'Where are we?' asked Janey, her voice tremulous.

'Don't know,' said her friend Isabel, sounding a little more calm. 'It's too dark.'

There was a brief silence between the two small girls. 'Isabel... you there?'

'Course I'm here. I can't go anyplace, can I?'

'I'm scared.'

'Don't be,' said Isabel, as bravely as she could. As the older of the two - if only by a year - she felt it her duty to protect the ten year old. But she didn't feel brave, here in the pitch black. 'We'll get out of here soon.'

Another silence while Janey considered their position. 'Isabel... how long we been here?'

Isabel shrugged, and then realized in this total darkness her friend couldn't see. 'Um, I guess about an hour.' Isabel also thought at the same instant she spoke, it was a lie. They'd been in this black, locked room for much longer.

Probably three hours, but it was hard to tell. That was what Isabel was counting on: that her friend wouldn't have any grasp of the real passage of time. The important thing was that the smaller of the two girls wouldn't start screaming and panicking.

There was no telling what would happen if she did.

Though even that wasn't true, Isabel knew. It would mean the gags again. Probably bigger, and for longer.

'Just don't worry about the time,' continued Isabel. 'I expect we'll be rescued any minute. We just have to keep calm. Like the woman said, remember?'

There was a gasping sound from the other side of the black space, a small sob. 'I don't like her. I didn't like that thing she put in my mouth.'

'That was a gag. I had one too,' said Isabel as soothingly as she could, despite feeling sick at the memory of the ball of rubber in between her teeth. 'It's what they do when they think we're gonna scream. So if we don't, they won't put them back.'

There was a tinkle of a light chain and grunting. Janey was probably trying to fight her cuffs, again. Trying to see if she could worm her small hands out of the steel bands on their wrists. But they were tight. Almost if made for children's wrists.

'Don't, Janey,' sighed Isabel. 'You'll hurt your wrists.'

The advice worked and the grunting stopped. 'They hurt,' said the child.

'I know.'

'I'm scared,' repeated Janey. 'When will they come for us?'

'The police'll be here soon.'

'No, that woman. And the man. When will they come for us.'

Isabel sighed. 'They won't. Just be cool.'

'Can I get near you?' There was a rattle of chain in the dark. Janey, Isabel knew, was trying to get across the floor of this room, shuffling on her bottom towards her friend. Isabel knew that was pointless: the chain that held them by the neck to their own wall wasn't long enough. They'd tried earlier, and failed. It was also painful on the rough floor of their room. Their cell floor.

'Janey... the chains won't allow it,' said Isabel. 'You'll only hurt your neck, like before.'

'Don't care,' grunted Janey's with the effort, her voice with as much defiance as it had ever had since they were taken. Well, since Janey was stupid enough to get into that van. Not for the first time Isabel regretted running after her friend, to try and stop her climbing in.

Didn't the kid remember what they'd been told in school, about accepting rides in strange vehicles?

All that had happened was she was hauled in herself too. And tied up and gagged and hooded and squeezed into a box before they were pushed into this room. Wherever it was. All she could remember was this man laughing and saying "Two for the price of one. Gotta be a bargain."

There was a choking sound from the rattling chain side of the room as the chain inevitably tightened on little Janey's throat. 'Ease up, for shit's sake,' cried Isabel, regretting her first show of temper towards the other girl since the kidnap.

The noises stopped. Feeling guilty, Isabel asked: 'You okay, Janey?'

'Uhm.' Nothing more.

'Janey?' Isabel craned forward against her neck chain, feeling worried for the younger child.

'I'm okay,' snapped Janey. 'I just don't want to be chained up like a dog.' A pause. 'I want to stand up!'

'We can't,' said the eleven year old. 'The way they put the chains on our legs. We have to sit here.' Isabel shook her head, feeling tears in her eyes. She wanted to stand too, but the chain that was attached to each ankle had been fastened up to a belt that each girl wore, so their feet were pulled up to their little butts, as if they were about to sit cross legged. Secured like this they not only couldn't stand but also had to keep their legs apart, their skirts ridden back. Even if she couldn't see it in the dark, isabel could feel the cool air on her open slit.

Isabel had wondered why they'd made her and Janey take their underpants off before they were chained. She still didn't understand but she felt humiliated like this, having her cunny open. If someone turned on the light then they'd see her exposed. They'd see the little fuzz of pubic hair she had on her mound.

She couldn't, she had discovered much earlier, gain much relief to her position or cover her embarrassment by bringing her knees up under her chin. Their captors had thoughtfully put a small cuff device on their big toes: lifting her knees up made the toes rotate in the cuff - painfully, as there was a small serrated edge in each one. It was easier to keep your legs open Isabel had decided, and presumed Janey had discovered the same earlier, listening to the child moan and cry right after saying she was going to change how she was sitting.

The same type of cuff had been used on Isabel's thumbs too: she could move her hands together but the painful little thumbcuffs ensured her hands were kept palm-to-palm.

In the silence the girl shivered. It wasn't cold in the room but the inky blackness made it seem oppressive. Isabel hated confinement and tried hard not to panic, fearing she couldn't breathe. She could and she spent a lot of time disciplining herself to breathe calmly, eyes closed and concentrating.

The door suddenly clicked open and light flooded in, making Isabel blink and screw her face up. When she dared peek there was a figure appeared in the doorway: a female judging by the shape and perfume.

The figure appeared to be looking at Isabel, simply whispered 'Damn!' and closed the door. The lock tumbled shut.

'No, wait!' wailed Janey from her side of the once-again pitch black room. 'Please let me out!' she screamed.

'Janey, don't shout out!' began Isabel but the door opening again stopped her. A man entered, muttered something and went to Janey's side of the room. In the available light, Isabel could see the man had one of those big rubber gags in his hands. He wasted no time in forcing the ball in the ten year old's mouth, reduce her desperate pleas to be released to a blubbering muffle.

Isabel stared at her friend, seeing her struggle helplessly in her chains, mmphing her feeble protests. She could also see the small girl's little slit, and the puddle of water beneath her toe-cuffed bare feet where the child had peed earlier.

Then the man turned to Isabel. 'I wasn't crying out, I didn't -' she managed to say before the ball gag for her went in. With a sinking heart she felt it being tightened behind her head. The man said: Now keep fucking quiet,' turned with a snort and left the room, slamming the door shut. The room was once again plunged into darkness.

Janey was weeping and Isabel groaned. She was going to find it harder to breathe now with this gag filling her mouth. Harder to stay calm.

But she'd try.

----

The door crashed open what seemed like another two hours later. Isabel, for all her resolve, had wept a few times, feeling her tears fall on to her chained ankles. Joining the drool of her saliva that had dripped from the ball gag to make an impressive puddle around her panty-less butt.

Unable to hold back any longer, the pre-teen had also peed, but remembered to shuffle forward a little on her butt so her skirt was behind her and wouldn't get too wet too quickly. It had been weird, pissing like this, feeling the jet of hot pee on her ankles and feet, hearing it and smelling it. But the relief was sublime.

She had also heard Janey whimper into her gag moments later and follow suit.

The big, tall man who came in loomed over Isabel. Without a word he unhooked her neck chain from the wall and simply picked the light eleven year old up as if she was a toy. Tucking her under his arm the man carried the girl from the room, slamming the door behind him.

In the light Isabel blinked her vision back to normal. She was being carried down a corridor, past other doors, past a sound of whimpering coming from one. From another, a smack and a muffled scream. A girl's scream. The man took no notice and held her easily. Isabel thought, vaguely, about struggling. But if he dropped her it would hurt and chained up as she was she couldn't go anyplace.

Ahead of them was a door, different to the others. The man pushed it open and took Isabel into a room with a table and several chairs around it. He simply dropped the child on to the table top in her sitting position, her wet skirt under her butt and her sex on full view to anyone who came in. He turned and left, having hooked Isabel's neck chain to a snap fitting on the table top behind her.

Isabel was left staring at a small window in the wall opposite the door. It was dark outside - but then she estimated as they had been here several hours and she and Janey kidnapped at the end of the school day, that would be right. The window showed some faint lights in the distance, through trees, as if there was a highway some way off. One or two static lights, indicating perhaps a couple of buildings.

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a train, so a railroad wasn't too far away. She told herself this must be the other side of town, if it was their home town at all.

The door opened behind her and though she was tempted to turn round to look at who'd entered she knew it would be better to wait.

'Here she is,' said a woman.

Someone grunted: a man, Isabel guessed, followed by a tutting sound from a woman. A hand - a woman's hand - tentatively felt the cuffs at the girl's wrists, examining them. Someone whispered something inaudibly. Another tut, another grunt.

A black cloth - a blindfold - descended on Isabel, shutting out the light. She felt it tied off behind her head, then footsteps as a woman - judging by the click of high heels - and a man came round the table. Hands were on her, one hand lifting up her wet skirt, the sound of a distasteful sniff at the aroma of stale pee. Another hand was on her gag, as if checking it fitted. Isabel blushed at what she'd done, and the sense that her slit was being stared at. Something - a finger perhaps - brushed the fine hairs of her cunny and she flinched but there was no more.

At least not on her sex. A hand slid over her chest, over the two small bumps that were the start of her breasts. Isabel tried not to pull away, fearing she would topple and fall off the table.

Another few whispers, a stifled laugh. Isabel sniffed: couldn't be sure but the perfume of the woman seemed familiar.

The hands left her, the woman who'd spoken earlier said: 'Satisfied?' The door opened and closed and the room was silent.

But she wasn't alone. There was at least one person still in the room. Two. There was rustling, clothes being disturbed. Deeper breathing, the sound of two people being close. Kissing, breathing harder, a smell of arousal filling Isabel's senses.

Isabel was eleven and didn't know everything about sex, but when she was nine she had gone with her friend Louise to where young couples had sex, on a lonely lane. They had hidden themselves and watched a boy of 16 and a girl of 14 - Danielle Orbis, from their school - fucking like two animals. They couldn't see much from where they'd hidden themselves but the smell and the sounds were distinctive, primitive.

Since then she had learned a little more about what people do for sex, what the sounds and smells of excitement were. That was how Isabel knew these two people were having sex in the room, in front of her.

Oddly, it made Isabel's exposed cunny twitch and pulse. Like when she watched Danielle and that boy and later Isabel had to find a place where she was alone and could masturbate - even at that tender age she knew what she had to do when she was aroused herself. Now she couldn't do anything for herself, thanks to her chains. But she gulped and drank in the sounds and smells.

After a few minutes the two people finished their sex with loud grunts and moans. Sounds stifled, Isabel knew they had done. Climaxed. More rustling of clothes, some contented noises, a whisper. Even a smack on what must have been soft, bare flesh.

The door opened and closed as the two people left. No, only one. A finger was on her slit - a gentle finger, pushing at the tender young fold of her cunny. A sharp nail, like a woman would have, stroked her clit sending tremors of delight through the child.

Isabel let out a series of snorted gasps into her gag as the finger stroked, probing into the immature folds. In spite of herself, Isabel wriggled, trying to get the finger closer. But it stayed on the edge, on the limit of her senses.

Then it withdrew. The door opened and closed, and the girl was alone finally.

In her blindfold, immobilized by her chains and cuffs, Isabel waited and wondered. Trying to work out was was happening. Trying to place the perfume, the lighter gasps, the deeper grunts she'd heard.

It was only much later that night, after she had been taken to a cell, the blindfold and gag removed and she had been chained down flat on her back, arms fastened to the side of a simple bed and legs anchored to the end board and she had drifted into a restless sleep, that she knew.

---

It wasn't a surprise then, seeing her mother and father in front of her. Equally, they didn't seem too distressed seeing their daughter bound to a chair in a room not dissimilar to the one where she had heard the two people have sex and had been almost fingered herself.

Her mother even had the same perfume on.

'You didn't help us, getting involved,' said Isabel's mother as she regarded her daughter.

'No help at all,' echoed her husband, standing as he usually did just behind his wife's shoulder.

'Unnnth,' said Isabel into her gag, wishing that her legs hadn't been tied so her slit was on show. But as she was naked, it probably didn't matter too much, although she didn't like the way her father's eyes stared at her small boobs and her open cunny. Her mother did it too, but that didn't seem as important.

'I have no idea what you're saying, honey,' said the woman. 'Perhaps you'd like to save it until we decide to remove the gag.'

The man nodded, eyes still feasting on his helpless, spread open child.

'Stop staring,' said the mother irritably over her shoulder at her husband. 'It isn't like you haven't seen me like that.'

The man blushed but didn't really avert his eyes. Isabel wished she could say: 'Mom! he's looking again!' But the girl had no choice, no voice.

'You're probably wondering how you got into this fix,' said Isabel's mother. She reached into her purse and took out a cigarette and the man produced his lighter - a present from Isabel for her father's last birthday. Only when she had taken the first inhale did the woman return to her daughter. 'You really should have let Janey go. Getting yourself, ah, tangled up I guess, hasn't helped me and your father.'

'We were going to make some money,' added the man, 'from Janey. Her parents'll pay a lot of ransom.'

'Mmmph uhmmf,' grunted Isabel, the closest she could come to disapproval. She called Janey her friend but wasn't particularly friendly towards her, especially when she did hare-brained things like rush towards an unmarked van for a free ride. But yes, while her parents were wealthy they didn't need to have their daughter kidnapped.

There was also the surprise for Isabel that her parents were criminals. But then, probably so were lots of others kids' folks - even if it was only dodging tax or "borrowing" from a charity collection. The only difference here was the scale of the event.

'A million dollars. That's what we've asked,' said Isabel's mother with a smile. 'Unmarked bills, naturally.'

Isabel raised her eyebrows in surprise. How much? Most kids went for a hundred thousand dollars so this was a much bigger event than she imagined. She wriggled in her seat, wishing her arms weren't tied so tight behind the chair back. It was the way the sharp edge of the chair back cut into her thin upper arms.

Isabel's father brought it back to earth by adding; 'Less the actual kidnap gang commission of course.' He glanced at his wife, who registered a disapproval that seemed to say: "You could have negotiated them down." Added to which she seemed to say: "You should have left it to me."

'So, you managed to get in the way,' sighed Isabel's mom between puffs on her cigarette. 'And now here you are. With the rest of the kidnapped kids.'

'Trouble is, sweetcakes,' grinned the man, eyes back on the girl's young slit, 'you know too much. And Janey knows you know.'

'That means you have to be part of the package,' said the woman, dropping her cigarette to the cold cement floor and grinding it under her expensive high heeled shoe. 'We have to write a kidnap ransom note to ourselves.'

'And we can't afford a million dollars,' growled the man.

'That's right,' explained the mother. 'There can't be two ransom prices. So we have to borrow a million - in unmarked bills - and pay them to ourselves.' She pursed her lips at the ridiculousness of it all.

'That means paying interest. Probably ten percent - and the kidnapper's share.' The man shook his head sadly.

'In short, honey, your public spirited effort to save stupid Janey will cost us some three hundred thousand dollars.' The mother grumbled.

'Plus having the cops sniffing round us, even if we are poor victims,' added the man.

Isabel groaned. She understood that would mean staying here in the cell complex like this, probably naked, probably chained if not bound and inevitably gagged. She groaned more at the next piece of bad news.

'Unfortunately,' said the woman, 'we have to work hard to find someone to lend us the money. Your father's bank', and at this she curled her lip, 'seems to be unable to help.'

'You could be here weeks,' snorted the man. 'And that means more keep fees for the gang. More overheads. Less money for us!'

The couple, clearly unhappy, turned to go.

'Mnnth!' squealed Isabel, suddenly getting an idea. Her mother glanced back at her daughter.

'Mmmnnthh mmmth fffmmh!' yelped Isabel into her gag, wriggling in her seat despite the tightness of the ropes across her naked chest and open hips.

Isabel's mother hesitated. 'What is it?'

'She's just upset,' said the man, tugging at his wife's arm. 'Rope's probably too tight.'

'No,' said the mother. 'I know my daughter. She wants something.'

'Yttth! Yttth,' nodded Isabel frantically. 'Yttthhh!'

'Dunno about that. Damn good beating for what's she costing us,' said the man, taking in his daughter's nakedness again.

The mother stepped forward and in one movement started to unbuckle her daughter's gag, bending her head close to her child's ear and whispering: 'If you so much as scream or beg for release or swear I promise I'll gag you a notch tighter, understood?'

Isabel nodded and felt the relief of the huge ball gag coming out of her mouth, falling heavy and wet into her lap. The child flexed her jaws and said, quietly, 'Thanks, mom.' Then before the gag could go back in, she said: 'I have an idea to help you get some money back.'

'You?' The father snorted.

'Tom! Let her speak,' said the woman, frowning at her husband.

'Mom, Dad, listen. You need money, so I kidnap a kid for you. You get paid for that, then use that money to pay for me. Which you get back.'

'Don't be stupid,' growled the man. 'We'd just go on paying these gangs commission! We'd never get -'

'No, dad! Listen!' Isabel dropped her voice as if they might be overheard. 'I do it. Someone who would trust me. Too many kids won't get into a vehicle they don't know.' She paused, hating to say this. 'They're not all like Janey Gonzalez. But with me they'd trust me. I can get someone valuable into your car. Or anyplace else. You get the ransom quick and then you pay for me.'

'Sweet, honey,' sighed the mother, reaching for the ball gag by her daughter's cunny. 'But that means you'd be out of here. How on earth do you think we'd persuade the gang to let you go before they've been paid? Sorry, it's no go.'

'Mom, wait... you could say that I'm, uh, going to help them get more money.'

'Go on,' said the woman, ball gag poised in front of her daughter's face.

'Well, um, tell them that I know I can get more for Janey.'

'This is ridiculous, Karen. She's wasting out time.' scoffed Isabel's father but his wife didn't move the ball gag closer.

'And how would you go about that?' The woman studied her daughter. 'Unless you really can help.'

Isabel blushed and took a deep breath. 'It's... Okay, you think I like Janey because she's my friend. You think I went after her when she was kidnapped because I like her.' The pre-teen's face was red.

'Go on.' Both parents said as one.

'I hang out with Janey because it gives me a way to be near... close to her mom.' A pause. 'Mrs Gonzalez and me... well, we've been friends... you know...'

'More than friends. Having sex,' breathed Isabel's mother with a slow smile. 'You can threaten to blackmail her.'

Isabel nodded unhappily.

'Now I know what the lez is in Gonzalez,' laughed the mother, winking at her husband who was staring dumbfounded.

'Shit,' said the man after a moment while his wife finished chuckling at her little joke. 'But the woman knows you're someplace as a kidnap victim. How's she going to feel when you turn up and Janey doesn't. Isn't she going to be a tad suspicious?'

'I won't turn up. But I'll tell you where the pictures of me and her are.' Isabel didn't look up as she spoke. The gag had dropped away a couple of inches, which made Isabel feel a little better.

'Pictures. Even better,' said the girl's mother. 'So we blackmail her, she makes a payment. Where're these priceless photos?'

'In my room. In the top of my closet, hidden by old school books, there's a box. Locked with a combination setting. Um, the number's 3968.'

'Let me see: 3968? right... So why can't we use this money simply for our fund-raising? If we get enough from the Gonzalez family we don't need a kidnap. Looks like you stay here.' The gag started to come back up.

'No... listen. You turn the money over to the gang here.' Isabel sounded desperate. 'In return you borrow me. I go and get the one that the Gonzalez family will pay a lot for.'

'Janey's their only daughter,' said Karen. 'A million for her is good. Now open wide and let me get you gagged.'

'Mom! Please! It isn't a girl. It's their son, Marco.'

'Marco?' The parents shot a look at each other.

'They're stupid here. They think everyone only pays for girls. But in the Gonzalez family, they'd pay more for Marco.'

'Why?' asked the mother.

'Because he's the real reason they have money. He's thirteen, right? Next year he gets another five million from his grandfather. When he's 16 there's another eight million. When he makes 18 it goes up to twelve million. The grandfather gives the money to the son - his favorite. His heir - the old man doesn't like his son and his wife much. That's why the family is wealthy. Take the boy away and they're desperate.'

The woman nodded. 'And you know this because you sleep with Mrs Marguerite Gonzalez. Very, very good.' The gag was pressed up to the girl's lips.

'Mom -' Isabel objected. It only assisted the woman in pushing the gag deep into her daughter's mouth. 'Great idea, sweetheart. I always knew you were bright. For now, you stay here. Your father and I have some discussing to do. We'll dig out the photos and come back to you. Sometime.'

The man and woman laughed, waved bye to their daughter and left the room.

Isabel sat, silenced and immobile, and felt like crying.

---

'My, what a pretty sight. They are imaginative here,' said Isabel's mother as she stepped into the cell where Isabel was strapped to a plank of wood between two chairs, hanging upside down but tightly secured by leather straps across her chest (both above and below her emerging bust), round her waist, her hips, upper thighs and knees as well as her ankles. The child's wrists had been strapped to a ring set in the middle upper side of the plank.

Isabel's gag was also tied round the board, keeping her head up.

But it was the child's upper arms - a mass of red weals, the result of a thrashing with a small flogger hanging on the wall close by - that caught Karen's attention.

'Ah,' said the mother. 'I understand you were a little uncooperative so they had to discipline you. I suppose it was inevitable.' She ran her fingernails over the welts, making her child flinch. 'Looks sore,' she smirked as she pinched one of the marks.

Isabel groaned into her gag and a fresh tear dripped from her nose, splashing into the still damp patch on the cement floor beneath her face.

'Don't be upset, sweetheart. I'm not here to punish you some more.' The woman squatted by her daughter's face. 'Pity I missed it though, and I am sure your father certainly is, but he's away on business. You know, he's been quite horny since seeing you all tied up. Mind you, if he was here you'd be thankful your legs are strapped together. My cunt is quite sore and I'm a big girl.

'However, you don't want to hear about all my ups and downs.' The mother stroked her daughter's face. 'Oh, you're so pretty, and so stupid.'

Isabel made a faint objecting noise into her gag in response.

'Well, Isabel, your father I talked over your plan. Of course he screwed me while we looked at the pictures - I think he really liked the ones of you licking Mrs G's asshole - and I liked the ones with you at her boobs like you were a baby. Now that was quite something for me.' The woman put her hand on one of Isabel's small tits and squeezed. 'Of course, these aren't as big as hers, but then she is an old whore, isn't she? You know she's nearly forty two?'

Isabel tried to shift in embarrassment and discomfort: her mother was digging her nails in hard into the soft flesh round the girl's nipples. Even under this assault they were hardening and the girl's mother laughed.

'Sure, I know I'm only your silly old mom and hey, I'm an ancient thirty four... but you never fancied licking my asshole? Or being a baby for me again? I wouldn't have said no to some of the things you were doing in those pictures with dear sweet Marguerite. But then, maybe my tits aren't as droopy as hers. Like to see mine?'

Without a word the woman stretched herself on the floor beneath her daughter, their faces a foot or so apart. 'Wow, this floor's cold and hard,' grumbled the woman as she got herself into position. 'The things we moms do for our kids!'

Slowly Karen unbuttoned her blouse and as she was wearing a front fastening bra she unhooked the clasp between her boobs. Her breasts flopped free though given she was lying on her back, her tits fell sideways. But her nipples were large and hard and the woman stroked herself. 'Oh Isabel. You could have suckled these every day. And my pussy. Or do you and Mrs G call it a cunt?'

Isabel made no sign, but couldn't avoid looking at how her mom was handling her own bust.

'Now,' whispered the woman, 'let me feel how aroused you are.' She reached up and slid her forefinger between the tight vee of her daughter's almost hairless sex, allowing her finger to rub into the slit, on the child's clit. 'Mmmm, feels good,' smiled the mother, working her finger faster. 'Could be even a little damp. Oh don't look so shocked. I rubbed it the first time I came here to see you, though maybe you guessed it was me. But maybe hoped it was Mrs G.'

Isabel tried not to show any emotion and certainly no arousal, but her breathing was changing, her nipples harder still. She wriggled, but more to allow her mother's finger to work better.

'No,' said the woman with a little laugh as she pulled her finger away. 'That's really enough.' Yet she smelt and licked her finger slowly. 'Yep, that's little kid cream,' she snickered.

'Mom,' moaned the child into her gag. A plea for more? Shame? Either way, the woman ignored it.

'Now, angel. Let me tell you what your dear father and I have decided on. Well, I decide, he agrees.' The woman reached for her purse, opened it and took out a single color photo. 'This is a copy of one of your secret pictures. The originals are much too valuable. See, that was just after your birthday last month: I can tell by the way your hair was. But you soon brushed it out. Well, maybe Mrs G didn't like it.'

The woman showed the girl the picture by laying it on her chest. The image was Mrs Gonzalez sat behind a naked, smiling naked Isabel, smiling over the pre-teen's shoulder at the camera. She had one hand on one of Isabel's tiny tits and the other between the girl's spread legs, her mature hand cocked in the fingering mode. The woman looked naked herself, and her tongue was in Isabel's ear.

'You see, all the pictures of you and Marguerite are like this. Well, in spirit if not detail. You and her doing things to each other. Busy, involved things. Of course, I am the first one to acknowledge the wonderful march of technology and timers on cameras. Rig 'em up, set them to click and you have ten seconds or so to scoot into the best pose. But you see honey, I don't believe you can get into position in ten seconds in many of them.'

Isabel gulped.

'Someone took these, right? There was you, her and someone else behind the camera, directing the action.'

Isabel gulped again.

'So who do we think it is? Mr Gonzalez? Marco?'

Let's see... Mr Gonzalez perhaps. But when you had your birthday hair style, he was away. For three weeks I gather. Now how about Marco? Well, I could believe that. Young teenage boys are incredibly horny and would never say no to an opportunity like this. But then I got thinking.' The mother paused and smiled, enjoying this slow unraveling. 'Why did you go after Janey when she was kidnapped? After all, if you had access to her mom she was irrelevant, largely. Sure, the old bat would be upset and need consolation but hey, you'd probably have more time with her in the end. And you can do a whole lot of consoling with your eager little tongue burrowed in her asshole.'

Karen reached for her purse again and took out another print: a blow up of part of the first picture. 'You see dear, the march of technology hasn't quite got away from mirrors. See here, in the mirror on the wall behind you two lovebirds?' The woman pointed to a grainy, but clear, part of the enlargement. 'In here you can just see a reflection of someone taking the photo. Someone a whole lot like Janey.'

Isabel gasped.

'That was why you went after her, wasn't it? You needed to try and save her because she is the photographer. She knows what you and her mommy do exactly, doesn't she? She knows too much to be here and maybe talking too much.'

Isabel closed her eyes. She opened them with a jolt as her mother's finger slid back up against her little clit.

'Oh sweetie, I think you have been really stupid but we can gain from this. So now, I'm going to finger you and tell you exactly what we are going to do. It'll take me a few minutes to tell you, so I hope you cum nicely for me before I finish.'

Isabel simply whimpered in gratitude as the finger moved gently but rapidly.

'And then I will whip your sore arms, sweetcakes, with that cute little flogger. Just for trying to keep secrets.'

Isabel didn't care. She just moaned some more and kept her eyes on her mom's tits and the picture of Marguerite fingering and fondling and licking away.

---

'You're free,' said Marguerite Gonzalez, staring at her young lover.

'Hardly,' said Isabel. She tried to make a gesture, to show the woman the obvious chains holding the child's hands above her head and the cuffs on her wrists.

'No, but you're out.' Marguerite took a step forward, across the floor of the abandoned warehouse. 'I couldn't believe it when I heard from you and you said meet me here -'

'Don't come any closer!' Isabel snapped at the woman. 'That line on the floor. You're not allowed to come any nearer to me than that.'

The woman stared at the naked girl and then down at the white line painted on the crumbling, pitted floor. A fresh, clean line in a place that had long ago seen any color fade. 'But... who did that?'

'The people who brought me here to meet you,' said Isabel. 'They didn't exactly want me running away.' She shrugged and her chain clinked. 'And they didn't want you touching me. So you have to stay there. Uh, out of reach.'

Marguerite nodded and then shot an alarmed look round the otherwise deserted shell of a building. 'Are they here, the kidnappers?'

'Not far away,' confirmed the child. 'But they don't want you to see them.'

'Have they hurt you?'

'Yes. They're kidnappers, of course they have. They hurt girls like me. See my front? Can you see where they whipped me yesterday?'

Marguerite stood, clutching her purse, staring at the red marks that crossed the child's chest. More, older marks, on the front of Isabel's thighs. Even in the half-light of this place they were obvious. 'Oh, shit,' gasped the woman.

Isabel grunted. 'More than just oh, shit.'

'I've missed you,' said Marguerite, her voice barely above a whisper.

'I know. I miss you, too,' said Isabel. 'But we haven't got much time. I'm only allowed to be here for a few minutes.'

'I won't let them take you!'

The child sighed. 'I'm cuffed to a chain that is on a pulley up in the roof.'

The woman glanced up, into the darkness over them, seeing the old rusty chain disappear upwards out of sight.

'They'll haul me up in a few minutes and you'll be left standing here. So I don't have a lot of time. You got the copies of the photos they sent?'

Marguerite swallowed noisily. 'Yes,' she croaked. 'But how did they get them?'

'They beat it out of me,' said Isabel. 'So they want three hundred thousand dollars from you and they won't send them to your husband, your father-in-law and anyone else they can think of. They want the money in 48 hours.'

'I can't... I just haven't got that kind of money!'

'Marguerite, you'll be in real trouble and they'll torture me!'

'No. I won't let them.'

'You won't be able to stop them.'

The woman gulped. 'I can get some money. Not all of it, by Friday.'

'Thursday. Three hundred thousand,' said Isabel. There was a click and the chain tightened a little over the child's head, pulling her thin arms up straighter.

'I can't just-' the woman stopped as the chain over the girl clunked tighter.

'Time's almost up,' said Isabel.

'Listen! I need time!' Marguerite shouted up into the blackness above them, her voice echoing round the empty building. No answer.

Another noise, and Isabel was on her tiptoes. 'Marguerite, you have to help me.' The girl's voice was pained.

'But I have to get the ransom for Janey.' The woman suddenly realized she had forgotten about her daughter in the excitement of seeing her child-lover. 'They want a million for her!'

'Uhm... Me too,' gasped the child, her face contorted as another click from above hoisted the child off her straining toes. She kicked slightly, looking for a purchase for her feet but found none.

'No, Isabel!' the woman started forward over the white line. There was a rapid clicking and the naked girl was dragged suddenly upwards, so she hung a few feet above the woman's upreaching hands.

'Just get... the... money... 48... hours. Here,' gasped out the agonized voice of the child. Her legs flailed, her small sex - also showing signs of some harsh attention - flashed at the woman below.

More clanking, more clicking and the child disappeared up into the gloom above, feet kicking, her rear hole momentarily visible to the woman screeching below as the child rotated helplessly on her chain.

---

'You're good. You seem to have persuaded her,' smiled Isabel's mother as they drove away from the old warehouse. The child next to her on the back seat, bound up in a blanket and with her mouth taped over with flesh-colored tape, grunted in response.

'Though I think,' said Isabel's father from where he sat behind the wheel of the car, 'I would have kept you dangling longer over the woman. I hope you opened your legs to give her a show of what she's missing?'

Isabel glared at the man but nodded. Next the the child, the woman laughed. 'Oh, Isabel! You are precious - and so sexy when you are naked like that. I can see why Mrs G loved having you so much.'

'If we'd known we could have had some fun with you ourselves,' chortled the man in the front.

'Tom! We do not abuse our daughter,' growled Karen as she frowned at the man so he could see her in the mirror. 'What do you think we are?'

The man shrugged but looked crestfallen.

They drove back to the gang's headquarters in silence, though the mother was more interested in reaching inside Isabel's blanket and feeling for her daughter's little cunny out of sight of her cowed husband.

---

'Marco! Marco! Over here!'

The voice from the bushes by the side of the sidewalk caught the teenage boy's attention. He stopped and turned towards the shadowy figure.

'Marco... over here, it's me! Isabel!'

'Isabel?' The boy gaped. 'But you're... you're supposed to be kidnapped.'

The face of the girl he mostly knew as his sister's friend emerged a little from the shrubbery. 'I escaped,' she whispered urgently. 'But I can't be seen.'

'What?' The boy stared at the girl beckoning him.

'Come in here, with me. I have to stay out of sight.'

Marco followed the girl deeper into the bushes, into a small clearing. 'How did you escape? I mean, Janey's still being held someplace... did she escape too?' he looked the girl up and down. She was wearing her school clothes and they were torn and soiled, her hair disheveled.

'No, I couldn't get her out.' Isabel screwed her face up in the pain of failure. 'I tried but... I barely got out myself.'

The boy nodded but still looked confused. 'But why are you hiding in here? The police would make sure you wouldn't -'

'I can't go to the police,' gasped Isabel, looking desperate. 'They're in on it too. That was what I found out. That's why they don't succeed in catching these kidnappers.'

'Uh-huh.' The boy didn't sound entirely convinced. 'Then if not the cops, go home.'

'I daren't. The police are watching my mom's house 'cos they think I'll go there, now I've escaped. I need somewhere they aren't watching.'

Marco scratched his head. 'I dunno... I guess you could hole up in the room above our garage. For a short time.'

'You'd help me? Oh thankyou!' Isabel looked thrilled. 'I knew I could rely on you Marco.'

'Okay. I just have to, you know, go and get it ready. You'll have to wait here. Um, make sure no one sees you.'

'Oh sure. I'll keep out of sight, I promise. Just don't keep me waiting too long.'

The boy gave his sister's friend a cautious smile and disappeared through the foliage.

Good, thought Isabel. The plan's working.

---

'Master,' said Marco hesitantly. 'I have something to tell you.'

'Be quiet, slave,' grunted the man who was tying the naked boy's arms behind him. 'Or do you want your gag early?'

'No.' The boy glanced at the large, ring gag on the table next to where he was kneeling. 'I wouldn't speak if it wasn't important,' said Marco, trying to look up at the considerably older man who was busying himself.

'Oh, if you must,' sighed the old man, straightening himself now that he bound the teenager's elbows together. 'You know, sometimes I think I'm getting too old for this.' Then he gave a grin at seeing the teenager's cock jutting out hard and his little, hard nipples. 'But perhaps I'm at an age when I appreciate you all the more. Okay, so what is so important to stop me tying you up?'

'There's something that happened. At home.'

The old man snorted. 'Don't tell me that father and mother of yours have done something useful for once?'

'No. It's just that I took a girl in.'

'A girl?' the man's eyes widened. 'What the hell do you want with a female?'

'Nothing. I wouldn't touch a girl! Only she's a friend of my sister. She was kidnapped at the same time as Janey. But she says she escaped but can't go home as the police are on the side of the kidnappers and are looking for her. So I hid her, in the room over the garage at my house. But I don't know what to do. That's why I came right over. To ask you.'

The old man laughed. 'And I thought you'd come to suck my cock because you couldn't wait for Saturday.' He sobered up. 'Well, this is an interesting turn of events.'

'Um, master -'

'Hush! You may not be gagged but I don't need you to speak all the time.' The old man settled back in the chair he had placed in front of the kneeling boy, the place he sat when the tied teenager was required to crane forward and fellate the old man's thin dick. 'I need to think about this.'

Marco waited, watching the old man pick up the cruel ring gag and twirled it in his fingers while he thought about what the boy had said. Marco's knees were hurting, despite the luxurious carpet under his knees, and the rope round his elbows was dragging his shoulders back painfully. But he wisely didn't speak, much less complain. In the hallway of the large house, the grandfather clock chimed gently.

Presently the old man in his silk dressing gown sat forward. 'It is obvious that the girl is lying. I have heard of no escape: my gang wouldn't allow it. Plus, of course the police are in on these kidnaps, but my contact at the station has said nothing about any surveillance. I have to decide why this girl is doing this.

'I can only assume she wants somehow to benefit financially, perhaps even lure you into a kidnap.' The man suddenly bellowed a laugh. 'But I haven't sanctioned it. Why would I kidnap my own grandson when I get what I want already?'

Marco looked at his grinning grandfather and wanted to add: 'And when you make so much from all the kidnaps that go on?' But he thought better of it. Slaves aren't supposed to know about such things. The handsome young boy - the spitting image of his wealthy grandfather everyone said - shook his head at the old man's rhetorical question. He opened as wide as he could for the ring gag offered to him and kept his head forward while his grandfather fastened the strap tightly.

'Ah well, I shall call a few people, have the girl removed forcibly. I expect her parents would like to pay a ransom for her. But first, my pleasure...' Marco's grandfather swept his robe open and flipped his cock out. It was almost erect and the boy bent forward to take it in his mouth through the ring gag.

---

'Thankyou for paying for me, mom,' said Janey as they drove from the place where the cash had been handed over. The child glanced back at the disused warehouse. 'It was creepy in there, hanging on that chain, waiting for you to come.'

'It's okay, sweetheart,' soothed Marguerite. She cuddled her daughter and glanced at her husband driving. 'Daddy and I raised the money as quickly as we could. I'm just sorry you had to be held by the kidnappers for so long. Did they hurt you much?'

'Mostly it was whipping and tying me up in different ways. I didn't mind...' She caught a warning glance from her father in the mirror and didn't say any more, other than adding. 'I mean, it hurt and I didn't like it, but the cold showers were the worst.'

'Oh poor angel,' sighed Marguerite.

'But safe now.' The man driving had a small smile on his face that only his daughter saw in the mirror. A smile only she understood.

Janey felt that little buzz she did when her daddy had that look. Usually a signal for those secret bondage games of theirs that mommy must never know about. She wriggled a little in her seat in anticipation of being licked out once more while bound and gagged.

'Your butt sore, honey?' asked the mother, concerned at her daughter's movement.

'Uh, just a few whip marks. It'll be okay.' The girl fell quiet and sank back into her mom's arms. Then she sat up. 'But, what about my friend Isabel? Have her mom and dad got the money for her?'

'Not that I know,' said the man driving. 'But I heard they'd been arrested. Taken away yesterday.'

'Why?' asked the girl.

'Seems they were bad people, trying to blackmail someone,' sighed the girl's mother.

'Who?'

'We don't know. It seems the police were tipped off by someone over some unknown photos. Marco said Grandfather knows someone at the police station and they took care of it.'

'Wow. So that means Isabel might have to stay in the kidnapper's prison for... ages!'

'I expect so,' said Marguerite. 'But don't you worry your pretty head about her. You're safe with me and daddy now.'

'Yes,' said Janey, smiling. After so long being held by those bad kidnappers with all their ropes and chains and gags she'd knew lots of bondage positions for her daddy to try on her. Suddenly she was aware her mother was looking at her in an intense way. That certain way.

A look that meant more lesbian sessions, too. Though without Isabel there to do all the licking it wouldn't be quite as much fun.

---

Isabel stood in the middle of the large room. The young girl's legs tied tightly together, arms were bound behind her, hands forced up to her neck so her ass was unprotected - as indeed were her cute, small tits. Vulnerable to a thrashing, as she well knew. In fact, her back and ass still stung from the latest thrashing.

Had she been able to look down properly she would have seen evidence of when her belly and thighs were whipped two days ago. But then, that was how they liked to alternate her suffering here: beating her back one day, front the next. A ritual, really.

Her stomach and chest and front of her legs would be soundly beaten this time. But one more stroke than yesterday - she remembered today would be seventeen. Sixteen on her back yesterday, fifteen on her front the day before that.

Only Sunday was different, she had learned. Bound on her face on a bench by the wall, her feet exposed so her soles could be beaten with a stick. That meant Monday was the hardest, having to stand on her sore feet irrespective of her other thrashings. Funny too that Sunday was the non-gag day, so she was free to scream and beg and cry.

And take that revolting cock up her back hole.

But no matter how she protested or cried, no one heard her in this place. Other than the man who hurt her. Used her.

It was of course lonely just standing like this, unable to move. Even if there had been anyone else in the room she would have been unable to communicate thanks to the large, painful gag she wore. Even the kidnappers didn't have them quite this big or this painful. A ball gag with spikes - now that did hurt the first time it was pushed into her mouth.

Being like this did give Isabel time to think about people she knew. She wondered, as she frequently did, where her mother and father were. Why had they suddenly disappeared, why was there no message? Was this part of a bigger plan they had to get more money and they'd come and get her soon? Or had they got scared and left the area, leaving their daughter behind? Did they miss her?

More, did Marguerite miss her little lover? Did Mrs Gonzalez fondly look through those wonderful photos of her and Isabel having sex and sigh for those days again?

And what of Janey? Was she still with the kidnappers, still blubbering not to be whipped and played with and tortured? Or had her mom and dad found the money and set her free?

Isabel shook her head as best she could and sighed. There was so much to know and no one to tell her.

But there were consolations. She was warm and dry, well fed, comfortably tied and thoughtfully punished for the most part. The house was large and airy, and through the window on the far side of the room she could see trees and sky and in the distance, mountains. It was almost a pleasure to be a prisoner here.

She listened to the sounds of the house. But mostly the old man who owned it was quiet, though she was sure sometimes she heard other voices - male voices - and a sound of a whip being used.

That and the gentle chiming of an old grandfather clock.