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A Tape
Part Three
By Razor7826 (Copyright 2008)
My daughter’s plight lingered over me constantly that entire week, save from the brief moments of self-pleasure that granted me the escape I needed. I had nobody to turn to; no true friends or family to guide me through the darkness.
I was alone.
A package sat on my doorstep the following Tuesday. No address. Just a tiny little nametag in cute cursive that simply read “Janine.” I brought it inside and placed it on the kitchen table.
The mere presence of the box scared me. Something had changed, and all I could think about were the countless movies I’d seen where the kidnappers start sending body parts. In my heart I prayed, but with my body I hid all signs of terror. The cameras were watching, and I couldn’t let them see my fear.
I did not forget my obligations. I removed the tag and opened the box. Inside, atop the packing material, was a tape. And beneath it, a dildo.
There was no doubt in my mind what they would ask of me, and in a sick and twisted way, it turned me on. I knew what I would be forced to watch.
The tape flickered on into a black screen. It held me in suspense, a sense of dread captivating my soul and keeping me from turning away. It flickered again, and revealed my daughter’s newest horror.
Monica was being led around on all fours through non-descript corridors of rusted metal and peeling paint. It was my first glimpse into the lair of the monsters that took and destroyed my daughter. A red collar encircled her neck. Her hair draped across her back and shoulders, no longer in the clean pigtails that she wore for most of her life.
“Hurry up, bitch,” taunted the man that tugged on the red and black leash that connected to her collar. “You really need to learn to pick up the pace. Mom and Dad won’t be happy if you don’t learn how to walk like that.”
Mom and Dad? The circumstances behind Monica’s abduction were getting stranger. This was a new man leading her around on leash, and he apparently answered to his parents.
A family had chosen to wage war on my own. Why? Why would somebody do that and commit countless sins along the way?
My laptop blinked.
Use it.
I knew what they meant. I looked from the monitor, to the TV, to the pink dildo I held in my hand. It had to be done. I unzipped my skirt and slid down my panties, exposing my pussy to the open air.
On screen, Monica had reached the end of the dirty corridor. Her tormentor pushed the door open, and the tape switched to the perspective of another camera.
This one showed a much larger room than either of the previous videos had shown. Not only was it much better lit than the others, but it was also better furnished. A king-sized bed with full linings, a wide table, dressers, and paintings that dangled from the wall.
A man and a woman sat at the edge of the bed. The man had his arm wrapped around the woman. I recognized him as the man from the previous video. However, the woman was somebody new. Her hair looked to be almost pure black, which contrasted bizarrely with her pale white skin and dark red lipstick. She had the aura of a goth, but her attire looked far too expensive and classy for the clique.
“Is that her?” the woman asked.
“It sure is. Isn’t she cute?”
“No, she isn’t. I see a revolting little worm that deserves everything that is coming to her.”
The masked man laughed. “Come on,” he said before the sound cut out of the video. “No need to be so harsh.”
“Hey, this is all for,” the woman answered before her voice dropped out, too. I could tell that it was sound editing; the kidnappers did not want me to hear names. Did they think I was going to tell the police?
I would never betray my daughter like that. Everything was for her.
“I can’t believe you have gotten around to using her yet,” he said. He held the woman’s hand in his own, drawing my attention to their wedding rings. “She should be more important to you than me.”
The woman turned away from her husband. “I know, I know. But, just seeing her makes me sad, knowing why she’s here.”
“She’s here to be used.”
“That isn’t the reason why.”
“Trust me, your opinion will change once you get a test drive.” He turned to the masked man and patted the bed. “Come on, bring her over here.”
Their discussion shed little light on their reasons for abducting and raping Monica. Was she targeted specifically, or was it a sick game? Why her? Why me?
I wanted to avert my eyes to the events that unfolded once Monica was on the bed, but I knew and accepted their rules. I would have to watch. On all fours, her mouth and bottom were perfectly exposed for use from the two monsters.
Why was Monica so compliant? Why was she going with their movements and sucking on his cock? Her mouth was unrestrained. Any moment she could have bitten it clean off. But, she didn’t. My innocent little girl sucked on the dick that filled her mouth and thrust her hips to get the most out of her rapists. Slight moans escaped her vocal chords, but I could not tell if they were of pleasure or pain.
The computer beeped.
Do it.
I had no choice. I steadied the dildo and pushed it up against my pussy. I was already wet, but I hadn’t noticed it until that moment. Had I already descended so far to be turned on by the site of sex, no matter how cruel the circumstances? I pressed it in, eliciting a slight moan.
Monica’s tits swayed back and forth beneath her chest. She was pumped from both ends and showed no signs of resistance.
For a brief moment, I imagined that I was her. Something that men actually wanted, something they would pleasure. It was a disgusting thought, but I couldn’t help but imagine it as I pushed I slid the dildo in and out. How long had it been since I last used one? I couldn’t remember, but I apparently retained my former skills. It was over a decade since my last cock of any kind and I was absolutely craving for something like it. I pushed in harder and faster, rotating my grip to prod every inch of my insides.
On screen, the woman joined in. She leaned onto Monica, reached around her body and pinched her nipples between her nails. Monica moaned sharply, drawing a slight smile from the woman. She must be some sort of sadist—nothing else could explain the growing look of glee as she pinched, squeezed, and kneaded my daughter’s tits and nipples. I immediately disliked her. The others, while cruel, at least drew physical pleasure from their violations.
The entire time, they made sure to not block Monica from the camera site. The show was for me, after all.
Soon, I too was moaning out loud. I grabbed the dildo tighter and pushed it everywhere with deeper, penetrating force. Within a minute of the men dumping their loads inside my Monica, I too was on the verge of cumming.
Whiteness overtook my mind. My body jerked, and I could feel my juices spraying out, hitting my thighs and soaking the skirt and couch beneath them.
The masked torturer turned to the camera and waved. He grabbed a newspaper from the table and brought it over to the ceiling mounted camera.
I didn’t understand the meaning of until I took a closer look at the numbers in the upper right hand corner. It was dated two weeks ago, only a week after my daughter had been abducted. The implications flooded my mind all at once. First, that I had no recent proof that she was still alive and intact. Second, that the blank and vacant stare was the result of only a week of captivity. How far had things gotten in the past two weeks?
Would Monica even make it through her crisis sane?
The tape ended, and I turned my attention to the phone. I stared and waited for hours, but nothing happened. No voice to haunt me, to mock me, to let me know that daughter was still alive.
Dread returned. A weeks-old video and no word from the kidnappers? What had gone wrong?
I returned to my computer and replied to the most recent email.
Address not found. The origin was forged. There was no way for me to get back in contact with them.
What did I do wrong? Why did they not contact me? Was she… dead?
I collapsed to my knees and cried.
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Weeks passed without word. The police kept me updated on their fruitless investigation. There were no leads at all. All they could tell me were the circumstance of her disappearance; one night, as she walked home from class, she just disappeared into the darkness. They could barely think of a reason, though they brought up three ideas. That she had run away, that she had drowned in the river near to campus, or that she was abducted. They eagerly pushed the first idea, probably because they knew it would be the least traumatic.
I knew the truth, but I could say nothing. For all the torture visited upon my Monica and me, I was forbidden from speaking out, from telling anyone of my plight. I was truly alone for the first time in my life.
My only solace rested in that disgusting phallus. It was thick, rigid, and heavy. I detested the role it played in my torture and the sinister story that led to its arrival, but I had nobody and nothing else to turn to.
I used it. Everyday and every night, I used that accursed plastic to pleasure myself, for it was the only thing that could take my mind off of the hopelessness that had befallen the lives of my daughter and me. I often cried while doing so, but the pleasure soothed my damaged soul.
It was shameful, but I couldn’t stop.
A full month passed since that last tape. Never before had I missed her so much. She was everything to me since Robert died, but I had just about given up hope.
The phone rang.
“Hello, Janine,” said the familiar voice.
“Please, please, please!” I yelled into the phone. “Please tell me she’s okay.”
The raspy voice on the end of the line laughed. “We’ll let you see her, if you want.”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll do anything for her.”
“Even if it meant giving up everything?”
I needn’t hesitate. “Yes, I’d give my life to see her again.”
“Tomorrow at four in the morning. Be ready and waiting by your phone for further instructions.”
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