It all came so suddenly. The touch of fingers on her body that woke her from her dreams, the blindfold, the gag, her futile attempts at struggling, and the realization that there must have been several men restraining her. In a few quick heartbeats it was all over. She was hogtied, carried from her home, and bundled into a vehicle. Then her gag had been removed, but when she asked what her kidnappers wanted the response was a blow to the stomach that left her breathless and in pain, and a curt warning that she was not to make any sound, for whatever reason, or suffer further and much more severe punishment. Then she had been transported to who knows where, her bonds loosened, her upper body pilloried, her bare feet chained slightly apart, and left alone. She was terrified, and her blindfold wet with tears, yet she sensed nothing about her and dared not speak. All she could think of was her family, her husband who had gone on an overseas business trip, and her children who had been sleeping in the room next to hers. Were they safe? Had they been taken too?
After what seemed like hours, she finally sensed brightness, as though someone turned on the lights, which in fact they did. Through her blindfold she saw dark shapes move in front of her, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs. She had the feeling that they were studying her, checking her out, sizing up her assets through her nightgown, but the shapes never stayed for long. Then finally one shape lingered, and she felt it approach.
“Hmm…” the man was mumbling to himself. She felt hands brush her shoulder-length hair aside, revealing her face. “35, perhaps,” she heard him comment. “No wrinkles, not much flab. Still not a great beauty, but decent enough.” She suddenly felt embarrassed, and an eternity ago she might even have been offended, but remembering the warning she said nothing.
Then she felt fingers undoing the front buttons of her nightgown. No, she thought frantically, and started to thrash about, but she was securely restrained, and when she felt the light tap of a cane on her back she stilled, the earlier blow to the stomach still fresh in her mind. Steadily the fingers continued, until all the buttons were undone and the nightgown fell open. Hands moved the nightgown aside as far as the pillory would allow, exposing her body. She did not usually wear bras to sleep, although she did wear panties, and her nipples were instantly erect at the cool air. “No bra,” the man commented, and her frenzied mind immediately conjured up images of how slutty he must think she is, how wearing bras to bed cause breast cancer, how much her stomach still hurt, and as the seconds passed with the man making no move, how she had never gone topless even at the beach, how she was about to be raped, how hot, wet lips were about to latch onto her nipples. No, she thought, but all the man did was grasp her left breast in his hand, hefting it, kneading it. “OK breasts, reasonably firm for the age. Looks like B cups, not big but adequate on this body, very noticeable sag though.” Then the hand left her breast, and all she could think about was how accurately the man had assessed her bra size, how she had been thinking of getting mastopexy surgery precisely because of the sag, and how much her right breast craved for attention as well.
A hand yanked her panties to her knees, interrupting her reverie, and she felt the man’s eyes on her most private place. “Hairy,” was his comment, for she did not shave, and then she felt fingers lightly touching her mound. The fingers explored, teasing her clitoris out from its hood. Then the man plunged his fingers into her. “Not very tight,” he mumbled. Of course not, she wanted to yell, I’ve had three children. But she said nothing, the invading fingers pulled out, and the shape in front of her moved and was gone.
She hung there for she knew not how much longer, her breasts and vulva on display, but although more shapes walked by, none approached her. No, she thought, until eventually a rough hand pulled her panties back up and buttoned the nightgown. It’s over. She smelt a strange sickly odor and immediately started to feel faint, and the last thing she remembered was her restraints being undone.
When she woke up, she was back in her bed. “What a nightmare,” she said aloud. Her dreams, usually vague, was strangely vivid this time. She pulled herself out of bed and headed to the washroom, eager to splash some water on her face, when she suddenly noticed the bruises on her wrists.