Spoiled Heiress Gets Kidnapped Ch. 03

Then it was time to sit on the toilet, and I sighed as Dwayne pulled my jeans and my knickers down to my ankles and sat me on the loo. I started to piss, and as the tinkling sounds echoed in the toilet bowl Dwayne and I both looked at my lowered knickers and stopped short.

On the white fabric with pink flowers, my smelly cunt stains of course were evident, but there were now stains from my back bottom as well as my front bottom. A long brown streak of poo was evident from where my knickers came in contact with my anus, and on the back panel of the panties three other skid marks. I was right last night. Dwayne hadn't wiped my bum properly last night when I went to the toilet.

"You fucking idiot!" I spat at him.

"What did I do?" he protested.

"I've got shit stains in my knickers thanks to you not wiping my bottom properly last night."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harriet," said Dwayne, as I finished pissing and he got some toilet paper to wipe my wet fanny. "I'll do a better job today, and hopefully you won't get no more skid marks."

"You couldn't do much worse," I said, as I began pooing on the toilet. "And guess what? Thanks to you, you're going to have to get me some new knickers, because there is no way I am wearing these in this state."

"Um, ah, I'll have to get Rod and Nick, just sit tight Harriet," he said nervously.

I sighed deeply, poo oozing out of my rectum and rolled my eyes as Dwayne yelled out, "Rod, Nick, can you come in the toilet? Harriet's got shit in her knickers and she's real mad and I don't know what to do!"

"Keep your fucking voice down you cretin, they can hear you in the fucking street!" yelled Rod.

Soon I was joined by all three brothers in the very smelly bathroom, as I sat on the loo with shit in the toilet, all around my arsehole and the cheeks of my bum and feces in my underwear. My dignity was deeply in the red, and things only got worse when Dwayne pointed down at my dirty panties and said, "See, I told you she had shit in her knickers."

All three brothers looked down at my knickers, Rod and Nick most dismayed. "Stupid bitch, what you gone and done that for?" Nick demanded.

I glared at him. "Me? I've got my hands tied together, it's your brother's job to wipe my arse. It's his fault."

Rod seemed to have gone into denial. "Nah, this can't be happening. That's gotta be something else."

"Yeah, it's real poo from Harriet's bum Rod," said Dwayne. "It's not peanut butter nor nothing. Smell it if you don't believe me." Before anyone could stop him, Dwayne knelt down and sniffed my girl poo on my knickers. "Yeah, that's shit."

"That is the most fucking disgusting thing I've ever seen, get up and stop sniffing her shit!" snapped Rod. He then clipped his younger brother around the ear.

"Ouch, what was that for?" Dwayne protested.

"For sniffing the shit stains on a spoiled brat's knickers!" said Rod.

Nick then gave Dwayne a clip around the other year. "And that's for not wiping her bum properly last night."

"Make sure you wipe her stinky arse proper this time," said Rod.

"When you three turkeys have finished carrying on, you need to get me some clean knickers to wear like I said last night," I said, poo coming out of my bottom as I addressed my kidnappers. "There is absolutely no way I am wearing knickers with shit everywhere in them."

"It's your shit darling, you deal with it," said Rod.

"I'm going to get an infection in my fanny wearing these," I said. "It's very simple. Just get a few pairs of knickers to wear and change them daily and rinse out the ones I wore. Oh, and if you wash my fanny and my bum at least once a day, then there's less problems with my hygiene between my legs."

"If we change your knickers, we'll have to untie your ankles," said Nick suspiciously.

"Yeah, you just want to try and escape," said Rod.

"All I want is some clean knickers," I said. "I'll be good I swear, you and Nick hold my legs while Dwayne changes my pants and washes my bottom."

"Yeah, alright Princess," sighed Rod. "Dwayne, when the shops open, go out and buy her some knickers." He handed his brother a five pound note. "And I want change too."

"I'm not wearing these knickers," I said. "I'd rather wear nothing on my bottom half at all than wear knickers smeared in my own poo."

"Well if this dickhead wipes your arse properly, hopefully you won't have the same problem again, Princess," said Rod.

To my indignation, Rod and Nick remained in the bathroom with me as I finished having my poo and Dwayne wiped my bottom, probably to make sure that he did it properly this time.

"Enjoying the show you perverts?" I snapped at them as length after length of toilet paper came away from my anus smeared in my smelly poo, before I was finally done. I stood up off the toilet and Dwayne flushed it, before I shuffled to the sink my jeans and knickers still down.

"Go and get my washcloth out of my bag," I said to Dwayne, a command he obeyed immediately and returned with the pink washcloth.

"Now wet it down and wash my fanny first and then my bum, front to back," I said, bending over and thrusting my arse in the direction of the brothers, knowing they could see my vagina and my anus.

As Rod and Nick continued to watch, Dwayne wet down the cloth, and soon I felt him washing my pussy, his clumsy fingers pushing the cloth deep into my female area. "Now rinse out the cloth and do my bum," I said.

Again, Dwayne did as he was told, and finally my stinky little arse got a wash, the poo smells around my anus transferred to the cloth. At the sink, Dwayne washed the smelly cloth and then we both washed our hands, and I turned to face the other brothers, both of them clearly looking at my triangle of blonde pubic hair.

"Now darling, if we untie your ankles so we can take off your jeans and knickers, no kicking or nothing?" Rob asked.

I pointed down at my skid-marked knickers. "All I want is these filthy panties off."

"Okay then, but you try anything Princess and you'll be in the Thames with a brick around your neck," Nick warned me.

I sat my bare bottom on the bench next to the shower, Rod and Nick holding my legs down so I couldn't kick at them or try to escape. Dwayne untied the rope, and removed first my jeans and then my knickers, leaving me barefoot and naked from the waist down.

"Tie her ankles again, Dwayne," said Rod. "Come on, we don't got all day."

"Just doing it Rod," said Dwayne, re-applying the binds to my ankles.

I stood up and indicated my dirty teen panties. "Now wash them, Dwayne."

Dwayne looked a bit nervous about handling my shit-stained knickers, and gingerly washed my poo stains and then my smelly cunt stains from the double-cotton crotch and back panel of the flowery white panties, before hanging them to dry from the shower rail.

"Anything else we can do for you sweetheart?" Nick asked sarcastically.

"Well, now you mention it I need a wash under my armpits."

"Forget it, you're not getting your hands untied, darling," said Rod.

I glared at him. "Dwayne could damp down a hand towel, put it down my jumper and wash me under my arms. Plus I have roll-on deodorant in my bag."

"Yeah okay, actually you don't smell too great so fine yeah," said Rod. "Anything to stop you whining."

"Is it any wonder I don't smell so good when I've been tied up since Tuesday?" I scoffed.

Dwayne wet down a small hand towel, then we went into the living room, me feeling the three guys perving on my bare bottom on the way there.

I sat down on the couch, while Dwayne went to retrieve my bag and got out my deodorant.

"It's called a vagina," I said disparagingly to Rod and Nick, noticing that they were staring at my crotch between my open legs.

Soon Dwayne was back and his clumsy hands were down my jumper and blouse, me feeling him against my tits and bra as he washed my armpits and then put on fresh deodorant. It wasn't perfect and I was obviously still wearing the same clothes, but better than before.

I looked at my legs, fortunately I had shaved them the day before I got kidnapped and being a fair skinned blonde I wasn't too hairy anyway. Rod turned on the television, and even early on a Saturday morning there was a news story about how I vanished completely without a trace on Tuesday and not the slightest clue had been found to explain this despite intense media coverage and appeals.

"I'm sick of this fucking shit on every channel," said Rod. "Nick come on, let's get sorted."

They left the room leaving me knicker-less on the couch, and while Dwayne of course had seen my genitals before while he wiped me while I was on the toilet, like his older brothers he kept staring at my pubic hair and my pussy.

"Take a photograph, it will last longer," I said, before Rod and Nick returned with a typewriter and some stationery. I noticed that they were wearing gloves, plastic disposable gloves.

"We're going to type out your ransom note to your rich Daddy," said Rod, trying to be as menacing as possible. "Telling him that if we don't get three million pounds, his precious little girl gets fished out of the river and comes home in a body bag."

He didn't scare me, and I delivered a smart-arse reply. "Really? I thought you were going to wait a week before sending the ransom. So you've changed your mind and are doing it sooner? Does that mean I was right and you were wrong all along?"

"Shut it you brat," said Rod. "And Dwayne, turn down the fucking TV, me and Nick got to concentrate on typing out the fucking ransom note. I can't hear myself fucking think."

"Sheep think more than you, Rod," I smirked while Dwayne turned down the television.

"I won't tell you again bitch, shut your fucking mouth," yelled Rod.

"Um Rod, do you and Nick like want a hand to type up the ransom note?" Dwayne asked.

"No, sit with her and both of you keep your traps shut," said Rod.

Nick set up the typewriter - a really old-fashioned manual typewriter with the black and red ribbons - and stuck in a piece of paper. They may have been dumb criminals, but they were smart enough not to handle the paper with their fingers and leave prints.

"What's your Daddy's postal address, darling?" Nick asked as he began typing out the letter, one finger at a time.

I gave him the details, and commented, "Wow Nick, nine words per minute, that's impressive."

"Shut up Harriet, and where's the fucking Q?" snapped Nick. "Who designed the fucking typewriter anyway, it's fucking retarded!"

Eventually, with painful slowness, Nick finished the letter and then typed out the envelope addressed to my parents, Keith and Helen Holmes at my Daddy's business address.

"Here, read this Princess," said Nick, thrusting the poorly typed letter in my face.

The ransom demand, full of spelling and punctuation mistakes and bad grammar, was as I expected, saying that they had me and wanted three million pounds for my safe release. They would exchange me for the money at noon on Wednesday at Trafalgar Square, but no police (or pigs to quote the terminology in the letter directly) or I would die by drowning, chucked into the River Thames from Tower Bridge. Something my kidnappers were still obsessed with.

"You need to put something in there that only I would know," I said.

"Huh?" asked Nick.

I sighed. "Whenever there's a high profile case, you get nutcases and weirdos writing in for attention. Or other criminals might try and get a ransom on their own. This letter will be taken for a joke. But if you put something in it that only I know and my family know too, then they will know it's genuine."

"Like what?" Nick asked.

"Say at the bottom of the letter that Harriet says hi, and her friend Emma says hi too."

Rod, Nick and Dwayne looked at me in confusion. "Huh?" Rod asked. "Who the fuck is Emma?"

I explained. "When I was a little girl I had an imaginary friend named Emma. So if you put that in the letter my parents will know that it's real and that I'm still alive."

The three brothers looked at each other and then at me. "You had an imaginary friend when you were a little kid?" Rod asked.

I nodded. "Yes, that's right, her name was Emma."

Rod, Nick and Dwayne looked disbelieving and then began sniggering. "What's so funny?" I snapped.

"That's real weird, you having an imaginary friend," laughed Rod.

I sighed deeply and loaded my reply with as much sarcasm as I could. "Yes, a little girl having an imaginary friend as a playmate is really weird. But three men abducting the same girl when she's 19-years-old isn't weird at all, is it?"

Nick put the letter back in the typewriter and typed in the reference to Emma at the bottom of the ladder. He then put it in an envelope and put on a postage stamp, he and Rod again taking great care not to touch it. They then slipped the envelope into a plastic bag and handed it to Dwayne.

"Now when you're out buying Harriet some new knickers, you drop this into a post box, but don't touch it whatever you do," Rod warned Dwayne.

"Why not?" Dwayne asked.

"Fingerprints, you prat!" snapped Nick.

"Oh yeah, fingerprints right, I forgot," said Dwayne.

"And I'm size 10, and I want cotton knickers with a full back, no G-strings," I put in, not wanting him to fuck this up.

Dwayne took the letter and left the house on foot, leaving me alone with Rod and Nick who kept peeking at my pussy. I was thinking Dwayne might be gone a while, however in less than ten minutes he was back.

Rod and Nick looked at each other. "Don't tell me he's so shit stupid he forgot to post the letter or buy Harriet some knickers," Rod grumbled.

Dwayne's voice then filled the house. "Rod, Nick I done it! I posted Harriet's ransom letter and I got her some knickers to wear!"

"Dwayne, shut up, how many times to I have to fucking tell you!" yelled Rod as Dwayne entered the living room, carrying five pairs of knickers. All were cotton bikini-style panties like I normally wore, one pair pink, one light blue, one lemon, one white with different colored stars and the other pair pure white.

"Rod, here's your five quid back," Dwayne said, handing the money back to his older brother.

Rod looked very confused. "Um Dwayne, I gave you five quid to buy Harriet some new knickers. You're back here with some new knickers, but you haven't spent any of the dough what I gave you. What's going on?"

Dwayne explained. "After I posted the letter I was worrying about how I would buy Harriet some knickers. I'm mean, I'm a bloke and people might think I was a bit funny, or they'd get suspicious like. Then right near the shops I look into this backyard, and there's this girl who's about Harriet's size pegging her knickers out on the line to dry. So when she went back into the house, I climbed over the fence and looked at the label of her knickers, they were size 10. So I took five pairs and here they are."

Rod and Nick stared at him, before Rod asked, "So, you climbed over the fence into some bird's backyard, and you stole her knickers off the clothes line?"

"Yeah, but I didn't steal all her knickers, she had heaps of other pairs, she might not even notice these ones are gone," said Dwayne. "I thought it was a real clever idea."

"You fucking idiot!" yelled Rod. "We're going to get twelve million quid, and you put all that at risk by stealing a girl's knickers off the fucking clothesline?"

"She didn't see me or nothing," Dwayne protested.

"What if she did?" demanded Nick. "She could have seen you, and been on the phone to the filth complaining that some pervert was stealing her underwear. Then you get busted for thieving panties, the pigs come around here and arrest us and we all get 20 years for kidnapping. Fucking hell!"

Dwayne looked most offended. "Yeah, but I thought it was a good idea."

"Here's the thing Dwayne," said Rod. "People with shit for brains like you don't have good ideas, they only have dumb ideas. So next time you have a good idea, just fucking don't do it, okay? Jesus Christ, between you and her you fucking drive me mad. I tell you what, if we do end up getting nicked by the filth I'll be going to fucking Broadmoor. And it will be like a fucking holiday camp compared to here."

The chastened Dwayne was sulking, and hoped I might thank him for getting me some clean knickers. "I um, hope you like these knickers Harriet," he said, holding them out to me.

With bound hands I touched them, the cotton still damp as they had been just washed. I wasn't about to make Dwayne feel any better. "You should have gotten me dry knickers, now I have to sit around naked from the waist down for longer waiting for them to dry and it's all your fault."

This was true. While waiting for the stolen knickers to dry, I had to remain half-nude, and having to put up with Rod, Nick and Dwayne perving on my pubic hair, my pussy and my bare bottom. The only good thing was that when I needed to pee was that I was able to shuffle to the toilet on my own and sit on it, and only had to call Dwayne in to wipe my wet vagina when I had done.

When the knickers had dried enough for me to wear them, I again had Rod and Nick holding my legs while Dwayne took the pink knickers on over my ankles and bare feet and pulling them up, adjusting them around my bum and box, giving me a wedgie in the process.

"Pull my knickers out of my arse!" I hissed angrily, a direction that Dwayne who had already been shouted enough that day obeyed.

Then he put on my jeans and tied my ankles again. That night as I sat with Dwayne feeding me a crappy pizza that would make my actual crap smell terrible when it finished going through my digestive system, I hoped that Dwayne's misadventures in stealing a girl's panties from a clothes line would lead the police to the front door and I would be rescued.

No such luck. Rod, Nick and especially Dwayne were the dumbest criminals in Britain, but no doubt some of the luckiest ones too.

END OF CHAPTER 3 - TO BE CONTINUED ...