American Princess
Copyright© 2025 by Wolf
Chapter 20: Kidnapped
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 20: Kidnapped - Princess ‘Carrie’ Caroline disappears, but for Jim she becomes a visitor who captures his heart. They start their adventures, dodging the public, authorities, and then abductors. Her new life sex, swinging, polyamory, and some wild parties, all while building a new career. The princess, Jim, and new friends fall in love and enjoy unusual experiences and adventures. Much sex.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Celebrity Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Royalty
We’d gotten Carrie a Range Rover for her to drive around in. Despite resolving the green card issue, she kept irregular hours at the TV station, where she hadn’t been getting paid until she got her green card. Some days, she’d use one of the local libraries or work online at home doing research for a TV special or for a proposal for one. Additionally, two afternoons a week, Carrie connected with Jerry who put her through self-protection, martial arts, and handgun training.
I also started to travel more for my work, but it was usually within the Boston-Washington corridor, and often by train. My company had a new client outside of Wilmington, so I’d take the Amtrak there occasional mornings and return home at or after dinner. Usually, I only had to spend a day a week working with my team and the user team on the requirements documents for my client’s new system. Occasionally, when my schedule was questionable, I’d drive to Wilmington, although I couldn’t work in the car the way I could on the train.
About three months after our wedding, I got home from Wilmington about eight o’clock. Marjorie met me at the door, and she looked concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Carrie. She’s not here, and I’ve tried to call her a dozen times.”
I pulled out my cellphone and dialed her number. The call shunted right into voice mail. I told Marjorie, “Well, either she’s turned it off, or the battery has died. She’s done this with her phone before.”
“Yes, but she’s been home at the regular time. There’s no indication she’s been here since breakfast.”
I hesitated about ten seconds, thinking through the situation.
I then dialed Jerry and put him on the speaker. When he answered, “Jerry, we have a problem – maybe. I need your advice. It’s after eight, and unless one of us is traveling, we’re always home by now. Carrie isn’t home, no word from her, and her phone is either off or immediately goes into voice mail. It’s not like her to not let us know what’s happening.”
Jerry asked, “Where’d she work today?”
Marjorie responded, “She was going to work around here, either at home or the local library.”
A long silence ensued.
Jerry said, “Drive to the library before they close and see if she’s there or if they saw her. Look for her car. Don’t touch or disturb anything if you find it. If that doesn’t yield results, go to the police and report her missing. They won’t want to take the report for another two days, but tell them anyway. I’ll be at your house in about an hour. Call me if you have anything to report.”
I scrambled into my car and raced to the library. They closed at nine o’clock. I got there with about ten minutes to spare.
I raced through the library, checking the carrels, and the places Carrie usually sat. When that didn’t pay off, I asked one librarian after another if they’d seen her. Since she was so well known, they usually remembered if she’d been in.
An older white-haired woman said, “Yes, she was here early this afternoon, but then she disappeared, maybe around two o’clock.”
“Could you please check the ladies’ rooms and be sure they’re empty ... that she didn’t take ill.” A few minutes later the three women who had gone off reported back that everything appeared normal in those quarters.
I went out and wandered around the few cars in the parking lot, and then checking the spaces on the street.
Carrie’s car was parked on the street about two hundred yards from the library, not unusual if she showed up midday when the area and library were busiest.
I had a spare key, but I didn’t use it. If there were fingerprints, I didn’t want to disturb them. Looking into the car with a flashlight, everything looked normal, except I didn’t see the small portfolio that Carrie used to keep her notes with her.
I walked the shortest distance between the library and her car, and then discovered some very bad news.
Tossed into some bushes just inside the library property I saw a mass of papers, and the brown leather of Carrie’s portfolio. I picked up a couple of pieces of paper, and sure enough they were in her handwriting.
I pulled my phone and called Marjorie. I told her what I’d found. She’d been waiting to hear from me before calling the police. She cried. I asked her to call Jerry and said that I’d call the police.
The desk sergeant listened carefully to my description of our situation. Like many in our community, he knew of Princess Caroline’s new life in our community. He promised prompt action, and while I was on the line, he dispatched two detectives to where I stood.
Five minutes later, Detectives Paul Trevor and Chris Glenberry pulled up. I didn’t want anybody to disturb the area where the portfolio lay. They took a couple of photos with their cellphones, and then fished the portfolio and the rest of the papers from the bushes. They were wearing nitrile gloves and handled things in a way to preserve fingerprints on the slick leather.
A quick examination showed no obvious signs of foul play, yet something was wrong.
Jerry arrived. He immediately introduced himself to the man and woman detectives, and established a rapport with them.
Together we walked to Carrie’s car. I used the remote and unlocked the car. Trevor used a key to pop the door open without leaving any prints on the car. We checked around the car, but everything looked normal. Glenberry called to have the car impounded as evidence and also to get it swiped for fingerprints.
We all walked the neighborhood looking for anything unusual, but there was nothing that I saw that stood out from the normal. As we walked, I called home and brought Marjorie up to speed on things. She was crying, obviously worried and afraid for my wife and her lover.
Marjorie called me back about ten o’clock. I’d gone to police headquarters with the detectives to talk about next steps. She had an idea. “Jim, ask the police about putting out a TV picture of her, and a short announcement that she’s missing. We could get several million people looking for her. There’s time to make the late news.”
I put the phone on speaker, and then did introductions of Marjorie to the two detectives. She described her idea again. They liked it, although I could tell they were a little squeamish about losing control of the situation.
Marjorie ended the call after their tacit approval.
The folks from the crime lab called the detectives about ten forty-five. They’d been all over the car, comparing the prints on it to Carrie, Marjorie, or me, and seeing if any others showed up.
I listened to Glenberry talking to them. They’d obviously found something interesting, specifically, several prints around the driver’s door handle outside the car belonging to a somewhat-known, two-bit thief named Eddie Romaine.
The two detectives bid me goodnight, and they headed off to pay Mr. Romaine a visit. They promised they would let me know the outcome of their visit. As I met Jerry in the hallway, I heard the detectives arranging for two squad cars to accompany them on their midnight visit in the metropolitan area.
Jerry drove me back to the library where I retrieved my car. He followed me as I drove home.
Marjorie was still up pacing. From the pile on the counter, I could tell she’d used up about a hundred Kleenex, crying and worrying about Carrie.
I asked, “Did you broadcast anything?”
“Yes, I recorded it. Let me show you. I got Norma Senuk, the late news anchor, to make a statement.”
Marjorie went to our TV and after touching the remote a few times, the commentator appeared on the TV. She said, “In another news item, the family of well-known celebrity Carrie Westerly, otherwise known as Princess Caroline, has again disappeared, and her family is worried. Foul play is suspected based on clues near the Clarksville Library. If you have any information about the Princess’s whereabouts, you are urged to call 911 and report your information to the local police.” A photo of Carrie with her new look was shown.
I shook my head. “I hope this helps.”
Jerry, Marjorie, and I settled into the living room, each taking a chair or the sofa, and trying to nap as we waited to see if we’d hear anything.