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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Copyright by the author. Permission is granted to
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DumbGirl
by MeatBot (no address provided)
***
A teenage girl is held prisoner by some psycho she meets
online. (M/f-teen, nc, rp, msm mc)
***
Author's Note: This is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to reality is accidental and would be damn
surprising. Be warned that this story may involve
explicit descriptions of sexual activities, including
some defined under law as "Weird Shit".
Do not read this story if you believe that fictional
characters should not have fictional sex, or if you are
less than the age of consent in your social or legal
group, or if you live under a repressive, totalitarian
regime in an out-of-the-way place such as the USA. If
you like it, I did it. If you hate it, I didn't. If it
offends you, it was a misprint. If you want to sue me, I
don't exist. Sue the internet instead. Nobody's twisting
your arm. Leave if you don't like crap like this. These
are just words, people. Just words.
Be warned, this is a goofy, infantile, poorly written,
disgusting and depraved story with bad punctuation, bad
grammar, and lots of misspelled words. I am not an
English major. Deal with it. This story is all made up.
Except I did used to know a girl who had this problem,
with her vocal cords. If you don't like it, read
something else. Don't bitch at me. You have been warned.
This story is graded <TAME> compared to some of the shit
I've read in this newsgroup. This story is what happens
when you have too much free time at work.
***
Case Number : 091947137
Date : 13 August 2014
Interviewing Officer : Deputy Albert Kimmel
Report prepared By : CPL Vanderhoven
Incident Type : assault, battery, kidnapping, multiple
counts of rape, rape by instrumentation, oral sodomy,
anal sodomy, other charges to be determined. Address of
Occurrence : 557 Maple Street, Wilburton, OH 23104
Witnesses : Gomer Chaves : Arresting officer, OSP.
Mitchell Peterson : Arresting officer, OSP
Denton Williams : 911 operator, Male, 27, African-
American
Evidence : House [557 Maple St., Wilburton OH]
Closed-circuit surveillance footage taken from house.
Various videos including rape, whipping and forced
sexual acts. [closed by court due to content and nudity]
Fingerprints (taken from house)
Weapons : Colt 9mm Pistol/Firearm
Other weapons : swords, spears, various whips, spiked
chains. Too many misc. weapons of B&D/S&M nature to
catalog. [see inventory sheet]
--==+==--
[INTERVIEW : Victim is a white Caucasian female, 16
years 8 mos in age. Full name is Toni Alicia Whetson.
Victim is wearing white T-shirt with words "Makin'
Bacon" and silk-screened image of two pigs copulating.
Victim is wearing jeans and tennis shoes. Victim appears
in control of herself, though still shaken. Victim is
unable to speak aloud due to congenital birth defect,
but is able to whisper, leading to an exhausting
interview process. Breaks are noted in transcript.]
--==+==--
Okay, I'll admit it. It was dumb. I lived up to my name,
on that one. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done.
Okay. We got that out of the way. Start at the
beginning, you said? The very beginning? That goes back
a ways, almost two years.
I started doing IRC chat shit just because I was bored.
If you can believe it's possible to get bored, on the
internet. And, what the hell, I liked talking to people.
And I was normal, on IRC. Nobody knew I couldn't talk
like normal. Nobody cared. I can't talk like normal, as
you noticed. I only got one vocal cord. I frequented a
few channels, and got to be pretty well known. I was
kinda careful, I chose nicknames that weren't gender
specific, and I didn't admit I was a girl for a long
time. I liked the anonymity of it. I like being things I
really wasn't.
Finally, this one channel. It was kinda sexual, just the
name of it... it was named Panties... it was, like most
of IRC, full of lonely older guys looking for pussy...
can I say that? Are my parents gonna see this? Good.
Anyway, what the world seems full of, pardon me, no
disrespect to you guys intended, what the world seems
full of, older guys, looking for pussy.
Finally I changed my nick to DumbGirl, and the fun
started. First because that made me claim to be female,
something really hard to verify on IRC, and the "dumb"
part of it. It seemed to offend many guys that I called
myself dumb, but they understood when I explained it.
That name and I go back a long way, to kindergarten,
almost... the kids at school always called me dumbgirl,
because I can't talk normal. They were doing to be
hateful, of course, but I kinda grew attached to the
name. It got me a lot of attention on IRC.
I didn't pass my pic around a lot, I wasn't a pic whore
or anything. Just a few simple face shots to people I
knew well, and trusted. I didn't ever send any nudes, I
swear to god, you won't be able to find them anywhere
'cause I didn't send them. I knew better than that, I
knew that shit'll come back to haunt you.
Anyway, there was PileDrvr. Spelled P-I-L-E-D-R-V-R. I'm
sure you know that from investigating his computer and
shit. That's the nick he'd used for years. He was still
using it, after he... after he had me. He seemed like a
normal guy, he said he was thirty-three, which was
mostly true, I found out later... He basically told the
truth about everything, that's what fooled me, I guess.
He seemed kind and sweet, and he didn't talk sex that
much... he was interested in me, I thought, in my
life... over the course of a year and a half or so I
pretty much told him my whole story, my crappy life,
which I probably made sound worse than it really was...
stuff like that. He listened well, I felt like. He
cared, I felt like.
About two months before what happened... happened, I got
my phone. That's when it really kinda took off. By then
I'd found out that he only lived about two hours away
from me, and all kinds of other shit about him. Stuff
that made me trust him. He never begged for my number,
that's probably most of the reason I gave it to him. All
the guys in the channel were always begging me for my
number, once they found out I finally had a phone. But
he's the only one I ever gave it to.
He started calling me every night just to tell me
goodnight, shit like that, stuff I thought was sweet. He
never talked for long, just a minute, and he never
seemed needy or clingy or whatever. Just hi, how ya
doin', night, and so on. We did that for two months or
so before I met him. And, he was good. You guys say
there's evidence he's done this shit before? I was not
the first? I guess he kinda got some practice or
somethin', because he was good. He was smooth. Likeable.
We talked about meeting a long time before we ever did
it. He acted like he didn't really want to, that he was
afraid I might not like him, and shit like that. Of
course, that just made me more determined. Anyway, it
all came to a head when I got my license. And he was so
goddamn smooth, he didn't even suggest it. I was the one
who came up with the idea, I thought, although I realize
now I was just basically playin' into his hands. I'm
sure he'd had that idea from the start.
About six months after I got my license, I did it. I did
it on a Saturday when my folks were going to be out all
evening, and I'd have plenty of time. I knew there was
four hours driving, coming and going, and then I'd have
maybe three or four hours there. I didn't go there
really intending anything other than to just meet him,
get to know him better. I sure didn't go with sex in
mind, and I didn't make him any promises. I thought I
was doing everything right. I thought I was being fairly
safe.
Anyway, as soon as my folks left, I filled up my car and
got on the interstate. We'd made arrangements to meet at
a McDonald's, close to his house. I figured that was
safe, for a first meeting. He wouldn't do anything out
in the open. My phone took me right there, even though
it was the longest car trip I'd ever took alone. I was
kinda excited, I felt like I was getting away with big
shit.
I got there first, and waited a minute for him. I knew
it was him when he drove up because he'd told me about
his car a long time ago. He got out, and I ran outside
to meet him. I just hugged him, like he was an old
friend, and I thought it affected him slightly. He
seemed to love me already. Hell, I thought, we've known
each other for almost two years. It should feel like
that.
We sat, basically, and we talked. We didn't even eat
nothin'. We talked for a good hour or so, nothing nasty,
nothing sexual, he just listened to me mostly, I told
him about school and shit, and shit about my parents...
and, okay, I probably made it sound worse that it really
is... I mean, I know my parents love me and all that,
but they just kinda get on my nerves sometimes... like
all parents probably do.
Once again, I gotta admit... the idea to go to his house
was mine. He'd told me about his... collection... his
swords and spears and shit... guy stuff, I know... and
some of his bondage shit... anyway, I knew he lived
close... we talked some more, and I finally said, before
I go... lemme see your shit, your weapons, okay?
He acted kinda unsure again, let me tell you, he did
that well, he made me want stuff by acting like he
didn't want it. He was good, like I said.
Finally he said something like, "It'd be better if we
went in my car, so my neighbors don't see your car at my
place, and then I'll bring you back here, okay?" and of
course I agreed with it. I thought it'd be cool to ride
in his car, too. I locked mine, got into his, and we
took off.
Yes, and... I know why nobody at McDonald's saw us...
the seating area is off to the side, with a door... the
people at the counter never saw us. And, of course, we
never bought nothing.
His house was fairly close, maybe a ten minute drive. He
clicked the opener, and drove right in the garage, and
closed it. I didn't even have no reservations, then. I
had already decided he was what he represented himself
to be on IRC, a fairly nice guy.
We went in the house, and it was nice. You seen his
house, you know. I didn't notice the shit like locks on
the inside and the alarms everywhere. I just went right
in. He did show me a few things, I think now just to let
me know he was serious about weapons and shit.
Anyway, we sat on the couch, and talked for a few
minutes, then he said, "Toni."
I whispered "What?"
He pulled a small stool over to the table, and told me
to lay my phone on it and the table, supported on both
ends. He said he was going to show me a trick. I did.
Then, he swung his arm over his head, and just karate-
chopped my phone. He bent it into a "V" shape. Glass and
shit went everywhere. I was just shocked, totally, I
just sat there, thinking, What the fuck?
"Toni," he said. He stood up, and stared at me. "You
belong to me now. You must accept that, if you are to
survive. I own you, body and soul. Right, now, before we
go any further, I want you to bow to me. Bow, and say
"Yes, Master." Go ahead, do it. Or I will be forced to
punish you."
I just sat there, not believing what I was hearing. At
first, I thought it was some kind of bad joke. I just
couldn't believe it. He stared at me for a moment
longer, and then he just reached down and fucking
slugged me hard, right on the side of the face. It hurt
like hell. He pulled back his hand to hit again, and I
thought, shit, what the hell. What the fucking hell
ever. I dropped off the couch to my knees, and said,
"Yes, master," like he had told me too. I'm no dummy.
"Thank you," he said. He walked backwards, his eyes
never leaving mine. He took some kind of silver chains
out of a drawer, and approached me. I saw then they were
handcuffs, linked with a chain.
"Hold your hands out," he said, and I just stared at
him. He pulled his hand back again, and I said, "Okay,
okay," and stuck my hands out. He snapped the handcuffs
on them, and told me to sit. I did, and he put them on
my feet. I felt stupid, then, for letting him do it. I
knew I was fucked, and fucked bad, at that moment.
"I'll let you cool off in your room a while. Then we'll
have dinner," he said, and he led me, pulling me by the
chain. We went back into the house, and he took me into
a bedroom, where there was just a small bed. He shoved
me down on it, and left. I heard the door lock. Shit, I
thought. Shit. I'm fucked.
I just laid down on the bed, and cried. I mean, I was
fucked. I had already told him nobody knew I was coming
to see him. He knew I was sneaking around on my parents.
My car was at the McDonalds. Nobody had any idea where I
was. And my phone was busted to shit. I couldn't even
shout where the neighbors could hear me. I was fucked.
I cried for I dunno how long. Finally I head the lock,
and he came in. He was carrying some kind of whip, one
of those things people use on horses when they race. A
crop.
"It's time for you to stop crying, and learn how I
expect you to serve me," he said, or something just
about as crazy. I just stared at him. I knew what was
next, and sure enough, he pulled his arm with the whip
back to hit me. I jumped up, and said, "Okay!" and he
went to the closet. He opened it, and took out a dress
and tossed it on the bed.
"This is Saturday's dress," he said. "No bra or panties.
Put it on. Now."
I looked at him again, hating him. I already hated him
full strength, no warming up. He acted like he was gonna
hit me again, and I pulled my shirt over my head. I
dropped my pants, and stood there in my underwear,
stupidly wondering if he was going to make me go through
with it. He did, of course, he pulled back his arm, and
I unsnapped my bra and dropped it. He smiled, then, the
bastard.
I kicked my panties down my legs and turned away from
him and pulled the dress over my head. It was one of
those goofy fucking Japanese costume things, it left my
tits hanging out, and it barely came up far enough to
cover my... to cover me. I knew when I bent over in the
slightest, it'd all hang out. The fucking bastard, I
though. The fucking bastard.
He took my clothes, and tossed them into the other
bedroom when we walked past it. He was holding my chain,
again. He took me to the kitchen, and there followed
this unbelievable fucking lesson on how to cook his shit
and how to serve him at the table. He's so fucking anal
about shit, you won't believe it. You'll see, if the
stupid fuck lives.
Everything had to be just so, his food perfectly cooked,
nothing burned or even singed, the temps just right, the
whole shit. Like I said, unbelievable. But I did get
good at it, at least. The last two weeks he didn't have
to spank me, any. I'm a hell of a cook, now, at least.
I didn't do too good that first night, I burned the
biscuits slightly, although he did eat them. He ate
everything, and then he had me sit, and he fed me a few
bites of this and that, making me sit straight up in the
chair with my hands in my lap. He fed me like I was a
little baby. He said some shit about he didn't want me
to get fat or shit, I don't remember exactly. But he
sure didn't feed me much, while I was there. I was
hungry all the time. Shit, though, I can't gripe too
much, I wanted to drop five pounds and I know I'm down
ten or so, from what the doctor told me.
Anyway, I ate, and then he told me I must be punished
for burning the biscuits. Oh, shit, I thought, here it
comes. He made me stand, and place my hands on the
table, and stick my butt out. Then I felt him lift my
skirt. Then he stopped for the longest time, I guess he
was just staring at my ass. I thought, what the shit?
and then I thought, Holy shit! when he finally hit me.
That crop hurt like hell, and by the third or fourth
whack I was cryin'. He just kept going, how long I have
no idea. I know my ass burned until the next day from
it. Yeah, the next day, when I got another spanking for
fucking something up. Meatloaf, I even fucked up
meatloaf once, and got my ass whipped for it.
He took me into the living room then, and made me kneel
on the floor like a dog for like two hours while he
watched TV. And it was boring shit. That was one thing
that was constant, in the what, two months? Two months I
was there. Boredom. Boredom, and pain. A sore ass.
I knew he could see my ass, the way I was kneeling.
Whenever I looked back at him, he switched me slightly
with the crop, so I stopped turning around. I know he
was staring at my ass, I could almost feel his eyes on
it.
Finally he got up, and grabbed my chain. Off we went,
down some stairs, and into the basement. That made me
really apprehensive or something. It just seemed even
more dangerous than being locked in the house with a
maniac. But I had no choice.
He showed me the... the thing, the device. It was
something he'd built, I guess. You've been there, you've
seen it. The wheel. He tied me too it, with my arms and
legs outspread, the chain was long enough to allow that.
He turned on a camera, and then slowly turned the wheel.
When I was upside down, he stopped. My dress had fallen
down, of course, and I was exposed... down there. It was
right at face level, his face. Are you sure my parents
aren't gonna read this? Anyway, he stuck his face right
in my... my pussy, you know, and started licking and
shit. Then he'd lean down and lick my tits and shit.
Heh... what's your name? Officer Vanderhoven? You
gettin' embarrassed, you turned red on that one...
sorry... that's just the way it happened. You guys want
the whole story, don't you?
[15 minute break, took Miss Whetson to break room and
purchased candy bar and Pepsi, as noted on expense
account.]
Okay, where were we? Yeah, he turned me upside down, and
licked me and shit, and played with my boobs. He liked
seeing my boobs go up and down as he turned the goddamn
wheel, and I got dizzier than shit. I kinda hate to
admit this, this early, but it happened, and I think it
buzzed him good, I had an... uhm... a big "O" let's just
say, and I could tell it pleased him.
He finally had enough of that shit and untied me, and
let me get down. He took me all through the room, and
showed me all the shit, you guys have seen it, the
homemade torture shit, and all the whips and stuff.
Crazy. I was feeling worse and worse, I felt like I was
seeing just how god awful fucking crazy he really was. I
wondered at that point if there was any way I'd ever get
out, alive.
We went back upstairs, and he watched TV a while, and
then he took me through the house, and showed me all the
deadbolts on the inside of the doors, and the alarm
system. He tased me, he said so I'd know enough to be
scared of it, the mean bastard. It hurt like hell, I
just fell to the ground, and I even peed myself a little
bit. It hurt like I'd never felt hurt before. I was
scared of that thing. He told me some shit like the foil
on the windows would tase me if I tried to break out,
which was, as you guys know, bullshit, but after being
tased that time I was a bit scared of the windows.
One of your guys asked me why I just didn't throw a
chair through a window or somethin', kinda like he
thought it was my fault I stayed there for so long. He
didn't give me a chance, when I wasn't in my room, where
there was not a window, he was with me, holdin' my chain
and shit. You can tell that guy to go fuck himself,
unless he's been in my shoes he can't say what the hell
he'd do. I say that to anybody. And, I finally did get
out, so what if it took a while. Most of the time I was
there, my hands were tied. Literally.
I slept a little that first night, mostly I just cried.
He turned out my light, the switch for that even was on
the outside, as you know. I went through the closet, and
looked at his little fucking costumes, and thought,
shit, what a fucking pervert. I had to pick the biggest
fucking pervert in Ross county to be kidnapped by.
Although, the shit he liked to do, we shoulda lived in
Licking. Heh, I got a laugh out of Officer Vanderhoven,
that time.
Anyway, bright and early, the next morning, he opened
the door, and smacked me hard on my sore ass, because I
was still wearing Saturday's dress. I ran to the closet
and got Sunday's costume, and it was even goofier. My
tits hung out, and it had some strap thing down at my...
pussy... which kinda let it all hang out. Day of prayer,
my ass. Anyway, we did the thing then that I'm actually
kinda good at, I fixed him breakfast, and he showed me
how to serve it and all his crazy-ass shit. I only got
one spank, then, because the toast was dry, or some
made-up shit reason to whack me on the ass.
We watched TV for a few, and then went downstairs and
did the wheel for a while. It wasn't as much fun for
him, because of the way the straps went, down there, and
he finally unsnapped them, and had his way. He molested
me good, real good. He did have some talent, I'll give
him that. I got a headache, from all the blood running
to my head, but I... uhm... O'd nicely. I dunno if you
have to put that shit in when you type this up, officer
Vanderhoven... I won't say it from now, on, you can just
imagine it. Or not.
That afternoon was long and boring, he read some shit to
me, about S&M and shit, rules and stuff, how expected me
to act, and all that. You can imagine, you've seen his
bookshelf. It was mostly boring, with occasional bits of
scary. I was realizing more and more what a whacked-out
fruitcake he was, he was crazy way beyond normal crazy.
He was so crazy he acted perfectly sane, until we were
alone, locked in his house. Then he could be himself.
And, you guys are probably right, he occasionally said
shit like "before" or "once" when he was talking about
shit, which now makes me believe I was not the first.
You guys need to dig under that room he built on, and
shit.
Anyway, we've established he's nuts. He spanked me again
at dinnertime, because I fucked up the beans. If you can
imagine, I actually fucked up beans. I'd put them on a
few hours before, but there was something about them he
didn't like. He spanked me good, and my ass burned like
crazy. Then he rubbed some cream on me, which didn't
feel bad, but I knew he was just doin' it to feel my
ass.
I was a little surprised... that he hadn't... uhm...
fucked me yet. I was sure it was coming up, at some
point. I guess he wanted to let the suspense build, or
something. Anyway, he played me for a week, doing shit
like that. A new dress, every day. Oh, and I had to do
the laundry, too. His, and mine. And clean. He showed me
how to clean, how to scrub the floor and all his anal
shit, the house was spotless, at least.
I had to scrub the floor one tile at a time, for god's
sake. And dust. I dusted every day. He watched me, his
crop always ready to spank my usually-bare ass. I was
very careful, I knew if I broke something I'd get
spanked good. I did knock something off the fireplace
mantel once, but I caught it in mid-air, and he never
noticed.
We watched TV at night, the History Channel and other
gawd-awful boring shit. Mostly I just crouched in front
of him on my hands and knees like a dog, so he could
stare at my ass.
Okay, while we're talking about my butt... and you might
want to plug your ears for this one, officer
Vanderhoven... he was totally fucking weird about my
bathroom... habits. He followed me in, every time, and
usually got down on his hands and knees and watched me
pee and shit. Well, not shit, he stood over me for
that... it was fucking nasty just to have somebody in
there while I... pooped. It was weird. He was like...
obsessed with certain things... pooping and peeing was
one of them... there's more, I'll warn you.
By the end of the first week, I was percolatin' this
idea, in my head. My idea was, to pretend to be gettin'
into this shit, this being his servant, his slave... and
maybe he'd eventually give me more freedom or whatever.
I knew that it wouldn't be realistic to do it too
quickly... but I kinda started actin' like I was headed
that way. I tried hard to please him, I had a good
reason, so I didn't get my butt busted. It was to my
advantage, to please him, like a good little slave
would.
The nights sucked. I really felt alone, I mean, nobody
knew where I was, what had happened to me. After the
first week, I realized that the search was probably
close to being over. For some reason I didn't realize
you guys had my computer... not that it did much good...
I mean, I'm not criticizin' you... I know it's hard to
look people on IRC up and such... but by the end of the
first week, I knew if I wanted out, it was up to me.
He started me on another machine, after a while...
the... uhm... the fucking machine. I'm sure you've seen
it, maybe even seen the movies he made... no? They're
somewhere in his stuff... I see... well, thank the judge
for me, then. Anyway, we started that up, every night...
dunno why... I don't know his timing on this shit, some
of it was very... methodical, and some of it was just
fucking... crazy. Well, he was fucking crazy.
I can't tell you how long it was before he... before he
took me. Out of the blue, one night, I heard the key in
the door. I sat up in bed, wondering what he wanted. He
just had on Speedos, and I thought, oh shit. The moment
has arrived. He made me lay down on the bed sideways,
and he took some cloth, silk or something, and tied my
hands to my feet under the bed. My ass was in the air. I
didn't have nothin' on, that's how I slept. That way I
could just jump up and jump into the day's costume when
I heard him coming.
Anyway, there I was, my ass in the air. He smeared some
vaseline or something on my... my bunghole... and then I
felt him back there, and suddenly I lost my...
virginity... my bunghole virginity, at least. And it
hurt like a sumbitch. He went for the longest time, I
could hear him gruntin' and groanin' and shit, and
finally he just dropped off, in the floor.
My hands were asleep by now, and hurt like hell when
they came back to life. He finally untied my feet, and I
sat up, bitching and moaning. He took it that time, at
least, he didn't spank me. He finally took me to my
little bathroom, and made me get in the shower. He took
his Speedos off, and we crowded in there... okay, here
it gets a little... disgusting... he laid on the floor
and made me shit out his... cum, his sperms... on him. I
think mostly on his chest, and of course some... shit
came out, too... he seemed to be into that, somewhat.
We did that every night after that, I mean he started
pussy-fucking me, in a night or two, but he butt-fucked
me every night, without fail. And we did the shower
thing. He just washed off and dried off and left, after
that, and I had to clean the shit out of the shower. I
did tell him he was a perv once, and he just laughed at
me. Sometimes he could take a joke. But sometimes it
pissed him off, you had to know his moods.
At some point about this time we started doing the
sawhorse thing in the basement, and he fucked me proper
then. I mean he pussy-fucked me. Sorry, officer
Vanderhoven. He copulated with my vagina. Heh. Just
fuckin' with ya. Anyway, he tried out most of his toys
on me, before it was over. The spanking machine worked
fairly well, and hurt like hell. The barrel thing where
he stretched me backwards, that was the worst. My back
is still fucked up from that goddamn thing. If he lives,
I'm suing the shit out of him. His trust fund or
whatever is mine. I should get a share, even if he dies,
the bastard.
Okay. That's about it, for the next month or so. I was
just his toy. He fucked me, and he fucked with me. He
did the whole dominance thing on me, and I thought I
kept my head straight through it, but maybe it worked on
me a little. He broke me down and built me up the way he
wanted me, the whole time I kept thinking, just let him
believe, let him believe.
That was my goal, to make him think he'd turned me into
a zombie that obeyed him, and maybe I could see my
chance. He would have me do shit like stand on one leg,
until I was about to pass out, and he'd spank me if my
other foot touched the ground. Or he'd pinch the shit
out of my tits, and spank me if I made a sound. Crazy
shit.
He played with my tits now while he watched TV, I had to
sit in the chair in between his legs, and he played with
my tits. And my pussy, depending on which dress I had
on. We did that shit for hours sometimes. I mean, I
never got a break from the guy. He didn't work, hell, he
was there, all the time. Whenever he went out, to the
store or whatever, I was locked in my room. Otherwise,
he was with me. Or I was with him, I guess.
I hatched the idea one day when I was fixing him dinner.
I got in the cabinet, and I saw the bottle. It was
aspirin, that kind of aspirin with the long funky name.
He was in the other room, and I took two of them, and a
small drink, and held them in my mouth to see if they
tasted horrible. They weren't that bad. I hid the bottle
back in the cabinet. I hadn't seen any drugs or anything
around the house, I guess he kept that stuff locked up
in his room.
Anyway, several days later I was alone in the kitchen
again, and I took the whole bottle, and poured it into
his 2 liter Mountain Dew bottle, which was about half
full. I pushed it way to the back in the fridge, hoping
he wouldn't notice. He never looked in the fridge, now,
he just asked me when he wanted something. Told me,
rather.
The next day I took a sip of it, to see if the taste was
horrible. I thought I could taste it because I knew it
was there, but Mountain Dew has a pretty strong taste,
anyway. I hoped he wouldn't notice. I served him
Mountain Dew for lunch that day, and for dinner that
night. He got this funny look when he drank it, I hoped
maybe he just thought it had gone flat, which it
slightly had. He didn't seem to notice, though. I topped
his glass off for him, and he pretty much drank the rest
of the bottle.
By that night, I couldn't tell any difference in him. He
seemed normal. I'd kind of hoped he'd just keel over,
while I was out of my room. I mean, this whole plan
revolved around me not being locked in my room.
Although, I figured after a few days I could bash my way
through the sheetrock. But I figured if he'd be
incapacitated, I could find his keys and let myself out.
The next morning he didn't seem to be feeling well. I
gave him the rest of the Mountain Dew for breakfast,
even. He just laid around all morning, and didn't even
want to play with my tits. I kinda fussed over him, and
when he laid down on the couch I put pillows under his
head, and stuff like that. He was all pale and sweating
and shit, and I knew he was sick. I just stood there and
looked at him, and hating him for what he'd done to me.
Sure, it'd felt good, occasionally... I mean, sex is
sex... but he shoulda asked... he shouldn't have just
fuckin' kidnapped me. He deserved whatever I could give
him.
I looked around a little for some of his weapons, but
they were all locked in the basement. I thought about
trying to steal his key ring, but he still opened his
eye occasionally and looked at me. I tried to look
indecisive for him, and I was indecisive. About what I
should do to him. Finally I saw that goofy statue thing
on the fireplace shelf.
He seemed to be asleep, so I went and got it, and just
stood over him, with it over my head. For some reason I
didn't want to start it, I knew that it might be my life
on the line, when I did it. He finally opened his eyes,
and saw me standing over him. That did it. I smashed him
in the stomach with it, with all my strength, right
where I guessed his liver was.
I think he passed out, immediately. He didn't move,
after that first cough and wheeze. I bonked him on the
head three or four times, just to make sure he was out,
and he seemed pretty out of it. I pawed through his
pockets and found his phone immediately, but when I
turned it on it was passworded. Shit, I thought. I went
through his pockets, and found his key ring. I knew the
cellar key from sight, and the other two keys I tried on
the front door, but neither worked. At some point I
bonked him on the head again, for good measure. He
seemed pretty dead, although he was still breathin'.
I remembered, about that time, that even when phones
were passworded you could make 911 calls and shit on
them. I grabbed it, and dialed 911, and Mr. Williams
answered, and the rest, as they say, is history. The OSP
kicked the door in when they got his address from the
account, and they took him off in an ambulance. And here
I am.
Yeah. I think I'm okay. It'll take some gettin' used to,
to be free again. And I gotta undergo some shit from my
parents, I know, but hopefully they'll just be glad I'm
back. Although they probably enjoyed a slight break from
my nonsense. No, I'm just joking.
What do I think should happen to him? It'd be easier on
everybody if he just did the right thing and died, I
think. We'll see, I guess. He'll be on dialysis, if he
lives, they said, and maybe that'll slow his perviness
down some. If he lives, he'd better end up in the
goddamn pen, or I'll have to take matters in my own
hand. No, I'm kidding again. Kinda.
Hey, what do I gotta do to get my car out of impound? Is
it gonna cost me?
[interview terminated]
More stories by this author:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/MeatBot/
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 83