Abduction (9)
The road from Istanbul to Aleppo, Syria. 740 miles …
The next time Grace came round, rough hands dug into her underarms while another held her legs. She was being dragged out of the van, into the night air. Fucking hell, how long had she been out?
Her head throbbed so hard she couldn’t speak. The left side of her face felt like a brick had smacked it and her vision was still hazy. She could feel the swelling, smooth and sore. Dizzy and with practically no warning, she vomited.
Repulsed by her involuntary action the men dropped her onto the dusty ground, and Grace, unable to control her movement simply rolled onto her side. She lay dry heaving as her captors yelled amongst themselves, some words she did not know, lucidity in and out, language broken and jarring. Her vision flashed white spots, coherent then unclear. Too weak to resist, Special Agent Miller lay her head next to the pool of vomit and passed out again.
A partially bombed out building in Aleppo, Syria.
Stripped naked, ankles chained to a steel chair, it was no more than Grace expected, but the experience heightened both her fear and her humiliation, just as these bastards intended.
The men were dressed in black … para-military style. Grace knew enough to know that these guys were jihadists … organised, not just opportunity seeking terrorists. This made things much worse … politically motivated dissidents. This wasn’t about ransoms and posturing. They would use her captivity to ask the UK for the impossible, whatever that was.
Taliban, ISIS, Local Junta … whoever they were, her fate was in dangerous hands.
So far, they had kept their head coverings on in front of her. Whilst ever that was the case, she had a chance. Once she saw their faces, then her death warrant had been signed.
Grace swallowed hard as one of the men moved behind her whilst another approached her. With her hands still unbound she held them up before her, palms facing outwards in an attempt to ward him off. But the black clad body at her front simply brushed her aside and, reaching out, he ran his fingers over her shapely breasts, rounded and proud with the firmness of relative youth, before teasing the already prominent nipples into full erect stiffness.
The bound girl tried her hardest to suppress a moan but she couldn’t, and his continued ministrations caused her to squirm, her body twisting in the seat.
As her arms flailed the man behind her put down his gun and took a firm grip on Grace’s wrists.
His touch slowly slid down over her tight flat belly and onto the swell of her mound, before a thick finger slipped between her spread thighs and in between the soft folds going all the way to the second knuckle. He was pleasantly surprised by the tightness of the girl's cunt.
"Aaaaaahhh!" Grace gasped, arching her back, pushing out her breasts as her eyelashes fluttered.
"Where am I? Tell me where I am. What do you want?" The MI6 Agent gasped.
“In Syria … Aleppo to be precise.” His tone was eloquent.
Grace stared. Her fears confirmed. “Y … You’re Al Qaeda?” She failed to keep the trepidation from her voice.
“Taliban actually,” the man replied in well spoken English.
“Please, just tell me what you want.”
He laughed. “Well certainly not your name and rank, Special Agent Grace Miller of MI6, twenty-three years old, we know exactly who you are, and why you were in Istanbul, escaping from the Russians. We only intended to take the daughter of your MI6 leader, but now we have you as well …”
“Wait …” Grace interrupted him, “You have Sophia Moore?”
His smirk gave her all the answer she needed.
“You bastards, she’s just a child. Don’t you dare …”
Now the man laughed. “Don’t dare what huh, Grace Miller? Strip her, humiliate her, fuck her?”
“Please, please don’t hurt her.”
“She is our captive too and what happens to her depends upon her father, as it does for you also Special Agent Miller. As for her being a child, then that is not true. We would never take a child. Moore’s daughter is eighteen and old enough to endure whatever we are forced to do to her.”
Grace felt sick. But things only became worse when he thrust his finger all the way back into her tight pussy, while pressing his thumb hard up against her clitoris.
"Aaagghhhh!" the Special Agent gasped, involuntarily jerking her hips forward. "Please ... Just stop ... Unngghh!" She jerked again, as a second, then a third finger, joined the first, all three starting to move in and out of her pussy in a sawing motion, as her traitorous body began to naturally lubricate, easing his passage and heightening her involuntary stimulation.
"Noooo! Please ... stop!" Grace gasped, writhing as his piston like motion built up pace. "Aaaahhhh, fuckkkkkkkk!"
The man chuckled at the erotic sight, and squeezed the girl’s already heavily distended clitoris between his rough fingers, twisting viciously.
"Aaiiiieeee! Stopppppppp" Grace screeched, writhing in agony. When his actions ceased, the abused Agent hung her head in shame and humiliation, helpless to stop the merciless use of her body.
“Tie her wrists and we will leave her to think on things for a while.”
“You will get nothing from me,” Special Agent Miller shouted in eloquent tones.
The man sighed in exasperation, took a step backwards and looked into Grace’s pain-filled eyes. "Let us hope your boss, the young bitch’s father, agrees to what we ask of him in exchange for your
relatively undamaged return, otherwise …” he murmured, through the evil looking slit in his balaclava.
He chuckled at his final words. One way or another, the girls would never leave here alive, but he didn’t need to say that just yet.
To Be Continued …
