Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2020 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
Lost Story: Kidnapped
(***, M/F, Severe, non-consensual whipping)
A girl is kidnapped and whipped. (Approximately 1,047 words. Originally published 1985-10.)
"Good night," Des called to her parents and closed the door to her room. Then she slipped off her shoes and took off her jeans. Suddenly a hand went over her mouth and a queer-smelling chemical was put in front of her nose. In seconds Des was unconscious.
The two men carried Des through the French windows and out onto the balcony. From there they climbed a rope ladder to the ground, passing Des between them. Soon they were off the grounds and driving away in a van.
When Des woke up they were still driving. She looked about her. She noticed several important things. First, she was separated from the men by a glass partition. Second, she had no clothes on. She could see her tee-shirt and underclothing, all she had been wearing, between the two front seats in the van, but couldn't get to them.
Finally the van stopped and the two men forced Des into the basement of a farmhouse. One of the men was carrying a riding crop, and he used it freely, mostly on Des' shapely rear end.
"You'll stay in here with me," the man with the crop said. "I'll make sure you won't -- and I won't -- get bored." He laughed and pointed the crop at her.
Her legs and buttocks already had several red stripes on them, and Des was beginning to believe that was just the beginning. "What are you going to do with me? Why have you brought me here? Where are my clothes? I want them back," she demanded.
"Shut up," the man said, and switched her right leg with the crop.
"Don't ask any questions." Des reluctantly sat her bare bottom on the cold floor, since the man had taken the seat. The other man left.
"What is your name?" she asked the man.
"Don't you hear? Do you want more of this?" The crop was in her face. "Don't ask any questions." There was a long pause and then he said quietly, "Hank."
Soon they began to chat. Des was allowed to put on her shirt, and though it only came down to just below the bottom of her bottom, it helped relieve the chill.
That night, and every night for the next three nights, Hank whipped Des. He whipped her all night long so she couldn't sleep. And during the day he would leave the cellar and go upstairs, locking her below.
Meanwhile, the ransom note had been delivered, and Don, Des' boyfriend, was setting out to rescue her. He had been coming to see her that night, and had seen the van leave. He thought it strange, and had noted the license number. Then he saw the same van again, and followed it to the farmhouse.
Soon he had slipped downstairs and unlocked the cellar door, but Hank had come down almost imediately, and Don had to hide. Soon Hank began to whip Des, and Don burst out and hit the man over the head with a lamp, knocking him out.
Des and Don ran upstairs, slipped out the back, and ran for the woods. They headed in a roundabout way for Don's car. When the finally arrived, Don saw Hank, bruised but apparently no longer knocked out, waiting for them.
They hurried back to the farmhouse, as Hank had a gun, and saw the other man waiting there, also with a gun. So they set out on foot.
When they had walked several miles through the forest, they came to a river. They needed to cross, so they followed it until they reached a tree that had fallen over the river.
Don began to head across the tree, and Des followed close behind. But then the tree branches would snap back and hit Des' already sore legs. So Don tried to trade places with her.
As he tried to move behind her, he slipped and almost fell into the freezing water, but caught onto a branch. With Des' help he managed to climb back up, but was still in front of her. Then Des told him to go on, and not to risk himself anymore.
So they continued over the tree, branches whipping Des' legs and buttocks. But they finally made it. But now they were in a thick area, and they had the same problem, so Des went first.
Don enjoyed that, since Des' bare derrière kept peeking out at him from under her shirt as she bent over to go under branches. He followed her so closely at first, trying to get a better view, that once when she stopped suddenly he bruised his face on her rump. And Des was not very pleased to have been poked in the behind with his nose, though she just glared at him. He kept further back after that.
He couldn't help looking at her backside, though. It was so round and smooth and shifted so neatly beneath the lower edges of her shirt as she walked. He was almost disappointed when the reached a farm house and where able to summon help.
They saw the farm house below them, and Des began to hurry towards it. She was freezing cold, with only a shirt on, as was Don since he had left his bright orange hunting coat in the basement as it was too attracting.
Suddenly Des slipped in the snow and fell plop! on her rump and began to slide down the hill. Don was close behind and fell forward, his face sliding up next to Des. Soon he began to go faster than her, however, as he was heavier, and they both ended up tumbling down the hill.
At the bottom Don found himself enjoyably sitting in the snow with Des piled on top of him, her shirt slid up around her neck. Her bare breasts were on his chest, and her shapely bottom was peeking up behind her back. He promptly kissed her, and was able to gain a few minutes ogling her backside before she realized she was naked.
Then they made the telephone call. But not until after an excited farmer boy snapped a few shots with his Polaroid. Shots which Don promptly bought. For a souvenir, of course.