Paul Gable: Daughter degraded

"Oh, my God!"

Cindy Williams leaned against the barred window, peering up through the dirty glass at the evening sky. It seemed so quiet, so peaceful. She could make out the Big Dipper just beyond the last iron bar. If only she could be outside, outside where she'd be free from those… those animals who had taken her!

Cindy closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. Clenching her fists and pressing them against her thighs, she remembered the horror of being kidnapped, of being dragged from the parking lot in front of the Lucky's Supermarket on Lincoln Avenue in Santa Monica. Hadn't anyone seen her, heard her cries as the three men shoved her inside and drove off? And then how they touched her, feeling her tits, shamelessly shoving their hands under her skirt, reaching for her pussy. It had been her panties that had saved her from being completely humiliated… that and the rough orders barked out by Jack, the driver.

Throughout the long trip up to this deserted house, Cindy tried to make them understand. Her mother was a widow. She had some money, but certainly not enough to merit a kidnapping! It was then she learned off-handedly that there were other girls here, girls like her who had been swept off the streets and taken up to this retreat for… for what?

Cindy sighed, turning away from the window. Once more the teenaged blonde began to pace in her room – ten feet wide, eleven feet long, and just enough head space for her to stand up in. There was the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke in the room that made her wrinkle up her nose. When she had first been thrown in here, she had beat her fists against the door, the walls, hoping something in this rotting house would give way and she could escape.

But the walls were stronger than first they appeared. And they were up somewhere off the Angeles Crest Highway, away from any nearby homes where people might become suspicious and call police.

She sat down on the dirty wooden floor, holding her head in her hands. What did they want with her? None of them said anything after Jack had barked out his orders for them to leave her alone.

They had hustled her out of the car, pinning her arms behind her while nearly dragging her up the stairs and shoving her into the home. It was a large house, one of those three-story Victorian homes that wealthy rail barons used to build in the eighties and nineties. Cindy's room was downstairs somewhere.

"Noooooo!"

"Shut up, slut!"

Cindy jumped, holding her hands to her throat as she heard the cry followed by a slap then muffled cursing. The last epithet was ended by a choked sob. What on earth was going on here? It was too unreal for her to believe! This was the twentieth century. Things like this just didn't happen! She was going to start school again in a few weeks. Summer vacation had been a gas, especially those three weeks at Lake Elsinore with her mother. Somehow she'd managed to get rid of her mother and had sneaked off with Bobby Dennis. How they had kissed and felt each other. Of course, Cindy didn't let him do anything, although she knew he wanted to. She could still remember how he humped up against her, pressing his groin up against her crotch, rubbing her tits with both hands while panting into her neck. At times he shook all over. Cindy knew what was happening. She knew by looking down at his pants afterward and seeing that large wet stain just below his fly. He had cum, shot his wad in his shorts. Once or twice she had cum too. What a scary feeling that was, feeling her cunt opening and closing.

She had had to use the greatest restraint to keep from snaking down her shorts and letting him stick his thing in as he'd wanted to! But she had been firm, remembering her mother's words about throwing her out if she were ever caught doing something with a man before she was eighteen. It was a hard promise to keep. And now, what good did it do her? Those men would have raped her in the back seat it the driver hadn't said something.

Cindy smoothed her skirt down over her knees, trying to think of something else. The dark room, the oppressive smells, the terror of the unknown, all nearly pressed her to the floor. She couldn't let herself fall into depression. There was still hope, hope that they would let her go without harming her.

Once again she thought of Bobby. He wasn't the greatest guy in the world. His face was still a little pimply, and he was so awkward. But there was something in his eyes, something about the way he touched her, that told Cindy he would make one hell of a lover later on.

Just for an instant she wished she could be back at the lake, back in Bobby's arms. Would she let him touch her… there? Would she let him push down her panties, stick his cock into her? He had asked her several times, the last time nearly raping her. It was only her firmness combined with his over excitement that had saved her cherry from being ripped apart. The next time… well, now Cindy wondered if there would ever be a next time!

Cindy moved on the floor, feeling several loose pieces of sharp wood biting into her thighs. Strangely she enjoyed the sensation, somehow coupling it with images of Bobby and the lake. "No, no, take it away!"

The cry from the other room made her shiver again. What was happening in this terrible big house? Cindy stopped, her heart beating rapidly as she listened for more sounds. There were shuffling sounds followed by slamming doors. They were here doing something terrible, of that she was sure.

"Ummmm…"

Her cuntlips started to swell. Cindy bit her lower lip, her nostrils flaring, her flesh glowing with a strange warmth, the same kind of warmth aroused by Bobby and his magic fingers. She had played with herself before, sliding, her fingers into her pussy, dipping them into her tight fuzzy hole and playing with her clit until she came! But this was something different – the kidnapping, the terrible house, all those cries of anguish and pain coming from somewhere within. Cindy started moving her hips from side to side.

Did she dare? Hiking up her short black skirt, Cindy hooked her fingers around the waistband of her pink nylon briefs and shucked them down to her knees. She gasped as cold wood chips touched her sensitive labes.

Cindy winced, raising her tight little ass up in the air, hugging her waist, feeling her knees scrape on the rough wooden floor. She listened for more sounds. Nothing but silence. Good. She eased her ass down again, shuddering as the slivers bit, her cuntlips. It was evil to do this… so evil and yet so good! Her heartbeat quickened, her pulse raced while her skin flushed dark pink.

Cindy straightened up, wiggling her hips to position the slivers against her clit. Reaching down, the girl managed to touch herself in just the right places, working the wood chips against her clit. Cindy closed her eyes for a moment, digging her fingernails into her thighs as a particularly powerful spasm shot through her virgin cunt.

She was a virgin, but with powerful sexual feelings. She gasped when another contact was made. Her long blonde hair swept over her shoulderblades, her knees bent even farther while she spread her legs apart. One jagged sliver a little longer than the others creased her clit. She raised her ass, lowered it, then raised it again, rubbing the object over her clit.

Fucking. Yes, she was fucking herself, doing all those things her mother had warned her against. But, of course, that was mainly meant to keep her from getting pregnant. That was how her mother… married with a "bun in the oven" as her father used to say.

But something inside her told her differently. When she was out with boys, when she heard the facts in sex-education class, when she talked over things with her girlfriends, Cindy felt her mother was wrong.