Kidnapped By Johnnie and Jake

Drowning

Later that day, we set out returning home.

During the car trip, I'd asked Johnnie if he could get Sam or Colby to own Tara, so that she could be safe, but he'd said it wouldn't be possible. Jake would've felt disrespected if Sam or Colby took his used goods. And neither Sam or Colby would ever degrade themselves by taking Jake's seconds either. The only reason it had happened with me was because Johnnie had passed me onto Jake out of anger, but it wasn't like Jake actually ended up using me.

When we arrived home, I peeked into the lounge room, and was appalled to see Kaycee sat on Jake's knee with a studded collar around her neck, and a leash attached to it, which Jake was holding. And her clothes had become even more provocative than before. This time, she wasn't even wearing booty shorts, she was just in a thong, and a little tight bra made out of cotton as thin as half a sheet of toilet paper.

She smiled when she saw me, as if there was nothing strange about her appearance at all. "Brooke!" She leaned forward like she was about to come over to greet me, but Jake gave a little tug on her leash, and she settled back down, her booty cheeks spreading either side of his leg.

I didn't really know what to say to her, to be honest. I was quite speechless. "Hi, Kaycee," I mumbled, before heading down to the basement.

Tara was led down amongst the blankets on the floor when I entered the room. At first, I thought she was asleep, but when she noticed me come in, she sat up, and a smile spread across her face. "Hey! I'm so glad to see you."

"Tara, I'm so glad to see you, too," I said as I sat down beside her and gave her a hug.

"Have you seen Kaycee?" she asked, and I knew instantly that she was referencing Kaycee's new attire.

"Yeah...Tara, you should be glad that Jake ditched you. He and Kaycee are so weird together. You could've ended up like that."

Tara laughed. "I never would have ended up like that. I'd rather kill myself."

"I think just seeing Kaycee like that is making me want to kill myself."

She laughed again. "Last night was so lonely. Without you, and without...Jake."

Suddenly, guilt pooled up inside of me. I was on good terms with Johnnie again...so I didn't know if I was going to be rejoining Tara in the basement. "I wish Peppa was still here."

"Your friend?" she said.

"Yeah...I miss her. You would've loved sleeping down here with her. She was so sweet. She would've listened to all of your problems, and never grown fed up with comforting you."

"She sounds like she was lovely. I don't know how I would be able to live in the same house as Johnnie if I was you, after what he did." She shook her head sympathetically. "I'd want to tear him apart. It must be so difficult."

I felt even more guilty then. I had kind of already forgiven Johnnie. Well, I hadn't forgiven him for killing Peppa, I could never do that. But, I knew that there was more to Johnnie than the murderous part of him. He was a three-dimensional being, and I just couldn't bring myself to hate every other part of him. "Yeah, um...about that. Johnnie might be making me sleep in his room again tonight," I said, making sure I emphasised the 'making me' bit so that Tara wouldn't think I was doing it by choice.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, girl. It'll be okay, I promise." She smiled sadly at me.

"Yeah, don't worry about me...he seemed in a good mood today."

*

Later, when it was nearing nighttime, Johnnie came down to the basement and stood in the doorway. I'd decided to stay with Tara as long as possible—I knew that if Johnnie really wanted to see me, he'd come and get me. "Brooke. Come here." I followed him obediently and he took me upstairs and into his room. I sat shyly on the edge of his bed. "Why have you been avoiding me?" he demanded.

"I-I haven't. I've just been with Tara. She's unhappy."

"From now on, you follow me around. I shouldn't have to come and chase you up every time I want to see you. Did I not spend the whole night at Isaac's place for you, when I didn't have to?"

"What? Johnnie, the other day you told me I'm Jake's bitch now."

"For God's sake, Brooke," he snapped. "Don't be so fucking stupid. That was ages ago, and you know it's been different since then."

"Don't be so angry," I pleaded. "Earlier, you were being nice."

Johnnie laughed at me now. "You think I'm nice?"

I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of the response which would cause him to be most calm, but he spoke again before I had time to decide.

"Lie down on the fucking bed," he ordered.

I slowly led down and watched him go and grab something from inside a drawer. My heart raced as I thought about the fact that he didn't know I'd heard him say he cared about me this morning. I supposed that, upon hearing it, my perception of how he'd been acting was probably nicer than what he'd presented me with. In his mind, he was still the old Johnnie to me.

Once he found what he needed, he came over to me. He held me down and placed a rag over my face, and began pouring water onto it. At first, I felt confused, but then, after a few seconds, when I realised it wasn't stopping, I began to panic. I felt as though I was drowning, and started to struggle to get away, but he climbed on top of me and held my neck down with one strong hand.

"Johnnie!" I yelled quickly, allowing water to fall into my mouth, but he didn't relent. I tried to knee him away, but he was too focused on watching me suffer at his hands.

The water was seeping into my nose, too, and there was no time to pause and blow it out, because I was held there as the water just kept on running.

After a long minute of torture, I felt him pull down my pants and smack his member against me. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured darkly. I nodded, and then he entered me, and began thrusting hard.

The relief from the waterboarding was blissful. I coughed a few times, and started to take long, deep, clear breaths of air again as Johnnie pumped back and forth. Soon, my breaths turned into soft moans, as the feeling became too much.

"Let's see your beautiful face," Johnnie murmured as he removed the wet rag from me. He smoothed one hand lovingly over my wet face, and looked me in the eyes as he moved harshly. "You fuck me up," he said, and met my lips with his.

I kissed him back. I wanted every part of him. And it hurt, because I didn't want to want him. I should despise him. He killed my friend, he kidnapped me, he tortured me. But, I couldn't help the fact that it made me want him more.

I smothered his lips, feeling the coldness of his piercings, and the warmth and strength of his body on mine. He then kissed my neck, and I went to put my hands in his hair, but he grasped both my wrists and held them down beside me.

Soon, he couldn't even look at me. He was facing the ceiling, and he thrusted harder and harder. I cried out in both pain and pleasure as he made my whole body move up and down. Then, we both finished.