Blue Bunny Panties

It was an easy mistake for the little girl to make. I guess she thought my car was her parents' car.

Same model, same color. Close to where her mom and dad had parked. At least that's what I think happened. Maybe I should have asked her but I was more concerned with kidnapping her.

That's right. Kidnap.

I suppose you think I'm some cruel bitch who goes round abducting kids. Well, I sure am now. But I wasn't until that fateful afternoon.

I don't know why I chose to stop at that mall on the edge of wherever. I was a long way from home and tired if not lost. I pulled in thinking I would ask directions or buy a map that actually showed where I was or even just have a break from driving.

Two hundred miles with only one rest break, and that some 150 miles back. I was really getting frazzled. Hell, I didn't even want to go to this damned wedding of my aunt's in the first place but everyone kept nagging.

Aunt Georgina even got me to somehow agree to being a bridesmaid. Damn, me in peach satin - I can't believe it!

More than that. She persuaded me to bring my friend Sondra and her daughter Leoni so the ten year old could be a bridesmaid too. One of five all told: Aunt Georgina always went over the top.

But Leoni had gone down sick so Sondra and she stayed home. I was on my own with two peach-colored satin bridesmaid dresses in the hope that Aunt Georgina might find someone else to wear the smaller of the two.

God, family weddings are so stressful!

I sat and felt like closing my eyes, just parked among all these other cars. For some reason I'd left the back doors unlocked and I must have dozed for a couple of minutes. I didn't hear the door open. I sure didn't hear the child climb in.

When I heard something in the back I looked round, suddenly awake, heart pounding in me. You hear stories of rape and murder in places like this and wonder how anyone can be so stupid as to fall asleep with all the doors unlocked.

Yep, that's me you're looking at.

So the kid was sat there, all wide eyed on the back seat, just looking at me. Seven years old, blue eyes, blonde curls. The kind of child you see in expensive soap commercials. Real pretty. Cute, if you like kids.

I didn't especially. I'm old enough to have been married - was in a way when I lived for ten months with a schmuck who turned out to be a real pig - and have kids. Except I hadn't. I was a lonely thirty three year old trying to make a living on her own.

Men? Nah. They'd always let me down.

So here was a pretty little girl, just staring at me. Doe eyed innocence. She said: 'You're not my mommy.'

'No. I'm not. Where is she?'

'Dunno,' replied the brat (that's what I call her now). 'She said meet me at the car, so I got in.'

'Sweetie, this ain't it,' I explained. 'You'll have to go and look for her.' I looked round. Lots of cars, but no heads bobbing around. No sign of anyone who looked as if they were looking for a child. All I was surrounded by was stationary cars and SUVs and no humans. Like I was on Planet Automobile. 'But hey, I'm sure she's somewhere near, so you can soon go and find her,' I added.

The girl just sat there and shook her head, her little blonde locks swaying. 'I can't,' she said. 'Mommy said wait in the car.'

'But this isn't your car,' I tried to explain patiently.

The child - brat - looked round but didn't say anything. She just looked at the inside of my car like it was the same as her mother's.

I felt annoyed and indifferent to her, all at the same time. I thought: I really don't want to have to break my rest stop to find this stupid woman who's lost her kid. I have to go to a wedding and I don't want any delay. I knew there was a motel down the road with a room booked in my name. I just wanted to get there quick and have a long soak in the tub.

I asked over my shoulder as I tried to see anyone who looked like an anxious mother: 'What's your name, honey?'

The child didn't answer, so I didn't know what to call her. You can see why I ended up calling her brat. She just sat there and shook her head as if puzzled by all this. Her little legs were wide apart where she sat on the seat, her short skirt up and I could see her panties.

Yellow with blue rabbits on them. Cute.

'Honey, listen -' I began and then stopped. Don't ask me why, but the thought came to me in an instant. One of those unbidden thoughts that shakes you to the core because it's so powerful, so dangerous but so appealing.

I thought: I could kidnap this kid and no one would know.

The thought was so crystal clear, so perfect I jumped a little. So lucid it scared me. I mean, I'd never had a thought remotely like this. Not ever.

I looked round at the child, as she would somehow sense what I was thinking. I half-expected her to be staring at me, or mouth open in a scream. But brat was just sat there with the same look of innocence on her face.

Odd really, that accompanying that thought was a simultaneous thought that she looked perfect. So adorable, so vulnerable.

I swung my attention back to the vehicles parked round me. I was suddenly hoping that there wouldn't be a woman's head in view. Or a father's head. I had thought about opening the window to hear if anyone was calling, but I held my hand back. I didn't want to know where they were, if they were calling out her name.

Hell, I didn't want to hear what her name was just because that would make this seem less than perfect. She had to be anonymous so I could simply call her brat.

'Listen, we'll go and look for them, okay?' I didn't bother looking at the brat now. I didn't care if she screamed. Well, not too much. 'Just sit still. Soon have you safe.'

That was a lie but suddenly I didn't care. This kidnap idea was so crazy, so strong I felt I was being pushed hard. Heart pounding I put the car in reverse and pulled out carefully, looking all around. I was looking for the mother, but not looking to see her if you catch my drift.

I drove quite fast but not to draw attention, towards the exit. I was glad it was close but at any moment I expected this kid's mother to rush out in front of me, waving her hands, or some security guard waving his gun. Worse, a cop. Then I'd never make this fucking wedding.

But no one appeared. I didn't see anyone at all, so this was my lucky day. I eased the car out on to the road, heart hammering inside me, hardly daring to draw breath. I prayed there wouldn't be some truck slowing me up but the road was clear enough. I pushed the gas and picked up speed: I was clear of the mall lot inside thirty seconds. Away and gone.

In the mirror I only saw empty road, the mall buildings and big welcome sign sliding into the distance. No car swept out after me, tires howling in a cloud of rubber smoke. No flashing lights.

'You seen mommy?' asked the brat. Not in alarm, just curious.

'Sure honey,' I tried to sound calm. 'She's just up ahead. We have to meet her up ahead.'

I don't know where the words came from. Of course, if the kid had any brains she would have realized I couldn't know, but she seemed content. In the mirror I could see her sitting back, legs just as wide apart, panties on view. Fuck, I thought: I'm straight. I'm a good citizen. And I love seeing this kid's pants. I gulped and then said: 'You have to put your seat belt on. You know how to do that?'

Of course she did if her family car was like this. She fumbled a little but got it across her lap. Loose, as it hadn't been adjusted for her.

'Hang on honey, I'll sort it out for you,' I said as I pulled over, still half watching the mirror. There was traffic but nothing urgent. My heart was pounding. It was a risk stopping so soon but it would have been worse in a way if brat was hurt because she was rolling round loose in the back.

I climbed in the back from the front. I may be in my thirties but I work out and keep limber. The brat looked at me as if her mom wouldn't do anything like that. 'Hold still, sweetie,' I said and tightened the belt across her little tummy.

If I hadn't known what I was doing before, the act of tightening the seat belt finally made me realize: I was making this brat my prisoner.

'Ow,' gasped the girl. 'That hurts.'

'Better to be safe than sorry,' I soothed, strangely glad she had felt a moment of discomfort. 'Oh, and your shoes.'

I don't know what made me do it but I turned my attention to the sandals she was wearing: sandals with small straps across the top of her foot. I pushed her feet together and unbuckled one and slipped the strap through the other, re-buckling it so her feet were linked together. Heaven knows where I got the idea from, but the kid didn't fight.

She did ask: 'Why my feet?'

'Because your feet have to be safe too.' I patted her legs as if to say there, all safe now. 'Also honey I could see right up your skirt. You have to keep your legs closed, okay? Your mommy told you that?'

Brat nodded.

'But we can open them later,' I said cheerfully. I put my hand on her legs, below her skirt hem. Bold yellow and white flowers on her skirt. I pushed it back slightly, so I could see more of her tanned little legs. 'You've got nice legs,' I said. 'We'll take a good look at them later if you're good.'

Brat looked puzzled at what I said but didn't holler or try to kick out at my touch. I figured some kids would have done.

I felt bolder and reached further up so I could see and touch her pants. 'Lovely blue bunnies,' I said, thinking I'd swoon at touching them.

'Yes,' she said, almost as if proud. 'They're new.'

'Beautiful,' I chuckled and resisted doing more. I straightened her skirt a little and patted her smooth little legs again.

I got back in the front and drove on, still checking the mirror, at both the child and the road. No tantrums, no pursuit and I smiled to myself. I drove on but thought for a moment: why the hell am I doing this? A game of risk, the way some people parachute down skyscrapers or climb without safety gear? Probably not. Was it a kidnapping for money? No, definitely not. If this kid's mom drove a car like mine they probably wouldn't have much spare cash.

I was doing this for heaven knows what reason. I just figured I'd find out later.

'Where're we going?' asked brat after a minute, before I could dwell too long on my reasons for this craziness.

I suddenly realized I was supposed to be going to a wedding. As it happened I was driving the right way. But there was of course a problem: I had just kidnapped a child and I wondered how I could take her into the chapel.

'We're going to a wedding,' I said straight out. Maybe stupid of me, but I couldn't resist it.

'Am I a bridesmaid?'

'What?' I stared at the child in the mirror. Was she serious?

'I don't mind weddings,' she said, inspecting her buckled-together feet. 'I wanna be a bridesmaid. But I can't walk like this, can I?'

'No,' I agreed. My mind flicked into an image of the brat in a long peach satin dress, clutching flowers, her ankles chained under her dress. A bridesmaid next to me, of course. My prisoner.

I gulped at the clarity of the thought. Where were these ideas coming from? Was I sick? Was I crazy?

Would she be happy being a bridesmaid and willing to be my prisoner?

I drove on for a while, mind racing and heart still beating hard. After a couple more miles I pulled over and looked at the kid in the back. She wasn't moving or crying. Just relaxed. I wasn't: I was in turmoil but I knew I had to test what I thought would happen.

'You want to be a bridesmaid with me?' The brat stared at me, so I continued: 'I'm going to be a bridesmaid and I have a dress you can wear. A bridesmaid's dress like mine. A real pretty dress.'

'Can I see it?' she sat forward a little, hampered by her seat belt and her buckled together shoes.

'Hmm, I think so. If you promise to be good. Very good.'

Brat nodded. 'I promise,' she said solemnly.

'No matter what happens, you'll be good? If you are very good you can be a bridesmaid.'

'Oh sure,' she said, eagerly.

I got out and went to the trunk and lifted out the smaller of the two bridesmaid's dresses laid out. I carefully got in beside the seatbelted kid and laid the peach satin affair over her lap and legs. 'No,' I said firmly, 'you can't touch until I see to your hands.'

Brat looked up at me, unsure what I meant.

'Hold your hands out like me and crossed, like this.' I showed her my hands crossed at the wrists. Brat did the same. 'Keep them there while I get something - and no touching the dress yet,' I ordered, my tone just a shade harder than anything I'd said to her before.

I got out, pulled out a thin cord from just inside the trunk and got into the back again. She had her hands held in the same position, which was good. She was correctly subservient, I told myself.

'Good girl,' I said and wound the cord round her crossed wrists. Brat stared at her hands but didn't say anything. I wondered if she could hear my heart thundering. I knew I could. I also, momentarily, wondered if she was tied up at home and all this wasn't so weird for her.

'I need to make sure your hands are okay,' I said as calmly as I could, though I had no idea what "okay" meant in this case. 'I have to tie your hands for when you touch your pretty dress.'

A look of bewilderment flickered crossed the kid's face. 'Mommy doesn't do that,' she said. 'When we go to the store I can touch the clothes. She doesn't tie my hands.'

'No, but then I'm not Mommy, though I am taking you to a wedding,' I said as I knotted the cord off. She had a short sleeved top on - green as it happened - and the thin cord wouldn't be too visible if she put her hands in her lap, among all those bold flowers. Well, not if you only glanced over as we drove by.

'S'funny,' said brat as she examined her bound wrists. 'It's tight. Hurts a little.'

'Only because you're not relaxing. Know what that is, relaxing?'

The child nodded and seemed to accept it.

'But we have to keep the dress clean. Tying your hands helps,' I said. 'Now you can very carefully stroke the dress.'

She did. 'Oooh,' brat giggled. 'S'nice 'n' soft.'

After a minute (which is all I dared afford brat as we were probably no more than twelve miles from the mall) I stopped her. 'Okay, I have to put the dress away now. We don't want to be late for the wedding do we?'

The child grunted, looking disappointed but didn't argue. I put the kid's dress away and took a scarf - a red and white spotted scarf - from my bag and tucked it into my jeans pocket.

I drove on some more. Behind me, brat wasn't struggling though she was examining her wrist bonds. 'These hurt,' she said flatly before we had gone more than a mile.

'No they don't,' I said firmly.

She started to tug at her wrists, her face crumpled in pain. I guess I had tied them tight, but then I didn't want her getting the cord off. 'Why're they still tied?' She was whining and I didn't like it.

'Because it makes you look pretty,' I said with a big smile into the mirror. I caught her eye and she looked doubtful.

'Will I have my hands tied at the wedding?' She had temporarily stopped struggling.

I thought I'd swoon then and there at the thought of brat walking down the aisle with her ankles chained and her hands bound. Either in front of her or behind her didn't matter. Shit, where was I getting these ideas? 'I don't know honey,' I gulped, feeling a twinge of pleasure in my cunt. 'I'll just be a bridesmaid, like you. But maybe it would be nice.'

I could see in the mirror various thoughts flickering across the girl's face as she was trying to weigh up thoughts of her tied and me tied too. Exactly like her. Of course that wouldn't happen. Brat was my slave, I'd decided.

'I want my mommy,' the child pouted.

Fuck, I thought. I had hoped she would settle and just accept being tied up. I really didn't want a scene right now as -

My heart froze: a cop car, lights blazing, raced down the highway on the other side. Mallwards, if there is such a word. Of course it might not have been going to the mall: I had done the best part of fifteen miles. But, and it was a big but, the police were in a real hurry. Would that mean they were on to me? Road blocks and helicopters?

I stepped on the gas, suddenly scared. I had kidnapped a child - not for money but for some perverse pleasure I couldn't even begin to define. I shivered: a half hour ago I was a tired woman going to a wedding. Now I was a criminal on the run.

The police car disappeared behind me and with it the shiver passed. They weren't immediately after me so I had a chance. I had brat, and her stupid mother had let her wander off so I figured she was fair game. Yes, I planned to tie her up a bit, have some fun with her, but I wasn't going to hurt her. Unless the odd spanking counts as hurting.

I saw it more as warming her ass and that gave me a strange but nice glow between my legs. All I had to do was be sensible and the cops wouldn't find me. After all, there'd be no ransom note. That was when kidnappers get caught, I recalled from some cop show. Their flaw is always getting the money. But there'd be no money, no need to risk myself.

Brat was complaining behind me and her whines brought me back to the reality. 'Okay, brat,' I said between gritted teeth and pulled over yet again. For someone on the run this was getting tedious.

I must have pulled over a little too sharply or didn't indicate in time. There was a woman in a car behind me, who pipped her horn and moved on past, shooting me a glance. A woman with red hair in a black car was all I was aware of. But not a cop, I was relieved to see.

I undid the kid's seatbelt and lifted her out. She was surprisingly light though I admit I don't often lift up small children. I stood her by the trunk and she watched as I lifted my bridesmaid's dress out. I told her to put her hands on the edge of the trunk. 'Don't move, brat,' I growled and the child blinked nervously, clutching the metal work tight. Perhaps she thought me a nice person until now but she was scared enough to stand rooted to the spot. I put my dress on the rear seat and then went back and deftly lifted the girl up. I swung her over the trunk and laid her inside it.

'Nooo,' brat cried, suddenly alarmed as she realized what lay ahead for her. Without warning I smacked her thin legs, my hand print immediately a red blotch on her leg. She paused her complaint, startled, and I whipped out the red and white scarf from my pocket and tied it in the kid's open mouth.

'Nttth,' She howled, 'Mmmmythh!' Despite my makeshift gag it was an ear splitting shriek she repeated over and over, as if her half-wit mother would hear her out here. On the other hand, someone else might.

I cursed my luck that the gag - a cleave gag I now understand - didn't silence the brat at once. I snatched up the box of first aid stuff I keep in the trunk and hauled out an adhesive bandage. The kid wasn't fighting much but I got her mouth taped over. She snorted in pure alarm and snot was all over my hand.

'Little bitch,' I snapped and wiped my slimy hand on her skirt, which had ridden up. I should have wiped it on her pants.

It is at these moments you realize how inadequately prepared you can be for bondage on the road. I slipped my belt off - yeah, an expensive crocodile skin one - and wrapped it round the kid's body and arms, pinning them to her waist, stopping her getting her bound hands up to her gag. Or so I thought: maybe it was survival, but she was trying hard to reach her gag, thrashing her legs which of course were only held by the straps on her sandals. Hell, she might even kick them off. I panicked, then told myself I had to do something before she got the gag out and hollered as much as her small lungs would allow.

I could, I decided, dump her there at the side of the road and drive off. It wasn't a busy road but someone would find her soon. Someone who didn't want to kidnap her probably.

I gulped and thought about finding something else in the trunk to tie her down further but she was kicking hard and caught me on my arm. The damn kid may have been small but her feet hurt. 'Bitch,' I howled. I smacked her legs again, harder but missed full impact as she was wriggling so much. I had dived into my travel bag, trying to dodge another kick. My hand closed round a pair of my pantyhose I carried with me for on the spot replacements and I dragged them out.

I caught brat's legs before she could kick me again and hastily wound one pantyhose leg round her ankles. For a moment she stilled herself but as I tried to get the other pantyhose leg up to her wrists to hold them down towards her ankles, she recovered her fight. I could hear myself calling the child a cunt. I don't know if she understood but I sure felt better.

At the same instant I knew this wasn't going to work. I had, I knew, got to dump the brat before someone came by and saw this fight in the trunk.

I hauled the kid out and in four strides was in among the trees at the side of the road. I swore at the child and dropped her into a small bush. She squealed into her makeshift gag at the pain of the branches and twigs scraping her but I didn't care. I had to get away before she got free and attracted some attention. I scooted to the car, slammed the trunk shut and the spun the wheels as I shot away. Somewhere behind me the brat was struggling in the bushes.

A car was coming the other way, a black car. The red haired woman driving was staring at me. I was past her in a second, head inclined away from her. I gulped and checked the mirror. The black car was slowing as if it was about to pull across to where I had stopped. I pushed the gas hard and sped away, out of sight over a small rise.

I drove on as fast as I could, hands gripping the wheel and knuckles white, a mixture of fear and anger in my belly. I drove on, eyes staring ahead, straining my ears for a police siren. After five miles or so I dared catch sight of myself in the mirror: I looked like a wild woman with a trickle of blood from my nose. In the excitement I never noticed that brat had kicked me or hit me in the face.

I shook my head at the potential mess I had just avoided. I just hoped that nosy cow in the black car wouldn't see anything in the trees, or if she did her concern would be for untying brat and making sure she was okay before calling the police. I could put some distance between her and me.

What I had done was wrong, of course. But for a while I thought I had me a slave, and that cheered me a little even though I hadn't been able to keep the child quiet.

As for my car it was, as the child and that woman would testify, just one of ten thousand plain old red cars on the road in this state alone. If brat had thought to look at my plates I was fried, but I hoped she hadn't been that smart. I was sure that the woman in the black car hadn't seen anything much of me.

I slowly calmed as I drove on into the late afternoon, towards my motel not far where the wedding would be. I made it without any sight of the police but took the precaution of parking my car out of the view of the road, dabbed the dried blood away from my face, straightened what I could of my hair and sauntered in, peach satin bridesmaid dress over my arm.

Just another weary traveler going to a family wedding.

---

I didn't sleep well that night. I had called Aunt Georgina and told her I was right on schedule and I'd see her tomorrow at the church. I also added I also hadn't got little Leoni and her mom Sondra with me.

Aunt Georgina wasn't too pleased I hadn't told her before now but after a few grumbles she finally said she was okay about it. She'd manage, reluctantly, with one less bridesmaid and she'd see me at the chapel. Twelve noon, right?

I wouldn't be late, I assured my aunt. Unless, I told myself as I put the phone down, I'd been arrested in the meantime.

I lay on the bed in the motel room, my mind racing with excitement and apprehension. I couldn't sleep and I wondered how smart I'd look with bags under my eyes from too little sleep. Perhaps Aunt Georgina could manage with two less bridesmaids.

I slipped in and out of a restless sleep for a few hours, jerking awake at every small noise however commonplace. What dreams I had were punctured by small girls in just their bunny-pattern panties pointing at me with hands tied in front of them saying: "It was her. She did it."

In between I planned and argued my defense, though no matter how hard I tried none of it sounded plausible. I settled on something like I thought the child was sick and had to get her to a hospital.

It was about three in the morning when I woke startled from a hazy, light sleep. Someone was knocking on the door of my room. 'Oh, fuck,' I gasped to myself as I struggled out of bed, my mind thinking police raid. I looked round, wondering if I should try to get out through the bathroom window. But didn't the cops always have that covered?

I went to the window and eased the blind aside. It wasn't a cop outside. Just a woman from what I could see. There weren't any cop cars, that was certain. No lights, no one shouting "Police, open up."

I thought, as the woman knocked on the door again - knocking, not hammering - that it was probably a hooker called to the wrong room. It had happened to me before, some years back and that hooker had grinned at me like this was a kinky party and she might get to charge extra.

No chance, lady.

I pulled on my robe, shouted 'Okay, okay,' and opened the door a little. I blinked at the woman. Smart, definitely not a prostitute.

A woman with red hair with her hand on the shoulder of someone small next to her. A little girl, with her mouth taped over, arms out of sight behind her body. A wide eyed blonde haired little girl with a green top and a yellow and white pattern skirt.

'I think this is something you left by the side of the road earlier,' said the woman, calmly.