Dan has a plan, but first he has to monologue a bit

"Stay right here, Joy. Don't walk off with my car," he laughs, and walks to a door in the warehouse.

"Dan! Let me go! Dan? Fuck," you mutter, as Dan disappears. A short look at your situation makes it abundantly clear that you're helpless. You just have to hope this didn't do any damage to your precious breasts. As if hearing your thoughts the two mammaries throb painfully, and you rest your head again on the hood of the car.

The click of a door opening brings your head up in a flash. You're not going to let Dan see you looking defeated, you're going to stand tall - ouch - well, maybe a little slouched, and you're going to act confident.

"Dan, let me out!" you whine as you see him exit the building. He has that same annoying shark-like grin. You really wish you had a pair of stilettos you could jam in his eyes, but you have to settle for giving him the eye of ****.

Dan chuckles as he rounds the car. When his hand smacks your ass you tense. The only reason you don't kick him is that you know you're completely at his mercy.

"What a great body you have, Joy. Really. I've watched it grow and I've counted the days until you hit eighteen."

"Ew," you say, surprising yourself.

"And then," he says, continuing as if you hadn't said anything, "I had to wait so long to get a chance to do what I wanted."

"Fuck me? Believe me, it wasn't that great," you sneer.

Dan just laughs, spanking your butt again. "Such spirit! You know, it's a shame to deprive the world of a body like yours."

A chill passes through you and comprehension dawns. You know, with the utmost certainty, that he doesn't intend to let you go or let you live. While he's looking self-satisfied you turn just enough to rear back your knee, and fuelled by all your might and desperation it crushes his balls.

Dan barely utters a squeak as he collapses, but you've still got plenty of air in your own lungs to start screaming and hollering. "Help! ****! Fire! Help! ****!" You scream all the things you can think of that might bring someone running, right up until you jerk back in another futile attempt to escape the window's vice-grip.

You utter a squeak of your own at that point, your legs nearly giving out, but as you sink downwards you hear a door slam open, and a potential saviour cries out, "Hey! What's going on here?"