Kidnapped! (3 page)

When the photos were finished, both men just stood there, looking down at her. The lust within was obvious on their ugly faces, and in the bulges in their pants. Linda Goodbody had that effect on men. She just hoped that they would continue to obey the man they called “the Boss” and not fuck the shit out of her.

Reluctantly, the dildos were withdrawn. The reluctance was both on the part of the men who were stimulated by seeing her so stuffed, and, truth be known, on her part since she was just beginning to enjoy the full feeling in her vagina. When her mouth was empty, she had to make an effort to keep from asking them to leave the other one in. But it came out and her ankles were locked again in the legcuffs.

As she was being put away in her room, she noted that they had not bothered to put her panties back on.

Chapter V

Photo Session

Half way around the world, in a sunny room in Italy, another henchman was saying, “Damn, I wish the boss didn’t want her untouched! I’d sure like to fuck her!”

The object of his attention was Angelicia. In a remarkably similar manner to what was befalling Ms. Goodbody, this young woman was being taken out for her daily photo shoot. The main difference was that these men not only photographed her in tight restraints but also in pain. Today she was taken to a different room, one that looked more like a mechanic’s workshop. There were two benches with tools on them and hanging on the wall behind them. The concrete floor was dirty and oil stained. There was also an overhead beam with a large hoist.

When led into the room, Angelicia’s arms were bound behind her back, elbows tightly together and rope around her waist pinning her arms to her back, also having the effect of making her breasts stick out proudly. Once there, she was forced to sit on the floor while her legs were bound with more rope. The hook at the end of the hoist cable was lowered and her ankles bound to it. Then she was pulled up until she was hanging totally upside down, her long black hair reaching for the floor.

Slowly, she twisted half around to one side, then back. The oscillations died down and she was left hanging still. For a long time, the two men who had hung her up like a freshly killed deer about to be dressed, just looked at her, probably enjoying the nearly perfect, totally naked young woman. One of them finally knelt beside her and, grabbing one breast, attached one of those metal clips that dug into her tender flesh and caused her to gasp in pain. Without a pause, the grabbed her other breast and attached a second clip.

“That hurts!” she could not help saying. “Please take them off.”

“After your photo, sweetie. Smile for the camera.”

Angelica did not smile. In fact, the pain was clearly visible on her inverted face as the tears began to form. Several shots were taken, mostly from the front and showing all of her hanging condition, but with a couple close ups of the abused nipples.

After the photos were taken, they amused themselves for a few minutes by twisting her around and watching as she “unwound”. Her little cries of pain as the weighted clips tormented her nipples amused them.

“Could we leave her hang for a while?” asked one of them.

“Sure, why not? She looks pretty like that.”

Leaning over, he flicked one of the clips with his finger, causing her to cry out as the tiny metal teeth dug in more. He stood up and slapped her bare ass with an open hand but hard enough to bring forth a yelp of pain and surprise. A red handprint began to form on the smooth skin.

“See you in an hour or so, sweetie,” he told her. Then he laughed and added, “If we don’t forget about you!”

Chapter VI

Casing the Joint

The next morning we got on a commuter flight northward and landed at Milan’s Malpensa Airport. There we took a room at the Hotel Principe di Saviona, which was better than I expected. The room was good sized, clean and had sort of an old world charm. At least that’s what Susie called it. It seemed a little on the old side to me, but it did have a very nice indoor swimming pool – not that I planned to go swimming.

Before leaving Rome, I made a call to a phone number Riszini had given me. Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Susie was in the shower when I opened the door to find a man standing there looking like a banker in his custom made suit and briefcase. He looked me over for a second, seemed satisfied that I was who he expected, and walked in without a word. He laid the briefcase on the table and opened it. Inside, resting on velvet, were two automatics. I picked up the larger of the two. It fitted nicely in my hand. Not quite as nicely as Betsy, but pretty good. Betsy was an older model 1911 standard issue but still probably the best automatic ever made. This one was a Gold Cup edition, which meant it was modified for additional accuracy and dependability. I put it down and picked up the other one.

This was shorter, only a six and three-quarters inch length compared to the Gold Cup’s eight and a half inches, but it still packed all the stopping power of a .45. It was a Colt Defender, a good carry and hide-away weapon. If felt good also.

“Your employer said that the second gun would be for a woman,” he told me in perfect English. “So I took the liberty of choosing a small, lighter weapon. It is still, however, .45 caliber.”

“Fine. What do I owe you?”

“Compliments of your employer.” He actually bowed his head. “There is ammo in the case under the weapons. Also concealed holsters.”

“I shall have to thank Mr…” He cut me off with a shake of his head. Okay, I got it, no mentioning names. Fine with me. “My employer when I talk to him again.”

He nodded again and departed.

I pulled off the first layer and found the promised ammo, four fifty-round boxes, and two holsters for under-arm carry. Also two belt holsters in case under the shoulder was impractical.

“Who was that?” Susie asked.

I turned to find her standing here, a rather small towel wrapped around her, far too small for a girl of her size, and drying her hair with another towel.

“A Greek bearing gifts,” I told her.

“You’re supposed to be wary of Greeks bearing gifts,” she said as she walked over to the table.

“An Italian bearing gifts then.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” she said as she reached for the Gold Cup.

“No way! The other one is yours.”

She snorted. “I can handle a full sized auto. Want to find a shooting range and have a contest?”

“Take the Defender. And get some clothes on.”

She smiled sweetly, picked up the assigned weapon and retreated to the bathroom. Later, when she came out I could hardly see where she had hidden the Defender in the belt on her jeans. It was covered by the shirt. Both shirt and jeans were black, and made her look rather on the sinister side.

Around noon we left the hotel on foot, looking for someplace to eat, and found a MacDonald’s only a block from the hotel, which suited me fine but made Susie sulk because she wanted something more Italian. And probably more expensive.

We stopped at a bookstore where I purchased a detailed map of the area. Back in the hotel room, we took it easy while we adjusted to the jet lag. I was pouring over the maps, trying to read the Italian words. Susie field-stripped her Defender, wiped all the parts, reassembled it, and then loaded it. I already had mine loaded and resting under my arm where the weight of it felt rather good.

I decided to call mine Gina. Seemed appropriate.

A call to the desk got us a rented car for driving to the place where Reszini told me this Alberto Savinio had a villa. I was hoping it was the right one because he had two of them, and might not have Angelicia at either of them. But still, I had to start someplace. We decided to have an early dinner and do our reconnoitering in the morning.

The hotel clerk recommended
Ristorante Papa Francesco
, not too far away. I ordered spaghetti with marinara sauce while Susie ordered something called “
Tagliatelle con Astice”
. It was half a lobster shell filled with something, a pile of noodles and a claw, presumably from the same lobster. The noodles had some kind of sauce with little chunks of who knows what. She said it was good. Should be; it was the most expensive thing on the menu. I would rather have gone back to MacDonald’s. At least there you know what you’re getting.

At least there was a bar in the hotel. I told Susie to go on up to the room while I spent some time washing away the taste with some good scotch. When I staggered… I mean, when I finally decided it was bedtime, Susie must have already been asleep for the door to her room was closed. I put Gina on the nightstand by the bed and that was the last I remembered until there was a loud knocking on my door.

Susie was dressed and ready to go. She had ordered an American breakfast for me from room service, so I didn’t have to eat something I didn’t know and couldn’t pronounce anyway. The coffee was good and I drank the whole pot. Which was fine with Susie, because she was having her usual health food breakfast of fruit, whole grain cereal and yogurt, washed down with carrot juice. Ugh.

I let Susie do the driving because she could read the road signs better than I could. They were in Italian, actually. We headed north out of Milan. I gave her directions from the map and we headed for a
Lago di Dolore
, which she said meant “Lake of Pain”. And who said the Italians have no sense of humor?

The lake of pain was not large, only a couple miles long, filling a valley between two low mountains ranges. We were high enough for pines to be growing around the lake. Between those trees large villas peeked through. The whole area reminded me of some parts of California where mucho expensive homes mix in with forest and wildlife. A few sailboats cruised the lake and a few larger powerboats were moored at docks along the shoreline.

Following the twisty mountain roads, we finally found the address we were given. Unfortunately, from the road all you could see was a locked gate and high fence disappearing into the woods on either side.

I had Susie slow down as we drove past, but told her not to stop when I saw surveillance cameras posted on either side of the gate.

“Now what?” she asked.

“We sneak in,” I replied. All she did was nod and turn the car around.

We backtracked to a small town called Salorino were we found a small inn and got a room. I told Susie to get some rest because we would wait until after dark before breaking in. She said fine but she was going to do some looking around first.

I laid my body down but could not sleep. I’m not usually worried before marching into danger, and I wasn’t this time either. What worried me was Linda.

My phone beeped. I was surprised when my hand trembled flipping it open. One message with photo from some address I did not recognize. With a nervous finger I pressed the spot on the screen that would reveal the photo.

It was as bad as I feared and not as bad. It was a photo of Linda. She was chained down to a bed and naked. But the worst part was the big dildo shoved into her mouth. It was so big, it seemed her eyes were bulging. I cursed under my breath. Then I saw that there was another dildo, or at least the end of one sticking out of her vagina. I swore out loud. Someone was going to pay for this.

The only good part was that she was sexually abused but apparently not tortured. I also figured that she was probably not raped or they would have delighted in photographing that instead of a symbolic rape with those plastic replicas.

If I could rescue this Angelica and get her back quickly, I might save Linda from a non-symbolic rape and/or torture. Because, if they hurt her, I was going to make sure they regretted having been born,

I paced the room, looking out the window, wishing the sun would set faster. Eventually Susie came back from her wanderings. I told her about the photo and showed it to her. She whistled. “Hey, she’s nice looking,” was her comment. I grunted. Susie made no comment about what they were doing to her.

I don’t remember what we had for dinner. Something with sausage or something. Finally it was getting dark enough and we hit the road. I made sure that Gina was loaded and ready. Susie checked her gun. I don’t think she gave it a name.

It was a good thing that we had driven up there in daylight because I don’t think we could have found the place in the dark. When we parked around a curve and out of sight of the gate, the whole caper reminded me of a recent experience in Japan. There I was also waiting in a pine forest, outside a protected residence and about to walk into danger. I could only hope the outcome of this effort was as successful as the last.

Chapter VII

A Real Orgasm for a Change

“Did you ask him?”

“Yeah. It’s still no fucking the broad.”

The two guards overseeing the imprisonment of Linda Goodbody were discussing their charge, and not happy that they had to watch over such a choice morsel but not be able to shove their pricks into it.

“Is he really going to let her go when that private dick delivers his daughter?”

“Use your head! She’s seen our faces. Would you let her go?”

“Yeah.” Then Mack brightened up. “But that means we’ll be able to screw her before we kill her!” He frowned. “Wonder why he won’t let us do it now, seeing how it won’t matter if she’s been fucked or not. Hell, she would probably enjoy a couple of good fucks! Sort of a send off.”

“That makes sense. But I ain’t going against the Boss’ orders. Get yourself killed that way.”

“Yeah. Well, time for the photo session. What did the Boss say he wanted done this time?”

“You’ll like this. Get her in here and I’ll show you.”

Linda was in her small private room. She was totally naked since the guards figured it would not upset their boss if they at least looked at her. And she was an eyeful to look at.