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Kidnapped teen

Kidnapped Teen

PART ONE

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Johnny was bad enough… but… Hank, and Bill, and T-Bird… all four of them… corning closer and closer.

I cried out… I begged them to reconsider what they were doing.

But it did no good.

They kept coming closer, stopping only to tip the bottle of cheap tequila up to their mouths.

And then, their hands were on me…

How many times have we heard of one media report or another telling us that sexual activity starts younger in our children these days.

Our mothers wondered what shoes to wear with what dress when they prepared themselves for a date. Our daughters are faced with a similar question, whether to wear the leather panties, the crotchless or the edibles.

Ah love… ah life. Most of the experts (if anyone really has faith in THAT designation anymore) agree that this trend is a healthy one. It's a meaner world that faces our children than the one our parents knew. It should, therefore, be prepared for earlier, and the rituals of love and sex should naturally be an integral part of that preparation.

So say the experts.

But one can't help wonder are young minds and young personalities ready to cope with the wild extremes of emotion that accompany serious sexual activity?

Rejection is difficult enough at any age, but when one has scarcely scratched the surface of the question, "Who am I?" can he reasonably be expected to handle a painful rejection? Is there, perhaps, an increased danger that extremes of emotion, ill prepared for, could produce extreme reactions?

The following story would indicate that this is the case. Read for yourself, and decide.

I was talking to my friend, Mary Beth Rogers.

Or, rather, she was talking to me.

"Junella Simpson, you are really too, too much! You deserve better."

"Mary Beth, you just don't understand him. There's a soft side to him… really. Johnny's… I don't know… he's afraid that people are going to brush him off…"

"I know. So he pounds them into the dirt before hand, just to keep things in gear."

"Well… I'll admit, he does have a temper."

"Oh, give me a break, Junella. That's like saying Anne Boleyn had a headache!"

"No… you give him a break!"

"Like he gave Harry Robbins?"

I was afraid she'd mention that.

Johnny and Harry had both been thrown out of school for a week because they were fighting. Harry, however, in addition to the failing grades, was also going to have a big hospital bill. Johnny had broken his arm and his nose.

"And another thing," she went on, knowing when she had me at a disadvantage and pressing it to the fullest extent possible, "the morons that he hangs out with are even worse."

She was referring to Hank Smoot, Bill Scogg, and Ernie, a.k.a. T-Bird, only one of whom, T-Bird, was still in school, and he was walking a thin line himself.

"I know," I finally had to admit. I didn't like hearing what she was telling me, but it was hard to argue with her.

"You know it's the truth," she pressed.

"Yeah…"

"I mean… you can't have opinions about truth. It's just…"

"Mary Beth! You do not have to rub my face in the mud! All right?"

"Easy girl… don't be so sensitive."

But I knew she was right. I just didn't like hearing it.

"What do you see in him, anyway?"

I took a moment before answering. I could have said the same crap about seeing a different side to him than he showed to everyone else… a soft side… a sensitive side…

I could have said that I knew there was potential there, that he could develop into a first-rate human being…

I could have said that he needed me… that without someone like me to care for him, he'd just go down the tubes…

I could have said any or all of those, but I didn't, because it would have all been bullshit!

I knew it, and Mary Beth knew it.

If there is such a thing as redeeming social value, Johnny Waddell was NOT the person the term had been coined to describe.

The sonfabitch was worthless, and I knew it.

Miserable human being.

He lied.

He stole… from his mother, his sister, from my mother and from me…

He beat up on anyone who got in his way or who wouldn't give him what he wanted…

Me included.

In fact, the first time he took me out, he raped me.

That's right.

Just up and raped the shit out of me.

"This isn't the way to Center City, is it?" I'd asked him when I saw that there were less and less houses.

"I told you," he mumbled in that quaintly inarticulate way of his, "it's a short-cut."

"Yeah… well, usually when my daddy takes a short-cut, we get lost."

He smirked, and then he casually looked my way. "Well, some short-cuts are shorter than others."

"Listen," I said, "I think I want to go back now."

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah… I do. Can you turn the car around?"

"In a minute."

"Why? Why not now?"

"Because we aren't where we're going to be, when we get there, that is."

"Where's that?" I asked, getting more and more scared.

"Where we're going."

Then, looking levelly at me, he said, "You ask one fuck of a lot of questions. Ain't anyone ever told you that women should keep their fucking mouths shut?"

"NO! No one ever told me that. And furthermore…"

"You're wrong. You just been told."

I was going to say something, but then he started to slow the car down. "Where are we going? Where are you taking me?"

He smiled. "You'll see. You're gonna like it."

"No I won't. Let me go! Let me out."

"Hang on, would you?" he asked, acting like I was getting all worked up over nothing and wouldn't I feel silly once I realized that I'd just been over-reacting…

Well, I wasn't over-reacting. I was being taken down a tiny dirt road, a real backwoods washboard road, and then, suddenly, he stopped the car, and the thing had been making so much noise before, rattling and shaking over the bumpy road, that the sudden silence was jarring. Frightening… almost as frightening as the look on Johnny's face reflecting the moonlight.

"Where are we?" I asked. I cursed inwardly at the way my voice was shaking.

"Where do you think?"

"I… I don't know."

"We're at the playground."

I looked around. I couldn't see anything but trees.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that now you and me… we play."

"You stay right where you are," I said as he slid across the seat anyway.

"Don't be that way, Junella," he said. "Don't. It's real unfriendly."

"You get back. I never let a boy kiss me on the first date."

"Suits fuck out of me," he said. "I'll forego that and get straight to the good shit."

"You leave me alone!" I shouted.

"Ain't no point in you shouting at me," he said, "or shouting at all, for that matter. No one's ever going to hear you out here."

"Johnny… please…"

"There's an old saying. 'Put out, or get out.' You ever hear of that saying?"

My hands and my voice were both shaking terribly by now, and I didn't have the faintest idea what I was going to do next.

"What's it going to be?" he asked. "You going to put out, or are you going to get out?"

"I… I…"

Then, I realized. The bastard… he was bluffing.

"You aren't ever going to lay a hand on me, that's for sure."

"Fine."

He opened the door to his side, got out, walked around the big car and opened my door.

"Don't you think I'm polite? Opening the door for my date? Come on… get your ass out."

"Johnny! You can't be serious! Stop kidding."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he said, "Look, could you hurry it up? I don't have all night."

I realized he wasn't kidding. At all.

I started to cry.

"Oh shit…" he said, annoyed. "You're going to stain my new seat covers. Damn! I just put the fuckers in… look, would you get the fuck out of my car? I'm getting tired of this."

He reached into the car and grabbed me by the wrist. "You're going to have to learn that when I say something, you stupid slimy cunt, you'd best do it, and the first time I say it, too!"

He pulled.

I started to pull back.

He pulled harder.

I pulled back harder.

"Oh, I see. You don't want to get out huh? That leaves you with one option."

And with that, he jumped in on top of me.

"Johnny," I screamed, but it was already too late.

His hand was starting to creep up my thighs, and I felt his fingers pressing against my panties.

"Lord, now don't that feel nice," he said, "all wet, and juicy… you must have known I was coming and got ready, huh?"

He stuck his fingers underneath my panties then, pulling the crotch piece off my cunt lips.

"Look at that, would you? I've never felt a pussy that was, hotter or wetter. Say, are you a virgin? Or what?"

I couldn't believe it was happening to me.

There was a sharp burst of fear plowing through my body, like the blade of a sword, and it felt like it was cutting my guts out.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't think… and I couldn't react.

All I could do was feel… feel his fingers scraping over my cunt… feel my clit throbbing and aching…

I felt a pressure inside my body, and although I wasn't thinking well, I was worried.

I paid it no attention though.

I figured that if it was in my cunt, and I was afraid, well, naturally I was afraid of rape.

Right?

Well, his fingers started to spread my pussy lips, and soon, they were snaking right up into my cunt hole.

I felt the muscle around the rim closing in real tight, but there wasn't anything I could do to keep his fingers from entering me… he was much much stronger than I was.

Back in the days before he started doing drugs, Johnny had played football for the team, and now, even though his coordination wasn't worth the effort for him to even go out for the team, his muscles were still well-developed… and like I said, he got in a lot of extra practice beating people into the dirt and all.

Well, he wasn't going to have to beat me into the dirt.

I felt that big meaty arm of his clamp around my neck and start to squeeze, and decided right then and there that the scars from rape would heal a lot faster than the scars from death, so I went all limp, letting my muscles sag and relax, and he just moved right in, piling his fingers up into my cunt.

I groaned from the pain, but I stopped fighting him.

I knew that I wanted to live, and at that moment, I didn't trust him to let me, if I fought him, that is.

He pulled my dress up, and then, gripping the waistband of my panties, he pulled real hard on it, just yanked as hard as he possibly could, and I felt the material tear.

I felt another burst of fear… at least I thought it was fear, but the truth is, I was too worked up and hyper-charged with adrenalin to know what I was feeling, to know what I was thinking, to know what was happening to me.

I just felt my nerves alt starting to explode, all through my body, and I felt my muscles starting to twitch, and to jerk, and I just knew that I was going to be in for one rough time.

I didn't know how rough… but I figured that he was going to beat me, and make me bleed, and I suddenly had weird thoughts about a trial, and I saw me staggering into a police station, and I saw the local cops sitting around, laughing at me, saying things like, "You're sure now, little lady, that you didn't give him the tiniest bit of encouragement…?"

And then, I felt Johnny's hands on my thighs, lifting them up off the car seat.

I was crying.

"Please… just be gentle… don't hurt me… please… don't hurt me."

He reached his hand down to my mouth, started to squeeze with his fingers, and he said, "You don't worry about a thing, Baby. I'll take care of you. Old Johnny and his cock'll take real good care of you."

He laughed then, a sharp, harsh, nasty laugh, and stuck his fingers into my cunt again.

"I think you done had your cherry popped, didn't you?"

I didn't say anything, but any fool could have figured that out.

"I guess old Clyde got a chance to dip his wick after all, didn't he?"

Johnny was talking about Clyde Potter, my very first boyfriend, and I thought for a while that he'd be the only man I'd ever love.

But then he went away to college, and so to getting even, I stopped loving him.

I guess I showed him.

But now, I was wishing that it could be Clyde's fingers up my cunt instead of Johnny's.

Clyde was gentle, and he really knew how to take care of me.

He could make me come almost every time, and he never hardly shot off too quick.

That's what I was thinking at the time, anyway.

But Johnny, he was being just as rough with me as he knew how.

Two fingers… three… stuffing them up into my hole and then spreading them apart as far as he could possibly stretch my hole.

I felt tissues that I'd never even known about sending out sharp signals of pain.

I started to cry.

Real hard.

"Damn," muttered Johnny, "all over the seat covers again."

"Well to hell with your fucking seat covers," I yelled at him.

That seemed to take him by surprise for just a second but then I heard him laugh in the darkness.

"Yeah… that's what I like. A woman with a little fight in her. Come on, Darling! Yell at me again."

I said nothing. In the pale glow of the moonlight, I could see him grinning like a cat… or a skull.

I didn't know which, but neither one was anything I wanted to be around.

He suddenly slapped me on the side of my thigh.

"Come on, Darling," he said again. "I want to hear you get pissed off. Yell at me a little. Let's see a little spunk!"

He slapped me again.

"You piece of shit," I said, but I said it softly, not yelling.

"There you go," Johnny cried, enthusiastically. He forced me over on my side and gave me a hard slap on my naked ass.

"You stupid asshole," I yelled.

"Hey hey!!! That's what I want to hear."

He slapped me again.

It was starting to hurt.

He stuck a couple of fingers back in my cunt again, and slapped me two or three more times on the ass, each time hitting me harder and harder.

"Stop it. stop it!!!" I yelled.

"No… you stupid cunt. I'm not going to stop it. Not until I'm good and ready."

There was something in his voice that I heard then, something that I hadn't heard before.

It turned my blood to ice and made all my muscles go rigid from fear.

He sounded like one of the most dangerous people I'd ever been in contact with.

I realized then that he was crazy, and that I was in danger.

I didn't want to die.

But I knew that I was hopelessly defenseless against him.

He slapped me four or five more times, each one solidly applied to my ass cheeks, each one stinging like flames, and each one hurting me bad, so bad the tears were spurting from my eyes.

"Stop, Johnny," I said again, and again… I don't know how many times I said it, begging him. He completely ignored me. He was a sadistic beast.

And then, I heard the final sound, the one that I'd been dreading the most.

I heard his zipper coming down.

He pulled his cock out.

Even in the dim light, I could see the shape of the thing. It was huge. It was a monster.

"Oh… my… God…" I said, astounded.

I realized that I had about thirty seconds of life left… and then my body would be split wide open, ripped from my cunt right up the middle… and I'd bleed slowly to death…

Well… maybe I was being a little melodramatic, but I knew that Clyde cock had never been that big… and I didn't think that cocks could grow that big.

Ten inches.

That's what it was.