East Coast Slavers Organization

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 03 – A Fresh Start in Miami (or Setting up for Operations)

 

Now only three months after that night in the Los Angeles bar, Aaron Clarke is in Coral Gables, just south of Miami. He has a lot of work to do. His friend Steve Austin gave him some basic guidance on how to set up an expansion operation of his west coast business. Steve selected Miami for a number of reasons. They were now in the 'international shipping business' together. Aaron's new business cards identified him as an 'international marketing specialist.' The two friends had developed full and complete trust in one another while serving together in Bosnia, and other locales, in a special operations capable force recon unit and Steve freely shared the details of his operation. Aaron quickly discovered in the conversation that night in Los Angeles that there was little basis in legitimacy for Steve's business. He worked both on specific commissions and built up stock on a speculative basis for future orders, auctions, or quick turn-around assignments. Steve dealt only with the most expensive merchandise, human slaves. In only two years, Steve forged the largest slaving operation in the western United States. A key factor in his success was the combination of rich and kinky clientele along with an array of sympathetic artisans: doctors, surgeons, tattoo and piercing specialists, etc.

Steve Austin's customers wanted slaves for a range of reasons including sexual domination to bizarre body modification. He made the most money off revenge commissions; kidnappings, punishment, and enslavings of specific targets.

A lot of his accomplishments to date were sheer drudgery. Aaron was using his own front money that he had earned from his first business dealing with Steve. He got both a fixed fee and then a substantial commission after the job was finished to the client's specifications. Everything had gone much better than expected.

Aaron's first business on the east coast took place a few miles away in southern Miami Beach itself. Steve had given Aaron the name and some basic details about a document forger he knew in Miami. The guy really didn't have an office. He held court in front of a small café facing the beach. Aaron walked along the street until he saw the right place. Sure enough, a little wiry guy with a beat-up straw hat sat in exactly the spot Steve described. Aaron hesitated, and then strode forward to stand beside the table. "Senor Ricardo Manapat?" Aaron asked the old man respectfully.

Mr. Manapat slowly looked up to Aaron and whispered, "Yes, and how am I supposed to know whom you are?"

Aaron slowly sat down across from the old man. "'El Gigante' sends his regards from the west coast and told me that you would know me by this," Aaron answered as he slid what looked like a local Cuban sandwich wrapped in white butcher paper across the table. "He sends his respects, and thanks for the help you gave him in Nicaragua that last time."

Mr. Manapat's eyes flickered from the white package on the tabletop and back to Aaron. "Is there a certain number involved in that?" he asked, while he nodded toward the package.

Aaron started to breathe easier. Steve told him that if Mr. Manapat objected to working with an associate of Steve's, or if he took a dislike to Aaron, then he would simply take the money and walk away. Aaron answered back, "He told me you like things in multiples of $3,500 for some reason. I decided that five was the proper number; that's $17,500 up front, in case you could do everything I need."

"And, that would be?" Mr. Manapat prompted.

"Clean papers for me – ID, passport, social security card. Four sets of each. I need one new identity for another person and I need everything within two to three weeks. The passports can be last." Aaron tried to sound like he had done this before.

"No problem," the old man said. He reached into a small pouch on his seat, and pulled out a business card. "See her anytime in the afternoon. She will do any necessary pictures and get your preferences."

Aaron reached across for the card and the Cuban grabbed his hand. "One more thing, she's my granddaughter, and she stays out of your business."

"Senor, I don't complicate my business dealings, and I never mix business with pleasure. She is safe on both accounts, you have my word."

Everything went smoothly. Rebecca Manapat, the granddaughter, efficiently took a series of pictures with different backgrounds. Some were for IDs and some for the passports. Aaron handed over a couple of photographs that Steve provided of a Doctor Patricia Kay, a business associate that might have to relocate soon. Rebecca was to retouch the photos she liked best to change the lady from a blonde to a redhead. Rebecca agreed to all the work at no extra charge. Aaron didn't ask any questions, suppressing his natural curiosity. He realized it was safer not to get involved in their forgery business any more than he needed to.

Aaron used the next few days to scout around the area for apartments and possible warehouse space. Within a week, Rebecca left a message on his cell phone that his order was ready.

Aaron's identity plans were simple. In order to keep his identity as Aaron Clarke from being associated with any illegal act, he created a layer of false identities and specific property associations. Thus, he was to never identity himself as Aaron, or allow a connection to be made between his upcoming business actions and Aaron Clarke. His plan entailed the creation of another fallback identity to further buffer himself. This person, one Robert Morgan would be his legitimate business persona and linked to a car and a seldom-used town home in Miami. The creation of two working identities was required. Aaron felt it best to limit the working identities to a rented post office box rather than use one of his addresses. A courier service would pick up his mail daily and conduct weekly deliveries to a drop-point arranged via e-mail embedded with recognition words. Michael Moore would be his primary identity for his British Virgin Islands operations, John Rice the identity for work in the American Virgin Islands, and Robert Morgan for Miami. The fourth identity was to be legitimate and not associated with any aspect of Aaron's new business. The warehouse would be rented in this name. Aaron planned to work out of, and sleep at the warehouse most often. His local rental townhouse was for Robert Morgan's use only.

Rebecca's work was impeccable. Aaron was ready to get started on his enterprise.

Aaron moved quickly, leasing a townhouse and a warehouse, each on one-year agreements. He told the commercial rental agent that his business would not really get going for at least six months; but he needed to commit now on a location. "I'll bring you the architectural review drawings for the interior modifications in about three months. Till then, I'll just move a few things in to get ready."

The agent agreed. She had a commercial lease in hand and no responsibilities associated with it for at least three months. Another reason for being happy about the situation, she thought he would take the renewal option that was open for up to five years. After the six years, she could renegotiate the lease. Both left happy with the business they had negotiated.

He paid cash for the first three months and she helped set up insurance for anything he might store in the warehouse. The warehouse was located in a light industrial district within a mile or so of some popular nightspots and a large hospital trauma center.

He next had bank accounts set up. Aaron used all four new identities to open accounts in different banks around town. An initial deposit of $4,200 cash opened each account. Yeah, it was chump change, but he knew enough to stay below the Treasury Department's radar screen. As planned, he tied the first identity's bank account to Robert Morgan and the townhouse. The accounts in the other two identities' names were for operational travel. He set it up so that the other identities claimed the same address, the post office box. His most protected identity used the warehouse as an address.

Aaron arranged to meet a local electrician and a plumber at his new warehouse. His needs were simple. Aaron wanted to have a digital remote control to operate both the heavy roll-up doors and to control the interior lights. He also needed electric circuits and plumbing run into the center of the warehouse. The work was easy and the workers finished the work within a few days. Aaron also contracted for the construction and delivery of sixteen identical pre-fabricated rooms. Each was twelve-feet wide, fifteen-feet deep, and with ten-foot ceilings. The only opening constructed was a five-foot-wide arch in the middle of the shortest wall. Aaron ordered six ten-by-ten, high-security cages to store weapons and other expensive equipment in. It would take about four weeks to get delivery on everything being fabricated.

He knew that the car Steve bought him in Los Angeles had to be kept at 'arms length' from his other identities and addresses. The car was moved to a long-term storage unit. His best option to get new transportation was to lease. He completed contracts on a white panel van and a beige box-body truck in a 'U-Haul-style' design with 16 feet of space in the back. Aaron used the warehouse to store vehicles that he wasn't currently using.

A local shipping company sent over three heavy steel trans-oceanic shipping containers and several hundred small cardboard file storage boxes with lots of strapping tape. The containers were the larger forty-foot ones that were self-contained with dual-power refrigeration units. Two were set parallel to each other with a seven-foot gap between them. If you looked into the warehouse from the roll-up doors, the containers were perpendicular to your line of view. The access doors from each container faced to the left. The third container was atop the first two; its access doors also faced to the left. The electrician had already dropped power cords down from the ceiling to feed each refrigeration unit and setup an electric panel service lead for the top container. The plumber had left capped off hot and cold water lines as well as a septic drain line. Aaron set the temperature controls for 75 degrees, but didn't turn the units on yet. He left the double, hinged swinging doors open. Over the next few days, suppliers dropped things off and he unloaded a number of van loads of gear he had purchased with cash himself, not wanting to establish a paper trail of these purchases to the warehouse or one of his identities.

--L--A--T--E--R--

Several days later, while still in the midst of establishing operations, a call from his long-time friend and new partner Steve Austin interrupted Aaron. Steve was worried about his deteriorating relationship with a doctor he often used in Miami. "Remember our discussion at the bar that night?" Steve cued Aaron. "Well, I'm afraid something bad might be happening with that friend of mine. I think you need to stop by her office and explore things with her. You know. I need a fishing expedition to see if she needs our help. Don't go to her home yet. I don't want her to get skittish too soon unless you find a problem at work."

Aaron knew Steve was asking him to spy on Doctor Kay to determine if her greed was getting her back into trouble with the authorities. His first concern was obviously any link at her office to Steve's west-coast shipping business. Aaron conveyed his acceptance of the mission, but did voice some misgivings about the timing. "We are kinda crunched here now. Things should be set up fully in a few weeks," Aaron mentioned.

Nonetheless, that very night Aaron was snooping through the doctor's files in her office. Entry was easy. A little over a year ago, Doctor Kay contacted Steve Austin to take care of a problem that resulted from the doctor's greed. In order for Steve resolve her problem, Doctor Kay had thoughtfully provided keys to her office and home as well as passes, cards, and alarm information.

Aaron found nothing in the office to link Doctor Kay with Steve. In fact, the office files were almost too clean, too perfect. Aaron felt that maybe she had another set of books elsewhere. Steve was shortly satisfied that things were all right. "If things seem to get worse from my end, I will have you visit her at her home next," Steve directed via cell phone.

As Aaron was preparing to leave, he walked around the corner and nearly bumped into a cleaning lady. Unbeknownst to him, a local cleaning service had the clinic on its schedule for cleaning that evening. The girl screamed and hesitated briefly before turning to run away.

The hesitation was all that Aaron needed. His quicker reflexes allowed him to viciously tackle the petite girl and wrestle her to the floor. His dick was delighted at the feel his hands and body were getting from the soft and lush figure below him. Her struggling form only increased his ardor. He quickly bound her and gagged her mouth to stop the screaming. Aaron rolled her over and looked into her bulging eyes. She was young and shapely, although not beautiful, and barely cute. A wedding ring announced her marital status.

He stopped his musing and focused himself on the task. He didn't have much time and rolled over the struggling maid. He tucked her dress up above her ass. Under her black panties, she wore a full-body black stocking. "Kind of a weird way to dress – a sexy body stocking and panties. How would you pee tonight? Get undressed first?" Aaron pondered aloud. He shook his head and took a syringe filled with a solution similar to a 'roofie', only with added tranquilizers and muscle relaxers. The cocktail of drugs had effective amnesia-like properties. If it worked right, the girl would remember nothing past getting in her car for work that night. "Hope this stuff works as advertised," Aaron mused.

Aaron duct-taped the subdued cleaning lady, jammed a couple of cleaning rags into her mouth, and threw her into the back of his van. He then took the girl's keys from her purse and drove the cleaning service vehicle to the opposite end of the industrial complex. He parked the car beside a city bus stop there. The girl's purse was thrown into the back seat, all cash or credit cards removed. The windows were open and the keys placed in the ignition.

Aaron then accomplished his most dangerous act of the night – a one-mile walk back through the dark industrial complex to his truck. He was also carrying stolen credit cards and another person's driver's license. Aaron loosened his handy 9-mm in his waistband just in case he encountered someone.

Back at his van, he started up and drove across town, carefully observing the speed limits and traffic lights. He used a remote to open one of his warehouse doors and he drove inside. Despite his military training, the night's developments exhausted him. It is only 11:00.

Aaron opened the van's rear door and checked his captive. The drugs coursing through her veins had set in; she was asleep.

"Shit! Lady, you stepped into a cow pattie in the wrong place," murmured Aaron in an exasperated tone. He ripped off all of her clothes except for the body stocking and carried her inside a shipping container. He threw her onto a mattress. She lay in a partially finished room within a steel shipping container set up for a woman 'guest'. Only one wall was painted, but the furniture was in place. Blue binding rope quickly made the woman helpless. "We will clean this up latter," he muttered and walked away. He is reluctant to do what he knows he has to do.

After two quick cold beers, Aaron approached the container holding his unwitting captive. "Gotta make it look like an abduction and rape," he muttered. He cut off her body stocking in pieces and pulled them under the binding rope. As she was starting to struggle, Aaron prepared another drug cocktail and injected her now bare ass. Then, taking a riding crop, he methodically whipped her naked body from her toes to the top of her head. Nothing was spared, not even her face.

Aaron then dragged her body across the warehouse floor, intentionally inflicting greater damage to her bruised body. The young cleaning lady was draped across a sofa not yet installed in the living area. He matter-of-factly rolled on a condom and fucked her ass. His prick was fully swollen, the barely lubricated condom ripped into her virgin ass. Blood spotted the brown sphincter winking at his plunging rod. The plastic covering on the new sofa crinkled and rustled as he thrust his hips against her ass.

Despite the sexlessness of the act, Aaron knew he had to hurry as time was quickly passing. Her coworkers and husband may already have noticed that she was missing. Hopefully, the company vehicle she used had already been stolen and was long gone.

Not having planned to entertain at the warehouse so early in establishing operations, there were no 'toys' to help in the mock gang rape of the unconscious girl. Aaron resolved to make buying loads of bondage kit and burglary tools a top priority. Aaron's rape and abuse was intended to make it look as if a gang apprehended the girl as she drove to work. He did have a large police-style flashlight. He rolled several condoms on the beast of a fake cock. He hoped to soften its hard surface before he drove it up her already brutalized asshole. The huge 'cock' manipulated the just-brutalized asshole making it look as if it was a mouth attempting to suck off the flashlight. "She'll have hemorrhoids for a while," he thought. "But, better than a burst intestine, or death for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

His next abuse was a perfunctorily fuck, this time in her untouched cunt. Having just cum once, Aaron was able to make this fuck last much longer, further aggravating her tender cunt tissue. After he was finished, he carefully moved the soiled nightstick-shaped flashlight into her cunt. "This will make it look more like a gangbang," he thought. As a last round of abuse, he pinched, punched, and slapped her unconscious form to add more evidence of an out-of-control rape session.

The girl was hosed off thoroughly to remove any forensic evidence. The wet and unbound girl was then loaded onto a sheet of plastic in the van.

He carefully drove across Miami to a nightclub where he propped her naked form against a wall in an adjacent dark passageway. "Hope she is found by a kinder soul than I. Innocents should not be treated this badly for no apparent reason," he reflected as he carefully drove away.

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com