I feel that have the perfect life. I am educated, employed, financially secure - and best of all - married to a beautiful, wonderful woman. We have a nice little house in the country, and we both teach at a very prestigious private high school. Macy teaches College Prep School Biology, and I teach College Prep Chemistry at the same school.
Macy and I met in college and married soon after we graduated and we were both virgins on our wedding night. She is smart and pretty and demurely affectionate. If there was anything less than perfect about her, it was the fact that she kept a very tight rein on her emotions. Serious, insecure, and uptight, Macy even dresses very conservatively, and it was only for those too-brief moments when her hair was out of the bun and she was naked, that I could appreciate the true beauty that she was. Her insecurities even affect her professional life because other teachers have been promoted around her as she remained docile and submissive to the administration.
One weekend, I found out that Macy's bottled-up emotions took a toll on her, and when the dam finally broke, it had shocking results.
Teaching high school, I am familiar with teens going through their rebellious stage. It's a fact of life for me, and I do everything I can to make the teenager's angst as painless as possible, while still teaching my subject. Also, teaching at a good, and very expensive, private school, meant cooperating with the parents as much as possible. One troubled teen was a beautiful girl named Cassandra. She has, as her name suggests, beauty like the sun, with a body that wouldn't quit and beautiful, soft, long flowing blond hair.
Cassandra was 18 and in the midst of a powerful revolt against her very wealthy parents. Big contributors to the school, her parents asked for and received cooperation from everyone on the staff. Looking back on that spring, I realized that I made a mistake by getting too involved with Cassandra and her family.
Part of the phase Cassandra was going through was in selecting "wild" boyfriends. Her latest was a biker, years older than her, and someone we all assumed (correctly) was heavily into drugs and a lot of other wicked things.
Just before final exams in the spring, Cassandra ran away from home. For whatever reason, she showed up at our door several days later, hungry and broke, and spening several nights with Macy and me. We helped her get through exams and finally talked her into returning home.
About a week after Cassandra left, I got a call from her boyfriend. He made it clear that if he ever heard of me touching her again that he would kill me. He further threatened to get even somehow for what I had done with his "old lady". In a near panic, I tried to assure him that nothing had happened between Cassandra and me and that my wife had been with us the entire time. I don't think he listened to me at all.
Several weeks passed. School let out for the summer and Macy and I prepared for our vacation. We planned a long weekend away over the Fourth of July and couldn't wait to leave as soon as Macy's summer school class was being dismissed at noon on Friday. I had the car packed and ready to go when she pulled into the driveway. We had a light lunch and piled into the car to hit the road.
I had driven perhaps a mile when I suddenly felt the cold steel of a gun barrel being pressed against my neck. A guy who looked very much like a large, nasty biker was in the back seat of the car and was very serious about what he would do to us if I didn't do exactly as he ordered.
He told me to drive and, following his instructions, we drove for almost an hour, far out into the country. We turned off the road and into a rutted trail and our kidnapper told us to stop next to a van parked there and to get out. Another, even larger biker climbed out of the van, pointing a sawed-off shotgun at us. The first guy put our hands behind our backs and handcuffed us. Then he put silver duct tape on our mouths and he blindfolded us. They pushed us into the back seat of our car and tied our feet to the sides and then drove, for what seemed like hours, before stopping the car and pulling us out.
When we stopped and were pushed out, all I could tell was that we were in a huge garage of some kind. It was obviously used to repair automobiles and motorcycles, as there were several of each sitting around in the process of being worked on. The first biker shoved us down on an old school-bus bench in the corner, leaving us handcuffed. He further secured us by running a long chain through our arms and padlocking it to the heavy workbench behind the bus seat.
Macy and I were both terrified, neither of us knowing exactly what to expect. I assumed that the bikers were friends of Cassandra's boyfriend and I was very sorry I didn't call the police after his threatening phone call. For all I knew, the idiot would kill us both. When the two bikers returned, they were accompanied by what appeared to be the members of some kind of motorcycle gang.
There were about a dozen people. All dressed in typical biker gear, the men's ages ran from the mid-20's, up into the late 40's or even late 50's. Two of the girls looked young, maybe 18 to 20, and the other two were into their 40's.
The first biker walked over to us and introduced himself as "Dirtbeard". My worst fear came true as he told us he was, indeed, Cassandra's "old man". He was quite proud of his kidnapping and explained to the others that he was going to make me wish I had never fucked his "Casey".
"What's the slut's name?" Dirtbeard asked another biker, rifling Macy's purse.
"Her name is Macy." It was Cassandra - Casey. She was walking into the garage, dressed like the rest of the group in dirty jeans and a denim sleeveless jacket.
Dirtbeard put his arm around Casey's waist and glared down at me, "Hell man, I told you, you would be hearing from me. I wasn't about to forget that you fucked my old lady." (He ignored me as I was frantically shaking my head!) "I'm not sure yet what I'll do with you, yet, but one thing's for sure - I'm going to have a crack or two at your little slut, here, before I turn her loose." With a smile, he raised his heavy boot and kicked me in the shoulder. I saw stars.
He unlocked the chain and grabbed Macy. His friend wrapped the chain around my chest and the workbench leg a few times and re-locked the padlock. Dirtbeard pulled Macy to the center of the garage's open floor, holding her in front of his friends. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he slapped her across the face and she stood still.
"This is a slut cunt, and what do we do with a slut cunt?" he asked, loudly.
"Fuck it!" shouted one of the men.
"Any damn thing we want," said one particularly large, bearded man who looked strong enough to live up to his words. He was older than the rest of the other men and had "OTTO" tattooed on his bare arm.
Dirtbeard began to strip Macy of her clothes, but stopped when given a better idea by one of the women.
