“Settle the fuck down,” he said. He raised his leg and kicked her, landing a hard blow near her hip. She cried out, then went silent, pressing herself against the passenger door. She kept her legs tucked tightly together. He kept glancing at her and would run his finger under the hem of her skirt, just to freak her out.
“Sit up next to me,” he said. “I won’t ask twice.”
Very slowly, very reluctantly, she sat up properly. Her arms ached from being fixed behind her, and her hip felt bruised. He was carefully watching the road, but he couldn’t help looking at her legs. He ran his hand lightly up her thigh. She winced, and pressed her legs nearly imperceptibly closer together. She wanted to pull her skirt down.
“You’re a very pretty girl, Nicole. I’ll bet you wear pretty lingerie, too.” He slowly pulled down one side of her blouse, so he could see the black bra strap against her lightly-tanned skin. “I was expecting pink.”
Glancing briefly at the road, he moved his hand down and located the top button and quickly had her blouse undone, feeling inside for her breast. He gave it a small squeeze, and tried to get his finger under the bra to feel her nipple.
“What about the panties?” He took his hand out, and let his fingers slide over her skirt, just to tease her.
She sat tensely, with one side of her blouse pulled down to expose her left bra-clad breast. Her heart was hot and strangled. This prick was having way too much fun with her, and there was no help for her.
“Do you enjoy wearing sexy underwear, even when you’re back home and your boyfriend’s over here? Does anyone else get to see it, or does it just go to waste? Answer me, Nicole.”
“I wear normal underwear,” she said.
“Normal. What’s normal for you? What do you Australian girls wear?”
“I don’t know, just plain bra and knickers.”
“Knickers, that’s cute. I like that. Are you still at school, working, what?” he asked.
“I have a job.”
“Yeah? Where do you work?”
“Um… “ She wasn’t sure what to answer. She didn’t want him to know a single thing about her, and yet in this position with him, she felt as if everything came out by itself.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” he said gently, as if she were a child.
They drove for about half an hour in silence. They were out in the country a bit, and he turned onto a smaller road. The idea that he knew exactly where he was going made her chest pain. Trying to pluck up some courage, she nervously licked her lips.
“I’m visiting here just a couple of weeks, then I’m heading back home. My parents are planning a huge Christmas this year. Do you get to see your family often?” She tried to coax him into conversation and make him see her as a person, not just a thing, but he didn’t answer so she asked, “What’s your name?”
He smiled at her, as if he knew what she was doing. “You can call me James,” he said.
He didn’t look at her for a long time, but stared straight ahead. She was getting desperate, trying to get him to talk to her, asking different questions. She was trying to find out information and establish a bond with him. He didn’t answer much. He pushed her skirt up her thighs several inches, displaying her legs. He touched them lightly, being surprisingly chaste, considering he could do whatever he wanted. He eased his hand between her clenched thighs, digging his fingertips as deep into the crotch of her panties as he could. He seemed to enjoy feeling her through the thin nylon.
“James?” she said.
“Yeah, baby?” he answered, his hand feeling all over her intimate parts, digging in his fingers, fondling, and rubbing.
“Will you untie my hands?”
“Not yet. Open your legs a bit,” he said, annoyed.
She closed her eyes in an agony of humiliation. Inside her something was exasperated to the point of insanity.
“If you promise not to rape me, I’ll go down on you,” she said. “It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”
He laughed. “Is that what they teach girls at defense class these days—tell him you’ll go down on him? If I want a blowjob I’ll make you do it, then fuck you. I don’t know about it being the best… making a cunt of your mouth, and bobbing your head up and down, doesn’t make you an expert cocksucker. Come here,” he said, gesturing with his finger for her to scoot closer.
She hesitated and didn’t know what to do. He took hold of her hair around the nape, and pulled her against him. She gave a scream, crying.
“Nicole.” He was quiet and very direct. She looked right at him. Her lips trembled. “You better get this straight. I’m going to fuck you, and it’s up to you how much it’s going to hurt. Understand?”
“Yes,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“Are you going to do everything I say or do I have to beat the shit out of you, you spoiled little bitch? Are you going to do what I tell you?”
She nodded, and briefly closed her eyes.
“Kiss me, like you would your boyfriend,” he said. She choked on a sob, then pressed her quivering lips to his, barely touching. His left hand steered the car, his right hand steadied her at her neck. He balanced his attention to the road with the enjoyment of her lips. He kissed them, licked them, sucked on them. Then he tossed her away, and she fell over the seats. He slapped her backside as she curled against the corner of the seat to get away from him.
“That ass is fuckably cute!” he said.
She saw that the passenger door had no handle. It was broken off. When she risked glancing at him, he was already looking at her. She knew he would be. He reached over and touched her. He ran his hand all over her waist, hip, backside, squeezing and massaging, while he sucked his breath through clenched teeth, as though he really enjoyed what he felt.
“I want to give you a good time, Nicole,” he said. “That’s what all this is about. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He concentrated on the road again, and she relaxed a little. She turned onto her back slightly, to conceal her hands from him. He glanced at her a couple of times, but mostly left her alone, and she began working her hands loose. She didn’t know what he had used. It felt like shoelaces. They were so tight, she couldn’t get her hands free.
Chapter 2
They drove for about another half hour. He had stopped pawing her, and left her to think about what was going to happen. Finally, he drove the car up the long driveway of an empty, rundown property toward a sad old farmhouse.
He pulled the car up right in front of the house, and turned off the engine. At first she didn’t move—frozen with a new fear now that the car had come to a stop. Then she sat up slowly, to prepare herself for what he was going to do. Her heart hardly seemed to beat. He exited the car, and she sat perfectly motionless as he put his keys in his pocket, and stood looking at her with the door open.
“Are you going to come out, or do I have to drag you out?” he said.
She considered kicking him, but she was afraid to struggle with him. She was afraid of pissing him off. She couldn’t even put her hands up to defend herself.
“Please, don’t do this,” she begged. He leaned in, grabbed her ankles, and dragged her toward him. He took a fist full of her hair, and made her sit up straight. The steering wheel was pressing against her arm, and the driver door had closed shut against his back. He pushed her skirt right up, so he could stand between her thighs, and kept kissing her mouth, the side of her face and neck.
“Nicole,” he whispered. “Promise me you won’t run or fight, not a bit.”
She kept her face tilted upward, tears trickled down from her eyes. He had her here, alone, miles and miles from nowhere. It was all she could do to refrain from screaming. He kept running his hands up and down her bare thighs. Then he lay her back on the seats, pulling the lower half of her body toward him by the hips so that her crotch almost touched his.