He parked his car in front of the abandoned penitentary and killed the engine. Usually there was no one around at this time but the homeless and the drunks, and at this late hour, they were usually asleep. He looked in the rear-mirror to check on his star reporter. Blindfolded, gagged, collared, dressed in her tightest black blouse and her shortest gray business skirt, struggling in her ankle and wrist cuffs like a caged animal. There was a faint buzzing coming from her and it seemed to make her go crazy – she kept making slow moaning sounds as they drove away from her apartment and out of the city.
Jeric got out of the car and looked around to see if there was anyone there. He brought the gun with him just in case there was anyone else crazy enough to visit here at this time of night, stuffing it in his coat pocket. He slammed the door and went over to the doors of the backseat, throwing the door open and letting the cold air hit her before he started talking.
"Melanie Rivera, WCTT News," he said to her. "How does it feel to be helpless and extremely distracted with your fate in the hands of the biggest pervert this side of the Southwestern United States?"
She lets out several more squeaks and moans. He watches her hips wriggle in the seat, trying to grind against something, her breasts heaving and jiggling slightly, medium-sized ones that pressed against her blouse. He saw her nipples poking out of it, wondering if the cold was doing that.
"Melanie," Jeric repeated.
"Fkkk uuuu" is all Melanie said.
"I'd like to," he said to her. "In fact, if I saw you in a bar, I'd buy you quite a number of drinks and try to get in the sack with you. Heck, depending on how that theoretical night would go, I would even try to start something resembling an actual relationship with you." He sighs. "I really would have. You sound like a nice girl. Well, when you're not at work."
"Lhh mmm grrr uuu fuuurrrr," she yells at him through her gag. She fought against the seatbelt restraining her waist, the handcuffs clinking against her wrists.
"I am a fucker," Jeric said. "That's why I love my job."
She screamed at him through her gag, starting a tirade that he couldn't make out at all except for the last one: "Prrvvrrt!"
"Now, now," Jeric said, undoing the seatbelt. "I know I likely have riled you up with this elaborate method upon method I have done in capturing you from your well-furnished apartment. I know I've collared you and trussed you up and even slid a vibrator inside of you to enjoy on this long drive. I know I've waxed poetic about how your shoulders arched back makes you look even more helpless, and by association, sexy." He smiles at her. "But the fact still remains that the word 'pervert' is not an insult, because I've simply embraced it. Now stop it, will you? It's chilly out here and I have to get you inside."
Melanie thrashed in her seat. Jeric sighed and leaned against the car.
"You know," he says, moving very close to her, "I've always wondered what it would be like to have sex in the back of a car."
Melanie screamed even louder while Jeric smiled, watching her get riled up. He noticed her breathing became labored and that her moans mixed in with her squealing.
"How's that vibrator?" he says to her. "I don't want you to get off right before I put you on camera."
She squealed some more, beginning to rock the car with her thrashes. Jeric sat back and watched her thighs rub against the vibrator he slid in her, driving her even closer to orgasm. He had bought the forked vibrator dildo, which tickled her clit as it vibrated. Her thrashing, Jeric figured, pressed the vibrator deeper and into new angles inside and outside of her. She seemed to notice this too, suddenly seizing up and stopping her struggles. "Fkkk yuuuu!" she screamed at him again through her gag.
"Once again, I'd like to," Jeric said as he grabbed her by the leash attached to her collar and out of the car. "But this is a job, you know?"
He had led her through the old penitentary through her collar, slowly moving in her high heels. Jeric stared back at her, his eyes usually drifting towards the stockings she wore, back to her officewear he had made her put on before he had chloroformed her.
"Do you wonder why I picked you, out of all people, to do this to?" Jeric had asked her. He looked back at Melanie, who was standing upright, only following him and not answering his question, only making soft little moans from the vibrator inside of her. He stopped.
"Melanie," he says to her. "The silent treatment doesn't work with me. Please – I could just tie you to a jail cell and leave you out here with all the bums and the drunks – "
Melanie suddenly shook her head, making little 'no' noises.
"Oh? Do you want to know why I'm doing this to you, then?"
Melanie nodded.
"Okay," he says, taking her along the trail again. "Well, do you remember the news report you made yesterday about Izumi Corporation?"
She makes a little noise. He continues.
"My current sweetheart works there," he says to Melanie. "And the guy you lambasted on your morning show is her boss."
They walked through a dark hallway, moonlight shining in through rusting reinforced steel bars and dirty windows. Jeric turned on his flashlight, going through the darkened hallways.
"It was a pretty despicable thing to do, photoshopping a guy's face to make him look ugly and putting it on the screen as part of a fifteen minute hit piece about what a 'despicable' man he is for donating money to a politician you don't like is pretty low. Extremely low," he says to her.
Melanie began to stumble in her walk, screaming as she felt herself lose balance and fall. He quickly reached out and grabbed her by the waist before she hit the ground. He pulled her up and pressed her against his chest. "Are you all right?" he says to her. She doesn't respond to him. The buzzing of the vibrator is all he hears in the hall. "Well," he says, "be careful. Anyway."
He led her through more of the darkened maze of the penitentary. Some doors were kicked in. Others had had their doorknobs ripped off. One particular office Jeric shone his light into was completely trashed, papers and books scattered all over the floor, the desk overturned and the chair embedded in the shatterproof window very forcefully. Behind him, Melanie moaned in fear and pleasure.
"What forced me to kidnap you," he says as he pulls her through the hallways, "is the section of your hit piece about the secretary," he says to her. "You described her as 'that tart'. You made a reference to the movie 'Secretary' in your description of her, describing her... well, to paraphrase it, you called her a harlot who sleeps with him when no one's around. And that expose about how her practice and her private details, including a rundown of what she did in her small career. You wailed into her like no tomorrow and she had nothing to do with the boss's decision to donate money. That's what really pissed me off," he said. "The morning that aired I got a voicemail message from that same secretary. She was crying. She couldn't to go to work because there were some fanatics of your news channel making a small picket line in front of the building. I had to come over and comfort her because she felt terrible about the way you made her feel." He sighs. "I know there's some developing scandal between you and your unprofessionalism that will be occuring in the near future, but you know what? You made her cry. And not in a romantic 'this is beautiful' way. You destroyed her and I just can't have that."
Melanie didn't answer him. He took the path labeled 'Death Row', pulling her down the path. She wasn't aware of where she was going, just mindlessly walking with him and responding to his tugs on her collar to indicate with direction he wanted her to go in. The vibrator continued to buzz away in her panties.
