The Game
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2008 by Amanda Pierce

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Beautiful women kidnapped. Pawns in a game for the perverted rich.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   NonConsensual   Gay   BiSexual   Heterosexual   TransGender   DomSub   Humiliation   Interracial  

As Tammy had hurried into the apartment building she had been too concerned with her groceries and the approaching storm to notice the two strangers at the end of the block. The American was blonde, big and burley weighing in at well over two hundred pounds. The man who spoke with a middle european accent was shorter, wiry, his coal black hair, hooked nose and wire rim glasses reinforcing the fact that he was in control.

"Do we handle this the usual way?" asked the American.

"Yes," was the terse answer.

"Well it won't be dark for another hour or so. I still don't see why we didn't just grab her in the supermarket parking lot."

"And call attention to ourselves and her? We got this contract for one reason: because we guaranteed discretion. She is to disappear without a trace and the note is to be left in the apartment How many times must we go over this?"

"Okay, okay. I know what the contract calls for. Got to admit, it is pretty good money and she sure is a great piece of..."

"Enough of your American crudities! We are here to procure the woman and deliver her -- nothing else!"

"Yeah, I know, but it seems a shame not to get a little of that before we ship her out."

"That is why I, and not you, am in charge here."

"Hey, Hans, lighten up. Don't tell me you haven't noticed what a great looking woman she is."

"Of course she is beautiful. That is why she was selected. But I do not allow myself to become distracted from the task at hand."

"We'll get her. We always do. To tell you the truth, I look forward to this time of year. It's fun -- snatching good looking women."

"Fun or not, we are being paid to do a job. We do it, we are paid -- well. If we fail, we may wind up in prison or, at the least, we lose all future contracts."

"Okay, Hans, I get the picture. Can't blame a guy for looking though. How about some coffee?"

"Yes, I noticed a coffee shop a block or so from here. We shall wait there until dark."

As they walked toward the coffee shop, the large blonde American thought to himself that he would say nothing to incur the ire of his partner, but when the time was right...

Tammy pulled the cake from the oven and set it on the counter to cool. She heard the clock in the hall strike nine just as a gust of wind rattled the French doors leading to the balcony. She checked to make sure they were securely shut and looked out on the city lights. The rain made everything glitter and added a surreal quality to the view. She would read a while to let the cake cool, then ice it she thought. Picking up the book she had just begun, written by an ex-network newscaster, she settled into an easy chair.

"Cameras?" asked Hans as they viewed the front of Tammy's apartment building.

"One covering the entrance, one in the lobby and one in the elevator."

"None on the individual floors."

"No. We're safe."

"Good. Now make sure you keep your face hidden."

"I know the routine, Hans. Keep my face hidden but make sure hers is in plain sight." He smiled. "And put on a show."

"Yes, you always enjoy that, don't you?"

"Why not? I consider it a bonus."

"I just hope this new drug is everything Korman says it is."

"Hey, the old stuff worked pretty well. He said this new stuff is even better."

"I would have preferred to test it myself first."

"I'm sure it'll be okay."

"The husband and daughter are not due back until tomorrow, but be careful, sometimes plans change."

"I know, Hans. Damn you're antsy."

"My being "antsy" as you put it, is why we have fulfilled no less than seven contracts without any problems." He looked around, noting the traffic and a couple of lone pedestrians. "The darkness is sufficient. Go ahead. I will come through the service entrance so I will not be seen, and meet you just outside her door."

"Gotcha," answered the American who tightened his grip on the bouquet of flowers he had purchased on the way back from the coffee shop and proceeded toward the apartment house.

Tammy frowned as she read an account of the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago. Her father had told her about the violence and the rigging of the nomination by big party bosses, but until now she had passed it off as exaggeration. However, if anything, the author was recounting events much worse than even her father had remembered. She put down the book, the disturbing images too fresh in her mind, and decided the cake was cool enough to ice.

Hans waited impatiently at the end of the hall. Where was that American oaf? He was far too independent and undisciplined. Despite the fact that they had fulfilled their contracts successfully, he was uneasy about working with what he regarded as a not-too-bright amateur. Perhaps next year he would seek another partner.

At last the elevator door opened and the muscular blonde ambled down the hall. They met just outside the Cameron apartment. Hans pressed himself flat against the wall where he would not be visible from inside the apartment and signaled for his partner to ring the doorbell.

Tammy had almost completed icing the cake when the doorbell rang. Hurrying to the door, she looked through the peephole to see a large blonde man holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Yes?" she called without opening the door.

"Flowers for a Tammy Cameron," he said looking bored.

Larry must have sent them, she thought. How sweet!

"Just leave them by the door," she called.

"Sorry, you have to sign for them."

"Uh, just a moment!" she called out, retreating to the closet and donning a robe.

She unlocked the dead bolt and had no more than slid the chain lock out of its slot than the door burst open hurling her backward to the floor. She had time only to see the large blonde and a smaller dark complexioned man enter, closing the door behind them, the smaller man holding some sort of gun. There was a "phssst" from the weapon and a slight sting in her right leg. The scream which had welled up in her throat was stifled by the large man's hand. Struggling, her kicks and flails were of little avail as the large blonde man simply put his weight on her while the smaller man began talking to her.

"Tammy, you must relax now. We are not here to hurt you. We are your friends."

Strangely, his voice was somehow reassuring. Her struggles became less energetic and she stopped kicking. Hans looked to his assistant, smiling in recognition that the new drug was indeed working as well as they had been told.

"You don't want to struggle any more, Tammy. We are your friends. Friends who know what is best for you."

Somehow, inside, Tammy knew this was wrong, that these men had just broken into her apartment, yet the words the man spoke were overwhelmingly comforting and she felt herself relax, resistance receding into the farthest corner of her mind. She shook her head as if to clear it, but by now the drug had diffused itself throughout her body and Hans' voice was in control.

"Craig will uncover your mouth now and let you up. You don't wish to cry out or resist for we are friends who want only the best for you."

"I ... I ... yes, the best for me," she repeated as the muscular American helped her to her feet, then to the couch.

Hans sat next to her, smiling warmly as he whispered in her ear. Tammy listened, spellbound by the drug, as the European continued to mesmerize her with his calm voice and convincing manner. Within a matter of minutes Tammy was putty in his hands. What vestiges of resistance there may have been were banished and she was his, willing to do anything he wished.

"Now you want to please us, don't you, Tammy?"

"Yes ... please you."

"Good! Now first I'd like you to go to your computer and write a letter."

As in a dream, she arose, went to the small computer desk, sat down and opened the word processing program.

"Now, here's what I want you to write," said Hans, and for the next few minutes he dictated while Tammy typed. There were passages that troubled her for from somewhere deep within a voice cried out that this was not true, that she must resist, but just as quickly as the voice would surface, it would be swept away by Hans' convincing voice and the complete power of the drug coursing through her body. At last it was done and Hans had her print it out. "Now sign it," he said, pointing to a pen and pencil set on the desk.

Slowly, her hand reached out, grasped the pen and, with a final urging from Hans, she signed the document.

"Wonderful, Tammy! You are doing just wonderfully! Now, do you remember Craig?"

The American smiled as she stood up and dreamily observed him, a slight frown on her face.

"I ... don't..."

"Yes, Tammy, you remember him now. You and he are lovers. You've been having an affair for months now."

" ... No, I ... I ... I..."

"Your memory is becoming clearer now, Tammy. You and Craig have planned on running away together."

"No ... I..."

"Now, Tammy. I'm your friend and friends don't lie. You believe me, don't you?"

"Yes ... of ... of course ... but..."

"Then clear your mind and focus on what I'm telling you. You are beginning to remember now. You and Craig met when you splashed water on him when you were parking your car."

"Craig?" she asked.

Tammy's mind was now in total disarray as the incident just described was actually how she and Larry had met. Hans was mixing reality with fiction to add to the effect of the drug.

"Yes, don't you remember? You offered to let him come into your apartment to dry off. You made coffee. Then what happened, Tammy?"

"We ... we kissed."

 
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