Part 1

The procurer known as The Taker watched her crossing the playing field.

Bridget Thomas’ smile shone amid the high school prom class like a beautiful crescent moon in the night sky. Even from across the playing field he could see it. Her natural blond hair was bouncing down to the center of her back. He studied her slim, sleek, shapely figure, dark blue eyes, her proud, prodigious chest, and her happy, bright, fresh face.

Although some of the mean girls -- with their fake tits, inflated lips, and raccoon eyes -- might disagree, she was clearly the prettiest girl in her school, and certainly the most unaffected. She was the kind of girl everyone liked, even if they were jealous, and her smile made everyone feel good. She was the kind of girl who was avidly sought by both the track team and the cheerleading squad.

He knew that would happen the moment he first glimpsed her five years before. Yeah, Taker was that kind of procurer: a lone wolf, in it for the long haul – the kind who could obsess, stalk, and plan with seemingly infinite patience. Until she had grown to five foot seven, and developed into her 34D, 23, 34 inch shape. Until he was ready to strike. Until tonight.

Wow, he thought, surprised. She was obviously planning to make a hell of a last impression. She wore a form-fitting black velvet prom minidress, complete with a v-neck gripping-cup bodice—the kind that gathered up the balls of her breasts and presented them like a mitten holding ice cream mounds. Suffice to say that these scoops were filled to overflowing with high, firm, gelatinous balls of creamy white.

From there the black velvet swooped down across a flat stomach and swept down to hug creamy thighs of her perfect teenage legs, encased in silky, slightly shiny, bone-colored, lace-topped thigh-high stockings. Then, seemingly just to corroborate his assessment, she wore matching black velvet high heels—a breath-taking four inches high.

He realized that it was those things that kept her from hurrying from her handed-down, used car in the adjoining parking lot. She was not usually the four-inch high heel or thigh-high kind of girl, nor the sort who would spotlight her great chest, body and legs in so obvious a fashion. He smiled, remembering the long, high necked dress and sensible shoes she left her house with. She obviously had this underneath so as not to upset her parents.

Taker’s grin widened into a knowing sneer, and his eyes narrowed. He suddenly  regretted not staking out her car, so he could grab shots of her changing, but his regret was appeased with the realization that she obviously fully intended on losing her virginity tonight. And who was he to deprive her of that?

But any hint of his decision was not betrayed by his body. He remained stock still as she hurried as fast as she could on the toes of her shoes. He saw her skirt hem, hair, and chest flounce. He saw her sparkling eyes shift and expression change from searching to certainty. He saw her preparing to make her entrance.

He only moved as she passed the thatch of trees he was hiding in. He was willing to chance someone smoking outside the gym doors seeing something, but no one did ... especially with her trying to avoid the playing field’s lights so she could “surprise” her date and her class.

But her date and class would be left to think she had chickened out as he expertly cupped her lower face with the thick, padded, specially stitched, drug-soaked, amoeba-shaped cushion he had made just for her; clamped her own arms to her tight waist, then expertly yanked her back into the bushes with one tug. It happened fast: one second she was there, the next she was gone.

He felt her surprised yelp rather than heard it. It came through the thick, padded cloth and into his clamping hand from the cunningly designed muffler, which had padding that filled her mouth and nostrils as well as adhesive that sunk into her skin.

Yes, Taker was that kind of snatcher, too. His peers insisted on a tazer, medication patch, or even syringe to put their quarry out quickly, but Taker liked the struggle.

“I’ve seen your product,” he supposedly told them. “If mine looked like that, I’d knock ‘em out quick, too.”

He couldn't believe the sensations as he dragged the girl he now thought of as “his Bridget” to the ground atop him. She writhed as his legs snaked around hers, dragging them apart and down. Her hands flailed, but he kept his face tight on her neck while clamping the back of her head to his shoulder. For a few seconds they lay there, her writhing like a collie trying to scratch its back on the ground, as he stared down at her heaving breasts while imagining her shocked, terrified, confused face beneath the cloth. The images in his mind and eyes made him clamp his arms, legs, and hands even tighter over hers.

Without the drug, her youthful strength and vitality might have quickly broken his grip – he was, after all, not a young man – but, as her lovely scent filled his nostrils, his scent, the poisonous scent sopping the cloth, was already weighing down her limbs and disconnecting her brain from her exceptional body. He grew more excited as she grew increasingly weak.

She strained, she surged, she tried to kick and scream, but all she actually did was rub herself against him, her firm rear all but creating a bun for his hard-on. In less than twenty seconds, it was over. Bridget was unconscious.

He let her slide off him, savoring every feeling, then quickly looked down at her. What a beauty, he thought. Just turned eighteen, gloriously natural, with a straight, small nose and wide, curved, kissable mouth that hung adorably lax from perfect white teeth. In the form-fitting black velvet, she looked like a sexy bunny. He caught his breath: the attack had nearly pulled her little pink nipples from the dress and nearly exposed the tip of her g-string between her glorious thighs.

As much as he wanted to ravage her right there, he knew it was time to take her away. He pulled some pliant padding from his pocket and stuffed it into her mouth, then closed her lips with off-white sealant tape. Sitting her up, he cuffed her wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles with specially sized rubber-padded steel. Finally he hefted her up into his arms, turned, took a few steps, then slid her into the passenger seat of his car. It was parked just behind the thatch of trees he had so carefully scouted.

Slipping behind the wheel, he looked at her stimulating, captive form on the seat beside him: eyes closed, hair curtaining her sweet face, mouth sealed, arms wrenched behind her, and legs connected. He quickly and delightedly lowered her head onto his lap, started the engine, and carefully, casually drove down the parking lot driveway.

If he had taken a right, he could have quickly turned onto the thruway ramp. Instead, he took a left, and slowly drove past the school, complete with crossing guards and patrol cars. He nodded respectfully at the chaperones, proctors, and guards as he carefully followed their silent instructions and all posted signs.

He was pleased with himself that he only looked down once at the blond seated  beside him, her bound and gagged face squeezed tight against his erection.


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