The bell tinkled above the door as Mina and Choa entered the gas station.  A very pretty Chinese woman stood behind the counter, wearing a very baggy t-shirt.  A local would have found the beauty’s presence behind the counter of a gas station in the middle of nowhere out of place, at the very least, but Mina and Choa didn’t notice anything amiss.

“Can I help you?” she purred, leaning seductively on the counter.  The shirt was baggy enough to give an ample window to her cleavage as she leaned forward.

“Um, did our friend come in here?” Choa asked.

“Long brown hair like mine, just a shade lighter?” Mina added.

The woman nodded.  “Yeah, she’s in the bathroom,” the woman jerked her thumb towards the restroom.  “She’s been in there awhile.”

“Thanks.”  Choa and Mina made their way to the back.  

“Hey, Hyejeong, thanks for running off without telling anyone,” Choa said, banging her fist on the door.

There was no response.  Mina leaned in and pressed her ear against the door.  “What’s that sound?”

Choa listened as well.  There was a faint, muffled noise coming from in the bathroom.

“Hyejeong, you alright?”

Neither girl noticed the Chinese woman slip from behind the counter, going up front and switching the sign to “closed” and locking the door.

Choa tried the door handle, finding it unlocked.

“Hyejeong?” she asked again, slowly easing the door open.

Choa’s and Mina’s mouths dropped as they stared into the bathroom.

Samantha stared, wide eyed above the layers of duct tape holding her mouth shut, back at the girls.  She cried for help from the two girls, her pleas muffled by her own panties packed and taped tightly in her mouth.

Choa and Mina stood frozen, unsure of what to do.  The gas station attendant was bound to the toilet, completely naked.  Her hands were bound behind the toilet tank, her legs spread and taped to the sides of the toilet bowl, leaving her exposed and seated uncomfortably over the toilet.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, coming up behind them.  “I lied to you.  Your friend’s not here.  You’ll be reunited with her soon enough, but in the meantime, I’m going to have some fun with just the two of you.”

The girls turned, horrified.  The woman pulled off Samantha’s baggy t-shirt, revealing her tight latex corset, and the breasts the corset struggled to hold in.  

“What did you do to Hyejeong?” Choa asked.

“Me?  Nothing yet.  But I can’t say the same for Darby.  I’m sure he’s having lots of fun with your friend,” the woman said ominously, slowly sauntering forward, closing in like a predatory cat.

“Who’s Darby?  Where’s Hyejeong?” Choa insisted, the full gravity of the situation not fully sinking in yet.  Even still, she and Mina were both taking small, shuffling steps backwards into the bathroom and the restrained clerk.

“Darby likes to call himself a K.O. artist.  Not my particular cup of tea.  I like my toys awake, alert, aware of everything I’m doing to them.”  She flashed a wide smile, revealing a mouth full of perfect, white teeth.

“A K.O. artist?” Mina asked.  She jumped and gave a small squeak when the back of her leg backed into Samantha’s knee.

“A knock out artist.  He specializes in chloroform, tranquilizers, paralytics, smothering.  I’m sure you’ll get to experience his work first hand soon enough.  But not until I’m done breaking you in.”

The woman was almost to the door, trapping the two girls in the bathroom with the taped up clerk.  Choa glanced around desperately.  She spotted a toilet plunger in the corner behind the toilet, and she dove forward and grabbed it, mindful of the naked girl squirming and moaning on the toilet.  The woman was too heavily taped up to even try and free, and Choa spared her an apologetic look before she spun back to face the crazy woman, brandishing the plunger in front of her.

The woman smirked.  Mina looked around for something she could also use as a weapon, but when she saw nothing serviceable, she awkwardly held up her fists, standing slightly behind Choa.

Both girls stood at 5’2’’, but they were highly trained dancers, and in great shape.  The woman had 5 inches on them, and while she looked to be in her late twenties she looked to be in pretty good shape herself.  Still, there were two of them, and one of her.

The woman’s smile spread, baring her teeth in her predatory smile.  “I like it when they’re feisty.  So much more fun,” she said.  “Not like that floppy bitch.  She practically let me tape her up after I licked her cunt for two minutes.”

Samantha blushed above the tape wrapped around her mouth and let out a low moan.  After a leg melting orgasm, she had been too stunned to even try and mount a resistance as the woman had forcibly stripped her naked.  She didn’t even protest when the woman had forced her arms behind her back and taped her wrists together.  It wasn’t until she’d been pushed back onto the toilet that she’d even thought to question what was going on, and the woman had answered her by stuffing her panties into her mouth, and after a stern warning not to spit them out, she’d submissively held them in her mouth while the woman taped her to the toilet.

Choa and Mina bother screamed in unison as they charged the woman.  



Hyejeong came to her senses slowly, groggily putting her hands across her eyes to block out the dim light.  

She groaned, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted, and she tried to get a bearing on her surroundings.  She was lying on a stained yellow couch, in some sparse, dingy room.  A single dusty light bulb hung from the ceiling on a rusty chain, illuminating the room.

“Where am I?” she wondered out loud, trying to clear her foggy brain.  She sat up slowly, looking around.  A single window with a dirty, faded curtain sat on the far wall, and there was a wooden door next to the couch.  

She got up, noticing her feet were bare.  She walked gingerly across the grimy wooden floor, padding softly over to the window, pulling the curtain aside.  She was on the second floor; she could barely see the ground below.  It was pitch black outside, the light from the window barely illuminating the trees growing right up against the house.

“Where am I?” she repeated, getting more confused by the second.  “Jimin?  Seolhyun?  Choa?  Anybody?” she called out.  

There was no response but the eerie creak of the floorboards as she tip toed over to the door.

She tried tracing back the last things she remembered.  Their bus had stopped, and she’d gone outside she thought.  And then… nothing.

“Hello?” she called, a little louder, though even as her volume rose her nervousness crept into her voice.  Something wasn’t right.

She tried the handle, jumping a little as the rusty hinges squealed when she pulled on the door.  Taking a deep breath, she pulled it open all the way, revealing a dark hallway.  

“Is there anybody here?” she called out.

Still nothing but the sound of her own quickening breath in her ears and the rapid thump of her heartbeat.

She looked for a light switch in the hall, but didn’t see one.  She checked her pockets, looking for her phone.  Like her shoes and socks, her phone, as well as the rest of the contents of her pockets, was gone.

Her phone, she thought, slowly creeping into the dark hallway.  Something about her phone.

She’d been trying to get a signal.  She remembered getting off the bus to try and get a better signal, and then…

The last couple of moments before she’d blacked out came back to her in horrid, vivid quality, just as she heard a creak that didn’t come from her own footsteps in one of the black rooms off the hallway.  

Something had come out of the shadows, grabbed her, and held some sweet smelling cloth over her mouth.  Chloroform, she remembered the bone chilling realization that she was being drugged just before she had succumbed to the fumes.  

Hyejeong jumped, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she thought she saw movement in the shadows.

The singer broke into a run, a terrified sprint born of pure adrenaline, making her way further into the dark hallway, past the door where she thought she saw movement.  She saw the stairs just in time to narrowly avoid falling down them, bracing herself on the rickety wooden railing as she began to run down them, two at a time.  

She could definitely hear something behind her.  Something chasing her.  Too terrified to look back, she kept running, stubbing her toe and stumbling as she hit the ground floor.  She barely caught her balance, continuing to run blindly through the dark house.  She banged her shin, sprawling over something, maybe a coffee table or an ottoman.  In the faint light that spilled through more of the flimsy curtains, she could make out that she was in a living room.

Hyejeong pushed herself back to her feet, running on, limping slightly as she made her way into the next room.  Her bare feet slapped on linoleum, and she could make out kitchen appliances.  And a door!  She made a dash for the door, slamming into as she tried the handle, finding it locked.

“Oh no no no no!” she cried, jiggling the handle, willing it to turn before she found the lock and turned it.  The handle turned, and she pulled on the door, but it still didn’t open.  “Come on come on come on,” she panted, her hand feeling upwards from the handle until she felt the dead bolt.  She fumbled with it, turning it.  Still the door didn’t open.  She’d turned it the wrong way!  She spun it the other way, and the door budged when she pulled.

She’d just gotten the door open when a strong pair of arms encircled her, pulling her away from the door, away from freedom.

Her scream of terror was quickly cut off as a damp rag was jammed over her face.  She recognized that sickly sweet smell.  Hyejeong fought to shake it off, jerking her head back and forth, kicking her bare feet backwards at her assailant’s shins, but his grip was firm, and there was nothing she could do to resist.  In her panic, she sucked in the fumes in short, desperate breaths, unable to hold her breath for more than a few seconds before her lungs burned and she involuntary took another gulp of the soporific chloroform fumes.

Her struggles got weaker, and his grip shifted, his hands groping her small, pert breasts through her shirt.  Even this new violation couldn’t spur her to do more than quietly moan and weakly squirm as she kept breathing in the sleep inducing fumes.

Finally, she went limp in the man’s arms.  He held the cloth over her mouth for a few seconds more for good measure, his other hand drifting through the neck of her shirt, his fingers greedily squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts.

Darby removed the cloth from her mouth, lifting her up under her arms, and dragging the unconscious girl back upstairs.  “We’re just getting started,” he whispered in his sleeping captive’s ear as he laid her back down on the couch.



Yuna and Youkyoung could see the lights of the town off in the distance.

“Oh finally,” Youkyoung said, pointing as they came around a bend.  The golden arches they universally recognized stood out above a small cluster of buildings.  The restaurant, a gas station, a motel, and they all looked to be open.

“Come on,” Yuna said, breaking into a jog.  “If they can’t get someone to come fix the bus, at least we can stay the night.”

There was a sign for the reduced speed limit of 20 mph on the side of the road, and just as the girls ran past it, there was a loud bang, and they both shrieked in surprise, ducking down and covering their heads.

“Was that a gunshot?” Yuna asked, looking around frantically, shining the flashlight around at the dense woods on either side of the road.

“Maybe a car backfiring…” Youkyoung offered, not very confident that it wasn’t, in fact, a gunshot.  

Yuna’s flashlight beam froze on the sign.  Perfectly centered in the middle of the zero was a hole.  A hole that hadn’t been there a second ago.  The front side was smooth and flat, but the back was blown out, jagged shards of metal forced outwards.

Youkyoung walked cautiously up to the sign, slowly extending her delicate fingers up to the sign.  The metal around the hole was hot, and she pulled her fingers away quickly, putting the singed tips in her mouth.

“What are you doing?” Yuna hissed.  “We have to get out of here!”

Youkyoung nodded, the gravity of the situation setting in.  The gunshot had come from behind them.  They exchanged a glance, and then without saying anything, they sprinted towards the town.

A bullet tore across the asphalt, mere feet in front of them.  They shrieked, and Yuna froze, while Youkyoung, panicked, made a hard right and ran into the woods.

“Youkyoung!” Yuna called after the blonde drummer.  Another bullet struck the road in front of her, and she turned and followed Youkyoung into the woods.

The man stepped out of the woods on the other side of the road.  He lit the cigarette perched between his tightly clenched lips, the corner of his mouth just barely curving upwards in a faint smile.

He shouldered the rifle.  He’d never actually shoot such valuable commodities.  They were worth far more alive and relatively unharmed than they would be, stuffed and mounted with the rest of his trophies.  

But the gun scared them.  And fear bred desperation.  And resourcefulness.  He rubbed the scar across his neck.  The greatest trophy he’d ever gotten from a hunt, the closest his prey had ever come to killing him.  He didn’t have high hopes for the Angels, but he’d been surprised before.

He strode across the street, following his prey into the woods.



“Ugh, I should have gone with them,” Chanmi whined.  

Mr. Sang silently agreed with her.  If he decided to make a move, he didn’t like his odds against the three of them.  If they fought back, even being bigger and stronger than them, he doubted he could subdue all three of them.

“Just relax.  It’s no different than sitting on the bus while it’s driving,” Jimin said.

“But it is different.  When it’s moving, at least you know you’re going somewhere.  This is like sitting in traffic, but worse, cause half our friends got to go out and do something about it,” Chanmi said.

Mr. Sang smiled.  “Chanmi, why don’t you give me a hand, I want to look through the luggage under the bus.  I’ve got some food in one of my bags; at least we can eat while we’re stranded.”

Chanmi nodded.  They had plenty of snacks on the bus, but it would give her something to do.  “Alright, I’ll come.”

“We’ll come too,” Seolhyun offered.

“No!” Mr. Sang blurted.  The three girls looked stunned at his sudden change in tone.  “I mean, there’s no need.  It’s barely a two person job, and you and Jimin don’t seem like you’re pretty comfortable on the bus.”

Seolhyun settled uneasily back into her seat.  Mr. Sang could be strange from time to time, but their manager generally had their best interests in mind.  He probably was just trying to spare them from more of Chanmi’s whining.  The more she thought about, the more she thought Mr. Sang was actually being quite thoughtful.  “Yeah, I’m fine here,” she said, glancing at Jimin.

“Same here.”

“Alright, whatever,” Chanmi said, walking off the bus, Mr. Sang right behind her.

“Hopefully you’ve got something better than chips and granola bars in there,” Chanmi said as Mr. Sang opened the bottom panels of the bus.

He did have quite the assortment of food in one of his bags.  But that wasn’t the bag he was looking for.  He pushed past all the girls’ instrument cases until he could see the one he wanted.

“Do you mind crawling in there and grabbing it?” he asked.

Chanmi hesitated.  Mr. Sang always unpacked all their equipment for them, crawling under the tour bus and setting up all their stuff, but as the maknae, the baby of the group, Chanmi was used to getting stuck with the jobs none of the other girls wanted.

Reluctantly, she crawled into the space under the bus, pushing past all the bags and cases.

Mr. Sang grabbed the box of packing equipment.  Tarps, plastic wrap, packing and duct tape, elastic bungee cords.  Everything he needed for packing up the girls’ equipment.  And now the girls themselves.  His hands were shaking as he quickly ripped off a strip of duct tape, placing it on the inside of his left arm where he could easily grab it.  He balled up a dirty rag he used to wipe down the cases when it rained, clutching it tightly in his sweaty palm.

Chanmi grunted as she pulled the suitcase out from under the bus, climbing down before she unzipped it and threw it open.

“Uh, Mr. Sang, there’s no food in here.  Don’t tell me I crawled under there for the wrong case,” she said, staring at the piles of neatly folded clothes.

“Oh no, that’s the right case,” he said, slowly coming up behind her.

“You need a change of clothes now?”

“No, I actually just need the suit case itself.”

“What for?”

He was right behind her.  He glanced up, seeing the back of Seolhyun’s head, her jet black hair resting against the window.  Too late now.  If she saw him now, at least he could have one of the girls out of the way.

“It’s to keep you out of the way,” he said, practically on top of her.

Chanmi spun around, opening her mouth to ask what was going on, when she turned right into his hand, and he pushed the dirty rag into her open mouth.

Chanmi’s eyes went wide, and before she could attempt to spit the rag out, Mr. Sang ripped the tape off his arm and slapped it over her lips, sealing the rag in.

“WWWMMMFFF!” Chanmi cried in surprise as Mr. Sang grabbed her, lifting her off her feet and dragging her away from the bus.

“Shhh!” he hissed, glancing at the window, but Seolhyun hadn’t moved.  Chanmi struggled in his grip, screaming into her gag as Mr. Sang started to wrap tape around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

It was a sloppy job, but he went overboard to compensate, mummifying around her stomach, making sure to cover the folded, bent, wrinkled sloppy first few rounds.  With her arms useless, he set her down, wrangling up her frantically kicking legs and taping them together around her thighs and ankles.

“I told you to be quiet,” he hissed at her, wrapping more tape around her head.  This only prompted her to yell louder.  He pinched her nose shut, cutting off her air.  She shook her head frantically, trying to throw him off, but he held on until she calmed down before he let her breath again.  She mumbled angrily into her gag as she panted for breath, but she quieted down.

Mr. Sang rolled her onto her side, folding her legs up and tucking her thighs up against her chest.  The nineteen year old was extremely flexible, and he had no trouble folding her into a tight ball.  An elastic bungee cord going from under her knees around the back of her neck and another from her ankles around to her back pulled her even tighter into a ball.

He scooped up the whimpering girl and set her under the bus.  He took the clothes out of the suitcase.  Chanmi figured out what he was planning and began to struggle and scream into her gag again.  But no matter how hard she pulled against the bungee cords, the strong elastic always pulled her right back into position.

He pinched nose closed again.

“MMMMPH!” she screamed in protest.

“You’re not going to have a lot of air in that suitcase.  So if you want to survive until I let you out, I’d suggest you stop screaming and save your breath.

She nodded desperately and he released her nose again.  She sucked in air as he picked her back up and deposited her on her side in the suitcase.

“Remember, stay nice and quiet,” he told her before closing the lid and zipping her up, locking her in darkness.

Mr. Sang stood back, taking a deep breath.  That had been easier than he had expected.  And so exciting.  His heart was pounding, adrenaline racing through his veins.  He’d just tied up one the Angels.  He’d just taken her, like she was his to take.

His employer had been right.  The thrill of the hunt or whatever he’d called it.  He’d said that once he’d taken what he wanted, he’d never be able to go back.  And Mr. Sang would never go back.  And he had the beautiful Jimin and graceful Seolhyun on his bus, just waiting for him.  Seolhyun was already his, according to their deal.  But he was going to take Jimin too.  He wanted her, and she would be his.

He stuffed a couple more bungee cords into his pocket and tucked a roll of tape into the back of his pants, under his shirt before shutting the storage compartment.

There was no going back.



The woman tossed the toilet plunger she had easily taken from Choa to the side.  The blonde singer was on her butt, stunned and confused about what had just happened.  Mina uttered a small scream of pain as the woman twisted her arm sharply behind her back, holding her in a painful hammerlock hold.

Samantha moaned as her only hope of rescue was easily subdued.  The clerk herself had been somehow charmed, almost hypnotized into her current predicament.  Resisting as the two girls had tried had proven quite futile as well, the Chinese woman moving with a fluid speed and grace, as she had disarmed Choa and knocked her feet out from under her while getting Mina into a hold the girl had no hope of escaping from.

“Who are you, what do you want from us?” Mina asked, stepping up onto her toes to alleviate the painful pressure in her arms and shoulder.

“I am Pet, and I want to play with you.”  Mina whimpered as Pet twisted her arm.

“Now Choa, get up,” she ordered sharply.

“How do you know my name?” Choa asked, struggling to get up.  Part of her wanted to look for some way of escaping, but she was afraid of what Pet would do to Mina, so she never took her eyes off the gorgeous Chinese woman.

“I know all of your names.  Like Mina here,” she said, giving Mina’s arm another painful twist.  “She was born on September 21, 1993, and that she’s your bassist.  I know all sorts of little trivia facts about all you Angels.  But it’s useless information.  Your birthday is today.  Today is the day you begin your new lives.  You’re going to learn to play new instruments.”  Maintaining a firm grip on Mina’s arm, her other hand wandered down the girl’s body, her fingers easing under the waistband of Mina’s tight black yoga pants.  Choa could see her hand in great detail as it burrowed under the tight black cotton fabric.

Mina moaned as Pet’s hand slipped inside her panties, her fingers caressing the lips of her sex.  “Human genitalia is a far more intricate instrument than any mankind has ever produced.  If you master playing them, you’ll excel in your new lives.  If you don’t, well, there’s plenty of people willing to stick their dick into any wet hole, and that’s about all you’ll be good for.”

Mina squealed as Pet’s nimble fingers found her clit, stroking it.

“Let her go,” Choa screamed, reaching her breaking point.  She clenched her fists again, poised to strike again.

Mina screamed as Pet pinched her clit, digging in her with black manicured nails.  

“Ah ah ah,” Pet chided.  “The pussy is also a very delicate instrument.  When tuning it, it’s so easy to go to far and snap a string, so to speak.”

Choa stood down, looking on helplessly.  Pet relented on her grip, and went back to massaging Mina’s clit.

“But once you get it tuned up properly,” she said, working her magic on Mina, “You can really play some beautiful music.”  She slipped first one finger into Mina, her soft folds slick with her juices and inviting.  Mina uttered a high pitched scream of surprise, but also pleasure, and Pet slid another finger into her.

Choa could only look on as Pet brought her friend to a screaming orgasm in seconds.  Pet extracted her talented fingers from Mina and released her arm, and the girl slumped to her knees in front of Pet, panting.

Pet sniffed her fingers, slick with Mina’s juices.  She shoved the fingers into Mina’s mouth, the girl moaning as she was forced to taste herself.  “Get used to that taste, little Angel.  And Choa, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”



Hyejeong’s head was even fuzzier than the first time she’d woken up.  She wasn’t blessed with the temporary memory loss this time.  She was aware, however vaguely, that she’d been drugged and kidnapped, and was waking up for the second time in the abandoned house in the woods.

She was missing her shirt this time.  The filthy couch brushing against her bare back as she woke up once more, groggy and disoriented.

The girl sat up, the room immediately spinning.  She’d only ever been hung over once.  This was worse.  Far worse.

But still, the impending sense of threat forced her to move.  She had to find the others, had to find help.  As she stood up, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she was sure she was going to vomit.  She leaned on the arm of the couch for a minute until the sensation passed, and she began to take stock of her surroundings.  

She was once again in a small room, on the second floor, and it was still night.  She was just wearing her sweat pants and bra, no sign of her missing clothes and shoes or the contents of her pockets.

Hyejeong looked at the door, remembering her panicked dash down the dark passageway, her flight down the stairs, reaching the door, being so close to freedom, only to have it snatched away from her at the last second.

Her hand was frozen, poised hovering over the doorknob, paralyzed by indecisiveness.  She couldn’t stay in the room, and going out the window wasn’t an option.  But there was light in this room.  She felt like a little girl again, memories of the boogeyman hiding in her closet came rushing back, unbidden.  Countless nights spent curled up in her bed, staring at the closet door, knowing that there was something bad in there, and if she opened that door, she’d let the bad thing out.

But she wasn’t a little girl anymore, and there was no such thing as the boogeyman.  There was something far worse.  A very real man who had drugged and kidnapped her and brought her here, and had drugged her again when she’d tried to escape.  And the light in this room wouldn’t protect her.  She was no safer in that room than she was in the hall.

Hyejeong twisted the handle, her heart nearly stopping in her chest at the agonizingly loud squeak of the rusty hinges as she pulled the door open.

Her captor already knew she was there, the sounds weren’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.  Knowing that didn’t make it any less terrifying as Hyejeong put on bare foot out into the hall, but it did help her move forward.  She crept on tiptoe, cringing at every squeak of the old floorboards, into the dark hallway, the light of the room growing dimmer with every step.

As her eyes adjusted tot he growing gloom, she could make out a faint light coming from downstairs.  She forced herself to slow her rapid breathing as she approached the top of the stairs, slowly creeping down them.

A small work light was set up over a table.  The table was covered in all sorts of bottles and beakers and vials and syringes.  Part of her told her to move on, make a break for the door, but she kept padding across the floor towards the table.  She told herself it was to get a weapon.  She had a good idea what those bottles might be full of, and if she had a syringe full of whatever was in those, she might stand a chance when her abductor showed up again.

She didn’t even notice the man in the shadows watching her make her way across the room.  She was so focused on keeping her breathing under control, her own rapid heartbeat beating in her ears, that she didn’t hear him move swiftly and silently across the room.  

Hyejeong barely felt the prick of the needle in the back of her shoulder.  Her body suddenly felt heavier.  The rapid pounding of her heart seemed to slow down, and her breathing got shallower.

“Whaap haappenninnn,” she said, surprised at her own slurred speech.  Her tongue was heavy and awkward in her mouth.  She turned in what felt like slow motion, her reaction of shock at seeing the man in all black standing behind her severely delayed.

The bearded man caught her as her legs suddenly refused to support her weight anymore.  “Shhhh,” he said.  “You’ll get to try them all,” he said, spinning her to face the table again.  

“Pleabs, nooo,” she moaned, staring at the table of soporific chemicals between longer and longer blinks as her eyelids got heavier and heavier.

“All in good time,” he whispered.  She was vaguely aware of his hands unhooking her bra.  She couldn’t muster the strength to fight, to even protest as she felt him pull her bra off.  She felt the cool air against her bare nipples, and they, seemingly unburdened by the paralytic ravaging the rest of her senses, slowly sprung to attention in the cool air.

Drool spilled from her open mouth as she was unable to even close it, a single drop falling from the corner of her mouth as her head lolled to the side, splashing on her small, pink nipple.  Darby’s rubbed the saliva into her small, pert boob as she passed out in his arms for the third time.