Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Katie Bower
Quite Contrary
- Joined
- Apr 20, 2017
As the van took a corner Amanda's fettered wrists made it impossible to hold on. Only her seat belt kept the frustrated blonde from toppling over, and it took some effort for her to pull herself back upright. A her soft lips formed a scowl, her attractive features glowering unapologetically as she tried to blow an errant lock of blonde hair aside that had fallen over one of her gorgeous green eyes. With only one way to express how pissed off she was the hand-cuffed figure banged the back of her head against the thin panel separating her from the drivers cab.
‘Can't you idiots drive?!’ her shapely eyes flashed angrily as she spoke.
Her one, pathetic consolation from having been sold, yes sold - like a car, or some other expensive toy - it was in the fact that she could now give vent to the contempt she felt for the criminals responsible. She’d worked that out when she realized just how much she had cost, figuring that if she was worth that much to someone they probably wanted her delivered in 'good condition.' Of course it was only guess, but it had held up so far. Indeed the thugs in charge had been showing her rather more deference ever since the auction. And while it was hard to be sure given the windowless rear compartment in which she was strapped down it did feel like they they had slowed down.
Thinking back to the auction was troubling though. It left her feeling slightly queasy because it had all been so smoothly handled. Even the location: she’d only glimpsed it from outside, but it had looked like the home of someone very wealthy. Without wanting to she found herself picturing the dressing room, and the stage where she’d been displayed to the bidders. They had installed a two-way mirror from floor to ceiling between it and wherever it was the buyers had congregated. Nothing about the experience that had suggested common criminals at work. If these people even thought of themselves as criminals they were the kind that had an easy time pretending they weren’t.
The kind that never got caught.
Amanda worked her fingers in the cuffs, her hands suffering from pins and needles. She had never really appreciated how nice it was to be able to move around freely until now, and then and there she would have paid almost anything for the chance to stretch her shoulders. Since it was impossible however she simply made an effort to adjust the way she was sitting, but with her cuffed hands and the tight seatbelt it was frustratingly difficult. Once again she attempted to blow a wayward few strands of her pale, blonde hair aside as they fell over her eyes, but it didn’t work. She shook her head angrily, but that only made it worse, and no amount of blowing would help. She tried, by way of some very awkward squirming and shifting, to use one of her slender shoulder. It actually worked, sort of. Moreover the attempt occupied her attention so much so that she did not realize the van had come to a halt.
Amanda's stomach dropped when she realized that wherever they were taking her, they had arrived. She shifted in her seat, her hips squirming as she tried to slide the skirt of her short, white dress further down her partially-bare thighs, but it did not help much. She overheard several sets of footsteps outside. Probably the thugs who had put her in the van for her 'delivery.' Then there was a third set. Her owner perhaps? The thought made her glower angrily.
‘Can't you idiots drive?!’ her shapely eyes flashed angrily as she spoke.
Her one, pathetic consolation from having been sold, yes sold - like a car, or some other expensive toy - it was in the fact that she could now give vent to the contempt she felt for the criminals responsible. She’d worked that out when she realized just how much she had cost, figuring that if she was worth that much to someone they probably wanted her delivered in 'good condition.' Of course it was only guess, but it had held up so far. Indeed the thugs in charge had been showing her rather more deference ever since the auction. And while it was hard to be sure given the windowless rear compartment in which she was strapped down it did feel like they they had slowed down.
Thinking back to the auction was troubling though. It left her feeling slightly queasy because it had all been so smoothly handled. Even the location: she’d only glimpsed it from outside, but it had looked like the home of someone very wealthy. Without wanting to she found herself picturing the dressing room, and the stage where she’d been displayed to the bidders. They had installed a two-way mirror from floor to ceiling between it and wherever it was the buyers had congregated. Nothing about the experience that had suggested common criminals at work. If these people even thought of themselves as criminals they were the kind that had an easy time pretending they weren’t.
The kind that never got caught.
Amanda worked her fingers in the cuffs, her hands suffering from pins and needles. She had never really appreciated how nice it was to be able to move around freely until now, and then and there she would have paid almost anything for the chance to stretch her shoulders. Since it was impossible however she simply made an effort to adjust the way she was sitting, but with her cuffed hands and the tight seatbelt it was frustratingly difficult. Once again she attempted to blow a wayward few strands of her pale, blonde hair aside as they fell over her eyes, but it didn’t work. She shook her head angrily, but that only made it worse, and no amount of blowing would help. She tried, by way of some very awkward squirming and shifting, to use one of her slender shoulder. It actually worked, sort of. Moreover the attempt occupied her attention so much so that she did not realize the van had come to a halt.
Amanda's stomach dropped when she realized that wherever they were taking her, they had arrived. She shifted in her seat, her hips squirming as she tried to slide the skirt of her short, white dress further down her partially-bare thighs, but it did not help much. She overheard several sets of footsteps outside. Probably the thugs who had put her in the van for her 'delivery.' Then there was a third set. Her owner perhaps? The thought made her glower angrily.