Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 01

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Smokey Saga : “Beyond Hell And Back”

This, to put it lightly, is a harsh story—far harsher, more dark and sinister than my other works. Some might go so far as to call it “brutal.” It’s a much more malicious side to my writing than has been shown thus far. No kidding—on the spectrum of erotica, if “Hypnothe-Rapist” is at one extreme, this is at the other; the two could not be more different. And also standing apart from my previous Sagas, hopefully without giving too much away, this story does not have a sweet happy ending. Feel free to leave feedback, Readers, it’s always welcomed, valued and appreciated. So without further ado…

***

August 28th, 2:15 a.m.

It was a full-tilt booming fiasco at The Twilight, teeming with hundreds of ardent clubbers on the floor. Strings of multicolored strobe lights lined the ceiling of the otherwise dark building, bouncing dim spotlights over the entire joint, under a cacophony of vociferous techno trance music, dripping over it all like a hot fudge sundae.

In the midst of the whole scene, sitting at the bar was a group of five young women. Four of them were raucously partying, throwing back drinks, hitting on guys, having one of the nights of their rowdy lives…and toasting the one girl who wasn’t partying. She, as it turned out, was the birthday girl. Holly. 21 years old, as of 10:57 p.m., August 27th, 2003.

Holly sat shy and quiet at the bar, her boisterous friends on either side. She stared into her virtually untouched glass, hands in her lap, trying to look like she wasn’t here with these hoydens. She felt like a fish out of water: embarrassed, nervous and reluctant…but most of all she felt uncomfy. Very uncomfy. The fact was, she hadn’t even wanted to come to this club for her birthday. She’d never been to it before, and she didn’t like it here. Her friends had figuratively dragged her along, but it might as well have been literally. She came because she couldn’t say no, and because her friends were persistent. In fact, lately she had begun questioning why she remained friends with them. She knew it probably made her “uncool,” but she couldn’t have felt less at ease here. She wished she could’ve just stayed home, in her nice safe house, with her nice safe Mom and Dad.

They had given her a sedate little party at home, which was really more her style, and presented her with a beautiful new light-blue blouse, which she was wearing right now. She’d put it on for them just before her friends dropped over and kidnapped her, insisting her 21st birthday was instant grounds for a full-tilt booming fiasco at The Twilight.

They had been there about an hour and a half, and while out of morality she didn’t want to, Holly was heavily considering lowering herself underneath the bar, slipping by her kidnappers and going home. Although she hated doing anything deceitful or dishonest, it wouldn’t be too difficult to ditch her friends. They all had a few belts in them, and they weren’t paying attention to her at all; they were draping themselves over young men who approached to buy them drinks.

That was it. Holly made up her mind. She slipped off her shoes, picked up her purse, slowly spun herself around the stool, ducked down, rapidly tiptoed straight to the door in her bare feet, and let herself out. She could have used a quick trip to the ladies’, but she didn’t like public restrooms and she really didn’t want to spend one more minute in this place.

She got outside to Kent Street, breathed a sigh of relief and put her heels back on. She sighed, just wanting to get away from here. It was a sketchy neighborhood, she was getting tired and all she wanted now was to go home and hit the sack. Unfortunately for her, her girl buddies had wanted to get tanked, so they’d taken public transportation here. She’d have to take the bus back. She mentally rerouted herself and continued walking. The closest stop, she believed, was at the corner of Kent Street and Queensquare Road. She had a good little journey ahead of her. Luckily, she knew there was a bus every half hour or so. On the way, she called her parents, knowing there was little chance but hoping they could be awake and come get her. No luck. Click.

She shook her head, thinking about her “friends.” Again, why did she hang out with these girls? She had next to nothing in common with them, and they always took advantage of her. Then again, she told herself, it seemed that people had always taken advantage of her growing up. She felt ashamed of her inability to tell anyone no. She thought it made her a pushover…a jellyfish, a doormat, a marshmallow. Come to think of it, taking advantage went hand in hand with teasing her. She was mercilessly teased, mocked and ridiculed in school, in large part because halfway through year one—ostensibly deemed brainy by those other than herself—she was taken out of first grade illegal bahis and dropped in second. The alienation was awful. The lack of positive attention as a child gradually translated into a need to do whatever it took to make people like her as an adult. Hence her compulsion to please everyone and never say no. And yet, at the same time, she didn’t feel she received any reciprocation or respect. It was all so…so…frustrating.

Her grade jump was the reason she was 21 and all her friends were 22. The fact that her friends grew up and became young women a year before she did made a psychological impact on her. She never fully grew up mentally, and so her tendencies and behavior remained childlike. Not foolishly immature, but merely unsophisticated. She was naïve, innocent and easily influenced. When someone treated her like an adult, or addressed her as “Miss” or “Ma’am,” it felt bizarre. Time went on, but her mindset stayed put. Chronologically, she was 21, but in her kiddish mind, she might as well be 14. In this respect, her friends grew up without her.

She made a note the next time they wanted her time to politely tell them to bugger off. She chided herself for not toughening up and being such a chicken in situations like this night. She proceeded to give herself another scolding for giving in to the pressure her friends put her under tonight to buy them a round. And she’d done it. It was her birthday, for heaven’s sake! She didn’t even drink!

It was just a few more minutes to the bus stop. She could make out the Juniper street sign over the major highway. Good, just another block or so. She kept berating, then forgiving herself, thinking she just needed a good night’s sleep and things would be all better. And she would strengthen her will, and stop always giving others what they needed in exchange for temporary gratification. And she’d grow up already! She would become life-smart, in addition to simply being book-smart, and learn to know shortcake from Shinola. Yeah. She’d show them. And she’d show herself. She’d stop doing favors and buying drinks and just saying yes all the time. She tried calling home again, even though she was positive they wouldn’t answer, and she was right. Disappointed, she kept heading for the bus stop. Phooey, she thought. She was really hoping she could get her folks to come pick her up and save her a…

…Wait a minute.

A ping of panic struck her. Waaaait a minute, she repeated in her head. She let the ping grow into a realistic strike of alarm and trepidation. She stopped walking, grabbed her purse and started worriedly sifting through it.

Oh no, she thought, her dread growing. OH, NO.

She had no money left for the bus. She had only taken a few dollars with her, and that had ended up going for the drinks. The club was fifteen miles from her house. There was no way she could walk that far, in heels or barefoot. She ruffled through her purse more quickly and fearfully, trying to remember how much money she’d given the bartender, and how much she’d left home with. Oh no! she kept thinking, on the verge of tears. Oh, God, no! Oh, now I’m screwed! What am I gonna do??

For half a second she considered going back to The Twilight, but that just wasn’t an option. It had been about thirty minutes since she left. She was now several blocks away, she was very tired, and if she knew her friends, they’d already left with some sleazy-looking guys, no doubt on the way to some further debauchery.

She had her credit card, but a lot of good that’d do on the bus. She had already tried calling home twice. She tried a third, then immediately again a fourth time, but to still no avail. Her mind raced through anything and everything that came to mind, looking for options. She was ten seconds from dumping the contents of her purse on the sidewalk in one last-ditch effort to find some cash.

Oh no…oh, why didn’t I just give the bartender my stupid credit card?! Oh gosh, I’m such an idiot! What was I thinking??

Apparently, she was thinking her so-called friends would give her a ride home. Her naiveté and flighty mind tended to land her in such troublesome spots as this. She whimpered and sniffled, punishing herself for making all these absurd decisions leading up to her current state. She could have brought more money! She could have asked her Mom and Dad to wait up for her! She could have resisted her friends’ demands to go out with them in the first place! She could have worn sneakers! She could have—

The next sound stopped her heart.

Click.

“Don’t say a word.”

Before her brain even had time to register it, a predatory gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and she felt something press the side of her head, which she did not have to look to know…was a cocked gun.

Holly automatically screamed in terror, but all that escaped was a muffled squeal.

***

August illegal bahis siteleri 28th, 2:55 a.m.

Holly felt herself being literally dragged off the street, into the back of an alley and finally through a door into a pitch black interior. By the time they got inside, scared and submissive to the core as she was, she was already crying hysterically. Her attacker locked the door behind them, and she felt the gloved hand unmuffle her mouth.

When she realized she could speak again, she wailed, “Please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me! I-I-I don’t have any money! Please don’t kill me!” She sobbed out the words, covering her head with her arms.

She heard the same deep, inscrutable voice again.

“That’s just fine; I don’t want your money.”

She breathed heavily, petrified to move, unable to see a thing in the blackness.

“W—…what do you want?” she timidly asked from between her elbows.

A single bare light bulb clicked on above them. They were in what appeared to her to be a…warehouse. Holly looked up to see a…

…A woman. A woman about Holly’s height, who looked 30, maybe a little older, dressed in a black jumpsuit, black gloves and boots, a hair color somewhere between blonde and brunette, and icily piercing blue eyes, smiling at her, pointing the gun.

She answered. “Just you.”

Holly cowered at the sight of the gun barrel, more scared than she could ever remember being.

“Welcome to my dungeon,” the attacker greeted with her malicious smile. “Well, it’s my warehouse, but I use it as my private dungeon. Oh, and you may call me Farrah,” she said. “And what’s your name then, young lady?”

Her faculties were useless. This was the most horrifying experience she’d ever been through. All she could think to do was comply.

“H—…Holly…” she slowly wept out.

“Ah,” leered Farrah. “Pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty little girl.”

“Please don’t kill me, Miss Farrah,” Holly sobbed again.

“Oh, I have no intention of killing you, Holly,” she heard Farrah reassure her. “None at all.”

Feeling only an iota better, Holly blubbered, “Then…then what are you gonna do to me?”

A chuckle. “All in good time.” The depth in her voice intensified. “First of all…” She gestured with the gun. “…The purse. C’mon.”

Still fearing above all for her life, Holly quickly tossed her purse on the floor between them.

“That’s a good girl. Now then, anything else in your pockets? Phone? Wallet?”

Holly shook her head. “It’s all in there.”

“Very well,” Farrah rejoined, placing the purse behind her amid some boxes. Holly watched her only means of contact disappear.

She knew her attacker had already given her an answer to this question—or lack thereof—but Holly couldn’t help but ask again.

“Miss Farrah?…What’re you going to do to me?” Her face was covering with tears.

“Now, now, we’ve been through all that,” Farrah said, more sternly. “Besides, I’m asking the questions here.

“So,” she turned back to Holly, boring cruelly into her with her sinister eyes. “How old are you, little girl?”

“Tw-twenty-one,” Holly stammered.

Farrah gave another chuckle. “Well, now, you are just a baby, aren’t you…” She nodded. “I like that.”

You…like that? a puzzled Holly thought.

“So what’s a sweet young thing like you doing on a street like this in the middle of the night?” was Farrah’s next question.

Holly thought she might as well give up all the details. It might even elicit a tiny bit of sympathy from this forbidding lady, her daft mind thought. She piped her voice up a little and explained, “Um…my friends took me out here to The Twilight for my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday!” Farrah said in amusement. “Isn’t that something! I might just have to come up with a little present for ya.”

Holly only trembled and recoiled in response.

“Well!” continued Farrah, “Guess it’s about time we got down to business then, whaddaya say.” Keeping the gun pointed in poor Holly’s direction, Farrah ordered, with the same ominous smile, “Get your clothes off.”

A rush of a whole new fear froze Holly’s body. “What?” Holly squeaked, wondering if she’d heard correctly.

Farrah’s smile disappeared. She did not care for delayed obedience.

“You heard me, little girl,” she reiterated, much less amicably. “Get ’em off. Now.”

Holly gaped at her incredulously. You…can’t be serious, she thought in horror. Her parents had warned her about the dangers of bad neighborhoods before, but she could never have imagined something like this. She murmured for clarification.

“B—…but-but…why? I—”

Farrah took two big, deliberate steps towards her, making the snap of the bare wooden floor echo around them.

“Get, your fucking clothes off, NOW!!” she exploded, cocking the gun on the final word canlı bahis siteleri at the poor petrified girl.

Holly panicked. This outburst let loose a whole second dam of tears in her. She started bawling like a baby.

“Okay!” She hastily began undressing. “Just please don’t shoot me!” she repeated.

Farrah eased up and ambled back the couple steps. She put the gun down and removed her gloves. Holly yanked off her heels, dropping them to the floor. She carefully took off her new blouse next and paused a moment. She held it up for Farrah to see. “Um…lady?” she cautiously asked. “…My-my parents gave me this blouse for my birthday…I don’t want it to get ruined.”

Less angry again, Farrah thoughtfully raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? Well, I can appreciate a fine garment. Give it here.”

Holly again cooperated, and Farrah draped the blouse over the boxes where she’d put Holly’s purse.

Now clad in only her bra and panties, Holly put her hands over her privates. Farrah motioned for her to go on.

“C’mon, I said; all of it.”

Holly’s drenched eyes widened at her in shock. “You mean…naked??”

“That’s right, doll, naked!” Farrah confirmed, again angry and impatient. She grabbed the gun. “Want me to do it for ya?!”

Holly vehemently shook her head. She suddenly realized that had there been no gun involved in this situation, she wouldn’t have such a problem saying no at all. Then again, she had also never been presented with such a set of terrifying circumstances. Her face pinkened in humiliation as she unhooked her bra and let it fall into her arm. With the other hand, she slipped down and stepped out of her panties. She crouched down, attempting to avoid completely exposing herself.

Farrah nodded, gesturing for her to stand. “A’right, little naked girl, on your feet.”

Hanging her head in shame and disgrace, Holly slowly rose, one arm across her breasts, other hand over her hairless virgin pussy.

“Hands up.”

Holly knew that was coming. She started helplessly weeping for mercy again, not moving her hands.

“Hands up, I said. Do it.”

Holly’s body was quivering. She felt like her legs were about to give out underneath her. She tried to be still.

“But you’re scaring me!”

Farrah stamped the floor with such furious force the echo bounced around the entire building.

“DO IT GODDAMMIT!!”

Again, the yelling intimidated Holly to the point of agreement and submission. She tightly shut her eyes and quickly raised her hands above her head, her soaking wet pink face now turning beet-red. She whimpered, feeling the air on her uncovered genitals.

Farrah strolled towards her. Holly closed her eyes even tighter, hearing the footsteps approach. There was no way to fathom how much Holly did not want Farrah to touch her naked body.

“A—…are you going to rape me?” she softly peeped.

Farrah chuckled wickedly, admiring the modest curves of her pure young body. “Not exactly…but you’re on the right track.”

Holly sobbed meekly.

“Oh, now cheer up,” Farrah encouraged, letting one of her hands rest on Holly’s queasy tummy. Holly cringed and reflexively turned away. The next part of her body Farrah touched was her behind, which made her jump.

“Nice ass…” Farrah commented. She stroked her back. About as creeped out as humanly possible, Holly lowered her arms.

“Ah!” Farrah scolded. She grabbed Holly’s arms and pulled them back up over her head. Again forcing her to keep them there, she next glid her hands up Holly’s sides and under the arms, making her half-shriek and half-giggle.

“Ooh,” Farrah said with a pleased grin, poking her about the ribs. “Ticklish, are we?…Very nice…” She continued fondling.

“Miss Farrah, please stop it!” whined Holly. “I don’t like this!”

Farrah turned Holly to face her, nose to nose. Holly opened her eyes to see Farrah’s face inches from her own, and immediately shut her eyes tight as before. She felt Farrah stroke her chin, and then felt her evil hands grope both of her breasts.

Holly tried to jerk her body away. “Please don’t touch me there, lady!”

“‘Please don’t touch me there, lady’?” Farrah teasingly mimicked in an inquisitive tone. “How old did you say you were again?”

“I don’t want you to touch my…” Holly lowered her voice to a whisper. “…Boobs!”

“Very well.” She slipped her hand between Holly’s legs and rubbed. “Ooh, nice smooth pussy too.”

Holly jumped again. “NO!!” she tearfully shrieked. “STOP it! Leave me ALONE!” Her voice cracked piteously.

“Ah, don’t be such a little fuckin’ crybaby,” Farrah told her. She took a few steps in another direction, where a thin but sturdy wall divided the interior warehouse space between the area they occupied and an additional small cranny behind. The sectioned-off part of the wall where Farrah stood was nine feet high, six feet wide, and lined with metal hooks rectangularly patterning the perimeter.

“Get over here.”

Holly opened her moist eyes. Farrah was pointing to the floor where she was standing, in front of the unpleasant-looking wall.

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