Hi RB -- Some comments for you! I'll be rough on you but I think you'll appreciate it. Hope so, anyway...


Part 1 – Abduction

Marianne set the alarm, shut the front door, and locked it shut - she was always meticulous when it came to security. She walked down the short path forth house to the road, setting out for her daily constitutional walk.

[She took pride in keeping her figure trim, and walked at least 3 miles each day. She may have been 35, but she had the lithe body of a 25 year old. She weighed only 7 1/2 stone, and fitted comfortably into a UK size 10. Altogether, a fine specimen of womanhood. She was currently on her own because her Royal Navy husband was away at sea in the Far East, and the ship was not returning home to Devonport for another 9 months. Then there would be a 2 hour train ride to their home. This was the lot of a Navy wife, and she was used to it.] This is a long, boring information dump. I'd remove it and sprinkle the information throughout the story to follow, preferably extracted by others or brought from her head at appropriate moments.


Setting off towards the common, she began to get into her stride. Nearing the first corner, she noticed with irritation that a white van was parked on the pavement, the bit where it was extra wide. This was common occurrence, because there were a number of new houses being erected nearby, and its was convenient for the builders, but it still annoyed her.
As she squeezed past the van, which had its side door wide open, 2 large hands grasped her firmly, one round her mouth cutting off the beginnings of a scream, and the other around her waist, quickly dragging her slight seven and a half stone form into the van. [See, it's possible to include info like her weight at appropriate times, so no need to dump it all in the beginning! Certainly not twice...]

It all happened so quickly, it was unlikely the event had been observed. It was all over in seconds, and the door slammed shut with a terrified Marianne inside. The engine started, and the van moved away. Nobody noticed.
[Good time for a new paragraph]

In the van, Marianne was giving way to panic, struggling and kicking[, but] to no avail. Strong arms held her tight, a hand still over her mouth. She had not seen her assailant, nor the driver of the van. She had no idea what was happening to her, but she didn't like it.

The hand over her mouth was removed, but as she drew breath to scream, duct tape was slapped over her mouth. The assailant now had an extra hand free. Firmly holding her hands behind her, he laid her roughly face down onto a rug on the floor of the van, and quickly sat one back.
[Sat what? Say what?]

More tape was bound round her wrists and ankles, then she was completely at his mercy. Satisfied with his handiwork, the assailant stepped back to admire his defenceless captive.
[Head-hopping! We're in her head, so we don't know that he's satisfied with his handiwork! Maybe "apparently satisfied".]

She could see him now, dark hairy and swarthy, [swarthy == dark therefore redundant] but she had no spark of recognition. [Wordy and cliche'd way to say she didn't recognize him. One word, "stranger", well placed, would do it.]

What was going on? The van bounced along the road, and she slid from side to side on the bends. She attempted to calculate where they went from the lefts, rights and stops and starts, but soon had no idea where they were. [Good.] "Not long now", said a gruff voice, "then the fun will begin. Meanwhile, let's see what we've got." She felt him pushing a hand into her blouse, and under her bra, horny hands grasping her tit, finger and thumb feeling for her nipple. "Hmm. Nice tits but nothing much in the way of nipple. That's something for us to sort out."

[She has no feelings at this invasion? Why not? We were in her head but now we're not.]

He removed his hand, and she was surprised he rearranged her bra and blouse. Then she felt his hand under her skirt, roughly pulling aside her knickers. 2 fingers were jabbed into her cunt, which was still dry. She squirmed with pain.
[We've definitely left her head now, but it's a bad time to do so. Rewrite and get back into it please.]

"That's nothing. Wait till we really get going" he said. "Hair! We don't do hair. That will go very soon." She hadn't shaved her pussy for years. She had tried it once, shortly after she married. It was a great turn on being shaved by her new husband, and sex afterwards [had been] brilliant, but she couldn't stand the itching, and [had] refused ever to do it again, no matter how much her husband asked.

[Again we've lost track of how she's feeling right now, and gotten lost in the excessive flashback info dump.]

She lost all track of time - it seemed like a lifetime - but eventually she heard the gearbox drop down through the gears, and they turned into a drive. She heard the tyres crunching over gravel. Then they stopped. Now what? [Now we're back in her head, but only for boring stuff. What does she think of her abduction and mauling? Of the attacker? Is she planning something? Has she given up? ]

The sliding door opened, and her assailant picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and stepped out into the sunlight, her face bouncing into the small of his back. [Does she like this? We've lost her reactions when they matter most.]

They weren't in the sun long, though. He stepped through a door, and entered a grand hall, and the door clunked shut behind them. He shrugged her off his shoulder onto a soft sofa. Where was she? [S]he looked around as much as her bindings would allow. It was a grand room, expensively and tastefully furnished, but why was she here? [N]either were they alone. ["Neither" is out of place here, since there's no other negatives nearby. Better to just skip it.]

A well dressed middle aged man was observing her with mild amusement. "Marianne! How nice to see you. I have been looking forward to our meeting. we are going to some fun times together - well I am, anyway. Joe, take her to her quarters."

Her assailant, [[apparently Joe] (remember whose head we're in!)], picked her up easily in [his] arms, carried her through a door at the end of the room, along a wide hall and into a reasonably sized bedroom, where he dumped her [active voice please] unceremoniously onto a double bed. With one movement, he ripped the tape from her face, bringing an agonised scream. [We've left her head again. Every time something bad happens to her, we want to know what she's thinking about it, from the inside! Outside reactions are better from other people. For example, who the hell was that middle-aged man from her point of view?] Without waiting for that pain to subside, he removed the tape from her wrists and ankles. "There is a shower through that door, and clothes your size in the wardrobe. Leave your clothes here - you won't be needing them. I shall return in 30 minutes, when I expect you to be showered and dressed in the clothes provided. The window is alarmed, and we are miles from anyone else, and the door will be locked. There is no point screaming for help." He turned and left, as she began to sob.

Ten minute passed, and still Marianne sobbed. [Apparently without a single thought in her head.] A key turned in the lock, and Marianne started in alarm. A young girl of about eighteen entered the room, bearing a tray on which was a steaming teapot, jug of milk, and cup and saucer. "Madame, I have been instructed to bring you some refreshment. You have only 20 minutes left to shower and put on the clothes supplied for you. I must warn you that if you are late the repercussions will be serious, and if I were you I would stop crying and get into the shower PDQ." [I thought at first this was a note! Best to mention that the young lady spoke.]

With that, she put the tray down on a low table, and left. The key turned in the lock.
Pulling herself together, Marianne quickly stripped down to bra and knickers, and went to investigate the shower. [N]eatly tiled in white, it seemed a conventional ensuite unit. Realising she was bursting for a wee, she quickly got that over with, and stepped into the shower. Everything was there: clean white bath towel, soap, shampoo - the lot. Turning on the tap, she luxuriated under the stream of hot water - at least she wasn't paying the gas bill, she thought.
[Oh great. Now that she's forgotten about her captivity and humiliation, and is idly thinking about her need to wee and wondering about the gas bill, we're back in her head! Isn't she wondering more about who the middle-aged jerk is, or how she'll get out of this fix? Or maybe she likes it here? Let her tell us.]

[At this point I got bored and quit reading. You could rewrite the above and keep my interest better....]