it hadn't been used in a very long time.

In the corner sat an old child's cot, again unused. Well not for a long time anyway.

I had far more urgent needs, if I didn't get to a toilet quickly, I was going to embarrass myself.

"Help, somebody please. Help, me." My screams grew in intensity, my bladder straining to hold.

The bedroom door burst open, and a large burly man burst in, the door slamming back against the wall. "Shut up, nobody can hear you."

"I need to go to the toilet."

He nodded, his dark eyes peering out from the narrow slit of his balaclava. He reached for his belt, and pulled off a set of keys. As I sat up, he pulled the sack over my head, and led me down what must have been a passageway.

My hands were handcuffed to a rail. The guy snarled loudly. "The toilets behind you. I'm closing the door. Call out when you're finished."

I fumbled around to find the cool porcelain bowl. My bum barely touched the rim when my bladder let go. Ah, what relief, with my head in my hands I sighed in total confusion. What the hell was going on. Funny how with your senses limited, others take over. I smelt the cleaning compounds, the shampoo sitting somewhere ...

... off to the right.

Fumbling around I found some toilet paper. "I'm finished." I called out as the toilet flushed. I heard the door open and in that moment, I heard what sounded like a TV, I smelt food cooking. Then hands clasping firmly around my forearm, dragging me out.

"Why are you doing this?" I cried. "What's happening?"

"Shut up." The answer came back loudly. A gruff male voice. The accent unfamiliar. "Either be quiet, or I'll leave the hood on."

The cuffs closed over my ankles. Then he snatched me by the wrists and pushed me back onto my back and slipped my hands back into the cuffs. Once secured, he lifted off the hood, and I reeled under the intense light.

"What are you doing, why am I being held prisoner?" I cried, trying hard to restrain the tears.

"I said be quiet." He snarled, as he turned and walked out, leaving me cringing at the smell of stale cigarette smoke on his flannel shirt. It wasn't just the smoke, there was aftershave, and soap.

Terror seeped into every fiber of my being. All I felt were the icy cold tendrils of fear gripping me tighter and tighter. Was I going to be raped and tortured? What else could it be? Tears streamed down my face as I lay there. Fear, I had never in my life experienced anything like it. I could hear people, or a person walking around, it was an old house, and the floorboards responded as you would expect. Creaking and groaning under the duress.

The door opened, and a woman walked in carrying a tray of food. ...