The Unliely Savior

Introduction

This is an adult story about two 18-year-old graduating seniors. One, the girl, is rich, beautiful, tall, intelligent, athletic, and successful at everything she does. The other, a boy, not so much. It is not that he isn't clever. But he is caught up in family loops of poverty and failure.

This story features kidnapping, adventure, and a lot of bondage. It is entirely a work of fiction. I hope anyone who might read this story will enjoy it. Comments, positive or negative, are welcomed. Happy reading.

Chapter 1 -- I Can Dream

Adam:

My name is Adam Gentry, and I am a senior this year in high school. I will be nineteen years old in another month. I can't say I am thrilled with my life, but I have to admit that I am not totally unhappy with it either. I live in Waltham, MA, on the western edge of Boston. Let me tell you a little about myself. My folks are hard-working people, but success has eluded them in life. I've had everything I need, but that is far from having everything I want.

Let me start by telling you what I want most. I have always had at least one class in high school with Marjory Nakamura. She is also 18 and is my number one dream. But, as I sometimes see watching a television movie, she is out of my league. Marjory's dad is the owner of an electronics manufacturing and design company. He is Japanese and is as rich as Midas. Working for her dad could be another dream for me. Marjory has never been mean or ugly to me. She is a beauty beyond my ability to describe. She must inherit much from her mother, who I understand is from Norway. Marjory is tall, especially for someone who is part oriental. I would guess she is about 5' 10" with long black hair falling below her hips. Naturally, it is always immaculate. She has big brown almond eyes and a smile that displays her perfect teeth. Her complexion has never been anything but perfection. She is an athlete, the Captain of the school's women's swim team, and a great basketball player. Marjory is in all the most popular clubs and cliques at the school. Did I mention that she has D-cup breasts that are amazingly firm? More often than not, Marjory dresses to show generous cleavage. As if looks were insufficient, she will be the valedictorian at graduation. She is as good as I am in math and science, so I didn't even have a chance to be helpful to her in the areas in which I am good. She could have her pick of schools. I hear she is going to Harvard. That is just down the road from where I want to go but can't.

I am just not attractive enough for her. My family's lack of wealth is a problem, too. I am short, only 5' 8". My hair is unruly and red; I can't afford the haircuts to make it look good. I wish I had paid better attention in all of my classes in high school. There aren't any of them that I couldn't have made an A. But I was always more interested in learning about my passion, electronic circuits. Unfortunately, my family can't afford most of the tools and components I would need to try things at home. I scored high in science and math and screwed up in history, language, and other things that bored me. Now, that is hurting me because there is no way that I can get a scholarship to a first-rate school. Goodbye, dream of MIT.

It was lucky that I learned early that the public library would get books by interlibrary loan for me that they didn't have themselves. I could also go to the library at the local technical school and read books in the library. That still left me with some time on my hands. I used that time to dream about Marjory. I have tried a couple of times to ask her out. She rejected me very gently and skillfully. Still, it was a rejection. Don't think that I am obsessed. My interest in electronics keeps many things in my mind that are of a technical nature. But in unguarded moments, thoughts of Marjory pop into my mind uninvited.

More often than not, those thoughts will be kinky in nature. In those dreams, I will have Marjory in a private place with her hands tied behind her back. My hands will be exploring the cleavage that she is showing. Since it is my dream, she is showing a lot. She tells me what I am doing feels very good and that I should open her shirt more and free her tits from her bra. She is wearing low riders and...

No need to get into the details of what is just a dream. The senior class meets at the park for a picnic in a few hours. It is well into May and warm enough to swim. I am sure most of the girls, including Marjory, will be in bikinis. Next weekend, they will have the prom. I won't go. Then there is graduation.

At the picnic, I ate a few hot dogs and talked to some people in the chess club. I didn't bring a bathing suit. No need to point out to everybody just how skinny I am. Marjory was in and out of the water. As usual, her bikini was tiny, and she looked fantastic. I was wearing sunglasses so I could look her way occasionally without it being obvious.

Later in the afternoon, Marjory left the water and dressed in one of her very hot outfits. Her hair was hung in a long ponytail. She wore a narrow tank top without a bra that displayed more cleavage than usual. And her skirt, if you could call it that, was a tartan that started closer to her cunt than her navel and hung only scant inches below it. On her feet, she had strappy sandals. Did I say she looked hot? I should repeat it anyway.

The sun was getting low, and the class was dispersing. I saw Marjory's ride driving up. His dad generally drove a Corvette but sometimes used a big van, which I supposed he used at work. I managed to walk by the vehicle just before her and said, "Good party, Marjory. I hope you had a good time today."

She answered, "I did, and I hope you did too."

I was behind the van, walking away, when the van's sliding door opened, and I heard a gasp from Marjory. Turning to look, I saw two men had jumped out of the van and grabbed Marjory before she could flee. They were wearing tracksuits and were masked. I started toward them, yelling. But had only taken a step before they threw Marjory in the van and leaped in behind her. I was at the back of the van. It was a massive monstrosity with a ladder on the back to help load things on top. I was next to it and, without thinking, stepped up on the ladder. I couldn't see the people in the van, and they couldn't see me. They would not know I was there unless they saw me climb on. I guess they did not. The driver and the thugs that grabbed Marjory were looking at her as they hustled her inside. I did not know it then, but as the driver sped away, the thugs in the back were busy tying Marjory up in a strict hogtie and gagging her with a large black ball gag.

For me, now I was holding on for dear life. The van was speeding through the streets, and I would be hurt badly if I lost my grip while the vehicle was flying along. Still, while holding on, I attempted to think about what I might do when the van stopped. I had no cell phone, so I couldn't call for help. One of those thugs could hold me off of the ground by my neck with one hand. Physically, there was nothing that I could do.

Marjory:

I have never felt true terror. I thought I had been scared before. Now I know what real fear is. I have never been tied up. I try to ask a question. The only sound I can make is, "Hmmmph, hmmmph?" Once, I saw a movie with a woman tied up like I am. They called this a hogtie.

The thug, who seemed to be the boss, said, "She wants to ask us a question. Maybe we will let her speak when we get back to base. In the meantime, let's get a better look at the goods."

They turned me on my side and lifted my tank top over my breasts. I have never been exposed in this way. Showing my cleavage and stirring the boys' reactions has always been fun. They can't ever stop staring. But this is not fun. These guys can do anything to me, and there is no way that I can prevent it.

The definition in her abdominals was spectacular, with the muscle definition she had developed from years of swim team practice. The strain of her stressful hogtie added to her beauty in the eyes of the thugs. Seeing her ribs straining against her taunt skin with her magnificent breasts above them was irresistible. The thugs made free use of their hands over her body.

Marjory was thinking, I hate this, but I cannot move in any way to stop them. There have been times when I thought I was helpless. I was wrong. This is being helpless. At least they are not hurting me. I will endure. I will be strong. What does not kill me makes me stronger. Daddy will give them what they want to free me. I know they are kidnapping me to get something from him. This is horrible, and I hate it. And why is my core responding to their hateful touch? My own body is betraying me. Well, they can't take my virginity. That train left the station. But I really don't want to be raped. I have to accept what happens. I am helpless. I can't stop them from doing anything they want. Oh God, there is no help for me! I remember one thing that gives me a little hope. That boy, Adam Gentry, saw what happened. Surely, he will call the police. I know he is infatuated with me. He thinks he is cool and not staring, but he does. But he has always been pleasant and proper. Unfortunately, he is such a skinny little runt. His eyes look intelligent even if he never stands out in class. Come on, Adam, get help for me. I need you to be there for me now!

The van slowed and turned onto a road with warehouses. It turned toward a building with an open cargo door at one warehouse. The van slowly drove into the warehouse. A man in a suit was waiting. The van stopped, and the driver's and sliding doors opened. The two thugs and the driver got out and stood respectfully before their boss, the man in the suit. The lead thug said, "It worked exactly as you planned. There were no problems, and we have the package."

The boss, Mr. Ray, said, "Bring her out. I want to take a look."

The two thugs pulled Marjory from the van and deposited her at Mr. Ray's feet. Mr. Ray ordered, "Release her hogtie and stand her on her feet."

When they did, he carefully looked her up and down. "I see that you did not damage the goods in any way. Very good. Now, to secure her here, this post will do nicely. Untie her and back her against the post. Lash her thoroughly to it. Then, tie her hands and elbows behind her back and the post. Tie her tight. Her level of comfort is not an issue. And leave the disarray of her clothing as you have it. No, pull the top of her tank top over her head and behind her neck. She will be completely topless. She is nice to look at this way, and a few pictures of her like this will motivate Dad, don't you think, Miss Marjory?"

Marjory screamed. It came out in a low mumble, "Hmmmph, hmmmph, hmmmph!"

Marjory's breasts were above average in size, especially for someone with an oriental heritage. Her chest size was 37 inches. Years of swimming practice had increased the size of her latismus muscles. That added some to her chest measurements. Her cup size was D. Her swimming and other athletic activities stripped any fat from her body, and she was lean and had excellent muscle definition. Her breasts were high and firm. When she showed cleavage, as she often did, the valley between her tits fell between two close mountains of flesh. Her nipples were rosy peaks begging a man to twist or suck on them. But only two young men had ever seen or touched them, and in both cases, it was an activity that was not repeated.

The thugs tied her as their boss directed. There were loops of rope around her hips, waist, ribs below her breasts, and above her breasts. They bound her firmly to the post and were tight enough that she had to concentrate on breathing. Her elbows were pulled cruelly close together, and her wrists were crossed and tightly bound. She worried about her circulation. Marjory wanted to cry and was on the verge of doing so. But she was determined not to show any weakness.

"One more thing," ordered Mr. Ray. Tie her ankles together behind the post and lash her legs to the pole while you are at it. That will put a lot of stress on her legs and make the ropes support some of her weight. Then, I will take some pictures to send to Mr. Nakamura. Those are almost unbelievable tits, Miss Marjory. They beg for a man's hand. Perhaps later, I can attend to that."

Adam:

Earlier, I didn't know what was happening to Marjory. I couldn't see inside the way I was holding onto the van. They must be kidnapping her to extort money from her dad. Hopefully, they would think caring for her would put them in a better bargaining position. The van was slowing down and approaching a big building, a warehouse.

I saw that this was my chance to get off the ladder. My arms were cramping. I don't know what kept me holding on. Fear of falling from the speeding van was undoubtedly an issue. But fear for Marjory was my big motivation. My only plan was to avoid being seen, keep alert, and wait for an opportunity to help Marjory. It wasn't much of a plan.