Chapter 26: Home Life II

Brad and Mark became better friends when Mark let Brad get a blowjob from his fourteen-year-old step-daughter. At the same time, Mark had taken his fifteen-year-old step-daughter’s cherry and lucky Brad got to have lucky seconds. The best part- both young girls had done it willingly, even eagerly. Doing whatever their stepdad said always allowed them unlimited credit at any store.

When Mark and Brad were around other guys, it was always sports or current events; never a word about sex with the young girls. About three weeks after Brad had gotten laid by the two young girls, he decided he needed to return the favor somehow. He wasn’t married; never had been. Most women thought he was ‘that creepy guy who likes working for the sewer department.’ So, no girlfriends or even female acquaintances. When he got blown by a fourteen-year-old, and then fucked her older sister. He just had to do something in return. Finally, he got an idea; formulated a plan.

At the bar one night, a lot of the regulars were there watching the NFL on Sunday night. Brad took Mark aside, told him he had an idea, and could Brad come by his place next Saturday? Mark asked what was it about, but Brad just said he couldn’t discuss it here. Saturday, 8PM. Mark agreed.

The week went by slowly for Brad. It was Friday, and his plan had better work. He knew of a local high school nearby. A big place, yet close to many neighborhoods, so there was a lot of foot traffic. Brad was a geek in that he was big into video. He had built a video camera rig that you could put on a telephone pole and control remotely. He put two near the school. Nobody seemed to give him a second glance. He watched the cameras every day at 4 o’clock when the kids left school. He taped each day; played it over and over. He noticed one girl. Blonde, junior or senior. Always came out near the end, always walked by herself, always the same way- to camera 1, then down the alley behind the QuikTrip. This would be his opportunity. He waited in the alley on Friday at 4pm. Sure enough, here came the same girl. He poured the chemical onto the rag, holding it outside so as not to breathe it himself. As she was about to walk by, he casually got out, moved to the front of his car, like he was trying to open the hood. The girl walked by behind him. Brad turned, jumped over and jammed the rag into the girl’s face. She cried out, leaped, then started to struggle, and just as quickly went limp right there. Oh shit, he hadn’t thought about that; her going limp was a minor glitch though. He held onto her and pulled her to the car, put her in the back seat. He took his duct tape and taped her wrists, her ankles and her mouth. As he did, he got his first good look at her. She looked like she was maybe 17 or 18. Quite short, her hair was brown, below her shoulders. Cute, round face with a little nose. Average tits it looked like. Thin, short legs. Really short skirt. He got a good upskirt view once. Lots of upper thigh. He closed the door, got in the driver’s seat and left as calmly as he could. He got to his home about twenty minutes later. He pulled in the garage, closed the door, then got out and opened the car’s back door.

Mandy Ann Folsom was an 18-year-old schoolgirl alright. She was in the 12th grade now, still in the band playing the violin. She figured that was why she never seemed to get asked out on dates. A couple of times, but they never went beyond two dates each. Her friend Trisha said it was because she looked like the guys’ younger sister. Mandy did look young for her age. Her short height, barely 4’ 10”, and 88 pounds made her look young. Having smaller breasts didn’t help things. Her body was making hormones now as well. When she looked online and saw other girls in sexy outfits, she wondered what it was like. Her mom wouldn’t let her wear her short-shorts to school, just this skirt and polo shirt that made her look twelve! The skirt was so short, you always had to be careful how you sat down or knelt. She was barely beyond the training bra size, and yet her nipples always were rubbing on her stupid shirt and then poking out. For now, she learned how to hold her books and arms in front of her.

Mandy Folsom lived close by and so walked to and from school every day. On Friday, as she walked down the alley, a man suddenly grabbed her from behind, putting a rag over her face. She panicked, tried to fight, but then everything just went blank. Whatever had just happened, was over in seconds.

As Mandy started to come around, she couldn’t see a thing; there was some sort of mask over her head. Someone was pulling her out of a car. If she looked down as far as she could, she could just see a tiny bit out the bottom of this mask. She tried to focus; everything was still a fog. She noticed her wrists were taped together behind her. She started to struggle against it, panic setting in. Then she noticed her ankles were tied and her mouth had tape over it, too. She began to really freak out. The person pulling her backward was making sounds like a man. He was big it seemed; he pulled her easily. She couldn’t see him. She was just 18, so he must be a big grown-up man she thought. He was pulling her out of a car it felt like, now backing up, pulling her along behind him. She tried to do something, anything, but she just couldn’t hardly move. She screamed into the tape, telling him to let her go, screaming again. He dragged her through a door, then down some stairs to a basement she guessed. She tried to force the mask off, then thought wait, maybe she’d better not. She was scared to death. She didn’t know what was going to happen next.

Brad looked at the clock. 4:45 PM. Good. So far, so good. He dragged the girl into the house, down the stairs, dragging her alongside him. In the basement, he turned on the light. She still had the mask on; still seemed secured. He pulled her over to a corner where he had a little stage set up. A small bed served as the stage, with chairs next to it. Above the bed was a rope hanging down from the ceiling. It went through a pulley and was tied to a post behind. From the pulley, hung the end of the rope with a pair of handcuffs attached.

Brad pulled the girl over to the bed. He pushed her onto it; told her to stand up. She did, with a lot of effort, her ankles still taped together. He grabbed the handcuffs, put them on her wrists, then cut the tape off. With her legs still taped, she couldn’t go anywhere. Brad stepped back, went to the wall, turned out the light and turned on a spotlight that pointed down right at where she was standing. He pulled the rope, pulling her arms over her head, her hair all a mess. He’d fix that. She appeared unhurt. She kept twisting, making sounds into the tape. He picked up a brush; went up to her, stood close to her side. He got close, smelling her scent. She froze, not sure what was happening, yelling into the tape for him to let her go or something. He could tell she was scared; and mad as hell, too. He licked her cheek once. She jerked away. When he started to brush her hair, despite her twisting around he got her hair looking pretty good. He stood back. She appeared to be younger than he thought. Her tits aren’t very big. He asked how old she was. She answered, but he couldn’t understand her. “Fifteen?” She shook her head. “Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen?” On eighteen she nodded, then resumed yelling into the tape. She was crying a lot, too. He took a few pictures, turned out the light, went upstairs.

Around 7:30, Brad went down into the basement again. He took the girl down, using a second pair of handcuffs. He led her to the downstairs bathroom, showed her where the toilet was. He said hurry up and use it, and make sure you wipe yourself really clean. He yanked her skirt down, then her panties, made her feel around and sit down. He kept her there for almost twenty minutes with her mask on. When it sounded like she was done, he pulled her up, pulled her panties and skirt up, then put her back on the rope, hands over her head again. He turned out the light; went upstairs.

A few minutes after eight, Mark drove up. He came to the door; Brad met him there. “Get a baby sitter?” Brad asked.

“Nah,” said Mark. “I just put Cindy in charge. Usually works.”

Brad said, “Well, my man, get ready for some fun. The other night at your place, with the girls? Well, this is how we play at my house.”

Mark wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but followed him down the stairs to the basement. Near the bottom, Brad said, “Check this out.” A moment later, he flipped a switch and the spotlight came on, pointing right at Mandy. She still stood there, hands over her head, mask on, taped mouth and ankles. Mark stared. She was a schoolgirl it looked like. She looked young; maybe 16? She was small. He finally spoke.

“So, uh, she can’t see us, huh?”

“Nope, not even a little,” Brad said, smiling. “She’s authentic, too. A real, honest-to-God, eighteen-year-old schoolgirl. Straight from Edwards High School. We got until around 3, then I gotta go drop her off at a camp down by the river. But ‘till then, she’s all ours.”

Mark was stunned. Rape an unknown, innocent school girl? This was something entirely new. His own daughters were one thing. This though; this was, well, erotic. He stared at the girl. Nice brunette hair. Cute face. She was short. “Did you say 18?” he asked. Brad said yep. Gorgeous little legs and a very short blue skirt. A white polo shirt. With her arms up over her head, it was hard to tell if she had any tits. Certainly not like his Cindy’s. More like Heather’s. Her innocent looks, it all added up to one huge boner.

The two smoked some dope; made the girl eat three gummy pot bears, retaped her mouth shut. She’d feel that in about half an hour! With a couple of beers, they both walked up to the girl. Brad spoke.

“Listen up! I’m gonna take this tape off your mouth. When I do, you keep quiet, you hear? Not a scream, not a question, not a single fucking word. You understand me, girl?” he asked angrily, gripping her face. She was shaking now, and nodded her head. Brad went on. “Also, you gonna keep that mask on, you hear? If you don’t see us, we’ll let you go in a little while. You’ll be ok then. But you let that mask come off, even for a second, then we’re gonna have to kill you, so you can’t identify us. You understand that, bitch? We’ll fucking kill you!” He talked through gritted teeth, angry, slapping her face once. She nodded, crying, making pleading sounds into the tape. Brad growled at her; “Don’t you fucking forget!” He got ahold of one corner of the tape and ripped it quickly from her mouth. She winched with the pain, started to babble as she wanted to talk but was afraid to say anything. She kept her head tilted down, not wanting to see anything, her eyes tightly closed.

Mark held up his hand, stepped up. He leaned in close to her ear, within an inch. She didn’t even know he was there till he suddenly barked, “Hey!” at her. She jumped some when he did, arms still overhead. “How old are you, baby girl?”

She somehow managed to squeak out “eigh, eigh, eighteen...” The two men made laughing sounds, saying things like “No fucking way,” and “Fucking amazing.” Mark asked her name. She replied, Mandy. She was really wondering why did they want to know these things? Oh God, oh God, this might be like what they talked about in school. They might want to have sex with her. “God, no, please,” she thought to herself. She quietly squeaked out, “Please, don’t hurt me, please...”