Chapter 4: Lessons Learnt
Still tape tied, thong-gagged and bra-blindfolded, I lay in the golf bag, while he dragged me out of the dimly lit room. Unable to move, aching with pain and thirsty as hell, I could feel the frictional heat on my skin because of being dragged. What he and his whore had done to me, was unforgivable in so many ways, I could not imagine. On the road trip to this place, while being trussed up in the trunk I had a chance to yell, scream and attract attention. I should have done that. Instead I stayed stuck to maintaining an uneventful journey, so that he would not undergo any troubles with the police or the passersby.
But not this time. The journey back home was going to teach him a lesson he would never forget. I convinced myself that this wasn't my boyfriend, or someone I knew or cared about. He was random stranger. Probably, a burglar who had kidnapped me from my boyfriend's house. His intentions? I didn't know. Rape or ransom or probably to sell me off, each equally worse than the other. That's it. That's all he was now. And how should a girl react when she has been kidnapped by a stranger for any of the above purposes? With an anger that rises from fear, with a relentless effort to free herself, and with no care or worry for what might be the outcome. Yes! That is exactly I was going to react.
Several doors opened and closed, while I was dragged, lifted, turned about and then finally placed on rest. What I felt beneath me wasn't the hard surface of the trunk, it was soft, and there was more air to breath. There was no suffocation nor any banging across walls, and I concurred that this time I will be travelling in the backseat of the car. Good for me, bad for him, because I was in a mood to make this trip a hell for him. I let the car start and waited for another 5-10 minutes, before beginning my planned and controlled ruckus. The thong stuffed in my mouth was so wet, it had reduced to a small wad of mess, leaving room for air in my oral cavity.
Taking a deep breath, I started yelling as loudly as I could. No specific words were necessary, no shouts for "help" or "let me go". Just pure screams, rising form the throat and ending in the taped lips. Simultaneously, I started hitting the door with my feet, and moving my torso back and forth as much as I could. I paused to see if there was any effect. Well there was, but not in my favor. He turned up the music on his stereo and it subdued my screams. Yet, I was not so easily discouraged, and continued the screams and the door-thrashing with as much vigor as I could muster. And then suddenly, the car screeched to a halt. Yay!!
Doors opened and closed, I felt being lifted and then dropped again, not in the trunk, but on the floor. His sedan had enough legroom to accommodate the golf bag with me in it, on the floor. I resumed my thrashing, until I heard a feminine voice, "What the fuck?"
What the fuck indeed, for that voice was of his whore, and until that moment I had no idea she was in the car too. The car started again, and the zip was slightly opened, small hands were on my taped mouth again, and feet were on my bum. She was on the backseat now, which infuriated me even further. Is creamed through her palm, and instantly received a hard slap on my face. The zip was closed again, and almost immediately I felt something heavy being dumped on me. The blankets from the trunk - one by one were laid out on the bag, and above them she rested her tiny feet. One on my ass, and the other on my face, crushing my nose and mouth. There was no room to move, and even if I struggled, a passer-by or a car next to ours, would never realize that there was tied up girl beneath this woman's feet. With that all my planning and resolve got kicked in the butt. Literally.
Rest of the journey remained largely uneventful, except my continuous attempts to re-adjust my position, as being stationery was impossible, considering the state I was in. Finally, the crazy ride was over, and from all the turns he had taken, I was confident that we were back in his bedroom. Yet, I was still crammed up in the bag. It had been more than a few minutes, but he hadn't taken the pain of unzipping the bag and getting me out. My arms and shoulder ached from lying in that balled up position. The tape stuck so tight that I feared my skin would come off when it was finally ripped off. I could hear sounds of him shuffling around, of something heavy being moved, and the smell of cigarettes. He was smoking, right now? Having his cigarette was more important than releasing me from the bag. I tried to shout, but the black panties had soaked up my saliva, leaving my mouth and throat dry. One thing was for sure, I was going throw those panties right at his smug face as soon as he untied my hands.
I was imagining myself doing that, when finally, the zip opened, but the bra-blindfold made sure that I couldn't see a thing. He lifted me up and held me as I tried to stand. I had no control over my legs, and it took a while before I could stand steadily. He undid the blindfold's knot, breaking of a few strands of my hair, making me grunt in anger. Scissors snipped around my waist, breasts and wrists, tearing the tape apart. Most of it was still stuck to my hands and my t-shirt but at least my hands were free. With that he just walked away. Slowly I removed the tape from my lips, and then pulled out the panties from my mouth. They were all wet and stinky and as they came out of my mouth, I got a retching feeling. Somehow, I controlled it and turned around and threw them right at his face.
