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Under The Hood free porn video
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WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website. You must obtain the author's permission
prior to posting.
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Under The Hood
by Night Owl
Posted: 3/04
(Story Content: M/f, Abduction, Bondage, Rape)
I don't know why I'm telling you this story, especially now, four years after the incident happened. Maybe it's because the horrible secret that I've harbored for so long has finally taken its toll on me, and by writing to you, I can somehow relieve this burden of guilt and set my mind at ease. I often look back on that day and wonder what possessed me to commit such an act. Perhaps it was a form of temporary insanity, or an act of delirium induced by poison from the exhaust fumes.
But now I'm getting ahead of myself. Why don't I start from the very beginning and let you, the reader, judge for yourself.
As I've said before, the incident occurred four years ago to this very day. I was on my way back to Chicago from a business meeting in Portland, when I decided to take a tour and see some of the New England countryside. If I had time, I wanted to drive down to Pennsylvania. I heard the autumn leaves there were spectacular. Somewhere along the way I had taken a wrong turn and gotten myself lost, although I was too stubborn to admit it at the time. You see, I'm one of those millions of men who are convinced they have a working compass in their heads. I continued to wander aimlessly, making a turn here and there, trying to find by bearings through a maze of back country roads that criss-crossed each other every mile or so. It wasn't long before I found myself driving down a lonely strip of crumbling blacktop bordered by a thick wall of trees. To make matters worse, I had passed the last gas station about twenty miles back and my gauge was now on empty. I finally pulled my map out of the glove compartment to see if I could figure out where I was; something I should have done long before.
I continued to struggle with the map while half-listening to a news report on the radio. I remember hearing something about another disappearance in the area. It was a woman, I don't remember her name, but I believe it was the third one that month. What finally caught my full attention to the story was when the reporter said that she was traveling the same route I was on, that is, before I got lost. She was described as being 5'-8", approximately 110 lbs., with blue eyes and long blond hair. She was last seen driving a black Jeep Wrangler with Minnesota license plates.
"Too bad," I thought, she sounded very attractive.
My attention quickly went back to deciphering the map, when suddenly the engine began to sputter and stall. I could do nothing but look helplessly at my dashboard as the car coasted to a stop.
"Damn it!" I was out of gas.
I climbed out of the car and looked around for any homes nearby. All I saw within eyesight was a rusty mailbox and a gravel drive that disappeared into a thicket of trees. I walked up to the mailbox and looked at it, but there was no name, not even a street number. Judging from the weeds covering the drive, I began to suspect that I wasn't going to find anyone living there. Unfortunately it was the only mailbox in sight, so I decided to check it out. I remember it was a little chilly that day. The sky was a uniform gray, and the air thick and damp from the heavy rainstorm that had moved through the area earlier that morning. I wrapped my coat a little tighter and continued on. I had to walk almost a quarter of a mile before I approached a wooden gate shrouded in a tangle of weeds and vines. That was about the time I first heard the noise. It sounded like some type of machinery. My hopes were running high now. I passed through the gate and continued up the drive. A slight bend in the road brought me in sight of a large old house.
It didn't take an experienced carpenter to see that the place was in serious disrepair. The white paint was cracking and peeling off the siding in several places, and it appeared as though the windows hadn't been cleaned in years. For some reason the sight of it made me feel a little uneasy. The machine noise was coming from the direction of the garage nearby, so I decided to skip the house and see if I could find anyone there. As I walked up a steep grade I began rehearsing what I was going to say, not looking forward to the reaction I would get after telling this person that I had run out of gas. The garage door was closed but the noise was definitely coming from inside. It sounded like a car engine. I walked around to the side of the building and peered into the window.
I was right about the noise, but I was not prepared for what I saw. Leaning over the open hood of the vehicle was a very attractive woman, wearing what appeared to be a summer bikini. Much of her upper body was concealed by the hood, but my observation was unmistakable.
"Good God she must be cold!" I whispered out loud.
She seemed to be working on something near the back of the engine. What alarmed me was that she had closed the garage door, and the engine was still running. I could clearly smell the exhaust. The woman obviously didn't have enough sense to realize how dangerous this was!
I raced around to the front and pounded on the garage door. There was no answer. I tried the latch, but it was locked from the inside. Then I saw a door to the left that I hadn't noticed before. I tested the doorknob and found it unlocked. Hoping I wasn't too late, I swung the door open and went inside. The noise of the engine was deafening. I made my way through the exhaust fumes to the front of the garage dodging various obstacles along the way. When I reached the woman, my heart jumped. Just as I thought, she was wearing a tiny string bikini bottom that just barely covered her in back. She was still reaching into the gaping engine compartment. Apparently she didn't hear me enter the garage. Her long blonde hair covered her face as she leaned over the grill and parts of her body were smudged with grease. The sight of this beauty reminded me of those automobile pin-up calendars so often displayed in service station garages. She was wearing black high heels, but she still had to stand on her toes in order to reach into the engine. Then I noticed an odd glint of metal on her ankle. It appeared to be some type of ankle bracelet.
I tried to announce my presence by clearing my throat, but the motor was too loud. Feeling a little awkward, I then slowly approached the vehicle, hoping I wouldn't startle her. What happened next made me stop dead in my tracks. She turned her head and looked at me, wide eyed with panic. Her cheeks were puffed out by a red rubber ball filling her mouth and held in tightly with a black leather strap. It was then that I realized this woman was not working on the engine, but chained to it! Her arms were extended outward like a V to the back of the engine compartment and handcuffed to the opposite corners. Her long legs were also spread wide apart and fastened with ankle cuffs to something underneath the front bumper. She was topless and her pert, round breasts were hanging down almost into the engine itself, where fan, pulley, and belts were spinning at high speed. The poor girl's body was stretched tightly over the engine with barely enough room to arch her back and keep her breasts clear of the fast moving engine parts. Then I noticed something familiar about the vehicle she was chained to. It was a black, hardtop Jeep Wrangler with Minnesota license plates, the same one described on the radio in connection to that woman's disappearance.
She tried to speak to me through the gag, begging me to take some action. Her breasts swayed and dangled dangerously close the spinning fan. I saw something flash through the belts and pulleys. It appeared to be the torn remains of her bikini top, but I wasn't sure. There was a momentary ping as the fan blade just barely clipped the bottom curve of one of her breasts. She screamed into the gag. I looked around the garage, but there seemed to be nothing at hand to cut her metal bindings. I could see the exhaust climbing to the ceiling now and the stench was overwhelming. I knew the open side door wouldn't provide enough ventilation to eliminate the danger of breathing in the fumes, so I had to work fast. The woman started to cough through the gag. She seemed to be loosing her strength to keep herself clear of the spinning engine.
I quickly moved to the side of the jeep and reached for the door on the driver's side, but it was locked. I considered breaking the window, when I noticed the door on the other side was un-locked. I rushed to the other side and wedged myself in between the jeep and the wall. Then I pulled the door open as far as its proximity to the wall would permit and tried to squeeze myself in, but there wasn’t enough room. I heard another metallic ping and saw the helpless woman lurch in pain again. Cursing, I pulled myself back out and slammed the door shut. With great effort, I managed to slide forward to the passenger side of the engine.
Sweat was rolling off the woman's body and the tips of her blonde hair were singed. The heat from the engine compartment must have been unbearable! She cried as she struggled desperately with the glittering restraints around her wrists, not realizing that she was now pushing her nipples closer to the moving fan blade. I thrust one hand past her left armpit and into the engine compartment, feeling for wires. Twice I burned myself on one hot part or another. The woman's face was streaked with tears. She was chewing at the ball gag in an effort to speak. I began grabbing at all the hoses and wires I could find. Finally there was a hissing noise, then the engine choked and sputtered to a stop.
I reached along the woman's outstretched arm to try and free her wrist, but the handcuffs were locked securely to the engine frame. I had to find something that would cut through the chains. There was a toolbox on the worktable at the opposite end of the garage, but I needed to slide behind the woman to get to it. Slowly, I wedged myself between her and the back wall. The front of my body was pressing against her round buttocks when an arousing tingle suddenly passed through my loins. The woman seemed only semi-conscious now. Her body was limp. I grasped her hips in an effort to help myself slide past her and I became almost instantly erect. I felt my penis pressing through my trousers into the cleavage between her ass cheeks. Suddenly, wave of lust overcame me. Looking around nervously, I was only half-aware of my own hands grabbing for her bikini bottom and swiping it down with one motion past her hips. I fought with my own pants to free myself. For one brief moment I almost had the strength to stop what I was about to do, but then my erection slid perfectly between the young woman's thighs. She was already wet and slippery there. A soft moan of protest came from her gagged mouth as I felt myself slowly penetrate her. I reached around and grasped her dangling breasts and used them as leverage to pull myself deeper inside her. She moaned again. Soon I was thrusting rhythmically into her warm, soft bent over body. She gasped weakly with each thrust. Her forehead was resting on the warm manifold and her arms hung limply against the greasy engine parts. The exhaust burned my nostrils with every deep breath. I felt myself stir and suddenly with one final thrust, I felt the warmth of my release spill into her womb. I was already shaken as I removed myself, and quickly pulled my pants back up.
What had I done?
Instead of saving her, I raped this poor young woman. I felt dizzy and my head began to throb. The air was poisoning my lungs and I was suddenly overcome by a desperate need to survive. I pushed past her to the garage door and fumbled with the handle. When the latch released, the door raised up by itself, pulled by cables and springs. The cool air immediately flooded in and began evacuating the toxic fumes. I stumbled outdoors and broke into a full run to the woods. I didn't get far before I had to rest. Then the ground spun up to meet me. Everything converged into a dull muffled blackness, and I passed out.
I woke up an hour later in the woods. My head was still pounding. I wanted to believe that I had awoken from a bad dream, but the harsh reality crept back in as I slowly stood up. Fear and shame overwhelmed my urge to go back and check on the woman. After all, how could I face her after what I did?
Even worse, what if she was dead?
I quickly walked down the drive; not once did I look back. As I approached the road I realized the car was still out of gas. I cursed myself for not stopping at that gas station. I cursed myself for a lot of things that day.
I decided to get what I needed from the car and keep walking, to where, I didn't know. I just wanted to get the hell away from this place. The car was still sitting where I had left it, but I saw something that almost made me trip in mid-step. Sitting on the hood was a red 2-gallon container of gas. There was a note taped to the handle. I looked around nervously but there appeared to be no one in sight. Then I took the note and unfolded it. The dark print seemed to leap at me off the paper.
"I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE WOMAN. NOW LEAVE, AND DON’T GO TO THE POLICE!"
I dropped the note and quickly filled my tank with gas. My hands were shaking so bad, I could barely hold the container. Then I sat behind the wheel and, with a prayer, turned the ignition. The car engine sputtered at first, then turned over. Quickly I put it in gear, turned the car around and sped down the road in the direction from which I had come.
I never returned there again, nor did I ever inquire about the missing woman. The truth is, I couldn't bring myself to even try. I would like to think that she survived that horrible ordeal, somehow, in spite of my leaving her. I really hope that’s what happened...
...for her sake and mine.
End
Jane
- 06.11.2021
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