*This is a non-consent story, reader beware. All characters are over 18. Have fun!
Claiming Kenna
Tuesdays were always the laziest day, with everyone too frayed from their Mondays, and too far from Friday to make time for the park. That was why Kenna liked it best. It was days like today, where the sun swallowed up the clouds, that she liked to imagine the sprites of the nearby forest--the mountains and the trees--and lose herself in the pages of a book.
Today, there had only been a few others, only the most dedicated dog owners, and afternoon joggers. But even they were funneling out now. Asking for Tuesday's off had been odd, and her new boss had looked at her sideways when the other workers her age fought for Saturday, but as she took a breathful of sky, she couldn't have been happier.
Kenna was pulled from the pages of her book when a shape moved beside her, and she shifted on the bench as someone sat down. A quick glance, and then she was back to reading. Just a guy and his dog.
"Hardly anyone here today..." The guy looked like he'd rather be on some intense hiking trail than sitting at the park--maybe one of those military guys from the base nearby--but the glossy Rottweiler at his feet disagreed. She couldn't help a genuine smile as she reached to the dog to let him sniff her fingers.
"Hi there," she said more to his dog than to him.
"Beautiful day. Hope you're appreciating it."
This time she could only manage a polite smile as she tried to get back to her reading. He said something else, but she was all but reabsorbed in the story. Then, his hand was between hers, pulling the book from her grasp.
"It's rude not to look at someone when they're talking to you."
For a flash of a moment, Kenna was caught up in rage.
What a chauvinist pig
. But as she turned to him, she had to reevaluate her reaction. Though he seemed perfectly relaxed, his posture wasn't without threat. This wasn't some misguided attempt at getting a girl's attention. She didn't know what this was. He leaned back against the bench, at ease despite the aggression in his shoulders. The definition of muscles was clear in his arms and under his shirt. Even the once sweet dog was now baring his teeth.
Kenna stood up. Deciding her best armor was a smile, she laughed, unable to keep the nervousness from peeking through. "Yeah, sorry. Distracted...Good book."
The leash dangled lazily from his hand, along with her book, and he looked at her with cold eyes. He wasn't the least bit playful. She considered for an instant asking for her book back. But he hadn't shifted. His expression hadn't softened, and she found herself stepping backwards.
"Um, I--"Kenna only thought briefly of her purse tucked underneath the bench, but she was already several steps back, and alarm bells were screaming in her head. She decided she would forego the purse.
Bye, book. Bye, fucking credit card.
"I gotta go."
She had just turned on heel, considering the possibility of out-right running, when she stepped into someone else.
"Oh, sorry." Sweet relief flooded her core. This guy was tall--built, just like the guy on the bench. Now she could go back for her purse. Harder for Bench Guy to be vaguely threatening with a witness. Except, before she could ask him to stick around, the second guy grabbed her by the elbow--hard. He spun her around before she could even think to shout.
Now, bench-guy was standing, and in her panicked confusion she scanned the empty park. Not one person. Kenna caught a glint of a needle in his hand.
"What the Fuck?
" She inhaled to scream, but there was a hand over her mouth. Bench guy grabbed her by the hair, and pulling her neck to the side, he jammed that metal into her neck. Kenna thrashed as she felt cool liquid meeting her bloodstream. "No, No!' Her shout was dampened by clasping fingers, and she tried to bite, but to no avail.
The guy holding her stepped back, and in that second, she felt her legs give. Her vision dulled...The world was muted, and Kenna pleaded with her body not to give in as she watched a red truck pull up directly onto the grass. She tried to scream again, but her cries died in her throat. She could only manage a weird mumbling sound. The man behind her was supporting her under the arms, and bench guy came to take her feet. Already, her vision rimmed with black.
"No..."
she thought--not loudly enough.
"Don't worry, we're going to teach you some manners soon enough." And with that she was pulled onto the floor of the backseat, underneath a set of boots.
Her screams had faded into barely-perceptible grunts, and she couldn't see. She
couldn't fucking see,
but even her panic was dulled by whatever drug was coursing through her system. Kenna felt the rolling of the tires beneath her, and she fell into darkness.
_______________________________
She was lying back against something warm, and a tv was playing in the background.
Hmm, her boyfriend stirred behind her, and he lifted her skirt, pulling aside her panties to press at her entrance.
That's weird.
She didn't appreciate the sudden sensation, and wait... She didn't have a boyfriend.
Fuck.
Her eyes flew open and she tried to stand, only to find herself barred by an arm around her waist. "Woah! We got a live one!"
Her voice had returned, and she was screaming again, thrashing now, and trying to squirm out of the arms behind her.
"You woke her up."
"I barely touched her!"
"My, my...so sensitive".
Men were moving towards her, and she realized they weren't friendly.
"Let me go! Let me go!"
Then, a hand was fisted in her hair, and her neck pulled back. A harsh order was issued in her ear that sent cold shivers up her spine. "Shut. Up."
The man from the park bench was standing above her, harsher for the dank light, and he wore the same grave expression from before. Kenna realized as she blinked that her mouth was closed, and he released her hair. "Good."
He walked around in front of her, and Kenna couldn't help but tug on her arms which were now pulled back behind her. She was planted between two spread legs, and whomever held her rested one muscled arm around her hips. He was strong enough to hold her with one hand, and she twisted her wrists only to have him squeeze tighter.
As much as she wanted to turn and look at the guy behind her, she couldn't take her eyes off the guy from earlier...on the bench. He stepped around, crouching on the balls of his feet.
With her stuck up on the couch, he was exactly at eye-level with her most-feminine parts.
Why, oh why had she worn a skirt today? Damn laundry day.
As she moved to close her legs, however, she was halted by his hands.
Thankfully, somewhere during the struggle, her skirt had fallen back over her thighs, and her panties were in place. Kenna felt woefully exposed nonetheless.
"Now," bench-guy started, resting a hand over her knee. "We're going to ask you some questions, and you'll know exactly how pleased I am with your answer by my response. Do you understand?"
Her eyes flashed to his face, and then around the room. Just how dangerous was he?
As her eyes adjusted to the distance beyond him, she realized that she wasn't in a room at all. True, it was arranged like a living room, with couches planted around a big-screen, but the walls were made of rock. The only light came from the tv--a video game emulating gunfire, and a standing lamp at the edge of the couch.
It vaguely occurred to Kenna that there shouldn't be electricity in a cave, but a buzzing, yellow, generator confirmed that she was, in fact, in very big trouble. How far away were they from civilization? How long had she been unconscious?
"Hey--" the sharpness of his voice was accented by the sharpness of his nails as he dug them into the flesh of her knee. "I told you once that it's rude not to look at someone when they're speaking to you,"
Indeed, she stared at his face again...
better for the details of a future police sketch.
Dark, blonde hair. Blue eyes. Square jaw.
Handsome.
She remembered reading how some of the most notorious criminals were famous not just for their crimes, but for their features...something about how the human brain was wired. People thought they could trust something pretty; pretty couldn't be dangerous; handsome couldn't hurt. She was having trouble putting the rest of her observations into words, when he slid his hand just a little further up her thigh.
"Oh dear, we are slow..." It wasn't until his hands rose further upwards, all the way to his inner thighs, that Kenna gasped, leaning back onto the man behind her. She went a shade brighter as his hands disappeared under her skirt, and the guy behind her chuckled.
"Now, darling, what's your name?"
She could feel his fingers gripping into her thighs, drawing little circles--squeezing.
"Kenna," she breathed, much more quietly than she intended.
"Kenna." He turned from her briefly to one of the men over his shoulder. "That true, Phil?"
Phil.
Goddamnit, they were using names. No masks. No nothing.
That couldn't be a good sign. Phil turned from the screen, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. He leaned down to scoop something off the floor. "Yep. Kenna Thompson. 5'6''. A hundred and fifteen pounds, according to the DMV, and a temporary license. Just turned 21."
Her purse.
"Aww, Kenna," The other man who had grabbed her man spoke up, with darker features than Phil. He had longer, wavy hair, the kind that briefly reminded her of beaches and surfboards. "Have you gone out drinking yet, with your new, temporary license? So much fun."
He seemed way too excited to hear her response, literally on the edge of his seat, and Kenna didn't like it. "No," she said flatly. "Not interested."
"You ever been drunk, Kenna?"
It occurred to her that these weren't just questions, that she shouldn't answer so easily. But with hands spreading her legs, and the threat it implied, she decided to answer that one. "Yeah. I've been drunk." She didn't include that it had only been a few times, in her best friend's basement, drinking something that Amber called 'divorcees', after her mother.
"Drugs?"
"No."
"Sex?"
