East Coast Slavers Organization

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 05 – An Island Vacation (or Down the Rabbit Hole)

Michael Moore opened the door and smiled at the hesitant woman who had just tentatively knocked at his suite. He greeted her with a welcoming smile and grabbed her travel bag. "Hello Ingrid, you look lovely. Welcome. We have dinner reservations at a restaurant overlooking the harbor in forty minutes. If you wish, you can use the bedroom and bath to freshen up. You will find everything you need already there.

She was surprised to see the same witty and charming person she had first chatted with on the morning flight. Ingrid walked through the luxurious suite, not noticing that her unneeded bag was behind her in the living room.

"I trust you'll find everything you need here," Michael said as he steered her to the master bedroom suite. A lovely summer frock lay draped across the bed. Matching clutch bag, sandals, and a bra and panty set completed her ensemble for the evening. Michael continued, "I've arranged for any cosmetics and toiletries you might need to freshen up," as he theatrically swept his arm across the room to the bathroom. "We leave in 30 minutes."

The weary girl hardly noticed that he left and closed the door behind him. Ingrid fingered the light summer dress and expensive accessories. She actually grinned as she thought, "Nice taste for a sex monster."

After a brisk and refreshing shower, Ingrid was feeling much better. Toweling off her full breasts in front of the foggy bathroom mirror she was surprised to see a pair of matching jewelry boxes on the vanity with the world-famous Mikimoto logo boldly emblazoned on the tops. "Holy shit! What is this?" she asked aloud. Inside the largest oblong box was an eighteen-inch pearl necklace nestled in black velvet. A small note lay over the pearls that simply proclaimed, "Thanks for today, it was very special to me! ---- love Michael." A smaller box contained the matching pearl earrings to complete the set.

"They are gorgeous," she exclaimed. She simply melted just looking at them. To a young woman, nothing beats jewelry for turning a heart toward romance. A few minutes later, she admired her reflection in the mirror. She saw a strikingly beautiful dark-haired creature staring back in a soft flowing dress. The thin shoulder straps and low bodice left plenty of tanned flesh to highlight the gorgeous strand of pearls. The fashion conscious lady knew the jewelry alone was worth about $10,000. Her eyes and hands also lingered possessively across the extensive and incredibly expensive array of designer makeup that Michael had furnished.

Michael was reaping the benefits of a hushed conversation with the resort's accommodating head concierge. A few basic sizes and parameters, and within hours an excited crowd of owners of exclusive shops excitedly presented their best for his decision. He paid cash for everything and tipped exorbitantly. He wanted to establish a reputation for class and generosity to completely set the trap for Ingrid and Connie.

A few expensive bondage toys were discreetly offered in a more private setting. Michael only picked a few of the more erotic and 'fun' items; foregoing for now anything too kinky.

Fifteen minutes later the resort limousine dropped of the couple at the Pussers Road Town Pub and Company Store. The concierge had insisted on offering the resort limousine after finding out the extent of the evening's plan during the shopping extravaganza.

Ingrid had an inkling that Michael had parted with thousands of dollars to make this evening perfect. Before the Pussers' maître d' was able to seat them at the restaurant, a small but efficient hotel staff swept through his suite. Everything was straightened, linens freshened, and eight large vases of tropical flowers arranged around the suite. A large covered silver tray was placed upon a heaping bed of ice, as were four bottles of champagne in their respective buckets. Sweet-smelling candles were also set throughout the suite. Later, when the lobby staff saw the limousine return, a bellboy was already prepped to run up, light all the candles, dim the lights, and open the first bottle of champagne.

Another small group of workers from a local video arts and visual production firm also showed up. They hid four cameras in strategic places in the living room, bedroom, and bath. As directed, each was triggered by a dual microwave motion / audio sensor. The cameras and their video tape would capture everything that transpired that night.

Thus far, the evening was going impossibly well for Ingrid. She could not believe the personal attention she had received from everyone. Michael was treated with quiet respect; but she was treated like a fragile princess. Her limousine door was whisked open and an attendant offered her his arm, gently moving her toward the reservation table at the restaurant entry. It seemed every greeting toward the couple was directed at herself. Yes, … she was having fun.

They laughed and chatted during drinks and through dinner. Not once was the morning episode mentioned. She eagerly followed his story of Kokichi Mikimoto's discovery of the cultured pearl process in 1893.

Ingrid asked about the pearls. "Well," Michael responded, "That is an eighteen-inch princess length strand. The pearls are all AAA quality, 6.5 mm saltwater ayoya pearls. Isn't it gorgeous on you?"

"Yes, it is lovely, … but is it too, … expensive?" she responded with some hesitation.

"Ingrid, the pearls only match your elegance," he smoothly replied.

"But, you have to return it. It is too much," she repeated.

"I can tell you that I enjoyed selecting the jewelry for you. It is well worth the wonderful times I will have on our thirty-six hours together. It is freely given, for you to keep. I only hope to see you in it on other occasions."

Her eyes rapidly flickered up to his, and then away as she meekly questioned, "Other times?"

"Yes, love. I hope we can get together occasionally to rekindle our special lust. After all, nobody has ever fired me up like you did today. And, ..." He dramatically paused before leaning forward and raising his glass, "I have assigned you a diminutive play name – My Little Piggy." He grinned at the stricken girl and moved his glass toward hers.

She froze in the automatic act of grabbing her own glass as the words sunk in.

Michael repeated the words with a little steel in his voice, "Repeat after me, …. To My Little Piggy." He stared into Ingrid's frightened eyes. "Do it!" he hissed.

Ingrid flushed scarlet and nearly fainted form the shock. "Ahh, … ahh. To My Little Piggy," she stuttered in dismay.

"Good!, Good Little Piggy!" Michael smiled and sat back in his chair. "You better understand that I demand full participation in my work and play partners. Anything, I ask, you will do. Without question!" Michael softened his voice and added, "What I like for enjoyment, romance, and sex is now part of your life, Ingrid."

The quick turnabout crushed Ingrid. Just as she thought this could be a normal relationship like one she craved; he changed the rules for the worse. She had hoped that the morning's loss of control would not be repeated.

"Smile my love, tonight will be the best sex of your life, I guarantee. If not, simply tell me when I drop you off for your flight in thirty-six hours. In that case, you need never see me again."

She slumped down in the chair. She was once again forced into something far beyond her ability to control. "I only have to do this, and it will end," she said to herself, knowing full well that that day's sex had already been the best she had ever had; albeit mostly at her own hand.

"Now Piggy, time to play," Michael said. "We are pretty secluded back here and it's getting late. I have some instructions for you to follow." He then reached down by his seat where someone had earlier left a bag sent on by the hotel concierge. He pulled out a large package, set it on the table, and said, "I'm going to the men's room. Open the package and follow the instructions exactly." Without looking back, he strode away.

Ingrid stared at the beautifully wrapped package with some concern. She was sure she would not like what it contained. With trembling fingers, she carefully opened the box, ensuring that nobody saw what might be inside. A note sat atop several small items, each wrapped in velvet. The note said:

"My Little Piggy, do these tasks in this order and do not fail me. Once you start, you only have five minutes. Love Michael.

1 – Take off panties and place on your desert plate

2 – Slip out of your bra; put it on the plate by your panties

3 – Unwrap the top item and place on your ankles – you will know what to do

4 – Unwrap the next item and insert it in a way you know it must go

5 – Turn on the switch

6 – Drape the shawl across your shoulders – it will keep the evening chill away

7 – Set the box on the floor beside you

8 – Use the last item to secure your hands – in front

"Oh, God," she said as she saw that the second sheet of the note was a glossy color print of her face, contorted with lust. In the photo, two male hands were clearly mauling her breasts through her torn American Airlines uniform. The aircraft interior in the scene left no doubt as to the location of Ingrid's sexual act. "Ohh, it's started and he holds all the cards. Shit, shit, shit," she was nearly numb with terror at what might happen after this. Only the picture kept her from running away. She stuffed it into her clutch purse for safekeeping and looked to the note again.

Numbly she scooted her rump forward and tugged her dress up around her waist. She knew it needed to be out of the way for steps numbered one and four. Her nearly transparent violet panties momentarily were stuck on her sandals. Her moist ass stuck instantly to the leather seat under her rump. The bra was easy to remove. It was a strapless, Band-Aid-style bra that clasped in the back. It came free with a practiced move of her fingers. She hesitated and tried to crumple the two wispy items on her desert plate. The flimsy violet silk simply unfolded before her eyes like a flower blossom. She hurriedly placed the box in front of her plate.

Her eyes bulged out as she saw what the first wrapped item was. It was large and heavy – obviously, it was a set of ankle cuffs with hobble chain. Her pussy began to loosen and dampen. "Traitorous pussy," she accused.

She saw that the cuffs had a male end and a female receiver for the strap that went around her ankle. It had no lock or release. "Wonder how this stays on?" she asked herself. The cuffs' leather ends easily slid into the socket, and self-latched itself. The metal chain links in the hobble softly rustled as she placed her legs back down on the floor.

Now she really became concerned. The fourth item was, as expected, a battery-powered electric vibrator. What shook her to the core was that the purple monstrosity was obviously meant to go into both her holes – at the same time. A small tag on the seven-inch rabbit-style vibrator said simply, "I go in dry!"

"How do I sit on that pedestal base," she wailed to herself." She wildly looked around for some help. Nobody even noticed the upset woman in the dark corner of the restaurant. She scooted forward to the edge of the seat and wriggled the large head around her pussy area. "Ahhhh," she groaned aloud. Despite her fears, she was worked up. When wet, the smooth texture of the cock's head was slippery and electric-feeling as it slid around her swelling pussy lips. "Ohhh," she murmured as the lumpy head slipped inside her hot box. Several inches slid in easily to the next bulbous section. This part had tiny protruding stimulator bumps. She rotated the remaining cock outside her now steaming pussy and pushed in. The anal penetrator hit her clit with a painful nudge. "Owwww, fuck," that hurt she groaned in some pain. "Crap, forgot to rotate this thing back to my, …" she simply couldn't speak the 'ass' word while associating it with anal sex.

Knowing she had no choice, she carefully set the small 'wand' against her dry, tight grommet and sat on it. "Ohhh, eiiiii, owww," grunts and groans escaped her lips as the dry phallus bottomed out. She was sitting on the rectangular base now. With only a slight pause, she reached down and flicked the switch to the on position. It buzzed to life. Michael had set the programmable dildo to a setting where its vibrating intensity slowly increased to nearly an unbearable level before it reset and started over again.

The next item was bulky and soft. It was a beautiful crocheted shawl with a broach pin. It went over her shoulders with relief. The white shawl draped down over her breasts, hiding her rock-hard nipples that were quite obvious through the thin sundress.

She set the box down and pulled out the last item. It was not a pair of handcuffs. Instead they were a wicked little set of, … thumb cuffs. The key was of course, missing. Ingrid twisted and contorted until the vile little monsters were on her thumbs. She sat and waited for Michael.

She ended up waiting for at least thirty minutes. By then, the restaurant was nearly empty. Their busboy came to get the last plates. For the first time that evening, Ingrid did not enjoy the attention she got. The brash boy slid up beside her and stared at the underwear plainly visible on the tabletop. He grinned at her, and then silently placed an ornate placard in front of each of the two chairs. The first proclaimed, "Mr. Michael Moore" in bold black script plainly visible on both sides. Her placard stated, "My Little Piggy" in equally bold script. She could have died from humiliation. However, the dastardly vibrator picked that moment to step up its quivering inside her drooling cunt. A quiet, almost silent, "Ohhhhh," escaped her lips.

The busboy then picked up a dainty violet lingerie item in each hand and in a haughty voice asked, "Is Madam certain she is finished with these?"

She could only nod her head with shame and increasing excitement. Her ass squirmed around a little, driving the two vibrators deeper into her holes. "Yes," she hissed as the now officious little creep left the table.

Next though, the head waiter came marching up to her table with the two pieces of discarded underwear held up in one hand. "If Madam would be so kind as to drop these off herself in the Ladies' Room. It is not the sort of thing I want my staff touching. Thank you very much." With that he stood there expectantly. "Now Madame, we cannot have the health department discover your discarded under things just laying around! Shoo! Shoo!" the waiter who had so respectful treated her before, directed the astounded young woman toward the nearest restroom.

She reached out her cuffed hands to gather the offending items and slid sideways off her leather chair. The waiter smirked and made no offer of assistance. With as much dignity as possible, the thoroughly humiliated woman carefully inched her way toward the restroom, chains softly tinkling and violet underwear openly held by her two joined hands.

Moments later, she was back at her seat, still waiting for Michael. Finally, he came back into the dining room leading another woman.

"Ingrid, this is Connie Baxter, my real estate agent. We just bumped into each other in the lounge and had some wonderful drinks and a chat. Connie, this is my friend Ingrid Gaviard, she's a senior flight attendant for American Airlines. We met on this morning's flight."

Ingrid smiled as best she could under the circumstances and nodded her head. The two girls exchanged greetings. Ingrid was relieved that Michael at least described her job correctly. Like most modern flight attendants, she disliked the phrase stewardess. Unfortunately, the vibrator stepped up another notch and she squeaked unexpectedly. "Sorry," she apologized, "I shouldn't have tried to hold in a sneeze."

Connie looked at the ornate nametags and was somewhat taken aback by Ingrid's. "An inside joke I suspect," she said, raising her eyebrows and nodding at the My Little Piggy placard.

Michael and Connie had met as arranged in the bar for a drink while a thoroughly humiliated Ingrid was forced to wait at the table. On their second drink at the bar, he explained that Ingrid liked to be humiliated before sex. "She is not bisexual," he hastily added. "But, she finds it especially humiliating for a woman to exert control over her."

Connie had been intrigued by this handsome, rich, and generous man. At her office that afternoon, she agreed to meet him when he had given her some of the details about Ingrid. She was willing to be a little more sexually open than normal in order to get his attention and soundly humiliate a rival.

"Dear, come with me. Your makeup needs touching up and us ladies need to talk." The reluctant Ingrid and grinning Connie moved to the restroom. Connie firmly held the girl's arm as they moved away.

In the restroom, Connie rummaged in her purse as Ingrid stood stiffly by looking at her reflection in the mirror. "Thank God, I don't look shook up and used like this morning when I saw myself in the aircraft's restroom." She thought to herself.

"Ahhhh," here it is Connie exclaimed holding up a small key.

Ingrid's eyes opened in horror. Her hands were carefully folded together so Connie wouldn't notice. She had hoped even the hobble chains would remain unnoticed.

Connie smiled at Ingrid and continued, "Michael asked me to help you out with those thumb cuffs. He was sure they needed adjusting," she smoothly added.

She reached out for the defenseless Ingrid's hands and unlocked one cuff, maintaining a tight grip on the hand. "Now," she mused aloud to Ingrid, "how did that go? Oh, yes." Connie was the larger of the two girls and easily twirled Ingrid around, drawing both of her hands behind her back.

Ingrid now stood with her hands behind her back. She started to protest and opened her mouth to speak, …

Like a magician, Connie pulled the bright red ballgag Michael had given her and quickly forced it into the startled girl's mouth. "That's better," Connie smiled at Ingrid, "Michael said his Little Piggy talks too much anyway." She then pulled the leather strap tight behind her head, locking the gag in place.

Connie next pushed Ingrid forward, forcing her front to bend over the vanity. "Stay, Piggy," she commanded. Connie wasn't too excited about the next thing she was to do, it smacked too closely of lesbianism. Exactly as Michael directed, she yanked the sundress up over Ingrid's humiliated head and grabbed one naked ass cheek. A red permanent marker appeared in her other hand and she carefully wrote, "My Little Piggy" across the left cheek and, "My Fuck Slut" across the right. Connie giggled at the evil little thing she was doing to the too pretty and over-sexed Ingrid. Connie then read aloud the two things she had written on the now-crying girl's ass. Connie was having fun.

Of course, the successful real estate agent would have quivered in terror if she knew that a video camera in a vent behind her was focused directly at the vanity. It captured her malicious voice and actions perfectly. Ingrid was also unaware that everything that transpired at her table was permanently recorded. All arranged by Michael Moore, aka Aaron Clarke.

The shattering effect of these acts on Ingrid spurred Connie to accomplish the next two, optional, tasks. Michael had rubbed her arm tenderly in the bar as he predicted Ingrid's exact responses. Connie only had to do the things he requested if she wanted to. Connie wanted to. The act of humiliating a gorgeous woman was making her wetter than she thought possible while discussing this with Michael back at the bar.

Connie again retrieved another surprise for Ingrid from Michael – a pair of nipple clamps with connecting chain. She pulled Ingrid back upright and whooshed the shawl off and onto her own shoulders. "Can't have this get wet now, Little Piggy," she grinned.

Ingrid then felt her shoulder straps fall down to her elbows, exposing her breasts in the bright light of the makeup mirror. Her bruised and swollen tits were on display. Connie's forefinger tentatively swirled around one rock-hard nipple. "My, my Piggy, you are excited." Without further ado, she then snapped an alligator clip to that nipple and tugged the short chain across to the nipple's twin. The tight alligator clamps attempted to tug her nipples together.

"Ewwww, arghhhh, ooooooo," Ingrid responded and tried to shake herself free.

Connie simply held on to the four-inch titty chain and waited for the pain to calm Ingrid down. Ingrid's bright red ballgag and straps gave the intelligent and formerly independent girl, a cross-eyed and somewhat mindless look. Connie pulled a collar and leash out of her purse, strapped and locked the collar in place, and snapped on the lead line. She then tugged the shoulder straps of the dress back up and pulled the crying girl back into a stall. "Time to pee, Piggy," she laughed.

Ingrid was actually ready to burst her bladder. She obediently sat and spread her legs slightly; her face screwed up with concentration. Connie loved the look and clapped with vicious enjoyment of her predicament. "Bravo, Piggy; now to clean you up, …" Ingrid was mortified to feel a tissue drawn across her privates.

As they approached the table, Ingrid noted it now sported a third placard: "Miss Connie Baxter." Only Michael and Connie enjoyed the after dinner drinks.

"Michael, thank you so much for letting me help you with your Little Piggy. She is so sweet. How did you ever capture such a gorgeous creature?" Connie's comments were, of course, scripted in advance to further humiliate Ingrid (and draw the innocent, but catty, Connie into the bondage game).

"Connie, you have no idea how luscious Ingrid is. She is absolutely wonderful; an ideal companion by day, and a thoroughly unquenchable sex maniac at night. Why, this time of night, Connie, she will do anything. I mean anything."

Connie laughed, a little drunkenly as she was on her fourth bar drink. Thriving on complicated schemes, Michael had even arranged for her drinks to all be doubles. She was happy because everything was going according to plan. After taking a thoroughly cowed Ingrid back to the hotel, Michael had promised to take her dancing and further humiliate Ingrid.

"Connie," Michael said, "I bet Ingrid would crawl under the table and massage your feet.'

Connie noticed that Michael was changing their script; but thought a massage would feel good. She was too tipsy to notice that Ingrid's were thumb-cuffed behind her, making a massage difficult.

Michael slid over on his knees next to Ingrid's chair and pulled her resisting form onto the floor. "I'll just help her get started Connie," he said. He pulled Ingrid under the table with him laid her on her side. Michael then moved over to the naive Connie and caressed her ankles.

Connie groaned above and said, "Yes, Ingrid, please continue."

Michael did just that. He took off both shoes and erotically rubbed her sore feet. Then he maneuvered one foot to the side of her sturdy chair and quickly cuffed it in place. A quick motion accomplished the same task with the other foot. Michael then stuck his head up on Connie's lap and whispered, "Shhh, I just need to do this so you don't kick her over and hurt her."

The unsuspecting, and none too bright Connie just smiled and nodded a little drunkenly down at her lap.

Michael then quickly hogtied Ingrid under the table and returned to his seat. "Now, Connie, just wait a few minutes for Ingrid to get set. She is taking off her bonds now to give you a proper massage. We get to keep enjoying the evening."

Connie giggled and said, "Oh, Michael, this is so much fun. You're sure this is what Ingrid wants?"

"Yes, after I told her about our rental meeting this morning, she couldn't wait to meet you and have you help her get ready for sex. She will love you for this, I promise." Michael happily lied back as part of his game.

Meanwhile two beautiful hookers, college girls from Miami staying for the summer in the islands, silently crawled toward the table from a hidden spot in the hall. The hotel concierge and restaurant staff, only too glad to help Michael Moore out any way he wanted, had found the girls for this part of the night's entertainment.

The first girl started a professional massage on Connie's legs, starting from her toes and slowly proceeding up her legs. "My God, Ingrid you are really good at this!" a slightly drunk Connie announced to the room. Ingrid of course, was not being ignored. The other girl had undone Ingrid's hogtie and set her own panty-clad pussy to rubbing against Ingrid's ballgag while her own mouth loudly rummaged through Ingrid's sloppy cunt. She already had three well-lubricated fingers buried up the writhing girl's no-longer-virgin ass. The vibrator had already been removed. After all, Michael did promise Ingrid great sex that evening.

A thump from under the table alerted Michael that the next step was ready. "Connie, your hose are getting in the way of the massage. Please, let Ingrid remove them."

The completely relaxed woman could only weakly nod her head. A few moments of uncoordinated wriggling, untying, and retying, and Connie calmed down. "Obviously her panties and hose are gone now," Michael observed. Indeed, they had been thrown up on the dinner table, in a manner not too unlike with Ingrid earlier. Connie didn't yet notice. "Someone's lips must have locked tightly onto her pussy," Michael observed. Sweat started to bead on her forehead and upper lip. She started to squirm.

"Oh, dear, Connie. We can't have you falling out of your chair. Here, hold onto your armrests, please," Michael prompted the disoriented woman.

Everything else had gone so well this evening and since "It felt so good," Connie obediently followed the directions while the talented tongue and roving hands continued their work. Michael walked around behind Connie's chair and caressed her shoulders.

Connie felt her hands gently restrained. She didn't care. "That Ingrid is sure talented," she thought without keying in on the obviously lesbian act. She still thought the game was, as Michael had explained it – simply helping a thoroughly straight Ingrid get humiliated and aroused enough to enjoy sex later with Michael.

Michael thought that it was getting late and time to proceed on with his plan. He abruptly pulled Connie's head back to plant a passionate kiss on her hot lips. He then smoothly slid a ballgag, matching Ingrid's, over her lips, and tightened it up. A small pair of scissors from his bag of tricks, and Connie's bra lay in pieces next to her panties on the table. Connie was now topless, bound in a chair, and humiliatingly visible in a public dining room.

Connie's wide-open eyes reflected her horror at this turn of events. Even slightly tipsy, and nearly ready for another orgasm, she didn't want to do this. She felt her boobs gently swaying, completely exposed in the restaurant dining room and could only sit tightly bound while events unfolded.

Michael walked to the other side of the table and told the hooker Rochelle to bring Ingrid. Rochelle yanked a thoroughly disheveled and sexually exhausted Ingrid over to an overstuffed chair on rollers. As directed earlier, Ingrid was draped over the chair, belly down, and securely tied in place. The hooker strapped on a leather blindfold and changed her severe ballgag for a hollow whiffle-ball style allowing her to breathe better. She then tucked her new dress up under her tummy and worked her dress straps down, exposing her breasts.

Michael walked up and stuck a syringe of a half dose of the drug cocktail concocted for Steve Austin's agents by his Miami contact, Doctor Kay. Acting similar to a 'roofie', only with added tranquilizers and muscle relaxers, the drug had effective amnesia-like properties. While she would need a proper dose later, the girl would remember nothing past the moment she entered the restaurant.

Rochelle then rolled the chair into the now quiet kitchen. Selected members of the staff had been informed earlier that Michael had a treat in store for them at the end of the evening. Condoms had to be used, but pussy, ass, and breasts were freely available for rape and torment. Absolute quiet was to be observed in the ensuing gang rape.

Rochelle Grosso came back into the room and questioned Michael about the next step. "Help secure Connie the same way. It will be a double treat for the boys. Then you and Sophia get back here for the limousine ride to my hotel."

The two girls quickly bound Connie onto another chair. Sophia Lenz took the red permanent marker and scrawled text across Connie's bare ass cheeks to mirror the decoration of her new friend Ingrid. Her caption on one cheek simply proclaimed, "My Little Pussy" and the other cheek, "My Fuck Toy", in matching red permanent marker. Her ass also received half a dose of the drug combo.

Moments after rolling Connie into the kitchen; the three conspirators traipsed out, arm-in-arm, to the waiting limousine. The restaurant staff knew what to do.

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com