Before starting it is important to note that many of the names used by this author are the same from story to story. This does not mean that they are the continuation of another story. It is just easier for me to type certain words. Jenny, Jenn, Joe, Stephanie, Steph, etc. are just easier for me to type than others. That is why so many of these stories are using the same names. Read the blog and you may also understand why many of my descriptions of "Jenny" are the same. She is somewhat of my fantasy recently.

Jenny was somewhat excited and somewhat fearful; thankful of finally being able to talk the family into a much needed vacation away from their busy life, and somewhat fearful or anxious about being in another unusual place. A few years ago, they had taken a trip through Europe, staying at the Hostels in France, Spain, Italy and Portugal. It was nice for their daughter Stephanie, because she made lots of friends. She and her husband, Joe, had met some fascinating people from around the world.

Somebody had recommended a primitive setting in Canada. They had never been camping there before, and the Peace River, McKenzie River, and the Great Slave Lake had been recommended.

Jenny had Goggled the area looking for more information. She had found a bush pilot that would fly them into a remote area, leave them there for a couple of weeks, and fly them back out at a prearranged time. Their fourteen-year-old daughter, Stephanie, was not excited about it. She would be away from all her friends for a whole week. There was questionable television reception, cell phone coverage and no teenage entertainment.

Jenny felt this would be an ideal situation. She and her daughter could go out on longer jogs a couple of times a day. Stephanie would not be losing out on her time away from the cross country team summer voluntary workouts. Jenny ran that much anyway, and it would be nice to do it with her daughter.

The small single engine plane drifted down out of the clouds. Suddenly they were above the lake, and the pontoons on the plane smacked and bounced a couple of times before gliding across the mirrored surface. The pilot turned and headed towards the shore. They stopped in a few feet of water, and were forced to wade through the ice-cold water with their supplies.

The cabin was exquisite. It was a cedar log cabin about 24 feet on a side with about twelve feet to the eave. There was a large front porch. Once inside, Stephanie squealed and almost ran up the ladder. The main floor had a long double height living and dining area. Behind the living area, were the bath, kitchen and main bedroom. Above the kitchen/bath/bed area was a loft with a ladder to it. Stephanie had her own special bedroom overlooking the living area. She could peek over the edge and see the television, and had a great view through the two-story window out onto the lake and mountains beyond. Maybe the week wouldn't be so bad after all. They had their own canoe to go out on the lake or up and down the adjoining river.

Some distance away from the main cabin, was another smaller building up on stilts. The legs were actually aluminum poles. The main structure of the building was sawn cedar shingle siding and roof. The roof was a 12/12 pitch, with small windows. There was a thin rope ladder going up through a hole in the floor. The strategy here was for a safe spot from the bears. In a life or death situation, the family could get up the ladder into the building that had a ladder that would not support the bears, and an opening that they could not pass through. This was the normal place to keep all food; away from the bears. But, if needed, it was also a place of refuge.

After a brief conversation with the pilot, he roared off, leaving them marooned for the next week. Everybody spent the rest of the day getting firewood and making plans. Jenny and Stephanie took off on a short jog of a couple of miles to scout the surrounding lake and edge of the river. Each had a small can of Bear rated pepper spray.

Both Jenny and her daughter had lumberjack boots that came up to just below their knees, with lumberjack socks that folded down over the tops. Both were wearing cut-off Levis. Jenny's was cut about mid thigh and not hemmed at the edge. Stephie's was cut to the crotch and the pockets had to be clipped to keep from hanging below the edge.

Both women had long reddish brown hair tied up behind them, freckled, but also tanned completions and the muscle tone of seasoned distance runners. Stephanie had not yet been ordered to wear a bra, and was somewhat oblivious of her jiggling at a slow jog. Her mother wore a thin, transparent bra made of the same nude stretch fabric that panty hose is made of. Both women had low cut snug fitting t-shirts.

They jogged lazily around the edge of the large lake, curious where it went. There were a couple more cabins like theirs spaced out around the lake. Soon, another small plane floated noiselessly out of the clouds and skimmed across the mirrored water. Neither of them could see around the trees where it stopped.

The summer sun started down behind the distant mountains, so Jenny felt it was time to start back. It took about an hour to get back to their campground. They walked the last few yards to cool off. Neither woman was exhausted, but they were both covered in a slight film of perspiration. Their thin t-shirts did nothing to conceal the contours or coloring of their long stemmed pink nipples that jiggled beneath their tight wet shirts. Jenny thought that her husband might still be out collecting firewood, and they could get changed before he got back.

Stephanie got to the door first, and opened it for her mother. Jenny went in, not expecting anybody to be there. When she got in and adjusted to the light, she could see that her husband was gagged and bound against the center column. His eyes were as big as saucers. He knew they were coming back, but was unable to warn them.

The small plane had landed and let out three huge black men and all of their hunting gear. Joe thought the men had landed in front of the wrong cabin, and had gone out to greet their new neighbors. The men waded ashore with their gear and guns. Once they landed, they pulled their guns and pushed Joe inside, where they lashed him to the center column. Once he was tied, they duct-taped his mouth shut.

Once Jenny walked into the room and saw her husband bound, she spun around and grabbed her daughter to run, but a huge black man with a shotgun appeared from outside to block their escape.

"What do you want with us?" Jenny stammered. Without answering, they were separated and bound with duct tape. Jenny was duct taped with her hands together above her head to another wood column in the living room facing her husband. Stephie was bound in the same position against the ladder to the loft.

"Well, guys, this hunting expedition looks like the best one yet!" the tallest, biggest one said. "You're right, Sammy. This time, for the same price, we got two women. This is much better than last time. That bush pilot and his hunting company are the best." One of the others said.

"Sammy." The look was familiar. The speech was familiar. His movement was familiar. Now she knew. Sammy was the small forward on their college basketball team. Did he recognize her? Should she say she knew him? Of course, they were all older, but he was just as athletic as ever; maybe even more. Would he remember that they had dated? Would he remember ... the other stuff... ?

Sammy, the apparent leader, smiled and rubbed his unshaven chin. "We come up here every so often on a hunting expedition; only we didn't come up here looking for animals. We pay quite a bit more looking for women. You two are the best ones we have run into yet, and we have the better part of the week before the pilot comes back. You two will get to paddle out of here on a canoe. It is hundreds of miles to the closest village. By then, we will be long gone. I'm afraid your husband probably won't make it; hunting accident, you know."

With that, he stood up and walked over to Stephanie. Sammy laid down his sawed-off shotgun on the table, and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a 12" long ivory handled switch blade. When he pressed the button, the 12" blade, it took a nanosecond to click open and lock. The sound of the blade locking open reverberated off of the lacquered pine logs like a bal peen hammer on an anvil. He slid the gleaming point slowly between Stephanie's legs. Stephanie shut her eyes and groaned as her head twisted from side to side in terror. He turned the blade with the dull side against her and ran it slowly, exploringly up her torso. He used it to fondle one nipple. He flipped her nipple back and forth with the back of the blade several times. Steph had her eyes closed and was sobbing uncontrollably. She tried not to move, not realizing the sharp side of the blade was not against her.

Sammy turned the blade, and used it to pull her almost transparent shirt up away from her, and twisted; cutting a 2" slash in it. He pulled away and the shirt snapped back, leaving her left nipple protruding through the cut. Stephanie groaned again in humiliation, knowing that her father, mother, and several strange men would see her exposed.

Sammy reached out with his left hand and grab bed the fabric around her right nipple, pulled it away from her, and sliced about a 2" circle of fabric from the shirt before letting go. She was now exposed with both long stemmed pink nipples showing.

The gargantuan black man continued moving his knife up her body until he was high enough to cut the duct tape binding her wrists to the ladder. Stephie turned her back to him, leaned against the ladder and placed one hand over her face with the other covering her breasts.

"P ... p ... p ... pleaseeee ... don't hurt us." She sobbed.

"Turn the fuck around or I'll cut your dads dick off!" her abductor snarled.

Stephanie turned, dropped to the floor with her butt and knees on the floor. Her body dropped so that her face was on her knees with her hands still over her breasts and face. Her body shuddered as she sobbed.

Sammy walked over to Joe and pointed the knife at his crotch. Jenny screamed through her duct tape gag as she saw them ready to carry out their threat. Stephanie looked up and screamed. Sammy turned back to Stephanie. "Are you going to cooperate?" he asked.

Stephanie dropped her head back down over her knees and nodded to indicate acceptance of her situation.

"Stand the fuck up. Let's see what we have. We need to see if we are going to fuck you or your mom." It took a while for the command to soak in. All she really heard was the "stand" part.

Stephanie put her hand from her face on the floor to help herself stand. She stood with her head bowed and both hands over her breasts.

"Put your fucking hands down, bitch."

Stephanie struggled with the order. She had never been seen with her breasts exposed to any men before. She had been touched there a few times, briefly. She had dated a few times. She and her boyfriend would sit on the front porch and kissed a little. He had tried to kiss her. When it got heavy, he had reached out to fondle her. She knew she was going to stop him, but her curiosity made her hesitate briefly. It wasn't an immediate discontinuance; but more of a resignation that she could not let him continue.

Now, instead of an exciting new experience in the dark to signal their growing transition into adulthood, she was standing in front of strangers with her nipples exposed through her perspiration drenched shirt.

"Take of the fucking top you cunt!"

Stephanie was humiliated. Her arms could hardly move as she lowered them to the bottom of her shirt. She crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom and raised it over her head. She felt the rush of cool air, signaling she was exposed. She brought the tattered shirt back down in front of her for cover.

Sammy reached out with the point of his knife and used it to pull the garment from her. Stephie instinctively crossed her hands in front of her. Sam stared at her. She bowed her head and let her arms down to her sides.

Stephanie was still growing. Her breasts were melon-shaped with long pink nipples. Her breasts were about as big as they could be without sagging or needing a bra. The bounced and shuddered to reflect her humiliated sobbing. She tried to shut out everything that was happening to her.

"The shorts!" was the next command; not a complete sentence, but clear and unambiguous.

Stephanie could not see what she was doing through her tears, but reached up for the top brass button on her denim shorts. Once open, she grabbed the tab on the zipper and opened it. Each rib on the brass zipper sounded like they were being ripped apart as she pulled it down.

Stephanie looked up to make eye contact. His look made the next command un-necessary. She knew what he wanted. She hooked her thumbs in the sides and pulled down the shorts and panties at once. Once they got past her mid thigh, they dropped until they caught on the tops of her boots.

Stephanie instinctively crossed her hands in front of her over her vulva and breasts as she raised one knee at a time to step out of her shorts. When she saw the point of Sammy's knife move towards her, she dropped her arms to her sides.

Sammy used his knife as a pointer as he gestured to the large oak picnic table that was the dining table. Not knowing what was next; Steph walked over and stood at the end of it.

"Bend over!"

Stephanie bent over and placed her palms on the top of the table. Sam came up behind her and stood close enough to her to press her crotch against the edge of the table.

"More!"

Stephanie sobbed as she leaned over further, so that she now had her elbows on the table and her stomach against the cold wood.

"Spread your legs!"

Sobbing, Stephanie spread her feet about the width of her shoulders.

"Farther!"

Humiliated, Stephanie spread her legs as far as she could, leaving most of her weight now on her upper body. She could feel the cool air against her open vagina now, adding even more humiliation to her position.

Sammy threw the knife so that the point stuck into the wood near her right elbow. She could hear him fumble with his pants and the zipper being opened.

"At this point her mother screamed again through her nose and the duct tape covering her mouth.

Somewhat amused and curious, Sammy turned to face her. He pulled the knife out of the table and walked over to her. He peeled the duct tape from her mouth with the end of his knife.

"What the fuck do you want? What the fuck do you think you can do about this?"

"Please mister; my daughter is only fourteen. I don't want you to hurt her or my husband." She said between sobs. Jenny was 39 years old. She was as beautiful as she was when she was her daughter's age. She had been around men for many years and was a master of argument as most beautiful women are. She was aware of what it would take to divert attention from her daughter and husband. I know what you want. I am much older and can please you more than my daughter, who has never had sex." She said looking pleadingly into Sammy's eyes. With tears running down her face, and her voice stammering while forcing the words out of her, she heard herself say: "I will do whatever you want; willingly and uncomplainly." Jenny forced the words out in the tenderest and enticing manner she could, knowing that her husband and daughter's welfare depended on it.

Sammy looked over at his partners. He looked over at the spread-eagle fourteen year-old Stephanie, whose pouty pink vagina seemed to be staring at him between her spread-apart legs. He weighed his options. He turned back to Jenny and stared at her, trying to make a decision.

"Please leave them alone. I'll make it worth your time," she said as she placed both of her hands on his chest.

Sammy went over to where Stephanie was sprawled out on the picnic table. He positioned her so that her head was leaning over one side of the table, and her butt was spread and hanging over the other side. He sat down on the bench and looked into her open vagina. He stuck his nose up against her and inhaled. He stuck his tongue into her folds and savored the taste and aroma of a virginal fourteen-year old-girl.

"Are you sure you, a 39-year-old mother, can make it more interesting to me and my friends than your daughter can?"

"I ... I ... p ... p ... promise ... you ... will ... will ... not be s ... s ... sorry." she whispered.

"O.K. then, let's get on with it. How do you propose we start?"

Jenny fought the urge to drop her head. She took several deep breaths, trying to hide her sobbing. The words were over, now she would have to back them up. "What do I do? What do I do now?" Her mind raced. She was in new territory now, not really knowing quite what to do.

She remembered seeing a show where Naomi Watts and her family had been abducted. She had been forced to strip to keep the men from killing her son.

Jenny's thin t-shirt was still drenched from the perspiration from jogging. Her breasts heaved from the fear and excitement she was under. Her long-stemmed pink nipples pressed against the semi-transparent fabric. She crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of the shirt and hoisted it above her head. She walked over to where Sammy was sitting next to her daughter, and handed him the shirt. She did not cross her arms.

Her long-stemmed pink nipples highlighted her un-tanned melon shaped breasts which were framed within her tanned and freckled torso. She had the body of a runner and the abs of Dara Torres, the 45-year-old Olympic swimmer.

Jenny held onto the shirt and grasped Sammy's hands within them. "Please promise you won't hurt my husband or daughter. I am doing this for them." Her voice was soft and tender, trying to elicit a pact she actually had no power to enforce.

"You are going to have to convince me you are enough better than your daughter to make it worth my time."

Jenny stepped back a half-step; kept her eye contact with him and unbuckled the top brass button of her cut-offs. With arms that she could hardly control, she reached down to unzip the fly. She hesitated, trying to gather the courage to hook her thumbs into her waistband.

Jenny looked over at her husband and tried to force a smile to indicate: "that's O.K. I will get through this." She could not stop the tears as she looked over at him and slid her shorts and panties down over her waist. She bent enough to get them over her thighs. Jenny tried to step out of them, but they caught on one boot. She raised her right foot behind her, leaned forward and picked the garment off of her foot and handed it to Sammy.

Jenny struggled with her thoughts, not sure what to do next.

The huge black man sucked in his breath. He and his fellow abductors silently scanned the woman before them. Jenny had long reddish brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail that hung almost to her waist. Her body was freckled and tanned like an Olympic athlete. How could a woman this age not have any fat, wrinkles or signs of aging? Her vagina had been shaved into the typical "landing strip" finish so many young girls used so they could wear skimpy bikinis. She was completely shaven from the top of her pouty slit down. Her un-tanned bikini areas were the center of everybody's attention.