She said, "What's…?" Then he hit her. It was a perfect shot, right on the button. Just hard enough. She made a sort of grunting sound and collapsed, sprawling along the seat.

Pete shoved her over. It only took a second. With both hands he pushed her and she was like a wet rag. He folded her into the corner, long legs apart, the maxi billowing. He got in, scooping up the keys from the floor, and slammed the door. Another second.

Key in the ignition, turned, the engine caught and roared. His foot was too fucking heavy on the pedal, he was just a little nervous. Take it easy. But he'd never kidnapped a cunt before.

Pete spun the car in a tight circle, heading for the street. Braking hard at the street, the girl slid down even further. She was limp as Casey's pecker. Man, limp! No bones at all. He swung the car into the street. Nothing to it. Nothing hell! He tried to relax.

He headed over the bridge to Queens, maybe two miles more. Then he swung off the main drag and went south for five minutes to the warehouse district. He pulled up on a nice quiet dark street and killed the engine. The girl was making sounds. She was beginning to come to. He hauled her up onto the seat, then slipped the scarf from around her neck and twisted it into a gag.

She was woozy enough to let him put the gag in place and knot it behind her head. He tied her hands behinoHier back with his belt.

Then he investigated her tits.

When she felt his hands on them she came awake and began to struggle. Pete chuckled, seeing the gleam of her eyes, listening to her angry, wordless sounds. He ripped buttons off, getting his hand inside the thin blouse. Firm, lush tits. He cupped them and bounced them, oh yeh! She was wearing a flimsy skimpy bra; snapping the shoulder straps, he yanked it down. He squeezed her tits and rolled them around in his hands.