Mark Townsend - White captive

Susan started to open the refrigerator to get the milk, changed her mind and turned back to the half-empty bottles on the counter. She still felt a little light-headed from the small amount Richard had slipped in their Cokes at the club and decided quickly that perhaps another little bit might help get her out of this foul mood and get to sleep faster. Things had been piling up on her so fast in the last few months she could hardly stand it.

She took a glass from the shelf and poured herself a small amount, thought again, and poured the glass half-full. Might as well really sleep, she thought with a girlish giggle, filling the glass the rest of the way with Coke and lifting it to her lips. She drained half the glass, feeling the warm liquid relaxing her almost instantaneously as it hit bottom. She was ravenously hungry and that seemed to help speed the welcomed nerve settling reaction to the warm smooth alcohol. She finished it and filled the glass again to take upstairs with her. The light-headed tingle running through her mind helped no end and she didn't want it to stop before she got to sleep. She was afraid of the thoughts she would have to think, and right now would prefer to put if off until tomorrow. There was nothing she wanted to do at this moment but sleep and forget everything.

She carried the drink in her hand and began the slow quiet climb to the top of the steps leading to the second floor. She held tight to the rail and took each step holding her breath. Her mother's bedroom was right on the landing at the top of the steps and she just couldn't wake her now, not carrying a drink like this and coming in so late. There was no telling how long she would have to sit and listen to the lecture she was certain to get if she were caught.

She held her breath tight as she reached the top of the steps and noticed the light on from under her mother's door. Oh God, she thought, she's awake and waiting up for me. I'll have to stop by and say good night to her now or I'll never hear the end of it tomorrow. She took a few guarded steps in the direction of her room to the right, and placed the drink she was carrying on the hall table. She pushed it behind the vase in the center of the table so that if her mother came out, she wouldn't be able to see it in the semi-darkness that covered the landing.

Susan straightened herself up bravely and walked to her mother's door. She raised her fist to knock and suddenly froze to the floor.

There was a groan from the room!

Oh my God, she's hurt, she thought, and her first reaction was to jerk the door open as fast as she could. She reached for the handle in the darkness and as her hand came into contact with the cool metal door knob, she froze again.

There was a harsh male laugh!

Good Lord, what was going on? Who was in there with her and what was he doing to her? It sounded as though he were hurting her.

There was another groan but it was longer this time and had an unearthly pleading tone to it as though someone were being tortured. The groan was followed by harsh slapping sounds as though someone were being hit across the face with a hand.

Susan dropped her hand from the door handle and started to back away, holding her breath and moving as softly as she possibly could. If she could just get to a phone and call the police before they discovered her, perhaps she could save her mother's life. She stepped back a few paces in the darkness, being careful not to trip, and then turned to work her way down the stairs. There was phone in the hall just below the stairs. If she could make that, she could talk in a whisper and who ever it was beating her mother could not hear it. It was then that the pleading voice spoke again.

"Oh God! Yessss, yessss, do it to me like that!"

It was her mother again and her voice was drunkenly slurred in a desperate pleading tone she had never heard before. Susan paled in the darkness and stood still for a moment. She was uncertain what to do now. The man was obviously hurting her but it didn't sound like it was against her will the way she was almost crying for him to continue. What should she do? Perhaps he was making her plead with him – perhaps he was a sadist like some of the men she had read about in her psychology course and enjoyed hearing a woman beg.

She was almost ready to begin her descent down the stairs to phone again when the noises suddenly grew louder. There was a second male voice that she could not make out too distinctly through the heavy thickness of the door, but it was unmistakably egging someone on to do something to her mother. Her voice was muffled and sobbing but clearly not against her will. She was asking for it, in fact, pleading for more. Susan stood breathlessly on the landing, trying to make up her mind what to do. She couldn't call the police or anyone else unless she was certain what was going on.

She had to find out and there was only one way!

She took a deep breath and worked her way slowly and silently back toward the door. She knew it by heart now – after all the times she had slipped from her own room as a child to that of her parents when she had been frightened by a bad dream or strange noise in the house. She could remember vividly, even after all these years, the exact amount of pressure to put on the knob to turn it without making a sound. All of it came back to her as she reached forward through the darkness and pressed her hand against it. Her whole body tensed as it turned slightly, and she felt it begin to give against the pressure.

There was a squeak!

Her heart stopped and she dared not breath. They must have heard it; it had been so loud. But no, there were still the strange noises coming through the door without letup, their intensity increasing with each passing moment. The door gave a little against her gentle pressure and the noises through the opening became more clear to her senses. She could discern the sounds of heavy rushed breathing and the staccato sounds of squeaking bedsprings punctuated by animal-like grunts and moans of pain and pleasure. A thin crack of light rushed into the hallway as she inched the door open a millimeter at a time. The light blinded her and she could not see for a moment – but the sounds continued unabated by her silent and unknown intrusion.

Her eyes adjusted to the intensity of the narrow path of light streaming into her face and the easy chair in the corner of the bedroom came into view.

She paled again and sucked in her breath in horror!

It was Mr. Evans. He was sitting back in the chair completely naked and holding his hard rigid penis tightly between both his hands. His eyes were glazed and he stroked the long hard instrument up and down in lewd rhythmic time to the now wet sucking noises she could hear coming from the bed across the room. Susan could not see what was making the sounds as she was afraid to open the door farther just yet. Mr. Evans was so close to her she was afraid to even breath for fear he might hear her. Instead, she stood immobile for a moment and watched in horrified fascination as his fingers skinned the thick foreskin of his uncircumcised penis rapidly up and down the full length of it, the huge bulbous head bursting evilly into view like a giant monster crawling from a secret lair with each hard down-stroke he made with his hand. She was close enough that she could see that it was wet on the top from the white, sticky lubricating fluid beginning to ooze forth from it. His breathing was thick and heavy and she could see thin trails of saliva running down his lips as he kept his eyes glued tightly to the bed just out of her view. His penis frightened her as she had never seen one before, and it looked like the most monstrous thing in the world. She could not imagine ever having something like that inside her. It just wouldn't be possible for any woman to take. It would kill her.