The Casebook of the Captive Teen Detective

All characters are over the age of eighteen, not that it should matter, since it is a work of fiction.  The actions presented in this story do not represent the views of the author or the staff of any site at which it may be posted.

The Casebook of the Captive Teen Detective

Casebook #1

The Final Case of Stacy Blue

By Razor7826

       I thought it was just like any other case closed, a shining example of my own youthful brilliance.  The media pounced on yet another triumph for the teen detective, my picture once again gracing the cover of the River Falls Times.  I pretended not to like the coverage, but I loved it when people acknowledged my genius, especially when compared to my many rivals.

       My Father chastised me, as usual, for ignoring his advice and disregarding my own safety.  "The Correli Family is bad news," he said, "and you’re a stupid, stupid child for going up against them time and time again.  One of these days, you won't be so lucky."

       "I'm not a child, father," I responded, shaking out of his overprotective hug.  "I'm an adult now, and I demand to be treated like one!" I stomped my foot to the ground in an overly rehearsed sign of defiance, barely making a noise in my stockinged feet.  "I'm almost nineteen, you know."

       He leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed.  "Stacy, this has nothing to do with your age.  The Correli's don't care one way or another how old you are, and if you keep going against them like this, who knows what they'll do to you.  They don't play fair, and I've seen many of my witnesses against them go missing.  Please, Stacy, will you drop this detective nonsense once and for all?  You're all I have left."

       "No way!  I'm going to use my brain for something great, even if you don't want me to succeed in life."  I turned around and ran upstairs, intent on continuing my life as the world's most famous detective.

       In hindsight, I wish I had taken his advice, unaware of the dangers that I was quickly attracting.

       ------------------------------------

       The following morning, a phone call came concerning an interesting case in Southern Wisconsin.  I left immediately.

I was forty miles from Kenosha when the oil light came on.  I looked around frantically looking for a gas station, but I was too far into the country for any immediate help.  I pulled my green roadster to the shoulder and parked, then popped the hood.  Yellow steam boiled from a car part that I didn’t know the name of.

       "Damnit!"  I yelled, knowing that my potty-mouthed moment would forever remain my secret.  I knew immediately that there was no way to fix it myself, leaving me with no other option than to walk back the five miles to the last gas station and phone for a tow.

        I sighed and started on my way along the rocky shoulder, concerned for what the dirt and dust would do to my impeccable appearance.  My white stockings and light-weight brown shoes were not meant for the rough terrain. 

       My feet were aching by the time I was halfway to the gas station.  I knew my green cotton dress would get ruined if I sat down, but I had to do it; there was absolutely no way I would make it there if I kept on walking like that. 

       The moment’s rest turned into an hour's rest.  I did not want to walk in the hot noon sun, and I instead rested, hoping that I could flag down help.  Unfortunately, of the few cars that passed on the lonely country road, none stopped.  I was completely shocked that the world had changed so much that a sweet and innocent looking girl like myself would be left alone.

       I continued walking towards the gas station, still on the look out for a ride to save me time and pain.  Finally, after covering half of the remaining distance, a car pulled along the shoulder.  It was a lime green van with patchwork curtains covering the back windows, a sign that the owners were part of the hippy culture that I detested so much.  The driver reached over rolled down the passenger window.

       "Do you need a ride?" she asked. "There was a gas station a few miles back I could drop you off at."

       I looked back at her and smiled, trying to conceal that my visual inspection of her.  She wore a two-layer brown shirt, which strained to keep her breasts in place.  I hated it when women wore clothes several sizes too small; women like that are what make it difficult for the smart ones like me to get taken seriously.  She smiled, and I noticed that she wore little discernable makeup, but it was obvious she spent a lot of time on her appearance, creating a strange dichotomy between her gentle look and run-down hippy van.

       "So, do you want a ride?" she asked again, her voice slightly more stern than her gentle introduction moments prior.  I could tell that she was trying to hide frustration with my inattentiveness.

       "Y... yes," I stammered.  I grabbed the handle with my right hand and pressed in the metal button.  The door creaked upon and I climbed in.

       In hindsight, it was the worst mistake of my life.  I wish I had followed my father's advice.  I wish I distrusted and feared all people.  I wish I had the sense to know when to run.

       I had none of it, however, and I would later pay the price for my naiveté.

       The van smelled of the women's perfume.  She wore far more than was necessary, and I had to restrain myself from coughing. I had but a brief moment to savor the noxious fumes before a strong hand reached around from behind the seat, crossing my chest and grasping me tightly.  I felt the cold blade of knife press against my throat.

       "Stay quiet and calm down if you want to live, Stacy Blue."

       I recognized the voice immediately.  It was a member of the Corelli crime family, a lowly thug by the name of Alfredo Alonzo.  While not as slimy as most of his siblings and cousins, he still reeked of cologne.    As far as I could remember, he was sent to prison by one of my investigations, but his family must have bribed the police.

       "What do you want with me, Alfredo?" I said, remaining as calm as I could.  It took every ounce of will to prevent myself from shaking, knowing that the jitters may have very well gotten my throat slit.

       He chuckled.  "I've learned better than to tell you my plans.  You'll just have to wait and see, this time.”

       

       "It's nice to finally meet you, Stacy.  My family has told me so much about you,” said the driver.

       "Who are you?"

       "Haha, sorry, girl,” she laughed and looked towards me.  “The less you know about me, the better."  She turned back towards the road and slipped the car into gear.  She accelerated along the shoulder, then edged back onto the two-lane road.

       "You know you won't get away with this."

       "We'll see.  This plan is a little bit... different than our previous plans," said Alfredo.  He laughed creepily and pulled me back tighter.  His bare arm pushed across my chest and up against my breasts, edging them upwards.  "You've grown since the last time we met."

       I wondered how long ago I sent him away.  So much had happened since I turned nineteen that I always felt like I had lost all perspective of time. "How long has it been?" I asked.

       "Don't tell me you don't remember, girl."  He turned his hand upwards, grabbed my right breast through my clothing, and squeezed.

       "Actually, I didn't, and get your hands off me."

       He pressed the knife harder against my throat, but still without the force necessary to break skin.  "You aren't in the position to give orders, do you understand that?"  He continued to fondle me through my top and bra while the women drove, only occasionally glancing over at me.  I could do nothing but see where those two goons would take me.

       "Damnit, Alfredo, did I miss the turn?" the woman asked.

       "Don't worry, sis, just a few more miles."  He resumed his perverted deeds while his sister drove.

       The van turned off onto a desolate dirt road that was, by my accounts, just across the Wisconsin border.  I wanted to escape, but all I could do was sit there, trying my best to remain completely still.  Alfredo never ceased to frisk me, his heavy breathing aside my ear signaling his perverted excitement.

       I couldn't help but breath faster, as well, the touch of a man completely new to my body.  His large hand caressed my chest through my top, and I could feel the warmth spread across my stomach.  I reluctantly accepted his hands as he pinched my nipple, because I had to; while I wasn't nearly as careful as my father wanted me to be, I knew that doing anything would result in death.

       The woman made a sudden left hand turn and sped down a desolate dirt road, presumably a private drive, though unmarked by any sign on the street.  In the distance, I could see an old farm house that looked like it was ripped right out of American Gothic, yet neglected for several decades.  The car stopped near the front door.

       "Let's get her downstairs," said the woman.  She got out of the car and walked around to the other side, then opened the passenger door.  She carried a gun.  "Come along now, girl, unless you want your daddy to mourn his only daughter's brutal murder."

       Her brother took the knife from my throat and pushed my shoulder towards the door.  "Follow her, bitch."  I stepped down from the van into the dry dirt.  The woman pointed her gun at my stomach.

       "Head towards the door." 

I paused for a moment and thought over my situation.  While my hands and feet were still unbound, any attempts at escape would undoubtedly end with my throat getting slit.  I closed my eyes and thought harder, hoping to think through everything to see the best path.

       “Move it, girl,” yelled the woman, “unless you want your daddy to get your head in a box for Christmas.”

       The image sat in my head for a brief moment before I shook it away, but not before a sense of dread pervaded every inch of my body.   The thought of me, dead, and my father mourning my death finally and truly set in, and I knew that I had to do what they asked.  I walked.

       The woman led the way and opened the front door, completely unlocked.  Her brother and I followed behind her while the creep continued to frisk me, his spare hand slowly wandering down my chest to my crotch.  He repulsed me, but I had to accept his explorations for the moment.

       

       “Let’s get her downstairs,” she said.  I followed in pace with Alfredo and descended the newly built wooden stairs.  The house was a dump, but for some reason the Corelli family saw fit to renovate this isolated corridor.

       During the moment’s silence, I began prodding for insight into their plans.  “What are you going to do with me?  Hold me for ransom?  Try to kill me?”

       The woman responded with a slight chuckle and nothing more, piquing my curiosity that this was all something more than a simple kidnap-me-and-tie-me-up-in-a-burning-building sort of thing.

       The rest of the basement dispelled the myth of renovation, but at the very least it had been recently cleaned.  The cracked concrete floor and dented brick wall were undoubtedly the same that the house was built with, however many years ago.

       The woman disappeared into the darkness, not even caring to turn on the basement light.  I heard a metal clanking sound, and realized where we were going.  She stood beside a large iron door, saddled with numerous bolts, dials, and hinges.  My first impression was that it was a modern day safe room, the inner sanctum for the storage of prized possessions.  However, what I saw behind the door dispelled any such childish notions.

       The walls of the room were white, plain, and smooth, as was the floor, save small divots and loops built flush into the floor from which chains dangled and wormed.  It was illuminated by rows of fluorescent lights built into the ceiling panel.  I recognized the strange devices strewn about the utility of the objects as what they were because of a case I had handled seven months earlier, a case in which I freed French-Canadian triplets from the perverted grasp of an elderly couple that ran a local charity.  It was my first glimpse into the world of sexual slavery.  I had never been so shocked in my life, for despite being of legal age, I still knew very little about ‘it’ except for the basic mechanics of it all.

       “Tie her up,” said the woman.  Her brother reached for a length of rope and looped it around me, over and over, until both upper and fore-arms were snared to my sides.

       “Wha… what are you going to do to me?” I asked, knowing the answer but praying for something better.

       “Well, why don’t we go through the options,” said the woman.  She paused and tapped her index fingernail against her chin.  “Your daddy doesn’t have enough money to make ransom worthwhile, so that is out of the question.  My siblings have tried to kill you dozens of times, but no matter what they do, you always seem to live.  So, that won’t work.  That really only leaves us with captivity, doesn’t it?”

       I didn’t know what to say.

       “However,” she continued, “you’ve really been a bitch to our family, and I,” she paused, walked towards me, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and pulled, “want to see you suffer for it.”

       “Owwww!” I yelled.

       “We’re going to rape you, you know that?  Over and over and over we are going to use and abuse you.  No amount of pain will sate our revenge.  Nobody will come to rescue you.  Nobody.”

       

       I knew that claim was not true.  People would come looking for me.  I have friends and colleagues that would risk everything to rescue me.  I knew they would come…

       She pushed me back wards and I landed on flat on my back, lucky that I didn’t dash my head open on the floor.  It wasn’t nearly as hard as I imagined it would be, and had a slightly springiness to it.

       “Go ahead, Alfredo.  I’m going upstairs for a drink.”  She stumbled out of the room with a grin on her face while her brother moved in on me, his pants already bulging in anticipation.

       “No, please, I’ll do anything you want! Just don’t do this to me,” I plead.

       He ignored me and kneeled between my legs, unzipping his pants as he moved.  I tried to kick him, but he grabbed my legs and spread them to the sides, then removed my shoes and threw them in the corner.  His boxers had a disgusting little stain at the tip of his tentpole that I could see for only moment, before he pulled them down, allowing his cock to spring forward.  He inched forward to me and lifted my green skirt.  I could feel his penis against my white cotton panties.

       “No… No…” Trembles shook my body.

       He grabbed my stocking covered thighs and pushed them to the side and pushed his cock against the side of panties.  He slipped it underneath, then moved the cloth out of the way and rammed inside of me.

       I arched my back and screamed as loud as I could, but I knew nobody but this pervert and his sister could ever hear me.

       “Please… I’m a virgin… stop this…” I yelled.  The pain tore through me, and I could do nothing but stare straight up into the ceiling lights as he rhythmically thrust into me

       He laughed and replied, “Not anymore, you aren’t.”  He bounced into me, over and over, and I could do nothing but cry.

       It didn’t take him long to climax.  I felt the warmth of his juice spread inside of me, and my worries turned to pregnancy.  “You’re… going to make me pregnant!”

       “Don’t worry about that.  My sister says she has that taken care of.”

       I didn’t know what he meant.  All I could do was lay there in the sweat and cum as he got up, zipped up his pants, and left the dungeon.  The metal door slammed and locked shut behind him.  From the outside, he hit the light switch, immersing me in darkness.

----------------

       I don’t know how much later the woman came in.  I think I was asleep when the lights came back on, but I cannot be certain.  She stumbled in to the dungeon, obviously still drunk from whatever she had upstairs, though not enough to make movement or speech impossible.

       “How are you doing, Stacy?” she asked, her words spread apart unnaturally.

       I shifted my body so I could look her in the face.  She was smiling at my plight, upsetting me that a human being could be so callous.  "How could you to this to another woman?"

She laughed at me.  "You are not a woman." She reached over and pinched my right nipple through my dress and bra with her nails, causing me to wince and gasp in the sharp pain.  "You're just a bitchy little girl that poked her nose where it never belonged."

"You're all a bunch of criminals!" I yelled.

"So?” I could smell the booze on her breath. “Should that make me love my family any less?  The ones that you got sent to prison?  The ones that I'll only ever see between a glass wall and a telephone?"  She began to tear up, and she stopped toying with me.  She stood.  I could see tears flowing freely.

I misinterpreted her tears as a sign of weakness and plead for my freedom, "Please... let me go.  It's the right thing to do.  You know it is.”

"Shut up!" she yelled.  She reared her foot back and kicked my pussy. I grunted in pain.  She continued, now clearly furious with me, "My brother might be interested in this plan just for the sex," she paused and looked up at me, "but I’m in it to make your life hell.”

I knew at that moment she was crazy, and that she would do anything necessary to keep me her plaything.  I didn’t know if she was always crazy, or if my cases against her family made her that way.

       It didn’t matter.  She hated me, and I knew she would follow through with her threat.

I tried to worm away from her, my arms still bound to my sides.

“You can’t escape.  Didn’t I tell you that already?” She bent down, grabbed my right angle, and dragged me to the other side of the dungeon, to a steel workbench covered in unidentifiable objects.  “Let’s get you into some more appropriate attire.”  She took two handfuls of gear from the table. 

Without another world, she encircled my neck with a dog collar, which she snared with a small key lock.  “What… is this?  A dog collar?”  It was humiliating to be treated like an animal.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?”  She dropped me back onto the floor with a thud.”

“Owww!”

       She giggled at my expression of pain, then turned me over onto my chest.  She slapped some thick cuffs onto my wrist and linked them together with chain.  “There, that should be enough to hold you.  Let me free you up a bit.”  She pulled a knife from her pocket and cut away the ropes that bound my arms, then began to cut through the green sun dress that my friends bought me for my nineteenth birthday.  I offered no resistance in silence, believing it to be futile. 

       “Green is such an ugly color.  Your last name’s Blue, for goodness’ sake.  Why do you always wear green?

       “To be different.”

       “Well, that era is over. No more clothes for you.”  She cut away my bra and panties, lumped the shreds of my clothes into a ball, and threw them to the side.

       I kneeled there on the white floor of the dungeon wearing nothing but cuffs and collar.

       She looked over me.  “Now, I think we’re ready.”

       “Just leave me alone,” I cried.

       “Why would you even bother saying something so hopeless?  You really are a walking cliché, you know that, right?”  She shook her head.  “Let’s get you set up for the night.  Stand.”  She slipped a finger underneath my collar and helped me stand.  “Get into the cell on the far right.  I complied.

       “Now, sit against the wall.”  I did as she asked.  She attached a chain that dangled from the wall to my collar, leaving me such that I could not lay down, or even sit on my rear.  I would have to stand or crouch as long as I was kept in this position.

       “Perfect.”  She turned around and left me squatting there, returning with two dildos and a strap of some sort.

       “Now, I think your first night here calls for something special.”  She bent down and crammed the dildos into my ass and pussy, then strapped them in place to a belt that dangled around my waist.  “There, that’s good.  How does it feel?”

       “It… hurts.”  Not as much as the first time, though.

       “Good.  I’ll be back in the morning.”  She stood, exited the cell, locked it shut then left the dungeon and turned off the lights.

       Once again, I was alone in the dark, and the reality of the day’s events finally sunk in.

       I ignored my father’s advice.

       I targeted the Corelli family.

       I was reckless with accepting cases.

       Now, I would pay the price for my carefree attitude.  I don’t know if I’ll ever escape.  I don’t know what they’ll do to me.

       The one thing I do know is that no matter how hard I beg or plea with that sadistic woman, she will live up to her claims.

       The tears are flowing freely now.  My life is hopeless.  There is nothing I can do.  I’ll never see my friends or family again, and it’s all my fault.

       I’m sorry, Dad.