Author: Elizabeth Heath
Category: Other
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"If your uncle is heartless enough to let you go to the next world, your cousins will start wondering just how good it is to be one those rich Spencers. I suspect his days in charge of the trust will be numbered if you meet a bad end."
"Or they might decide no one else will think we're worth the trouble of kidnapping if I end up dead because of this."
I feel his tumescence as I press against him, reassuring me that the love growing between us will be enough to save me.
"Put the suit on. It's time."
I point to the shackle around my ankle that will prevent me from slipping into the tiny panty that will hide my pudenda. He kneels down, turns the key in the lock, and the shackle flies open. The metal no longer pressing into my skin, I sigh with relief.
With a coquettish smile on my visage, I step into the flimsy piece of swimwear that will compose half of my costume as I play the victim of a sadist who will inflict any amount of pain to exact his price from her loved ones. But my only loved one is an orange tomcat, whose well being in my absence I pray for.
My captor's eyes are fixed on me as I drag the bikini bottom over my thighs, wriggling to goad the tiny piece of cloth into place. I place my arms through the spaghetti straps of the top, guide my breasts into the cups that barely hide my nipples, and watch the ersatz sadist in whose hands my life rests enjoy the site of my ample breasts nearly hanging out of the cups. I then turn and let him tie me up in the back.
I take my brush off the little vanity he has allowed me to have and run it through my wavy brown hair, examining my face in the mirror hanging just out of my reach outside of my cell. That lines of worry do not mar my countenance is surprising to me, until I realize that I have begun to feel safe with my captor. Despite the gulf between our respective backgrounds, we understand each other.
I reach for the tube of lipstick that was in the purse I had automatically grabbed as I was led away at gunpoint from my home.
"No makeup," he says gruffly.
I put the lipstick down and turn to him and pout.
"Just a little for self confidence!" I plead, fearing that I may look mousy in the last image taken of me while alive.
"Afraid not."
He pulls my arms behind my back. My heart pounds as he wraps a white cord around my wrists, cinches it, and secures the tie with a square knot. I wonder what it will feel like as I am suspended by the neck, hungering for air.
I try to free my hands, but the cord holds. My eyes shift to the door at the top of the steps. I see that it is closed, certainly locked by my captor, and I without a means to wrest the key from him. am helpless, completely in his power; my only hope his mercy.
I turn to him, pleading with my eyes not to be choked to death at the end of the rope. He says nothing. I feel his meaty right hand wrap around my left arm, the hand that had caressed me so gently as we made love the night before.
He nudges me forward, and I step across the threshold of the cell. I have not seen the sun for two weeks and wonder if I will ever breathe fresh air or see daylight again.
******
Did what we shared last night mean anything to him, I wonder. It had started as we were talking face to face, the bars of my cell separating us by inches; I naked, except for the men's dress shirt he had given me, and he clad in the black turtleneck, ski mask, and tight jeans.
Sharing a six pack of Heineken had loosened our tongues, and we found that both of us had a liking for the same foods, the same sports teams, the same movies, and even had learned the same foreign language in high school.
I began feeling wet between my legs as my mind created an image of the face behind the mask. What a brave and foolish creature he was to challenge the wealth and power of my kin!
A hundred years ago one of our goons would have finished off such a fool and walked the streets fearlessly the next day. But this generation of Spencers only had an armada of attorneys to protect the treasure they lived off. A brave fool such as my faceless captor could put a dent in the fortune.
It was his impetuousness that had seduced me, and I lusted after the power he held. Not the power of old money with a network of stooges to do its bidding in the legislature or the courts, but the dynamic of one who would throw away his life to right a wrong, a man who would die or go to prison satisfied that he did what must be done.
When I noticed the eruption between his legs, I made my move. I reached through the bars and drew Faceless close to me. Our lips met and we kissed. Our kiss was more than romantic; it was the union of two souls who had been fighting alone but were ready to make common cause.
He unlocked my cell door and threw me on the cot. I willingly received his rigid member and his ardor for me sent me over the brink. We reached orgasm simultaneously and he slept with me on the cot, not fearing harm from his captive.
Had it all been a lie? Doubt races through my mind as the noose looms larger. Am I the fool for having fallen in love with my captor, the one who is trying to sell me like a piece of meat? Were the pleasantries we had exchanged a sham to seduce me? Or was he just being decent by fooling me into believing that my demise was not imminent? But why should he bother with subterfuge, when with me in his power, he could force himself on me anytime he wanted?
I finally conclude that no man could make love to a woman as he did last night and not want to perform the act once more. But why must I endure the inglory of being hanged by the neck?
*******
We have reached the footstool. I look through the noose and then at the video camera mounted on a tripod ten feet away, ready to record my agony.
"Please, no!" I tell him.
"Once I pull the stool from beneath your feet, you'll only be conscious for a few seconds."
"And then what?"
"And then your Uncle Jack will pay your ransom."
"Will I be around for that?"
I wonder what will become of my body if my fate is to die today. Will he throw me into a dumpster? Will I be dumped on the roadside? Or will my corpse be hidden so masterfully that I will rot alone, never visited by the few people who are dear to me?
"I will take you down before it is too late."
There is no reason to delay the inevitable. I step up onto the footstool, reaching eye level with Faceless. He places the noose around my neck and pulls it tight. The knot is on my left, next to the angle of my mandible The hemp strands dig into my skin. I fight back an urge to try to free my hands and claw at my neck.
My body will only fall a few inches after he has made me airborne. The shorter the drop, the less chance that my neck will break. But I may rue that shards of my cervical vertebrae haven't been driven into my brain stem to cause my instant demise if I instead end up strangling under my own weight.
I plant a kiss on his lips. Our mouths open and our tongues wrap around one another as I enjoy what might be my last passionate kiss. His arms engulf me and we kiss until we run out of air.
He does not let go when our lips break apart. I rest precariously in his arms with a noose around my neck, ready to plunge into oblivion.
"Don't let me go," I plead.
"I must. Your captivity must be brought to an end."
He releases me from his embrace. I teeter on the footstool and he steadies me.
He bends over and I watch him wrap another cord around a leg of the footstool and tie a slipknot. Turning his back, he leaves his victim alone, perched on the seat of a footstool, no more than a foot in diameter. I watch the slack go out of the tether he carries away in his hand. But even if he does nothing, at some point my legs will tire and no longer support me. And then the noose will catch my neck, saving him the trouble of jerking away the support from beneath my feet.
I watch him amble over to the camera. In no hurry to bring my life to an end, eternity passes as he covers the distance. After taking more time to examine the device and make sure it is in working order, his long slender index finger extends and pushes a button, causing a red light to flash on. Realizing th
at I am being recorded, I stare blankly into the lens. On a table next to the camera lies a brown piece of cardboard onto which he prints my script in large letters with a black felt pen.
"I am going to be hanged because you're too cheap to ransom me," the star of the gruesome scene announces, reading the words on the sign he holds up.
I watch Faceless pull taut the cord attached to the leg of the footstool. I need a blindfold. I want my life to be over an instant after he pulls my perch from beneath me. But nothing happens.
I fidget on my scaffold. My heart pounds. Tears streak down my face. I am glad not to be wearing makeup.
I say nothing. I close my eyes, ready for the lethal jerk on my neck. Still he does not hang me.
I open my eyes and regard my captor. His eyes are not on me but are fixed on the end of the cord in his hands. I watch him chew on his lower lip. It is the first time Faceless has shown indecision.
He walks back to the camera and presses a button. The red light goes off.
Wordlessly, he returns to the footstool on which I am perched. His eyes meet mine and I flash a smile. He surveys me and his gaze rests on my bosom.
He shakes his head and turns away. I sense anger as he paces around the dank cellar, his shadow shrinking and lengthening as he passes through the illumination shed by the one shadeless ceiling light.
Is he angry with himself for falling in love? Or is he faulting himself for not being strong enough to bring this to an end?
"Please let me down!"
My words echo from the concrete walls in the empty cellar. Faceless stops in his tracks, pivoting to face me. He exhales, evidently relieved that I have not fallen from my perch and broken my neck.
But in his attempt to create turmoil in the idyllic life of the obscenely rich family which had wronged his father, he instead has only managed to inflict terror on its only guileless member. Selling me back to my lousy kinfolk or killing me will make no difference, he may now realize. Those who wronged his family can neither be redeemed or punished in this life.
My faceless captor strides over to my makeshift gallows and disappears behind me. I stand frozen like a statue, expecting him wrap his arms around my torso, jerk me off the stool, and break my neck. Instead, I feel blood rush to my hands as he loosens the cord around my wrists.
The cord drops away and my hands are free. Tears stream down my face and as soon as his faceless lips are within reach I plant mine on his. My arms encircle his torso and I draw him close to me, no longer even noticing the noose encircling my neck.
When our lips break apart, he walks over to the camera, removes it from the tripod, and then returns to his victim. He presses a button and I see myself in the viewfinder, standing helplessly with a rope around my neck, uttering what I was afraid would be my last words.
"Do you think it was good enough? Do you think it will make him pay?"
I shake my head no, convinced that my demise is in my relatives best interest, thinking my kidnapping has been a godsend to my avaricious family.
He frowns and the my image disappears from the screen as the viewfinder goes dark. He lifts his right hand to raise the mask from his face and I turn my back to him.
"No, I don't want to know who you are. If I ever get out of here, I don't want to have to identify you."
"Why? You'll know who I am sooner or later. I'm not going to get away with this. I don't even care about the money. This is about making certain people squirm, so they feel like the rest of us.
"Some people use the law to right a wrong. But the law failed my dad. All that is left for me is to wreak havoc. But having made you suffer, I feel no closer to justice."
"I won't help them find you."
"You'll feel different about me when you're free."
"When will that be?"
"I don't know. Goddamn it, I don't know!"
"I think I love you."
"I know you do. That's why I couldn't hang you."
"Were you going to cut me down?"
He does not answer.
"You were going to kill me, weren't you?"
"I just told you. I couldn't hang you."
"But when you put me up here, it was to kill me, wasn't it?'
"It was going on too long, I mean, you being here. If they didn't pay the money, they had to pay the price. Otherwise, bringing you here would have made no sense."
"Then go ahead, hang me! Get your goddamned revenge!"
"You're not the right one to suffer."
"They're my flesh and blood! One of us is as bad as another!"
I break into tears and sob. He tries to embrace me and I lose my balance. As I teeter, the noose catches my neck. I do not resist when Faceless catches me.
Our lips meet. My mouth opens. I can't help but feel passion for the monster who was ready to kill me. Our tongues wrestle. My pussy moistens and I long for it to accommodate the thing between Faceless's legs again.
"Please let me live, I want to feel your love forever!"
He opens his trousers and lowers them to his thighs, exposing his rigid cock. His hands tear away my white bikini bottom, ripping the fabric, so I am standing bottomless on the stool. I am then lifted away, seized by fear that he has finally decided to end my life. Instead, the strong hands clasping my buttocks impale me on his rigid cock. I sigh as he enters me.
He throws me up and down and as my arousal builds he pulls me away from the hook in the ceiling to which my neck is tethered by the noose. My torso falls backward and the ligature catches my throat. As he pulls me up and down his shaft my neck stretches and the noose tightens, stifling my wind.
With my fingers I try in vain to loosen the ligature around my neck, but as my arousal builds I am distracted and my efforts cease. I find myself stroking my lover's arm, the only part of him available to me, as I take the little gasps that are allowed to me each time before he slams me onto his cock. When we are ready to orgasm, he moves beneath the hook in the ceiling and wraps his arms around my torso.
A huge breath of sweet air enters my lungs before we kiss. Our mouths are an amphitheatre for our tongues as they dance together to the symphony of our love. I cum just as he spills his seed into me and I rest my chin on his shoulder, revelling in post orgasmic bliss as I wonder what is to become of me.
********
An hour later I am resting on the cot in my cell. He has left the door wide open but the manacle clamped around my right ankle tethers me to a concrete block. My hands are folded on my stomach as I lay naked, pondering how I will be disposed of.
The noose still dangles from the hook in the ceiling and the three legged stool that was my perch remains directly beneath it. How long my reprieve will last, I do not know.
The cellar door opens. Faceless appears. In one of his hands is a glass of amber colored liquid. The other hand bears white cords and another ski mask.
Exhausted, I don't even bother to sit up. He can kill me or fuck me. I no longer care. I realize he was right. My captivity has gone on too long.
He places the glass on the little table in my cell that I have made my vanity. I smell whiskey and wonder if I am about to take my last drink, a soporific before I am sent into oblivion. From his pocket he produces a medicine bottle and dumps two white pills onto my palm.
"Valium," he explains.
I stare at the two white pills. I should have been given them before he decided to hang me, I think.
"Twenty milligrams of Valium and the the two shots of scotch in this glass should put you out for a while. There'll be a fair distance between me and the cops before anyone finds you."
I take a sip of the scotch. It's good. Whether I'm going to die or not, I deserve a treat.
"Or when I pass out you can just put a pillow over my face and not have to watch me struggle."
"The only thing I can honestly promise is that this is going to end today."
I take another sip of scotch. It makes me feel alive as it burns going down.
"I'm going to have
to tie you. And then you'll have a ride in the trunk of my vehicle. Now please take the pills."
"What if I don't? Do you have the guts to kill me?"
"No, I don't."
I throw the pills into my mouth, take a gulp of scotch, and swallow my sedative. I sit up and undo my lover's fly. His semi-erect cock flops out and my right hand encircles it.
I stroke his organ until it becomes rigid. His eyes light up and the corners of his mouth curl into a smile as I open my mouth wide. My lips slide over the shaft and my tongue grazes the frenulum of his rigid organ as I aim to satisfy him one more time.
My head goes up and down as my tongue and lips excite him. I know nothing I do will alter my fate; I must just do what feels right. I am almost unconscious from the drugs and the liquor when he explodes in my mouth, but I do not cease my efforts to make his orgasm memorable, slathering my tongue over the corona, just beneath the glans penis, as my mouth fills up with his cum.
I expel his cock from my mouth and fall back onto the cot. He tosses me on my side, and I am vaguely aware of a cord being wrapped around my wrists as he secures my arms behind my back. I doze and upon drifting back to consciousness, find that a piece of tape has sealed my lips. Everything becomes dark as a ski mask covers my face. My ankles are bound with another cord, the manacle pops loose from my ankle, I am gathered into the sheet, and carried out of the cell.
******
I awaken, but it is not the noise of a motor and tires grinding against concrete that has disturbed my slumber. The siren of a police car blares as I am tossed back and forth in the trunk of a car transporting me to who knows where.
The tires explode as Faceless is forced to drive over the barrier the police have set up to end the chase. My head strikes the back of the trunk as the vehicle decelerates, forcing from me a muffled scream.
The car stops and the door opens.
"Put the gun down!" an unfamiliar voice demands.
A single shot followed by a volley of gunshots rings out.
"Call an ambulance!" the unfamiliar voice commands.
I now know that my ordeal is over.