Free Extreme Submission: Stories of Sex on the Edge by Audra Morgan

 
Kidnapped
     
     
     
    I stepped out onto the wet street, looking both ways with a sense of uneasy anticipation.  It had rained as I browsed the gallery, with its intriguing combination of surrealist artwork and rusted metal sculptures.  I had stared at the painting near the rear stairwell until my eyes began to tear up.  The image of gnarled demons pulling two screaming men down into the pits of hell lingered in my mind.  I found it strangely terrifying, but the colors were so vivid that I couldn't look away. 
    A lthough I'd spent over twenty years wandering about the French Quarter, Royal Street seemed almost foreign to me as I slowly stepped from one rain puddle to the next.  The sky was deep grey, and thunder echoed softly in the distance.  I smiled to myself as a memory arose of being on this same street at fifteen, running through a rainstorm to shop for tarot cards and patchouli incense.  The memory seemed foreign to me now too.  It was another me, as if I was remembering a movie I'd seen, not something I'd actually experienced.  Shaking off those unnerving thoughts, I zipped up my jacket and glanced across the street in search of another interesting shop to peruse.
    Before I could take another step, everything went dark.  I realized a hood had been pulled over my head, and I felt hands on my shoulders, then on my collarbone, dragging me backwards, shoving me to the left, then tossing me into a vehicle.  "Don't move, and don't make a sound."  The voice was muffled by the thick cloth pulled tightly over my ears.  The car reeked of smoke, and I coughed and tugged at the hood.  "I said don't make a sound, Bitch!"  Suddenly I was face down on the seat, my hands yanked behind me and my wrists tied together roughly.  "Not another sound!"  My heart was pounding so hard that I thought I might tumble off the seat and onto the floor.  The car bouncing as it sped down the bumpy streets didn't help matters.  I tried to breathe, tried to stay calm, and tried like hell not to cough.
    A fter what felt like hours, the car lurched to a stop, and the front door opened and slammed shut again.  I heard two male voices, then the back door opened, and I was yanked out by the rope binding my wrists.  Two large hands pushed me forward and I stumbled along, trying to keep myself upright.  I had no idea where I was or where I was being lead.  My mind went momentarily blank as I felt the rain begin to come down again, soaking my hair through the hood and running down my arms and off my fingertips.  I attempted to focus on those raindrops instead of on the abject terror creeping up my spine.  I tripped over a threshold and realized we had entered a building; it was warm and had a stale aroma, like no one had used it in quite some time.  Although I regained my balance and continued walking, the hands kept pushing me forward, as if daring me to fall.  I was suddenly yanked back by my shoulder and shoved to the left, and my shoulder banged into what must have been a door frame as we entered another room.  The hands pushed me one more time then released me long enough to slam the door shut. 
    I heard whispers, then I was grabbed violently and pushed face down onto what felt like a roughly upholstered sofa.  "Keep your eyes closed, and don't move."  The hood was pulled off and quickly replaced with a blindfold.  It was tied so tightly it was like a vise on my head, and I began to feel dizzy.  Something cold and sharp was suddenly pressed threateningly against my throat.  A knife?  Scissors?  I braced myself and told myself not to scream.  I didn't want to be gagged on top of everything else that was happening to me.  I held my breath in anticipation of certain torture.  To my surprise, no blood was let; the blade sliced through the fabric of my shirt, then was dragged repeatedly through my hoodie...my favorite hoodie...until it must have been reduced to a pile of rags on the floor.   I heard one of the men