bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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bmblbee
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Broken Circle

TITLE: Broken Circle
10/42
AUTHOR: BmblBee
PARING: S/X
RATING: Adult for language and content
DISCLAIMER: The Bee has no rights or claim on any
of the characters or products named in this story and makes
no profit from them.
SUMMARY: This is the third story in the Rosebud/verse.
Tara has been abducted and the police rush to find her.
The other members of the Circle decide that they can do
a better job and begin their own investigation.
Who will find her first and will it be in time?




Huge thanks to Purpledodah for the amazing banner.


Tara came back to herself slowly. Conscieness was a struggle.
Her head pounded with a throbbing headache and her stomach
rolled with nausea caused by the bed and room spinning around her.
She felt drunk. It took all her resolve not to vomit.

The inside lining of her mouth, nose, and throat burned with the
noxious acrid remnants of the chloroform that was used to
knock her out.

Forcing herself awake, she knew she needed her wits about her
to understand what the exact situation was. Although she had no
idea how long she had been out, she knew it was long enough for her
back and hips to ache from the flat position she was lying in.

The minute she tried to turn or roll onto her side, Tara realized
she was restricted, tied and bound. Her hands were strapped at the
wrists and secured over her head, looped around the bars of the bed's
iron headboard.
They rattled loudly when she pulled, shocking her with the sudden racket,
so she stopped.

Jerking her legs, she felt the leather of the anklets that held her
legs apart and firmly restrained and causing her skirt to ruck up in
an undignified manner.
The realization that her claustrophobia would be tested and challenged
cleared the final fog from her brain and brought a sharp clarity to
her thoughts.

Her head thrashed from side to side, desperate to see through the
black darkness that she now knew was a blindfold tied tightly over
her face.
Her throat constricted with the need to scream out her terror and
beg for help, yet her brain told her to be silent. Her ability to mimic
a mouse, silent, small and unnoticed had become her nature.
It had seen her safely through life and felt like the best idea now.

With an involuntary whimper and a whine, she tried to shrink in to the
hard, lumpy mattress and disappear.
Still, she couldn't let panic overtake her. Forcing her breathing to slow
down, Tara attempted to take stock.

She could tell the room was quiet. There were no sounds of traffic, no
television, no radio. There were no voices, but she couldn't be sure she
was alone. Gratefully, relief bouyed her as she realized that she was
still dressed. She was fairly certain he had done anything to her body.

'He!'
Her brain landed on that pronoun like a cat on a mouse. She remembered
the meeting and the slimy man who approached her. She knew he had been
watching her all night and had tried to ignore him. He approached her at
the end of the meeting. He said he wanted a reading. She refused.
There was something about him that made her alarm bells ring and her
skin crawl.

"I'm sorry. I'm late. I have to go." She had told him.
"Please. It will only take a few minutes." He had smiled but there was
no warmth in his eyes. She knew he was trying for innocent. He did not
achieve it.
"No, they are already locking up the building. I'm sorry, we must leave now."

She had turned on the excuse and nodded to the janitor, Mr. Meeps, who
had just stepped into the room. She was so relieved to see him she could
have hugged him. She thought about asking Meeps to walk her to her car,
but didn't. It was too much of an imposition. He had work to do and,
after all, her car was just outside in a well lit parking lot.
Surely, she thought, this man wouldn't try anything where he could be seen.

As soon as Tara stepped outside and saw her car, she rushed toward it.
Her earth sandals clacked loudly, echoing in the quiet, fading light.
The rest of the lot was nearly empty.

The truck parked next to her was unfamiliar and it took only seconds to
realize who it belonged to. It was a knowledge that caused her hands to
shake as they dug down into her oversized shoulder bag.
'Damn!' She thought. 'How many times has Spike told me to always have
my car keys in my hand BEFORE I leave the building?'

Glancing back, she saw him walking toward her. Panic clutched her like
steel bands wrapped around her chest and wind pipe.
'YES!' She found the keys and quickly unlocked the door. Immediately,
she dropped down to the seat and stuck the key in the ignition but
before she could close the door, his large fleshy fingers held it open.

"Please, won't you reconsider? Follow me home and give me a reading.
I will pay you very well."
"No. I don't do it for money. Please. I need to go."

In a flash, he had grabbed her arm and snatched her out of the VW.
Spinning her around, he pulled her small body back against his, his
hand came out of his pocket and he slapped a rag to her face.
At first she feared he was going to smother her, then the smell hit.
Nausea, dizzyness and a black sickness swamped her, tossing her into
a deep tar pit of unconscienness.

The man had crouched down the second he realized she was coming awake.
Just inches from her, he could smell the sweet herbal scent of her clean
hair as well as the sharp odor of perspiration that grew in direct
proportion with her fear.

It was a combination that shot through his body, thrilling and exciting
him. His fingers ghosted milimeters over her, itching to touch her, to let her
know that he was there, but he didn't. Not yet. Not yet.

He watched her struggle against the straps he had bought at the adult
novelty story. He had selected them with love and care, double
checking the quality, assuring himself that they would hold.
Despite the fact that she was small and seemingly weak, he had learned
in the past that some of these fucking women could be deceptively strong.

He wanted to punch the filthy clerk that snickered as he rang up the
sales. The little prick thought he knew what the customer wanted.
He imagined a silly consensual romp between two people playing
at bondage.

It had taken all he inner strength not to pull out his gun and blow
the fucking clerk's head right off his shoulders.

He tipped his head to the side and stared at her face. He was
slightly disappointed. He had wanted screams. He had imagined
she would beg and plead to understand what was happening.

But maybe she already knew. He searched her face for the
realization of who and why. She must know by now that all this
was her own fault. Despite buying the equipment, he would have
gladly not used it if she would have just consented and come with
him willingly.

He tried to talk to her, to ask her, and explain what it was that
he needed but she wouldn't even discuss it. She turned her back
and walked away as though he was nothing more than a mangy,
ferel cat that had followed her, meowing for a crumb of food.

The man frowned, scowled, and could feel the familiar fury begin to
boil in his stomach at the percieved belittlement.
'Who the fuck did she think she was? Was what he asked
so much?'

He gritted his teeth to prevent any noise from slipping out of his
tightly pursed lips and he continued to watch her. Was she the one?
He had searched for so long and the others had seemed promising too
but in the end, they all failed.

He looked her up and down, watched her chest rise and fall erratically
and could almost see the blood pounding through her veins.
He eased his hand down to the front of his trousers, pressing against
the painful, insistant hard on that she had caused.

He could see it happening and he craved it. Ripping her panties off
and ramming his cock deep inside her, tearing her up and feeling her
magical blood coat his manhood. He wondered if it would change him,
make him like her. Give him the power.

Closing his eyes, the man nearly moaned out loud with the strength of the
vision, but, no. That was not why she was here. It was not for his
physical pleasure that she was needed. Besides, the other bitch, the one
he knew was down in the kitchen would kick his ass if he did that.
Fuck knows she had done it before. 'Fuckin' Bitch!'

Slowly, carefully, the man leaned in till his lips were barely touching the
outer shell of Tara's white delicate ear.

"Good morning, Precious."
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