Cathy thinks there must be three of them, the two ski masked ones and a driver. She'd been looking down, fumbling in her purse for her keys when the bigger one had suddenly stood up out of the shadows, punched her in the solar plexus and shoved her into this van. She'd had only a confused second or two to see before the second ski masked one had rolled a black cloth hoodwink down over face and yanked and tied the drawstring tight under her chin. Then, as she'd fought for the smallest gulp of air and blindly struggled against too many hands, she'd been quickly and efficiently hogtied. She has seen no faces, no identifying marks, nothing.

As stars swim before her hoodwinked eyes, she yanks again at her pinioned arms, feeling the twin rope nooses tighten around her wrists, the strong silken rope cutting into her shoulders but not giving her the least slack with which to work. She cannot fight, she cannot flee, she cannot scream, she cannot see, she can only feel her total helplessness, feel her complete vulnerability, feel her femaleness.

She kicks her feet against the nooses around her ankles, wondering at the simplicity of her bondage. She has been hogtied with two, four-foot lengths of silken rope, each with slip nooses bent into both its ends. As soon as they'd had her hoodwinked she'd felt the bite of the first noose around her right wrist, the wrench of her arm being drawn up behind her back and fixed in place with a turn over her left shoulder. Then, as if in a dream, she'd felt the short rope being drawn out through her left arm pit, across her back, in under her right arm and up over her shoulder to noose her left wrist up across its mate, painfully high in the middle of her back.

The nooses on her kicking ankles had come next, first one, then the other, the connecting rope having been wrapped twice around her crossed wrists so that she is left tightly hogtied and totally helpless. The worst part, she realizes, is that with her ankles individually noosed they can easily spread her legs if they wish. Suddenly, she is reminded of the stirrups at the doctor's office and how strangely exciting it had felt the time he'd taped her ankles to them prior to doing a pelvic exam.

By the time she is again able to draw breath back into her aching lungs she knows it is probably too late for screaming. From the sound of the engine and the way the van is rocking she knows that they are out of the parking ramp and speeding down a city street, the van's stereo blasting Mick Jagger's lack of satisfaction so loud that her ears are ringing. She tries anyway but stops when she feels someone's hand covering her cloth covered mouth and a woman's contralto voice saying, "If you insist on screaming, Cathy, we'll gag you so tight you won't be able to make a sound."

Cathy shakes her head and resolves to stay quiet, terrified of the idea of a gag. She wonders how these people know her name. She doesn't recognize their voices or anything about them. The fact that they know who she is does not comfort her. It might mean that someone has sent these strangers after her. She wonders if they intend to hold her for ransom or is it even worse than that. She tries to think of anyone who would pay such a ransom and can come up with no one, certainly not Roger, her slime-ball ex husband.

Roger might pay to have her killed and disposed of but he would never pay to get her released. Perhaps they think my boss; the lecherous Mr. Henry will pay to get me back? She thinks in desperation, trying to find some ray of hope. Perhaps he of the roaming eye and the touchy-feely hands will pay to get me released. She thinks, knowing that it will be a cold day in hell before Mr. Henry parts with actual cash for any woman's sake, however perky her body might be.

After a few seconds the music is turned down to a more normal level and a moment after that she feels strong hands slipping under her body to squeeze her big breasts. "That's better, Cathy, you are our prisoner and we will do as we please with you, do you understand?" The man says into her buzzing ear, his voice a deep baritone.

Cathy nods understanding, feeling the rough hands moving down under her body and into the waistband of her slacks. Trying to clench her thighs together does little to protect her sex because of the generous width of her hipbones. She gasps as he touches her there, his hard finger slipping between her shaved labia and into her vulva. She is surprised and horrified to find herself wet and swollen, her clitoris already supersensitive and hard as a diamond.

As the van motors through the hot Southern California afternoon she is rolled over onto her back and held in position by hands on her shoulders.

She feels her business suit being roughly ripped open down the front, her bra being shoved up out of the way. The air is cold against her sweaty skin but hot hands and a pair of nibbling, sucking lips come and do things that seem to make her sweat all the more. She feels her slacks and panties being yanked down, exposing her sex in all its swollen readiness. She feels her knees being pried apart by strong hands and suddenly there comes a buzzing sound followed by a shockingly large, grease coated something being shoved deep into her vagina. It shocks her that her body is so ready to receive it, accepting the huge phallus without the least discomfort. It is vibrating like a jackhammer and soon it is resting against her G spot in a way that she knows she cannot and will not long withstand.

Despite the man's warning she screams out loud when he lets a toothy clamp close down on her erect clit. Immediately she feels a bulk being shoved into her jersey covered mouth and soon her screaming is reduced to a throaty humming probably not audible outside the carpet-lined van. She struggles against her bondage, gaining nothing but unable to stop herself. She tries to clench down and squirt the dildo out of her sheath only to find that it is closely attached to the clamp. She is forced to relax her vaginal muscles and let it slide back in, its constantly vibrating bulk making her grow hotter with each passing second.

The person who has been holding her shoulders down bends over and begins suckling her nipples again as the other one massages her dildo stuffed pussy, his fingers pinching her outer labia tight around the exposed stub of the vibrating phallus. After a short time she begins to cum, her hips thrusting, her body convulsing, her gag blocked screams unheard outside the speeding van.

After a long while a hot and confused darkness descends, snuffing consciousness like a capped candle.

When she comes swimming back up into awareness she finds her tormentors are not yet done with her. Still in the jersey hoodwink and rope cuffs she can do nothing to protect herself as they complete the task of cutting away the remains of her suit. When she is completely naked they leave her to stew, the tirelessly vibrating dildo still deep in her sheath, the clamp on her clitoris burning with unbearable persistence.

The baritone voice comes and says, "You will stay with us until we are done with you. Then we will take you back to where we got you and let you go. We will not injure you in any permanent way but you will not enjoy some of the things we plan for you. We hope for your eventual forgiveness."

Cathy shakes her hoodwinked head and makes demanding noises around the jersey covered gag ball in her mouth.

"Sex slaves soon learn not to make demands." Says the contralto from above her and two more toothy clamps close down on Cathy's rock hard nipples. "Scream all you want Cathy, we're out in the desert now and no one is going to hear you."

After an endless time of pain and passion, and rage and passion, and joy and passion, and finally acceptance and passion, the van slows and turns off the highway. Soon the dust and wildly rocking motion of a desert track tell Cathy they are leaving the pavement far behind. Inside her now soaking wet jersey hoodwink the dust and heat turn her face into a mud streaked mess.

She struggles to find a way out of her trap but the bondage will give her nothing with which to work. There are no knots to loosen, no loops to work up any slack, no nothing but the constant vibrations against her G spot and the three clamps burning on her clit and nipples.

It is a long time before the van stops. In that time Cathy has cum twice more, passing out both times so that she has no way of knowing how far they have driven.

As the van's motor goes quiet, Cathy hears the soft sighing of the desert wind in the sage, the ticking of the van's hot motor, the quiet conversation of her three captors.

"Think she needs to pee?" says the contralto.

"Not again," says the baritone, "she did that the first time she passed out."

A tenor says, "Lets get camp set up, she ain't goin' nowhere."

Cathy lays in her hogtie, her three clamps burning like candles on her clitoris and nipples, the constant vibrations inside her vagina nothing but background to the buzzing in her ears.

After a while hands come and release her ankle rope from her crossed and pinioned wrists, leaving the loop of rope dragging between her ankles. She is helped out of the van and walked, stumbling blindly over the rough ground until she is standing on a blanket that has been spread out in the shade under some kind of a shelter. Forced down onto her knees, she feels a dangling rope being tied around her crossed wrists, preventing her from laying down, then the ankle rope is again hooked up over her hands, lifting her feet from the ground and trapping her in her kneeling position. She is left there, balanced on her aching kneecaps, the huge vibrating dildo and hurtful clamps still doing their evil best to keep her aware of her femaleness.

After several endless minutes someone comes, removes the ball gag, unties the hoodwink and rolls it up just enough to expose her mouth but not her eyes. She is given a long drink of cool water, a bar of chocolate and then, without warning, a large, jaw stretching ring gag.

She then begins to find out what it's like to sexually service two men and a woman while unable to close her mouth.