Read The Wrangler: The only thing standing between the beautiful kidnapped heiress and death was -- The Wrangler. for Free Online

bifurcation between sentences for kidnappers who killed their victims and those who didn't.
    When he was sure Christine wasn't going to choke, he left her alone.
    He checked the telltales he'd put around the room to make sure no one was dicking with him. They were all as he'd left them. Good, it raised his chances of getting out of this job in one piece considerably.
    Then he left Christine alone.
    Christine didn't notice, she was too busy resting. The new posture was not all that comfortable. Sure, she was on her back, but her arms were tied behind her, which meant she was lying on top of them. What's more her legs were spread wide apart, which bothered her a LOT more now that she knew that the men who had her would take advantage of that fact.
    Of course, they had not taken advantage of her when she been bound this way previously. Why should they? They literally had physical control of her. She could not move unless they wanted her to. She belonged to them, not in the way she had belonged to her family or to her college, but in the way their cigarette lighters and clothing and such belonged to them.
    She was a thing they had acquired, to be used as such. She knew that now. She knew it in her bones, it wasn't anything she had to think about.
    In one respect, this realization was frightening. She knew they'd kill her now if they wanted to, with no more thought than they'd give to snuffing out the flame of a cigarette lighter.
    On the other hand it was a comforting thought. Because she knew that they were keeping her alive for a reason. If they had wanted her dead, they would have killed her without hesitation. The straightforward way they had raped her showed her that in a way that mere threatening words never could.
    So when the next guy came in and raped her, it was almost a relief. If he was raping her, he was not killing her.
    Because until she'd been raped, Christine had a core of certitude that they wouldn't rape her or kill her. She was young and beautiful and wealthy, or at least her family was, which was pretty much the same thing. Bad things didn't happen to her. The rape had shown her she was wrong about that. And now she had a cold, wrenching fear of death in her gut that was very different from the lurid fears she'd felt prior to the rape.
    This was different from any fear that she'd ever felt in her life. It was worse in ways she couldn't even put a name to. She had a vivid, strong, undeniable grasp of the notion that there might not be anything at all for her on the other side of this bedroom -- that the blackness of the hood that enclosed her head was just a harbinger for the greater blackness that would soon replace her life with ... nothing.
    The rape was a huge improvement over that. Anything that distracted her from the cold, remorseless gnawing of the fear of death was a good thing, a very good thing.
    It didn't feel like a good thing, in fact, in certain respects it was more painful than the previous rapes. For one thing, she was still sore and stiff from the previous rapes. But more than that, she was still lying atop her pinioned arms, and now the guy lying on top of her was also lying on top of her pinioned arms. And he was a LOT bigger than she was -- all of them were.
    That added to the discomfort, because her face was often buried in his chest. That and the weight of him pressing down on her made breathing a lot more difficult. Struggling to breathe was her major activity during the rape, mainly because it was all she could do.
    The other major problem she had was the way the man pounded into her splayed-open legs. Unlike her usual sexual partners, he made no effort to keep the weight of his body off hers, he just laid into her. With her legs tied so far apart, it put a huge strain on joints. Every thrust made her feel as though her legs were being pulled out of their sockets.
    She cried out through her gag with every thrust, not because she thought he would relent, but because it was all she could