Flatmates
I’m not
really sure how much more of this I will be able to take before I go over the
edge – the feelings that are coursing through me right now are indescribable,
and mingled with more fear than I really want to admit at this time, but for
the sake of Patty I mustn’t show just what I’m feeling. She’s only seventeen, and too terrified to
even move, afraid of what it may do to her.
And I cannot
say I blame her either. After all, when
she came home with me and my flatmate an hour or so ago, I think this was the
last thing any of us expected to happen – and yet here we are, the two of us in
this room, and Betty – well, hopefully the same as us elsewhere, but we have no
way of knowing.
Betty and I
share this student flat, and Patty had come down from our parent’s place to
spend the weekend. Apart from the fact
we both have long wavy brown hair, we don’t look that much alike – I’m small,
and slightly dumpy, and she’s as thin as a rake. I like to wear browns and autumn colours, she
likes denim and leather. Take tonight,
when we went out to dinner – I had put on a brown smock top with a light floral
print, leggings and knee length brown suede boots with a small heel, while
Patty had on a blue denim blouse and leather pants, with black ankle boots.
As for Betty,
she had put on a grey jersey dress and knee length boots – and there they were,
on the floor by the door, where the two men had forced her to leave them before
they…
I’m getting
ahead of myself – and as I look at Patty, I try and reassure her it’s going to
be all right. As I move though – oh
sweet Jesus the way that makes me feel…
Anyway, we
got back to the flat at about nine, and I unlocked the door to let them in,
closing the door behind me – and then it started as we walked into the front
room.
There were
two of them, both wearing jeans and jumpers, and black gloves on their
hands. They didn’t have anything
covering their faces – but what they did have were guns in their hands, and
enough of a menacing manner to make it clear that they were in charge.
Patty
whimpered – which just seemed to make them angrier, as one of them went to hit
her. I stood in the way, however, and said that she was just a kid, and she was
scared.
That was when
one of them said he would show her something to be scared of – and produced
from a black bag yards and yards of rope.
Betty screamed when she saw that – making the second man say something
very threatening indeed as he grabbed her arm.
She was made
to sit and watch as Patty and I were told to stand facing each other, and our
arms were guided behind our backs, my wrists crossed as I felt one of them wrap
rope tightly around them to hold them together.
Patty was standing crying in front of me, so I kept talking to her, telling
her not to be afraid, that everything was going to be all right.
Betty tried
to do so as well, but it was more difficult when I saw the man take the rope
around Patty’s body under her chest, and pull hard, forcing her arms into her
sides as her chest was forced out.
It was worse
for me though – as my arms were constricted to my sides, and the rope went
above and below, I could feel the material of my top stretching tightly over my
chest, and I could see it forced up and out.
Even more so when the guy started to wrap the rope under one arm, round
the back of my neck and under my other arm, the same thing happening to Patty
as we both gasped.
Such lovely
looking ladies, the man behind me said as he reached round and squeezed my
chest and then I saw the other man grope Patty.
I think I said something about laving us alone
at that point, which only made them grope us harder, and then make us both
kneel on the floor facing each other.
We then
watched as they made Betty stand up, and ordered her to remove her dress and
her boots. As one of them watched her do
this, gun in hand, the other started to make knots at regular intervals in two
lengths of rope. We looked at each
other, wondering what he was going to do, but when he knelt behind me, wrapped
the rope around my waist and then pulled it up between my legs, forcing the
knots to press through the fabric of my leggings, I let out a yelp of surprise.
So did Patty,
especially as he tied the ropes to our wrist and then pulled them up, making it
rub – well, you can guess where it rubbed.
Which is why
we’re trying so hard not to move now – I can’t speak for Patty, but I can feel
how damp it is between my legs, which makes it even more sensitive.
Anyway –
while he was doing that, his friend had started to bind Betty as she stood in
her grey pants and bra, the rope pressing into her bare flesh as her upper body
was secured as tightly as ours. She
pleaded with them, asking why they were doing this – and that’s when they told
her, as I tried not to move my hands.
You see, Betty’s
dad is a director of a big financial company, and worth several million pounds
in his own right. The two men had
decided he was going to share some of that money with them, but they weren’t
going to kidnap her as such – just hold her hostage until he paid up. As for us – we were collateral damage, I
suppose. What they said was they’d call
him, and she’d talk to him, and arrange a place and time to leave the money –
in exchange for her.
Well, she
said it wouldn’t work, but then they said exactly what they would do to us if
she didn’t cooperate, which got us agitated as we tried to move, which made the
ropes – well, we stopped fairly quickly, as I was made to go and lie face down
on the couch, and Patty to lie on the rug on the floor. I watched as my sister’s ankles were crossed
and tied tightly together, and then her legs below her knees, barely aware the
same thing was happening to me as well.
Then they
produced three sponge balls, and for a moment I wondered what they were for –
until he pulled on the rope between my legs, making me yelp and open my mouth
and allowing him to push the sponge in, pressing my tongue down and expanding
to fill my mouth.
“WHhhh,” I moaned as a length of white tape was pressed
firmly down over my mouth, and I watched Patty getting the same thing, while a
rope was tied between Betty’s legs.
They them
frogmarched her out of the room, and that was the last we saw of her up to this
point. We just lay there. Patty rolling
onto her side and trying to move from time to time – but each time, that rope
rubbed that little bit more, and it started to feel more and more sensitive
between my legs.
We’d heard
her talking to her dad, and then nothing but muffled moans – but they had been
getting more frequent and louder, until – holy fuck, did she just scream?
I started
struggling like mad to get free at that, my boots squeaking as they rubbed
against each other, the ropes caressing and rubbing against my chest, my breath
coming in nasal gasps as I try to get free, and that one rope – that one damn
rope rubbing against me and…
And…
Oh sweet
Jesus! I gasped and arched my back as I
came despite my best efforts, and then collapsed onto the couch, panting as I
watched Patty. She was writhing round as
well, her pants the thing squeaking now before she
screamed into her gag and then relaxed, looking at me.
One of the
men came in, with something I’d never seen before – he must have found it in Betty’s
room. Two of them actually, like little
tampon tubes, with a quite buzzing coming from…
The dirty
little… I never knew she had them, but
as he pulled at the waistband of my leggings and pushed one of them against my
crotch, under the fabric and rope, I close my eyes and moan out loud – matched
by Patty as he pushes one under her crotch rope and pants as well.
He does
something else – tears off another strip of tape and presses it down over my
eyes when I close them, so that I cannot see or speak. All I can do is lay there and enjoy the
experiences coursing through me, accompanied by the sound of Patty going
through the same thing.
Again
and again and again…
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