Jon Reskind
The abducted bride

CHAPTER ONE

The smooth trim Marseille Express burrowed its way swiftly through the clear night of the French country side. A large pale summer moon hung low in the distance.

Kevin Taylor watched its shimmering light moving against the darkened ceiling of his sleeper compartment. It flickered hypnotically in unison to the rhythmic roll of the train beneath his bunk. Cool air from the open window played across his naked well built body which covered the whole of the narrow bed. He was alone.

Damn, he thought miserably, what a hell of a way to spend a honeymoon.

He drug deeply on the almost finished cigarette squeezed tightly between his thumb and forefinger. His brow was wrinkled in deep thought.

He had reason to think. Ahead of him in Marseille his bride was waiting after running out on him their first night together in Paris. Utter, utter stupidity, he grimaced, the details of their last hour together flickering through his mind like the reel of an old silent movie.

Perhaps he had been a little rough, but by God she had it coming to her. He had fought with her the entire year of their engagement about giving in to him and had tried to explain that virginity had gone out of style. Two people in love just didn't wait anymore for marriage, they relied on their love and trust and not some legal magic a ring was supposed to bring. She had not listened to him then and had even refused to discuss the matter though they had come close to making it together several times in the backseat of his car. She had always drawn the line just at the last minute. This was the part that had driven him crazy. He had come so close to possessing that luscious body so many times and had been left in frustration so many times that his control had been destroyed completely. He had even stopped parking with her when they had gone out on dates for fear of what he would have done.

With her conservative New England upbringing, she would never have consented to marry him if he had resorted to force and that's just what he would have done sooner or later. He did love her very much and didn't want to destroy their relationship by some uncontrollable act that he may have committed in the heat of passion. She was too fine a girl for that.

He had to admit, in her favor, that he had nothing else to complain about. She was almost perfection personified in all other respects. In fact, it was that perfection and his piled up frustrations that caused all the trouble back in Paris. That damn body was too perfect!

Things may still have been all right that first night if she hadn't insisted on taking a plane to Paris right after the ceremony. He would have preferred to stay in New York for a few days and take their time in getting to know each other. But, Jean had insisted on Paris immediately. That had meant sitting next to her on that fucking airplane for another seven hours. All that ran through his mind during the entire trip was, where he should hare been at that moment. After all, she had been stressing the ceremony all these months and that was over. She was legally his now and he still couldn't touch her.

It had just been too much. By the time they arrived at the hotel in the center of Paris he was almost out of his mind – and then – she had appeared in the bathroom door in that flimsy hip length nighty. He had gone crazy.

He could still see her standing there in the doorway, her body a lovely thing of art. He had seen her before in a bathing suit, but never like this. Every sensuous detail of her nakedness was lucidly clear, from her tiny rising nipples down to the soft triangle of pubic hair that nestled mysteriously below her white virginal belly.

Suddenly, nothing else had mattered but ramming his hard cock into that teasing flesh. She had become just a woman, a woman that he had to have right now at any cost. All else was forgotten.

"Like me, darling?" He could still hear ringing from her lips though now it seemed to have occurred centuries ago.

There had been no verbal response from him, he remembered dryly. He had just reached for her, a deep animal-like groan erupting from his throat, and pulled her roughly to the bed. Her soft covered negligee had ripped away like so much tissue paper.

"Be gentle, Kevin! Be gentle, please! P-Please!" Her voice had resounded through the room in terror as he held her down with one hand and ran the other greedily over the lush contours of her resisting young body, kneading her ripe succulent breasts cruelly beneath hands he no longer controlled. Tight fists of flesh protruded painfully in white bloodless ridges between his straining fingers. His head had dropped to the young budding nipples and chewed hungrily at their tips until he had felt the soft resilient flesh give way and the sweet taste of blood seeping onto his lashing tongue.

"No, darling. N-Nooo, please, not this way, not this way!" she had pleaded, but the words had rolled unheeded from her tortured lips.

He still had, in his madness held her wildly straining body tightly to the bed. She was imprisoned there by his heavy tensed chest that weighed upon her like a giant stone. Her long dark hair had begun thrashing helpless from side to side on the bed, her face contorted with terror. He could still remember bitterly, her dark eyes flashing wide in disbelief that this was happening to her. She had pleaded more until the sounds became nothing but incoherent mumbles of jumbled words. It was then he had fucked her the first time.

Ignoring the low moaning pleas, he had rolled on top her, catching her body as her long slim legs had scissored out in one last desperate effort to escape his brutal assault. His hips had fallen heavily between the full wide-splayed thighs, pinning her jerking buttocks tightly to the bed. The soft down of her pubic hair brushing teasingly against his throbbing cock, inciting him to incoherent mumblings of crazed uncontrollable lust.

The slow motion pictures of Jean's ravishment flickered on through his tortured mind as the express tunneled on ceaselessly through the night… His knees were holding hers wide apart now and he was grinding his pelvis hard into her squirming defenseless crotch. The spasmodic jerkings of the hollows of her soft inner thighs drove his hand between them; he was searching to place himself, striving to reach that goal that had eluded him for so long… and suddenly, without warning… he had brutally found it. He had jammed the blood-filled head between the fleshy moist lips and with a groan, shoved it all the way forward into her quivering cunt. She had squealed like a stuck pig and kicked her legs out wildly in the air in a futile attempt to escape the cruel impalement. It had only worsened her position and he could still hear the guttural screech of further pain that had come tumbling piteously from deep in her throat as his rock-hard cock battered deeper and deeper into her warm yielding flesh. At last, his pelvis had smacked hard into hers, signaling the end. His rigid fleshy column lay sunk all the way down inside of her quivering belly, the warm wet walls of her cunt wrapped tightly around it.

He didn't stop. He didn't even give her a chance to adjust to his sudden presence deep in her womb. He just began to fuck, ramming in and out of her like a dog gone mad. He had only thought of one thing and that was to spew that hot sticky load of cum deep inside of her where it belonged and where it had belonged for a year now. He vented his lust against her groaning body time after time, flooding her belly again and again with the hot white liquid of a year's frustrated waiting and hoping… until-finally… it was all gone.

How long or how many times he had fucked her, he couldn't remember. He had been an unconscious being in another world of complete madness. But, he did remember, after the first great gush from his sperm inflated cock had emptied into her, a feeling of helpless guilt flooding over him.

He had become more gentle with the sobbing body beneath and had babbled soft apologies in her unhearing ears as he had rocked over her. He had tried to bring a response that would wipe away the terrible guilt he felt for letting his unbridled lust overcome the patience he knew he should have had with her.

It had been useless. She had lain motionless beneath him, her eyes open wide, staring coldly at the ceiling above as he had tried time after time to awaken some response that would show she felt something other than pain and disgust.

The contemptuous eyes had not wavered from the ceiling.

Kevin remembered rolling from her still body, and unable to speak what he felt, had merely lit a cigarette and gazed silently down at her. He had finally mustered the courage to say something.

"Jean, can you forgive me?"

"Please cover me, Kevin," she had spoken coldly after a long seconds delay, her eyes still refusing to look at him. He pulled the sheet up over her body and tucked it gently under her chin.

He waited, but there was silence.

"Darling, I know it must have been awful for you. I-I just couldn't control myself."

Silence.

"You were beautiful standing there."

Silence.

"Perhaps if we hadn't waited so long. Remember? I told you we should have tried before."

Silence.

"Damn it, Jean," he had finally blurted out in his frustration. "You've got to understand a man's feelings about these things. I'm not some robot that can stand being next to a woman like you and not feel something. It's been building up all this time and it's your fault for being so almighty righteous and virtuous."

Kevin had known he had treaded too far when this had slipped out, but it was too late.

Because he had wanted to fight back, to recoup his lost vanity, he had become cruel. He had blamed his own failing on Jean and accused her of being cold and unfeeling.

"Christ, I might as well have married a statue. It could satisfy me as much as you have." He had shouted in guilt and anger. "I don't think you'll ever be able to make a man happy. Not until you learn to get off that pedestal you've put yourself on. Or, at least, that your old man's put you on."

Kevin had seen her move and glance toward him with the deepest hatred he had yet seen in her eyes. He knew he had hit a sore point and was glad to see some reaction from her, even though it was of hate, it was better than nothing. Besides, he felt like hurting her now the way she had hurt him.

"I'm going out and get myself some little slut off the street. I need a good grind. It'll be a long time before I get one at home."

With this, he had gone to the bathroom and dressed. He left, slamming the door behind him, not pausing for even a side glance at Jean.

That had been his big mistake, he thought bitterly as he flipped the cigarette butt out the open window of the racing train. Jean had been in no condition to be left alone at that moment. He should have swallowed his pride and not let his male ego take over. They wouldn't have this mess now if he had done what he should have and not run off into the Paris streets to walk off his own guilt feelings.

He had not gone out after a woman that night.

He had spent several hours just walking and stopping periodically for a cognac. He had thought long and hard about their relationship. It had been a good one and still could be in spite of his miserable failure on their wedding night. The cool Paris night air had settled his mind a bit and he had worked out an apology and explanation of sorts. It might take a while, but he was sure she would get over it.

When he had returned to the hotel the Concierge at the desk had handed him an envelope. It had been a simple note from Jean saying she was leaving. She needed a few days to think things over and for him not to try and contact her. She would let him know when and where to meet her so they could discuss things rationally.

That is why he was on this damn train. The cable had come this afternoon for him to meet her in Marseille. She made up her mind and wanted to talk to him. He didn't have the slightest idea what the decision had been and was a bit apprehensive, though he was certain they could work something out.

One thing he knew, he could not let her go. He loved her more than anything in the world and could not leave her under any circumstances.

He fell into a deep but troubled sleep, anxious for the morning to arrive.