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Message-ID: <31392asstr$994918205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: timidt@NS_hotmail.com (Timid)
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Vanishing Point Part 10 (M/ff, B and D, Kidnap)
Date: Thu, 12 Jul 2001 02:10:05 -0400
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                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER
                                     ===================

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and 
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is
found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author.

The authors explicitly prohibits.

1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form. 

2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express 
    permission.

3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the
    written permission of the author.

This work is copyright TM Quin and timidt 2000

All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to 
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.

Timid and Quin 2000

  timidt@hotmail.com                           tmquin@attglobal.net
*****************************************************************

		Vanishing Point Part 10 (Elizabeth)
	===================================
 	
      My mind still was having trouble comprehending the events of
      the past twenty-four hours. First seeing Keith and
      Ruth....together, screwing like there was no tomorrow. And
      then...then to get abducted, raped, tied in a chair with that
      ridiculous tape playing in my ears all night. Even seeing that
      sick woman Thelma dressed up like me. And they think that's
      going to work? These people are crazy...insane.

      But then, then, to see the coffin he wanted to enclose me in. A
      box, the space so small, so very small. I started to tremble,
      cry. I could feel the hysteria creeping up inside me.....

      Elizabeth faded away. Again. Hiding like she always has from
      the unpleasantness and pain. She looked at Master Ben with fear
      and pain in her eyes. She felt him removing the gag, loosening
      it and pulling it slowly from her mouth. His eyes were
      merciless, if curious.

      Swallowing, moistening her lips, Elizabeth spoke haltingly.
      "Oh, God, Please....you can't. I'll do anything...pay you
      anything. Just no...you can't put me in there. Oh, god no...you
      can't. I can't. Please...oh, god please...." She babbled on and
      on, gibberish, begging, pleading.

      Ben looked at her somewhat dispassionately, curiousity creeping
      into his eyes. "If you're good, it won't be forever. Not if
      you're good. But, I have to do this now. And you have to learn
      that what your master says, goes. It's a hard lesson, Liz. A
      very hard lesson. But you will learn it." He bent to lift her
      into small space.

      Elizabeth twisted, turned, struggled. Ben found it hard to keep
      a grip on her sweating damp skin. With a sharp slap to her
      cheek, he tried to subdue her. But Elizabeth fought like a
      caged animal. A high, keening wail emanated from deep inside
      her. Fearing someone would hear, Ben threw her harshly to the
      floor of the camper, slapping his hand on her mouth. Fumbling
      in a nearby drawer, he pulled out a prepared syringe, jabbing
      it into her arm.

      *****************************

      When she awoke, Elizabeth was in the box. She could feel the
      tubes that handled her most basic functions. Everywhere was
      dark. She knew not even if her eyes were open or closed. All
      that existed was her mind, and the memories. Long buried
      memories that forced their way through the layers of her
      subconscious.

      I tried to shake myself. Mentally slapping myself back into
      reality. I couldn't run away, not any longer. I laid my head
      down and tried to sleep.... to forget....to plan.

      The dreams came soon. Ruth as a child. The golden child. Always
      the favorite. The baby of the family. At 13, she had been the
      most popular girl in her class. At 15, she was the most popular
      girl in school. I was always in her shadow, it seemed. Even
      being two years older, I still followed in her light, no one
      noticing me.

      I was scared of Ruth. Terrified of Ruth. I still remembered
      when Grandmother died. And in my dream the day came back with a
      reality I couldn't bear. I was ten, Ruth was eight. The dream
      played back the memory with a vividness I could hardly bear,
      but I slept on. The funeral home with my parents, looking at
      the caskets. We'd wandered a bit away and, before I knew it, we
      were off in another room by ourselves. Ruth mischievously
      climbed into one of the satin lined coffins and smiled and
      giggled. "Look," she laughed. "It's like a bed! Try it, Lizzie.
      Try one!" I didn't want to. But I did. I couldn't let my baby
      sister show me up.

      So, I climbed into one. And laid down. And felt the softness
      envelope me. Closing my eyes a moment, I imagined what it would
      be like for Grandmother to be here for the rest of
      eternity....forever. Then I felt more than saw the lid
      descending, heard the minute clicks as it was locked. And I was
      entombed in the satiny softness of the casket. By Ruth. From a
      distance, I could hear her giggling.

      I pounded and screamed. But it was hours before I was found.
      Hours trapped there.

      With a start, I jerked awake. I remembered. Remembered it all.
      And I hated Ruth more than ever. I had never told anyone what
      had really happened. It had been put down to a silly accident
      and never spoken of and I forgot. And that was when my drifting
      off had begun, looking in on my life instead of living it. That
      was the moment Elizabeth was born.

      And the present coffin remained. The padding was soft, the
      restraints bearably tight. The inflatable gag in my mouth, the
      tubes and catheters. I closed my eyes, again (were they ever
      open?) and drifted off to sleep.

      Liz was nude save for a breif strip of fabric stretched tightly
      across her nipples and chest. Her breasts swelled becomingly
      above and below the strip. Her arms, encased in windings upon
      windings of rope, were stretched high above her head. Her feet,
      in five inch heels buckled snugly to her feet, were spread wide
      and tied to rings in the floor. Her head was hanging down, her
      hair covering her face. No response to the opening of the door.
      No reaction to the sudden touch of her belly.

      "Look at me, Liz," the voice was soft and kind. "Open your eyes
      and look at me. I'm doing what's best for you. you know that."
      Liz felt the fingers gently running along her slit, teasing her
      opening and massaging her clit. Involuntarily, she felt herself
      responding, the juices beginning to flow. With a sigh, she
      lifted her head, the hair falling back to free her vision.
      There, before her, stood Keith, his eyes filled with love and
      caring. His arm was around her, holding her tightly while his
      other hand gently teased her making her gasp and moan.

      His gentle voice in her ear. "You're mine now. You are a slave.
      You are nothing but a slut. You are...." And he became Ben
      tormenting her, teasing her, pushing her over the edge into
      orgasm.

**************************************************

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from the return address.

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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