Catherine, Kidnapped

by Lance C

Copyright© 2017 by Lance C

Erotica Sex Story: Snatched off the street, Catherine learns to deal with a horny psychopath.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Rape   Heterosexual   Fiction   Rough   Cream Pie   .

Catherine was terrified. She’d been on her regular morning run when a city maintenance van blocked part of the street and most of the running path ahead of her. Catherine swung to the right, intending to run past. Too late, she saw the open door on the side of the van and the two men in stocking masks. One of them jumped in front of her and pinned her arms while the second man slapped a cloth over her face. Within seconds, she was unconscious.

Now, Catherine was in a chair with her eyes covered. Her arms and legs were bound to the chair. It took her several seconds to realize that she was wearing headphones and that she was hearing the sound track from “My Fair Lady”. A man with a Cockney accent was singing about getting married in the morning. Catherine shook her head violently, but neither the headset or whatever was over her eyes would move. She tried to call for help, but there was something plastered across her mouth. She began to hyperventilate.

The man known as “Bob” closed the notebook computer and smiled at his two partners. “That’s it, then. The money’s been transferred. Everybody has his cut. You guys can hit the road. I’ll baby-sit our little princess and finish up when you’ve had time to get clear.”

“Wow,” said the partner who’d driven the van. “That was the quickest payoff in history. We grabbed her at 7:05 and got paid by 8:50.”

“Told you so,” said Bob happily. “All we had to do was present it like a straight business deal. We had what he wanted, it was for sale and he had the ready cash. The critical part was not giving him time to think.”

The three shook hands. “You can take off,” said Bob. “I’ll make contact with the mark and I’ll handle the wife, just that way we planned.”

Bob sat, sipped from a glass of apple juice and watched a video link on the computer until he was sure his partners were in their cars and gone. Then he placed the computer on a folding aluminum TV tray, pulled on a short dark wig and a thin stocking mask, walked to the bedroom door and opened it. He carried the TV tray into the room and set it near Catherine.

Catherine was sitting right where he’d left her; not surprising, since she was duct-taped to the heavy oak chair. Bob closed the door and, using a pair of wire cutters, snipped the plastic cable tie holding the headphones in place. He pulled them off. “Hi, Catherine,” he said quietly. “You can call me Bob.”

Catherine heard a faint snap and the headphones disappeared, along with Julie Andrews’ voice. She tried to talk, but nothing came out except for muffled grunts.

“Just take it easy,” said Bob. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’ve been kidnapped. Your husband has paid your ransom. I’m going to call him in a minute and let you talk to him, but first we have to get a few things straight. Let me get this blindfold off.”

Catherine felt the man unclip something behind her head and then she was blinking at the light. The man standing in front of her was holding an ordinary sleep mask. He was around average height and appeared to weight about 170 pounds, none of it fat. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and a stocking mask that distorted his features. He was a white man and had dark brown or black hair, otherwise there was nothing to distinguish him from millions of other American males.

Bob dropped the sleep mask, the headphones and the attached iPod into a paper bag and smiled. “Now then, that’s better. I’ll take the tape off your mouth when we get ready for the phone call. Before we get to that, I want to tell you what happened.”

Bob took a step back and sat on a cheap metal folding chair. “We snatched you a little after 7 this morning. It’s almost 9 now. We called your husband and told him we had you. We told him what you were wearing, right down to the engraving inside your wedding ring and your bra size. We made a quick deal. He transferred money to numbered accounts and we verified the transfers. All quick and clean.”

Catherine thought, bra size? She looked down and saw that she was wearing a baggy zip-up sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off. She couldn’t feel any other clothes. Had her kidnappers seen her naked? At least her wedding ring was on her left hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Bob. “We took your clothes. After you get a shower, you can put on clean ones. There’s a limited selection in the corner.” He pointed across the room.

For the first time, Catherine was able to take her eyes off Bob and see what was in the room. To her left was a double bed complete with sheets, a blanket and three pillows. A small flat-screen TV hung on the wall next to the bed. Below the TV was a night-light, plugged into a standard outlet.

On the bed was a length of light-weight chain that ran off the side of the bed to the right. A shorter length of chain was attached to the center of the headboard. In the far corner of the room was a built-in shelf holding four piles of clothing. In the middle of the wall across from her was an open shower stall with a stack of towels on a cardboard stand. Next to the shower was a toilet. There was no sink. An ordinary interior door was set into the wall to her right. A large office clock hung over the door with a video security camera mounted next to it. There were no windows.

She looked back at Bob. “See,” he said. “All cozy.”

Catherine glared at Bob. He laughed.

“You’re pissed. I don’t blame you. Not much you can do about it, though.” He stood up, reached into his pocket and came out with a cell phone. “I’m going to call your husband and let you talk to him. Now, I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you, but if you say anything except that you haven’t been hurt, he’s going to hear you scream. Don’t talk about where you think you are or how many people took you. Don’t speculate. You can do the whole, ‘I love you, I want to come home’ business. I don’t care about that. Just keep it general and you’ll be fine. Before you say anything, think to yourself, is this going to piss Bob off? If the answer is yes or maybe, don’t say it. Are we clear?”

Catherine nodded. Bob gently peeled the piece of duct tape off her mouth and hit a speed dial button on the phone. When he heard the first ring, he punched the “speaker” button.

“Hello, hello?”

“Mr. Collins, this is Bob. I have Catherine here. Say hi, Catherine.”

“Jason, can you hear me?”

“Catherine, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Catherine glanced at Bob. “I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me. Did you pay them?”

“Yeah. No problem with the money. Bob said they’d release you. Bob? Where can I find her?”

Bob brought the phone closer to his face. “First things first, Mr. Collins. Honestly, you really ought to throw out that old Harvard T-shirt you’re wearing. It’s an embarrassment, even around the house.”

“What?,” said Collins. “You can see me?”

“That’s right,” said Bob. “Your house is wired for video and audio. I’m watching the feed right now.” He turned the computer so that Catherine could see the screen. “Tell him what you see, Catherine.”

“Jason, I can see you. You’re in the den.”

“And,” continued Bob, “your whole house is wired, including the garage. The audio is terrific. I could hear what you were whispering to Catherine last night while she was blowing you. Very sexy. But back to business.”

“If you contact the cops, I’ll know it. In that case, our deal is off. I’ll run a cable tie around Catherine’s neck and yank it tight. While she’s strangling, she’ll have time to think about how you got her killed.”

“As far as finding her, it’s not a matter of where right now, it’s a matter of when.”

Collins sputtered. “What do you mean? I paid what you asked. You said you’d let her go. What are you doing?”

“Slow down,” said Bob. “I have to give some people time to get where they’re going. I’ll release Catherine about 8PM on Saturday, the day after tomorrow. Believe me, I don’t want to be involved in a murder. That sort of thing attracts attention. You’ll just have to be patient and let this play out. Catherine’s going to be fine, as long as she cooperates with me. I have no intention of hurting her. She’s got a bed and a bathroom and clean clothes. I’ll feed her well. There’s a TV in the room. She’ll mostly be bored, but she’ll be healthy, that is, as long as she does as she’s told. That won’t take much. She just needs to behave herself and not cause trouble for me.”

Bob smiled and winked at Catherine.

“In the meantime, I’ll be watching you. If you make a phone call or take a phone call, I’ll know it. If you leave the house, I’ll know it. If anyone comes to the door, I’ll see who they are and hear what you say to them. Turn off your computers and your smart phone. You stay loose and everything will be fine. You’ll be able to talk to Catherine twice a day on the land line, at 8AM and 8PM. You’ll be on speaker and I’ve told her to keep the conversation general. Don’t ask detailed questions. You’ll get all the details you need when she gets home.

Now, you two can talk a little. I’ll be right here.”

Bob sat quietly and listened to the man and woman talk. The conversation was wholly predictable. Bob was bored and eager to get to the next step.

When they started repeating themselves for the fourth time, Bob cut them off. “We’ll call tonight at 8,” he said and hung up. Bob dropped the phone into his pocket. He sat on his chair and looked at Catherine.

“Okay, that’s out of the way. Now, there’s another thing we have to talk about, and I think we’ll need this.” He picked up the strip of duct tape from where he’d dropped it and placed it over Catherine’s mouth. Her eyes widened in fear.

“That’s just so you won’t interrupt me. I’m going to tell you some things you won’t want to hear and I’m not going to argue with you.”

Bob sat back and crossed his ankles.

“First, you need to know that I’m a psychopath. I’m pretty smart, but I don’t have any empathy. On an intellectual level, I know you have feelings, but I’m not capable of identifying with your feelings. They don’t matter to me. I’m not psychotic, but I am a psychopath. To me, you’re an intelligent object that talks. Your needs and emotions only matter if I can use them to get what I want.”

Catherine was having trouble understanding what Bob was getting at. He was a psycho? And he knew it? Why tell her? What was he leading up to?

“You’re going to be here,” Bob continued, “for another fifty-odd hours. Getting this kidnapping organized and completed has taken quite a while, and I haven’t had the chance to get laid in that time. I won’t get any pussy while you’re here unless I get it from you. So, I’m going to rape you. Repeatedly.”

Now, Catherine was in a full-blown panic. The idea of being raped horrified her.

“The next thing you need to know is, I always keep my word. I’ve told you and your husband that I wasn’t going to hurt you, as long as you did as you were told. I’ll keep that promise, but you have to hold up your end, too. I’m not a Sadist. I don’t get off on causing pain. I’m going to fuck you, but I’ll do it in a way that doesn’t do any damage.” Bob leaned forward. “That is, as long as you don’t resist. If you resist, if you fight me, you’re going to suffer.”

Bob sat back and smiled. “You can go home healthy and without a mark, or you can go home beat to shit and in pain. I don’t have any desire to hurt you. I’d rather do this the easy way, but in the end, it’s up to you.”

Bob stood up. “I’m going to let you think about that for ten or fifteen minutes. When I come back, I’ll take the tape off. If you say anything except, ‘I won’t resist’, you’re going to be in for a world of pain. Don’t argue. Don’t plead. Don’t beg. Don’t try to negotiate. Just tell me what I want to hear.”

Bob opened the door, put the paper bag on the TV tray next to the computer, picked up the tray and left.

In the kitchen, Bob peeled off the mask and wig and got a yoghurt out of the refrigerator. He sat at the table watching Jason Collins as he ate. The feed wasn’t exciting. After fifteen minutes had passed, he took off his shirt and jeans and pulled on a pair of cargo shorts. Then he put the wig and mask on, picked up a small black object and a pair of handcuffs and went to see his prisoner.

Catherine jumped when the door opened. She’d been crying and her face was swollen and blotchy. Bob sat across from her and held up a small device she didn’t recognize. He pushed a button on the side and the thing emitted a loud, snapping sound and a bright, scary spark.

“This,” Bob told her, “is a stun gun. It puts out fifteen million volts. It’ll hurt like hell and paralyze you for a couple of minutes. I’m going to take that tape off and if I don’t hear those three magic words, I’m going to zap the crap out of you. Then I’m going to cut that sweatshirt off and rape you. Make no mistake, I’m going to rape you anyway, but whether that rape involves pain is your decision. Clear?”

Catherine nodded. Bob pulled the tape off. Catherine took a deep, shaky breath and said, “I won’t resist”.

Bob grinned. “Well, isn’t that good. That’s just fine. You sit tight for a minute and I’ll get you prepared.” He walked to the bed and pulled the end of the chain over to Catherine. He looped it around her neck, fastening it with a small padlock. It wasn’t tight enough to be uncomfortable, but there was no way the loop would go over her head. Bob sat on his chair and, using a box cutter from his pocket, he cut through the front of the sweatshirt from the arm holes to the neckline. The front of the sweatshirt sagged very unfashionably. He snapped a handcuff onto Catherine’s right wrist, and then, using the box cutter, he cut her left arm free and cuffed it to her right. After that, he cut her right arm and both legs free. “Go ahead and get that tape off,” he told her. Her arms and legs were bare, and the tape had been on long enough to be hard to remove. Catherine managed to get the tape off, but she was hampered by her efforts to keep her breasts covered. She was surprised at how good it felt to be untied. Except for the handcuffs and the chain, that is.

Bob folded his chair and leaned it against the wall next to the door. Catherine’s face was wet with tears and she had an irresistible urge to wipe it. Instinctively, she used the hem of her sweatshirt, remembering too late that she was nude under it. Bob grinned.

“I’ve already seen you naked, Catherine, and I’m going to see you naked again in about a minute. I’ll show you how this is going to work. Go sit on the foot of the bed.” Catherine didn’t move.

Bob hit the button on the stun gun, making Catherine flinch. “You said you wouldn’t resist. That means you’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you. Hesitation is the same as resistance. Either way, I’m going to zap you.”

Holding the ruined sweatshirt against her chest, Catherine walked unsteadily to the foot of the bed and sat down.

“Unzip that sweatshirt and take it off,” Bob told her. Catherine hesitated for only a second before reaching for the zipper tab. She pulled it down and shrugged out of the sweatshirt. Bob took it from her and tossed it on the floor. Tears dripped off Catherine’s nose and chin.

“Good,” said Bob. “Now lay back and stretch your arms straight out. I want your ass right at the end of the bed.”

Feeling totally helpless, Catherine dropped onto her back and reached toward the headboard. Bob pulled the end of the short chain attached to the headboard to the links holding her cuffs together and connected them with a lock. Catherine was left naked and exposed, her legs hanging over the foot of the bed, her feet on the floor.

Bob walked to the foot of the bed. “Open your legs.” Catherine spread her thighs.

“Nice looking pussy you have there,” Bob said softly. Catherine was completely waxed and smooth. Bob ran his fingers across the lips of her vagina and slipped his middle finger into her. Catherine turned her head to the side and sobbed. With his other hand, Bob fondled her breasts. “Real nice tits, too.” One at a time, he checked the crease under each breast. “You can hardly see the scars where they put in the implants. Good job. Just the right size.”

As Bob fingered Catherine, she could feel herself getting wet. “Your body’s betraying you,” he said in a low voice. “You don’t want me to fuck you, but your pussy has a mind of its own. It feels like you’re about ready. Put your legs up.” Catherine raised her knees. Bob unsnapped his shorts and kicked them off, revealing a hard, thick cock. He stepped between her legs and rubbed the head of his cock against her. Catherine cried and whipped her head back and forth. Bob paid no attention. He pushed his cock past her lips and into her.

“Oh, that’s nice. Just what I need.” Bob began fucking the helpless woman. He supported himself by bracing both hands on her breasts. “Mmmm. My first rape. Never could see the appeal, but it’s not bad at all. Don’t have to deal with any conversation, just tie her down and fuck her.” Bob’s rhythm got quicker. He squeezed her breasts and fucked her hard. Catherine cried louder.

Bob stopped. He took his right hand off her breast and slapped her face. It wasn’t much of a slap, but Catherine had never been slapped in her life. Her parents hadn’t believed in spanking and the kids she’d gone to school with had been from rich families like hers. They hadn’t been violent. The slap was a shock.

“Shut up,” growled Bob. “You’re distracting me. You don’t like being raped? Tough shit! Put a lid on the damn crying. You keep pissing me off and I’m going to hit you with the stun gun.”

Catherine choked back her sobs and fought to control herself. Bob gave her a few seconds and then went back to raping her.

Bob had been pretty sure the first time he fucked this woman would be less than satisfactory. He’d studied human behavior all his life, especially after, in the 8th grade, he’d figured out that he was a psychopath. He did his best to ignore Catherine’s crying and the ugly faces she was making. He decided to just fuck her and cum quickly the first time. It took him less than five minutes to finish.

Catherine almost started crying openly again when she felt Bob cum inside her. She thought about the stun gun and controlled herself. Soon, Bob straightened up and pulled out of her.

“That’s the last time I’m going to put up with your shit,” he said in a menacing voice. “I’m going to unhook you now and I want you to take a shower. Get cleaned up. Pick out some clothes and get dressed. I’ll bring you some lunch at noon.” He picked up his shorts. “Figure out a way to stay calm. You’re very attractive, very sexy. When you’re crying, you’re not sexy at all and I only want to fuck sexy women. If you’re acting all upset, you’ll spoil my pleasure and I won’t stand for that. I’ll zap you and keep zapping you until you learn to do what I want. Remember, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your feelings. I’m perfectly willing to give you as much agony as it takes to get what I want.” He unlocked the lock holding her handcuffs to the chain. “Stay right there for a minute.” Bob locked the padlock onto the chain and hung it on a hook that was screwed into the headboard. He walked to the heavy chair where Catherine had been bound. “Stand up and come over here.”

Catherine got up. The chain around her neck was attached to a steel ring set into the floor next to the bed. The chain would allow her to get within about four feet of the door. Bob was almost at the door. She walked as far as she could without choking herself.

“Hold out your hands,” said Bob. Catherine held them out and Bob unlocked the handcuffs. He hung them on a coat hook on the door.

“Okay,” said Bob. “You can go anywhere in this room, but you can’t get to the door. There aren’t any tools in here. I set this room up carefully. There’s a video camera right there, so I can watch what you do. You can’t cause any trouble, so don’t try. The TV remote is on the headboard. I’ll see you at noon.”

Bob left. Catherine heard a deadbolt slide home. Bob was careful, all right. She couldn’t get to the door and he locked it anyway.

Catherine was desperate for a shower. She’d run 3 ½ miles before they’d taken her and then she’d been raped by that psycho son-of-a-bitch. She was a sweaty, sticky mess. She walked to the shower, flipping the chain like an old-time singer with a microphone cord. The hot water came on fast. She adjusted the temperature and got under the spray.

Catherine had always loved sex. She’d started young and had several lovers and many casual sex partners before she met her husband in college. She and Jason had invited friends and former lovers for threesomes and group sex many times before and after they got married. They might not be “swingers”, but they were close. She’d spread her legs for dozens of men, given head and enjoyed men and women going down on her. At age 28, she was certainly no stranger to sex, but this was nothing like what she was used to. Before, she’d always had a choice. She could say no, but she almost never did. She and Jason had made a deal early on. If one of them wanted to have sex or party with friends, the other one would go along. There were a few times when one of them had been sick or having a serious problem, otherwise, they were both ready all the time. Catherine could remember fucking guys or sucking them off when she really wasn’t in the mood. She was going to have to get into that mindset, big-time. If she didn’t, she knew Bob was going to make her life hell.

There was a pump bottle of anti-bacterial soap and another of drugstore shampoo on a recessed shelf. A loofah and an old fashioned douche bag hung from the shower head. Bob really had thought of everything. Catherine had never used a bag like that, but there was no mystery about how it worked. After she’d washed her hair and body, she filled the bag and hosed out her vagina. Then she did it again. She was constantly aware of the camera and aware of Bob watching her. She kept her back to the camera as much as possible, knowing it was futile. Bob was probably amused. Well, fuck him.

In the living room, Bob smiled at Catherine’s attempts to hide her body. He had a 32” TV dedicated to the security camera in her room. Next to it was an identical TV showing her husband. Of the two, Bob thought Catherine was handling it the best and she was the one getting raped. Good for her, thought Bob. Maybe he wouldn’t have to zap her after all.

Catherine checked the clock and saw that it was almost 10:00. She toweled off, went to the corner and picked up the first pile of clothing on the right. She wanted to put something on and she didn’t much care what it was. It turned out to be a pair of yellow bicycle pants and a dark blue shirt that buttoned up the front. There was no underwear. With her back to the camera, Catherine pulled on the pants and slipped into the shirt. The pants fit her well enough, but the shirt was too tight across the bust. She left the four top buttons unbuttoned, exposing a lot of cleavage. She was sure Bob had deliberately given her a shirt that was too tight, just to mess with her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her root through the rest of the clothes looking for a better fit. She pushed her breasts up and together, accentuating her cleavage. Fuck Bob. And the horse he rode in on.

Exactly at noon, Bob opened the door. He brought in the TV tray holding a tuna sandwich on rye, a fruit cup and a plastic glass of red wine. Apparently, he’d been watching long enough to know what Catherine liked for lunch. Bob set the tray near the heavy chair and left without a word.

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