Jessi Bond: Kidnapped by the Driver

“I’m sorry, Rose.”

I’d never realized that he knew my name.

The inside of the cabin was sparse and cold, just a cot and a few chairs and a small table. He took me to use the outhouse when I asked, standing close outside the door, so close I could hear him breathing. He’d untied my feet so that I could walk, but he kept a vice grip on my arm as we walked, and I knew that was no chance I would escape from him.

He tied me to one of the chairs when we went back inside, his eyes occasionally flicking to my face, gauging my reaction. When I winced, he loosened the ropes.

Perhaps I’d been right about him, after all.

After a while, I said:

“He’ll come looking for me.”

The driver fixed me with an impassive stare.

“I’m counting on it.”

That was all he said for a while. He brought me a drink of water, then some candy when he heard my stomach growling.

My hands and feet were beginning to grow numb, and my whole body was cramping from being held in the same position for so long.

“Please untie me,” I said. “It hurts.”

He gave me a long look, then began methodically working at the knots. I could hardly believe my luck. I still didn’t think I could seriously get away, but being untied was just one step closer.

When I stood, he took hold of my arm again and jerked me over to the cot, slamming me down on the mattress with a sudden movement that took my breath away. He came down after me, leaning down on the bed, his knee between my thighs.

“What did he do with the money, Rose?”

His hand pressed against my throat, not hard enough to choke me, but enough to remind me that he could. I gagged and tried to speak; he let up, just a little.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sighed, frustrated.

“He had to have told somebody.”

“Why don’t you try asking one of his business partners? He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Where do you think I went before I came for you?”

I felt an icy grip of fear on my heart. If he’d already got to my husband’s closest friends, this man was more formidable than I could have imagined. The cold feeling shivered through my whole body, coming to settle between my legs, of all places, and I realized belatedly that my cunt was throbbing.

I licked my lips and regarded the driver. He was as handsome as ever, little beads of sweat travelling down the sides of his face. Obviously, my husband had done him wrong. Even within the world of organized crime there were still rules, expectations, and I’d always known that my husband tended to do whatever he wanted regardless of what was expected of him. But with the driver, it seemed like he’d finally crossed the wrong man.

I scooted my hips forward. I was only wearing a nightgown, flimsy and lace-trimmed, and soon my pussy was pressed directly against the fabric of his jeans. I rubbed against him shameless, not quite sure if I was just trying to distract him, or if this was really what I wanted. To fuck this man, this mysterious driver with no name, who was holding me for ransom in the middle of the woods as leverage against my no-good husband who didn’t give a shit about my happiness.

There was a moment where he was thrown off-balance, looking at me like he just wasn’t sure what the fuck I was doing. Then he was there with me, leaning down, his hand still pressed against my throat, his tongue flicking out to run up the length of my face, marking me. I felt a chill there as his saliva dried on my cheek.

When he released me and stood, I made a move to come after him, but he put his hand on my chest and pushed me back down.

“Stay.”

He came back with the ropes, but this time it excited me, the idea of feeling the fibers against my skin. He grabbed me by the hips and roughly flipped me onto my stomach, lashing my hands behind my back and pulling me up so that my ass was in the air, my face pressed into the musty pillow. I moaned aloud, not even caring if he knew how much I’d wanted him, and for how long. He pushed my nightgown up past my waist, exposing my ass and pussy to his penetrating gaze. Then, to my surprise, instead of the hot hard press of his cock, I felt his tongue flick underneath me and lick a hot wet stripe from my clit to the back of my cunt.

I shuddered and almost collapsed, but he held me up, his fingers keeping a bruising grip on my hips as he lapped at my cunt like his life depended on it. I clenched fistfuls of the blanket and cried out wordlessly, shuddering and clenching, coming within minutes on his tongue, spurts of fluid coming out of me and pooling on the bedclothes.

When he withdrew, the first words out of his mouth were:

“Shut up.”

He leaned forward, slamming his cock into my hot, dripping pussy and clenching his hand around my mouth in one movement. I bit at his fingers as he thrust into me again and again, fucking me ruthlessly with his hot, hard dick, slamming deeper than I’d ever felt it in my life. His other hand left my hip and grabbed onto my hair, jerking my head back, sending shivers of pleasure up and down my spine. Every breath was a grunt as he fucked the very breath out of me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been fucked like this, or if I ever had. I could hardly remember my own name. After a while, he released my hair, and I was almost disappointed until I felt his hand come down with a loud smack on my ass.

I moaned my pleasure into the pillow and he hit me again, again and again, every strike reverberating in my clit and making me breathless. Impossibly, I felt spirals of pleasure building again, and every smack of his hand against my reddening ass cheeks just made them spiral higher.

“You like this?” he said, finally.

I managed a quiet “ mmhmm .”

He just spanked me harder, spurred on by my moans, which soon grew into hoarse yells as I felt myself come again, going vice-tight around his huge cock. I would have screamed his name if I knew what it was.

He slipped out of my sopping cunt after I was done, giving me one more smack just for good measure. For a minute I didn’t know what he was going to do; then, I heard him spit onto his fingers and I didn’t know whether to feel frightened, or elated.

He jammed two fingers inside my asshole without any preamble, shoving into me ferociously, scissoring them open against my tight muscles and ignoring my pained noises. I never told him to stop, although I felt like he would have obeyed me, and soon the burn of pain became something a little more ambiguous. I had never granted this to any man, always told myself I was saving it for someone special, and if this wasn’t the occasion then I didn’t know what was.

Just as I’d grown used to his fingers, he slipped them out and replaced them with his cock, still rock-hard and bigger than I’d ever had. It pressed insistently at my ass, refusing to take no for an answer, and I tried to relax and bare down on him. Inch by agonizing inch, his cock slid into my asshole, filling me so completely and I felt I might burst in two. When he was buried to the hilt, he stopped for a moment, giving my body a moment to adjust. I struggled to breathe.

He finally began to move, very slowly, and I felt as if every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Every little thrust of his cock was sending shocks of sensation through me. I was beginning to understand why people liked doing this; it was unlike anything I’d felt before, more intense than the best sex I’d ever had. It was almost too much to handle, but I gritted my teeth and moaned my way through it, moans becoming screams as he began to thrust harder and faster into my ass. Before I realized what was happening I heard myself yelling at him, urging him to fuck me harder, my hand drifting down to my swollen pussy to stroke my needy clit while he fucked me in the ass. He slapped my hand away, growling wordlessly, and I understood. I was only to take the pleasure that he gave to me.