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From: an409775@anon.penet.fi (Stroker Ace)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an409775@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sun, 30 Jun 1996 02:36:11 UTC
Subject: New: The Ransom M/F NC
Lines: 299
Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:167568
The Ransom
WARNING!
Contains forced sex, and violence.
This story may be distributed electronically provided it
is complete, unaltered and with this statement intact.
The author maintains all rights to this story.
(c) 1996, Stroker Ace
`The Ransom' is entirely a work of fiction.
The Ransom
a story of man's best friend
Its three am. She is asleep now but I am still
climbing the walls in anger. Worse is the humiliation.
Wired, pacing back and forth throughout the house but always
ending up, looking at her. Her face so tender and soft in
sleep, that sinuous body stretched out over the soiled
couch. Her hair is sprawled over a pillow from making love.
Breasts are full, falling together as she lays on her side.
Nipples are erect, even in sleep. Is she dreaming? Of
what, I wonder. I dare not touch. Oh how I missed her. I
realize again, as I have all night long, that I am blocking
the rest. Back and forth, I pace.
+++
It was just a few short hours ago when I got the call.
After two weeks he had called back. I was so glad.
"Your wife, is OK," he said. "I told you she wouldn't
be hurt and she wasn't. You kept the pigs out of this and I
held up my end of the bargain. I kept my word." His voice
was calm and measured. It was that confidence that scared
me.
The little box on the phone showed a local area code.
As I watched it flipped to a west coast number.
He was speaking again, "No, wifey can't come to the
phone right now, she is all tied up. Ha ha ha. And no, I
haven't raped her. You mind your manners or I just might
forget that I am a gentleman. Ha ha." I will never forget
that laugh.
I heard myself apologizing to him. Anything to keep
him from hurting my little Stacy.
The box was now showing an overseas number. He had
scrambled the relay center. I expected nothing less from
him. It changed again, this time to my own number.
Now he was all business, giving directions for the
ransom. I had to interrupt him, "Did you say one thousand
dollars?" That's all he wanted to get my wife, my lover, my
Stacy back. A lousy grand. I had expected a ransom demand
and had withdrawn everything we had saved for our first
house, over ten thousand. I could have paid more if I had
too. Stacy's father, would have sold one of his car
dealerships, anything to get his only daughter back. But he
only wanted a thousand. I scribbled furiously. First drop
off the money at an airport locker. Then west out of the
city, into the Everglades.
I was never more scared than that drive deep into the
glades. A tractor path through the sawgrass as high as the
car and razor sharp palmetto palms scratching against the
windshield. The headlights were too low to be of any real
use. In places the road was washed away. With a groan the
little van would splash into the blackness. Every time I
wondered if it would make it out. But it did.
The trail got narrower and then just ended, the
headlights shinning on scraggly bush. Then I saw her,
standing, all but her face covered by an old sheet. One
hand clutched the sheet tight to her body, her other brushed
madly at the insects swarming about her. She danced from
foot to foot trying to keep them off her bare feet. I
opened the door, intending to go to her when a huge dog,
black as night, came between us. The dog stood higher than
her waist, his teeth barred, eyes dark as coals. The growl,
deep and menacing echoed through the glades. I froze. The
dog looked like he was about to lunge at my throat.
"Its OK, boy." She said those simple words and that
monster relaxed. She ran around the front of the van,
dropping the sheet in the mud. She slipped into the
passenger chair, her body naked in the overhead light. We
twisted in our seats and hugged, my mouth seeking hers to
say what words could not. A kiss and she pulled away. I
held her, rubbing my hands over what used to be so familiar.
Her wide shoulders, down to a tiny waist. Her breasts, they
used to belong to me, they felt cool from the night air.
Her breasts, her back, her body. A body that I used to play
with. A touch, playful and light or firm and demanding, I
decided what she would feel. Then she was taken. Some
faceless man took her, my woman. He decided when to give
pleasure or pain. He decided that her pubic hair should
grow out. But she is mine again and I have to know.
"Stacy, honey. Did he? Did anything happen? Are you
OK?"
"I am OK. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.
Just take me home. This place gives me the creeps."
I gave her my shirt to cover herself. She wrapped it
around her small frame, not bothering with the buttons. The
odometer showed twelve miles from the highway. We would have
to back up. I concentrated in keeping the van out of the
canal as we splashed our way out. I would touch her
shoulder every few seconds as we drove in silence. Finally
we neared civilization. The street lights were comforting
to her. At last, she could relax. I asked her about the
ordeal. She told me of how quick the abduction was, how
scared she was. About being driven blindfolded to a farm
house. Her fear grew when he didn't even attempt to hide
his face. She told of being tied, how she thought the rope
marks would never fade. I asked again but she said that he
didn't rape her. When I pressed her about it, she finally
admitted that he undressed her. "I had to turn around for
him, bend over, slut for him." I pressed harder and she
admitted that "yes he touched me there and there." But she
insisted that the man never penetrated her. She began to
tense again so I talked about how I missed her. I was
scared too. Scared for her. Then the phone call came,
"Don't even think about calling the cops," the voice had
said. "And she won't be hurt," it said. I had no choice
but to believe that mysterious voice.
We had driven out of the glades, through the city and
were now on familiar streets of our neighborhood. It was
over. She had survived. Our marriage had survived. The few
dollars of a ransom was a joke. I had my Stacy back in one
piece. Even her chastity was preserved, for I knew she was
telling the truth. The asshole felt her up and looked her
over but the fag never violated her. I could live with
that. She was lucky and I was too.
I reached over and pulled her to me. Her frame
dissolved into mine. It was just the two of us again. At a
traffic light I turned to kiss her, a long passionate kiss.
Her mouth opened and it was like old times. Growl! I
jumped at the sound. Deep, threatening at my ear, hot
breath on my neck. The monster of a dog was a heartbeat
from my throat, eyes blood red in the blackness of the van.
"Shit!"
The dog positioned its big head between Stacy and I,
still growling at me.
"Why did you bring that dam dog? Its so black I didn't
see it get in. It scared the shit out of me!"
"That's Luther. He won't leave my side," she said, as
if that explained everything.
Horns were blowing, the light had changed, I had to
drive on.
Our home, a modest duplex was up ahead. We both longed
to put this nightmare behind us, to get on with our lives.
We dreamed of buying our own place with room for children.
In fact Stacy had stopped taking the pill. Soon we will
start a family. I parked at the curb. Stacy immediately
jumped out, the dog bounding at her heels, always close.
The dog was overly protective, that was obvious. Perhaps
that was what she needed. I don't like big dogs. They
scare me. But I thought we should keep him. With a dog
like that, she would not have been seized. That guy must
have been a psycho. Kidnapping a beautiful woman just to
touch and look at her, that joke of a ransom, leaving her in
the glades, naked but for a sheet and a dog. A nut case for
sure.
Inside, we celebrated with a bottle of wine, some more
talk of how I missed her, of her friends, of what I would
like to do to that guy. She wanted to drop it. Not to
mention it to anyone, especially not the police. She
claimed it was too embarrassing. The giant of a dog curled
in the middle of the floor. Stacy was talking up a storm,
smiling, gesturing with her hands as she did when she was
happy. My shirt flashed over her privates as she walked.
Luther got up stretching massive front paws. The dog
casually looking around before nuzzling its huge head just
beneath Stacy's breasts. Stacy froze, the smile fading.
The dog nudged her again but she didn't move. A hint of a
growl, another nudge harder with teeth bared this time and
Stacy took a step backwards, backing up until sprawling
backwards on the couch.
I moved to stand. The big dog leapt across the room at
me in a single bound. Teeth barred at my throat, that
glare. I sank back in my chair. The dog returned to Stacy,
glancing occasionally at me, I knew I would not get a second
warning. His tongue wide, saliva drooling, lapped up,
across Stacy's exposed sex. The tip, curled up, probing,
wetting, teasing her vulva. He stepped up, huge front paws
tight against Stacy's trembling body, her arms to the
outside. The dog stood, back straight, looking down as
tears formed in Stacy's eyes. As I watched his cock
extended, like a hydraulic ram, straight and pink, networked
with veins and still growing. The base a darker pink,
throbbed. Moving forward Luther's cock sledge hammered
blindly against my wife's defenseless pussy. A woman's
sigh long and low of pleasure or pain I couldn't tell, and
Stacy raised her knees. Her bare feet, rocked in the air on
each side of the animal. Finding her slit, Luther plunged
his hips into my wife, his shaft bending as it rammed home
against her cervix. She cried out, shrill and high, clearly
in pain. The dog raised his head and howled, then lowered
that massive neck to tongue at her face. His hips worked in
and out, rear paws perched for leverage. I could see white
fluid, thinner than mine leaking from Stacy's vagina, but
she was still stretching for Luther went deeper and deeper
with each stroke. He was howling again, fucking Stacy at a
furious pace. Relentless, deep rapid fucking, Stacy crying
out, ohh, ohh, ohh, ohh, drool falling in her mouth being
sucked in only to be spit out. His cock rigid and swollen,
welded into Stacy. They moved as one, her body thrusting
back and forth with the dog. Her eyes open wide, pupils
glossy and rolled back. She moaned between labored breaths,
her body flushed beet red, perspiration beading on her
forehead. Indeed her whole body glistened with sweat.
Luther howled, his tail arrow straight. He licked her and
again howled. The couple next door were pounding on the
wall, no doubt afraid of what their young children were
hearing. Stacy wrapped her legs around the dog, her calf
muscles swelled with the effort. Both her arms latched
around his neck. She let her head fall back, her hair
falling on a pillow. Only her shoulders rested on the
couch. Luther had slowed that furious pace, but was still
fucking Stacy back and forth as she clung to his cock. His
sperm shoot in spurts from her stuffed womb as he continued
to pump her.
Luther was quieter now, fucking gently pausing at times
to lick her throat or mouth. He could so easily sink his
teeth into her throat, tear it open, but instead he licked
it tenderly. Stacy kept her heels lock across his back,
being careful to move her body with his. Her breathing
became easier, but she continued to moan with a pain that is
so satisfying to a woman. Her eyes refocused. She looked
around the room, finding me still frozen in my chair.
After a while she whispered, "I can't stop him."
I didn't know what to say.
Several long minutes dragged by in silence. Luther was
still rocking Stacy, hanging on to his prick. His drool was
all over her face and chest. Stacy would moan when he
shoved into her. She retighten her legs on his back.
"It hurts," she said. "Awful. You see, he has this
bulb at the end that swells. Gets real big, real hard.
When that happens I fill up, tight and hurting. He could
rip me apart unless I move with him." She was looking at
the ceiling. "When he knots like this it may be ten or
twenty minutes. Sometimes he wants to walk around. That's
not good for me."
The watery cum was leaking from her, trailing down her
ass. "How could you, Stacy? Fucking a dog!" That was the
only thing I could say. His cum was all over my wife and
the couch.
"He did it to me. Forced me." Stacy pulled her body up
with her legs and shifted her ankles higher on the dog's
back. "Gave me to his dogs." She readjusted her arms. For
a moment my sweet wife dangled free underneath the dog.
"Over and over. Day and night," she said, pausing as Luther
licked her mouth. I don't think she realized that she
returned a quick kiss. "Then he trained Luther to do me
whenever he wanted." Stacy wiped her face on the dogs
neck. "Whenever he wants to, the dog rapes me."
-Stroker Ace-
Comments welcome
an409775@anon.penet.fi
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