Abducted
 

Abducted and terrified, I lay in the trunk, minutes from my fate. My captor drives unhurriedly--he's eager to arrive at his destination, but careful enough to stay under the speed limit--and I do not know his name, nor will I, so I know him just as 'Him'.

He kidnapped me from my home as I was leaving the shower. He burst into the bathroom while my back was turned, armed with a rag. He cupped it over my mouth, let me inhale the cloth's putrid fumes while my screams went unheard, held it there until they abated. When I went limp in His arms He dragged me into the bedroom and handcuffed my wrists behind my back, and used duct tape to bind my ankles and gag me. He threw me over His shoulder and, under the cover of the cold February night, carried me to His car.

When I awoke, I gave up screaming for help when I realized that between the gag and car radio, I would not be heard.

I recognize the destination as soon as he drags me out of the trunk. It's a motel on the outskirts of town, between the downtown district and the beach. It's practically seasonal, with most of its business happening during the summer. This time of year, all but a handful of the rooms are going to be empty. I squeal as He pauses to unlock the door, but with no one around to notice, He traps me with ease.

He locks the door behind Him and approaches the bed, dumping me onto the mattress. On the way to the bathroom, He turns on the television, cranks the volume up. Without closing the door, He unzips His pants and starts pissing. I watch as He pulls the ski mask over His head.

He's in His mid-forties, twenty years my senior. His hair sports a substantial amount of grey. He pulls His shirt over His head, revealing a healthy beer belly. Upon finishing His business, He tucks himself away but doesn't bother zipping or buttoning His pants.

On the way to the bed, He turns off the light, bathing us in the flickering blue glow on the television. I make an effort to sit up as He encroaches on me, but it's too late. He crawls onto the bed.

"MMMMPH!" I squeal into the tape as He envelops me, pushing His dry, calloused fingers between my clenched thighs and using His mouth like a suction cup on my bare breast. When I try to withdraw, He yanks me to Him, ignoring my pleas and struggles.

Satisfied for the time being, He dismounts the bed and pulls a knife from His pocket, using it to cut my ankles free. Leering down at me, He pulls down His pants and leaves them pooled at His ankles, and then pulls my legs apart. Thus accomplished He clambers between my legs.

He desecrates the sanctity of my inner thighs and it's a savage, brutal moment. My feet kick helplessly at the air. My hands, trapped between my tailbone and the mattress by the cuffs, clench into fists. His hands plant on either side of my head, forcing me to either close my eyes or look up at Him while committing His vicious act. My muffled screams, the squeaking of the frame, and His own lascivious grunts all go unheard over the blaring television. When it comes time, He lowers His entire body onto me, pumping like a jackhammer, licking and biting my breasts.

Shock takes over as He dismounts. I barely notice Him sitting on the edge of the mattress smoking a cigarette; I'm completely unable to fight back when He rolls me onto my stomach, uncuffs my hands, and recuffs them over my head to the headboard.

Positioning me on my back again He lays down curls up against me. He didn't bother pulling up His pants so now He rubs himself against my leg, spreading warm goo on my thigh. I sob softly but from the feel of it, there's little time to feel sorry for myself; shortly He'll be hungry for another round.