Just Business

[roped_wrists]

As always, this is a work of pure fiction

"Get in there!"

"Mmph!" I stumble into the storage unit. It's pitch black inside except for the glow of the van's headlights on the snow. Trembling and terrified I spin around, watching my kidnapper return to the vehicle and back it into the adjacent unit.

I see an opportunity, but not the opportunity. Sure, I might be able to make some ground, but there's no way I'm navigating the labyrinthine storage facility in the dead of night--during a blizzard. My feet are free but my hands are zip-tied behind my back, making anything more than a steady jog nearly impossible. I'm gagged with duct tape, muffling any noises I might be able to make--and besides, this late at night there's probably nobody around to hear them anyway. To top it all off I'm severely underdressed for the occasion. Fuzzy slippers and ankle socks are far from waterproof despite how little walking I've been forced to do, my feet are sopping wet and numb with cold. My bathrobe does plenty to protect against the chill of a January evening but against the elements is as effective as a nightgown in Antarctica, especially when I only have a pair of panties beneath.

The door to the neighboring storage unit rattles shut and my kidnapper rounds the corner. He isn't any more recognizable now than he was an hour ago--when I saw him in the bathroom mirror, lunging at me from behind with a chemically-treated rag. "I said get in there!" He barks, giving me a sharp shove. I nearly go toppling. Regaining my balance, I look up in time to see the door shut. It slams to the concrete, the sound like a gunshot in the unit's narrow confines. Flourescent lights pop to life overhead and a space heater in the corner hums to life.

A mattress leans against the near wall. A camera sits on a tripod behind me, aimed at the wall.

"Let's get to work." Ignoring me, my kidnapper sets his sights on the camera. I watch him work. He's an older man, probably in his forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching goatee. The beer belly crowning his belt is substantial. He wears black cargo pants with a matching t-shirt, and his fingerless gloves seem several sizes too small for his meaty hands.

"This is what's going to happen, girl," he growls, turning to address me. "You work for me tonight. I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand me?"

I freeze. As he speaks he glares at me and coupled with the fact that he's at least a full head taller than me, facing him is an intimidating ordeal. Everything he says registers but when I tell myself to nod, my body refuses to obey. He slaps me across the face and then grabs me by the nape of the neck, forcing me to look at him. "Start by nodding, woman!"

I nod vigorously, trying to hold back tears. My mouth is taped tight and crying would clog my nose--not a great prospect.

"Good. Now I'm going to untie you briefly. Screaming will annoy me and being uncooperative will be the end of you. Understand me?" His fingers tighten around the back of my neck. What alternative is there? Wincing, I nod again. "Mmm-hmmm!"

My kidnapper manhandles me around and takes a knife to the rope binding my wrists. Thus accomplished he yanks the tape from my mouth. I gulp in fresh air the way a woman might chug water after wandering the desert for two days.

"Now get over there." He shoves me in from of the camera. A white bathmat sits directly in front of the tripod. I take it as a hint. The undersides of my slippers shuffle against the cold concrete as I take my position. I turn to face the camera in time to see the tiny red LED light appear. My kidnapper cracks his knuckles. "Strip naked."

My heart skips a beat. Excuse me?

[roped_wrists]

Derek Donovan stood behind the camera, looking over his latest catch. Her name was Megan and it was looking like she'd be a good investment. He moved to the mattress and laid it down on the floor.

Megan was pretty--a brunette with a certain girl-next-door appeal to her--with a petite five-five, five six build . She had an average build--by no means was she fat, but she lacked the grotesque anorexic appearance popular among young women these days. She trembled from head to toe, partly from the freezing wind and partly from the rush of being abducted.

She'd been a fairly difficult catch. Then again, all catches were difficult, regardless of how much prepwork Derek put into them. It wasn't as though he singled-out one girl and made a move against her; no, that was putting all his eggs in one basket. There were too many variables--they could move to another town at the last minute, or suddenly adopt a new roommate. Especially these college-aged girls; they changed their lives more often than they changed their socks. Setting his mind on one girl was an amateur mistake, and one he hadn't made since his early days of working for the Taken Raped.

The website had been up for years, and still its secret was locked safely away. On the surface it looked like a typical bondage-and-sex fantasy website--girls looking for a rush getting tied up and having sex with their boyfriends on camera. The acting was usually terrible--only once in a while did the website see a woman that really put 110% into the job--but all of the i's were dotted, the t's crossed. Every model's proof of age on file, every video had the This is fantasy disclaimer. The website took requests too, and most of these were staged as well. But certain requests from certain customers--those were different.

These customers paid top-dollar for their videos--often in the thousands-of-dollars range--and where the majority of clients had their choice of models, "gold members" so-to-speak had little control over the heroine appearing in the film. They could make requests--a blond, brunette, redhead, etc; they could choose ethnicity. In some cases they could choose religious affiliation (one individual about five years ago relished in watching Christian girls being beaten and raped. He was one of Derek's favorite clients, due not only to the possibility that the girls would be virgins, but the need for them to be). No control beyond that was offered, because none could be guaranteed.

The website had originally started as a fresh take on porn but had quickly become a tool for some of society's darker elements. One time in particular there was a police officer out in Vermont looking for extra money for his precinct, but the state didn't see any need to increase the budget. The officer turned to takenraped.com, paying close to twenty-five thousand dollars to invent a serial rapist. Over the course of six months, Derek abducted and tortured thirteen women. Sure enough when it came time to adjust the budget, a certain town in Vermont received a substantial increase to law enforcement.

And all the while, Derek had done what he did best--giving the people what they wanted. Well, not all people were particularly pleased with the arrangement.

"I don't want to," Megan whimpered.

Derek made a move like he was going to lunge for her and she winced.

"Okay, okay!" She squealed, putting her hands up. "Just...don't hurt me."

Derek crossed his arms as Megan slipped off her slippers and then peeled away her socks one at a time. He checked the camera. She was dead-center in the frame.

Pale-faced, Megan untied the bathrobe's belt and took a deep breath, swallowing hard as it fell to the concrete. Aside from a pair of panties she was nude, her skin almost glowing in the fluorescent light. Her legs were long and toned, her belly taut and smooth, her breasts heaving gently and capped with the crinkled pink nubs of her nipples. Unconsciously she crossed one arm over her breasts.

"Lose the underwear."

Derek could see the tears beginning to well in her eyes as she hooked her thumbs on the waistband of the panties. She was too terrified at the moment to fight back; fear made her docile. Later, once she realized what she was in for--that was when she'd start giving him money-shots, but by then it would be too late. She wouldn't be making bids for freedom, she'd be making quality porn.

Megan's pussy was bald. Derek licked his lips. Her loins were completely hairless and even though she hadn't shaved that night (Derek had waited outside her bathroom door for the majority of the evening and knew what she was doing on the other side), there wasn't a trace of stubble to be found. With the panties around her ankles Megan covered her chest with one arm and cupped her free hand over her thighs.

It was a good shot. Megan stood perfectly upright, her eyes downward as she hung her head, her hair hanging around her face. Time to get to the down and dirty.

"Turn around. Face the wall."

Megan was more than happy to oblige. Her naked buttocks was firm and perky. John lifted the camera from the tripod for a closeup of her backside.

"What are you going to do to me?" Megan mewled.

"Duct tape those pretty lips if you don't shut the fuck up. Spread your feet about shoulder-length apart."

Reluctantly, Megan complied.

"Now grab your ankles."

Megan gasped. "Oh my God..."

Derek smacked her ass. The sound of his palm on her flesh cracked like a gunshot in the storage unit's narrow confines. "Do it or I'll just cuff your wrists to your ankles and beat you."

She was sobbing now, edging ever closer to the point where she would start fighting back. But Derek still had complete control for now. Megan complied, bending over and gripping her ankles with her slender fingers. The posture strained her butt cheeks apart, displaying the tight pink rosebud of her anus and the folds of her smooth pussy. Derek dipped the camera in close, panning up and down the cleft of her lewdly-splayed private parts.

"Good. Now lay on the mattress."

Megan shook her head. "...No."

"What did you say?"

"I won't! Tell me what you're going to do to me!"

Derek took a step back and set the camera on the tripod, taking a moment to zoom it out. Megan was starting to fight back and if Derek had learned anything about this business, it was that he was about to get the best footage.

[spacer_350]

Good job so far-this could get very interesting.

[roped_wrists]

After what seemed like an eternity, the rear doors flew open. Cold, black-gloved fingers closed around Elysha's bound ankles and dragged her out of the van, bringing her modeling career to a terrifying conclusion.

She'd been doing photoshoots for five years. She'd started when she was seventeen, doing promos for her high school; when she turned eighteen she started doing it professionally. For four years she only agreed to shoots if she could have an escort present, no exceptions. Her caution had paid off on two occasions: one time she showed up at a shoot and the photographer seemed sketchy right off the bat. She'd made the executive decision to abandon the shoot and as it turned out, about a month later he went to jail for sexually assaulting four women--during photoshoots. She'd been wary of him from his first emails and about a year after, she'd been contacted by another photographer. This time she didn't bother meeting him in person; she simply said she wasn't interested. A short time later, that particular photographer had gone to jail for selling pictures without the models' consent.

But those were two out of at least two hundred people she'd worked with--most of them men--and earlier that year, she'd decided to be more lenient with her precautionary measures. She always brought an escort to the first shoot, sure; but if two or three shoots went well, Elysha figured the photographer was trustworthy. And earlier that morning, she'd made the mistake of deeming Spencer Sattler trustworthy.

"I don't want the ice cutting up those cute feet of yours," Elysha's photographer-turned-kidnapper remarked, slinging her over his shoulder. She tensed as she emerged into the blizzard, the billowing winds causing the snowflakes to feel razor-sharp against her bare flesh.

Elysha knew Spencer liked her feet; her second photoshoot had been dedicated to them. The first had been a straightforward bikini-modeling gig and when he'd approached her about doing a fetish shoot, she'd thought it incredibly weird. But he promised that all she had to do was lay down and let him do the work, and it had been easy money.

The third gig was supposed to be easy money, too. They were going out to an old farm and Elysha was posing as a cowgirl. The whole gig had gone down without a hitch. The shoot had ended as per usual--Spencer opened up a bottle of water, offered a bottle to her, and they drank while chit-chatting. The bottle he offered her, however, contained more than water. On top of hydrating her, it also caused the world to spin--and then go black.

Elysha struggled to get her bearings but between her hair blowing in her eyes and the lingering effects of the drugs, she was barely cognizant of her surroundings. That didn't matter much though; all she could tell was that she was among storage units. Spencer clutched her tight to his shoulder, squeezing her butt. "I'm going to stick my dick up that ass at least once tonight."

She probably would have had a better idea of her location if she knew how long she'd been out, but she had no idea. She'd awakened in the back of the van. Her hands and feet were tied and she'd been stripped naked. Something was wedged into her mouth and while she had zero interest in the whole BDSM thing, she'd learned the terminology while exploring modeling and suspected it was a ball gag. Spencer had driven in silence.

Elysha trembled in a mix of fear and cold as Spencer leaned down and lifted the door to a unit. Surprisingly a wave of hot air rushed out to greet them, bathing Elysha's legs in warmth. Spencer plopped her on the ground. "Stay here."

She didn't really have a choice. What was she going to do, hop out into the storm?

"I said lay on the fucking mattress!"

Elysha twisted around. There were other people in the unit! She was sav--

Elysha swallowed hard. What was going on in this storage unit?

Two people occupied the unit. One was a girl about Elysha's age. She was naked too and scrambling around on an old mattress. The other was an older man. As Elysha looked on, the man pounced on the girl and punched her across the cheek.

Ohmigod!

As though unaware of--or perhaps indifferent to--Elysha's presence, the man rolled the girl onto her stomach and yanked her hands behind her back. As the girl struggled beneath him, he produced a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and locked them around her wrists.

"Looks like someone's already at work," Spencer hissed in her ear.

Before Elysha could react, Spencer slid one arm around her waist and the other around her torso. She felt the cool metal of a blade pressing against her neck.

"The van's hidden in number twenty-three, Derek," Spencer called.

"Good. Close the fuckin' door. You're letting the heat out."

Spencer complied. The door rattled shut behind Elysha and locked into place.

"What's her name?"

Derek produced a long white rag from his pocket, rolled it up, and yanked it between the girl's teeth. "Megan," he grumbled, knotting the rag as she kicked the mattress. "She's a fuckin' bitch."

"Cute feet though." Spencer turned his head and licked Elysha's ear. "But not as cute as yours."

Elysha was barely aware of Spencer's weird and perverted sweet-nothings. Her attention was locked firmly on the girl--Megan, was it?--as she rolled onto her back and glared up at Derek.

"Make it quick," Spencer snapped.

"Shut up."

Slowly but surely, Elysha pieced together what was happening. She watched Derek lift up a camera and situate it so it faced the mattress. Megan closed her legs as the camera's cold, black eye turned her way. Indifferent to Elysha and Spencer's onlooking gaze, Derek unbuttoned his pants and began to strip.

They're psychopaths. Elysha came to the conclusion in one heart-stopping moment. In a way she suspected Spencer intended to rape her, but she'd repressed the notion. But now it was clear. Spencer had kidnapped her--he'd probably been planning it from the start--and now he was going to rape her, and he was going to film himself doing it.

"Mmmmph!" Megan squealed into the gag as Derek unveiled his thick, erect penis. Elysha couldn't watch this. She couldn't watch a middle-aged man assault a twenty-year-old in front of her. She closed her eyes only to feel the blade press harder against her throat.

"Watch it all," Spencer hissed. His free hand wandered down to Elysha's crotch, his fingers probing between her thighs. "Maybe it'll get you wet."

So Elysha watched. She watched Derek pry open Megan's knees and work himself between her legs. When Megan kicked, Derek slapped her across the face. He pinned her, taking a hold of each of her breasts and using his weight to force her against the mattress.

"Nice and loud now!" Derek barked. Elysha didn't see his cock--Megan's thigh was thankfully obscuring her view--but she could tell when Derek penetrated his victim.

"MMMPH!" Megan screamed, her shriek muffled by the gag. She kicked at the air as Derek forced himself fully inside her. He paused for a moment as though savoring the sensation of Megan attempting to reject his unwelcome cock, and then began fucking her.

"That's going to be you, baby," Spencer hissed, using the blade to draw Elysha's head back. "I'm going to take my time with you, though."

Megan rocked back and forth on her cuffed wrists, her teeth gritted on the gag. Derek maintained his rhythm without regard for her, grunting and panting. A long, gleaming string of drool slid from Derek's mouth and collected in a pool between Megan's breasts.

"Fuck! Fuck! Unnnnh!"

Even Elysha had to wince when Derek climaxed. He pounded his hips between Megan's legs, slamming into her crotch with sharp, forceful strokes.

And then he was done. Elysha felt the tears well up in her eyes. She'd just watched a woman get raped. Never before had she felt so helpless. Every instinct in her body told her to do something! but she too was bound, gagged, and defenseless.

"All right, I gotta take a break." Derek dismounted and stretched. "All yours." He leaned down and rolled Megan off of the mattress and onto the floor. "I have about twenty minutes of footage. I'll get the rest in a bit."

Spencer was more than happy to hear the news. His arms disappeared at once and he shoved Elysha. For a moment she was weightless, her matted blond hair whipping around her face, her hands struggling to get in front of her as she saw the mattress fast approaching. She bounced onto the mattress.

The surface was still warm from Megan's presence and the center was warm, wet, and sticky. Elysha nearly gagged. She looked to her right. Immediately in front of her, Megan lay motionless with her back to Elysha, sobbing softly. Beyond her was the camera lens, aimed directly at her. Derek was in the process of removing one tape and inserting another.

"Get that ass into the air," Spencer barked.

"Nnnnn!" Elysha squealed into the gag. This wasn't happening. She wasn't laying on a semen-stained mattress in a storage unit, about to be sodomized by a man she barely knew. There wasn't a girl laying only feet away, struggling to come to terms with the violence she'd just endured--and the horrors yet to come. The man standing behind her hadn't abducted her after a photoshoot with the intention of stripping and raping her. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes desperate.

"Don't take it personally, Elysha," Spencer soothed, unzipping his pants. "It's just business."

[darkstalker]

nicely worked. good detailing and buildup.

[curiousdel]

Great story so far. Can't wait for more!