Stolen (FMM/F)
Posted: Sun Jun 10, 2018 12:01 am
Molly sighed heavily as she mopped up the floor of the bathroom, looking forward to when her shift would finally be finished. She stifled a yawn, trying to ignore the ache in her feet from being stood up for six hours straight. Working in a small micro-brewery had been a lot more challenging than what it had promised - a straight forward way of making money before she went off to uni in two months time.
Six hours. It must nearly be one o'clock in the morning by now.
Molly picked up the pace, wiping her long, dark hair out of her eyes. She tried to avoid her reflection in the mirror - no doubt she looked exhausted, dressed in the bar's work clothes of a dark shirt and black jeans that always felt too tight. Ah well. She'd be home soon, hopefully able to get a good's night sleep before she was back in work the next night. Mopping tights up off the floor.
Tights?
There was no mistaking them. A pair of dark tights, discarded next to the cubical.
"Classy," Molly muttered to herself, grinning slightly. She'd seen many things since she'd started working in the bar - from pervy old men she could feel checking out her bum when she bent over to serve them, making her hate the jeans all the more, to furious arguments between young couples fuelled by bitter beer and overpriced cocktails, to the truly awful toilet habits that some drunken people seemed to maintain - but this really was special.
Trying not to think about why someone would lose their tights, she bent down to pick them up. And noticed that the fire escape, usually closed tight in the corner of the room, was open slightly. And swaying.
A slight feeling of unease ran through her. It was pitch black outside, and her manager was all the way upstairs counting up. What if someone was trying to break in? She was all alone down here, and at 5 ft 7, with a relatively slim build, it wasn't like she'd be much match for a bulky robber.
"Don't be stupid," she said aloud. She was 18 now, and couldn't let her imagination run riot. Trying not to hold her breath, she walked towards the door to close it. And almost jumped out of her skin when the cubical just behind her snapped open.
She turned quickly, finding a young woman standing there, dressed up in going out clothes. She had shoulder length hair, framing a pretty face with dark eyes. Eyes that were looking at Molly fully alert.
"God, you made me jump!" cried Molly. "Are you okay? What are you doing down here?"
The girl suddenly looked nervous.
"Erm, sorry, I erm, got turned around."
Molly surveyed her slightly. Something didn't seem quite right here. After a second, her memory kicked in.
"Oh wait, I remember you! You were at the bar earlier!"
Molly felt herself blush slightly. She'd refused to serve this girl earlier, as she didn't quite think her 18. And, as she'd not produced any form of ID, it looked like she had been right. Molly felt herself backing up slightly. She hoped this girl didn't want to have it out with her over this!
"Well," Molly continued. "Erm sorry, but we're about to close. Come with me. I'll show you the way out."
"Sure, okay."
The girl smiled at Molly, then started to walk past her. As she did so, something dropped out of her hand.
"Hang on," said Molly. "You dropped..."
In that second, she saw what the thing was. It was a small picture. Of her.
The girl realised instantly what had happened. She turned round with a look of horror on her face.
And then everything happened at once.
The open fire door suddenly swung wide inwards, to reveal a tall young man standing there, surveying the scene with wide eyes.
"Brad..." said the girl.
The young man, Brad, leapt into the room, grabbing hold of Molly and pinning her against the wall whilst putting his hand over her mouth. Molly, in a moment of sheer terror, found herself unable to move. She couldn't believe this was happening. It was as though the world had slowed right down, and things just weren't processing.
Slowly, she came back to reality. She could hear the two of them arguing next to her.
"What the hell...!"
"He's going to kill us!"
"What do we do?"
"I dunno."
Molly, heart threatening to beat out of her chest, suddenly began struggling mightily against Brad's grip, squirming and thrashing, desperately trying to cry out from under his hand. At first, he seemed surprised, then tightened his hold on her, panting slightly.
"Christ, she's strong! I don't know how much longer I can hold her!"
Molly continued to thrash about, feeling more and more terrified by the second. Brad was having a hard time of it, but he wasn't ready to let her go yet
"Steph!" said Brad. "Help me hold her!"
"How?" The girl, who was called Steph, looked as scared as Molly felt.
"I dunno! Maybe we should..."
"What?"
"Tie her up!"
At those words, Molly felt herself start to cry. She tried scratching at Brad's hands, but he grabbed her arm, twisting one wrist behind her back.
This could just not be happening.
"What? What the hell am I supposed to tie her up with?"
Brad looked round quickly.
"Those!" he cried, pointing at the discarded tights.
Steph hesitated slightly, before bending down and picking up the fabric. At this, Molly started to struggle mightily against Brad’s grip, scratching at his hands. He grabbed her wrist and shoved it behind her back. Molly was powerless as Steph started to wrap the tights round it.
“What… what about her other hand?” Steph sounded like she was about to cry.
“Plah!” cried Molly, desperate.
“We need to keep her quiet!” said Brad, sounding equally as upset. “Hold her wrist!”
Molly felt smaller, more delicate hands take hold of her wrist as Brad fished in his pocket, pulling out a small bit of cloth. Without hesitation, he shoved it in her mouth as she gasped for air. Trying not to retch against the bitter taste of the cloth, she was powerless as Brad twisted her other hand behind her.
Molly winced as Steph quickly started wrapping the tights around her other wrist, her fingers shaking.
“Hurry up!” yelled Brad.
“Shut up!” Steph replied. “I’ve never tied anyone up before!”
After a quick minute, Steph straightened up, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Molly quickly tested her bonds. Maybe if Steph hadn’t ever tied somebody up before, she might not be that good at it. Then again, Molly had never been tied up before. She didn’t know what to do. It was like these events were just a really bad dream. One she couldn’t awake from.
Before she could do anything else, she felt herself be quickly lifted up and flung over Brad’s shoulder, lightness being replaced by dark as he moved into the night. All she could see was a mixture of Brad’s back and dark floor, before she heard a car boot open and found herself be slammed into it. The boot snapped shut with a click, leaving only a tiny red light to illuminate the space.
Molly lay there as she felt the car start up, breathing heavily, desperately trying not to have a panic attack. She felt tears spilling from her eyes as she looked up at the ceiling of the boot, despair overwhelming her. Who the hell were these people? Why the hell were they doing this to her?
She swallowed, trying to make herself think. Who they were was not important right now. The only thing that mattered was getting away as quickly as she could. And that meant fighting them.
Molly was not a fighter. She was not an aggressive person at all. If anything, she was overly nice. Her mother always told her that she needed to toughen up – that the world would walk all over her if she let it. But that was her mother, through and through. Always eager to prove she didn’t need anyone.
Molly wondered what her mother was doing right now. She’d give anything for her to be here.
Focus.
If Molly was going to fight these guys, she needed her hands. And that was proving to be a problem.
Molly rolled over onto her side, wriggling her wrists, trying to find any slack in the tights. The fact that Steph had never done this before gave her hope. But they just were not coming off.
She strained, pulled and twisted, desperately trying to free her hands. Her fact contorted as she struggled and she felt herself beginning to sweat. For at least ten minutes she continued to pathetically wiggle, moaning softly into the makeshift gag that wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Finally, after one more mammoth strain, she relaxed, heart hammering.
It was hopeless. The tights just would not come off, no matter what she did. She was tied up good by discarded clothes! Tied up so she couldn’t escape by a 16 year old who’d never done it before! Truly stuck.
How was that even possible?
Molly felt a feeling of despair deeper than any other she’d felt up to this point. She was utterly helpless. And these kids were going to do… god knows what? Why did they have her picture? What did they want???
She wouldn’t give up.
Her eyes cast around the boot she was confined in, looking for anything sharp that could maybe use to cut herself free. There was nothing. No tools, no sharp edges – just an empty boot. Well, empty except for her!
“Mrph!!”
She pulled some more, half-heartedly trying to see if her fingers could find any knots. One big one was just out of reach – she could feel it brush against hand. Close, but not close enough.
It was then she’d noticed that the car had stopped moving.
Taking a deep breath, tensing every muscle in her arms, every tendon, lending every bit of her strength down to her hands, she gave one final almighty pull, trying as hard as she could to pull at least one wrist free. She gave a straining cry of frustration as she poured all of her might into her hands, gritting her teeth against her gag. She had to get them out. She had to….
Her bindings were just not coming off. She was either going to have to cut them free, or someone was going to have to untie her. In short, she needed help. And who was going to help her now.
She cried softly as she heard soft boots crunch on gravel. And then the boot opened.
Six hours. It must nearly be one o'clock in the morning by now.
Molly picked up the pace, wiping her long, dark hair out of her eyes. She tried to avoid her reflection in the mirror - no doubt she looked exhausted, dressed in the bar's work clothes of a dark shirt and black jeans that always felt too tight. Ah well. She'd be home soon, hopefully able to get a good's night sleep before she was back in work the next night. Mopping tights up off the floor.
Tights?
There was no mistaking them. A pair of dark tights, discarded next to the cubical.
"Classy," Molly muttered to herself, grinning slightly. She'd seen many things since she'd started working in the bar - from pervy old men she could feel checking out her bum when she bent over to serve them, making her hate the jeans all the more, to furious arguments between young couples fuelled by bitter beer and overpriced cocktails, to the truly awful toilet habits that some drunken people seemed to maintain - but this really was special.
Trying not to think about why someone would lose their tights, she bent down to pick them up. And noticed that the fire escape, usually closed tight in the corner of the room, was open slightly. And swaying.
A slight feeling of unease ran through her. It was pitch black outside, and her manager was all the way upstairs counting up. What if someone was trying to break in? She was all alone down here, and at 5 ft 7, with a relatively slim build, it wasn't like she'd be much match for a bulky robber.
"Don't be stupid," she said aloud. She was 18 now, and couldn't let her imagination run riot. Trying not to hold her breath, she walked towards the door to close it. And almost jumped out of her skin when the cubical just behind her snapped open.
She turned quickly, finding a young woman standing there, dressed up in going out clothes. She had shoulder length hair, framing a pretty face with dark eyes. Eyes that were looking at Molly fully alert.
"God, you made me jump!" cried Molly. "Are you okay? What are you doing down here?"
The girl suddenly looked nervous.
"Erm, sorry, I erm, got turned around."
Molly surveyed her slightly. Something didn't seem quite right here. After a second, her memory kicked in.
"Oh wait, I remember you! You were at the bar earlier!"
Molly felt herself blush slightly. She'd refused to serve this girl earlier, as she didn't quite think her 18. And, as she'd not produced any form of ID, it looked like she had been right. Molly felt herself backing up slightly. She hoped this girl didn't want to have it out with her over this!
"Well," Molly continued. "Erm sorry, but we're about to close. Come with me. I'll show you the way out."
"Sure, okay."
The girl smiled at Molly, then started to walk past her. As she did so, something dropped out of her hand.
"Hang on," said Molly. "You dropped..."
In that second, she saw what the thing was. It was a small picture. Of her.
The girl realised instantly what had happened. She turned round with a look of horror on her face.
And then everything happened at once.
The open fire door suddenly swung wide inwards, to reveal a tall young man standing there, surveying the scene with wide eyes.
"Brad..." said the girl.
The young man, Brad, leapt into the room, grabbing hold of Molly and pinning her against the wall whilst putting his hand over her mouth. Molly, in a moment of sheer terror, found herself unable to move. She couldn't believe this was happening. It was as though the world had slowed right down, and things just weren't processing.
Slowly, she came back to reality. She could hear the two of them arguing next to her.
"What the hell...!"
"He's going to kill us!"
"What do we do?"
"I dunno."
Molly, heart threatening to beat out of her chest, suddenly began struggling mightily against Brad's grip, squirming and thrashing, desperately trying to cry out from under his hand. At first, he seemed surprised, then tightened his hold on her, panting slightly.
"Christ, she's strong! I don't know how much longer I can hold her!"
Molly continued to thrash about, feeling more and more terrified by the second. Brad was having a hard time of it, but he wasn't ready to let her go yet
"Steph!" said Brad. "Help me hold her!"
"How?" The girl, who was called Steph, looked as scared as Molly felt.
"I dunno! Maybe we should..."
"What?"
"Tie her up!"
At those words, Molly felt herself start to cry. She tried scratching at Brad's hands, but he grabbed her arm, twisting one wrist behind her back.
This could just not be happening.
"What? What the hell am I supposed to tie her up with?"
Brad looked round quickly.
"Those!" he cried, pointing at the discarded tights.
Steph hesitated slightly, before bending down and picking up the fabric. At this, Molly started to struggle mightily against Brad’s grip, scratching at his hands. He grabbed her wrist and shoved it behind her back. Molly was powerless as Steph started to wrap the tights round it.
“What… what about her other hand?” Steph sounded like she was about to cry.
“Plah!” cried Molly, desperate.
“We need to keep her quiet!” said Brad, sounding equally as upset. “Hold her wrist!”
Molly felt smaller, more delicate hands take hold of her wrist as Brad fished in his pocket, pulling out a small bit of cloth. Without hesitation, he shoved it in her mouth as she gasped for air. Trying not to retch against the bitter taste of the cloth, she was powerless as Brad twisted her other hand behind her.
Molly winced as Steph quickly started wrapping the tights around her other wrist, her fingers shaking.
“Hurry up!” yelled Brad.
“Shut up!” Steph replied. “I’ve never tied anyone up before!”
After a quick minute, Steph straightened up, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Molly quickly tested her bonds. Maybe if Steph hadn’t ever tied somebody up before, she might not be that good at it. Then again, Molly had never been tied up before. She didn’t know what to do. It was like these events were just a really bad dream. One she couldn’t awake from.
Before she could do anything else, she felt herself be quickly lifted up and flung over Brad’s shoulder, lightness being replaced by dark as he moved into the night. All she could see was a mixture of Brad’s back and dark floor, before she heard a car boot open and found herself be slammed into it. The boot snapped shut with a click, leaving only a tiny red light to illuminate the space.
Molly lay there as she felt the car start up, breathing heavily, desperately trying not to have a panic attack. She felt tears spilling from her eyes as she looked up at the ceiling of the boot, despair overwhelming her. Who the hell were these people? Why the hell were they doing this to her?
She swallowed, trying to make herself think. Who they were was not important right now. The only thing that mattered was getting away as quickly as she could. And that meant fighting them.
Molly was not a fighter. She was not an aggressive person at all. If anything, she was overly nice. Her mother always told her that she needed to toughen up – that the world would walk all over her if she let it. But that was her mother, through and through. Always eager to prove she didn’t need anyone.
Molly wondered what her mother was doing right now. She’d give anything for her to be here.
Focus.
If Molly was going to fight these guys, she needed her hands. And that was proving to be a problem.
Molly rolled over onto her side, wriggling her wrists, trying to find any slack in the tights. The fact that Steph had never done this before gave her hope. But they just were not coming off.
She strained, pulled and twisted, desperately trying to free her hands. Her fact contorted as she struggled and she felt herself beginning to sweat. For at least ten minutes she continued to pathetically wiggle, moaning softly into the makeshift gag that wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Finally, after one more mammoth strain, she relaxed, heart hammering.
It was hopeless. The tights just would not come off, no matter what she did. She was tied up good by discarded clothes! Tied up so she couldn’t escape by a 16 year old who’d never done it before! Truly stuck.
How was that even possible?
Molly felt a feeling of despair deeper than any other she’d felt up to this point. She was utterly helpless. And these kids were going to do… god knows what? Why did they have her picture? What did they want???
She wouldn’t give up.
Her eyes cast around the boot she was confined in, looking for anything sharp that could maybe use to cut herself free. There was nothing. No tools, no sharp edges – just an empty boot. Well, empty except for her!
“Mrph!!”
She pulled some more, half-heartedly trying to see if her fingers could find any knots. One big one was just out of reach – she could feel it brush against hand. Close, but not close enough.
It was then she’d noticed that the car had stopped moving.
Taking a deep breath, tensing every muscle in her arms, every tendon, lending every bit of her strength down to her hands, she gave one final almighty pull, trying as hard as she could to pull at least one wrist free. She gave a straining cry of frustration as she poured all of her might into her hands, gritting her teeth against her gag. She had to get them out. She had to….
Her bindings were just not coming off. She was either going to have to cut them free, or someone was going to have to untie her. In short, she needed help. And who was going to help her now.
She cried softly as she heard soft boots crunch on gravel. And then the boot opened.