Private Investigations

This story is totally a figment of my imagination. While the story starts out in a light vein, it progressively gets darker, ending in a much darker way. It is not the typical type of story found on this site, but rather takes both a different story tone and story direction. If you are offended by violence, do not read any further.

Private Investigations

Case #1: The Collectors Organization

It had started out a bad morning

The window still says HECTOR AND LAYNIE, PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS, even though Hectors been missing for nine months now. Doesn't matter to me, I'm not changing it. Some idiot from maintenance came by a little after he disappeared and tried to scrape his name off the door, but I ran him off with a broken stapler.

I opened the door to our office and tripped over a stack of bills that had been pushed through the mail slot, but managed to keep my balance and continued on in even if I didn't quite look like I had taken three years of ballerina lessons beginning when I was eight.

My office has that musty-carpet, old-lady-forgot-to-put-out-the-dirty-clothes smell that hits me every time I come in. Which is surprising since the carpet was repossessed two months ago. Even worse, I left the lights on when I was last in and god only knows what my electric bill will be.

Speaking of bills, I pushed the stack on the floor over to the side where they joined the growing heap behind the door. I take a quick glance and see that most of them appear to be irate notes printed on pink paper; long wordy documents that begin with “Please Remit Promptly.” The good thing about crappy credit is that you no longer get the countless circulars from credit card companies offering pre-approved silver, gold, platinum, and for all I know, uranium cards. I'm long passed worrying about these guys. The time for worrying won't come until they start sending guys out and leaving personal messages taped to my door.

The answering machine on the desk is blinking and I've got a bunch of messages. Perhaps one of them might even be for a job. I walk over, reach out slowly and punch play.

Beep. “Ms. Laynie, this is Mr. Corubun at the Mortgage Unit of the Second National Bank. You should have received documents from our legal department regarding our notice of foreclosure for non-payment of rent for the last year.” Erase. A little bird begins flying in my stomach, but determinedly, I listen on.

Beep. “Hello. Please call Visa Card at---.” I don't really worry about these guys too much until they start getting a little more aggressive. Erase.

Beep. Silence. Click. I love those kinds of calls.

Beep. “Hello, my name is Carole and I'm calling from Visa Card----.” Erase.

It goes on like that for another four or five messages, when suddenly;

Beep. “Hey, it's Rubin at Zero-One.” Rubin's a pretty good guy even though he works for one of the biggest jackasses of the world. Zero-One is the largest private eye firm in the city and it controls all the good, high paying business the creeps in this burg can generate. Sometimes they hand out menial jobs that they don't have the manpower for, but I haven't had anything from them since Hector disappeared. Seems I don't have the personality that suits the suits at Zero-One. But Rubin's always been good to me and has never pretended that he didn't know me when we passed on the street.

“Mr. Baughman wants to see you at 4 this afternoon.” He lowers his voice, “He might have some work for you. It's a job, Jaynie.”

I know, I know. I was only married once a long time ago, and his name was Laynie. Jaynie Laynie. With a first name of Jaynie, you wouldn't believe the number of assholes whose arms I had to break to get them to lay off. Anyway, it was better than my maiden name, Schnitzelgruber, which is too close to Schickelgruber, which is too close to the Fuehrer. So I stayed with Laynie, even after the asshole split.

I dump the rest of the messages and think back to the last time I worked for Baughman. It was one of those missing school girl cases and I'd been lucky enough to solve it. She'd been kidnapped by some pretty rough biker dudes and I'd kicked ass. Well, sort of. Anyway, I got her out of there before they'd had a chance to abuse her too much and Baughman had showed as much pleasure as he ever shows someone that he doesn't need something from—which is to say none.

My head started to hurt and I needed to lay down, so I walked over to the couch and laid down to take a short power snooze. I dream of men that wanted to take me away from all of this and I dream of the ways that I fuck that up too. I never was very smart.

At a little after 4, I walk into Baughman's office and he's waiting for me, just like I knew he would be. Zero-One's a national organization and he runs this regional office like his own little kingdom. He's got a fat ass, big belly, jowls, small piggy eyes and a poor comb-over. I like the way the Japanese describe his hair, “Moon peaking through bamboo shoots.” Heh.

He doesn't say anything, but just looks at me and I know what he sees. I'm almost 30 years old, stand 5' 8” in my stocking feet and I rarely wear stockings. I weigh in at around 140 pounds; depending upon how busy I've been and how much coffee I've been drinking. I am NOT your petite type, but I snuggle well. But only God knows, I haven't had the chance to do much of that in the last three or four years. I've got short brown hair, brown eyes and even features. When I put it down like that, it doesn't sound like much, but I've got to tell you, I always get more than my share of guys looking. Maybe it's because of my figure, which seems to pretty much maintain itself even when I'm abusing it with all sorts of crap food and never exercising. My breasts are not small, but they're not very large either. But I trust ‘em; they've have always stuck up for me whenever I needed them. I have a small waist and two other things going for me—a killer set of legs and a great ass. But no one has seen them in almost two year now—and that's a story for another time.

All men do anymore now is stare at me from a distance—seems I've recently gotten a look in my eyes that doesn't invite intimate conversation. But that's OK, I can live with that. I'm not what you'd call a real breakable broad; I guess I'm a little mean and I have a real problem with authority figures. Besides, over the last four years I've found that I can take pain as well as dish it out. Didn't have a lot of choice when I made that discovery, but that too is another story for another time.

Anyway, I get to Zero-One and go on up to the second floor where all the executives have their offices. The secretaries ignore me or at least pretend to—god, I'd hate having to work in an office like this. The big man's door is open and I walk in without knocking. Baughman is his usual asshole self and waits for me behind his desk. He makes me walk across the large office and stand in front of him. Only two ratty chairs by the wall. No chairs near his desk. It's his idea of power foreplay.

He's sitting in his big leather chair and I wouldn't be surprised if his ass wasn't wedged into it permanently. He's smoking one of those big nasty-assed cigars of his and even in the late afternoon, it's still waaaay too early for my stomach.

I've got a nice little buzz going and I figure that it's just right for Zero-One. People are slow walking me, but I still have enough of a head that I can catch everything that I want and filter out the rest. I listen as Baughman starts his pitch. He never wastes time or words with people he considers flunkies.

“Gotta question for you, Laynie,” he growled as he readjusts his fat ass on that poor chair. “You drunk or high?”

“That's rough,” I reply.

“No bullshit, you drunk?” he asked again.

“No,” I replied truthfully. “I'm not drunk.”

“We gotta case for your sorry ass,” he growled.

I immediately turned and started walking out of his office as I said over my shoulder, “Fuck you.”

I stopped when he said, “I know people at banks and credit card companies. And I know when someone's hit bottom. Siddown!”

I sat, reluctantly.

He continued, “You don't got a choice but to listen to guys like me. You got no money left—you're flat on your ass in the gutter.”

I didn't really appreciate his characterization of my life, but couldn't ague with the facts. I listened.

“Ya know, I don't gotta have you here. There's lotsa' other dicks around that would probably be less of a pain in the ass. But I've got a soft spot in my heart for you because of Hector.”

“I'd be very grateful for the opportunity---,” I begin, trying to sound like I'm not too much of an ass kisser.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he cut in. “I've got 15 pieces of shit working around here and all of them tell me they're busy, milking time sheets and expenses. You're the last thing I need, especially if you try to fuck me the way you did last time with your billing.”

“No, no,” I assure him. “Nothing like last time. You know, I was surprised when you called-,” I begin.

“You talk too much,” he interrupted. “I got a small job that maybe I can find a way to use you, but no more of the crap like you pulled last time. Gotta be clean, minimum hours and wrapped up like a Christmas present.”

“Clean and wrapped,” I agreed. “Not like the last time.”

There was silence for a minute, then he asked, “You over it?”

“Over what?”

“Over losing your partner of ten years?”

“It was twelve years.”

“You over it?”

Yeah, I'm over it,” I lie. How can you be over something that it took twelve years to build and a night to destroy? Especially when you don't know what you did, or what he did or who did it to him and why; he just disappeared.

The fat rat-bastard continued talking like I was a cheap piece of linoleum that had somehow curled up from the floor. “The job's checking out a warehouse fire that took off two nights ago. It's owned by a conglomerate out of the Caribbean . The insurance company thinks there's something funny and would love to not have to pay off the claim. I want you to check out the fire and see if there's anything funny going down.”

“Can you handle that? If so, get outta here and start checking it out.””

I quickly assure him that that is definitely within the realm of Hector and Laynie, and he waves me off to his mousy male secretary for the details. Not another word, the arrogant bastard!

I grabbed the brown folder waiting for me on the eunuch's desk and head out onto the steps. I walk out looking at the folder and figure that what I need to do first is to head to the docks to check out the scene. I'm wearing a white oxford shirt tucked into blue jeans, an old navy blue blazer and comfortable running shoes, so it shouldn't be a problem. I'd heard about the fire and knew where to go, so I hopped into my old Blazer ready to do investigating. Of course, the ‘effing rust bucket picks this moment to play some games with me, and all of a sudden, my headache from this morning is back. After a couple of pumps on the gas pedal, we're finally started in a cloud of blue smoke and I'm on my way.

When I get to the docks, I notice there's still a few people kicking around the rubble and I walk over to one small group and try to listen in. They're too good for me, must be the Fed's “A” team, and they give me a hard look and the “move on” motion with their hands. I'm no dummy, so I move on.

Eventually, I walk around back where there's still some walls standing. Coupla' other guys poking around, but nothing exciting. Nothing much really to look at here, just bent and burned pieces of tin and a few pieces of wood. I walk around another corner and bend down to pick up a piece of suspicious looking pipe when BLAM. Some rat bastard had just snuck up on me and clobbered me on the back of my head. The lights fade and go out slowly like the way a cheap bastard pays his bills.

When I came to, I was bent over the wrought iron foot board at end of a bed. The headache from earlier was back, my head hurt all over and it felt like someone had been using a rubber hose on me. I look around blearily and realize that I'm in some cheesy, two-bit room in some cheesy, two-bit flop house. The wall paper is old and peeling, the floor's a battered pine that hasn't been painted or polished in centuries, and the one window in the room has been painted over so that no one can see in or out. There's one light hanging from the ceiling and it's slowly swaying back and forth. I feel like I woke up in an old Bogart movie.

My hands were tied in back of me and my ankles were tied to each foot of the bed. There was another rope that went over my back and under my arms then disappeared under the bed; this last rope making sure I wasn't standing up. There was a gag or something in my mouth. I tried tonguing it, but it was too big. Sort of tasted like one of them big cheap ass rubber balls about twice the size of a golf ball. It was held in place by a piece of duct tape.

Oh. One other thing. I was naked too.

Actually, I'm standing there with my ass pooched in the air like it was Mt. McKinley and some mountain climber's ready to plant a flag in it. All in all, this was a revolting development, and I had no idea how I had gotten myself into it and even less idea of how I was going to get out of it. It suddenly dawns on me that someone doesn't want this fire investigated and that Baughman, the fat rat-bastard, had probably known this but didn't think it was worth telling me about. Me and him are gonna have to have a heart to heart as soon as I get out of this.

So I start working on the ropes that are tied around my wrists. It's a long slow process. After I'd stood there for about an hour trying to do my Houdini act, I heard the door open behind me. I twist my head around to see who I had as a visitor; ya gotta be kidding. It's a dwarf, or midget; I forget which has what build. Anyway, this little guy with medium long greasy black hair and a goatee and an intense, sort of squinty look on his face comes in and he's dressed all in black.

I can't help myself and I start laughing ‘cause he looks like a short ‘Johnny Cashed Out' or something. I'm making a noise behind the gag like “Haarrmmmph, HHaarrmmph. HHHHAARRmmmppphh,” and all I can say is thank god, because I guess he thinks I'm pleading with him instead of laughing at him. Slowly, he pulls out a braided leather whip out of a small closet that I hadn't noticed. He holds the whip in his right had and threateningly, he pulls it through his left hand over and over again. I notice that it's a short leather whip and this gets me laughing all over again.

He walks up behind me and disappears from my sight. All of a sudden I hear a crack and that little sucker had wrapped that piece of rawhide right across my ass. It really wasn't too bad, but I couldn't stop my head from snapping up though and I'll admit, a little bit of a scream gargled out from behind my gag. There was a long moment in which nothing happened, then that tiny piece of shit wrapped it around my ass again. Crack! Wait, wait, wait, Crack. He took his time; wait, wait, wait, Crack. Wait, Crack—damn, he surprised me on that one. Then CRACK, he put it between my legs and wrapped it directly on my genitals from the back and then up onto the lower part of my abdomen. That got my attention.

This went on for about ten minutes and I was finally starting to get a little pissed. He'd gotten in a couple of good ones, but wasn't exactly an expert with his tiny whip. He'd been playing Siegfried and Roy to my pussy for long enough and I was ready to go big cat on his ass. I turned my head to him as best I could and pointed down with eyes to my gag and then waggled my eyebrows sexily, all the while I was making seductive cooing sounds with my mouth—at least they were what I hoped he thought were seductive sounds. I wanted him to think I was beaten and maybe ready to go to the next stage. If I ever got his cock anywhere near my teeth, he wouldn't even have a stump left when he got out of here.

Can a gagged woman coo and waggle her eyebrows in a sexy, seductive sort of way? I still don't know the answer to that question since he didn't take the gag out, but just started undressing. This was going to real interesting real fast. I watched him as best I could as he first took off his shoes and socks, and then his pants. He was bow-legged and had on boxers and they hung down past his knees like Capri pants. I started laughing again, I swear to god, I couldn't help it. So here I am tied naked to the foot of a bed with my striped ass stuck in the air going “HHAArrmmph, HHaarrmmpphh,” again and he's getting all turned on by it.

Looking at me intensely, he finally pulls his boxers slowly off of his hips and drops them on the floor, and then he unbuttons and removes his shirt. His upper body is well defined and quite muscular--I've been kidnapped by a dwarf body builder. Obviously he's been using steroids while lifting weights because he's got a dick the size of a checker that's made it to the back row and been kinged.

“HHHHAAARRRMMmpphh. HHHHAAARRRMMpphh,” I helplessly start all over again and now my body is shaking all over and he still thinks I'm afraid of him.

The man that used to be in black starts stroking himself and eventually got an intermediate size erection going. Actually, it was pretty impressive when you take into account where he started from. Reaching between my legs, he begins to rub me and play with my clit. I have to admit, my social calendar hasn't been exactly filled with individuals of either sex eager to go out with me. Alright, alright, what I'm really saying is it's been awhile since I've been with a man and even this doesn't feel half bad. The small dude finger fucks me for a little while and gets my hips moving around on their own, sort of like a flag flapping in a medium wind. Lucky for my pride, this guy ain't hot enough for them to act like they were in a high wind. Like I say, its been awhile.

Next, he switches from fingering my pussy and playing with my clit to poking his stubby fingers up my ass. That only hurts for a moment and then his finger's lubricated with god only knows what and I'm not in too much pain. He only does this for a couple of moments, so I guess my ass doesn't interest him much. Whoops, I spoke a little soon because now the stumpy bastard has gotten out a thin piece of bamboo that's about two feet long and he's whipping my ass again. I'm starting to think there's a trend going on here.

OK, he's put everything down and I guess he's ready to go to Act Two. I think he thinks I'm both afraid of him and ready to go too. That's when he goes back into that damnable closet of his and comes back out with a folding step stool.

“HHHAAARRRMMMPPHH. HHHAAARRMMPPHH. HHHAAARRRMMMPPHH.” I start all over again.

Like I said, it had started out a bad morning.

I exaggerate; actually it wasn't too bad. I can't say he was my most considerate lover, but he certainly was one of the most enthusiastic. There wasn't a lot imagination on his part, what with me being tied to the end of the bed and him needing his stool. But all in all, a girl can't complain. He'd taken me in the ass and I can't really say I appreciate that. Been there, done that, and can't say that I care for it, but like I said, that's another case, another story. He didn't use a condom, and I guess he didn't believe in lubrication; I know he didn't like foreplay. I took it as best I could knowing that someday, my turn would come and I'd bust his balls big time.

I've never understood women being so upset about forced sex; I guess it's something that we're taught from an early age. I'm a practical sort of person myself though, and all I know is that when something is inevitable, it doesn't do any good to fight it. So I didn't, and I even got a small amount of pleasure, no pun intended.

The little dude still hadn't said a word and I couldn't, so the social atmosphere left a lot to be desired. He only took me once. When he finished with me, he dressed and put his whip, cane and stool back in the closet, locked it and walked out the door without a word. Strange little man, I thought to myself, we will meet again. And when we do, watch your back asshole, ‘cause I'm coming for you.

I began working on my ropes again, trying to get free. As I struggled with them, I could feel his semen draining out of me, running down the insides of my thighs. I managed to ignore this as I concentrated on the ropes around my wrists. After about another hour, they were loose enough that I could get them off of my wrists. It took me another ten minutes to get all of the ropes untied and finally I stood up straight for the first time in that crappy rented room.

Immediately, I started checking the room out, looking for my clothes and some kind of a weapon. I couldn't find any of my clothing and the dwarf's closet was locked and beyond my meager attempts to open.

I was annoyed at this point with my lack of luck, when all of a sudden I heard a key at the door to my “suite”. Quickly, I moved behind the door and waited for it to open towards me, putting me behind it. I saw a figure move into the room and I was beyond caring who it was. I stepped forward, spinning on the balls of my left foot and snap-kicked the edge of my right foot to the outside of the man's right knee. I heard the joint explode and he grabbed the edge of the door to hold himself up. I spun in close and shot a reverse elbow to his throat and he immediately forgot about the door and his knee, straightening up for just a second and putting both of his hands around his neck. I looked down at him as he looked at me, and then with bulging eyes he collapsed on floor. I checked him out and he was dying. A collapsed wind pipe will do that to you.

The bastard was blocking the door and I had to get it shut. Fortunately, even though he was turning a dark blue in the face and still kicking a little, he was another one of the tiny people so he wasn't hard to drag into the middle of the room. Unfortunately, this meant that he had nothing on that I could wear. He didn't have a billfold on him and there was no ID or money. This was getting ridiculous.

Nothing else was available in the room, so I walked over and cracked the door enough to see out. The hall looked like more of the room, and I thought to myself, the midget and I need to pick a higher class place for our next rendezvous. And he'll be paying the bill next time, instead of me.

There was nothing for it, so I left the “safety” of the room and went out into the hall. Sneaking down to the end past four or five doors, I was lucky because no one came out or saw me. It turned out that I was on one of the upper floors since there were stairs at the end of the hall. Go up or go down? After thinking about that for a nanosecond, I snuck down the stairs to the next landing. Some sort of a lobby opened out in front of me, but it was empty. So I started across it towards the back.

I'd reached the back wall and was about to go through the door there when it opened in front of me and a tall, thin white guy that looked like he hadn't eaten in a week stood there, stupidly looking at my naked body. So I kicked him in the balls and laid a right across his chin. He went down like the Titanic, and stayed down. After I'd kicked him in the neck one more time, making sure I didn't break any toes on his bony body, I stepped over him and went down the hallway. There was a small room on the side in which some dingy laundry had been stacked. I grabbed a stained table cloth and wrapped it around my shoulders. I wouldn't be back to see what kind of food they served.

I tried to pretend that I was from New Delhi as I stepped out into the alley wearing my shawl. You know, method acting tells you to get into your part and I sure as hell didn't have any other wardrobe choices at the moment. I walked down the alley to one of the thousands of minor side streets in this town and hung a left. I figured I'd try to find out where I was first and take it one step at a time from there.

In less than a block, I walked by a small old guy sitting in a doorway, begging for money. Traffic had gotten a little heavy now, so after a quick look left and right, I stepped in and kicked him in the stomach and grabbed his kitty. I guess he didn't expect to get mugged by a barefooted, wild-eyed bimbo wearing only a tablecloth at around nine at night; but I needed it more than him. The incompetent bastard only had around $8 and change, so I knew Vegas was out. I was usually much more lady-like than this and always tried to do the Emily Post sort of thing. But you know, I was starting to feel a little like a bully; this was third guy I'd totaled in about 10 minutes.

I wandered the streets for another 15 minutes before I finally found a bus stop that had some people waiting at it. I felt a lot better having people around me, even though from the looks I was getting the feeling was not mutual. After a short time a bus pulled up and I got on, along with most of the people that had been waiting. I didn't know where it went and didn't know where I was, but I figured that I would be safe as long as I was on it. After paying $2.50 fare, I walked back about half way and sat down.

It had been years since I'd been forced to ride public transportation, but nothing had changed. I don't know what had died on this bus, but judging from the waves of scents coming at me from the back rows, it was large, it was ugly and it had eaten a lot of chili and drank a lot of beer just before it died.

The woman sitting next to me had a strip of tinfoil wrapped around her head like a sweat band. She's yelling something at me about it helping her keep her moist bits away from the insects, but I don't question her constitutional right to insanity. I manage to nod my head in agreement, then put my forehead against the window glass in an obvious move to ignore her. I've still got my headache, so I'd like to open the window, but someone's put a large wad of pink gum over the window clasp, so I just ride instead. I lean back and try to close my eyes, shutting out the coughs and the sneezes, and the endless rant about extra-terrestrial insects.

Riding the bus took me back; Hector'd been a firm believer in public transportation. I don't how or why he did it, but he always managed to ride the buses at least once a week. He said it helped him maintain contact with the people. And while there wasn't one person on this bus that I'd want to either make or maintain contact with, I understood his point.

Hector. What the hell had happened to him? The last time I'd seen him, he was walking out of our office. We'd had a small and inconsequential argument about a small and inconsequential case. We'd just gotten another crumby offering from Zero-One and he left saying he'd get in touch with me as soon as he got to LA. I ignored him and that was the last thing that he'd ever heard from me—silence. I really felt bad about that.

After Hector had been gone for three days, I checked out the case from Zero-One and it was a nothing but missing persons. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what had happened to him, but never could find a trail. Even without Hector, I'd solved the case in about a week and that was the one that Baughman was always busting my chops about billing and stuff. What an asshole. But I never did hear from Hector again.

In about 20 minutes, I'm finally getting to a part of town that I recognize. I get off the bus and head over to my office wearing my tablecloth. I've got a key hidden under one of the potted plants outside of the dance school across the hall and I let myself into my office. The first thing I do is go to the sink in my half bath and give myself a whore's bath. After that, I brush my teeth and gargle with a spot of bourbon. I'm finally starting to feel human. I get a change of clothes and put on a pair of beaten down old tennie runners. I don't give a second thought to what that little man did to me tonight; now I'm ready for the bastards.

Grabbing my spare keys and what remains of the petty cash, I stick it all in my pants. With what I have left from the old man, this gives me about $20. I unlock the lower right hand drawer of my desk and pull out my 32 snub nosed. Not a lot of stopping power, but I don't plan on using it anyway. However, like the girl scouts say, always be prepared—or is that the boy scouts? Next, I pull on an old windbreaker and I'm done.

Finally ready, I head back out the door to go pick up my Bronco. I'd left the folder that Baughman had given me in it, and I had to do some hard studying now. Something wasn't right and I might get an idea of what was crooked if I spent a little more time going over what Baughman had given me.

I grab another bus going back the way I just came and nothing's changed; might as well been the same bus but with a different set of fruit baskets riding it. This time, however, I know where I'm going so I feel a little better. When I get back out to the docks, it's dark and windy and no place for a lady. But that's okay, because I'm no lady.

The Bronco's where I left it and it seems okay. I hop in and it starts on the first try so I know that my luck's gettin' better. I pull out and drive for 10 minutes to a small greasy diner that I know stays open all night. Ordering coffee and a piece of nasty looking chocolate pie, I open Baughman's binder and start reading.

Not much in it. The warehouse's owned by a consortium out of Jamaica ; export and import. Doesn't say what they're moving in or moving out. Doesn't give me any names, no other subsidiary companies and not much info on the insurance coverage. Sort of reminds me of the package that Hector and I got last time when I went after that school girl; that was just after Hector'd disappeared. Like it was written by Sgt. Friday from Dragnet: “Just the facts, ma'm.”

This gets me to thinking, so I get some change and walk over to the phone to call my one contact that owns a computer. She's “super geek” to me and lives alone, making her living by tapping into data bases all over the country and selling the information. How she hasn't been taken in and forced to work for the CIA's beyond me. Anyway, Becky answers and she's a little pissed, since it's after her bedtime by now. But when she hears my voice, she calms down and we talk for a minute. Hector and I'd helped her awhile ago and she still thinks she owes us. But that's another story for another time.

I asked Super Geek if she could help me find out anything more about the warehouse; like what individuals were behind the company façade, what did the company buy and sell, what was the nationality of the owners, and did they own any more property? You know, the same kind of important PI stuff that the guys on the TV shows always ask about. Now that she was awake, Super Geek was more than willing to help me. She assured me she'd get right on it and wanted to know where she could contact me. I gave her this phone number and told her I'd be there for the next hour, and after that I'd be sleeping in my office.

In about 45 minutes, the phone on the wall rings and whaddaya know, it's for me. Becky gives me the information that she has so far. It's not much, but it's better than I had before she calls. She has a list of names of the owners of the Caribbean Import/Export Company; I don't recognize any of them. It also seems that there's another warehouse owned by these guys and it's not too far from where the fire took place. After getting the address, I thank Becky and tell her to keep on working. For some reason, I want this information sooner rather than later.

Hopping into my Bronco, I head back to the warehouse district. It's gettin' on to midnight now and the docks are a spooky place; lots of shadows and the winds kicking up now. I find the address that I'm looking for and drive on by. I park around the corner about two blocks away. Making sure that the 32 is tucked into the back of my jeans, I head back to the warehouse that Becky had found for me.

The place was one of those old two-story red brick jobs that can be found in any city of any size in North America . It dated back to the time when things were a lot simpler, and people were a lot nicer. At least, that's what I always tell myself. I carefully check out any potential security systems and don't see anything except a couple of cameras that are set up in a way that a blind man could avoid ‘em. The doors were the type that automatically locked after you used it and you needed a key to open from either the outside or the inside.

Now I'm not particularly good at picking locks, so I waited around to see what would happen. I was standing in the shadows near one of the doors when I heard a sound. In a couple of seconds, a door opened about 15 feet from me and two guys walked out, talking and laughing. I waited for a second to see which way they'd turn and when they turned away from me I headed towards the door that was slowly closing. I got there before it closed and left it cracked while I fumbled around and finally found a piece of paper on the ground near my feet. I grabbed the paper, wadded it up and stuck it in the door frame so that the lock wouldn't work and I went on in.

The building was over 30 feet tall on the inside and had a lot of windows that'd all been painted over. The most interesting thing is that there was another set of walls with a roof built about 20 feet inside of the brick walls. This made it a building contained within a building.

There was another door to the inner building in front of me and a small part of the wall there had not yet been finished. The walls were framed with 2 x 4's and had had 1” plywood for inside walls and gypsum board as the outside walls. The space between the two had been blown full of an insulating foam and since it wasn't a real hot environment here, I figured it might have been more to stop sound than it was to keep in heat.

I slowly walked around the interior building and estimated that it was probably in excess of 200' by about 100‘, making it more than 20,000 square feet. It was big and it had two doors, one on each of the long ends.

The doors into the interior building had the same kinds of locks that the outside doors did, so I was stopped again. I looked around for a second and saw a ladder bolted into one of the brick walls. I was taking a chance, but I went ahead and climbed until I was about 20 feet off of the ground. I looked over onto the roof of the interior building and could that there were sky lights built into it in a couple of places. It seemed a crazy place to put them, but there they were.

I needed to get closer and look into the sky lights or get inside the building somehow. I went back down the ladder and prowled around for a couple of minutes, but there was no way I was getting on top of the roof with the stuff that was here. Just when I was ready to give up and leave, the original door that I had used to come in opened and the same two guys that had left earlier came back in. I was standing half way between the inside and the outside walls and there was nothing to hide behind. Both of them saw me at the same time and both began drawing what I supposed were guns. I got my 32 out first and was able to get off one shot and winged the guy closest to me. The other bastard remained standing behind his friend where I couldn't get a clean shot at him and then he leaned up over his friend's right shoulder and shot me with a TASER.

Of course, I did what any self respecting girl would do after he lit me up like a cheap Christmas tree; I dropped my gun and began shuddering and jerking like I was having an epileptic fit. After about 15 seconds of juice, he laid off and I dropped like a stone. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

I laid there in my own little world, not caring at that point what happened to me. There was a lot of yelling and then a couple of guys grabbed my arms and dragged me into the inner building. I had wanted to see what was inside there and now was my chance. I was kicking ass today!

They dragged me into a little room that faced the door they'd dragged me through and then they flipped me onto a chair. I couldn't control my body yet, so I kept sliding off of the chair and this was really pissing someone off, but I couldn't see who it was. I felt them pull my wrists behind my back and heard myself being handcuffed to the chair. Somebody grabbed my hair and pulled my head up and looked into my eyes. Well, well, well; hello Little Man. If my legs had been working, I'd a kicked him right in his tiny balls. He forced my mouth open and put a large round red gag in mouth that had a leather strap that tied in back of my neck. The red ball had a small hole in it that I could breathe through and I later found that I could let my saliva drool out the hole when I needed to. They didn't bother tying my ankles to anything, but that was okay by me since I had no plans of going anywhere. It was late and I had been sodomized, beaten, whipped, caned and zapped, all in the last few hours and I was really tired. I fell asleep in the chair.

Somebody was poking me in the side and it was pissing me off. I finally came awake and realized that I was still handcuffed in the chair. Little Man turned to one of his flunkies and told him to take me to number 13. The flunky grabbed my hair and pulled me up, sliding the back of chair out from between my handcuffed arms and my body. He kept his handful of my hair and dragged me out the door to the right, where there was short corridor before it took another right. Now there was very long, well lit hallway ahead of me. It was painted institutional white and had what appeared to be a number of transparent doors opening both to the left and the right. Soon he was joined by another guy and they began dragging me down the hall and we passed the first room on the left. Inside was a woman laying on a narrow bed. She had long dark hair and a petite body, but was beautiful in her own exotic sort of way. She looked at me without interest as I was dragged by and then we went by the room on the right.

This room contained another woman, younger than the first. I could hear her sobbing through the transparent door. Where the dark haired woman had probably been in her early to mid-20's, this girl was no more than 16 or 17. She had medium length honey blonde hair and was quite a bit more voluptuous, with a lot of curves shooting out all over the place.

It was easy for me to tell because both of them had been naked.

I looked down the corridor and realized that if there were two halls like this inside this building and if every room were filled, there could be more than 80 people being held captive here. It was a goddamm slave factory.

They dragged me about half way down the hall and stopped at a door on the left. They unlocked it and threw me in, then the two of them walked in after me. Both of these guys were pretty good sized and somewhere in their late 20's to early 30's. They radiated power; I wouldn't have been surprised if they hadn't brought some sand along to kick it in my face. Short hair, bulked up biceps and shoulders, and carrying a little extra weight, they both looked like ex-college football players that had finally started to go to seed. It was easy to tell their builds because the only thing they were wearing was a black, loinclothy kind of thing.

The lighting inside wasn't too good, but it was enough to look around. The cell was about 10 feet by 10 feet and had a narrow bed on one side and a metal toilet, sink and mirror on the other side. The walls were painted a flat burgundy and the floor was concrete that had been painted gray. The bed frame was made out of stamped steel and was bolted to the floor. On the end opposite the door, there was a rack built into the wall and it had a couple of those hangers that you see at Howard Johnson's; they're made to never come off of the rack.

I was still woozy from the earlier bug zapping and the two guys had no trouble throwing me on the bed. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I was able to turn and land on my back on the mattress. I immediately scooted over and got my back against the wall and my feet up. I was ready to kick their asses when they both rushed me at the same time. I gave the guy on my right a good shot in the face with both feet, but then they were all over me and it was done.

One pulled me up by my hair while the other landed three quick shots to my guts. I feel no shame when I say that that took all of the fight out of me. The blonde guy let go of my hair as I slowly rolled over on the mattress onto my side. I concentrated on trying to breathe, but it wasn't going too well, when I felt them lift my hips up and start taking my jeans off. They got them down to my ankles and then had to stop while they took my shoes off. I looked at the darker guy and he was laughing. I didn't know what he could be laughing about, but I tried to kick him in the chops again. He reached up and slapped me twice on the face, real hard. Then he went back to helping his friend strip me.

Within seconds they had my jeans and panties off and Blondie literally ripped off my top and athletic bra—he was a hell of a lot stronger than he looked. I was naked in front of these assholes and I knew it wasn't going be fun. I'd tried to hurt them and had killed one of their people. I just hoped they didn't know about that yet.

Darkie made a loop out of my belt and tied it around my neck and then around the top of the bed frame—my head wasn't going anywhere. Blondie grabbed my ankles and pulled them apart as far as he could. I tried to fight him but it was no use, he was just too strong for me. Both of the guys were laughing their asses off at me now and Darkie started stripping. I cannot tell you how much this pissed me off. I wanted to kill both of them and would if I ever got the chance. They didn't know who they were fucking with.

Darkie was naked by now and stroking himself, getting ready to fuck me. Normally, I think I can shut this kind of stuff out of my mind, but this was different. They weren't angry with me or want revenge for some imagined slight. I wasn't a one time girlfriend and sure I wasn't someone that these guys knew or cared about. I was a piece of meat, a mobile vagina good only for filling with their sperm and nothing more.

Blondie pulled on my ankles and stretched me out as he kept them spread between three and four feet apart. Darkie crawled up on top of me and settled down between my legs, grinding in on my belly and hips, wiggling himself a little to get comfortable on me. His face was about a foot above me and he was looking into my eyes as he made his first thrust. He knew what he was doing, and his erection rammed into me with the force of truck. Somehow I kept my mouth shut; I figured that the less noise I made for them, the more it'd piss them off. His cock didn't go all the way into me then, so he pulled out and slammed it into me again. This time I felt his nutsack slap up against the crack of my ass. He was dry fucking me and it hurt like hell until my juices starting flowing a little. But I think that was what he wanted to do; make me hurt while he had total control of me. I tried to ignore him, but it was almost impossible the way he kept slamming it into me.

Eventually he got a rhythm going and I was able to turn my head away from him so that he couldn't see the pain in my eyes. I closed my eyes and pretended that it was Hector above me and inside me. Then the bastard put his head down and bit me hard on the neck. I screamed behind my gag, but I know that it wouldn't bring me any help this time. I was on my own.

He kept pistoning into me for about 10 minutes, slowing every now and then to catch his breath. Did I mention that his breath stunk? Blondie always kept me stretched out and helpless, laughing at me and making crude remarks. It was the usual litany; cunt, whore, slut, bitch. I was wrong, I don't think the guy had ever finished high school, let alone got to college.

Finally Darkie blew his load inside me. I could tell because he speeded his motion up before he finally groaned and collapsed on top of me. Also, it felt like he'd just put a tiny sun of incandescent heat in my womb with his semen. Darkie laid there for a minute or two and then climbed off of me and traded places with Blondie.

Blondie said he didn't care who Darkie was, he wasn't going there after him. So the two of them flipped me over onto my stomach and Darkie was the one to stretch me out and spread my legs apart for Blondie. When Darkie saw my ass, he said he'd made a mistake that he wouldn't make again.

I started struggling this time. It wasn't like when Little Man had tried to fuck me in the ass. Blondie was hauling some serious artillery and he could fuck me up big time if he wasn't careful. And somehow, I didn't think he was in a mood to be cautious.

He saw my hands that had been cuffed behind my back and the first thing he did was put my socks over my hands so that I couldn't get at him when he lay on top of me. I was scared, frustrated and angry as hell all at the same time.

First he reached down and rubbed his fingers in my pussy. After getting Darkies cum on them, he rubbed it all over his cock for lubricant, I guess. His cock. His cock was about 8 inches long and way too thick. He was big; bigger than I'd ever had before and he wanted my asshole, not my pussy. He lay down on top of me and reached down and parted my buttocks. I struggled, trying to make it as hard as I could for him. He mumbled something to Darkie and they both laughed, then he drove his cock into me, deep into my asshole and began doing things to my lower intestines that were illegal.

I couldn't help myself. The big, tough female PI that could kill you with a glance cried out like a baby when his fucking huge erection started sliding into her. He played with me for a couple of minutes, giving me nothing but short strokes and then stopping for a moment while he was inside me. I screamed and I cried. It was no use. He hurt me even when he just buried himself inside me and stopped all of his hip action. All the while he controlled me with his cock. On his first full penetration of my rectum, I couldn't help myself as I arched up and my body went into a bow beneath him. My anus wasn't meant to be used like this. My anal sphincters were stretched by him in ways that were abnormal to the human body, and the arch was all my body could do to try to escape his onslaught. And it was all automatic, without any conscious effort of mine. My body was in full self defense mode.

But it did no good since he was in full control of the only entrance to my body that he really desired. He didn't care if my anal muscles were tight or not. He didn't care if he ripped me apart or not. He just thrust and he thrust; at the end, each and every one of his pile driver slams was matched by a scream from behind my gag. He would change angles with some thrusts and lift differently with his hips; and each time he did this, it felt like he was ripping me apart all over again.

Finally, after an eternity, he came inside my ass and I could feel each and every spurt of his semen as it jetted into me. It cut and it burned, and it was filling me even as he withdrew. I was shamed by my helplessness and angry at the same time. I knew that he had better wind up killing me, because if he didn't I would kill him for what he had just done to me.

The two college boys stood over me laughing. They were already dead and just didn't know it. They made the typical stupid male comments about my body and after Blondie took my socks off of my hands, they both left after locking the transparent cell door behind them. My neck was still tied to the bed by my belt, but the rest of me was splayed out on the bed in an ugly fashion. In a minute, the lights went out in my cell and I was left in the dark.

I've got a shitty job and my sense of humor's all that's allowed me to survive some terrible things. But I really didn't feel like making any wisecracks right now. The big tough private dick cried her self to sleep that night. And the worst part was that I wasn't alone. The whole night long I heard other helpless souls crying with me.

I was awake early next morning before the lights came on and I felt more like my old self. I was waiting when they came for me. It hurt my ass to move around, but I did it anyway. It was the book end twins, Blondie and Darkie; they unlocked the door to my cell and walked in. They looked at me with my back to the head of the bed and my legs cocked to kick at them, and Blondie said, “Listen, you stupid bitch. You're already gonna' get fucked up today and everything you do now just make's it harder on you.”

When I didn't pull my legs down, he and Darkie leapt at me and smothered me again. Man, I was oh for two now; I wasn't doing too well against these bastards so far. They untied the belt from around my neck and stood me up. I tried to snap-kick Blondie's knee, but he went with the kick and dodged me. Darkie popped me in the gut and I sagged in their arms. With one guy on each arm, they dragged me out of the cell and into the hallway. From there, we made a left and walked about halfway down before turning right to go into a common area between the two long corridors. Blondie had torn me up some on my insides last night; it hurt me even to have to walk that little distance.

When we got to the common area, Darkie turned and punched me in the gut again. When I doubled over, he and Blondie uncuffed my wrists from behind my back and then cuffed them again in front of me. Every four feet or so along the wall there was a rope hanging from a pulley in the ceiling; men and women were hanging from the walls all up and down the common area.

They pushed me up against an open space on the wall, attached a rope to my cuffs and pulled my wrists over my head, extending my arms until I was on my toes. With the gag still in my mouth, I was well and truly fucked and not in the way that I had planned.

They left me hanging that way for quite awhile as the commons area got busier and busier. I had a chance to look around and saw that perhaps less than half of the available slots were filled by hanging bodies. There were only two others that had gags like mine; all of the rest had their mouths free. There were more women than men hanging on the walls, but males of all ages were well represented. Both the men and women seemed to be in uniformly good to excellent shape, and all seemed attractive.

All of the captives and some of the people walking around free were wearing much the same garb. The men hanging on the walls all had on small thong-like loincloths just like my friends, the twins, were wearing; the women all had on something that looked like a modified chemise made out of latex or rubber and which was skin tight. It was cut very high on the sides and narrowed to a thin strap as it went between the women's legs, almost like a thong. It had a halter top, but it was open where the cups would normally go. Instead, it had a shelf-like affair that the women's breasts rested upon, and they were pushed up and out while resting on this thing. Frankly, it looked uncomfortable as hell.

There seemed to be four basic colors distributed among the men and the women. Most of the captives wore light blue with red being the next most popular color, but there were also some wearing white and few with black.

There was surprisingly little noise in the commons, since the only ones talking were the ones moving around. There's a total of maybe fifteen of these people, with ten wearing normal street attire, while the rest were wearing a black loincloth or black chemise, depending upon their sex. Apparently, it was too early for the normal background of grunts, groans, moans and screams---okay, okay, I was making that last part up since I have no idea what of what a normal day here was like.

Oh my. At that moment, Little Man marched into the common area and steamed in my direction. He had a rolling kind of walk that reminded you of a penguin, and with his long black hair and walk, he looked like a pirate's flunky---or perhaps the assistant to a pirate's flunky.

Anyway, he immediately walked up to me. Rather he walked over to me, since he wasn't able to come up to me without his stepstool. I'll be damned if he didn't snap his fingers and one of the black loincloth boys brought over a stool. He sat down on it and looked at me intensely for a couple of minutes without saying a word. I gargled a cooing hello in his direction, but he didn't bite. So we looked at each other without conversing. If you've been on a blind date where you have nothing to say to the other person, you know how uncomfortable it can be. But what the hell, he's an asshole and I didn't let it get to me.

Finally, he said to the twins, “Take off her gag.” His voice was odd; it sounded like what you might get if you were listening to a tow truck driver who'd just ingested a side of helium.

They approached me cautiously and when I didn't react to them they unbuckled the gag and took it out of my mouth. I opened and closed my jaws a couple of times trying to get the kinks out. Things were looking up.

Then he said, “Jaynie Laynie; stupid name. We know all about you. You're almost 30. Single, live alone and are rather unsocial.” That last one really hurt me, it was so unfair. I was unlucky, not unsocial.

He continued, “You're a third degree black belt in Taekwando karate; hold another third degree belt in judo and do a little Aikido on the side. You're a rather dangerous bitch.” Okay, now he had me interested. The first stuff could've been grabbed off've my driver license and other stuff I had in my pants pocket when he cold cocked me the first time. But the last was a little personal. How the fuck would he know that kind of crap?”

“What the fuck kind of scam are you running here?” I asked. Here I'm standing naked in front of this guy all tied up to a wall. His pigeons had raped and sodomized me last night, and all I could think of doing was asking a really stupid question---I needed some coffee.

He snorted and said, “You'll be finding out soon enough, but I can guess I can give you the ten cent tour. What we do here is take your average good looking person off the street and give ‘em a little training. Then we move ‘em out to one of the clubs that we've got around the country and sell their ass. They get a little, shall we say, more advanced training there in the clubs. We've got low overhead, demand's good and you'd be amazed at how many cunts and assholes we move through here in a year. And nobody's the wiser.”

I looked around and saw some disturbing stuff. One of the women in black was about 30 feet away from me and was whipping the shit out of a young guy in light blue. She looked to be about 25 or so, had medium length brown hair and was actually quite pretty. There was a look of concentration on her face that was more suitable to a surgeon making a heart transplant or a lawyer presenting to the Supreme Court. The black outfit seemed to suit her, but she had some high heeled boots on that I wouldn't be seen wearing to a Halloween party. She was sweating and it seemed her nipples stood out about an inch. I couldn't tell if it was from the exertion or because she was enjoying herself. The poor schmuck she was beating looked to be about 16-18 years old, and was quite attractive in a blonde, almost ethereal sort of way. Looked like a nice kid with a nice build; he wasn't my type.

She had him tied face down to a small bench and was using something that looked like it was out of the dark ages on his lower back, ass and the back of his thighs. As best I could tell, it had a wooden handle to which about 10-12 chains had been attached. The links were about half an inch in width and the chains were about 14-15 inches long. Anyway, she was flailing away on this poor bastard and he was crying, but not in pain. He was bleeding a little from the whipping, but wasn't gagged and he was thanking her all the time she was going postal on his ass. Every now and then he'd roll over onto his side and I could see that he had the start of a good erection. Tre strange. The whole scene looked like a devil was beating the shit out of an angel.

Over on the other side, I saw a blonde couple fucking their brains out. She too was wearing one of those black things and she was on top of him. She'd apparently pulled the little strip of black that ran between her legs out of the way and went down on him on a small couch that was pushed up against one wall. She'd grabbed a couple handfuls of his hair and was riding his hips, pumping up and down on him like a wild woman. Her nipples were hugely erect and every move she made would make her breasts bob and weave like a professional boxer. She wasn't looking at him, but faced the wall with her eyes closed. She had a small smile and a look of sublime pleasure on her face.

While I couldn't see what color he might have been wearing, she seemed to be in control and was doing all of the directing. But his cock seemed to be getting everything it wanted and he too seemed to be happy as he ran his hands up and down the front of her body.

It was only after I'd looked at them for a minute that I realized that both of them had very similar coloring. Each had a distinctive color of blonde hair and an olive complexion. And the closer I looked, the more similar their features looked to me……

I looked at Little Man and he shrugged, “They're a brother and sister that come from a wealthy family up in the northeast. We took them off of a sailboat about a month ago and their parents think that they drowned. We'll offer them as a matched set and should be able to get a good profit out of them.”

H e looked at me for a minute. “You don't get it yet, what we really do here, do you?” he asked.

I”I think all of you're sick maniacs,” I replied.

Little Man didn't seem to take offense. “What we do here is begin initial training for Dom's and Sub's. For you, that's short for dominants and submissives. We take prospective material off the street and after appropriate analyses, we either move them into one or the other of the schools that we run here. Beginner sub's wear light blue, advanced sub's red. The beginner dom's wear white and the advanced wear black. You've probably noticed that we're rather organized here.”

“Whaddaya mean, appropriate analyses,” I interrupted him. And he still didn't seem to take offense.

“Oh, fucking them; fucking them over, that sort of thing. It tells us how strong they are and what they're like and then we put them in training and take it from there.”

“You are one short, sick mother fucker, you know that?” I replied. This probably wasn't the smartest tack for me to take, but I was starting to get pissed all over again. If the truth were to be known, I was a little scared too. I guess for a while there, they'd gotten ahead of me on points, but now I was coming back like the old Jaynie. At least I hoped I was.

He looked at me for a second and smiled, “You won't make me angry, you know. We've talked to a couple of people that know you.”

This interested me---a lot.

“And I think that we have just the right program for you. Although you're almost 30 and a little long in the tooth for what we normally supply, an objective observer,” here he pointed to his chest, “would have to say that you're still a totally fucking hot number.”

“You clearly have settled into your persona and have an aggressive personality, so I think it will be appropriate to make you a sub. Shave off all of your hair, run a lot of rings into you, maybe pull a couple of teeth—you know, whips and chains and gags, that sort of thing. I think that within a month or two, we could have you begging for anything that we wanted. What do you think?”

I looked at him and then spit at him. Of course, the grand gesture went for naught as my glob didn't even make it half way to him. The problem was that I still needed some coffee to wet my whistle.

He looked at me with a smile on his face and then turned to the Bobsey twins. “We need to make sure that she won't hurt anyone anymore. Go ahead. You know what we talked about.” With that, he turned and walked away like he was done with me. The insignificant little piece of shit!

Riff and Raff walked over to me and grabbed my arms again. I proved to myself again that when you're hung up by your wrists onto your toes, ya' just can't really get any leverage for kicks. They let me down and dragged me over to a corner of the commons that was painted shiny white, kind of reminding me of a hospital.

Pulling me over to a chair that looked like it belonged to the gynecologist from hell, they threw me up on it and tied my hands to the chair over my head. After they strapped my feet into the stirrups, they then ran straps over my chest, stomach and thighs; I was what you might call, err, immobilized. I thrashed around a little just to show good form, but I knew immediately that it would do no good. There were a couple of other guys I'd never seen waiting for me to be strapped in. When I was, they stepped up and put another gag in my mouth. I didn't like the way this was going.

Both of them stepped down to the bottom of the chair and checked out my feet. They swabbed an orange antiseptic over the soles of my feet and then pulled out scalpels and began making deep slits on the soles of my feet. The pain was indescribable. I screamed into my gag and thrashed all over for real this time, but it didn't stop them. After they'd made three cuts each on the balls of my feet, they made one on each on the bottom of my heels. Then they pulled out a sterile pack of what looked like small ball bearings. Taking a ball bearing, they proceeded to push it into the cut that they'd made, then used needle and thread to sew each incision shut. They did this to the four cuts on each of my feet. After this, they applied some antiseptic gel and wrapped surgical tape around the balls of my feet and around each heel. I was huffing for breath through my gag and didn't have a wisecrack in mind at the moment.

Next, they came up to my chest and applied something cold which I assume was an antiseptic. But all it did was make my nipples stand up. I couldn't believe it! I'd just undergone major surgery on my feet and here my nipples were staring me in the face like, like, I don't know what. But I still couldn't believe it!

I had one of these guys on each side of me now, and each one reached down and grabbed my breast closest to him and pulled it up using the nipple as a handle. I was proud of myself for just groaning instead of screaming. Each guy had a long needle and they used it to vertically pierce my breast about an inch back from the nipple. Next, they ran a 1 1/2” diameter golden ring through each hole in my breast and used surgical pliers to close the ends together. Needless to say, I wasn't taking this laying down—actually, on second thought, that's exactly what I was doing. But it still hurt like a sonofabitch!

Finally, the same two guys turned and began to address my head. More specifically, my face. The guy on the left grabbed my lower lip and pulled it out as far as he could. The other guy used a new needle and pierced my lower lip just above the gum line and right where my upper and lower lips meet on the right side. Then they proceeded to do the same thing on the left side of my lower lip. Finally, the bastards threaded another set of golden rings through the two holes in my lower lip and then they stepped away.

Flip and Flop now unstrapped me from the chair and lifted me out of it, setting me on the floor. I screamed with pain as the ball bearings ground into the bottoms of my feet. I couldn't stand up straight on my feet, but rather had to try to stand on the sides of them. My hands were still handcuffed, but I blindly used them and held onto the chair for balance as tears flooded my eyes. It felt like I was standing on rolls of barbed wire, piles of broken glass, mountains of razor blades. You get the idea, it really hurt.

Darkie and Blondie stood by my side for a second as I screamed into my gag and then one of them hit me in the gut. I never did know who'd hit me. Anyway, I'm bent over with my bound hands trying to comfort my abdomen and still stay off my feet, when they both start fumbling with my breasts. I can't see them and I can't stand on my own—I'm fucked.

I sort of feel/see them attach what turns out to be a thin but strong golden chain to each of my nipple rings and then run it up to my lip rings. When I finally felt like I was going to live, I tried to stand up straight, but I can't. The bastards had used short chains to connect my lip and nipple rings; when I tried to raise my head up, it tore at my breasts and my lips. The chains were just the right length to force me to keep my chin on my chest, and all I could do was look up over my eyebrows if I wanted to see where I was being going.

They'd finally succeeded in rendering me harmless. I couldn't stand on my feet, so all those years of training and sweat had just been taken away from me. I couldn't raise my head off of my chest without tearing out great chunks of my flesh, so I couldn't use my hands or elbows on them. Beside, they still had me handcuffed. I was well and truly fucked. Again.

The two young men led me over to one of the nearby tables in the commons area. Even though they had not been walking fast, I couldn't keep up with them because me feet hurt me so bad. I was barefoot, but each step felt like I was walking on razor sharp pebbles and rocks. I was immensely thankful when they finally allowed me to sit down. Laughing at my obvious pain, Darkie called to one of the nearby subs and told her to get me something to eat. Then he reached over and leisurely took off my gag.

The young girl returned in a moment with a bowl of some kind of gruel. The bowl was made out of compressed cardboard and there were no implements. I took me over five minutes to finish the small bowl because I couldn't raise my head. I finally solved my hunger by turning my head sort of sideways and draining the slop into my mouth. Of course, my discomfort cracked up my escorts and they started in with their juvenile comments again.

After I had finally “eaten”, in an insane act of clarity Darkie and Blondie described for me in glowing terms what my future held. There was a schedule that all here obeyed, even them. While most of the slaves were locked into their cells at night, a sort of dom trusteeship that a few enjoyed had evolved over time. Darkie and Blondie had been brought here over a year ago and had been in one of the first groups of doms to finish their training. Rather than being pumped through the pipeline, a few truly “exceptional” students were allowed to remain here and help train others that would come through after them. These special few stayed in their cells, but were allowed much more freedom than the rest of us by not being locked in at night. I guess, in this way the head of the Collectors thought that they could reduce the number of people outside the organization that knew anything about it their processing center.

Everyone was fed in their cell early in the morning. After cleaning themselves, the slaves were then brought out by the trustees into the commons area. There they would be strung up against the wall until either a dom or an actual member of the organization was ready to begin their instruction for the day. Newly acquired flesh often fought at this point and only the most brutal of the staff were used here.

Training was strict and for both subs and doms generally involved getting their bodies used to physical punishments of various types. The trustees and the Collectors could use any sub in any way they wanted—a lot of sex was involved here. It was just understood that the subs were there to be humiliated and broken. More specific training would be provided later by the satellite organizations that existed all over the country; all the Collectors promised was an unending supply of fresh young flesh that could be shaped into whatever that owner might desire. Ford would have been proud; it was a factory line producing humiliation and subjugation at bargain basement prices.

The slaves were fed once in the morning and once again at the end of the day. Not a lot of thought or effort had gone into making the flesh comfortable; economy and pragmatism was the order of the day.

Darkie and Blondie seemed to be my own special envoys from hell; they told me that I had been designated as their sole project for my entire time in their pens. I've blocked out a lot of what happened those first couple days. I guess it wasn't any better or worse than the other subs around me were getting; but it was so fucking PERSONAL to those two assholes. They'd made it clear that it was their goal in life to ensure that I had no life beyond them and the organization. And they enjoyed their work. A lot.

They handed me my light blue whatever it was and made me put it on. It was a humiliating thing to wear. The strap running between my legs was tight in the crotch, buried between my vaginal lips and then buried again in the cheeks of my ass as it rose in the back. My breasts were hanging out for all to see; my chin on my chest and the taut chains running from my breasts to my lip only emphasizing my helplessness. Every breath I took was a reminder of where I was and what I was.

They carried and dragged me over to the wall again and strung me up just high enough so that I was bouncing on my toes and the ball bearings were cutting into the pads of my feet. They hit me a lot and used some whips that didn't cause major injury to me. It went on and on, a blur of pain and the waiting for pain.

Finally, they were done for the day. They dragged me back to my cell and threw me in it after they'd taken off the handcuffs. Blondie stayed behind for a second and told me to be ready tonight. He wanted some fun and I was going to provide it for him. I looked at him for a second and turned my head to the wall. Then he left after making sure he'd locked the door. My mind was a blank. I think I wanted to die.

In about an hour, a sub came by and slid another cardboard bowl of gruel into my cell using a slot in the wall by the floor that I hadn't notice before. I wasn't hungry and left it untouched.

The lights go out around 10 at night in the slave pens and Blondie wasn't far behind. He came in, making sure the door locked behind him. I was lying on my back on the bed and he walked up, telling me to lose the outfit. I had thought about it and knew what I had to do.

I slowly and painfully got to my feet and began removing my latex garment. I was sitting on the edge of the bed by then, and when I was finally naked he pushed on my shoulders forcing me onto my back on the mattress.

Blondie was a brutal lover and he used me hard. I was lying on my back and I had willingly spread my legs for him. He crawled up on me and then centered himself between my thighs. My chin was still pulled down on my chest, so my only choices were either looking over his left shoulder at the dark ceiling or at his neck or ear. He pulled my hands over my head and then slid his hands under my biceps before grabbing my wrists again, keeping my hands immobilized that way.

He raised himself slightly off of me and then looking into my eyes, he thrust into me. Both he and Darkie were big on looking into a girl's eyes when they raped her; maybe they felt it gave them additional power. I'm not greatly experienced with men, but all I know is that Blondie was bigger than any man I'd ever had buried inside me before.

Blondie's first thrust split apart the dry lips of my vagina and allowed him to bury about half his length in me. He pulled out and drove into me again and achieved his desire, full penetration of me, his current slave. I felt my love juices begin to flow with his first move inside me, but I wasn't fully lubricated for another four or five strokes of his hips. He filled my pussy without any seeming effort on his part. He just assumed that I would be his vessel and take whatever he happened to give me. And I knew that that was all that he wanted, a vessel for his seed.

Even though not responding to them physically, I was exquisitely aware of every sensation, perhaps because mind was so detached from my body. I could feel on the inside of my vagina the throb of every vein on his penis. I could feel at the tip of my cervix the ridges of his circumcised manhood. Heat radiated away from him and into me between my legs.

Our bellies were soon slick with sweat. He from his exertions, and me from feeling his heat over the top of me. As we became slicker, he would slide himself up and down my belly with each thrust, pulling himself into me with his hands and elbows rather than his hips, and pushing himself out of me using the same.

We must have laid there for 15 minutes, him and me. I was always under his complete control. When he told me to close my legs, I would. When I was to raise my hips and thrust my belly into his, I did. When told I was to wrap my legs around him, I obeyed. I was his puppet and he pulled every string in me and on me. In the end, with a small groan of satisfaction, he spilled his semen into the deepest part of my loins. I felt him begin cumming and then it seemed that a small heat grenade had exploded inside of me, deeper than any man, including Hector, had ever been before.

A feeling of disgust quickly overcame me and I could hardly wait for Blondie to get off of me. However, he took his time and I now think that this too was part of his torture. In the end, he did roll off of my body and sit on the edge of my bed. He was silent for a minute and then reached over and patted me on my stomach, telling me I was “a good piece of ass” even if I was 30 years old. I turned my face to the wall and ignored him. After assuring me he would be back tomorrow evening, he unlocked the cell door and departed. I didn't get to sleep for hours.

I was awakened by my meal of mush being slid into my cell. After eating and taking a whore's bath, I somehow hobbled around and slipped on the hated symbol of my slavehood; that damned rubber thingie. Within minutes, Darkie came by and took me out of the cell and to the commons area. My feet hurt something awful today, even worse than they had yesterday. So even though he dragged me a lot, our trip was long and I needed several breaks before we finally arrived.

I was tied up as before and my training started all over again. I refused to respond to most of the stimuli applied to my stomach, back, ass and thighs and this seemed to piss the two dear boys off mightily. At around noon , Darkie told me that I had a treat waiting for me in my cell and that he was taking me back there immediately.

After the long, tortuous journey back, I arrived at my cell. The door was open and I hobbled in. Baughman was waiting there for me in the darkness! I couldn't believe my eyes. He had a small smile on his fat jowled face and actually laughed as Darkie ushered me into my cell. He thanked Darkie and told him to wait outside unless further needed.

He looked at me and said, “Who'd believe that you were here under these circumstances? Who? No one, that's who.”

I didn't answer him, but looked at him as best I could. I sat on my bed with my hands on the edge of my bed. My chin was moist from small rivulets of saliva that were draining out of the holes in my lower lip. Once they'd pierced me, they didn't have to worry too much about gags anymore. He couldn't take his eyes off of my chained breasts and when he finally did, his gaze kept going up and down my body, lingering on my exposed crotch.

As calmly as I could, I asked, “What are you doing here”:

He laughed, “I've known about this group for a couple of years now. It's too bad they grabbed you, these are some seriously bad people.”

“Can you help me?” I whispered.

“No, helping you is beyond my abilities. Actually,” he said, “I'm here for quite a different reason.”

“Would you please come in here,” he asked Darkie. Apparently Blondie had come up and was waiting too, because both of them walked in at his request.

“Strip her outfit off and hold her down for me. I think I'd like a taste of this bitch before she's gone for good.”

Although I had known that something was wrong when I first saw Baughman waiting for me, it still a shock to hear him say that and it washed over my spine like a bucket of cold water. I tried to fight them, but they were all over me. With my feet messed up and the way I'd been chained, I couldn't put up much of a fight and the rubber chemise was quickly removed. I was panting with my exertions and had some blood running down the bottom of both my breasts where I had extended my head too far and torn flesh. But they had me flat on my back with Darkie holding my handcuffed wrists and Blondie holding both of my ankles. Blondie spread my ankles and held them far apart despite my best efforts; in anguish I looked over and saw that fat sonofabitch Baughman taking off his pants.

I was totally disgusted by what I saw. His fish white stomach was bloated and hung obscenely over his groin. His legs were thin, white and hairless. His breasts hung down and looked like they might have held a quart of milk each before being deflated. He had a giant smile on his jowly face and his forehead and balding scalp was covered with sweat. I guess I turned him on?

I struggled and screamed as he climbed onto the bed, grunting with exertion. But my two dom's held me spread-eagled and open for him. When he lay down on top of me, I thought a whale had just been dropped on my chest. My face was forced into his shoulder and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe; all I could smell was his musk. A strong, sour smell that made me want to vomit. This was physically the closest that he and I had ever been. I now saw that he had a bad case of dandruff and could see and feel the flakes softly dropping on me as I struggled beneath his immense weight. It was impossible. It was grotesque. It couldn't be happening, but it was.

His gross stomach made it difficult for him to penetrate me, but he finally succeeded. He was of average size and did not go deeply into me, but I still felt him none the less. He panted and he sweated, finally cumming shortly after he'd started on me. His strokes into me had been short and feeble. He couldn't keep his hips moving because he couldn't catch his breath due to his exertions.

When he finally did cum in me, it felt like he had injected a cold and weak and slimy fluid. There was little that was good in this bad man.

When he was finally finished with me, he climbed off and started dressing again. I screamed at him, “Was that the best you could, you hypocritical bastard?” He ignored me, so I tried again. “I've been fucked by women better than you, you fucking piece of old, over-weight shit!” I was trying to hurt him like he'd hurt me and humiliate him in the process.

Baughman finished dressing and then turned to me and said, “You know, my dear. When they ran Hector through here last year, I fucked him too. Actually, he was better fuck than you are. At least he wiggled his ass when I took him and he asked me for seconds. which I was pleased to provide. Oh, I forgot, you seemed to care for him. My mistake.” Then he giggled—the bastard giggled!

I looked at Baughman with my head still down but with my mouth open and then I went berserk. It was all that Darkie and Blondie could do to hold me down on the bed as I screamed at that fat bastard, “I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!” I guess I wasn't at my conversationalist best right then. And he had turned out to be better at repartee than I was.

The pig finally left my cell and Darkie said, “I'm going to let go now, and if you fight us, we'll fuck you up good. Understand?”

I nodded and both of them let go of me at the same time and stepped back. When I didn't do anything more, Blondie brusquely told me to get cleaned up and to put my one-piece back on. I got up and slowly walked over to the sink where I washed the unclean remnants of Baughman from my vagina and the insides of my thighs. It was difficult to do this satisfactorily since my wrists were still handcuffed together—I'd of used a steam cleaner on myself if one had been available. Then I picked up my one piece of clothing and slowly put it back on again. I felt dead inside as my two boy's frog marched me back to the commons.

I was hung on the wall again for another hour or two. I honestly can't say for how long because I was in a daze. Finally, another dom, one that I had never seen before came over and let me down and led me over to a bench. He tied me face down over this thing and then tied my hands to my ankles under the table. I was left there for a minute until he returned with a new whip and a cane. I'd been whipped and caned from the moment I'd been taken and my ass and thighs were red and welted, beaten and sore.

But my new master didn't shirk his duties and beat me enthusiastically for over 30 minutes. He, like Little man, was an exquisite master of timing on the strokes and he hurt me mentally as well as physically.

Finally, he was done and he untied my limbs from under the table. I rolled off of the table onto the floor in pain and unable to control my limbs. He roughly jerked me up by my hair and stored me on the wall again, where I waited for my usual two dom's.

Blondie eventually came up to me and released me from the wall, at which point he took me back to my cell. As he threw me on my bed, he reminded me that I would again be the unwelcome recipient of another visit by him tonight. He then left after ensuring that I was locked into my cell.

I lay on my bed and thought about what had happened to me over the last couple of days. Then I glanced at the small sliver of glass that I had picked up in the commons when I'd rolled off of the table onto the floor. Apparently there had been something made out of glass in there at one time and it had gotten broken. Thankfully, someone had done a sloppy job of cleaning up afterwards because now I had a hope.

Food was slipped into my cell that night but I didn't eat. I waited to see what would happen. Right at lights out, Darkie unlocked my cell door and walked in. He said, “Cunt, you are apparently a hot piece of ass and I'm gonna have some right now.”

I didn't say any thing but just sat up and looked at him from under my eyebrows. When he walked over and stood next to my bed, I stood up next to him. I then pointed to the door and said, “you're gonna have to take your turn, because he's waiting and he goes first.”

When he looked at the door, I moved behind him and put my right forearm around his throat and pulled his head back against my right shoulder. I gave him a hard shot in the left kidney as I threw my body back and off of my feet. This forced him to fall onto his back and me onto my stomach. With only a little leverage from my shoulder, I broke his neck against my right forearm. The sound the bones in his neck made as they snapped was like music to my ears.

We both lay on the floor for a second. Me immobile, his legs twitching a little. Then I got up and slowly dragged him under my bed. He'd defecated and the smell was strong, but I hoped that Blondie wouldn't notice.

I probably could have gotten out of there at that point. I had Darkie's keys and there were few people around. But I still couldn't walk well and I needed to meet Blondie one more time.

I took the small sliver of glass and sat down on my bed. Unwrapping the medical tape from the ball of my left foot, I looked at the obscene lumps that had been implanted there. Using the piece of glass, I cut each set of sutures and took out the ball bearings. I then did the same for my heel before I re-wrapped the tape. I slowly did the same for my right foot.

I stood in the darkness of my cell and looked at myself in the metal mirror. I knew this would hurt a lot, but there was one more thing that I had to do. And I had to watch myself do it. After hyper ventilating for a minute, I grabbed the two chains that came up from my tits and began to pull them down. At the same time, I began raising my head up from my chin.

The flesh of my lower lip began to stretch beyond belief before the rings finally began to tear their way up towards my lips. I couldn't see well at this point because my eyes were flooded with tears, but I continued pulling and lifting until only the flesh of my lips held the rings in place. My blood was warm as it ran down my chin and onto my throat before it passed between my breasts. It was too painful, but I couldn't stop now.

Fumbling with my hands, I found the now dulled sliver of glass and used it to make the final cut that freed first the left ring and then the right ring. I was crying in pain and felt nauseous. With the fingers of one hand, I held up the flap that had been part of my lip and with my other hand I reached over and picked up the only towel allowed me. After wadding it up, I put the towel against the wall and leaned the lower part of my face into it. I allowed my weight to put pressure on my wounds as my arms hung limply by my sides.

My heart finally slowed down after a couple of minutes, and I walked back to my bed holding the towel to my face. I sat down and using one hand, took off the surgical tape that was wrapped around the ball of my right foot and used it to temporarily patch my mouth back up. My mouth was fucked up and my feet were fucked up, but I was back in business. Watch your asses, mother fuckers!

When Blondie showed up in my cell half an hour later, I was standing in the darkest part of my cell with my back towards him. He hesitated at this, but then came in all the way and locked the door behind him. He sniffed, but didn't seem to pick up on the meaning of the smell that to me seemed overpowering and screamed danger, danger!

He walked towards me and from the back put his right hand on my right shoulder in a possessive way. I reached up with my left hand and grabbed his right as it came over my shoulder. I twisted his hand away from me and the torque on his wrist and elbow forced him down towards the ground. I twisted around and was behind him with my arm around his neck before he even knew what had happened.

I have worked out with Judo for many years. As it generally taught in the States, Judo is a non-lethal sport. However, there are many dangerous joint and leverage moves that are not now passed on in modern dojos. Some of these moves are lethal. Back when Hector and I'd had some money, I had made it a hobby to search used bookstores looking for obscure old books which showed these moves.

With one move, I broke Blondie's neck. But I didn't complete the move that would have killed him. Instead, I carefully lowered him to the floor. He looked at me with horror in his eyes, but he was paralyzed. He could breathe and move his eyes, but that was it.

I stared at him for a moment and then carefully removed his loincloth. I arranged his manhood and then deliberately, I stepped on his left nut and crushed it. Then I pivoted on my heel on it like I was putting out a cigarette butt. I could see from his eyes that he could feel the pain. It rocketed around the inside of his body and had nowhere to go but his eyes.

“That was for the first time you took me.” My diction left something to be desired due to the tape holding my mouth together, but he got my meaning.

I reached down and moved his right testicle out so that it was clear and I looked down at him as I said, “This one is for last night.” I waited almost a minute before I crushed that one. His eyes were bulging, but he still laid there in an almost peaceful pose.

Then I squatted down between his knees and said, “And this is for the untold number of women and men that you've ruined.” I took the sliver of glass and began sawing his penis off at the base. Even though dull, it didn't take long.

After this, I was ready to leave. I used Blondie's keys and unlocked my cell door and looked out into the hall. No one was there so I walked on out to the first exit. From there I went to the door that led to the outside and I was free. I staggered the two blocks back to my Bronco and got out the extra key that I always kept hidden underneath in a magnetic box. The Bronco was just as I had left it. It was such a piece of junk that no one wanted it.

I drove to a small precinct station where I knew a couple of the beat cops and walked in almost naked. All I had on was a small lap blanket that I kept in the back of the Bronco. I began talking to the desk bull, but passed out before I could finish. Apparently I was able to give good enough directions however, because the police raided the pens around 4 AM that morning.

Epilogue

It was over. Nietzsche once said that man is a rope stretched between the animal and the superman—a rope stretched over an abyss. I'd fallen into the abyss and had somehow been able to climb out again.

It seems that the Collectors Organization's trade in human beings had been pretty profitable; they were in the process of building a second set of slave pens when the warehouse caught on fire from the electrical work. It was those slave pens they were trying to cover up with the help of Baughman. Baughman had always hated me, yet apparently wanted me even before he helped make Hector disappear. He'd set me up from the beginning to be taken in by the Collectors.

The Feds moved in and hushed everything up. Baughman was up north in a Federal Penitentiary now. He'd been convicted of being involved with multiple counts of kidnapping and taking the victims across state lines. I called a couple of guards I knew and told them about Baughman. He was now called Jabba the Slut and was the bitch of the whole prison. He was also HIV+ now and I didn't give a damn.

The District Attorney didn't know what to do with me. At first, he wanted to charge me with multiple murders. But after he'd talked to me and looked at my face, he ruled them self-defense. Zero-One paid me a shit load of money to avoid any lawsuits. Their name never did come out in the investigation, even though Baughman had been an integral part of the Collectors Organization. They're throwing A LOT MORE work my way now and I'm pretty sure that Hector and Laynie will make it.

Once I was up and moving around again, I took a little bit of Zero-One's money and went looking for the old man that I'd mugged that first night. When I finally found him, I dropped a hundred note in his kitty and stepped back to just look at him. He looked at the bill and then at me with confusion. After about a minute or so of us staring back and forth, I could see recognition dawn in his eyes. Then he spit in may face. I guess I didn't blame him.

All of the subs and the novice doms were released. Two of the advanced doms were arrested and are now in prison; the remainder were forced to go into counseling for a year. After they'd been processed and let go, I understand that most of the subs and their doms had gotten together and were still practicing what they'd been taught to enjoy most.

The brother and sister team disappeared and were never heard from again—at least I never heard about them again. There are some sick genes in that family, I don't give a damn how wealthy they were.

There were no records to give us help track down the slaves that had already been processed and moved on through the system. Hector's still out there somewhere and I'll never stop looking for him.

A lot of the local help was arrested, but most of the big guys just disappeared. As soon as I was able, I looked for Little Man for a couple of weeks, but I never did get any more leads on him. But I know he's around and I'll catch up with him sooner or later.

I needed plastic surgery to repair my face. I look as good now as I did before, which is to say pretty damn average. I'd also thought about getting a boob job at the same time, but in the end, I decided to go with what god and nature had given me.

I never was much of a floozy or man hungry woman---one man was always enough for me. But Hector was gone, and I hadn't made love to a man in over a year. Because I hadn't needed protection for a long time, it was no surprise to me that I became pregnant. I had no idea who the father was, but I hoped that it was Blondie and not Baughman. I waited a month and had the fetus aborted. May god forgive me.

I believe in god and I think there's a heaven; I know there's a hell. And I know that's where I'm going. Not because I've killed men, but because of what I did to my baby. But that's okay, because when I get down there, Little Man, Blondie, Darkie and Baughman and all the others will be waiting for me. And then I'll have the rest of eternity to kick Baughman's ass, to kick Blondie's ass, to kick Darkie's ass, to kick Little Man's ass, to kick………….