Gone

Gone

Part One



	She awoke reluctantly, if not unwillingly altogether. Her room was dark,
the windows closed. Behind her curtains, she sunlight did not reflect off the
white cloth-the sun wouldn't be coming up for another couple hours or so.

	Instead, the world she lived in was quiet and dark for the time being.
She slid to the side of the bed and sat up, planting her bare feet on the
crimson red rug, and rubbed her eyes with one hand. Soft, brown eyes. Her skin
was dark, but not black-almost like a year-round chestnut tan.

	She stood up and slowly walked from her bed to the door, feeling around
a bit for the doorknob, and stepped out into the hall. She wasn't walking
especially straight-graceful movement wasn't a skill she possessed early in the
morning.

	From her room, that unseasonably warm January morning, Molly headed into
the bathroom and took her shower; at seven o'clock she boarded the bus and rode
it to school. She had ten minutes to socialize before school started at
seven-thirty; then first block rolled around. Molly was an exceptionally
intelligent Junior-not a genius, not by a long stretch. Instead, she was one of
the rare 'overall smart' women in the high school-not ditzy, not a 'dumb blond'
if you will, not a meretricious bitch and not a snob. Instead, she was an honor
roll student who was secure in her social standing and had never engaged in
sexual intercourse in her entire life. Until sophomore year, Molly hadn't even
had a boyfriend-she just wasn't interested. She was very attractive, but that
hadn't gotten to her head-and if it had, she wasn't condescending just because
of her looks. Like previously stated, she was good all around.



	After school, Molly completed her homework and was watching the
television when her phone rang. It was odd for someone to be calling this late
in the afternoon-probably a business associate of her father's or something.
Instead, she said 'hello' and was greeted by her friend Jenna.

	"Hey Molly, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a little
while."

	Molly thought for a moment. Her television program wasn't that
important, and all her homework was complete. "All right, I'll be there in a
little while." She set down the phone and looked over her apparel: skimpy, light
red sandals, a pair of white shorts, and a tight blue t-shirt. It was casual,
and it would do. It was an odd outfit for January, to say the least-but, this
year was an odd year. It had not snowed at all, and temperatures had rarely
dropped to winter temperatures during the course of those few months. Molly
wasn't complaining; she had always been a fan of spring and summer's warmer
climate.

	Her friend Jenna Clarence lived only a little ways from her-Molly lived
on a cul-de-sac, on the edge of the circle opposite the road; Jenna lived near
the intersection of her road and the main road. It was a short five-minute walk.

	In that warm June afternoon Molly walked nonchalantly through the
rapidly failing sunlight, it was a pleasurable temperature and the spring air
smelled fresh with flowers and grass. A breeze swept down the road at her,
carrying the faintest scent of the distant ocean. It reminded her that she had
yet to visit the beach this year. In the trees lining either side of the quiet
road, birds sang their usual melodious chorus-one interrupted only by an
approaching rainstorm or the silencing shroud of night.

	Molly turned into the Clarence's driveway, spotting the house at the end
of a long stretch of pavement. The property was dominant with pine trees, the
scent hanging permanently in the air like a heavy blanket. What was once grass
was now a thick layer of pine needles in Jenna's yard; yellow and green
intermingled, excluding the solid black pavement path leading to her garage and
front door.

	The brick house was two stories high, but fairly small in terms of width
and length, and was reasonably sized for two adults and one teenager. Molly
walked up to the tall oak front door, reached up to the ornate gold knocker, and
struck it three times. The booming thunderclap it produced echoed through the
house and was rewarded with Jenna's voice. "Come in!"

	Molly stepped through the door into the cozy house, closing the door
behind her. "I'm in the living room!"

	Molly followed the sound of Jenna's voice down the hall and around the
next corner. When she stepped through the doorway, she stopped in her tracks.
Jenna was sitting on the couch with both hands behind her back-bound together
somehow, Molly assumed-her ankles tied together, and a large man sitting beside
her with a long knife pressed against her slender throat. The man with the knife
was looking at Jenna with a gleam in his eye, and for good reason-she had
medium-length black hair, held back on her head with a simple pink hair band,
and she had chosen to dress up that day and was clad in a thin denim skirt with
a white button up shirt. She looked at Molly woefully. "They...they made me do
it." Tears were beginning to flow freely now.

	"They...?" Molly asked, backing away slowly; after all, she only saw one
man. Her confusion was quickly overcome, as another enormous arm was wrapped
around her petite body, its length formidable enough to hold both of Molly's
arms at her side. With the one hand useless, as it was attached to the arm
immobilizing her, her assailant used his other hand to hold a knife to her
throat similar to the one against Jenna's. She froze instantly, paranoid that
any sudden movements would be her last. The edge of the blade was surprisingly
sharp-she feared that even the slightest movement would slit her fragile flesh;
it was cold and merciless against her skin, as if trying to communicate to her
that the knife was alive and waiting to slide into her. Molly stood there for a
moment, paralyzed, looking at her helpless friend while the man holding her
captive adjusted his grip on the terrified girl. He pressed his face against the
side of hers, the bristles of his beard rubbing roughly against her soft skin,
like sandpaper. His lips pressed against her ear and his breath was hot and
moist. "Put your hands behind your back. Do it slowly."

	Slowly, he released Molly's arms and stepped back a bit, withdrawing the
knife from her neck. She then determined to move her arms, now hanging loosely
at her sides, behind her back, as he had demanded. She was unsure where he
wanted her hands, but her question was quickly answered. He roughly grabbed her
slim wrists and secured a pair of handcuffs around each of them, effectively
negating any advantageous actions she could take. The metal was cold, the frigid
metal creating an almost cutting sensation upon her skin. He kneeled by her
feet, producing a white shoestring from his back pocket. "Put your feet
together." Again, Molly obliged, fearing the wraths of either of the mystery
men. As he bound her ankles together with the shoestring, Molly looked over at
Jenna, still seated on the couch with the other man. He growled something into
her ear and she opened her mouth wide open, a glint of fear unmistakable in her
eyes. The man beside Jenna then proceeded to push a bright red sphere into her
mouth, and then fastened the buckled behind her head, holding the gag in place.
It was quite obvious to Molly that the orb did not fit comfortably into her
friend's mouth, as Jenna's teeth seemed to be fighting a losing battle to bite
into the ball in order to relieve some of the stress.

	The man finished binding Molly's ankles together and stood, looking into
her face. Molly was so terrified, so deeply frightened by this whole situation;
she was unable to break a stare between them. He looked deeply into her eyes,
feeding on the fear they expressed; his eyes were like twin fires absorbing the
happiness from hers. Her mouth was open, her bottom lip quivering lightly; she
was quite unstable, her knees almost buckled several times. But still, after
only a brief moment of all this transpiring, Molly was still standing. Still
gazing into her eyes, the assailant spoke to Molly. "I am Leonard. With your
friend over there is Greg. You will be coming with us." Leonard produced a gag
like Jenna's from his pocket. "Open up. Wide."

	Molly obliged, holding her mouth open as wide as possible while he
pushed the sphere between her teeth. As she had previously observed, it was a
tight and uncomfortable fit, and her jaw soon became quite sore after only a
couple minutes after insertion. Leonard took Molly by the arm and motioned to
his comrade to do the same. Jenna was pulled into an upright position by her
captor and lifted over the man's muscled shoulder; her head hanging down along
her back and her legs dangling down his front. Greg carried Jenna out first,
Leonard lifting Molly up and over his shoulder in a similar manner and following
his companion out the door.

	The two kidnappers' planning was impeccable-the time of the evening had
come when the sun had faded and the streetlights were still dark. Coupled with
the black shroud of the woods surrounding Jenna's house, the kidnapping of the
two women was virtually invisible.

	Greg set Jenna down so she was standing on her own two feet once again,
and Molly was set down the same way. It was apparent that these two were very
organized, and had done this numerous times before. It was also evident that
they had observed Jenna's house beforehand, and worked out the plan before
executing. Molly found it to be startlingly efficient, almost frightening how
well the plan had been worked out.

	Molly, now shoulder to shoulder with Jenna, looked forward at the road,
still shrouded in the darkness between to domains of sunlight and streetlight.
Not a single car passed by, it wasn't like a main road; instead, it was
unfortunately (as earlier stated) a cul-de-sac, and therefore the only traffic
tended to be people who lived on the road, aside from the occasional curious
tourist or dog walker.

	"You get the van. I'll watch them." Leonard's voice broke the uneasy
silence that had greeted the group when the women had been led outside. This was
followed by Greg's quiet footsteps leading away from the driveway over to the
side yard. "You two-kneel down."

	Molly, acknowledging the hopelessness of her situation, dropped to her
knees, kneeling down and sitting back on her ankles. Jenna copied the motion,
and the two women looked at each other. It was easy for one to read the other's
mind-neither girl knew what was going to happen, neither girl knew how to
escape.

	The van Leonard had earlier mentioned pulled around the side of the
house a couple seconds later, bumping up onto the pavement beside them. Greg was
behind the wheel, staring forward nonchalantly, the passenger seat empty. It was
a truck belonging to the Volcano Publishing Company, probably stolen. It's
license plate was "OGD713", and a the image of a fluorescent volcano erupting
was painted on the side. Leonard strolled around the side of the red vehicle,
pulling open the rear doors, revealing a third man within. He hopped out, and,
with Leonard's assistance, lifted Jenna and hoisted her into the van. The same
was done with Molly-she was lowered into a laying-down position, Leonard grasped
her ankles and the other man stood by her head and lifted her up by her
underarms.

	The first thing Molly noticed when she was set into the back of the van
was that she and Jenna had been placed into sleeping bags-however, the top flap
was open, the zipper down by their feet. Leonard jumped into the passenger seat
while the third man jumped in between Jenna and Molly and closed the rear doors.
The engine rumbled and the group drove off into the night, leaving Jenna's house
behind them. Soon, they were on the main road, clearly headed toward the
highway.

	The passenger and drivers' seats obstructed Molly's vision; she could
see only into the clear night sky high above the city. A streetlight would
illuminate the interior of the van every so often, equally placed along the
road, a rhythmic pulsation created as a result. It mesmerized Molly; the pulsing
was like the throbbing of a heart...someone else's heart, no doubt, as the
throbbing was far slower than Molly's.



	About an hour later, Clark (the third man, his name revealed when Greg
addressed him) moved to Molly's feet, and, taking the flap in his hand, pulled
it over her legs, then her torso, and finally her head. He moved once again to
her feet and pulled on the zipper, drawing it toward her head, the
characteristic 'zip' resembling that of a body bag. As usual, the same was
repeated for Jenna.

	The van drove for another fifteen minutes or so; it was a psychological
eternity for Molly, who was languishing in the stifling heat of her sleeping bag
prison. Finally, the vehicle pulled to a stop and she heard the sound of the
rear door being opened.

	Molly was the first to be removed. She felt hands, strong hands groping
around her chest, searching for her underarms. As her hands were manacled behind
her back, there wasn't exactly a whole lot of space between her arm and her
chest-therefore, the man simply stood at her head and hoisted her up by both her
shoulders. She was dragged out the back of the van, the sensations making her
nervous-she could feel nothing below her, in the darkness of the bag it was like
she was floating in a black, empty abyss. Luckily, a second man grabbed her
calves and she was once again carried somewhere. Around her, she could hear men
yelling to each other, though they were almost completely drowned out by the
roar of heavy machinery. Could she be in a factory of some sort? What would be
done to her? Countless questions filled her mind, a vicious surge of inquiries
inundating her brain.

	Soon, the sound of the machinery seemed to drift away; Molly assumed
that she had been carried through a loading dock of some nature and was now deep
in the bowels of the facility. This was true...to a point.

	Finally, she was set down on a hard, stone surface and there was a
gentle pulling sensation at the zipper, which was immediately followed by the
bag opening and filling the sleeping bag with light. Molly squinted momentarily,
blinded by the sudden influx of light. Before she was even organized, a gruff
voice was growling in her ear. "Roll over."

	It was a simple command, and Molly, in her current situation, had no
choice but to oblige. The reaction was instant-the ball gag's strap was loosened
and was pulled away from her head and her ankles were untied. The handcuffs
remained in place, but nonetheless, Molly felt free.

	There was the sound of a barred iron door opening and closing, and soon
her environment had been enveloped in silence. Her eyes had not fully adjusted
to the light, but she opened her eyes to look around. She was in a prison cell,
a small cell with a stone cot and a decrepit-looking toilet and a door. The wall
opposite the door was stone, as was the one on the side. However, the wall the
door was on and the wall opposite her cot were comprised of iron bars. Further
examination revealed that the wall opposite her cot looked into the cell next to
her, where Jenna was. She too was on her cot, looking up at the ceiling.

	Molly stood and walked to the barred wall looking into Jenna's cell. She
glanced around a bit, to ensure nobody was around. "Jenna..."

	She raised her head to look at the voice. "Molly!" She said, her voice a
loud whisper. "I'm...I'm scared."

	Molly looked at the floor. "I am too..."

	"I'm sorry I got us into this...they came into my house and threatened
to kill me if I didn't call you. Then, when you got there, they threatened to
kill me if I didn't lead you to the living room...I'm so sorry..."

	Molly shook her head, not taking her eyes off her distraught friend.
"It's not your fault."

	Jenna looked up at Molly once again. "What do you think they're going to
do to us?"

	Molly's eyes welled up at this new realization, the realization that
Jenna's question was one she didn't have an answer to...

Gone

Part Two



	There had been an uneasy silence between Jenna and Molly for ten minutes
or so-the two frightened women were lost within their thoughts, whether they be
of escape, or of their family and friends. Molly had used the toilet (with a bit
of difficulty, knowing that she was in full view of Jenna) and both women were
just in a state of confusion now. What would happen to them?

	The stone door at the end of the dimly lit cell block growled suddenly,
signaling to Molly and Jenna that someone was there to visit. It was Leonard,
dressed in the same attire as before. He walked casually to the two cells, his
face the normal uninterested expression, and stopped in front of the iron bars,
looking in at his two captives. "I suppose it is time for you to learn a few
things." His voice was deep and smooth...mildly relaxing, in a way. "First off,
myself, Greg, and Clark are the scouts. We hear about potential women that could
be helpful to us, and we investigate them. You two were exceptional finds-we've
been drawn to you two ever since day one of observation. You two are so
beautiful, and are always together. We were drawn to you, Ms. Mathias, after
seeing you in the newspaper." Molly's father, Daniel Mathias, owned the Polaris
Star Corporation, a shipping company that had been doing exceptionally well over
the past few months. A nearby news group did special articles on famous and rich
people; Daniel's family had been in the newspaper. "We simply watched your house
for a few days-long enough to know when both parents would be gone-and sent you
a package, tagged with a tracking device, via Polaris shipping. Then, when they
picked up the package from the post office, we followed the truck. Isn't it
ironic, though, that your father's company is the Polaris Star Company-the same
company that owned the truck that led us to his daughter."

	Leonard leaned against a cell across the aisle from Molly's. "It was
difficult for us to get both of you at the same time, but possible, as you both
can see. We will not keep you, though. We will sell you, to the highest bidder
at the next auction, in three hours, which is why I am here. I have come to
collect you..." He motioned to Molly. "...And someone will come momentarily for
you." He eyes shifted to Jenna.

	"What are you going to do to me?" Molly asked, making a weak attempt to
mask the fear in her voice.

	"You will come with me." Leonard produced a key, which he used to unlock
the door of the cell. As he pulled it open, Molly looked at Jenna, who was
looking back at her with a terrified expression that clearly denoted her worried
concern for her friend. She then looked back at Leonard, who motioned
impatiently at her to come with him. Reluctantly, she obliged, exiting the cell
and following Leonard from the cellblock.

	The building seemed to be a medium-sized building of undeterminable
height, on the seashore, with a dock near it. During her walk through the drab
hallways of dark wooden walls lit dimly by the occasional light bulb, Molly
would pass a window overlooking the dock area-a window peering into the world
Molly once knew; the world of freedom. The buildings outside appeared decrepit
and uncared for; halogen lights were peppered about, illuminating the property
with splotches of light. The entire area seemed dreary and cold, and it would
not have surprised Molly if these men were using the dockyard as a front-perhaps
the local authorities could not intervene on the kidnappings because they didn't
know about the dockyards? That was a possibility in her mind.

	Leonard led the subdued woman through the halls to the uneasy rhythmic
sound of her innocent flip-flops and his own coldly heavy boots against the hard
cement floor. Leonard, with his hand on her shoulder, stopped Molly just as they
were about to pass a small room off to their left. He directed his prisoner into
the room with a resolute grip on her shoulder, then followed her in and locked
the door behind them.

	It was a small square room, even gloomier than the rest of the facility,
with the same stone floors and wooden walls; the only difference between the
hallways and this room were the candles-one over the doorway, two on each of the
other three walls. They were held high by rusted gold candlesticks, and the
overall effect gave Molly a feeling of a torture chamber of some nature. The
chair in the center didn't especially have a positive influence on Molly as to
the purpose of the chamber-it looked like the chair one would find in a
dentist's office. Against the wall to her right was a small bag on the floor,
similar to the one that had transported the handcuffs and gags the men had used
on Molly and Jenna back at the house.

	Needless to say, she hoped that torture wasn't the purpose of the room.

	Leonard released her handcuffs and pocketed the keys, the icy biting
sensation against her slim wrists fading almost instantly thereafter. Leonard
then sat down on the end of the dentist chair and spoke in his usual direct
tone. "Now, remove your clothes."

	His order mortified her. "A-all of them?" Her voice was clearly uneasy.

	"Yes. All of them. Except your bra, underwear, and sandals."

	She licked her lips and blinked a rapidly a couple of times in
succession. "But..."

	"No buts. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. And I can
guarantee you won't like the hard way." His voice remained unchanged, but there
seemed to be a deeper tone behind his words that intensified the threat of "the
hard way".

	Molly thought for a moment. Of course, the solution was to do it the
easy way...she had no intentions of finding out what the hard way was. Still,
being ordered to strip naked for some pervert who had kidnapped her was
degrading enough for her to consider attempting an escape, but she feared the
consequences in the likely event that she failed to flee. "...Ok." She uttered
the syllable shamefully, as if the poor girl was relinquishing every trace of
pride in her petite body.

	Leonard looked her over, an expression upon his face appearing to
reflect a bit of pity. "Perhaps a bit of small talk while you strip will relax
you. First off, what is your first name?"

	Molly swallowed and took each side of her shirt collar with her thumbs
and forefingers. "Molly." She spoke her name as she pulled the t-shirt over her
head.

	"Molly, hm...?" He looked at her body, admiring her sexy belly and the
tight size-B bra that hid her petite breasts from view. She cringed slightly in
discomfort; he was looking over her like she was a piece of meat. She was
slightly grateful that he had specified that she leave her bra on, though she
still wondered why he wanted her to.

	"Are you going to hurt me?" It was the question that Molly had been
pondering since her ride in the van.

	Leonard smiled subtly and shook his head lightly. "I won't."

	As Molly unbuttoned her pants, she questioned the emphasis on his 'I'.
"You won't? What do you mean by that?"

	Leonard watched her unzip the tight shorts, the characteristic 'zip'
sound indicating that the sight of something lovely was imminent. "You won't be
my property for very long, after all." He watched intently as she slowly slid
the article of clothing down her slender legs and let it drop around her ankles.
The candles surrounding her illuminated her scantily clad body weakly, but she
felt unprotected against the harsh eyes feasting on her bare skin...especially
when that hungry gaze fixed on the parts of her that weren't bare-yet.

	Suddenly, he motioned her over to him, with a sort of underlying
eagerness that showed not obviously on his face, but more in the manner of which
he gestured toward her. She meekly obeyed, stepping out of her discarded pants
without removing her flip-flops, then coming quietly to his side. He sat up
straight, drawing her to a distance of about a foot away from him, and wrapping
his right arm around her waist sensually. The tears almost returned to Molly's
eyes as he slid his hand down the small of her back, across her tailbone, and to
her butt, the muscles of which tensed instantly at the unwelcome contact.
Leonard's hand gently rubbed the firm sphere, sliding up and down her tender
buttocks; all the while Molly languished in the degrading sensation.

	Then, like a suave Casanova romantically stripping his woman in bed, he
slid his fingernails up along the bare skin of Molly's spine, provoking a
fearful shudder. Up it went, to the strap of her tight bra, causing the girl to
tense and straighten her posture in dread. Slowly, at a speed that could
potentially drive her insane, Molly felt his intrusive fingers prying delicately
at the hooks of the undergarment, first releasing one, then the second; then he
released the third with such an agonizing, deliberately unhurried pace that it
was like the ascendancy to a climax that Leonard had been anticipating since he
had first handcuffed and gagged the girl in Jenna's house. The bra popped and
was loose upon her chest, her breasts remaining unseen only because of the thin
straps running over her collarbones. Urged by Leonard's hungry stare, Molly
pushed her shoulders back and let the undergarment slide down the sides of her
arms and down the front of her. It was a light, paper-thin bra that fluttered to
the floor like a dove's feather caught in a gentle gust of wind. Leonard smiled
with satisfaction upon seeing her naked breasts. They were quite small, each one
slightly larger than a peach, with two nickel-sized pink nubs protruding from
the peaks of both.

	Molly shivered lightly, but Leonard disregarded it. Instead, he reached
to her chest and gently grazed the soft nipple. She flinched at the unwelcome
contact between the cold, dry skin of his fingers and her virgin breasts. The
jelly-like nipple was gradually erecting in the open air, and soon it was
standing rigid at full stimulation and the other subsequently began to imitate
its counterpart. With her nipples forcefully hardened, Leonard issued his next
order. "Sit on the edge of this chair, facing away from me. Unable to hide her
fear, which remained as the dominant emotion, the vulnerable girl swallowed
hard, finally succumbing to the hopeless situation she'd been faced with. She
obeyed, sitting on the end of the chair facing the door, the tears she'd kept
silent for the past few hours finally overflowing from her heart through her
eyes. The first teardrops dribbled down her soft face, tracing a wet line from
her eyes along her chin and finally sliding off her face and down onto her bare
chest. She sobbed softly a few times as Leonard wrapped his familiar muscular
arms under her armpits and covering each of her breasts with his massive hands.
They caressed and stroked Molly's warm virgin cleavage, tenderly scraping at her
nipples. He   F    looked at the side of Molly's face, admiring the light curve
of the young woman's delicate cheek, her MICROWSbloodshot, Odark brown eyes, her
thin lips. She sniffled quietly on more than one occasion, still fighting back
some of the tears she held. Leonard pulled her head toward his own, pressing his
lips against the cheek he had just been gazing upon, kissing her gently. The
chestnut skin was still moist with her tears, giving it a savory tang. Molly
closed her eyes as tightly as she could, her body wracked with sobs as she began
crying again.

	After a time, Leonard slid out from behind Molly and he rose, and then
strolled quietly over to the bag on the floor. Her eyes studied him in terror,
droplets of the salty tears streaming down her face. Molly wondered what he was
after, hoping that she would not see him turn around clutching a knife or
something of the like whose sole purpose was to do harm to her-sadistic or
otherwise. Instead, he stood and turned to her holding a digital camera. She
froze momentarily, desperately afraid of her forced exposure being archived with
pictures. He held the camera up to his eye, the opaque black lens watching her
with a cold, unblinking gaze. Molly, against her better judgment, crossed her
arms over her breasts and rolled on her side, facing the wall opposite Leonard.
A flash ensued a split second after; temporarily engulfing her in a white abyss,
signifying the first of many pictures Molly knew would be taken of her. She
instantly regretted hiding herself, afraid of what her kidnapper could do to her
in such a helpless predicament. She began to quietly hyperventilate upon hearing
his heavy boots' slow approach against the solid floor, each ominous footstep
increasing in loudness as Leonard came closer. He leaned over her shivering body
and she curled up, waiting for him to punish her in some physical or verbal way.
She tightened her fearful curl with each hot breath of air she felt on her
slender neck, his face drawing nearer and nearer to hers. She flinched upon
hearing his voice, expecting a more wrathful tone in it than there actually was.
Instead, his voice was gentle, with an unexpected tolerance, like she was in a
game and had accidentally broken a minor rule, and Leonard was her teammate
calmly explaining to her. "I suppose you don't want me to take pictures of your
front."

	Not knowing how else to respond, she replied with a simple:
"No...please..." which came out as a high-pitched whisper.

	His next response was as unpredicted as the prior. "Will you roll over
on your tummy?"

	Not knowing how else to respond, she replied with a simple:
"No...please..." which came out as a high-pitched whisper.

	His next response was as unpredicted as the prior. "Will you roll over
on your tummy?"

	"How-how come?"

	"I just want you to. I won't take off your underwear, and I can't see
your breasts. There's no harm in it, is there?"

	Molly carefully shook her head. "I...I guess not...are you going to hurt
me?"

	Leonard chuckled. "No, at the moment, I won't hurt you in any way."

	Molly noticed the extra 'at the moment' he threw in, but accepted it. In
her current situation, there was little else she could do. Leonard spoke once
again, the understanding tone of his voice becoming increasingly eerie with its
persistence. She complied with his request, slowly lifting herself up and
straightening herself out from the ball she was just in, attempting to lie out
flat on the uneven surface of the chair. Leonard noticed the awkward position
Molly would have to be in to lay on her tummy, which prompted him to lean down
and adjust the backing of the chair so it was parallel with the floor. Because
of the curve where a person's knees would normally go when laying on their back
in the chair, Molly had to hang her head over the backing. This was so the
curves (where her legs become the tops of her feet) would be comfortable.

	It was quite obvious that her body, stripped almost entirely of clothes,
was giving Leonard quite a hard-on. Molly froze as she felt him run the tips of
his fingers across her back, from her shoulders to her tailbone, not quite
massaging but instead producing a cold shiver to generate in her back and flow
through her body. Slowly, he mounted her, the material of the chair's surface
squeaking beneath his weight. He lowered himself upon her back, sliding his
hands up along her arms. Her muscles tensed and the girl froze as his hands
found her bare shoulders and gently brushed her hair off to one side. Casually,
deliberately, he exhaled across her slim neck, letting the warm air caress the
soft skin. Then his lips found her neck, and tenderly kissed the delicate flesh,
quietly luxuriating in the tinge of sweetness in its taste. Molly didn't move,
she didn't even breath unless she absolutely had to-she could feel his erect
penis through his pants, the solid bump pressing against her petite buttocks. It
terrified her, in a way, for the concept of truly having that man's penis fully
inserted in there was one of her worst fears.

	Then, slowly, he slid off the side of the chair and picked up the
camera, which was lying at his side. Now kneeling beside the chair, he picked up
the camera and directed it at the motionless woman lying there. His first
picture was of her back, broad and smooth, the tan line of her bikini top still
lightly crossing it. The next was a close-up of her face; her eyes were closed
tightly, her cheeks were still stained with drying tears. For the third, he had
her raise her head while he kneeled in front of her and took a picture of her
face, looking down across her back and legs. The next showcased her legs and
butt. Finally, she felt a gentle pulling sensation at her foot. Leonard grasped
her slender ankle and lifted her left foot off the chair and into the air, which
was followed by his removal of the red flip-flop. The process was repeated for
the other foot. Upon placing them back down upon the chair, they were facing
sole-up; the soft flesh wrinkled beautifully, her toes slightly scrunched
against the ball of her foot. Leonard went back to his camera, taking two quick
shots of her feet.

	"Why are you taking pictures of me?" Molly looked up at him
inquisitively.

	"I will be printing these out and selling them also. Of course, I'll be
leaving some for the rest of the men that remain here."

	Leonard adjusted his position and took a third picture of Molly's bare
soles, which prompted another question. "How come you're taking so many pictures
of my feet?"

	"You happen to have very pretty feet, and therefore I'm taking pictures
of them, because there are quite a few guys around here that love feet. I
personally don't have a fetish for feet. Though I am particularly fond of seeing
cuties like you tied up and gagged."

	Molly nodded half-understandingly. "What...what will happen to me? To
us? Jenna and I, I mean?" The words emerged from her mouth reluctantly, as if
she feared the answer.

	"Like I said, you'll be sold at an auction. From there, I have no idea.
I, however, will be accompanying you. However, now I need you to roll over."

	Molly was appalled. "No! Please don't make me, please!"

	Leonard shook his head. "Look, Molly. You're going to have worse things
done to you than a few pictures. And if you don't roll over, I'm going to have
to make you."

	Molly's eyes welled up with tears in anticipation of being physically
harmed for not exposing herself to the stranger. It was just so morally evil,
being made to strip because someone would torture her if she didn't.
"O-ok...just don't hurt me."

	So slowly, she shifted her weight and gently turned over, the familiar
wave of shame inundating Molly once again as she watched him admiring her petite
breasts. Leonard smiled to himself, she had such a sexy little body, and he
wished he could keep her all for herself. But, he could not-and therefore he
decided that times spent without her could be substituted with the photos he was
taking.

	He raised the backing of the chair slowly, elevating her body into an
upright position, her legs and feet still sticking out straight. Once again,
Molly watched in frightened anticipation as Leonard returned to the bag on the
floor, lowering his hands into the unknown, digging about in the blackness for
another object to torment Molly mentally with. What he revealed was not quite
what Molly expected-it was a roll of duct tape and two pairs of handcuffs. He
approached her and kneeled at her feet, taking her right ankle and sliding it
outward, to the right side of the chair. The handcuffs sang an off-key hymn with
their quiet jangling, praising their purpose in existence: to caress the skin of
a young woman with their icy metal grasp, and keep that woman's freedom
restricted. He snapped the handcuff around her ankle and gently tugged her foot
toward the side, securing it to the chair's underside. Then he moved to the
other side, repeating the process with her left foot. Now, her legs were
slightly spread, though not lewdly-not as if his intent was to spread the thin
lips of her tender vagina until all folds within the soft flesh were exposed.

	Next, Leonard crawled to her side and held her wrist on the armrest of
the chair. "Hold your arm right there." Needless to say, Molly's options were
severely limited, and she held her arm in place upon the chair. Leonard peeled a
small segment of tape off the roll and smoothed it onto her slim wrist. Then,
with a formidably-sized two- or three-inch segment of tape was smoothed on her
skin and still coming off the roll, he wrapped the tape around the armrest,
effectively securing her hands to the cold leathery feeling of the chair's
material. A quick rip with his teeth and the tape was severed, and he smoothed
the loose flap of the tape onto the rest of the wrapped part. "Lift your right
arm."

	Molly obeyed, attempting to raise the arm that was secured to the chair,
but experienced no success. He smiled and moved to her other side, repeating the
process on that arm. When Molly's body was fully immobilized, Leonard stood
back, admiring the beautiful, almost completely nude woman bound to the chair
before him. She looked at him, her terror still as obvious as before. There were
so many things that could be done to her in his possession, the prospect of rape
still omnipresent in her mind. She was convinced that the situation was a
nightmare, a horrible and realistic nightmare that she would soon awaken from.
It had seemed like such an obscure concept, the notion of being kidnapped had
previously been impossible-it would never happen to her. Now she lay, exposed,
in front of the man who had abducted her. She knew men in school admired her
beauty, but at least they looked away if she caught them staring at her. But
this man-he simply stood in front of her, staring directly at her naked breasts
with an enormous bulge in his pants.

	Leonard momentarily broke his gaze at her chest for a moment to look
into her face. "Now, I'm going to remove your underwear." His statement was
simple yet effective-the very meaning overwhelmed her with a sensation of shame
that she had never felt before. "No! I...I...I don't want you to! Please...just
let me go..." Molly's voice was sweet, a harmoniously innocent voice, tinted
with a tone implying that she'd been corrupted by forced exposure, but Leonard
was unfazed by it. He slid his hand into his pocket, and when it returned it was
holding a pocketknife. Molly whimpered and began squirming as much as she could
as he leaned over, pulling her torso away from him, but to no avail. The blade
slid out of its housing, glimmering in the orange light of the candles,
approaching her body menacingly, threatening Molly with something much worse
than death. But the knife found its target-the thin material of her soft
underwear-and slit downward, slicing the band of the undergarment, then the
cloth, on the part against her right thigh. The underwear, now severed, lost its
elasticity and the front fell forward. Her vagina was still covered, much to her
appreciation, but he quickly brought the knife to the opposite thigh and slit
the underwear there as well. Her sex was revealed as the cloth that covered it
fell fully forward. Leonard reached forward and took the loose cloth and pulled
on it, gently yanking it out from beneath her butt at the same time. Then, the
severed undergarment was discarded.

	Molly was now fully nude upon the chair. Leonard was gazing at her pussy
lustfully, quite pleased with the bare flesh. Her skin was shaved, with not even
a trace of stubble. He leaned forward on the chair, bracing himself on one hand
while reaching for her sex with the other. Gently, he ran his hand along the
soft skin of her warm thighs, damp and sweaty from her legs being together for
so long. Then, with an excruciatingly slow pace, he reached to the flesh around
her tight slit. The feeling was foreign to Molly, his cold fingers stirred up an
alien sensation, a strongly contradicting pair of emotions in her mind at the
same time. In one aspect, she was overwhelmed with intense shame; but in another
way, she found it vaguely pleasurable. Either way, his hand was an unwelcome
object in a private place. Despite the knowledge that it would be futile, Molly
tried to pull her legs together, her delicate ankles straining against the
ever-oppressive metal. It had become all too apparent that all things metal were
assisting in enslaving her-the knife had threatened to end her life had she not
cooperated in Jenna's house; the handcuffs had held her hands behind her back so
she could not resist being taken away from her home; now the handcuffs held her
legs open so her kidnapper could touch her virgin areas.

	Molly watched in dismay as his pointer and middle finger became one,
gently parting her lips, pushing between them, and sliding into her gently.
Molly whimpered softly at the penetration, her muscles tightening around the
unfamiliar objects, as they pressed deeper into her passage. Suddenly, the girl
yelped as Leonard's fingers reached their full depth and sent a sharp pain
through her pussy. He pulled back quickly, still keeping his fingers down inside
her, but looking into her face. "Are you a virgin?"

	Molly, although not believing it was any of his business, nodded her
head without a word. Leonard, satisfied, finally withdrew and retrieved the
ever-invasive camera. Her naked body was prone to its black, reflective eye. It
concentrated on her, centered itself on her pussy, stared at her with its
ever-unblinking gaze. Then, another flash of light and her exposed body was
captured on film.

	Leonard set the camera off to the side and looked upon her body. "Now, I
need just one more picture." He unbuttoned his pants quickly, then unzipped it,
and pulled the pants down around his ankles. Beneath his boxers, an erect cock
stood tall, straining against the oppressive undergarment. She looked upon the
tent sticking out from his midsection in disgust. It took only a moment for the
boxers to join his pants. Leonard's dick was massive, about two inches in
diameter and six inches long. Molly was terrified that he would try to ram that
thing into her little pussy-there was no way he could have sex with her with
that thing and not tear her open.

	Instead, he surprised her by crawling up on the chair atop her, kneeling
over her with her hips between his legs. His squishy ball sack rested on her
smooth belly while his dick was pointing outward toward her face. Leonard wasted
no time reaching down to his wood and wrapping his fingers around it. Molly
slowly pieced together his intentions. "What are you doing to me?"

	Leonard paused, lightly caressing his cock. "You'll see. Don't worry;
you'll have plenty of time to grow accustomed to it. I promise." He then
proceeded to jerk up and down on his dick with his left hand while caressing her
breast with his right. Molly was appalled at what was about to happen to her.
His hand moved up across her chest and along her shoulder, lightly grazing her
delicate skin. He ran his fingers down along her arm, across her duct tape
binding, and to the top of her hand. His pleasurable jerking continued with
unwavering steadiness as he felt the oppressive tape around her wrist. It
suddenly occurred to Molly that her being tied to the chair was what was getting
him off-she remembered him saying how he liked seeing women tied up and gagged.

	Then, abruptly, he reached up to her head and grabbed clump of her hair,
holding it tightly against the backing of the chair. She knew he was about to
reach climax. She tried desperately to turn her head, keep it far from the semen
that was about to be fired at her face, but her attempts were in vain. He held
her hair too tightly. His grip tightened as he exploded, firing his load across
her chest. She yelped, startled, but his cock was like a cannon, firing the
first sticky shot across her breasts, and then a second one into her face. Molly
was miserable, feeling the slimy liquid drool down her once fragile features. A
third ejaculation was shot upon her neck. After three more eruptions, Leonard
relaxed and released her hair. Molly's head drooped in misery, her body soiled,
her mind overwhelmed with humiliation. Leonard reached down and picked up his
camera. "Look at me." He aimed it at her chest and face and took a picture,
capturing the image of her pretty face and petite tits dripping with cum. Her
eyes were blank and spiritless, her face expressionless. "Now, Molly, it's time
to get you cleaned up. Your auction will be soon, and we can't be late."

Gone



Part Three

	Upon hearing this, Molly's heart sank. It was a miserable thought,
knowing that she would be sold to some stranger, as an object caught up in an
evil and immoral business. She could not even begin to fathom the horrors that
awaited her upon reaching her new home-a sleazy, run-down apartment building in
New York? An ancient castle perched high atop a jagged black mountain peak in
Scotland, owned by a lustful old king? There was an endless list of potential
locations Molly could end up at the end of her hellish odyssey.

	Leonard, who was still balanced upon her chest, produced a rag from his
back pocket and wiped it across her face, interrupted her thoughts. The semen
he'd unloaded on the girl had yet to dry, and came off in the form of slimy
globs. Molly did not speak, nor cry, nor whimper. She sat motionless, glad to
have the disgusting fluid removed from her body. Slowly, the last degrading
traces of semen were cleaned from her skin and the rag was discarded. Then, the
process of removing Molly from her restraint began. The knife appeared, that
ever-effective blade, slicing the duct tape from her wrists; a key appeared,
releasing the shackles around her ankles. Although still in Leonard's
possession, Molly felt free.

	Leonard, without so much as a word to the girl, walked to the door and
opened it. The way he turned his head toward her and stood off to the side
implied that they were both leaving the room, and that Molly was to lead. She
obeyed without question, slowly making her way from the center of the room,
being stopped by Leonard as she passed him. He took her wrist and held his
clenched fist above it, indicating that she open her hand palm-up. Like usual,
she saw no option other than to obey, and Leonard handed her a small pill.
Without even a word, he pushed her through the open door. The cement was cold
beneath Molly's soft bare feet and the icy shadows seemed to claw at her nude
body. Leonard, after closing and locking the door, pulled Molly so she was
facing him. He closely watched her put the pill in her mouth and swallow it,
before taking hold of both of her wrists. She made no attempt to resist as he
produced a pair of handcuffs and slapped them on her, binding her hands together
once more. After securing the shackles, he looked into her face. "Just in case."

	The remainder of the building showcased the same miserable drab ambiance
as the first few hallways had. The activity here seemed to be perpetual, as the
few windows Molly passed displayed the same bustling activity that she had seen
the first time she'd walked these deteriorated hallways. The walk was long, a
ten-minute or so trudge through the dismal structure, with the same monotonous
view of closed doors to her left and the occasional window to her right.

	Leonard stopped her before a heavy, dark brown door, with an aura of
intimidation about it similar to that of a gateway leading into another
dimension. "Since duct tape is usually the favorite among the buyers in terms of
gags, that's what I'll be using to exhibit you." Molly was angered by his word
choice-he was going to exhibit her like an object, a toy of high visual sex
appeal. Though her blood was still boiling, she was powerless and accepted it,
closing her mouth so the tape could be applied to her face.

	With that done, Leonard opened the door, revealing to Molly the room
beyond. The first thing she noticed was the line of chairs. About nine were
lined up in a single row against the wall to the left of her, a space between
two of the chairs so the door could be accessed.

	Then, there were the machines in front of the chairs. There were two of
them, identical in appearance. Closer examination revealed that they were not
machines at all. There were two hassocks, each upholstered with crimson velvet.
Behind each hassock was a set of stocks, in front of each hassock was a pair of
adjustable leather straps anchored to the floor. Above each hassock hung a heavy
metal chain from an iron ring that was bolted to the ceiling. Beneath each
hassock was also a large pillow, its case the same material as the kind the
hassock was upholstered with.

	Leonard led the girl toward the hassocks. "Kneel on one of the hassocks,
facing the chairs. Your knees should be on the hassock, your ankles in the holes
in the stocks. Slowly, Molly approached the hassock, her shepherd following
close behind. As her hands were manacled together in front of her, Molly was
able to climb onto the hassock on all fours, and then crawl backwards slowly
until both ankles were resting in the curve of the holes in the bottom part of
the stocks. Satisfied with their position, Leonard closed the stocks and locked
it, holding Molly's feet in place. Then, he moved to the front of her and took
the small length of chain on the handcuffs holding her wrists together. Gently,
he coaxed her wrists upward until she was kneeling completely upright and her
arms were pulled straight, and put the chain into the metal 'U' part of an open
MASTER lock. Then, he hooked the lock around a high link of the heavy chain
hanging from the ceiling, effectively making it so Molly could not relax even a
small amount. Leonard moved in front of her and looked at her. It was a
beautiful sight, her soft tan face complimented by the nervous look in her eyes,
and especially complimented by the silver strip of tape pressed across her
dainty mouth. Leonard was especially pleased with the way he could make out the
impression of her lips through the gag, the way the curves of her mouth were
visible through the tape. And what he loved even more was that her wrists were
handcuffed high above her head, but she so desperately wished to remove the
tape. Leonard had restricted her movement, restricted her very freedom. She was
his prisoner, and he loved her helplessness. It was so sexy. A glistening sweat
was forming gradually on her nude body. She feared him. He had proven to Molly
that he was her master, and that he could-and would-do what he wanted with her.

	Molly hung her head in shame, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to
look upon her body. It renewed the humiliation she felt for being so exposed.
Leonard thought for a moment, thinking about the physical appearance of the men
that would be the potential buyers of the young woman. His words came
cautiously, and when they did, the question surprised him. "Would you like a
blindfold?" It was a meager stab at being humane, but it would do. It would
prevent Molly from seeing the men for at least a little while, but eventually
they would want to see it off.

	Molly looked up at him and nodded weakly, then watched him step back and
look around. "Hm... I believe there's one in the preparation room. I'll be right
back." He turned and exited through the door they had just entered, leaving
Molly in shackles and alone. She thought for a moment, now that all was silent
except for the dull roar of the machinery outside. She had gone to her friend
Jenna's house. Jenna had been forced to trick her into doing so. They had both
been kidnapped. Molly had been stripped and masturbated on, brought to a room,
then placed in shackles in order to be sold. The cold metal of the handcuffs bit
into her wrists once more, taunting her. Holding her hands high; exposing her;
keeping her from covering her private parts.

	The door opened suddenly and Jenna was pushed in, followed by Greg. She
too was nude, probably the victim of a semen bath as well, except she bore light
red marks upon her cheek and her eyes were puffy and red. A duct tape gag had
been applied to her, along with handcuffs, like Molly. It seemed that there was
an accepted method among these kidnappers.

	The two women met eyes for a moment, both too fearful to feel
embarrassed about the other's nakedness. Jenna was then shoved roughly over to
the hassock beside Molly. "Kneel on the hassock with your ankles in the holes of
the stocks." Greg set down a duffel bag similar to Leonard's and walked over to
the stocks. Jenna meekly obeyed his command, gently lowering herself upon the
hassock and placing her ankles in position. Greg pushed the top part down and
secured her ankles, then violently yanked the poor girl's hands into position
and locked them to the chain dangling above them. Greg was much more abusive
than Leonard had been-the way he jerked the handcuffs up almost certainly
would've drawn blood, but surprisingly it didn't.

	As Molly watched, Greg stood in front of her and looked down at Jenna's
prone tit. Gently, with an abrupt personality change, he reached out and stroked
her soft cleavage kindly, running his fingers around her nipple cautiously then
cupping his hand over her breast and carefully massaging it. "You know,
Jenna..." His voice was calm and soothing, almost like Leonard's. "...In the
future, if you resist the way you did while I was preparing you, you're not
going to make it very far." At the end of the sentence, he scowled angrily, his
eyes ignited with flames, and clenched crushingly on her boob. The girl yelped
and released a prolonged wail into the tape that lasted until he released it.
The cleavage was now red, surrounded by five small indents where Greg's
fingernails had dug into her soft flesh. She drooped her head and began crying
softly, her body jerking with every sob. Greg smiled sadistically-it was an evil
smile, like the grin of a villain-while he watched her cry. He seemed amused
that she was hanging her head, but soon lost interest and found something new to
do.

	He kneeled behind Jenna with his gaze locked on her feet. They were
locked in the stocks, well immobilized. His eyes followed the curve of her arch,
along the rounded heel, then back along the sole of her foot to her toes. His
eyes studied each one, starting with her big toe and moving to the little toe.
"Yeah, you've got really cute feet..." He looked upon the bare foot for a moment
before sticking out his tongue and drawing it from the ball her foot along the
arch, to the heel. Molly noticed Jenna didn't so much as flinch while Greg's
tongue caressed her foot, but suspected that she'd wanted to. It appeared to be
quite a ticklish sensation.

	Greg pulled his head back and put his hand up his shirt, wiping her sole
off with the makeshift rag. When it was cleaned off of his saliva, Greg stood
and his attention shifted to Molly. She had been watching attentively, her head
turned in the direction of her friend and her eyes locked on Greg's face. She
quickly looked away as Jenna's aggressor now looked over Molly's body from head
to toe. And his gaze lingered on her soles, locked in place in the stocks,
vulnerable to his unquenchable lust for feet. "Hm...who are you?" Greg strolled
casually over to Molly, looking now at her face. She had turned her head away
from the man, but nonetheless he stopped so his body was facing hers, making no
attempt to walk into her line of sight. He instead took her chin between his
thumb and forefinger and turned her head toward him, slowly, as if to admire
every crease and curve of her face while it moved. "You two are in High School,
aren't you?"

	Greg still held her chin, but Molly was able to nod gently. Her head
wasn't able to move an exceptional amount, but it was enough to get her message
across.

	"I remember High School. Those were the fun years...let me tell you a
story." Molly remained quiet, her eyes on his. In her peripheral vision, she
could see that Jenna was also looking up at Greg. "In the winter, all the cuties
like you bundled up real tight-you wore your little sweaters and long pants and,
worst of all, shoes. It wasn't a very good way to see women dressed. Then...ohh
yes, then summer came around. In High School, that is a great time of the year.
Hot teenage women dressed in short shorts, tight t-shirts, and flip-flops. You
both wear flip-flops in the summer, don't you?"

	Molly and Jenna both nodded. "And in class, do you sit in the front row,
or somewhere within the first few rows?" Another synchronized nod from the two
terrified women. "You teenage women have great habits. Think about this: you're
sitting in class. You're bored, absent-mindedly playing with your flip-flops.
You slip them off, you 'sit on your tip-toes', if you will. The pretty soles of
your feet are now revealed to everyone sitting behind you. Your toes roll over,
so now the tops of them are against the floor. Now, every inch of your bare sole
is exposed to everyone sitting behind you. They're scrunched up, wrinkled
beautifully, and everyone behind you can see them. Everyone. And I can guarantee
AT LEAST one of the people behind you was looking at those bare, beautiful feet.
Daydreaming about touching them, smelling them, licking them. And when I was in
High School, I was one of those people. I would gaze longingly at them from the
moment they appeared to the moment they were pushed back into their flip-flops.
Tell me Molly, if a guy came up to you and offered to give you a free foot
massage, would you let him? A guy you don't know, who will rub your feet for
absolutely free. He won't ask you on a date, he won't ask for sex afterward, he
just wants to rub your feet. Would you allow him this one desire?"

	Molly thought for a moment, considering the men she'd seen at her school
but never known. She would think it quite odd, but as it had never happened, she
didn't have a straight answer. Therefore, she spoke an "I don't know" into the
gag. It was muffled, but the sound was enough to express Molly's answer. Greg,
with his right hand still holding her chin, lifted her head so she was looking
directly at him again and shook his head. "That isn't an answer. Yes or no."

	This time, her answer was a 'no'. She didn't want a strange guy rubbing
her body...it just seemed too intimate. She shook her head lightly. Greg
released her chin and, with his left hand, brought it across her face. The blow
startled Molly and she yelped in surprise. Before she even began crying, Greg
had her by the throat, slightly lower than he'd been holding her chin but not
low enough as to choke her. Tears trickled down her face but she did not sob, as
she was in a state of temporary shock.

	"It's cunts like you that made my High School years such torment." His
voice was raised and irritated. "You fucking whores wear your little flip-flops
and show off those pretty little feet of yours. But when a guy asks you if he
can touch your feet, he's the jerk. You think your feet are royal property, too
good for anyone but your stupid dumbass jock boyfriends." Greg seemed to become
amused-his voice calmed and that evil grin returned to his face. "If you were
sitting in class and I leaned down and touched your feet, or licked them, you
would move them. And you would spread around the school that I was a freak. A
weirdo. Looks like I get to have my revenge, Molly." He released her throat and
stepped behind her, his vision aimed downward. She knew what he was looking at.
"You can't move your feet. I can touch them all I want and you can't move them.
And I have nothing to worry about, because I don't have to worry about what you
and your preppy little friends think of me. I own you."

	The door opened suddenly, startling Molly, who was deeply concentrating
on Greg's speech. Greg turned his head and watched as Leonard stepped in. The
two men met eyes and Leonard motioned to the open door with his head. "Clark
wants the pictures you took of Jenna. Besides, the auction starts in a few
minutes. I gotta finish prepping Molly."

	Greg looked back down at Molly's face, then leaned forward so his ear
was beside hers. "Those pretty little feet of yours will be mine, soon..." His
whisper was cold and lustful, tinted by the tone of promise. He stepped away and
collected his bag, then was out the door without a word. Leonard closed the
heavy wood door behind him, removing a bandanna from his back pocket while
turning to Molly. As he approached, his eyes narrowed on her face. The tears
were still trickling down her face and her cheek stung as Leonard reached up and
lightly grazed it with his fingers.

	"Did Greg hit you?" Molly was slightly soothed by his voice, knowing
that he wouldn't strike her the way his friend had. She nodded slowly. "How many
times? Once?" Another nod. Leonard shook his head disappointingly. "God damn
him. I've told the administration, but Greg's a good kidnapper. I agree with
them there, but I hate the way he bruises the merchandise." He stepped around
behind the shackled woman, twisting the bandanna. "All right Molly, close your
eyes."

	She did so, and suddenly, it was like she was in the bag in the van. The
auction room disappeared, replaced by a shroud of blackness. The bandanna was
pulled tightly around her head, then tied in back. The knot was a solid bump in
the back of her head, a tight ball that assured Molly that it would not come
undone.



	With Molly squared away, Leonard stepped around the front of her to
admire the view. Of course, Molly looked even sexier with the dark blue bandanna
on, and Leonard received another wave of stimulation upon recognizing that he
could do anything he wanted to her and she wouldn't see, only feel...but no, the
auction would start soon. He moved to Jenna and looked her over, noticing in
particular that her handcuffs were locked to the hanging chain much higher than
they should've been. Her hands were becoming quite discolored and, Leonard
assumed, quite numb. "Did you struggle against Greg while he was stripping you?"

	The girl nodded a few times, her black hair flowing gently back and
forth. Leonard knew what had happened. "Fucking Christ...your wrists are way too
high. They must hurt by now." Jenna moaned softly, a pitiful whine through her
gag. Leonard pulled out his keys and reached to the lock. "I'm only going to do
this for you if you keep your hands up. If you cooperate, I'll lower your hands,
but they still have to be handcuffed to the chain. If a girl struggles while
he's preparing her, Greg tends to get pretty pissed off and put the lock a
little too high." Jenna nodded, clearly grateful to Leonard's amiable attitude,
as opposed to Greg's abusive disposition. He slid the key into the mechanism in
the bottom of the lock, turned it, and the lock popped off. When reaching for
the lock, it slipped off the chain and fell to the floor with a loud thud. He
noticed Molly jump and look in their direction, but with the blindfold across
her eyes, she couldn't see anything. "Don't worry, Molly. I'm not hurting your
friend."

	Jenna gently lowered herself down on the backs of her calves, rather
than having her knees bent at a ninety-degree angle. While Leonard leaned over
to pick the lock up, Jenna lowered her hands cautiously, setting them on her
knees. As her hands were in such a tiring position, Leonard didn't reprimand her
for doing so. "All right, lift 'em up so you're sitting the way you were before,
but put your hands in a better location." Jenna complied, raising her body once
again and lifting her arms above her head, slightly lower than they had been
before. Leonard took the length of chain and locked it into the heavier chain
hanging from the ceiling and stepped back to admire his work. Jenna looked far
more comfortable in terms of physical orientation, and whoever bought her
wouldn't have to see the deep handcuff marks in her wrists. That was one thing
about Leonard-he could kidnap the women without a second thought, rape them
until his balls shriveled up, but he always tried to keep his women in good
condition until they were sold. Then it was no longer his problem. And
considering he would be traveling with the women wherever they were sold to, he
wanted to keep Molly in good order so he could enjoy her later, without the time
limit he was oppressed by in the preparation room.

	Before leaving, he remembered one final thing. He reached to his back
pocket and pulled out a second blindfold, which he'd retrieved for Jenna.
"Jenna, tilt your head forward. I'm going to blindfold you." He spoke while
spinning the bandanna between his hands, watching her obediently bow her head.
The cloth eagerly covered her eyes, then wrapped around her soft black hair.
Leonard, after tying the blindfold, stood back and admired the two women in
shackles before him. Alone, Molly or Jenna's naked bound bodies were
irresistible. Together, the sight was an indescribable one, a pair of kidnapped
beauties helpless to save themselves. Yes, Leonard looked forward to having
them, and his time away from the dock would be memorable.



	Molly could only make out a dim light beneath her blindfold, but the
sliver of light was not enough to reveal anything to her. She heard Leonard
moving away from them after blindfolding Jenna, toward the center of the room,
then the door opened. At first, she thought Leonard had left the two alone, but
was quickly confirmed incorrect upon hearing an unfamiliar voice. "Are they
ready?"

	There was a pause-she assumed that Leonard was looking them over
again-before he spoke. "Yeah. Greg handcuffed that one too high up on the chain,
so I had to lower the lock. Other than that, they're good to go."

	"All right, I'll tell the guys that we're ready to begin the pre-auction
look over." Molly heard Clark exit the room, and Leonard moved away, and then
there was silence. Molly heard him go to the wall, but didn't hear him exit the
room. Instead, the chamber became silent except for Leonard's quiet breathing
and the louder breathing noises the women made through their noses.

	Suddenly, Molly heard a door open. It wasn't the one that lead back to
the preparation rooms, it sounded more like the one ahead of her. And that was,
indeed, the case. She heard Clark walk in, and what sounded like an unknown
number of other men following behind him. "These two were taken just a couple
hours ago. The one on the left is Jenna-a seventeen-year-old, very cute. The one
on the right is Molly Mathias-the daughter of Daniel Mathias, owner of the
Polaris Shipping Corporation. Seventeen also. They are thought to be virgins-is
this correct, ladies?"

	Molly nodded, not knowing how she could benefit from saying she wasn't.
It was a personal question that she didn't think some stranger should be asking
her-but at this point, she was almost accustomed to having her privacy violated
in one way or another. She felt a man approach her slowly, probably looking over
her nude body like she was a piece of meat. "Hm...we'll just see about that.
These little ones are pretty damn hot and I'll be surprised if they haven't
fucked anyone yet." Suddenly, Molly tensed. She felt something in proximity to
her vagina, something big. The terrible truth struck her like a bag of
bricks-she was going to be raped. The man was going to insert his penis into her
to see if she was as tight as a virgin. Molly felt sick, knowing her poor pussy
was about to be violated by a stranger whose face she could not even see.

	Instead of raping her, however, Molly tensed at the contact of the man's
fingers against her inner thigh, dangerously close to her pussy. His touch was
cold, biting in a way. The intrusive and foreign sensation slowly made its way
up her thigh and around her vaginal lips, curiously sliding across her soft
flesh. Then his fingers gently caressed each of her silky cunt lips, scratching
benevolently with his fingernails. Finally, he spread the lips wide, pulling
apart the delicate wet folds of her inner pussy. Molly was slowly passing into a
state of mild shock--she never before even imagined such a humiliation; never
fathomed a feeling of shame similar to the feeling that was overwhelming her at
that moment. This wasn't the way she had pictured her first sexual encounter
with a man.

	She thought she would meet the perfect man, not a jock or idiot, but a
perfect guy. He wouldn't pressure her into sex, and would tell her that they
would only do it when she was completely ready. If she were ever thinking about
them doing it, he would console her and tell her it was okay if they didn't have
sex THAT day, and that he loved her even if they NEVER had sex. And when they
did finally have sex, he would treat her to a romantic dinner then bring her to
a quiet, isolated place where they would do it. That was her dream.

	This was her nightmare.

	Now she was shackled and gagged in front of an unknown number of strange
men. Her vagina, once reserved for the most respectful man, was wide open to a
group of perverts that considered her an object. The man slowly pressed his
finger up into her hole, sliding up into her passage, deep into the depths of
her womanhood. She could feel the vile sensation pushing further and further
into her until it reached its end, a tight collection of muscles completely
inward. Molly yelped and the sudden pang of pain--but the man wormed around a
bit before withdrawing. "She feels like a virgin. I'll try this one." Molly was
relieved, in a way to hear him withdraw. She still didn't want her friend to be
examined in such a degrading manner, though. She heard the man walk a few steps
to the right, then Jenna's alarmed gasp as the inspector began feeling around
her as well. After a moment, Molly heard a footstep of withdrawal away from
Jenna. "They're both unused."

	"Well, men. You have three minutes to look them over. But don't hit them
or mark them."

	"With pleasure." A new voice, laden with a lustful foreboding, triggered
a swarm of men to inundate Molly. The first thing she felt was of many hands
upon her. Some felt around her inner thighs, squeezing and rubbing gently.
Fingers traced her vaginal lips, some lightly penetrating her. Another hand
found its way to her buttocks, groping the velvety skin antagonistically. Her
legs were caressed delicately; her back was studied carefully. Some men reached
up and examined her hands, which were clenched into fists, but she obediently
opened them on command. Her petite breasts were handled and squeezed, their
firmness tested. What seemed to attract most of the hands were her feet, though.
Molly wasn't surprised, really. They pulled apart her toes and felt between
them, they gently stroked the flesh, studying the softness. She could feel noses
pressed against the sole as the men smelled the balls and arches. Molly was
passive, accepting her assigned role as an insignificant object to these men.

	Jenna, on the other hand, was more resistant to the inhumane treatment.
Molly heard her squirm around in her shackles, yelling into the tight gag and
begin bucking savagely.

	Then, she was silent. The men continued inspecting the women, but Jenna
was quiet. Clark broke the silence. "Works every time. If they're gagged, just
hold their nostrils shut." Molly was mortified to hear this. Jenna had
suffocated, her breathing cut off by her kidnapper. She hoped her friend was all
right, and wished she could do something to help her. Clark interrupted her
thoughts. "The auction is starting momentarily. Everyone is here. Take off the
blindfolds, so their faces can be seen. Take the unconscious one's gag off, she
won't wake up soon."

	And in that instant, Molly spent a brief fraction of a second in heaven.
She was immersed in a brilliant white light that covered her entire body, and
she was forced to squint in shock. Slowly, her vision returned to normal, and
the true explanation behind the light was revealed. A large halogen light above
her body was on, illuminating her body so its true beauty could be appreciated.
Once her eyes adjusted, she looked around at the men that were touching her.

	There was Clark, off to the side; as well as Leonard, who hadn't moved
from his spot by the wall. There were five men surrounding her and Jenna, two
were sitting down already. Three of the five men were analyzing Jenna's body,
the other two were probing around Molly. With the second woman unconscious, the
men were able to explore previously inaccessible areas on her. One man kneeled
at her side, his hand on her butt cheek, one finger lodged deeply in the cleft
of her anus. Molly was disgusted to determine that his hand was so close to her
butt that the only way the entire finger could fit between her cheeks was if it
was actually up in her asshole. Jenna simply kneeled there, unconscious, while
her anal passage was violated freely. The other two men were either further
examining her feet or her breasts--they were slightly larger than Molly's, firm
and protrusive. Not big enough to sag, but large enough to be noticeable.

	And a few moments later, the men took their seats, and Molly was left
alone beneath the harsh silver light and lustful gazes. Clark walked over
between Molly and Jenna, and then faced the audience. When he cleared his
throat, Molly turned and looked at him. "Does anyone object to these two being
sold as a pair, rather than individually?"

	No response. After all, they were very pretty girls. Leonard, who had
been silent for a time, stepped forward. "Would you like me to change their
position?"

	Clark nodded. Yeah. Do the unconscious one first."

	Leonard swiftly strolled over to Jenna, pulling his keys out of his
pocket as he did so. Quickly, he opened the stocks and released her handcuffs,
supporting the limp body as he lowered Jenna down. Then, he rolled her onto her
stomach, so she was bent over the hassock, her knees on the floor. Leonard
pulled the pillow out from under the hassock and placed it in front of the two
leather straps on the floor, then took her foot and placed it sole-up upon the
pillow. Then, he pulled the strap up and secured it tightly around her ankle.
The repositioning was repeated with the other foot. Finally, he took her arms,
which had been hanging loosely off either side of the hassock, placed her wrists
in the stocks, and then re-locked them.

	Then, he approached Molly. Molly planned on cooperating with him
completely, for two reasons. First of all, she still recognized the hopelessness
of her situation-if she tried to escape, one of the ten or so guys would stop
her, and probably with quite a bit of force. Secondly, Leonard had treated her
well during her situation, despite the ejaculation on her face. When he released
her handcuffs, Molly lowered herself down and slowly turned around on the
hassock. Leonard helped her down, but she was fairly self- sufficient. Her
wrists were free, after all. Molly lowered herself upon the hassock and placed
her hands in the stocks, then let Leonard take over. He closed the stocks on her
wrists, and of course locked it, then strapped her ankles to the floor. She
blushed uncontrollably knowing that her vagina and asshole were exposed so
lewdly to the men behind her.

	The pillow was soft against the tops of her feet, and Molly wasn't
surprised to discover that her ankles were held so close to the floor, and so
tightly, that she was unable to move them. They were pressed against the pillow
so her soles were facing upward and wrinkled superbly. She could almost feel the
gaze of the men upon her foot bottoms. As Leonard stepped back after restraining
Molly, Clark began to speak once again.

	" Bidding starts at three-thousand apiece, making six-thousand,
increments of five-hundred dollars."

	Various numbers arose from the seven potential buyers. "Six-five."

	"Seven."

	"Eight."

	"Ten."

	"Eleven."

	"Twelve!"

	"Twelve-five." Slowly, the numbers increased. Molly squirmed
uncomfortably, knowing that she and Jenna were worth thousands of dollars apiece
to these rich perverts. She was no longer feeling shame; instead, the feeling
was like she was an organism consist of of shame.

	"Fourteen." The men were slowing down now.

	"Fourteen-five."

	"Fifteen." A long pause ensued.

	"Fifteen-five."

	"Sixteen." It was the final number, coming from the man on the far right
side. Clark hesitated for about five seconds, looking closely at each of the
men, waiting to hear 'sixteen-five'. But when he didn't hear it, he spoke.

	"Bidding has stopped at sixteen thousand dollars. Forced To Pleasure,
Inc. has offered eight thousand dollars for each woman. Do I hear
sixteen-thousand, five hundred dollars?" Another silence. Molly was nervous
about the name of the company that was purchasing her. 'Forced To Pleasure,
Inc.' was, she hoped, not what she thought it was. But her fate was no longer in
her hands. It was in Clark's. And his plan, as it seemed, was to sell her to
some company called 'Forced To Pleasure'. As much as she prayed she was wrong,
Molly knew she was going to a place that lived up to its promise--she would, in
fact, be forced to pleasure.

	"Sold!" Clark called, and it was final.

Gone

Part Four

	Molly's life earlier that day had been a lake, a crystal body of water
unhindered by any disturbance. And then, Forced To Pleasure Inc., like a rock,
had been thrown into the center of the mirror-like surface, the subsequent
result being an eruption, an outward ripple of concentric waves spreading shore
to shore from the epicenter.

	It was shortly after Clark announced that he and Leonard moved to the
two women-Leonard to Molly, Clark to Jenna-and began to release their bindings.
The stocks securing Molly's wrists in position were released, and her arms
swiftly pulled behind her and handcuffed; the straps around her ankles were
undone.

	Molly looked over to Jenna. As Clark was releasing her, she began
stirring gently, and then awoke. Her eyes were unfocused and she was quite
disoriented for a couple minutes, giving Clark enough time to fully restrain
her. Leonard roughly pulled Molly to her feet, and then turned her around so she
was facing the man that had just spent sixteen thousand dollars on the two
teenagers. He stood before them like a brick wall, about a foot taller than
Molly, and about double her width. He looked down on the helpless girl with a
gleam of lust and anger in his eyes indicating the malevolent treatment that
awaited her. Then, he spoke, his voice commanding, like each word uttered was an
invisible iron wall. "Kneel. Both of you."

	Jenna obeyed quietly and Molly fell to her knees instantly, her heart
pounding with terror. Her eyes, wide with fright, were locked on his face.
Still, he examined them with a cold stare, like they had both committed an
immensely offensive crime. "Now, ladies. Let me tell you who I am. My name is
Vincent. I am your new owner. I run a corporation called Forced To Pleasure,
Incorporated. As you two may have already deducted, you now belong to me, and I
will do with them as I wish. That is all I will tell you. My intentions for your
'unused' bodies will become apparent soon enough." He turned quickly to Leonard.
"Bring them to my boat, along with the other four." After his concise
introduction, Vincent turned and made a quiet yet hasty exit from the room.

	Both women were bound with handcuffs and ball gags, bright red spheres
stuffed in each dainty mouth and secured with a leather strap. Molly's mouth
barely accepted the gag, and her lips were tightly wrapped around the solid
plastic. Leonard moved to her side and took her elbow, gently coaxing her into a
standing position. The floor was cool against her bare soles and, for some
reason, she was reminded of the pleasure the bottoms of her feet and toes gave
the men.

	And so the ripples spread further. The women were led to yet another
hallway, no different from the other hallways of the building. The entire
facility was bland and drab, a miserable labyrinth of dismal passages and
depressingly repetitive surroundings. One hallway led to a new hallway,
identical to all the previous.

	Finally, there was an alteration in the redundant pattern. A pair of
iron doors at the end of one corridor, a gateway to something more promising.
Jenna and Molly were prodded forward, toward the end of the hall and whatever
awaited them beyond. Clark handed Jenna over to Leonard and stepped forward to
open the doors, and the two women were shoved through.

	The doors led to the exterior of the facility, a portion of the immense
dockyards Molly had seen repeatedly before. The temperature had cooled
noticeably since their kidnappings earlier that evening. A chill in the air
greeted both women, and the ground was pavement, rough under Molly's sensitive
soles, and the combined shocking coolness provoked a shiver from each girl. A
breeze slithered sneakily between the massive crates aligned in rows beside the
building and embraced Molly and Jenna's nude bodies, caressing their bare skin
indifferently. It crept up their slender legs, slid across their naked pussies,
and swirled around their exposed stomachs and breasts. It was as if nature was
taunting their predicament, perhaps even utilizing their plight to indulge in
their vulnerability.

	Again, the professional synchronization of the men was evident when
Molly and Jenna were shoved forward at the same time, toward a large sea vessel
docked before them. It was unmarked with the exception of a faded white "HAON"
painted on the bow of the ship, the title of the boat. As they approached, Molly
watched two other girls around her age being escorted on board the HOAN, across
a short wooden catwalk between the dock and the port side of the boat. When
fully across the bridge, they were taken below the deck.

	As Molly and Jenna were led closer to the catwalk, two other girls were
shoved on board, side-by-side, both cuffed and ball gagged. Molly wondered how
many women Vincent had purchased that night. She confirmed six, but there may
have been others.

	Finally, it was her turn to board. Leonard escorted her onto the
catwalk, the feeling of pavement turning to uneven wooden planks, moist with
dampness marked by such a shocking frigidity that it surpassed the temperature
of any surface her bare feet had experienced that night. Jenna was led beside
her, nonchalantly obeying her captor, revealing no noticeable facial expression
conveying her thoughts about the current situation. Leonard and Clark gave the
two girls over to two new men, who pulled them onto the boat. The wooden planks
turned to metal deck, icy against Molly's soft skin, which turned to carpeted
stairwell as the two women descended into the dark depths below deck.

	At the base of the stairs, a narrow hallway performed as the hub for
eight rooms, four metal doors on each side of the hall. "Either of you have to
use the bathroom?" They both shook their heads. The men then proceeded to open
one of the doors and Molly stepped in, followed by Jenna. It was a small, dimly
lit room with a large bed against the wall opposite the door. The space between
the door and the foot of the bed was only about a foot, and the sides of the bed
fit snugly against the walls.

	"Lay down, feet towards the wall." One of the captors growled the order
at them. Molly and Jenna both complied, with unwavering obedience as usual,
laying facedown upon the bed before them. It was a waterbed, the mattress
yielding willingly to the weight lowered upon it. The sheets were white and
silky, and the overall effect gave Molly a sense of being atop a cloud, but that
would imply that she and Jenna were in heaven. And this place was far from
there.

	With the two women laying facedown on the bed, each captor kneeled upon
the mattress beside them and crawled swiftly to their feet. Molly's left ankle
was lifted slightly and a handcuff was locked around it, then her right ankle
was shackled. Her legs were now held tightly close together, and she could
spread her feet only about six inches apart. Not that she particularly wanted
her legs to be able to spread. To make matters worse, the man bent her legs at a
forty-five degree angle and snapped the cuff of a third pair of handcuffs around
the length of chain holding her ankles together, then secured it to the length
of chain holding her wrists behind her back.  In essence, Molly was hogtied with
three pairs of handcuffs. The position was less than comfortable, but not enough
to really harm her. Jenna was secured similarly. Of course.

	Finally, the gags were removed. The sphere popped willingly from Molly's
mouth and her jaw seized the opportunity for a well-deserved rest. With the
women completely restrained, the two men left. And all was silent.

	Molly was first to speak, and reluctantly at that. "Jenna...?"

	"Yeah?"

	"What do you think will happen to us?" At this point, Molly and Jenna
both turned their heads to one another.

	"I...I don't know. I'm really scared."

	Molly thought for a moment, her mind still attempting to wrap itself
around the concept that she had been trying so very hard to ignore. At last, she
finally recognized the most probable outcome of the days ahead. "They're going
to rape us."

	Jenna choked on a sob. She, too, had been grappling with that idea, but
until now hadn't the courage to confront the grim truth. "Oh god...I hope
not...." Jenna broke down, pushing her head into the mattress and crying softly.
It was only moments before Molly, too, succumbed to reality and began crying as
well. In the distance, the ship's bowels growled ominously, and the ship began
to move. Molly estimated that the time was nearing midnight, and the engine's
rhythmic roaring slowly lulled her to sleep.



	When Molly awoke, she was dizzy with confusion. The room was black
except for a bright light. For a single moment, Molly thought that perhaps she
had been killed. The bright light was heaven shining down upon her, and she had
escaped the miserable darkness known as earth. Instead, however, the bright
light turned out being the light flooding in from the adjacent hallway. In the
light stood a broad silhouette-the black outline of a man standing in the
doorway. Molly squinted her eyes, struggling to determine the identity of the
mystery intruder. Before she could call out or anything, the door was closed and
the assailant kneeled in front of her, cupping a strong hand over her mouth.
Thick, firm fingers pressed into her frail cheeks and her lips became tightly
pressed together. She moaned softly into the palm.

	Then, the aggressor flipped on the light switch and Molly could finally
identify the man. It was Greg, his mouth molded into a twisted, lustful smile.
His hand was still clamped over the girl's mouth and now the other hand reached
to her skull and rubbed a thick patch of hair, gently stroking the soft strands
between his fingers. Her eyes grew wide and fearful as she stared into his
hungry gaze, helpless to resist his icy, clawlike hand caressing her fragile
hair. "Hello Molly. I told you those pretty little feet of yours would be
mine...soon..." He pressed his pointer finger against his lips and slowly
removed his hand from her mouth. Fearful for her life, Molly kept quiet, despite
the occasional soft whimper. She lay frozen as Greg crawled quietly onto the
bed, then slowly moving to her shackled ankles. Her soft, pretty soles were held
high in the air by Molly's wrists, so invitingly prone, so temptingly vulnerable
that it seemed as though the girl was encouraging the man to ravish her delicate
bare feet. The hungry fingers of each hand gingerly came in contact with her
slender ankles, itching with anticipation of indulging in the smooth arches and
toes. Painfully gradually, Greg's fingers slid down to her heels. The intrusive
digits gently caressed the tender orbs, laden with an unfamiliar benevolence
that Molly theorized was a result of his fondness for female feet, two of which
were displayed so accessibly before him. Molly clenched her eyes shut and pulled
her feet away from his prying hands, desperate to deny him the satisfaction of
becoming aroused by her involuntary invitation to caress the tender skin. But he
persisted and Molly's resistance to the advancements was in vain. The old
pervert, obsessed with the young girl's body, pressed his face into the
seventeen-year-old's soft feet. He inhaled them, sniffed at every possible
surface and crease, then tasted them. At first, it was a gentle kiss upon her
right heel. He seemed quite content with the flavor and followed up the kiss
with a passionate swirling of his tongue around the voluptuous sphere. His face
was cool against her flesh, his tongue slimy and hot in contrast. Molly,
defeated, lay in helplessness as her bare foot was ravaged. The thoughts that
came to Molly were disgusting. Here was a violent older guy, double her age give
or take a few years, who took pleasure in stealing young women from their homes
just so he could rape them and fulfill fantasies that he couldn't otherwise
fulfill. She wondered if he had ever kidnapped any twelve- or thirteen-year-olds
to use for his perverted lust. A thirty-year-old shouldn't be doing such
activities to a seventeen-year-old without her consent. Come to think of it, he
shouldn't even be doing it to a girl of that age WITH her consent, but that was
irrelevant.



	Greg was finally forced to succumb to the luscious taste of the delicate
morsels gave up on poking between her toes and took them all into his mouth, as
well as the ball of her foot. Molly's feet were precious, her heels and soles a
divine scent and irresistibly tantalizing flavor; each petite toe comparable to
a sweet berry of enchanting beauty and delicious piquancy. He switched between
the two feet, gently running his tongue across the silky soft flesh, savoring
the unmistakable tang of her exceptionally beautiful toes.

	He then proceeded to hold her feet together and took both of her big
toes into his mouth. They were nicely shaped, well rounded, a good size in
comparison to the rest of the toes. Her sexy body was just so irresistible, so
absolutely perfect. Soft, smooth skin. Petite breasts. A tight, virgin cunt.
Adorable feet and legs. Her bare feet and submissive way of just lying there and
being ravaged turned Greg on to an incredible extent-his pants had become a tent
of huge size. He so yearned to yank out her gag and replace it with his hard
cock, just to shove the rod as far as he could, listening to her choke and moan
as the long shaft forced its way deeper down her slender throat. But he couldn't
fuck her mouth quite yet-he wasn't even allowed to be worshipping her feet yet.
But it wasn't too important to him what he was and wasn't allowed to do. She was
his little tart, those pretty little tootsies at the end of her pretty little
legs belonged to him.

	Greg was suddenly struck with an unimaginably good idea. If Molly and
Jenna stayed at Forced To Pleasure, Inc. then Greg's access to the women would
be restricted. He would have to share them with other guys. But if he somehow
kept them for himself...

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