Chapter 1

Jody yawned and stretched out in her bed, then rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. Her gaze turned immediately to the window and she felt a slight surge of pleasure at the bright sunlight and the cloudless sky.

She had a game today, after all, and the last thing she wanted was for it to be called on account of rain.

She threw back the covers and swung her legs around and over the edge, then stood up. She walked across to the window and looked out again, just to make sure there wasn't a storm somewhere off in the distance. There wasn't.

"Right on," she said, turning away and trotting across the room to the door. She flung it open and trotted down the stairs, then into the kitchen.

"Hi," she said.

"Good morning," her mother smiled.

"You iron my uniform?"

"Sitting on the table."

"Thanks."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Uhm, I dunno," Sara said, pulling her blouse up and shaking it out.

"You have to eat something. You're too skinny."

"Oh right," Sara snorted.

"You are. You're tiny. You're all skin and bones."

"Hardly, mother."

"The only thing big about you is your boobs."

"Mother!"

"Well it's true."

"Look, I'll have a couple of pancakes, okay."

"That'll do."

Grumbling, Sara carried her blouse and skirt upstairs and into her room, then laid them out and went down the hall to the bathroom. She grabbed a big towel from the linen closet, then closed the bathroom door and locked it.

After hanging up the towel she turned and looked at herself briefly in the mirror, eyeing her loose, shoulder length blonde hair, reasonably pretty face and...

She reached down to the hem of her striped blue nightshirt and gripped it cross-handed, then, as sexily as she could, she peeled it up her body and over her head, then hung it on a hook. Naked, she looked at herself again.

She had a tiny waist, but her hips were enormous... well, maybe not enormous, but they were wide. She turned and looked at her behind in the mirror. It wasn't bad, really, quite round and firm.

She faced the mirror again and stood straight, pushing her chest out. Funny, she thought, they did look rather big now. When she had clothes on they seemed pretty normal, well, noticeable, maybe, but not real big. Now, naked, they seemed somehow too large for her body. Maybe it was because of her tiny waist.

Sara was something of an athlete, and her body looked trim and firm, the musculature of her chest and belly clearly showing when she pushed her chest out. Her thighs were strong, her legs strong and well-proportioned, nicely contoured all the way down to her ankles.

She was no more a narcissist than any other girl her age, which wasn't saying much, but enjoyed the sight of herself naked. It was kind of a new body, after all, only a few years old. She was well aware of how attractive she was to boys, how they lusted after her, longed to get their hands on her.

That kind of turned her on. It wasn't just boys any more either. Men, too were glancing at her with lust and interest when she moved past now. She'd seen the pictures in the mens' magazines, and knew she had a body just as good as those women, knew that men looked at her just like they did them.

She knew... vaguely... what was on their minds. She was a virgin, but knew most of the details involved in sex. she hadn't gone all that far with guys yet, mostly because she was worried about her reputation, and kind of scared and disgusted at the idea of a guy putting his... thing... down there.

It was exciting, too, though, and she had many fantasies where she and some gorgeous guy writhed naked in front of a fireplace, or on a beach, or in a field of grass...

But so far she hadn't dared. The furthest she'd gone was when Joey Morgan had gotten her top open in his car one time and had sucked and chewed on her nipples before she'd managed to draw together enough strength to push him off and close her shirt.

Every time she thought of that her heart gave a little lurch at the pleasure and the intensity of the pleasure that had rippled through her young, adolescent body.

But she'd never dared repeat it, afraid of the stories, afraid of a reputation, and afraid of herself, of her own weakness.

She cupped her breasts and then slid her fingers onto her nipples, pinching them just a bit, and pulling them outwards. They were small and bright pink, but she remembered how hard and sensitive and long they'd gotten when Joey had sucked.

She shook her head in annoyance and turned, stepping to the bathtub. She turned on the water, got in, and began to soap herself up.

Her thoughts turned to the game that day as she casually ran her hands over her soapy young flesh. She was playing right wing on the school's field hockey team, and anticipated a win today, since St. Margarite's was a weaker team than St. Mary's, her school.

She dried herself in the towel, then blow dried her hair so it was thick and full and fluffy, with just the right amount of bangs. That took awhile, and she didn't really have time for breakfast. Her mother made her eat it anyway.

She raced to the corner just in time to catch the bus. It wasn't a school bus, just a regular city one, and more than a few of the men eyed her with less than paternal thoughts as the pretty blonde girl in the blue jacket and tartan skirt made her way down the aisle

She ignored them, mostly, though she was aware of some looking a bit longer than was polite. She sat in the back, her legs chastely crossed, and looked out the window as the bus lurched along. She pulled her math book out of her gym bag and buried her nose in it, ignoring the world for the half hour ride to school.

The world, however, did not ignore her. It was a boring ride, and every one of the men in back let his eyes flicker across to the pretty girl from time to time. Some merely exercised their eyes, scanning her nice legs and soft, golden hair, enjoying her as they would a pretty picture.

A few let graphic daydreams slide over their minds, their eyes trying desperately to slide up under the tartan skirt as they imagined her on all fours, ass in the air, or on her back with her knees shoved back against her tits.

And then there was one who's mind was far more calculating. He never stared, but his eyes seldom left the girl. He assessed her age, her likely measurements, whether the blonde hair was real (He was sure it was), whether she were a virgin (probably, he guessed), and more importantly for Sara, whether she was worth the careful effort of following, and grabbing.

He watched her eyes when they came up from the book and looked out the window, they were a very bright blue, and seemed almost unnaturally wide as she looked upwards. She had a small, pert nose, a sweet mouth with full, pouting lips, and a narrow, elfin chin.

Very pretty. Lovely, in fact, with a certain special... something, a certain character that he found quite appealing. She was of an age for training, certainly. His only problem lay in her schoolgirl uniform. It covered and shaded too much. He couldn't be sure of her figure. Only the best would do.

She appeared to have good legs, from what he could see, but the chest was uncertain. He studied her as the bus moved, then studied more carefully as she put her book away and stood up. His eyes narrowed as he saw the jacket held out by her chest.

Perhaps. Yes, perhaps.

He rose and got off behind her, staying well behind as she walked down a couple of blocks amongst a group of similarly clad teenagers. They turned into a large gray stone structure, St Mary's Catholic High School, it said on a sign.

He nodded his head and turned away.

"Karen! Over here!" Sara yelled, slapping her stick on the grass. The ball came skidding across the grass and she raced for it, beating a St. Margarite's girl and elbowing her aside as she moved in on goal.

She saw the goalie running forward to block her off, stickhandled to the right, swung, then feinted left and backhanded the ball past her and into the net.

There were cheers amongst her team and she jumped up and down in glee, clutching Karen and Susan as they yelled in victory. They trotted back, laughing and joking as the unhappy St. Margarite's girls glumly followed.

"Sara."

She turned at the tap on the shoulder to see Amy Simpson, a small, black haired girl.

"You're off," she said, thumbing towards the sidelines.

Sara glared indignantly towards the coach, then sighed and trotted off.

"Why'd you pull me off?" she demanded.

"There's only ten minutes left, Sara, and we're up by three."

"So?"

"So I want to see how Simpson plays."

"She plays lousy."

"Don't be snotty. Sit down and rest."

Sara mumbled to herself, bur didn't dare say anything out loud. Coach had a quick hand, and she'd felt it on the side of her head often enough to know better than to mouth off.

"Nice goal," Toni said.

"You see how I decked her?" Sara grinned.

"Yeah, dumb cow."

"They're all losers."

"Yeah."

"Hey, are you going to the mall after school?" Tricia asked.

"I don't know. I got homework in Science." Sara sighed.

"I hate science."

"Who doesn't?"

None of them noted the van across the street, and if they had would not have suspected there was a high powered spotting scope in the back trained on them, trained specifically on Sara. The scope was powerful enough that her face filled the entire field of view.

When it panned down, the watched had a close-up of her chest, then her crotch. The shorts and t-shirt she wore left little doubt about her figure, and the watcher doubted strongly she'd bothered to stuff her bra before a game, especially with other girls watching.

She turned and he caught her chest in profile, humming to himself, then caught her ass once again, an ass that he guessed most be incredibly firm and round from the way it pushed out behind her like it did.

The game ended, and St. Mary's senior girls' field hockey team headed back to the school in victory, while the visitors moved dejectedly to their bus. the locker room soon filled with laughing, happy girls in various states of undress.

Sara stripped off her T-shirt without a second though, then slid her shorts down and stepped out of her running shoes and socks. She felt a slight arousal as she slid her bra off and skimmed down her panties. As always, being naked around others turned her on just a little.

True, they were only girls, and they were naked too, but it still felt odd and vaguely erotic to be moving around in semi-public utterly naked. The other girls all felt the same way, though nobody mentioned it, and nobody thought much about it.

They all moved about their business, mostly ignoring each other, trying not to look anywhere they shouldn't, lest someone start rumors. All of them felt the little tingling between their legs, though.

Sara moved into the shower room, where at least a dozen girls stood washing, and moved under an empty showerhead. She turned on the water and soaked herself, then began to soap up.

She was not thinking of how luscious her body was, or about how soft and silky her skin felt as her hands moved over her soapy flesh. She noted, casually enough, the other girls in sight, and what they looked like, almost routinely comparing herself to them.

Tori's breasts were bigger, but looked saggy. Susan had small, conical ones. Angie was almost flat chested. Kate had nice ones but not as good as hers.

That was part of being a girl, comparing oneself to others, and she did it routinely, without really even thinking about it. Her breasts, she thought, were just about the best. Ashley Fisher's ass was a bit better, and she thought maybe Cory O'Neil had better legs. Rut then she was almost six feet, and her legs were really long.

Serene in her own looks she continued soaping up, thinking about whether she could do her Science homework later and still go to the mall.

Tomorrow she did volunteer work at the hospital, so couldn't go to the mall then, and the next day she had a date with Mark Hunter.

He was kind of dreamy looking, and had a nice car, and half the girls at school made goo goo eyes over him. Sara had been much more dignified, playing a kind of, who cares game, and it had worked.

She rinsed the soap off, then turned off the water and went to the wall, grabbing her towel. She toweled off quickly, then wrapped it around her soaking hair as she walked naked out of the shower room.

Other girls were similarly clad, so there was nothing to be embarrassed about. She wasn't consciously showing off, though she didn't mind that other girls would see her like this and be a little envious. Whenever she caught a girl eyeing her body, out of the comer of her eyes, she felt a little shivery, a little naughty.

She dressed and finished drying her hair, then headed off to class on what she thought of as another routine day.

He followed the girl with his eyes as she walked to the bus stop. There were too many others around to grab her here, but he was patient. If an opportunity arose, he'd make his move. Otherwise he'd wait, study, and plan.

He followed them to the bus, then followed the bus after it picked her up. Half an hour later he saw her get off. She turned down a side street and he picked up speed, the van passing her. He slowed, looking for a likely place, somewhere he could do a quick grab, but then she turned another corner behind him.

He cursed and turned around, getting to the corner just in time to see her walk up the driveway of a large tudor style house. She went to the door, produced a key, then unlocked it and let herself in. He frowned unhappily, wondering if she were alone there.

He studied the terrain around her. Tall hedges bordered her home's lawn on either side, so only the people directly across the street would see anything unusual. This was quite good. He drove up and parked beside the hedge, then eyed the house with binoculars.

He saw no car, but the garage door was closed. Did he dare sneak up to the house in broad daylight and check? Better not. The risk was too high. He studied the surrounding area one more time, then started the engine, preparing to back off, maybe get the girl on her way to school tomorrow morning.

Then she appeared at the door. He couldn't believe it. She turned her back and brought out the key again, and he hurriedly got out of the driver's seat and slid the side door of the van open. He jumped out and dropped lightly onto the sidewalk, his hand going to his pocket.

He pulled out a plastic bag, opened it, and then discarded it, holding the rag in his gloved hand. It had been previously soaked in chloroform, and would make short work of any resistance the girl put up.

He watched her covertly as she walked down the driveway. She was clad in jeans and a red, button down blouse now, and didn't appear to even notice him. He turned his back to her a bit more, judging the timing expertly.

Suddenly, as she passed, he whirled around, his hand jamming the rag into her face as his other arm slid around her and crushed her against him. She gave a startled yelp into the rag, then started to struggle as he carried her to the van. It was only a couple of steps, and by the time he reached it she was limp.

He tossed her body in and slid the door closed, then threw the rag away and got in the driver's door. He looked around anxiously, but nobody seemed to have seen anything. His heart racing, he started the engine and drove off, Sara Miller unconscious in the back.

Sara woke slowly. She felt a little sick, and very dizzy and confused. At first she didn't know why, or remember anything. She was a little more confused that her legs and arms didn't seem to be moving properly, but not alarmed about it.

Then real awareness returned, and she blinked her eyes against blindness. There was something over her eyes, she realized, and something holding her wrists down at her sides. Her ankles were also bound, and wouldn't move an inch.

Fear blasted into her, raw, hot, gut wrenching. She remembered the man, then, the man and his rag jammed into her face, the medicinal smell, the numbness in her arms and legs, then the blurred vision.

Where was she? What had happened? Hu... hullo?" she gasped.

Nothing.

She pulled more determinedly but her wrists and ankles were held tight. Where was she? What was he going to do her?

She had a pretty good idea about the latter. She'd been grabbed by some kind of nasty, evil pervert, and he was going to... to... to rape her!

She had to get away! Again she struggled desperately, but her wrists and ankles stayed where they were. She thought about screaming. In fact, she was on the verge of screaming in sheer, raw terror, but was afraid the only one who would hear would be... him.

She was still wearing all her clothes. Had he raped her and then dressed her again? She didn't feel anything different down there. She'd heard that Angela Cooper had gotten drunk at a party and passed out, and that Phil Bradshaw and Bill Arron had fucked her. Supposedly she hadn't even known about it until a few days later when they'd started bragging.

She trembled in fear, her head moving from side to side, trying to see something... anything, but there was only total blackness. Her heart was racing, and she was starting to sweat. What would he do to her? What would it be like? Would he hurt her? Would he... kill her?

She pulled again and again and again but couldn't free her arms and legs. She gave up, panting wearily and laying her head back on the... whatever.

She was on some kind of bed, she thought. It was padded, anyway, even if there was no pillow. She listened, but heard no sounds. She smelled damp air.

A noise! Her heart went into overdrive as she heard the sound of a heavy wooden door opening, then closing. She stared around her desperately, wondering where he was.

"Hello."

She let out a short scream, her head tilting back as she looked up towards the voice.

"How do you feel?"

"Wh... where am I?" she gulped.

"Home."

"M... my home?"

"Your new home."

She felt a blast of terror at that.

"Feeling better?"

"Y... yes."

"Good."

"Please... untie me," she begged.

"They're straps."

"Could you... could you let me up?" she gulped.

"I could... if I wanted to."

"What... what are you going to do to me?"

"Anything I want," he said.

She trembled, and bit back another scream. Her heart was racing so fast that she thought she'd have a heart attack.

She felt hands, fingers down at her ankles, and felt the... straps opened. Her legs were free!

But a second later she felt something else, something leathery, wrapped around first one ankle, then the other.

"Wh... what are you doing?" she gulped.

"Don't ask questions," he said.

She felt his fingers at her right wrist. The strap was pulled loose, then another leather something was wrapped tightly around her wrist. He unstrapped her other hand, and again wrapped a leather something around it, then, his hands tightly on her wrists, he pulled her into a sitting position.

"Swing your legs to your right," he ordered.

Still terrified, she obeyed, and felt them drop over the edge of the... bed. Her feet touched the floor.

"Now you're going to stand, and go where I lead you. Understand?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice.

A thought slipped into her mind. Maybe he had just kidnapped her for money. Maybe he thought her parents were rich or something, and would let her go when he found out they weren't.

Or maybe he'd kill her.

He pulled on her wrists and she slid off the bed. She tried to stand but her legs were surprisingly rubbery and weak, and if hadn't been for his tight grip she would have fallen. He lifted her hands up high and pulled her forward, and she shuffled awkwardly along until he stopped.

He raised her hands even higher, and then took his hands away. She swung her arms a little, but they were caught on something up there, like a rope or something. She turned her head from side to side fearfully, wondering what he was doing.

She gasped as she felt his fingers in her hair.

"Your hair is very soft," he said.

She swallowed nervously, saying nothing.

"What's your name?"

"C.c.Sara," she gulped.

"Sara. That's a lovely name," he said, sliding his hand down along her cheek, stroking her skin.

Her heart beat louder.

"Sara?"

"Wh... what?"

"I want you to kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me."

"Bu... but... Please don't!"

"I want you to kiss me."

"I... I can't," she whimpered.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asked, sliding his hand around behind her head, his fingers tightening.

"Yes!" she squeaked.

"Say it."

"Sa... say what?"

"Say you're going to be a good girl."

"I... I... I'm going to be a good girl," she gulped.

"Master. Say master."

"Please, she whimpered.

He jerked her hair back and she gasped in pain.

"Say it, you slut!" he hissed.

"Master! Master! I'll be a good girl, Master!" she cried.

His grip loosened, but her chest heaved as she gulped in air.

"Do you want me to take off your blindfold, Sara?"

"Y... yes," she whimpered.

She felt his hands at the blindfold, felt it tugged up and off, and blinked her eyes rapidly as she looked up at him. She gasped and averted her eyes as he smiled smugly.

He was a big man, with a thick chest, about her father's age. He wore heavy black boots and a sleeveless leather jacket. Aside from that all he had on was a kind of leather G-string. He stepped forward as she turned her head to the side, his hands going to her head, squeezing it and turning it to face him.

He bent and his lips slid onto hers, his tongue stabbing through and into her mouth. She gave a muffled, choked gasp of terror and embarrassment, but could do nothing to resist him, and didn't dare try. His tongue was squirming around in her mouth as his lips bruised hers, and she fought down terror as she anticipated her imminent rape.

He pulled his lips back and smiled grimly. "I said kiss me," he hissed, his eyes turning angry. He jammed his mouth in against hers again and she kissed back fearfully, sliding her tongue up against his and sliding her lips over his.

He pulled back, still smiling, though his eyes were cold.

"Sara, tell me about the first time a man fucked you."

"Please let me go!" she begged. He glared. "I thought you said you'd be a good girl."

"I... I did but... "

"Then do as you're told!" he screamed.

She screamed in fear and tried to pull back, but couldn't. He snarled into her face, then stepped back. "Tell me about the first guy who fucked your dirty cunt!"

"I... I... I... never... I didn't... I mean... I haven't... done it... sir."

"Master!" he screamed, nearly making her heart explode.

"Master! Master! I didn't do it, Master! I haven't done it, master!"

"You mean you're a virgin?" he said, smiling pleasantly.

"Ye... ye... yes," she squeaked.

"Why you filthy bitch," he glared. "You walk around in your tight pants, showing off your ass and wagging your tits around, and you don't let anybody shove their cocks into you!? You filthy little cocktease! I'm going to punish you for that!"

"But... but I... I... "

"Shut up!"

He stared silently at the trembling, terrified girl, revelling in her fear. His lips curled in a nasty smile.

"How old are you, bitch?"

"S... S... sixteen," she gasped.

"Sixteen. A good age. A woman's body with a girl's mind." He nodded his head thoughtfully. "I can train you."

"T... train me?"

His fingers slid up around her face and his hands enclosed it, then he kissed her. He eased back, his hands sliding down her cheeks and onto her throat, then down over her shoulders and over her breasts. He squeezed them gently, smiling as he felt her heart fluttering like a little bird.

He unbuttoned the top button slowly, teasingly, then shifted his fingers to the next one, then the next, saying nothing as she trembled and shook.

"Please," she whimpered. "P... P... please don't!"

His hand drew back and he slapped her face hard, throwing it to one side. She cried out in pain and shocked fear as he continued to undo the buttons down her shirt. "I have told you that you must say master whenever you speak. Do not forget again."

He tugged the red shirt out of her pants and gazed in at her firm, tight belly and the only partially clad breasts. Then he walked over to a nearby table and picked up a pair of heavy scissors. He came back to her and carefully cut her shirt off her arms, then tossed the ragged remnants onto the floor.

Terrified and embarrassed, Sara looked away, seeing the small cot in the corner, the stone floor under her and the stone walls around her. There was no window. The door was a thick, heavy wooden one. There was a big, rough table in one corner, a dresser next to it, and some strange looking wooden things scattered around, none of which she recognized, but all of which looked frightening.

She saw that her wrists were encased in leather restraints, and the restraints were locked to chains that hung down from the ceiling. She gasped, her eyes returning to the man as his hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them.

"You have lovely breasts, Sara," he said. "I will enjoy sliding my tongue over them."

Sara thought her head would explode with the humiliation and terror within her as the man stroked and fondled her breasts through her bra. Then he slid the heavy scissors over the straps, neatly snipping the elastics and cutting the bra apart. It dropped away and her breasts were utterly bare.

Never had she been so mortified, or so frightened, as the man stood there only a foot away and feasted his eyes on her body. She sniffled, then began weeping as his hands stroked and cupped her breasts, then began squeezing and kneading them.

He bent and began to lick her nipples as she sobbed in misery and hopelessness. His tongue rasped hungrily against her round pink tit buds, and then his lips closed around them as he began to suck. He nipped and gnawed with his teeth, pinching and chewing her sensitive nipples and tit meat, ignoring her weeping as his hands mauled her firm, young tit-balls.

His hands stroked up and down her belly and over her sides and back, but his lips never strayed from her breasts and nipples as he licked and lapped and sucked them for long minutes.

Finally he pulled his head up and his arms went around her, cupping her ass through her jeans. He smiled down nastily, then licked the tears along her cheeks before sliding his lips over hers again. He kissed her roughly, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, but she was too miserable and hopeless to respond.

He pulled back and glared. "I thought you said you'd be a good girl," he glared. "Maybe you need to be punished, hmmm?"

"N... n... nnnoooo... I... I'll be g... good," she whimpered.

He kissed her again and she made an effort to kiss back as his lips crushed hers and his hands squeezed and fondled her naked breasts. In the midst of the kiss she felt his hands sliding down her belly and unbuckling her belt. Her heart rate blasted higher as she felt it undone, then felt the catch pop loose.

He smiled at her as he stepped back, then slowly, tauntingly, lowered her zipper. He smiled and shoved the jeans down, baring her pink cotton bikini panties. He shoved the jeans down around her ankles, then reached down and yanked them loose.

Of course that also yanked her legs out from under her, and she gasped as she swung freely by the wrists before her feet found the floor again. Her shoes had been popped loose, and since she wore no socks she was no in bare feet, the stone cold beneath them.

He smiled, the nastiest smile she'd seen on anyone, and gripped her panties, then ripped them free. Sara cringed and closed her eyes in mortification as her body was laid utterly bare before him. She trembled as his hands slid over her belly, one going up to fondle her breasts, the other...

She moaned and started to weep again as he cupped her pussy mound and squeezed it tightly.

"Nice little pussy," he snickered. "G0000od pussy,"

"Tell me how much you want my cock, Sara. Tell me how much you want me to fuck you."

"Nooo," she whimpered.

"Don't disobey me, you whore!" he screamed into her face.

She screamed in fear and cringed back as he glared angrily at her.

"So you don't want me to fuck you, is that it?"

"I... I... I'm a v... v... virgin," she whimpered.

"Okay then, I won't fuck your cherry away until you beg for it. How's that sound?" he leered.

He moved away behind her and then came back a moment later carrying, of all things, a pair of black shoes. They were extremely high stiletto heeled shoes which she'd never have worn willingly.

"Your feet must be cold on the floor, Sara," he hissed. "Here's some shoes for you to wear."

He bent and lifted one of her feet, forcing the shoe onto it. It was a bit loose, but he didn't seem to care. He lifted her other foot and put the other shoe onto that one.

He moved away again, and then returned with some kind of black wooden rod. It was a couple of feet wide, and he bent down again and attached the rings in her ankle restraints to either end of the rod. She realized immediately that she couldn't close her legs now, and again her terror rose.

He moved behind her again, then once more returned, but didn't come around in front. She turned around as his hand stroked her ass, and gasped as she saw what was in his hand.

"You like this, slut?" he smiled. "Ever seen a riding crop before? It's used on stubborn ANIMALS that don't know THEIR PLACE!!"

She whimpered and her heart pounded as her blood raced. He raised the crop as his other hand slid over her ass lovingly. "Such a pity to mark up this nice round little ass," He smiled. "But then you have to learn YOUR PLACE!"