Cynthia was miserable. She knew it was her fault but she couldn't help herself. Jeff was a great husband. She couldn't wish for anyone better and she loved him so much but it was just…just the physical side of their relationship she had trouble with.
They had both been brought up as strict Catholics and except for allowing him to touch and stroke her breasts and touch her 'down there' on the outside of her clothes during their engagement they had both refrained from going any further. That wasn't to say they both didn't want to, but their religious upbringing was too strong to overcome.
That's why their wedding night and all the nights since had been a disaster. In the five weeks since the wedding she just hadn't been able to make herself relax enough to allow them to consummate their marriage. At first Jeff had been understanding and had held her in his arms and had told her it didn't matter that in time things would get better. But in time things didn't get better. In fact they had become worse.
Jeff had become withdrawn and had started to treat her casually, as if they were sharing the apartment as friends and not as a married couple. She had tried her best but the discomfort as he had tried to ease his cock into her and the thought of the pain to come was too much for her to take.
In public they were still the same loving couple. Forever touching each other on their arms or hands or faces. But in the privacy of their bedroom they were strangers.
She looked at her watch as the queue shuffled slowly forward towards the counter. An hour to go before her dental appointment. Still plenty of time. An old woman was arguing with the cashier about the amount of money she should have in her account, which wasn't what the bank said she had, and for a moment Sandra smiled as she listened to the conversation. Her own problems momentarily forgotten.
She glanced over to where Jeff usually sat and saw that his desk was vacant. Strange, she thought, I wonder where he could be. When he had been appointed the youngest manager in the banking group and had been given this small branch to run as his first step up the corporate ladder Sandra had been proud. Proud that she had fallen in love with a man who was obviously destined for great things. Even the move out here from the city wasn't too bad if she thought of it as a stepping stone upwards.
"Right ladies and gentlemen. Stay calm and do not make a noise." The voice was almost conversational in tone. Loud enough for everyone to hear but not threatening in any way. More like an announcement being made on a tanoy somewhere. She looked casually around and suddenly her heart leapt in her chest. There were five men standing around the walls of the bank. Three were carrying shotguns. The blinds on the windows and door had been drawn shut and the 'closed' sign turned to face the outside.
"Stay calm if you please," continued the tall man standing by the door, "this is a robbery and the quicker we have your co-operation the quicker we shall finish our business. Now will you all get down on the floor on your stomachs and stay there quietly. Arms and legs outstretched."
The lack of urgency in the man's voice and the soft tone dissipated any feelings of fear the six customers and the two girls behind the counter may have felt. The customers did as they were told with no fuss. Somewhere one of the men was talking softly into a mobile and a minute later the telephone on Jeff's desk rang. She heard Carol, one of the staff, say "Yes sir" and the next second she opened the door to the area behind the counter. The two men standing there immediately entered and began stuffing the bags they were carrying with money from the tills. One of the others, still carrying his shotgun, joined them and went up to the large old fashioned safe that stood like a relic from a bygone age in the corner by Jeff's desk.
After a few minutes Sandra, with her face lying against the cold tiles, heard a dull sound, like a soft impact against a bass drum. Then came the sound of footsteps and she found herself being lifted to her feet.
"Wha…what are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling in shock.
"Be quiet. You're coming with us as a hostage. A soon as we are away from here you'll be released. Do not make any sound or draw attention to yourself in any way."
The calm tone and the firm voice gave her the confidence to believe him and within minutes she was in the back of a pick-up truck being watched by one of the gang as she was carried away from the scene. After an hour she plucked up enough courage to ask, "When are you letting me go? You must be safely away by now."
The man opposite looked at her silently for a moment and then replied, "Soon, soon. We're just not taking any chances." Sandra felt a small tinge of apprehension. The man's voice seemed harsher somehow, more threatening. But she dismissed the feeling knowing that he was not the same person who had spoken in the bank.
Another thirty minutes and the truck drew to a halt. She heard large doors being slid open on runners and felt movement again as they drove forward a few yards and stopped. She heard the doors outside slide shut. The doors of the truck were opened and she was pulled roughly from the interior.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Growing fear made her shout.
"Shut up!"
