Passing the Baton

Ch 6

 

“Master” Juggy stands submissively, eyes downcast, dressed in sheer red pantaloons and a small vest, also red, that unsuccessfully tries to hide her breasts.

 

“Hmm” Paul looks up from his paper.

 

“Sir, about the flight tonight. Will you want Lila with you in the cabin?”

 

“No. You are first girl now, you fly in the cabin. Lila can be crated in the hold, the way she came. You know this already.” Paul’s voice shows a slight irritation at having to deal with this detail. Did Sarah choose wrong? He wonders.

 

“Sir, with all due respect, this slave has no clothes; for the cabin, I mean. Lila is the same size as Sarah was; that is why I asked”

 

Paul’s eyes widened as he understands. He knows how uncomfortable for the slaves crating is, especially for such a long flight, it would be astonishing that a slave would rather be crated than fly in the cabin. Juggy’s question however shows her to be intelligent. Her slave clothes would not be appropriate to travel in the cabin, clear customs and immigration and such. Sarah must have forgotten this detail. She can be forgiven this lapse; she did have many other things on her mind.

 

“See if the Sheik can see me”

 

Half an hour later, Paul is escorted to the Sheik’s audience room. This is the central room in his palace. The Sheik sits in a leopard skin divan, surrounded by a few friends, as well as several slave girls. While five of them wear his colors, the others wear different liveries, those of his friends.

 

“My dear friend, what can I do for you?” The Sheik asks.

 

“I need a favor from you”

 

“You need but ask”

 

“My new first girl is to travel back in the jet’s cabin with me. Alas we forgot to bring adequate clothing for her. I need your help. I need to borrow Alysha to escort her to the stores to get some clothes. Is that possible?”

 

The Sheik laughs, a deep throaty laugh. “We will wrap both in burkas and I shall have one of my guards escort them to the stores. As you know, regardless of what we do in my palace, outside these walls, I am a strict Muslim. It wouldn’t do for any females of my household, free or servant, to travel without a male escort”

 

The irony does not escape Paul, but he is suitably grateful. Juggy is back before 11:00 and models her new clothes for him with girlish delight. Alysha chose the clothes for her, of course; she showed remarkably good taste and understanding of what was required.

 

Juggy is wearing a gray flannel skirt that reaches to just above her knee. It is pleated so it flairs nicely when she moves. Her top is a white cotton blouse that will be left open in flight, to show off her boobs, but can be closed at will to show a nice cleavage, or even modestly be closed all the way up. A gray vest complements the ensemble. She also is wearing smoke colored sheer stockings that are held up by a black garter belt. Juggy lifts the skirt playfully to show off her new lingerie. There are no panties or bra, but with this outfit she looks like the slightly top-heavy secretary of some high powered executive.

 

Paul approves of the purchase, and orders her to get Lila ready.

 

“We are going to see Al-Mansour. Fatima will be delivered to the airport already crated. Take these clothes with you in the limo; we might not have time to have you change before we leave. Take care of the luggage too. We will crate Lila at the airport warehouse. Call me when we are ready to leave.”

 

Juggy rushes out, to get everything ready. Paul drinks lemonade on the balcony. He can see the garden where Sarah was snuffed yesterday. Not in vain, he knows. Already the results of her sacrifice are showing. The Sheik would never have given him a pretty little thing like Fatima for free. Paul expected to pay at least $50K for her, maybe more. But now, his standing has increased enormously. Yes. Not many of the moguls would party like he seemed to, while painfully snuffing their favorite slave. It sent a clear message that he was not to be trifled with. Sarah was right.

 

In the Limo, Paul rides in the back seat with Lila, while Juggy sits in the middle seat facing back; both girls dressed in red pantaloons and vests, red being his house livery. The driver and their escort ride in the front, beyond the black glass partition. He did not fail to notice the AK47 the guard carried, nor the unusual thickness of the windows, that gave a green tinge to everything outside. The Sheik takes safety seriously. Politics is a tense game in this part of the world, the players often playing for blood.

 

On the ride up to Al-Mansour’s mountainside mansion Paul realizes he has not had his usual morning blow-job. He nudges Lila who seductively slides to the floor, her red vest somehow flaring to show her pert breasts. On her knees the young blonde takes his hardening prick out with a deft hand, and lovingly starts to lick its length. As it hardens to its full length she takes the bulbous tip into her mouth, and then the whole shaft. She takes her time getting up to speed, extending the experience. Finally when she feels the time is right, she increases her tempo, and pushing herself up on all fours, swallows him up to the hilt. When the early tremors show her he is ready to explode, she surprises him with something new. She pulls back, takes a deep breath, and in one fluid motion, swallows him, way deep. With the tip of his cock deep down her throat, she massages him using her throat muscles, swallowing repeatedly. Her hands are around his butt, holding him in her, while she chokes on his member. She cannot breathe while this is going on, she will not be able to breathe until he is done, so she swallows faster and faster, until finally he explodes down her throat. She still keeps him deep in her however, until his penis starts shrinking a bit and she pulls back exhales and breathes again. Paul’s penis is already clean from all of this, so she replaces it, closes his fly, and demurely sits again besides her master.

 

Al-Mansour lived in a mansion, further inland. His mansion was not as large as the Sheik’s palace, but it was still of a very respectable size. Two armed guards stood at attention when the limo arrived. A third guard, armed only with a pistol, opened their limo door and welcomed Paul to the compound.

 

“Sheik Al-Mansour awaits you in the inner courtyard. Please follow me”

 

Paul had not been at this mansion before. When he was a member of government, Al-Mansour favored a larger palace in town. He must have moved to this (relatively) more modest mansion after retiring. He followed the guard to the courtyard, his two slaves hurrying behind him.

 

Al-Mansour receives them sitting on a stool. He is alone except for a young stunningly beautiful oriental girl standing besides him. Her status is not immediately apparent since she wears a long sleeved Chinese white silk gown, with black cord trimming that modestly covers her from neck to ankles. White silk slippers peek out from under the gown.

 

Paul stands stunned. The girl is the spitting image of Mei Ling; as if time had not passed, Paul flashes back to that fateful day 16 years ago, when Mei Ling was offered in exchange for Sarah.

 

Juggy and Lila, unafraid, kneel beside their master. Although they know the story, they cannot realize the resemblance.

 

“My friend” Al-Mansour starts “May I introduce you to Mei Wei. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

 

Both girls go pale at the mention of the name. History is repeating itself, but they know that their master is not as attached to them as he was to Sarah. Somehow they realize one of them will be staying here.

 

“Oh my God” Juggy thinks “He will trade me for that beauty; I cannot compete with her. I will die here” She bows her head even more.

 

“Shit” thinks Lila “He is definitely taking her home with him. I’m done for.”

 

Silently, well trained, they kept position, kneeling and expressionless.

 

“A beautiful girl indeed Mansour” Paul answers “Is that the motive for this invitation?”

 

“Indeed” His smile, framed by his black beard, a grimace of cruelty. “It is the same as the last time. I offer you Mei Wei. She is Me Ling’s baby sister. I bought her years ago, and have kept her pristine; she has had some training in obedience, but she is unmarked and virginal. She has been in my house for a month. She knows what happened to her sister. She knows that it will also be her fate…if you do not take her with you”

 

“What do you want then?”

 

“I’ll trade her for your first slave, that big breasted girl on your right”

 

Juggy kneels immobile, her training is that good. She cannot help blanching, and her skin is now as pale as a ghost.

 

“Why do you think I care?” Paul is experienced in haggling with Arabs, but being a Westerner, and an American he doesn’t realize that he has already lost the bargain. He should have said he didn’t care before he asked for the prize. Al-Mansour knows this, and his smile tells Paul that he knows.

 

“You cannot have Juggy anyway. She has been trained for my business, and I cannot spare her” Juggy struggles not to let out her breath too explosively.

 

“Your other slave has no breasts. I like bigger breasts on a woman” The sheik retorts.

 

“Even so, it will be Lila or no deal. Not that I want to hurry you, but I’ve got a plane to catch”

 

Lila kneels in position, but cannot control her shaking.

 

“You are stealing from me, you always have, but OK you can have the Chinese girl, I’ll take that skinny runt from you.” When Lila hears this, she cannot control her tears, but manages to cry without breaking position.

 

Mei Wei exhales visibly. At a sign from the Arab she walks demurely towards her new master.

 

Lila and Juggy stand too. Lila struggles to control her tears.

 

“I’m sorry about this” Paul says.

“I understand sir” is her answer.

“Say your good byes to Juggy”

 

Both girls embrace and kiss briefly. Lila then bravely walks towards her new master and kneels besides him facing Paul and his slaves.

 

Paul turns around and heads for the limo, Juggy and Mei Wei following him. They do not look back.

At the airport, in the cavernous hangar that Paul maintains for his company, the pilots are already in the cockpit of the Gulfstream. Two guards have already deposited a crate in the luggage hold. The crate resembles those used to transport large pictures.

 

“Juggy: Mei Wei will have to travel with us in the cabin. I do not have time to properly crate her. After we are airborne, just have her kneel nude in the back and immobilize her. We can have her dress again before arrival”

 

The plane taxies to the runway. In the hold, a slave lies in a crate. She knows not where she is going, or to whom she belongs now. She just knows that sometime that morning, the head slave, Alysha took her to the preparation room. She received several large enemas, until the water ran clear; they also made her drink syrup that made her throw up her breakfast. After she was quite empty inside, she was tied into a rectangular wooden frame. She knew then that she was to be transported, and by the enemas and emetics, she also knew that it would be a long trip. Abroad, actually, since for trips within the country the slaves were never crated in a frame. She tried to ask questions but was denied permission to speak.

 

A tube was placed in her bladder, and then inserted deep into her mouth through a ball gag. That would keep her from making any messes in her crate. A butt plug completed her preparations. Fatima had been transported this way twice before. The first time from East Africa, after her abduction, to some country in the Middle East, she never found out which, and the second time, when she was transported here. In a sense she knew what to expect, and was resigned to it. What she never could face was when the crate was closed around her. First foam padding was placed around her, in the front, and in the back, leaving only her nose free of the padding. Even though she could breathe quite easily, her anxiety at being thus immobilized and enclosed always made her short of breath. After the padding was in, wooden boards completed the creation of the crate. To any customs official the crate contained art work.

 

And indeed it did. A well trained slave girl is a work of art.

 

 

 

The End