Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an409775@anon.penet.fi (Stroker Ace)
Date: Sun, 30 Jun 1996 02:36:11 UTC
Subject: The Ransom (M/F NC, dog)

			      The Ransom
       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
		     a story of man's best friend

	It's 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 lies 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had expected a ransom demand and had withdrawn everything we had saved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
shining 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.

	"It's 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? It's 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 bared 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 shot 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 locked 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 still hanging on to his prick. His drool was all over
her face and chest. Stacy would moan when he shoved into her. She re-
tightened 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-
an409775@anon.penet.fi