Snatched 2

Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers

I'm still scratching my head over the events of February 18-20th, 2020. All I can do is relate them to you, and see what you think:

Marion Fredericks, the busty, attractive thirty-eight year old owner of Manse Antiques, was reviewing her account statement from the local bank, when a young couple entered her store. "I certainly don't get many like these two," she thought to herself. Her usual demographic were middle-aged, well to do types looking for the perfect, distinctive piece to showcase in their McMansions.

The girl was about eighteen, very cute and petite, with long, curly black hair, blue eyes, and a pleasant smile and nice teeth. Her breasts were small, her bottom compact but round, very round. Marion noticed those things about teenaged girls. She also noticed that this one was pregnant, a baby bump just developing on her cute body.

The male was older, and scruffy, affecting a 'Miami Vice' look long after it had gone out of fashion. Marion didn't find him at all attractive, for several reasons I shall not go into here.

"Welcome to Manse Antiques," Marion said to the two. The girl flashed Marion a dazzling smile, the man ignored her. They walked around, looking at this and that for a few minutes, and then left.

It was no more than five minutes later, when two masked figures burst in, pointing guns at her, one of them yelling in a man's voice, "Don't say anything, don't make a fuss, come with us."

Remarkably calm, Ms. Fredericks, said, "Okay, okay, don't get excited, you don't need those, please put them away before someone gets hurt. I'll go with you, without a fight."

The taller of the two assailants said, "Oh. Okay, right." The two proceeded to tie Ms. Fredericks' hands behind her back, and placed a black, cloth bag over her head, then led her out the back to their van parked near the back door.

She was pushed into the back, onto a carpeted floor, and then lay there quietly, thinking through her options. She tried the knot on her wrists, and had no luck. She listened for sounds from the two assailants. They appeared to be young, one male, one female. They also sounded as though they were amateurs, arguing about some romantic issue between them.

"I was not looking at that guy!" one of them, presumably the female member, said.

"Well, he was looking at you!" the other retorted.

"I can't help that!" the female voice replied. Marion couldn't help but think that the female voice was very pleasant.

After a drive of about fifteen minutes, Ms. Fredericks was bustled out of the van into a building. Judging by the springiness of the floor, and the general draftiness, Marion thought it might be a mobile home, a particularly poorly built and maintained one. Marion was plopped down onto a sofa with shot springs, one of them poking her in her shapely butt through her skirt.

The bag was pulled off her head, and Marion was not at all surprised to find herself facing the young couple who had entered her store shortly before her kidnaping.

"Oh, hello," Marion said, her attention directed more to the girl, who was far more pleasant to look at than her companion. She looked around her, and found that her assessment of her surroundings was correct - the single wide trailer was disheveled, though Ms. Fredericks' practiced eye did note several rather nice furnishings, when contrasted to the shabbiness of the structure itself.

"Shut up," barked her male companion. "Where do you keep your money?"

Marion stared at him, saying nothing.

"Where is it, bitch?" he asked again. Still, she said nothing.

"Please, where do you keep your money?" asked the young girl. Marion found her voice very soft and pleasant.

"Your friend - is he your boyfriend, or business partner, or" - she shuddered - "your husband, told me to shut up..." Marion explained. The girl stared hard at the man.

"Yes, Mike likes to try to be rough, but he's really kind of sweet," the girl smiled. "At least when he's sober. Anyway, forget that he told you to shut up, and tell him where you keep your money."

"Well, that's simple enough," Marion replied, smiling back at the girl, pleased to see that the girl had dimples. Marion loved girls with dimples. She looked healthy, too, in spite of her companion. Marion believed that it was important for young girls to watch their diet, particularly if they were pregnant, as she hoped this one was - she'd undoubtedly have a beautiful child.

"I keep my money in the bank," Marion answered. The girl got a blank look on her face, but the male's face reddened.

"Stupid bitch," he snarled. "Rumor has it that you're a fence for local crooks, and you've got a big wad of cash from your 'side' activities. Where is it?"

"A fence?" Marion answered, perplexed. "What on earth is a fence?" She hastened to add, "I mean, I know that a fence is a barrier to exit or entry, and that it is also an Olympic sport, but I don't see where either of those apply..."

"JESUS CHRIST!" thundered 'Mike'.

"And what is your name, dear?" asked Marion. "I'd hug you, but..." she shrugged her shoulders fetchingly.

"Oh...Sarah, ma'am," the girl replied. She winced, and tried to reach back to rub her lower back.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," Marion replied. "I could help you with that, by the way." Marion looked pointedly at Sarah's back.

"My back?" Sarah said, looking at the woman hopefully. "That would sure be nice. Mike, can I untie her?"

"What, and have her run out of here? Don't be stupid," he said, frowning at Sarah.

"You could tie my leg to this coffee table," Marion suggested. "And use a complicated knot so that I couldn't untie it."

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea," Sarah said. "I want to see what she can do for my back. It's your fault that it hurts, anyway," she said.

Mike looked a little repentant, Marion thought. Apparently he'd done some dumb man thing that resulted in injury to his pretty little girlfriend, and she wasn't going to let it go.

"Look, goddamnit, I'm not running a fucking health spa here. Look lady, I want to know where your money stash is! If you don't tell me, I'm going to break something - on you!"

Marion broke out in tears. "I can't possibly remember if you're going to threaten me!" she said, her voice wavering. "I want to cooperate, but I'm so frightened!"

"Mike! See what you're doing...it's what you always do, you scare people. The lady's going to help us, we just need to make her feel more at ease."

"That's right dear," Marion added, her voice steady now. "Untie my arms, I'll rub your poor back, and then we can discuss how I can give you my money." They both looked at Mike.

"Fuck...fine, go ahead. But if you try to run for it, I'll kill you."

"Young man, never threaten someone," Marion said. "Threats are hollow, useless things. You can catch more flies with honey..."

"Yeah, whatever," he said.

"That feels much better,: Marion said, rubbing and flexing her wrists. "Now let me take care of you, dear." She had Sarah sit in front of her, with her back to Marion. Marion put her hands on Sarah's temples, from behind, and began gently rubbing.

"Hey, it's her back that hurts," Mike said.

"I don't mind," Sarah said. "It feels good." She turned slightly to try to look at Marion. "But you will get to my back, won't you?"

"Oh yes, dear, absolutely," Marion replied, smiling. Addressing both her captors, she said, "This is a holistic treatment. I must attend to the whole body, in order to direct healing to the affected part."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Just don't do anything stupid."

Sarah said, "It sounds really nice."

Marion continued her soft caresses of Sarah's scalp, working her way down to Sarah's key muscles at the back of her neck, and leading down to her shoulders.

"Oh god," Sarah groaned. "That really feels good."

"A lot of back pain can be attributed to tension, particularly in one so young. I'd say that you're eighteen...am I close?" Her fingers returned to stroke through Sarah's glossy black curls, while massaging her neck.

"Can you think of anything that might be making you tense?" Marion asked, then giggled. "Oh, silly me, you have a kidnaping to worry about, don't you?" as Mike glowered behind them, turning on the 65" plasma TV.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said.

"Never apologize, dear. It will be taken as weakness," Marion advised her. She continued massaging Sarah's slim back. "This would go better if you take your top off, dear."

Sarah turned around, her range of motion much wider already.

"I couldn't," she said, hesitantly.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, dear. I'm a woman, after all, I'm quite clear on what you look like under it. And your friend, well, is it possible that he's seen you with your top off?"

"Mike...would it be okay?" Sarah asked. She could usually predict him pretty well - there wasn't much subterfuge to Mike McCleary, petty crook extraordinaire.

Finally, Mike was hearing something that interested him, since he hadn't yet gotten anywhere with where the old biddy had put her money.

"Yeah, that would be okay," he said, a clear note of interest in his voice.

"Okay," Sarah said, shrugging. In a flash, she had the lavender-colored tube top over her head and sitting on the coffee table. Her breasts were small, but extremely lovely. Marion thought that they were the perfectly depiction of an inverted classic champagne glass (known as a champagne coupe when first created in the 1600s).

With Sarah's clear, milky-white smooth complexion, and tipped with two strawberry-colored nipples and areolae, Marion's mind was running away with mental descriptions of how superbly magnificent young Sarah's breasts actually were, and how very much she would love to have her lips on those nipples, and her fingers gently squeezing her breasts.

"Did you know that the champagne glass was supposedly designed to emulate the breasts of Marie Antoinette, to celebrate her beauty and perfection?" Marion said.

The idle piece of trivia might have passed unnoticed, if Marion hadn't taken the opportunity to slip her arms under Sarah, her hands and fingers lightly cupping Sarah's warm, soft breasts.

"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed. "Oh, my." Mike brightened up. There was the slimmest chance there might be some sex happening here, and with Sarah getting sick in the mornings the last few days, and not being in the mood, his morning wood was getting overworked more on the crapper than in the pooper. Sarah's pooper, that is.

Marion's fingers were far more experienced with bringing out pleasurable sensations in the female breast than with any part of the male body, and it didn't take her long to have Sarah moaning with pleasure - at this point, more from the tension relieving aspects of being touched than the sexual aspects, but Marion's touch was gradually steering Sarah toward an interest in sexual touching, too.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Mike said. Marion was experienced enough to detect the prurient interest in Mike's voice overriding any sense of protectiveness he might have had for Sarah.

"Young man, I'll be able to, ah, release your tension, just as soon as I've taken care of Sarah, alright?" That placated him, and truth to tell, he thought that, though this woman liked to act like an old bitch, she was not at all hard on the eyes. With big tits, nice blonde hair, a body that wasn't too bad, though a little bit plump, and a nice enough face, even if she did wear those old lady glasses with the chain, like the old biddy who had kicked him out of the school library in seventh grade, just before he dropped out of school, she could probably be kind of hot.

Especially naked. Especially on her knees in front of him. Especially with his hard cock jammed down her throat.

He decided that he was going to sample the cream filling inside that cupcake before he killed her.

Yes, Mike was making his move up the criminal ladder, from petty thief to kidnaper to potential murderer.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "You take care of Sarah," he said loudly. "And later I'll take care of you," he added, under his breath.

Both Sarah and Marion took his admonition to 'take care of Sarah', to mean that he need not be consulted further, which suited Marion just fine, while Sarah was learning just how nice a massage could really be. Marion continued stroking Sarah's sweet, soft and warm breasts, taking her nipples between her index and middle fingers and squeezing them, with Sarah moaning softly as she felt such sweet, welcome pain there, releasing and dissolving the pain in her back, and sending warm ribbons` of pleasure to her wetting pussy.

Sarah leaned back deeper into Marion's arms, feeling the woman's own soft and warm, plump breasts against her back, thinking subconsciously of how safe those sweet pillows made her feel. She had never felt secure with Mike - he was liable to explode at any time without warning and do damage, though to his credit he had not hurt Sarah. Still, she was afraid it might just be a matter of time.

But what choice did she have? She was pregnant, not even really certain who the father of her unborn child might be - there had been one evening right around the time she reckoned, when she had passed out after a drink that Mike prepared for her, and his explanation for the state of the trailer the next day left out any mention of other guys, though there were far too many beer bottles for even him to account for.

He had denied having his friends over, but she didn't believe him, and she could picture him finding it funny to have his friends 'run a train' on an unconscious girl, even his girlfriend.

But in any case, this woman was relieving all kinds of tension in Sarah, and she was grateful. She hoped that nothing bad would happen to her, but she suspected Mike wasn't thinking of the antique store owner's good health.

"If only I had stayed with my parents, instead of running away to the next town with Mike," Sarah thought. Her father's funeral home kept his family very comfortable, even if her friends from school did make fun of her father's occupation.

She felt a warm breath on her neck, and realized that she had let her head fall back on Marion's shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," Sarah mumbled, lifting her head.

"That's quite alright, dear," Marion said in a kindly voice. "I don't mind having a pretty girl rest her head on my shoulder."

"Really?" Sarah asked, though it wasn't clear if she was questioning the rightness of using Marion as a pillow, or whether Marion really thought that Sarah was actually attractive.

Marion answered both. "Yes, you're quite attractive, and I love having you in my arms, with your head on my shoulder. I suppose it brings out the mother in me."

Well, 'mother' if you're referring to a randy lesbian dying to have sex with her daughter, that is.

Marion was indeed, one of those women who have discovered that the love and physical attractions of another female are far more rewarding than anything a man could ever offer, and so had, from an early age, concentrated her sexual interest in females, leaving men and boys to other, less enlightened women.

"Let me tell you about my youth," Marion said to Sarah, as Mike dozed in a corner of the room. "And sit here with me while I tell it." She smiled at the young girl, who smiled back.

****

Twenty years before, her first paramour had been her gym teacher in high school. Though a staple of cheap erotic stories, in her case it was real, true love on the parts of the experienced teacher, a 'lipstick lesbian' in spite of her role as a gym teacher, and the sweet, inexperienced eighteen year old high school student.

Marion had gotten into a loud argument with another student during gym class, and as punishment, had been tasked by Miss Walker, the teacher, with staying after school and helping her straighten up the gym and locker room, entirely innocently on both their parts - at the start.

The two talked about this and that as they put away equipment, and did a quick pickup of the gym floor, leaving heavier cleaning to the late night custodian.

Apparently, the work day of a teacher is less glamorous than we have been led to believe. Finally, they concentrated their efforts on the girls' locker room, again picking up stray clothes and such, and placing them in a 'lost and found' basket.

"Ooh, Miss Walker, what do I do with these panties?" Marion asked.

"Those shouldn't go with the other things," the teacher replied. "Let me see them." Marion handed them over, then turned away to look for more articles of stray clothing. She turned back to ask Miss Walker why panties were different, when her question was answered.

She saw Miss Walker with the dirty pair of girl's panties up to her nose, smelling, quite obviously, the seat and crotch. "Oh...my," Marion said, her heart suddenly racing and her virginal pussy moistening, and not quite sure why.

Miss Walker looked at Marion. "Honey, I could lie to you about what I was doing, but fuck it, I'm not going to. I was smelling this girl's hot little pussy and ass on her panties, because I like them. You can go tell somebody, but I'm just going to deny it."

Marion was at a loss for words, but then speech came. "Well, yes ma'am, I never heard of such a thing, but it looks kind of interesting." Marion didn't mind lying, and it wouldn't be the last time, either.

"Do you think you might like to try?" Miss Walker asked, a glint in her eye.

"If it doesn't smell too bad, I guess," Marion said, her voice almost a whisper.

"It's like a piece of heaven," Miss Walker said. "Let's go in my office first, though."

The two, adult teacher and teenaged student walked the short way to Miss Walker's office. Marion was acutely aware that Miss Walker's firm hand had descended to her skirt-covered ass to guide her along the way. The thing was, Marion didn't mind that at all.

Miss Walker closed and locked the door behind them, then closed the blinds.

"Marion, you can call me 'Corinne," Miss Walker - I mean Corinne - said, smiling warmly at the attractive teenager.

"Thank you, ma'am - I mean, Corinne," Marion answered demurely. The teacher handed Marion the panties. They were rather discolored in the high traffic areas, a mixed white and yellow, crusty something where a girl's pussy would rest, and familiar looking brown streaks where her butt would go.

"Just put them up to your nose, and inhale," Corinne said. "See if you can smell the different, um, fragrances."

Marion hesitantly brought the wrinkled pink panties to her nose. She sniffed delicately, and finding the aroma not at all unpleasant, as she suspected, inhaled more freely. This wasn't the first time that Marion had smelled dirty panties, though. She had sometimes smelled her own, and had at times taken to wearing them for more than just one day to deepen the scent of her own body on her frilly underpants. She couldn't do that too much, though, or her mother would question why she wasn't changing her panties.

Marion had also taken to fetching her sisters' and mother's underwear from the dirty laundry hamper, and playing with herself while smelling them on the toilet, her own panties bunched at her ankles, her sweet, young pussy wet and itchy.

Marion took to the soiled panties like a paint huffer takes to Krylon and a paper bag. Corinne giggled.

"You're not new to this rodeo, are you, Marion? I kind of thought so, I've seen you looking at some of the other girls..."

"Oh, Miss Walker, I didn't-" Marion began.

"It's okay, Marion," Corinne said. "I like other girls, and everything about them...including what their panties - and other things about them - smell like." She smiled warmly, and sat next to Marion.

"I hope that you and I - we - can discover things that we like together." Her blue eyes were intense on Marion's green eyes, and Marion felt as though she was slipping under water, like the time she nearly drowned at Watkin's Pond. But this was far more pleasant, and the sweet electrical tingles that were buzzing her clit were hard to ignore.