East Coast Slavers Organization

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 32 – Thieving Mom, Evil Twins (or The End of a Business Dynasty)

The heaving seas lifted the San Fernando over another of the seemingly endless waves, each the size of a mountain. The tramp freighter's structural members groaned anew at the stress of moving up a one-hundred-foot tall, one-quarter-mile wide, slow moving swell. Steve Austin looked out a dingy porthole at the gloomy horizon. It was noon and the typhoon-fed wind and seas made his passage dangerous. He was personally delivering cargo to a Filipino businessman, using one of the Filipino's own freighters. Steve began this voyage because of a humiliating slight suffered by his client. The perpetrator was aboard, punished in a manner only an experienced slaver can attain. The telex in his hand was a distraction and a worry he could not deal with. Steve would be stuck aboard the heaving freighter for at least another week. It was too long.

A long-time family friend was in trouble and Steve was being asked to intervene and resolve the situation. The telex had been downloaded via satellite to the modern communications room in the freighter. Given that it was transmitted in the clear, it was somewhat cryptic. However, it was obvious that Roland Heath was in trouble. Roland was a rich New England blueblood that had brieflyinitially befriended Steve when he had been a troubled youth in upstate New York. Roland had been the driving force that helped the young Steve Austin decide that a tour in the Marine Corps would help focus his life. Later, on visits home, their friendship had cemented and Steve had learned about Roland's family history and how they became wealthy beyond belief. Interestingly, it was only after Steve Austin left the Marine Corps that he turned to the abandoned business line of the Heath family.

Gene St. James, Roland's secretary, was a fifty-five year old man that had served the Heath family faithfully for going on thirty years. He was upset with the sudden disappearance of the executive. Gene passed on that he thought Roland's daughter might have done something to remove her father. Both Gene and his boss, Roland, were physical fitness devotees who ran, lifted weights, bicycled, and swam. Both had sharp, cunning minds and the two made a team that had legitimately earned hundreds of millions of dollars. There was no medical reason for Roland Heath to be removed from his post.

Roland's children were a disappointment to him. Jeanne Heath, his daughter, was a stuck up snob that had always hated Gene St. James as well as Steve Austin. The bitch had become pregnant with twins at the young age of sixteen, without knowing who among her wild lovers was the father. Only seventeen when her daughters, Lisa and Lori, were born. Jeanne Heath had abandoned them and run away to Europe to continue partying with friends. Roland and his beloved wife Sharon had raised the granddaughters as their own. The granddaughters followed the temperament of their mother, growing up into worthless, leaching bitches, giving no love to their parents or family friends, despite the loving affection heaped upon them by their doting grandparents. Sadly, Roland's wife had died four years before at the age of sixty. Now sixty-eight, Roland worshipped his missing wife, but enjoyed a healthy sexual relationship with his nurse, the thirty-six year old Maddalena Camillo. Maddalena had gigantic breasts and gorgeous long blonde hair. Steve knew that she and the greatly older Roland fucked like minks at every opportunity. Even with Roland's intense exercise regime, it is possible that he consumed more calories ravaging her body throughout the day then he did in his workouts. On duty twenty-four hours a day, the nurse had been sucked and fucked to orgasms during every minute of the day.

Steve's dick stirred in his pants thinking of the sexy nurse. He sighed, knowing he would never taste her fruits. Willing to share the few freed sluts and sex slaves he had hired to work the estate as partial compensation for their previous status of slavery, Roland looked at his ex-wife and nurse in an old fashioned way, they were his and his only. Steve laughed as he reflected on the fact that any of Roland's previous slaves had been free now for at least twenty-five years. None of the ex-slaves could be described as delectable morsels. The family's slave dungeons were well hidden behind bricked over entries concealed at the New York property.

If Steve or Gene knew the extent of the disaster that had befallen their friends, they would have been worried sick. Roland Heath's downfall began months earlier when his granddaughters came home for the summer. Lisa and Lori Heath were black-haired twenty-one year old nymphets with hearts cold as ice. They only came home for the summer because they enjoyed the amenities of the vast estate. They rode horses maintained by talented grooms, used boats, personal watercraft, motorcycles, and sports cars kept in tip-top shape by dedicated mechanics, and they used the luxurious facilities that remained in perfect shape due to the personal attention of cooks, maids, gardeners, and other servants. Even the help loved the old man and deeply respected the estate. The twins rode roughshod over both facilities and the help. They respected nothing and held everyone in low esteem.

Soon after arriving at the estate from their private college, they made a discovery. One late night while their father was away on business, they picked the lock to his study and spent the night rummaging through his files, personal papers, and his computer. Their goal was to discover the extent of their family finances, something never shared by their grandfather with the twins or his daughter, and to find ways to tap undiscovered into his wealth. The first thing they discovered that night was that their grandfather had a kinky side. Hidden in a locked desk drawer, they found photographs of the old man achieving sexual satisfaction in every manner possible from his sexy nurse. The girls laughed at some of the blonde's predicaments. In many of the photos, she was bound in mild bondage and either being vigorously fucked or was equally enthusiastically sucking their grandfather. The hints they picked up about the wealth of the family far exceeded any understanding of the outrageous riches that could be theirs. Unfortunately, they found no information about where the funds were hidden.

The twins made many visits to the room. Ultimately, they found their grandfather's passwords allowing access to the stand-alone computer that Roland used. Stashed among the multiple hard drives were tens of thousands of dated photographs and files that outlined the business that their grandfather had shut down twenty-five years before. Among the biggest surprises on the computer was the compilation of digital albums of their grandmother. Sharon Heath was in hundreds of images, from her processing as a kidnapped teenage slave to hardcore bondage pictures of her in leather and chains, helpless. "Grandma was a sex slave?" Lisa asked incredulously. "Grandpa must have decided to keep her as his personal pet. She is shown here over at least a ten-year period. Did Grandpa marry her as a slave or a freed woman?"

Lisa and Lori never determined when their Grandfather had freed their Grandmother. More important to them, was information about the hidden and blocked entrances to the dungeons below. Most of the spaces were nearly two hundred years old. Within a week, they had broken into the first entrance, accessed through a carefully hidden wooden panel below a seldom-used staircase leading from the kitchen area to the rear of the upstairs quarters. Behind the panel was an entry, bricked closed. One afternoon when the servants were helping to celebrate the completed renovation of an historic stable and riding area elsewhere on the grounds, the twins attacked the wall with sledgehammers hidden for the occasion. The two prissy, and usually lazy young women had shown an uncharacteristic thoroughness in removing any trace of their act. They had remained underground for over twenty-four hours. Lori and Lisa found dark and gloomy passages, ancient wiring that miraculously could still power a few light bulbs, training galleries, slave pens, branding and torture facilities, and a shipping facility. Thousands of implements of pleasure and torture were left in place as if the wielders would return after lunch. They were in heaven.

Lori became the first mock victim of evil slavers. The two flipped a coin and Lori lost the toss. As a result, she was handcuffed and gagged like the new slaves shown in the computer files. Lisa bent her handcuffed slave over a mildewed leather ottoman in what was identified as the processing facility and bound her in place while she searched for implements to discipline her slave with. The two girls had agreed to take turns being the slave for an entire night each time they played. Lisa broke her sister in roughly during that first round of play. In a box, Lisa found a wickedly sharp knife with a curved blade. From the files, she knew it was a disrobing knife. She ran the dirty blade under her sister's terrified eyes and slowly sliced every article of clothing off. Then, to make her sister more anonymous, she flipped her long black hair over her head, covering her eyes. She left her sister in place while she backtracked into the quiet house; everyone was either in bed asleep or gone for the night. Lisa's goal was her digital camera; she wanted to record the night's slave play. Thrilled with the thought of abusing her identical twin, almost as if she herself was being abused, Lisa achieved endless sexual thrills in the mock torture of Lori.

Lori demanded her turn the next night, even as the family and servants were wandering around cleaning up dinner and preparing for bed. Lisa was reluctant, given how harshly she had acted in initiating her twin. Lori insisted and pulled a very reluctant, naked, and gagged Lisa, through the house, narrowly escaping detection several times. When the panel under the stairs whispered shut behind them, Lisa was thrown against the rough brick wall and sexually assaulted. Lori kissed her shocked sister with wild abandon and roughly jammed four fingers up her unprepared twat. Lisa arched her feet to her tiptoes in an attempt to avoid the raping fingers. She couldn't resist, her improvised bonds of silk scarves held her hands tightly behind her back and the scarves knotted around her aching tits were a leash she had to follow. Lisa was manhandled and kissed, her nipples bitten, and all the while, the fingers wormed their way deeper and deeper into her loosening cunt. She collapsed to the brick floor of the dusty hall in orgasm while her sister smirked down at her. Crying, she was yanked to her feet by the breast bondage leash and Lori dragged her to the same slave processing room she had victimized Lori in. Lori also bound Lisa to the leather ottoman. However, as her sister was already deliciously naked, she chose another implement from the box of tools used in processing slaves. Her item of choice was a paddle.

"Eiiii," Lisa screamed through her silken gag at the first splat of the paddle on her ass.

Lori smirked at her slave and said, "You are my slave, bitch. Tonight you get spanked with this wooden paddle until you acknowledge your servitude to me and your need to pleasure me."

Lisa yanked her head around to glare horrified at her sister. "Hmmph, uuuuu, hitch, hoooo!"

Lori grabbed her long tresses in one hand and yanked her head back. She leaned down and bit her sister on the lip, almost drawing blood. "Just because it's a game, sis, doesn't mean I have to play nice. You will get your turn. Now nod your head when you want to kiss my ass, and I mean my bare ass with your slavish tongue. Till then, …" she paused and then began to paddle her sister, hard and with continuous, even strokes. Lisa was yowling and shrieking so hard that she couldn't begin to think about submission. Finally, Lori stopped, only when her arm began to ache. Moments later, Lori sat on the leather ottoman with her panties and Blue Jeans lying on the floor while her sister knelt before her and sucked on her hairy twat.

"At least the bitch could have thinned some of this black forest and trimmed the edges before she made me eat her out," Lisa complained to herself as her tongue danced across her sister's sloppy pussy. The breast bondage tugged her throbbing tits toward the pussy in silent encouragement to eat more vigorously. As young teens at boarding school, they had pleasured each other many times. When they started to focus exclusively on men at eighteen, they had stopped having sex. Never had their games sexual included domination. Each sister decided that night in the slave facilities that they had to find a submissive partner, willing or not. Lisa and Lori acknowledged their tendency to go overboard torturing even a mock slave. They had to stop the slavery games with each other.

Following that night of abuse, the germ of an idea was born. Curled together in their own bed the next morning, the twins decided to arrange for the departure of their grandfather and the enslavement of the sexy nurse. They needed to get their mother to play a role in the plot without disclosing the existence of the slave facilities. It was easy, the mother was even greedier than her children. Lori and Lisa simply told Jeanne that Gene and Roland were going to leave virtually all of the estate and holdings to the National Land Trust. They claimed that almost all of the family wealth would be tied up ensuring the perpetual maintenance of the vast estate and generous pensions for the many dedicated employees. Lori and Lisa portrayed the employees as manipulating scheming weasels who were cheating them of their inheritance. Horrified at the thought of loosing her independence, Jeanne readily agreed that her father had to go and she supported firing the nurse and executive secretary. Jeanne Heath herself came up with the idea of finding a remote asylum in financial straits to house their unwilling father. A promise of several million in cash to the sleazy operator of the facility led to the secret abduction of Roland and his disappearance. Jeanne fired Gene St. James herself while her daughters took on the task of firing the nurse, Maddalena Camillo.

Actually, Lisa and Lori overwhelmed Maddalena in the bath, garroting her with a finely woven strangulation cord found in the dungeons. Maddalena, still wet from her shower and gasping for breath, was chained and gagged before being secreted to the dungeons. The twins removed all Maddalena's personal effects from her room and Roland's closet, throwing everything into a dingy stone-walled slave training room. In the dungeon, the excited girls quickly wrapped soft copper wire around the base of each of the helpless woman's fat tits. The immediate affect of the tittie binding was to make the marvelous orbs swell into discolored balloons. Soon, the abused nurse hung suspended by her amazing breasts as the girls took turns whipping her with cat-o-nine-tails. Maddalena's breasts were blue and swollen before they cut her down and guided her sobbing face against their hungry pussies. It took days for the red, angry looking welts on her body to subside. By then, Lori and Lisa had experimented with most of the torture implements in the facility. Maddalena's mind was in a fragile stage, close to losing her sanity.

The very instant when Steve opened the message from Gene, the nurse was shrieking in agony in the slave processing room. A glowing iron had been set against her pale thigh, burning the ancient mark of the Heath Slave House permanently into her skin.

During this period, Jeanne Heath had visited her father in the asylum and witnessed the brutal electro-shock-therapy regime he was being subjected to. Herself aroused by the pitiful condition her sixty-eight year old father had been reduced to, she had practically raped the corrupt facility's director in the viewing room. Hidden behind the one-way glass and a locked door, she had feverously pulled his pants down and pulling her panties aside, mounting him fully clothed while her father was subjected to painful treatment next door. The ride had been hard and satisfying. Since then, she had made regular trips to the asylum, reveling in the rapid degeneration of her father. She wanted control of the family fortune and would do anything to ensure that she got it.

Aaron Clarke clicked his cell phone shut and set it down on the car seat beside him. He had just spoken with Gene St. James to confirm that he had received his FedEx package and taken appropriate steps. The large package had contained a number of GPS transmitters that were to be tagged onto each of the vehicles used by the Heath family. Gene had used his friends within the remaining estate staff to accomplish the task. He also relayed on that nobody knew anything of the whereabouts of either Roland Heath or his nurse Maddalena. Aaron knew that meant his initial plan was going to have to go into effect. He phoned his Miami associate and slave, Ingrid Gaviard the thirty-six year old ex-flight attendant he had abused, blackmailed, enslaved, caged, and ultimately, allowed her to become a slave trainer and part owner of the East Coast Slavers Organization. She was to send an encrypted electronic message to Aaron's friend Steve Austin notifying him of the plan.

Aaron turned his attention back to driving. He was now moving from the Catskills to the Adirondacks. His long drive from Miami in his white panel van was almost over. Normally, he would have flown to a neutral city, rented a sport utility vehicle, driven to the target, returned to his operating base in Miami, and then turned in the vehicle at another neutral city. He decided that he had to hurry and given the uncertain nature of his mission, bring too much controversial equipment that couldn't be checked into his baggage in this post-911 environment. Unconsciously, he checked the digital clock above the vehicle's sound system controller. He was to meet Gene, the old man's secretary, in fifteen minutes at a local park-and-ride just ten miles ahead. "I have plenty of time," he thought.

Gene St. James was both scared and excited. He knew that he had to help his old friend; but, this wasn't the kind of excitement that he was used to. A new model van pulled into the park-and-ride entrance. "Right on time," he grinned to himself. "Let's get this show on the road."

The van barely came to a stop before he was in, the door slammed shut, and the van took off again. "Hey," said Gene with a grin and a hand offered for shaking, "you must be Robert Morgan. I'm Gene St. James."

Aaron Clarke, as usual operating in his Robert Morgan persona while on slaver business in the United States, glanced over at his passenger, grinned back, and said, "Gene, welcome aboard. Glad to say you aren't exactly what I had in mind for a mid-50s executive secretary."

Gene's muscular arm rippled as his grip tightened on the ex-marine's. "Yes, Roland and I do take our business competitors by surprise. After all, how many Iron Man Tri-athletes do you meet in their fifties and sixties in corporate boardrooms.

Aaron was indeed pleased. Gene was easily one-hundred-eighty pounds of solid muscle. Further, he moved with stealthy grace. The success of the operation was looking more assured. "Gene, we are just a couple of miles from our exit. Climb into the back and see if there is anything you want to use tonight. After meeting you, I expect you know how to use a 9-mm handgun?"

Gene grinned like a shark and replied, "Buddy, I do. Furthermore, I will do whatever it takes to find my friend, release him, and punish the guilty fuckers that did him in."

"Just so you know, it sounds like you and I have identical philosophies; maximum punishment to the guilty, especially to someone who betrays the hand that feeds. Frankly, I think that this situation bodes ill for your friend, Roland. We have no time to loose in getting going. To be flexible in supporting any game plan we develop, I brought a lot of gear. Given your background years ago with Roland, I don't expect that any of it will shock you. Feel free to equip yourself. In addition to the standard capture and enslavement equipment, I brought some useful drugs and bondage equipment. There is an extra weapons vest in back with stowage pockets for the 9-mm and spare magazines, a taser gun, and a stun gun. We have night vision goggles, whisper microphones and communications gear, knives, and a lot more. I'll give you a quick orientation on the high-tech stuff before we begin. On a planning note; our friend Steve Austin said that you thought the best access to the mansion was to establish an outpost in the abandoned slave facilities underground?"

"That's right, Robert," said Gene, "the main house has a single point of access to the underground tunnel complex; but there are a number of concealed entrances throughout the estate. Roland and I closed everything up years ago so the daughter and her two brats don't know about the place. None of the staff that Roland freed ever knew that the slave facilities were located on the estate grounds."

"Hmmm," said Robert Morgan, "since everyone keeps reminding me that all three women are self-centered and completely ungrateful for Roland and Sharon Heath's sacrifices for them, Gene, it may turn out all three women are involved. No matter what the case, you and I need to discuss appropriate disposition or punishment of the guilty; I need to know your thoughts. Even though you are Roland's number two and used to act in his stead, as a proviso for my involvement, I retain full authority to make the final decisions."

Gene sat back in his seat and now that the rescue mission was finally started, was finally able to free his mind for the next steps involved. Thus far, he was well satisfied with Robert Morgan and his positive attitude about resolving the crisis and ensuring that just punishment was met. He saw they were getting close and leaned forward. "Robert," he said, "we need to turn right about a mile ahead onto a small trail. The van can navigate that gravel path for another mile and a half or so and then we'll park under a small escarpment of rock. From there, it's a good fifteen-minute hike on a well-secluded trail. Your night vision goggles will help at lot, the trail is rocky and narrow. I have a detailed map that we can review together before we start out."

Robert grunted as his foot slipped over the edge of a small rock and landed jarringly. Behind him, Gene followed stoically, never once complaining about the huge burden he was carrying. The estimated fifteen-minute hike had already become thirty minutes of difficult scrambling over the dark and long unused trail. The binocular night vision goggles had been essential to their progress, squeezing through tree branches and vines while navigating the rough surface itself. In addition to their high-tech radio gear, each man had fully equipped himself with a dull black cotton utility uniform, comfortable boots, a heavy equipment vest, and a gigantic duffle bag with shoulder carry straps. The two bags held food, rudimentary camping equipment, and the capture and bondage items brought by Aaron Clarke (Robert Morgan).

Gene whispered for Robert to halt and turn back. Robert glanced back on the trail and saw that Gene had set his bag down beside a tall rock ledge and was digging through some large brush. Gene slid through a gap in the thick brush and an instant later, his hand came back out to feel around for his heavy bag. It was pulled through the opening and Robert no longer saw any sign of Gene. Robert followed the same procedure, finding it easier to slide past the vines and branches without the bag and then crouch down to pull the bag after him. Robert saw that they were crowed under an outcrop of rock, similar to a cave entry, only it was obviously only a few feet deep. Gene pressed a rock and a camouflaged cover moved silently aside, revealing a digital keypad and a display screen.

"Nice," Robert whispered. "This is well hidden."

"Yeah," Gene answered back, "nobody has ever found this entry. This is the only part of the complex that Roland and I kept up after closing everything else down. The keypad is a decoy though; it doesn't open a thing. The real entry is gained by dropping a quarter in this slot, way over here." Gene pointed to a forty-five degree fissure in the rock about a foot away from the keypad. "The rock cover over the keypad activates the coin mechanism when it opens. Then, a simple quarter in the slot and … voila! Open sesame."

Robert and Gene moved easily through the opening into a rectangular rock-hewn tunnel. Gene pressed a dimly glowing pad and the opening silently closed. "This door opens from both sides in an identical fashion. Therefore, an escapee running loose in the complex can't get out this way. The only non-coded entry or exit is a single one into the main house. Roland and I had vehement disagreements about that; I wanted it coded in some fashion to protect the house and the tunnel complex."

Gene bent down to retrieve his heavy pack. "Robert, this complex was built after Roland's ancestors found a limestone channel carved into the rock from centuries of water flow. The natural channel runs deeper, and longer, than the section the family had cut into the rock with slave labor. The complex itself is really just a long tunnel with a few side rooms, some small and some quite large. I'll describe the uses of the rooms as we come up to them. We want to go all the way to the main house and use one of the storage rooms there as a base camp."

The two men started the last leg of their hike, now navigating through the dark underground passages.

Robert was impressed with the quality of the tunneling done by the Heaths more than a century before. Gene had told Robert that electric power had been run to only a few areas because after the Civil War, the family slave business had dwindled in volume as they became specialized in white slaves. The Heath business sideline had become only a hobby that the males enjoyed immensely, capturing and dominating women for select, rich industrialist friends.

The two men paused as an unearthly scream echoed through the darkness. The single piercing scream was followed by a series of wails of diminishing volume, finally fading away.

Robert muttered softly, "Guess somebody has moved into your tunnels. Unless, … you have ghosts here."

"Look, whoever is in this complex has to have come from the main house," Gene explained. "So, I think we need to get there fast, block the entryway, cut off the main electrical feed for the tunnel, and work our way back, capturing whoever is in this place. To do that, we need to leave this tunnel and use the old underground river channel to work around to the Slave Processing Chamber or Slave Training Rooms that are directly ahead. I think that's where the scream came from."

"OK," came Robert's terse reply. He knelt down to fumble in his pack. "I like your thinking. We can attack best in the dark, using our night vision gear. I'll stick a flash-bang on one wall and rig a tripline across the corridor. That way, if someone runs from us toward the entry we used, we'll get warning. The tripwire spool and the flash-bang device each have self-sticking tape." Robert quickly attached the pyrotechnic device and the tripwire before muttering, "There, … this exit is closed off."

"Let's go then," Gene muttered, "our turn off is about one hundred feet ahead, toward the scream. We'll take a side corridor that falls about thirty feet to the old, original channel. It's easy to navigate through, just a little damp and sandy."

About ten minutes later, the two men re-emerged into the man-made section of the tunnel. Gene whispered through his radio that they were just minutes from the main house. Robert followed silently, he was enjoying the adventure. During the rougher trek through the channel, the two men had correctly supposed that the Heath women had reopened the complex and were probably torturing the old man's nurse. Robert was enjoying the prospect of acquiring some new pussy.

The two men emerged from the gloom of the channel passage into the soft glow of electric bulbs. The night vision goggles automatically adjusted to the surplus of light, allowing for continued clear vision. While Gene moved toward a wooden panel that was clearly a passage out of the tunnel, Robert brought out another flash-bang device and a tripline spool. He fastened them against opposite walls on the tunnel side away from the house. He waited for Gene before attaching the tripline and the flash-bang.

Gene whispered back, "This entryway has been recently used. Somebody removed the brick wall Roland and I put up years ago. The only footprints through the dust are women's shoes with small feet. Guess it's the Heath women. I'm going to cut off the electric power and phone lines from these panels here." He turned toward a traditional set of panels. The utility services were simple to disconnect, Gene simply threw the lever on the side of the electric panel downward and unplugged the two modular jacks on the phone lines. Gene turned back to Robert and with a huge grin said, "Guess its show time my new friend. We skip the first six rooms unless my old padlocks have been removed. The first three are simple storage rooms and the next three are slave holding cells, four cages to a cell. The three training rooms and the processing chamber were left unlocked years ago."

Robert waved Gene past him and turned his attention to the tripline across the corridor. The take-up spool clicked as tension was applied to the line and then Robert pulled out the safety pin, arming the pyrotechnic. The two devices now ready at either end of the complex would provide warning to the men if anyone approached or attempted to leave.

The two once again shrugged their heavy bags onto their shoulders and started down the now pitch-black corridor. Robert saw Gene test the weapons in his equipment vest and smiled in satisfaction. He was happy that he was getting assistance from such a capable man, despite his age. As predicted, the next three rooms that they passed each had a large, high-security padlock. The rooms had not been opened recently.

Gene saw one of the Heath granddaughters walking tentatively towards them along the rock-hewn corridor, both hands running alone a wall. Even with the degraded vision of the night vision goggles, it was obvious that the girl was scared, but coping with the deep darkness. Her fingertips slipped smoothly across the few closed doorways recessed in the corridor wall. She was well on her way back to the estate house. Gene reached down into his trouser utility pouch and quietly pulled out his whip. It was easily ten feet of supple, woven leather; the lightweight tip designed to inflict pain without cutting or ripping flesh. Absently, from long experience, he uncoiled the snake-like length and stood ready. Even in the narrow tunnel, the leather had room to first move languidly behind his body and then zip forward with lightning speed to strike the blinded woman fully across her breasts.

Lori screamed at the burning strike across her bosom and fell hard to her knees. The blow was both unexpected and unknown as to cause. She felt that her blouse was torn open, and was amazed from the apparently brutal impact that her bra was still intact. "What the fuck was that?" she whimpered. She looked about for a cause, but only heard a faint slithering sound. Lori crouched in fear, thinking a wild animal was loose in the dark tunnel complex.

The Heath executive secretary felt his cock move in his pants as he looked down at the cowering woman. "She's not so confident now," he told himself. He readied the whip, bringing it almost silently behind him and then struck forward with confidence. Arms outstretched questing to keep an attacker at bay; her torso was wide open for attack. The whip struck heavily, exactly through the torn gap in her blouse, ripping the bra closure and opening her creamy breasts to view in the greenish light of the night vision goggles.

The woman screamed a frightened howl that echoed through the dark corridor and hunched over in pain. Lori's head now faced Gene, her luscious ass pointing away in the direction she had come from. The whip arched over her body and darted down to her miniskirt-clad ass, striking a stinging blow across her rump, lightly stroking down her back at the same time. Unable to stop herself, Lori's upper body rose up in agony and her hands flew back to feel the damage to her ass. Gene grinned a feral smile of teeth and the whip flicked out again, snapping directly against the loose bra cup on her right breast; the return action of the leather whip brutally ripping the entire bra from her torso. The responding screams of agony continued on and on. "Guess that hurt you little snake," he hissed in the dark.

"Wwhat? Who is it? What did you say?" she groaned. Lori Heath now lay in a fetal position whimpering and sobbing after only four strokes of the whip. Her tight breasts jiggled as she shivered in terror.

"Strip," Gene whispered hoarsely. He didn't want the woman to guess his identity, now or later.

Robert enjoyed the interchange between Gene and the woman; he supposed that it was one of the three Heath women.

"Should I stay here or proceed past you toward the processing areas?" Robert whispered."

"Go ahead, proceed," Gene answered. "I'll be in a side room with a white chalk 'X' on the door."

Lori's face came up at the quiet whispering in front of her. "Who else is there? Why are you here? This is my property," she asked, a little of her imperious attitude creeping back into her voice with each comment.

Gene drew the whip back and put more effort into his fifth slashing blow. He aimed once again for her rump under the tight miniskirt. The sound was even meatier than before, punctuated with the ripping of a long vent in the skirt, running up into the crack of her ass. The howling screams of agony reverberated again, eerily through the medieval-looking halls of cold rock. Gene repeated his single word command, "Strip."

Lori shivered and started to crawl backward away from the voice. The whip instantly struck above her head, crackling like thunder, just inches from her ears. "Strip," came hoarsely through the darkness. Lori's heart hammered in her throat. She was so terrified that her brain was shutting down. "Strip!" the command was repeated, a little more loudly.

Lori meekly sat up and pulled the ruin of a blouse off her shoulders and discarded it into the unrelenting darkness. She pulled off her shoes and they joined the torn blouse. Breasts wriggling enticingly, she stood up to pull her tight black skirt down off her hips. Not realizing that her attacker could see as clearly as daylight in the tunnel, she shrugged off her panties and stood shivering with fear and from the cold air. Humiliation had yet to sink into her consciousness.

"Kneel," the same cold, hoarse voice commanded. Lori carefully knelt on the rough, gritty floor.

"Hands behind your back, wrists crossed," came the next command. Lori dutifully obeyed, a tear trickled down her cheek.

Gene stood enjoying his prize. Robert came up behind him and clapped him on the back as he continued past the kneeling woman who was unaware of his wraithlike passage. Gene pulled a pair of handcuffs from a storage pouch on his vest and moved silently behind the girl to roughly handcuff her wrists. Next, he yanked a handful of long black hair and with his free hand pulled a collar and leash out of another pouch. With simple commands of, "Up!" and "Come, bitch," he dominated the woman and she meekly followed the yanking lead of hair used as a leash.

Gene moved down the corridor to a doorway he recognized and pushed hard against the heavy wooden door. It opened reluctantly with a groan and he slipped through with his captive. With another set of single word commands of, "Kneel!" and "Stay!" he let loose the girl's hair and after marking the outside of the door with a large chalk 'X', slammed the door shut with a resounding crash.

Lori winched at the booming sound and crouched lower in misery as the man thumped around the room.

Gene recognized the deceptively simple mechanism at once; it was exactly what he wanted. When the subject of favorite bondage devices came up in the van ride toward the Heath estate, Robert Morgan had described in graphic detail how he had used the device on a woman named Connie. Gene moved across the room and dragged the heavy steel bar to the middle of the room and opened the four curved latches. It was a heavier set of stocks than described by Robert, but was similar in that it was comprised of a single bar of steel with slots for locking two ankles at the ends of the bar and two wrists inside of the ankles. The fiendish mechanism held Lori absolutely helpless within a matter of a minute. Gene sat down beside the woman and possessively cupped one of her tits that were dangling to the stone floor in her chin-down position. "So, cunt," he started with a whisper, "do you have something you wish to confess to me?" He squeezed the breast hard enough to solicit a yelp of pain and continued, "Assume that you are standing before Peter at the gates of Heaven and he has just told you to confess any sins you committed within the last thirty days. That is what you will do now. Confess everything you have done that would be against the teachings of your God or I will punish you drastically." With the last comment, Gene grabbed the nipple on her squished breast and pulled the rubbery tissue out, with a hard yank.

Lori cried out in pain and whimpered. She was so confused. "W…well, I have had impure thoughts," she started hesitantly.

Gene stood up and moved back several steps to get the whip within casting range. He uncoiled the end forward and then immediately brought the handle up and back, cracking the whip loudly above Lori's head. He instantly snapped the whip again, and the tip flew across the intervening feet to strike where the juncture of the crack of her ass stuck up from the highest point of her body above the floor.

Lori's head dragged forward across the gritty floor as she stretched forward in agony; her shriek of pain echoed through the stygian darkness of the room.

"Guess you can start with what you are doing down here and what your family has done with your grandfather," he prompted. "Otherwise," he warned, "we return to a whipping session."

Lori started babbling and barely slowed for Gene to keep the young woman focused on her incriminating statements. Elsewhere in the compound, Robert was becoming angrier with every damning comment he heard through their communications system. Lori confirmed that all three Heath women were involved in different aspects of bilking their grandfather's estate. Further, the twins had enslaved their grandfather's nurse and captured part of an athletic group visiting their private school for a tennis tournament. Lori and Lisa planned to torture the four captured high school students and then sell them at auction to any of the slavers mentioned in the old man's notes; at least to any still in business.

Gene was also becoming angry at the women's evil plans. He stepped back and quietly took off his boots and then his clothes. He approached the still confessing woman and knelt behind her highly upthrust ass. It occurred to him that he had forgotten to bring any condoms or ask Robert to supply him. Assuming the young woman was disease free, and not giving a damn about whether she was on birth control pills, he sunk his dick into her dry cunthole. As he guided his cockhead between her fat pussy lips, he remarked to himself how sparsely-haired her pubic area was. Only intending to wet his lizard, he quickly rabbit-fucked himself into her pussy, coating his dick with the fluids her body unconsciously produced. He sighed in pleasure as her body unwittingly lubricated his bare cock, easing his entry all the way into her tight pussy. Almost with reluctance, he moved his hard cock to her defenseless asshole and pushed in with unrelenting pressure.

When Lori realized what the man had in mind, she howled in protest and attempted to move her ass sideways to escape the cockhead already slimy with her own pussy juices. Her protests were to no avail; Gene secured the head in her tight chute and began to vigorously widen her back door channel by rolling his hips widely. Then, he began to saw happily in and out, working to bury his cock all the way inside the woman's fiery depths. Her tight, dry membranes rubbed his cock and the aching rasping felt good. Gene groaned in relief when he finally bottomed out, his balls felt cool where they nestled against her wet cunt lips. He continued his hip-rocking fuck without actually moving in and out more than an inch or so at each time. The inner wall of her rectum felt welded against his hard cock, suctioning out when he pulled back slightly and still holding tight as he plunged back to bottom out again, and again, and again. "God! Little bitch, you have a tight ass. It might be my new favorite fuck hole from now on. You'll make a first rate sex slave."

Lori was a helpless, hysterical slab of fuck meat below his hips. She could do nothing except blubber in painful protest. The unrelenting steel bondage bar trapped her in a perfect, bent-over fucking position. Lori could feel her attacker's strong hands twisting her ass to and fro while the bar of a cock ravaged her asshole. The vicious thrusting of her body was rubbing the side of her face raw against the stone flooring. Her sobs and wails of pain echoed through the small, dark cell he had forced her to enter. She now knew that opening the slave facility under the estate was not such a good idea.

Robert no longer heard any noises from the slave processing area ahead. He grinned, thinking that the mournful and agonizing cries behind him from the Heath girl probably had everyone else in the darkened facility scared shitless. The woman's horrified screams faded in the tunnel when Gene dragged the girl into the cell; but her cries still came through his microphone. "That Gene is alright," he told himself. "These bitches deserve some of their own punishment." Robert continued to move cautiously. When the earplugs relayed the girl's confession about kidnapping some high school teenagers and whipping them, his blood boiled with anger and he became fearful of what the other sister might do to protect herself. "At least I now know there is only one target ahead along with the blonde nurse and the high school kids. The bitch should be easy to deal with in the dark."

The door to the slave processing area was wide open. Robert moved to a prone position to more safely scan the room's interior. The infrared bulb on his night vision goggles added extra clarity to his vision, despite the absolute absence of light in the tunnels. He saw the other twin crouched behind a torture table holding a big bosomed blonde tied in an extreme spread-eagle position. The twin was holding an automatic and the night vision goggles detected the gleam of a laser aiming device on the handgrip. The red light swept evenly across the room. Robert decided that since the room was empty of other life besides the nurse and the twin, that the four captive schoolgirls must be held in another room and there was no need to confront the armed woman yet. He pulled out another set of pyrotechnics and a tripline spool to boobytrap the room's entrance. "If the bitch comes out," he muttered, "then she will get a big surprise."

Robert quickly scanned the rock corridor and moved further away from Gene to the next doorway, it was closed. The door opened silently. Robert had to grin at the dichotomy of the situation: a dark and evil dungeon and the heavy oak doors didn't even creak and groan; instead, they opened silently. The sight that met his eyes was a wet dream come true for any male that enjoys women. Four naked women, teen girls actually from a high school tennis team, were arranged in a circle. Each stood with their back to a rough-hewn timber pole, facing out away from the inside of the circle. Their arms were held high overhead, wrists manacled to chains holding the girls up on tiptoe. A wide, leather restraining belt around each shapely waist held the girls tightly in place.

Robert set his duffle bag down beside the open door and moved to the circle of naked flesh. He walked around the entire circle, admiring the taut, well-muscled bodies. Their tender age and athletic shapes made for erotic viewing even in the greenish light of the night vision goggles. He approached the youngest looking girl, a blonde, and set his body close to hers, running a hand longingly down her side, feeling the swollen ridges left from the whipping each had obviously received. She still had traces of baby fat on her body. Like the other girls, she was gagged with a large, bulging ballgag. Robert grasped her head with one hand over each ear and whispered to her, "Calm down little one. I'm here with a friend to rescue you girls. We just captured one of the bitches that did this; the other is across the hall waiting to ambush us. She'll give her position away in a few minutes and then I'll release you girls."

The blonde whimpered and sobbed, uncertain whether to believe this development. Amy Teele's body ached and hurt more than she remembered it had at any time during her young fifteen years. Even her boobies and cunny hurt where the whip strands had struck. Tears began to flow down her cheeks.

Robert stepped to the next helpless teen, it was Idy Constance. The seventeen-year-old tennis star had heard a man whispering in the dark to her friend Amy. When Amy whimpered, Idy broke out in a cold sweat, fearing more abuse. A man's large, rough hands gently cradled her head and she heard him whisper in her ear. She was elated at the news of their pending release and certain that he was telling the truth. "It has to be true," she told herself. Deep down, she knew she only wanted to hug her parents and crawl safely into her own bed.

Robert continued clockwise around the circle of tantalizing girl flesh. His cock was hard as a steel bar; but he was reserving its use for the second of the evil Heath twins. The last two captive tennis players were sixteen-year-old Joyce Gordon, a blonde and seventeen-year-old Loretta Cooper, a brunette. After touching each bare-skinned girl reassuringly, he moved to the center of the circle and whispered louder, "Across the hall is the last of your captors to remain loose. She is armed and very dangerous. I have a trap set for her and want you four to help spring it on her. All you have to do is speak to each other in normal voices on my signal. I'll do the rest. Please remain silent until I give the command." With that final admonition, Robert moved to Amy and reached behind her blonde head to loosen her ballgag straps. The huge rubber ball popped out with a wet plop and Robert kissed against her wet lips and open mouth. Amy's jaw muscles were so stretched and sore, she couldn't have resisted if she tried. Robert pushed his body tightly against hers and reached up high to allow slack in the chain holding her hands up high. Lastly, Robert reached around her back and unbuckled the heavy leather belt holding her to the rough timber post.

Idy's tongue danced back quickly against Robert's when he French kissed her wet, drool-covered face. His erection throbbed painfully at the mature girl's instant and obvious sexual response. He stepped away from her tempting body after loosening her bonds as he had Amy's. By the time Joyce and Loretta were ungagged and flexing their muscles free of the kinks in their joints, Robert was ready to fuck the cold stone walls of the chamber.

Robert moved to the center of the circle again and spoke out a little more loudly than before, "Girls, it's time to talk amongst yourselves and make some noise. See you in a few minutes." He was moving even as he finished speaking. Robert crouched by the entry to the Slave Training Room and was able to keep from glancing down the hall toward the Processing Chamber only from discipline instilled from grueling, dangerous missions as a U.S. Marine conducting quasi special-operations missions. The four girls' voices became louder as they ensured each was OK and they compared notes of their feelings about the capture, torture, and pending release.

Lisa still hadn't a clue what the fuck was going on. She was scared shitless and after Lori left to find out what happened with the lights, she had remained crouched safely behind the bimbo nurse when screams of terror and pain echoed down the corridor. The security provided by her Smith and Wesson Model 915 semi-automatic pistol was astounding. "I'm gonna nail the muthafuckers that come onto my turf," she vowed with a feral grin. "The fifteen-shot magazine is plenty enough to taken them down," she added to herself. Lisa kept a steady scanning motion with her pistol tightly locked in a perfect two-hand grip. A red dot of laser light steadily swept across the room as her aim shifted. Lisa Heath was ready to kill whoever was threatening her fledgling slaving operation and interfering with her sporting fun breaking in new slaves.

The babble of scared and excited voices drifted down the corridor to the Slave Processing Chamber. Lisa Heath grinned, knowing exactly where the bad guys were, and quickly moved across the room in a deep crouch, heading toward the main corridor. She swept decisively into the hall, intending to have her automatic in a ready aiming position when the world exploded around her. She had no qualms about killing whoever was in the complex. A fireball of light enveloped her body, instantly destroying her night vision, and the vibration of a shockingly loud explosion shook her insides. Lisa involuntarily squeezed off a round and completely disoriented, spun to bounce off a nearby stone wall before collapsing limply to the ground.

Robert reacted automatically, rolling low into the corridor and firing his taser as soon as he confirmed his target. He had taken aim at a delicious looking ass barely covered by a short black dress. Lisa was captured. Unlike the teasing striptease that Robert's partner, Gene, imposed on the twin sister, Robert first threw Lisa's limp frame onto a mattress laying on the cold stone floor, handcuffed her wrists to ankles, and then quickly sliced off her dress with his ready sheath knife. Even in the stygian darkness, the night vision goggles revealed a beautiful trim ass. "Lost your panties to get your little pussy eaten by your lesbian sister?" Robert taunted the captive woman as his gloved hand delved into the damp crease between her legs. After drenching a still damp ballgag used on one of the captive teens through the woman's slippery cunt crease, he jammed it into her mouth. Lisa was ignored, a naked bundle of fuckmeat laying on the rocky tunnel floor, while Robert moved back into the Processing Chamber.

"Target down," Robert's voice tersely commented into his throat microphone. "Moving in to check on the nurse now." As Robert came closer to the bound, naked form of the nurse, he couldn't help but whistle in appreciation. Even in the green glow of the night vision goggles, her lush, soft form renewed the throbbing in his cock. Her tits were perfect mounds, reaching up into the dark chamber even in her prone position. Her aristocratic facial features and long blonde hair topped off the wet-dream. "Maddalena Camillo, you are the hottest piece of ass I have ever rescued," Robert said smoothly to the woman. "The twins are each neutralized and the four captive tennis players are safe."

Maddalena Camillo was exhausted. The twins had been tormenting her thirty-six-year-old body for days. Her only respite was when the two bitches decided to wander off in search of new targets. After returning, they had spent the entire day with their four new sex toys. Then, the twins came back in and subjected her to a new, torturous level of pain. She moaned, still throbbing from the last round of abuse. Her inner thigh close to her pussy ached with a deep penetrating pain. The smell of burned flesh still clung to her body and she yearned to reach down to find out what Lori and Lisa had done to her.

Days earlier, the evil twins had hung her by her fat breasts and whipped her mercilessly. Maddalena flushed in remembrance of how eagerly she had performed lesbian sex with the girls to stop the punishment. She had eaten the twins to countless orgasms. Days later, they tired of the games and bound her on the examining table. They had inserted the gynecological exam legs down by her ass. Heavy nylon straps secured her feet and thighs to the stainless steel spreaders. Maddalena's upper body had been secured the same way, torso strapped tight to the table and her arms strapped in an outspread manner. She had been helpless to stop them. Lori had started the torture when she took piercing needles and stimulated Maddalena's fat nipples into rock-hard pebbles of sensitive nerves. Maddalena remembered blubbering like a baby as she begged the girls to stop. She didn't want her nipples pierced. Lori was relentless; she dragged the needle tip around her nipple, deeply scratching the areola. Maddalena was crying in humiliation and pain.

Lori had giggled and said, "Hmmm, my little bimbo, I think that the needle is too sharp. Let's blunt the tip first."

Maddalena heard the needle tip screech against the stainless steel of the examining table and then Lori's eyes were just inches from her face. The gigantic mounds of Maddalena's tits stuck up high enough for her horrified eyes to have a clear view of the needle deeply indenting her nipple as it fought to penetrate the surface. Lori had grunted aloud with the effort it took to tear into the tough skin of the nipple. Maddalena remembered her responding scream as much louder than Lori's grunt.

Lori had left the piercing needle in her nipple and passed a second needle to Lisa for her to use. Lisa had let her fingers linger on her sister's before she also blunted the needle tip on the steel examination table. Lisa cupped Maddalena's big breast in one hand, to steady her target, and pushed the needle straight through. Each girl had then threaded a golden loop through the newly pierced opening and clamped the ends of the ring shut. The twins had laughed at her pain and dismay at the ruination of her beautiful breasts and walked away for the next stage of Maddalena's torture.

By this point, Maddalena remembered losing her ability to focus on her tormentors. She didn't know whether it had been Lori or Lisa that attached strong binding clips to her pussy lips. Maddalena's right lips had been pulled hard to her right hip, opening up half of her pussy like pink petals on a flower. Her other lips were soon pulled obscenely to the left, leaving a gapping red opening where her vagina lie.

The other twin had approached with a glowing iron that Maddalena recognized as the ancient branding tool used by the Heath family on their black slaves. Maddalena had screamed at the top of her lungs for the girls to stop. She blushed in remembrance of her offers if only the twins didn't brand her. They had coldly informed her that as their pussymeat, she would do whatever they wanted anyway. Then, the shimmering iron approached her open pussy and Maddalena thought they were going to jam the thing right inside her. At the last minute, the girl wielding the branding iron shifted her aim and pressed it cleanly against her right inner thigh.

Maddalena had been bound in a fetal position for days after her branding before the twins brought her back to the exam table. Being on the table brought back the imagined stench of her burning flesh. One of the twins had lubricated her cunt and was fisting her entire hand deep in her stretched cunt when the lights went out. The twins had cried out in fear as they tried to figure out what happened.

The man whispering reassuringly to her in the darkness promised that she was safe now. She sagged in relief upon hearing that the twins were neutralized and that the teenagers were soon to be released. Gentle hands brushed against her bound form, releasing her legs and torso from their tight bondage. She whimpered as she felt the soft sting of a syringe penetrate her buttocks.

"Maddalena, it's only a light sedative. I need you to relax and get a good night's sleep. You will have to help us recover your employer, Roland Heath, in the morning. Sleep. Don't fight it, you're a nurse; so, you know that if you relax, it will help you slip into deep sleep. Rest to be strong tomorrow."

The reassuring voice convinced her to cooperate. Maddalena's initial reaction upon hearing that her employer and long-time lover was in trouble had been to struggle against her bonds and try to help. The gentle hands soothed her tummy and she let the drug take her into blushful sleep.

Robert reluctantly brought his hand away from her tight belly. The need to get his nuts off was growing to be point of being uncontrollable. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "This is a nice piece of ass. Roland is one lucky bastard."

"Bring your bitch to Training Room Number One," Robert commanded into the microphone. "The twins have a little lesson coming while we hit the main house in search of their mama, Jeanne Heath."

Lisa hung naked in the flashlight beams. Her full breasts heaved in fear as Robert cinched a leather belt tight around her waist, securing her to the rough timber beam behind her. She knew what was next, the tightening of the chain holding her wrists high overhead. She involuntarily whimpered in fear. "Help, me," she begged. "Help me and I'll pay you well."

Robert leaned in and smelled her sweaty fear. "Little bitch, I'll never help you. You are gonna pay for what you did here. Turning innocent teenagers into your sex toys and then sex slaves; you deserve the same treatment."

"No, please," she begged back, "you don't understand. I have millions of dollars and I'll be your little pretend slave. I'm a great fuck. Let me loose and I'll fuck your brains out. I'll help you turn my sister into a slave slut. Really! I will."

Robert laughed again in her ear. He ran a hand down each side of her body and came up under her tight breasts. "Little bitch, you are my slave now," he growled as his hands each grasped a breast and squeezed as hard as he could. "Further," he added, "If I want a fuck and you don't screw back like a possessed sex demon, I'll start cutting off body parts. Then, as a last resort rather than killing you, I'll sell you off to work in an African whorehouse as the only white bitch within hundreds of miles. Your flea-bitten, lice-infested body will be used all day long, seven days a week. You'll age ten years for each year you spend whoring yourself for less than three dollars a fuck. Yep, even white pussy like you is cheap in Africa. Of course, AIDS will kill you within six years or so." With that, his hand relaxed their grip on her titties and instead, his thumbs and forefingers grabbed a little brown nubbin of a nipple and twisted viciously.

Lisa Heath collapsed in pain from the breast squeezing and then the nipple crunching. She really howled in fear when she saw her twin, Lori, dragged in looking as if she had just left a gang rape.

The two men swiftly secured Lori. The flashlight beams swept quickly around the room before slowing long enough to spotlight the four teens captured earlier that day.

"Girls," Robert said, "time for a little revenge. Here in the room with you are the two young women who kidnapped you, beat you, and were readying you for sale as sex slaves. They are chained and at your mercy for the next few hours. We have one more accomplice to deal with and then we'll get you ready to go home. So, you'll be locked in here, safe, with drinks, food, flashlights, and whips and paddles. The only three rules; don't let them loose (they're too dangerous), no scars and no killing. Make them howl for mercy."

Lisa and Lori were already begging for their lives. They were blubbering so hard at the turn in events, that it was difficult to keep track of their bribes and sexual offers. The freed teens descended upon the two women and howls of pain and shouts for forgiveness reverberated off the stone walls before the thick oaken training room door slammed shut. Gene slid a heavy timber down, locking the six women in together.

Gene looked at Robert and grinned, "Gotta say, my man, you have done well. We are close to finding my old friend Roland Heath. Hmmm, you didn't even get any ass yet. You OK with that?"

Robert clapped Gene on the shoulder and simply said, "Let's go take care of the daughter. She is the only one that knows where Roland is. She may not be guilty of becoming a slaver, but what she has done is just as bad."

--- To Be Continued ---

Author: Desert Dog ****** E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

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