BDSM Library - East Coast Slavers Organization

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 01 – The Beginning (or An Awesome Start in Michigan)

This epic tale begins with Aaron Clarke flush with success from his Los Angeles / Philippine adventure. A couple of months prior, he had bumped into an old friend in Los Angeles and an unexpected business opportunity arose from the encounter. Now, just months later, Aaron is in the midst of establishing a center of operations for an international shipping business. His friend, Steve Austin, arranged for Aaron to head an east coast office of his company in Coral Gables, just south of Miami, Florida.

When Aaron and Steve met that night in Los Angeles, Aaron was thirty years old and stuck in a dead-end job working with his soon-to-be ex-father-in-law. Their not so great relationship had become a lot worse as Aaron's ugly divorce proceeded. Aaron now associated his soon-to-be-ex's name, Veronica, with everything wrong with modern womanhood. Don't be misled, Aaron didn't hate the fair sex, he just no longer placed any woman automatically on a pedestal. Aaron and Veronica have no chance of reconciliation. Their divorce will be final in another six months or so.

Since marrying the bitch (Veronica in case anyone could ever forget), he worked with his father-in-law. His job was a combination of sales representative, factory worker, and all around gopher to the domineering old fart. Veronica's dad was a piece of work. His perfect little jewel – Veronica – was born late in his life and an only child. Her mother died soon after her birth in a deadly front-end encounter with a drunk driver one afternoon as she headed to pre-school to pick up her toddler, Veronica.

Ralph Morton had plodded along for years outside Detroit with his labeling and cardboard box business. Through all those years, his primary attention focused on Veronica, the business came second. Aaron later became convinced that Ralph completely fucked them both up. By doting on the brat, she evolved into a useless fixture; a parasite on society. His poor business acumen, coupled with his lack of focus, left his business stagnant for two decades. He provided adequately for his small family, but there was no chance of making any real profits.

Aaron first met Veronica Morton after his return home from his enlistment and back-to-back tours in Bosnia and Serbia. He had been a Marine sniper alongside his best friend, Steve Austin. The assignment had been pure hell, hence his initial depression as he arrived back home to Michigan. No matter what happened in later years, there was no grateful nation to meet Aaron and his fellow marines and soldiers as they drifted home from peacekeeping duties.

At twenty, Veronica was ripe for the picking. They screwed on their first date.

The older of the two by a little over six years, Aaron was long gone when Veronica hit the high-school scene and he never knew the true bitch she had become. He had only been home a few weeks before he kept noticing the beautiful girl as he wandered, somewhat aimlessly, around his hometown suburb, trying to figure out what to do with his life. He finally just approached her and asked her out for a coffee and either a movie or something low-key if they clicked.

She immediately said yes. Veronica was actually flattered that this hunk of a guy would pay attention to her. After all, he was twenty-seven, way buff and looking good after nine years of military service. Nobody in her little self-sufficient suburb would dare to approach her. Fear of rejection and humiliation at the hands of the bitch Ice Queen kept everyone at bay. Therefore, despite her beauty, she was frustrated and vulnerable. Everyone else in town had learned the hard way that she could fight like an alley cat and viciously destroy whoever got in her way.

Aaron was blissfully unaware of this. Their first night together, Veronica pushed him forcefully against his car as they left the coffee shop where they had talked for hours. She forced her tongue into his mouth and brazenly slid her hands across his broad back. At twenty, she had so alienated herself and pushed herself up onto an unreachable plateau that she never had the chance to become as aroused as she was now. Her heart was throbbing and she could actually feel her breasts ache and swell.

Aaron was fully aware of her lush breasts. He had been watching her perfect form all night, trying hard not to leer as he kept the conversation going. She was dressed conservatively, but elegantly, especially for such a young girl. Unlike her outfit that evening, Veronica was no longer acting conservative or tentative. Aaron felt his control slipping as the gorgeous young woman's hands eagerly clutched at his back and her tongue danced around his mouth. His more than adequate cock started to throb and twitch into life in his silk boxers.

Meanwhile, Veronica felt nearly faint from desire, and she slumped forward against Aaron's chest. Her eyes watched as her hands, seemingly of their own volition, pulled his shirttails free of his slacks. She bent her face back up and her lips and tongue now moved across Aaron's lowered face as her fingernails gauged their way across his bare sides. Her hands ended up groping his ass. His back was now fully against the rough brick wall of the coffee shop. Aaron decided to go for it. After all, he had been without sex for months and this chick was hot! Aaron's much larger hands and longer arms reciprocated and went straight down to her full ass, lifting her up several inches and pressing her firmly against his now aching cock.

Veronica was lost in a sexual daze. Her pussy was tight against the long, hard lump in Aaron's brushed silk slacks. Four thin layers of silk separated their sexes; her panties and skirt weren't thick enough to blunt the pleasure she was getting from the thick cock's massage. Veronica's pussy started to engorge with blood and throb. She was astonished. Her limited sexual experience in high school was with boys and their boy-size cocks. Most would have spurted out of control already or been so cowed by her overwhelming presence that they would have meekly walked away. She felt her body shift up slightly. His cock slipped down along her pubic mound and then popped out, locking itself directly under her labia. Her entire body now hung, almost impaled by the cock pushing up into her vaginal entrance. Her own weight, and that of the two hands tugging her ass downward, buried the cock against her. "Oh, God," she moaned. "Aaron, what have you got down there?" Her heels hung inches above the ground, weakly twitching. Her entire body pivoted upon his cock as if it spiked into her cunt mound.

Aaron's hands clasped her hips roughly, milking his cock against her tender mound. He remained silent through these moves. She had started this and his last rough moves didn't seem to change her mind. He wouldn't have stopped now unless she noisily voiced her disapproval.

Aaron was strong enough to hold her in place with his left hand while his right one slid up under her skirt and panties, mauling her smooth right ass cheek. His left hand then repeated the same move. Aaron now had both hands on the soft, naked flesh under her panties. "I don't even know what color her panties are," Aaron mused. "Fuck if I care now."

Earlier he had absent-mindedly wondered about her bra's color, size, and style during their long snack and coffee together. Her shapely bust kept him too distracted in the coffee shop to fanaticize about her panties. Finished deciding that she was still willing, he spun around and pushed Veronica's slight form against the nearby coarse brick wall. Now he really leaned into her and nuzzled her exposed throat with his searching lips.

Veronica could feel his hands, each fully engulfing a shapely ass cheek. The wall now scratched her back through her sheer linen top. Suddenly she felt herself humped up, and one hand disappeared from one side of her ass. Without pause, the hand forcibly lurched up, yanking one side of her blouse free of her skirt. Then, her body thumped back down onto his hardon. The two sexes throbbed almost painfully against each other now. "Eiiiii," she silently screamed. As she felt herself hop up again, she actually mumbled aloud, "Ahhh, he's doing it again." The hand quickly found its original place back against her smooth naked ass. Before she finished the second upward motion, she felt the other side of her blouse yanked free of the restraining skirt. Oddly, she had time to tell herself, "Thank God I decided not to wear pantyhose." Almost before the excited blonde could complete the thought, her body plunged down, back to an abrupt stop atop the immovable bulge. This time she actually let out an involuntarily grunt. The rough treatment confused her body; but her brain craved the stimulation from her overloaded nervous system.

Aaron was in full control of this luscious young girl. Veronica bounced on his cock with each waddling step he made away from the wall. He led her further into the darkened parking lot. Within a few paces, he saw a car with its hood parked toward an adjacent building's wall. He fell forward onto the car, slamming Veronica against the trunk. Without pause, he continued to respond to her fervent kisses while his now freed hands slid up to cup her full breasts. He didn't take time to undo her bra or blouse; he simply thrust everything up above her twin mounds, exposing her breasts to the cool night air and her back to the soothing steel of the auto's trunk. Aaron now shifted his mouth down to her two firm breasts while both his hands feverishly moved toward his own pants.

Veronica, her silk-covered pussy now a few inches above his crotch, lost the wonderful stimulation from his dry humping. To compensate, she focused fully on Aaron's talented tongue and lip suction action that he applied to her plump nipples. Her titties were already tingling from the rough treatment her bra gave as it scraped over her lush mounds. Aaron bit and pinched her nipple and between her huge titties. She was unaware that below her own wet pussy, he had freed his cock from his pants and was preparing to move it to her eager cunt. She did feel two hands briefly push against her bare midriff and then drift outward down the outside of her thighs. The stimulation felt great. Veronica moaned and squirmed under the pressure, never thinking about what she was doing in a very public, albeit dark place.

The wandering hands quickly focused their actions after exploring for the top and bottom edges of Veronica's silk panties. Aaron's right hand grabbed his cock's bulging head between thumb and forefinger while his left shifted her panty's crotch panel to the side. One thrust by the 205-pound ex-soldier and six inches of throbbing dry cock pushed into her well-lubricated, but long unused pussy.

Veronica grunted as if struck with a baseball bat. Her head banged back against the car's hood and she mewed like an insensate being. Before she could recover, she felt the partially lubricated cock pull out, and then saw back in just as hard. Now, in only two strokes, Veronica had nine solid inches of fuckmeat fully buried in her belly.

"Oh, … oh, … oh," was the only sound Veronica could make. She was nearly out of it. For the first time in her life, she was not in control and she loved it. Her body writhed in ecstasy as she continued to quietly chant her "Oh, … oh, …" mantra as Aaron set up his own mindless pattern with his brutal hammering of his entire weight against the sloppy wet cunt mound of the senseless blonde below him.

Aaron could feel her tight, hot glove of a vagina clasp his nine-inch cock as it bludgeoned in and out of her greedy box. He could even feel her labia wetly slither down his cock as he withdrew and then fold inward as his thick rod plunged back. He thought that he could actually feel her outer lips fold down along his cock and move downward into her pussy. Aaron flung his shoulders backward to change the angle of his attack into her loosening pussy. His cockhead now scratched up and down the top of her vaginal wall, hitting her 'g' spot while the girth of his thick cock rubbed her outer lips up and down. He couldn't take it anymore. Aaron grabbed her by the shoulders while he kept humping up into her pussy. He then lifted her up and slammed her backside into the wall behind him.

A single drawn out "Ughhhh" whooshed out of Veronica's mouth as he flung her against the bricks, now sandwiching her between his large bruising frame and the unmovable wall. Aaron was fast losing it; without asking for her permission, or even caring how near to cumming she was, he lunged up as hard as he could for another five or six thrusts. "Oh, baby," he finally gasped, "this is it."

Before Veronica's lust shrouded brain could puzzle out what he meant, he did the impossible and thrust up even harder as his spunk started to spurt. Veronica screamed with ecstasy, as she started to cum for the first time in her young life by the action of another person. She felt her pussy walls clamp over and over again as her orgasm continued, unknowingly matching the rhythm of his cock as it spurted again and again into her tight cunt.

Aaron was the first to start to recover. His still hard, but softening cock continued to feel her pussy's spasms as she grunted and her body still writhed mindlessly upon him. He was amazed at how long her climax lasted. "What the fuck just happened," he wondered as he felt the entire front of his slacks damp from their combined fluids. "I just bareback fucked a chick I have known for less that three hours and only spoken to on two different occasions. God only knows if this fantastic woman is on the pill."

Of course, Aaron soon found out the answer to that question. No, the self-centered bitch never stood a chance of getting close enough to a man to get laid. Her unused young womb was primed and ready. She was no virgin; that night was only her third experience fucking a cock. Her two inexperienced teenage lovers had never once sexually satisfied her and Veronica never allowed either to fuck her a second time.

After their mutually explosive orgasms, Veronica wrapped her legs tightly around Aaron's waist as he moved away from the wall toward his car. "Oh, shit," Veronica moaned as her head rolled back loosely. "Get me out of here; but, don't take me home. I'm such a mess right now. Dad would kill me if he saw what we look like."

Later at Aaron's home, he carried her into his apartment and straight to his bedroom. This time he gently laid her down and quietly began to unbutton her blouse and unzip her skirt. Veronica neither helped nor resisted. Her arms and legs just flopped around as her body was gently moved about to get all of her clothes off. She was still enjoying her unexpected post-coital bliss. It was a sensation that she dreamily wondered why she had wasted so much time without.

Aaron was happy to get out of his stained trousers, and moved up the bed beside the girl he had fallen completely in lust with. His naked body covered hers as his hands grasped hers and pulled them up, over her head. He stretched her out, their hands grasped together. Aaron had to hunch over her, supported only by his knees and mouth as he greedily explored her breasts. His knees were busy sliding hers apart. Without further foreplay, he set his cockhead against her wet and slimy labia, and thrust just his plum-sized knob into her sensitive pussy. After some gentle rotating motions to prime the pot, Aaron felt it was time to get things going. His hands shifted to clutch deep into her ass, pulling up as his body-weight corkscrewed his nine-inch cock deep into her cunt. He buried his tool to hilt in her soggy pussy, his hips circling while his body kept their pubic bones grinding together. Aaron felt his cockhead brushing against her cervix.

With his back thrust up and his entire weight directed into her sloppy pussy, his hands slid out from under her ass to caress their way behind her knees. He tugged upward and raised them all the way up, until her knees pressed against either side of her ears.

As her knees hit her ears, Veronica felt stuffed full of cock. In fact, Veronica felt like her entire being was simply one limbless cunt open for his use. As Aaron expected, Veronica began to grunt and whimper as he skewered her body. His ass cheeks clinched and wriggled in an attempt to swirl his cock across every bit of her tight cunt's walls. If he thought he could have crawled into her pussy, cock first, then that's what he would have done.

The deep penetrating fuck kept Veronica's spine painfully folded back, draping her legs over her head. The highest point of her body was her voracious cunt, pointed straight up to the ceiling.

Aaron pounded the young lady's body for hours, frequently changing positions to stimulate every inch of her loose and battered pussy. Her sexual nerves grew so tender that she nearly continuously orgasmed from the onslaught. Finally, he ended up unloading three heavy cums into her unprotected pussy while in the bedroom. After they were finished, and Veronica had cleaned up enough to go home, Aaron stopped Veronica at his apartment's front door for some final kisses and hugs before she left. His hands could not get enough of her perfect ass.

Veronica was tiring and having a hard time standing. Incredibly, she felt Aaron getting hard again. "Oh, Aaron, haven't you had enough?" She felt Aaron move around to her back, his hands now cupping her sore breasts through her blouse. He bumped her back toward the living room and the couch. Unwittingly she tripped and they both flew headfirst onto the back of the couch. Veronica felt the sofa backrest hit her midriff and her hair flipped forward covering her head as her face hit the pillow.

Aaron landed against her exposed ass as she lay bent over the couch. "Baby, this has got to be karma," he growled. There was only one target for his greedy hands – her skirt had slipped toward her head exposing her stained panties. "Don't even know why you bothered with these things," he mumbled as he pulled the wispy, black silk undies down around her ankles.

"Aaron, what are you doing? I'm tired and need to get some sleep." Veronica complained. "Eiiiiii," she shrieked as she felt his tongue burrowing into her sloppy pussy. "Ah, … ah, … yessss," she murmured as his wet tongue rooted against her labia, soothing her scratched outer lips and once again engorging them with blood. Veronica had strength enough only to gently wiggle her hips side to side, she couldn't even push back against his face. Her feet remained tangled together by the panties that caught on her shoes. The evening ended with his fifth load of live sperm packed up her cunt. The evening was more sex at one time than either had ever dreamed about.

He finally got Veronica home by about 1:00 in the morning. She was not so late beyond her curfew that her father even noticed.

Over the following weeks, the two became inseparable. They hardly did anything in public except briefly appear together as he either picked her up or dropped her off. The remainder of their time was for glorious rutting. Veronica couldn't get enough of her new toy. Her favorite position was when she rode on top with her hips whirling away against his cock, and her full titties bouncing up and down. She loved it. She craved it. Six weeks later Veronica took an early pregnancy test to see why her period was late. She was pregnant.

Within two months of first speaking, Aaron Clarke and Veronica Morton were married. Their home life was wonderful throughout the pregnancy. The hormones that her pregnant body pumped through her system kept her pussy constantly drooling and itching for relief. She was in constant heat. Toward the end of her term, the hormonal emotional swings she experienced contributed to shrieking, wailing, and crying aloud as his thick cock bludgeoned her swollen cunt. The sex was great!

Soon there were problems. Aaron was virtually forced to accept his new father-in-law's offer of employment, in part due to guilt from the quickie wedding. Of course, there were no other business prospects in town. The entire Detroit area faced crushing unemployment and the economy wasn't going to turn around soon. The worst development was after his daughter was born. Veronica kept the post-partum blues and her attitude about sex quickly changed. She blamed him for the changes in her body. Her hips had shifted slightly and her previously beautiful, taut belly was now temporarily flabby. Despite her strong and successful motivation to get back in shape, she never got back that eager sexual responsiveness that Aaron awakened on their first date. Within six months, her body was back in perfect shape. Actually, her breasts stayed one full cup size larger, although they were not quite as firm as before. However, she drifted further and further toward the type behavior she exhibited in high school. Aaron was increasingly alienated in his home and uncomfortable with his job.

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 02 – Better Times (or Freed from the Witch)

Just three years after his marriage, Aaron sat glumly in a Los Angeles hotel bar, slowly nursing a bottle of Mexican beer. His father-in-law was elsewhere, busy entertaining an important client. Not invited for the fun, Aaron decided to while away the evening in the hotel bar. He hated hotel rooms and didn't feel like going out alone to eat.

Unnoticed by Aaron, a mismatched pair enters the bar. A thirty-something giant is leading a well-dressed, diminutive Asian into the hotel bar. Aaron felt a massive blow to his back as the giant thumped him while exclaiming, "Aaron, is that you? You summabitch!" Before he could respond, the man swept him off the stool into his enormous arms.

"Steve Austin? I thought you stayed in Kosovo for another tour?" Aaron responded to his buddy with a strong hug himself.

"Nah, like you I became disgusted with the whole thing. Politicians and generals! Everyone always changing their mind and nobody with the guts to commit to what really needed to be done. Besides, I was threatened with deployment to a new peacekeeping operation in the Sudan. It would be the same thing over again, … no winners, only losers."

"Yeah," Aaron wearily responded. "Things never seem to change for the grunts or the natives. But, you lasted three more years than me."

"No, only stayed two more years than you. I've been out on my own for just a year now. We'll talk more about that later. I'm meeting a client now for about the next 30 minutes. Wait for me." Steve grinned and swaggered away.

Aaron observes that the client is noticeably upset; he is gesturing and cursing. After a few minutes, he settles down and leans forward, intently listening to what Steve is calmly saying. The Asian keeps nodding his head as Steve continues speaking for a long time. Their drinks completely ignored on the table between them. Finally, they both stand and shake hands. They each bow slightly at the waist and the well-dressed Asian quickly strides out of the bar.

Across the room, Steve beckons Aaron to come over. Aaron throws a twenty down on the bar and moves over to greet Steve again. They talk and drink for hours.

Several drinks into the evening, Aaron opens up about the sorry situation with his life. "Steve, it really does suck! I think I could handle the humiliation and boredom at work if I had something to come home to. You know I don't lose control and get drunk; but, a few months ago, I really tied one on. When I got home, Veronica was laying in bed in one of her brief nighties. Man! I tell you she has a sweet ass."

Steve merely nodded. He knew his friend needed to talk this out. Steve remembered the dedication and professionalism that Aaron put into everything he did while a Marine. "Aaron, I know you tried to make it work," he gently prodded, "But, she is much younger than you."

"It's more than that," Aaron said. "You know before the baby was born she was sweet and vivacious. She even seemed to like being submissive about half the time during sex," he hesitantly added.

Steve raised his eyebrows. "And I thought you were 'Straight-As-An-Arrow-Aaron'," he joked back.

The attempt at humor went way over the morose Aaron's head. "Nah, it wasn't kinky or anything. In fact, that time I did get drunk, … wow that was a big mistake."

Steve took a big slug of the beer he had been neglecting. "What do you mean?" he prompted back.

"Well, I'm not sure we should talk about it," Aaron sheepishly replied.

"Look buddy, you're facing a crisis here. I can tell you're getting ready to burst and God only knows what you would do, losing both your wife and job at once. If you do something stupid I can see you getting in trouble with the law." Steve was serious about helping his buddy; but he was beginning to get the idea that maybe they could help each other.

"OK, I'll tell you. However, don't think I'm a pervert or anything. That night, … I was drunk! I kinda lurched onto the bed, naked of course. Yeah, I remember everything that night. Actually, I can never forget it."

"Back to the story, Aaron," Steve dryly reminded his friend.

Aaron gulped down another slug of his Pacifico and continued, "She was facing the other way and since it was kinda warm that night, she had kicked the covers down toward the foot of the bed. I knew she woke up when I fell onto the bed; but, she never budged. That sweet ass pointed right at me. And you know, … no of course you don't, … anyway, after the pregnancy, she had started to wear these thong things as her body toned up. They actually aren't too sexy to the touch compared to wispy silk; but, man did they frame her butt in the best possible way."

He stopped to take a breath and started again. "Well, she had claimed for months that she wasn't aroused or in the mood for 'it' each time I started to cuddle with her. That night I was pissed, … heh, heh, … well drunk and mad both. I started to fondle those beautiful buns and she scooted away from me.

Veronica told me in her snottiest voice, "You're drunk and you stink of smoke and cheap booze. Let me sleep"

"I dunno. Something about her voice, that beautiful body that she wouldn't share anymore, and the liquor made me boil over. I really fucked up man. I yanked her back to me, keeping her on her tummy, and my leg flipped across her back. I thumped my ass down hard on her back and faced that luscious ass. At that moment, I didn't even think of Veronica the wife. I only thought of that virgin ass that had taunted me for two full years. Nothing else mattered but to punish that thing."

"Whoa dude, what did you do?" Steve interrupted with visible interest now.

"Well, I started to whomp that ass. No other way to describe it; I got her with a flurry of at least 50 hard slaps across the back, the sides, the bottom, and in between her gorgeous cheeks. I even got in a few licks down against the bottom of her pussy mound as her legs opened up. She was really shrieking and screaming – and completely unable to control her body at all. I think I finally only stopped to catch my breath."

"The problem is that I am sitting there naked looking at this beautiful red ass and her back is pushing my balls up, forcing my cock against my belly button. We, my cock and I, both needed some relief. And, … here's the real bad part. I turned around, pushed the bitch's head into the mattress, and grabbed our two pillows from the headboard. Then, while she was still gasping for breath, I lifted her hips up and moved her across the pillows. I ripped those damn thongs off her ass, … and that musta really hurt. I was in that ass before she could think about yelling."

Aaron stopped for a minute to reflect on that night. He wasn't ready to share the fact that it wasn't that simple. Veronica had screamed like a banshee when his plum-sized cockhead got stuck in her cherry ass. In fact, it took several violent lunges before he had three inches inside her. After the baby, she never let him into her pussy without a condom. She never even started taking birth control pills. Aaron's view was that Veronica felt she didn't need them since she never wanted to lose control of her sex life again.

The upshot of this situation was that Aaron didn't take the time to either lube up (and there had never been anything like sex-lube in the house anyway) or to grab a condom. His hard, dry cock was sitting there stuck three inches in her ass while she screamed bloody murder below him. Aaron had held her hips tightly against his cock and kept her legs too widely spaced to get purchase against the sheets.

Aaron fully remembered what happened next. He was so hard from the thrill of getting back at the Ice Queen that he just pushed, and pushed until he buried himself to the hilt in her bowels. He never once pulled back out to try and ease it to her. Instead, he ended up with his pubic hair mated tightly against her dry brown grommet and his dick welded to her intestinal wall below. She nearly fainted when he tried to start sawing in and out. Her intestines wouldn't release the steel bar stuck up her ass. Veronica thought that the cock sucked her guts out her rear. Later she told Aaron that it hurt so bad that she couldn't even yell anymore. She could only weep silently in agony and humiliation, half-unconscious as her ass yanked back and forth from his thrusts.

The fact of the matter was that Aaron had never felt as alive as that night. It only happens once or twice in a lifetime, but the combination of anger and alcohol kept his dick hard for well more than an hour while he plundered her rear. He finally got tired of scratching his dick in and out of the dry asshole in front of him. Without mercy, he pulled it out and thrust it back, … into her unprepared cunt. Veronica cried out again at this added indignity. The battered woman had no choice in the way her body responded by juicing up her pussy, coating his cock with her slippery fluids. After five minutes of battering that tight pussy, he pulled out and pushed back into her ass, once again in a single heartless lunge. Every few minutes, as his cock dried out from pumping her ass, he would switch back to her cunt to lube up again. When he neared the end, he started slapping her ass with his hands. Each hand momentarily let loose of a now black-and-blue hip and viciously slapped her ass with a single resounding blow. He kept going, one side after the other until he started to spurt deep in her rectum. "Man! That was heaven," he reflected.

"Steve," Aaron finally continued, "I know that Veronica loved it. Yes, it tore her rectum; but, in fact she came over and over once I really started it on both her holes."

"Whoa, you did both holes while you were drunk?" Steve questioned his friend with a real grin of appreciation on his face.

"Well, I didn't tell you all the details," Aaron responded. "But, when I was finally finished, so was she. In fact, I think the climaxes made both of us pass out, with me still wedged in her ass. I know she was still cumming as I fell asleep. The shit really hit the fan the next day though. She threw a real temper tantrum that morning and threatened everything, … bodily harm, the loss of my dick, divorce, the works … you name it, she threatened it."

Aaron remembered another detail he didn't share with his buddy. That night, Veronica came so hard, and so long, that Aaron could almost still feel the spasms of her vaginal and intestinal walls against his aching cock. Even months later, the thought still made him hard. He had fucked both those holes for at least three rounds while she writhed in ecstasy below his bludgeoning dick. She might not have even been conscious when he finally spurted deep into her ass.

"But Steve, what really hurt is that while I was out of control and abusive that night, I really know she loved it in the end. She would have begged me, promised anything if I had come to my senses, and stopped plunging her. Instead the next day, she treated it as if every bit of it was rape; instead of just the start."

"Actually Aaron, you would be amazed at the number of women who love the full range of treatment. These chicks love the gamete, from gentle romantic sex, to rough wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am fucking. In fact, … not bragging, … but, I have had several 'girlfriends' that occasionally need complete and absolute loss of control as part of their healthy sexual life. Believe me, I'm more than willing to be in total charge. Trust me, it's the best." Aaron's story had released similar thoughts between the two friends normally reticent about discussing sexual conquests.

Aaron and Steve sat together and silently thought about the complexities of the opposite sex while they finished their beers on the table.

Finally, much later, Steve said, "Aaron, believe it or not, your experience with Veronica may have been a blessing. I think that I have a business proposition for you, … , if you can keep an open mind that is."

Steve Austin explained that he is now a 'marketing specialist' in his own international shipping business. Well, accurate enough for now, anyway. He asked Aaron to help him out of a jamb. The Asian that he came in with, a Mr. Fernando Estrada, had an emergency commission that Steve couldn't turn down. Because of the immediacy of the job, it would be especially dangerous to jump into with little prior planning. Steve promised a straight-up fee of $40,000 with the possibility of considerably more in a bonus if Mr. Estrada is fully satisfied with their work. The chance of working with his buddy again, and some excitement and danger to boot, gave Aaron little room for choice. He also considered that the $40,000 wasn't bad given that he was untrained and untested in the business. Aaron agreed and the two shook hands.

The two ordered another round of drinks and got down to business.

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 04 – A Relaxing Flight (or First Class Service)

Aaron Clarke (now Mr. Michael Moore for the duration of his British Virgin Islands work) sat down in his comfortable reclining seat and sighed. He was tired. It had been a busy time getting things set up in Miami; and, he was nowhere near finished yet. That's why he was on the flight. A germ of an idea about doing business in one of the world's vacation spots for the rich led to this exploratory flight on American Airlines. Michael Moore, the first of Aaron Clarke's working identities to be used, was bound for the British Virgin Islands (B.V.I.).

The plan was to stay at a resort hotel and explore the possibilities. Aaron kept Steve Austin, his partner in Los Angeles, appraised of his progress every few days. Steve was impressed with Aaron's progress and obvious dedication. He agreed the idea was a good one and that it was time for Michael Moore to step forward. Steve told him to kick back and enjoy himself while on the scouting trip.

It was still dark outside the aircraft cabin and only a few passengers wandered onboard after Michael's First Class Cabin boarded the flight. Michael was in the fifth, and last, row in his section of the aircraft; right in front of the small First Class Luggage Bin and the dividing curtains. He sat up and only saw two other people, obviously a young couple, up in the front row.

A lovely stewardess stood across the narrow aisle from Michael to greet each passenger and move him or her along to Coach Class seating. Michael noted that unlike many modern stewardesses, Ingrid (from her American Airlines nametag) was trim and athletic. Michael had admired many 'stews' in his time; but, sadly noted that appearance and grooming standards had waned as political correctness and workers' rights infringed on what had been a critical part of early aviation – young, tender, bright-eyed girls dedicated to making an awkward flight a little more enjoyable. Yes, the era of 'eye-candy' while in flight was over.

Michael's critical eye appraised Ingrid as mid-thirties, 5'8" tall, and probably 125 lbs. Her trim form featured nicely formed breasts rising out over a trim belly. Her tailored blouse was tucked snuggly into her skirt's waistband. There was no place to hide any loose 'love handles' under that uniform. Her best feature – a sunny disposition, topped off the overall package. Ingrid's smile showed confidence, enjoyment, and a little mirth as she greeted each still-sleepy passenger that shambled aboard.

Despite her Scandinavian sounding name, Ingrid had black hair and deeply tanned skin. "Guess she enjoys the sun on this Virgin Islands run," Michael thought as he tried not to leer at Ingrid.

Soon after the 'Cattle Class' section was settled, Ingrid whisked the dividing curtains shut. She turned to Michael and leaning forward said, with sincerity, "Sorry for not talking earlier. With our enhanced security procedures, we have to scrutinize each passenger and account for their movements into the various cabins." She then smiled and added with a wink, "I was supposed to get you a drink first-thing upon boarding. You get a free favor in return for me leaving you without service."

Michael was certain she didn't mean anything by the remark; but he decided to remember in case the chance came up to flirt with her later. She looked like a fun bundle for cuddling.

Ingrid then efficiently took the drink orders from her three passengers. Everyone opted for coffee or a fresh-squeezed island fruit juice. Michael took both. Soon Ingrid was finished with her minimal galley duties and sat down sideways on the edge of the seat across the aisle.

"You look wide awake compared to my other two passengers. They will be asleep before takeoff. Do you want peace and quiet, or can I chat your ears off?" Ingrid commented as she leaned across the aisle toward Michael.

Michael's eyes fought to focus on her face instead of her impressively bulging breasts as he answered with a grin, "Well, it would be silly to miss out on all the pretty scenery as we flew along this morning."

"Well, a morning person at last," she responded with a grin of her own. "Everyone on my flight crew is grouchy in the morning; they won't even talk to me till we arrive at our first stop. Till then, everyone just growls, even to the passengers," she laughed.

She sat down and fumbled with her seatbelt. "They're already asleep up there," she said pointing at the couple in the front row. "I think I'll use this seat to give you the pre-flight briefing and stay through the take off. By the way, I am Ingrid Gaviard." She grinned and they kept talking until the aircraft was well on its way to cruising altitude.

Ingrid was pleasant and cheerful. She often laughed as they chatted. At one point, she asked Michael what his plans were in the islands. Michael explained about needing a break from his job and that a few days exploring the islands sounded like fun. A little unhappy about the direction of the conversation, he had to explain about his export business. "I am kind of a 'marketing specialist' in international shipping and I'm expanding operations to the east coast."

"What's that mean?" Ingrid asked.

"Well, my specialty is determining exactly what a customer needs and getting it for him. I'm not talking about everyday items. It's more like you briefly discuss the needs with your customer; and then using a special vision, ensure the right merchandise gets to the them."

Michael wanted to shift the conversation away from his business, "Can you give me any pointers on fun things to do in the B.V.I.? Better yet, if you layover there, maybe you can show me the best beach, or snorkeling spot, or … a restaurant?"

They agreed to meet that night. Ingrid was going to shuttle back and forth during the day till her crew ended up in the B.V.I. with an entire day free for crew rest. Michael wasn't sure meeting was a good idea; he had just been making conversation to avoid telling Ingrid too much about himself. He wanted to stay focused on his scouting; but perhaps her presence would be good cover. Inwardly reluctant, he agreed to pick her up at her hotel.

Michael liked this woman. She was perky and vivacious. In addition, she was cute. She unbuckled and stood up. "Time to get back to work. Whoaaaa," she started as the plane lurched and she virtually flew sideways, fully across his lap.

Michael's quick reflexes only made things worse. As she flew toward him, he reached up to catch her. His left hand missed entirely, but his right hand hit her squarely in the chest, slipping between her blouse buttons. His thumb caught on her bra and the motion of her fall yanked it up and over her nicely formed tits. The result was that while his face was just a foot from one of the best tight asses he had ever seen, his right hand was stuck under her stunned form, strongly cupping one of her bare breasts. He didn't really know what to do, but decided to have some fun. "The worst thing that would happen is she won't meet me tonight," he thought with a grin.

So, before she could recover, his left hand moved across to her back and pressed firmly down, trapping her while his other hand forcefully kneaded her breasts. "Are you OK, Ingrid? My hand seems to be stuck," he laughed.

Ingrid was shocked. One minute she was in charge and casually flirting with 'Michael', and now she was wedged down on this man's lap and locked into place with his hand. Her ass and legs were stuck out into the aisle. The hand was soothing her back with the massaging actions, … but her breasts were being mauled. She silently struggled to get up, but made no headway. "Hey, Michael. What's going on?" she asked as she contorted her head to peer back at Michael.

"You're stuck and I'm trying to help you." He then leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "You have wonderful breasts. I bet your ass is firm too." She started to struggle a little, but his left hand just slipped down across her taut skirt until he felt her hose. "Up we go," he laughed as his hand turned back up along her hose till he squeezed her pantyhose-covered ass.

Her face flushed in embarrassment and anger; she started to pant from a lack of breath. "Stop it, this is not acceptable," she hissed back at Michael.

"Ingrid looks like you really owe me now. I'm a morning person – unlike your grouchy crewmates. We chatted, something you miss in the morning, and I saved you from thumping your noggin against the window here. Keep going and you won't have enough chips to pay off your debt."

She really didn't know what he meant except that he wasn't going to let her loose yet. Ingrid twisted and contorted herself, but was unable to gain leverage enough to begin to escape.

Michael could never explain why he then pulled his loosened tie from his neck and quickly hogtied the frightened stewardess.

Ingrid felt her hands pulled together behind her back and her ankles stretched up till they almost met. They stayed, bowing her body and taking away all possibility of movement. She felt her body lifted up off his lap and then she was balancing painfully on her knees sideways in front of the seat beside Michael. Her feet and hands were touching the side of the aircraft by the window behind her. "I'm trapped, but at least I'm out of the isle," she thought.

Michael looked down at the uncertain girl with her two bare breasts flopped out in the open. He grabbed the white linen napkin she had provided with his drink service and stuffed it into her incredulous mouth. Then, using both hands, he lifted her tight bra out away from her neck and popped it up into her mouth to hold the impromptu gag in place. "Now, hush unless you want someone to find you like this, you kinky thing," he admonished her.

Ingrid remained silent. She was humiliated at the turn of events but at the same time her pussy was throbbing and she felt weak from the lack of control. The excruciatingly tight bra held her chin down on her chest. He position was painful with all her weight on her knees and her back deeply bowed.

"I'll take that as a yes," Michael said gleefully. "Now to finish helping you out." With that, Michael finished unbuttoning the remaining few buttons that held Ingrid's blouse together and yanked it down off her shoulders to her elbows.

Strong hands grasped her breasts and tugged hard. She tried to move forward to relieve the pain, but she was stuck. One by one, the hands curled around her full breasts and latched onto the plump nipples. They were also yanked and twisted, setting off electrical twinges through her nervous system. "My God!" Ingrid thought, "I can feel my breasts swelling and my pussy is starting to tingle as well. What is happening to me?"

Abruptly, he let go. Then she felt her body lifted up again and she was now kneeling on the window seat, facing the bulkhead. Her bare breasts scratched against the seat's fabric. One hand pushed against her back, forcing her to stay in place while the other hand positioned her knees a little wider apart. Her skirt was then rucked high up her back and her pantyhose yanked almost all the way down to her knees.

"Ingrid, you look like a little naked Piggy, … all trussed up and waiting for my branding iron."

She was horrified. This man had bound and stripped her in a matter of moments. Her titties were aching from the earlier twisting and the scratchy airplane seat. Further, her bare ass was pointing toward the pilots' cabin. "Hmmph, hmpp," she started to protest. She wanted him to take back the humiliating 'piggy'. Her tight bra kept her from turning her face toward his body.

Michael loved the sight in front of him. Both hands slid down to the perfect ass. He forcefully squeezed and pinched her cheeks. One hand formed a knife-edge that he drove down her ass crack, across her sensitive anus, and to her twitching pussy. He made her lower lips stretch and twist as the edge of his hand pushed and moved roughly about. She was starting to get wet.

Michael used one hand to grab a small digital camera in his carry bag. While the horrified stewardess twisted and jerked to escape, the camera flashed a number of times; catching her in a series of compromising photos. Fortunately, the couple up front was too hung over from their wedding to notice.

"Now my Little Piggy, you have two choices. First, nod your head to let me know you want a good fuck before we land. The second choice is no fucking, but I'll tell your crew what a dirty Little Piggy you are. Remember the nice pictures?"

Ingrid had no choice. He had those pictures. How horrifying. She nodded her head up and down as best the bra would allow.

"Good Piggy. It will be fun and you won't be hurt, I promise." Without further ado, Michael slid down on his knees and buried his face in her ass. His tongue found her tortured outer lips and he started licking, sucking, and twisting the tender flesh with his tongue, lips, and teeth. One hand stayed busy abusing her ass cheeks. The other yanked her pantyhose down to her ankles where they hung up on the silk tie and her wrists. "No time to lose, old girl," he muttered as his other hand freed his belt buckle and fed his throbbing cock through his underwear. His teeth ripped open the foil of a condom. The camera's digital memory caught the scene in full color and in the digital memory when the timer clicked off another photo. The flash flickered through the cabin like a lightning bolt.

Ingrid felt the wondrous tongue almost painfully stimulating her cunt. Little spasms already made her pelvis swivel and roll, unconsciously trying to fucking an imaginary cock. "Eiiiii," she screamed silently and thought to herself, "Ohh, he's pulling my lips so hard, … it … is … so nice." Her brain was overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensations that so quickly following the shock of falling and the pain caused by the hogtie. A moment later, she felt a pressure against her cunt. "Is he going to fuck me?" she wailed to herself.

As soon as his condom-covered cockhead was centered against her slippery labia, Michael yanked a quick-release from the knotted tie, releasing her ankles but leaving her wrists tightly tied. Her feet flopped down, his hands yanked her hips backward, and he slid smoothly into her sopping vagina. He drove nine inches of meat fully inside her in that first plunge, raising her hips and slamming Ingrid's face into the seat.

Michael looked over his shoulder to the front of the cabin as his cock slid out halfway. "All's quiet up front Ingrid," he announced as his hips forcefully started to swivel in circles, stimulating every bit of her inner walls and meaty cunt lips.

Ingrid was getting into the action now. Still unable to move with her face in the headrest, she tried to move her hips against his motion to increase the stimulation. "Yes, … yes, … yessss," she chanted to herself. She never noticed the additional camera flashes. Then abruptly, the dick was withdrawn from her steaming pussy. Her wet and slimy ass kept circling and searching blindly for the missing cock.

Michael stood up to survey the stewardess. He chuckled and said, "Little Piggy, you sure are fast to breed. I need to get you some more rutting experience." He sat back in his seat and pulled down his own slacks and boxers. "No use getting myself slimy from your juices Piggy," he observed to the inattentive woman.

Ingrid next found herself facing the front of the cabin with her back to her captive, her hips still held tightly by the man's strong hands. Then she was lowered back onto his cock. Despite the fear of being caught and a certain firing after a humiliating review board, her heart jumped as the fat head pushed back in, to the hilt. The bra still painfully held her mouth open and her chin down as far as it would go. Something slid down over her eyes, blocking her view of the cabin. "Ohhhh, no! He's put a sleeping mask from the First Class Comfort Kit over my eyes," the analytical stewardess cried to herself. His hands then savagely squeezed her tits.

Michael grinned at the camera he had stuck between the two seats in front of them. It was set to take a picture every thirty seconds. Ingrid could no longer see the repetitive flashes. "Hope no one comes by to see why all the pictures are being taken," Michael laughed to himself. He then reached forward and pulled the ruined bra and soggy napkin out of Ingrid's mouth. He yanked her head back against his chest. One hand now rested tightly against her throat and the other mashed into her belly to control her hips as he sat still. "Do you want me to stop Piggy?" he asked with an evil voice.

She squirmed for several seconds trying unsuccessfully to grind her pussy down on the immobile cock. "Yes, stop … ahhh. No, eiiiii. No, … no, …" Ingrid's common sense said no; the rest of her being took over and hissed, "Michael, you bastard! Fuck me, … fuck me, … fuck me. Ughhhh, Goddd. Oh, you fuck!"

Michael took the hint, lunged upward, and began a rapid up and down fucking motion. Her damp and slimy pussy made a rhythmic slapping sound as it slammed against his thighs, over and over. He was churning his dick through her cunt, touching every inch of her velvety pussy. It was incredible that nobody from the crowded Economy Class section of the aircraft noticed the obvious sounds of sex.

Afterward as they sat together, huddled more or less like normal passengers, Michael leaned over to Ingrid beside him and said, "Believe me, I have never done anything remotely like that before. Your jumping on me just triggered something uncontrollable."

She flushed and her sense of propriety returned enough for her to snap, "Well, it won't happen again! I will admit the ending was nice, … but, it was really rape. I mean, … the nerve of you, tying me up and …, Umphh." His hands pulled her flapping mouth to his in a passionate kiss to stop her self-righteous tirade.

Every major nerve bundle in her body twitched in response to the deep kisses. Impossibly, she felt her wet and sticky pussy start to throb again.

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

Michael felt invigorated as he stepped of the ramp into the bright tropical sunshine." I have the entire day to do some exploring and then prepare for my 'date' with Ingrid," he grinned while reflecting on the way she only agreed to meet him after he reviewed with her some of the photos in the large color viewer of the digital camera. Her orders were to skip check-in at her regular hotel and go straight to his to change for dinner.

The Customs and Immigration Officers only made perfunctory review of the passenger's belongings and papers as the passengers passed through. After all, nobody was worried about drugs coming into the British Virgin Islands with tourists. Further, local business would not tolerate interference with the needed cash infusion brought to the islands by tourists.

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

Michael stepped into a taxi from the stand in front of his luxury resort complex, the Castle Maria in Road Town, Tortola. He directed the driver to take him to the Road Town office of Banco do Estado de San Paulo.

A smiling and officious bank Vice President, Odiwaldo S. Nesser, greedily watched a bank lackey count the stack of $100 bills that Michael Moore submitted for deposit. Mr. Moore sat calmly sipping his tea while he reflected on how well the morning had progressed.

After checking in to the hotel, Michael arranged for a fast introductory interview with a local real estate agent, a Miss Connie Baxter. He selected her solely based upon her company's website that featured several shots of the fetchingly beautiful agent.

Michael Moore and Connie had chatted agreeably for about thirty minutes. Michael passed on his rental requirements to the quickly overwhelmed rental agent. Michael insisted on the following:

A large secluded luxury villa with beach access and all the necessities: pool, Jacuzzi, tennis courts, ski boat, small sailboat, jeep and mopeds.
Full luxury food provisions with enough for 10-15.
Minimal interference from staff and maintenance crews.
An unlisted local phone only, no access to international circuits.

Michael offered to pay cash for three weeks rental, a substantial deposit in case of damage, and reimbursement for anything on his required list that had to be rented or purchased. He expressed his confidence to Miss Baxter that she would find exactly what he specified, and he left the astonished woman sitting at her desk staring bemusedly at the almost ¼ pound of $100 bills ($20,000) left on her desk as a 'good faith' deposit.

Michael nibbled on an English biscuit in the banker's office as he pondered again on the interview. "I think she will take me up on the offer for drinks and dancing," he thought. "She was cute and cuddly, a little plump from the soft island life and no exercise; but, we can work that off in a few days of 'structured' weight control and workouts," he grinned as he visualized a naked Connie running on an electric walking machine, her wrists tied off to the support bar, … breasts swaying and bouncing. At thirty-two, she was a definite prospect for putting in a final hogtie.

Connie Baxter had also proven to have a great sense of humor. She agreed to help him with a girlfriend problem. She giggled when he described the problem and his proposed solution. Like many women, the chance to put a potential rival down a few notches was too great an opportunity to pass up

"Oh, yes, life is certainly getting more interesting," he observed. "Perhaps she could sweat it off exercising by the pool under the hot sun. We do need some color added to the fair-skinned Connie anyway."

Ingrid paused outside the fancy entry threshold of the Sir Francis Drake luxury suite and pondered her choice to show up at his room tonight. "Damn it, he left me no choice in this," she angrily fumed. "Those pictures would ruin me. Sex with a passenger! Shit! Shit! Shit!" She had to refrain from stomping her feet in frustration.

Of course, Ingrid was fully aware that her body had stayed in heat all day. She had masturbated each time she could break free during her busy schedule, at least a dozen episodes so far. She also knew that most of the aching soreness in her bruised breasts, nipples, pussy, and clit came from her own mauling hands. Each time she sat down on a toilet that day, she had orgasmed over and over. Her hands and groin were puffy and sore from the repeated soaking in her slimy pussy juices and then the harsh soap needed to wash away the stink. "I have dirtied every scrap of underwear and spare uniforms that I packed," she complained to herself.

She also remembered her humiliation as she edged her way toward the aircraft's cramped bathroom to repair her disheveled appearance and torn clothing. In the cramped bathroom, she saw with horror the reflection in the mirror of a wild-eyed sexual pervert. With only moments till her landing duties had to commence, the dismayed senior stewardess aboard the flight hurriedly wiped her sticky pussy and thighs. She then bumped around the tiny room while she struggled into a clean pair of pantyhose. A clean bra and blouse finished up her clothes repairs. Fixing her makeup and hair took longer. She balled up the ruined clothes in her blouse and returned to near Michael's seat. "I hope you're happy, you bastard!" she hissed at him as she plopped down onto her seat. She bent down and repacked her travel bag.

That's when he described their change of plans for that night. He told her to report to his room at the Castle Maria after her last shuttle run from Miami. Their date would consist of dinner out and staying the night at his room.

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 – Take off panties and place on your desert plate

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

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

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

5 – Turn on the switch

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

7 – Set the box on the floor beside you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 06 – A Luxury Suite (or Tight, Tight, Everything is so Tight)

Back in the Sir Frances Drake suite, the three conspirators celebrated their victory. The two college girls oohed and ahhed over the beautiful flower arrangements and the snack tray set out for their use. A variety of fresh fruits and sweets were available for light snacking, along with the rich champagne. The luxurious candlelit suite captivated the girls.

Sophia Lenz and Rochelle Grosso were only too eager to be hired to humiliate the two older women that were so obviously 'prim and proper'. Michael Moore had explained that by morning the two would think they had spent the night fucking each other nearly to death in the suite's master bedroom.

They spoke of how funny it was that each of the three conspirators was on the islands from Miami. The two girls were on their second working summer vacation on the islands. Two years before, the girls briefly explored the island paradise over a Spring Break. Each received a number of offers for sex at handsome rates. Initially offended, they later began to think it would be fun. Hence, the annual pilgrimages that so far had covered all their summer expenses and provided plenty of spending money for the school year. Both girls were rising seniors in college.

Michael resolved to make this a special evening for the two and possibly get them to bend their rules later on about hooking during the school year.

Soon the three were naked in the Jacuzzi enjoying the aromatic swirling steam and sipping more champagne. They never heard the discrete knock from the concierge who was keeping a late night to fully satisfy this amazing customer.

After much splashing and cavorting, Michael disengaged himself from the two fun-loving girls and went to check on his two other guests. Sure enough, the staff had performed perfectly. An exhausted Ingrid was draped atop a stool in a modified hogtie. Her chest rested on the seat allowing her head to hang down free. Her knees were tied to the other side of the cushiony seat. This moved her delectable ass straight up into the air. Her hands were lashed to her side. She had been redressed in white stockings and a black corset with built-in garters. She also wore black 'fuck-me' heels and her friend, the red ballgag. Anyone would assess Ingrid naked and mouthwatering.

Michael walked around the semi-conscious girl and took a few pictures for mementos. Ingrid was only on display now as a piece of ornamental art. She was fucked out and barely awake, both from exhaustion and from the drugs coursing through her system. Ingrid looked like a total slut.

Michael couldn't resist fucking the delectable Ingrid statue. The corset suspenders holding up the black hose framed her ass perfectly. Michael rolled on a condom and lined himself up with Ingrid's anal star. The throbbing knob of his dick slipped smoothly into the already stretched ass. He glided easily all the way up her rectum. Much looser now from the gangbang, her ass was still snug, velvety, and hot to his greedy dick. As her sphincter clasped and winked at his increasing pace, Michael resolved to force Ingrid to play in future games before she was harvested. He had more than enough blackmail material to be sure she never escaped. If Michael decided that she would fill a customer's order, then picking her up in Miami would be a simple task. Ingrid's life would never be the same again.

The two girls came out of the bathroom laughing and giggling. The Ingrid statue was the crowing glory of Ingrid's humiliating night. The photos later showed Ingrid in many poses with the naked girls. It looked like the three had quite a party. After the photo session with the helpless Ingrid, the two still naked hookers moved Ingrid to join Connie on the king-sized master bed. The two now naked beauties were laid to rest on their backs. Laughing and enjoying themselves, Sophia and Rochelle grabbed a handful of colorful permanent markers and went to work on their canvases. Soon each sleeping beauty sported personalized love notes with forged signatures from either Connie or Ingrid.

Connie's body proclaimed (in part anyway):

"You are awesome – Luv Ingrid"

"Oh, God! Never better – Ingrid"

"Fuck me more – Your slut Ingrid"

"I ate you all night – Piggy Ingrid"

"I love you, Little Pussy – Ingrid"

"Nice tongue girl – Piggy"

"Piggy loves Pussy"

Similar notes adorned the torso of Ingrid's body – all signed by her sex-partner, Connie. Each was also covered with flying kisses, hearts, love arrows, and more girlish art.

Two different photo sessions followed. The first featured only photographs of Connie and Ingrid. The last photo session showed all four nymphet's in career ending poses. Actually, the two college girl sluts never realized the danger of posing for someone like Michael Moore. Afterward, Michael arranged Little Piggy and Little Pussy with their arms wrapped around each other while the girls each lubed-up a giant twenty-four inch double-ended jelly cock.

Sophia picked up the hot pink one and worked one end deep into Ingrid's pussy, forcing it through her dark, matted pubic hair.

Rochelle followed suit and drilled her neon orange cock deep into Ingrid's intestines.

Each girl then stuffed the free end of their floppy cocks deep into one of Connie's gaping holes. A hard push or two, and the girls were well and truly stuck together at the cunt and ass.

Surgical gloves were pulled out of a small paper sack that the kitchen staff had returned with the two sticky cunts. Each of the three donned a pair of gloves and started to squeeze the spent spunk from the two-dozen or so sperm-filled condoms in the bag.

"Girls, it looks like the restaurant staff, the chauffeur, and the hotel staff all helped themselves to a few pieces of Little Piggy or Little Pussy delight. Wonder if the girls were responsive through any of this?" Michael laughed and kidded with his two cohorts.

The slimy splooge was spread everywhere: eyelids, faces, hair, breasts, tummies, and more. The two respectable ladies would awaken two sore, sticky, and horrified bitches. Fortunately for them, any bruises or colorful ink was limited to their torso and asses.

Michael stepped up and carefully removed Ingrid's precious necklace and earring set. He then buckled a tight leather collar on each and clipped a six-inch neck chain between the two tarnished lovebirds.

Rochelle threw a new Polaroid camera on the bed by the filthy victims. Next she scattered the twenty color prints from the two packages of instant pictures that she had just taken (only depicting Ingrid and Connie in incriminating scenes). The prints shouted out to whoever saw them that the two girls had really tied one on and had way too much fun together.

Sophia found the alligator clip and chain set that Connie used earlier to control the unwilling and horrified Ingrid. Connie's full titties were soon straining to meet each other, thanks to the short chain. Sophia rummaged through Michael's magic bag and found the other matching set. Soon Ingrid's titties were also strongly tugged together by the evil clips and short chain. Sophia had added an evil twist. Each chain was wound through the other, effectively chaining the two beauties together, nipple-to-nipple, neck-to-neck, and groin-to-groin.

The still crisp and clean top sheet was then drawn up over the two, hiding the scene of debauchery. The room's drapes were pulled shut and the now empty champagne bottles were carelessly strewn around the bedroom.

Michael left a scrawled note on the bathroom mirror, almost covering it in bold, red, lipstick:

"Ladies, I enjoyed the start of our evening immensely. You two sure hit it off together in the restaurant. Sorry, but you two just got too wild for me. I left for a quiet room in another hotel. You two lovebirds have fun together. Will call and chat later,

Love M.M.

He then set the necklace and earrings back into their respective boxes and placed then into his carry bag. Time enough in the morning to return them to the jewelry store. They served their purpose. He smiled, "She may not even think of the pearls given what she will wake up to. Poor dear." The three then drew on complementary hotel robes, gathered up their few things and quietly crossed the hall to another, smaller suite. A dark, and thoroughly messy suite was left behind, … in silence, … to await horrified hysterics in the morning.

Michael was in bliss. He had a sweet, tasty, young pussy mashed down on his face and his hands were busy mauling and tugging on Rochelle's luscious titties. Rochelle was riding his face, looking forward. Behind her, Sophia (her friend, roommate, and sometimes lover) rode Michael's erect fuck stick. Sophia's arms were thrust back behind her shoulders grasping Michael's thighs, her full titties bouncing in the air.

Sophia's position allowed her pelvis to force his cockhead to scrape forcefully across the front wall of her cunt; caressing her 'g' spot.

All three were in fuck heaven.

Sophia started her orgasm with, "Ahhh, ahhh, ohhh, yesss." Rochelle was ready to move as soon as she felt her friend stop moving and begin twitching in place. She swung off Michael's face and pushed Sophia off the cock. "My turn, you greedy slut," she panted as her drooling pussy clasped Michael's dick and inched its way down, down, all the way to the hilt. "Oh, yes, … that's what I'm talking about, yes …" she babbled with joy.

Before she mounted up, Rochelle was already so close to coming. She leaned forward onto Michael's chest and demanded, "Fuck me! You bastard, fuck me! Now, ya, … ya, … ya, … aghhh!"

Michael grasped her perfect ass globes as her hot, tight, pussy slithered its way down his throbbing cock. He needed no further encouragement from Rochelle to seat her firmly down and pump for his life. Unlike Sophia's slow and dreamy screwing, this was full-blown, 'fuck me now sex'. They were racing to the finish line side-by-side.

Sophia fucked three fingers in her own drooling pussy and then stuck them deep into Rochelles' ass.

Rochelle felt the perfect ending coming. Her pussy and his cock both started twitching and jerking about together. Then something huge was stuck deep in her ass and rotated around. "Oh, fuck, … Sophia, … yes, yes, …" She felt a momentary twinge of regret that Michael refused her offer of a bareback fuck. He was the first lover or customer that she was willing, and even dreamed of, fucking bare. She respected that he only fucked women without a condom if they had two month's clean HIV and STD blood tests, and … the big one … they committed to fucking everyone else with condoms.

Michael was now more than ready. His dick had given him a serious case of blue balls over the course of the evening – first watching that luscious Ingrid dress, then lusting for her and imagining fantastic sex during the long dinner, and finally having to watch without being able to fuck as the kinky post-dinner floor show commenced. "Oh, God, Rochelle. I need to cum sooo bad," he was virtually begging her to give him a sign that he could shoot off into her clasping pussy.

With no further discussion, they each burst uncontrolled into orgasm. She stopped humping and swiveling and just ground down as hard as she could. Her contractions completely masked his equally strong reaction as he pumped over and over into the condom.

"This is great! This is really great," Michael thought to himself in post-coital bliss. He then drifted off to sleep with Rochelle still mounted on his softening cock. Rochelle started to nod off as well. Sophia was already snoring softly beside the two.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 07 – Time to Get to Work (or Cleaning up the Doctor's Mess)

Michael Moore returned to Miami on the morning flight. His twenty-four hour vacation, even though two days shorter than planned, had been successful beyond any expectations.

He left Ingrid Gaviard and Connie Baxter entwined in drugged bliss; unaware, as yet, of the full extent of unbridled lust and debauchery they must have committed together the night before. Michael grinned as he reflected on all the 'evidence' planted to make it appear that their actions had been solely between the two of them and not the non-consensual orgy it actually was.

His feet tapped reassuringly against his black leather satchel stuffed with damning video and negatives of the previous night's events. High quality, professional video cameras had captured every act committed in the luxury hotel suite, the dinner table at the restaurant, the restaurant ladies' bathroom, and the bright and sterile kitchen. Michael had set his hooks deep into four unsuspecting sluts. How he reeled them in depended upon his business needs and his upcoming acquisition runs.

His immediate need for a villa to finalize his reconnaissance and prepare for actual operations was left in the capable hands of the soon to awaken Connie Baxter.

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

Actually, Connie and Ingrid would not wake each other up for hours – well into the afternoon. When they first stirred, they discovered that their eyes were nearly glued shut from some crusty residue. The situation led them to believe it was cunt slime. They never realized it was sperm saved in condoms from the gangbang they were featured in.

Next, they noticed their cunts and asses ached with a deep throbbing pain. They were entwined together. They recoiled in horror only to painfully realize they were also attached by two sets of nipple chains. Also, their poor cunts and assholes felt like they were joined by two huge logs. Neither girl knew who the other was. Doctor Kay's magic drugs had once again worked wonders. Only Connie had any recollection of agreeing to meet Michael's submissive girlfriend.

Connie was the first to start to awaken. Her right arm was asleep and she wondered if maybe she had gotten lucky with that guy she met the day before. She dreamily thought about his strong body and rich tastes. The giant stack of $20 bills he left as a deposit made her pussy spasm with need. Vaguely, her abused pussy let her know that she had indeed fucked him. "Hmmm," she murmured and wriggled her hips a little in remembrance of a ghostly image of her fucking and humping over and over again. Connie thought it odd that her head felt clear as a bell, but her memories were so fuzzy and elusive. She kept her sleep-crusted eyes shut in the still-dark room and leaned back a little. Her sore nipples complained as her breasts pulled back on the entwined nipple chains of the two sleeping women. Connie sleepily leaned back toward her sexual partner and despite the fear of morning breath, nuzzled her lips against his soft and equally sleepy lips.

Ingrid was now also starting to stir. Her left arm was equally numb from the night-long weight of her sexual partner. She remembered the morning flight from the day before and meeting that horrid man, Michael Moore. Ingrid did fondly remember the final throes of her forced sex. The orgasms had been more intense than anything she ever experienced in her life. Like the slowly stirring Connie she sleepily wriggled her hips and felt Michael's morning woodie firmly lodged in her itchy cunt. Her first sleepy sound was also a, "Hmmm," reflecting remembered sexual thrills. From the throbbing, swollen feedback from Michael's boner, their night of sex was fantastic. "Why can't I remember it yet?" she wondered quietly. "I don't have a headache or hangover, so …" Her thoughts were interrupted by Michael's gentle exploration of her lips.

Their tongues momentarily twisted against each other and then both girls simultaneously drew their free arms tighter against their sexual partner. The kissing grew more intense, each felt their tender nipples, and breasts throb with renewed lust and need. Their youthful and well-toned bodies had recovered quickly from their night of unremembered rape and abuse.

Twin, hmmms of bliss rattled from deep within each of their throats and they hugged tighter. Each started to hump a little against the other, taking advantage of what they thought was Michael Moore's lust-swollen cock. The painfully raw pussy flesh amplified the quivers of growing lust each felt. Ingrid was hungry for his cock despite her remembered humiliation from the flight and Connie just simply lusted after the well-toned body of a rich businessman. For some reason they couldn't figure out, their rectums were also throbbing, almost as if they had given the hugely endowed Michael Moore their virgin asses.

It was at this point, as each girl was selfishly preoccupied with increasing her own level of lust, that each became aware of the unexpected shortness and softness of her partner. Four bleary, cum-smeared eyes fought their way open in the dark hotel room and tried to focus on their lover's face. Neither could see much with the drapes tightly shut. The older and more sexually experienced Ingrid, just let her sexual urge overtake her faint sense of alarm, closed her eyes again, and levered her way on top of Michael. She humped blindly for a minute or so, rotating his incredibly large cock around her unusually sensitive cunt when she tried to lean back to more fully control the fuck. Excruciating pain from her nipples and slight tugging from her throat stopped her backward movement. Her questioning hands encountered the lush pair of breasts on her partner simultaneously with a set of hands grabbing her own tits.

The more awake Ingrid hoarsely blurted out, "What the fuck. Who are you?" and tried to roll off her fuckmate. That's when each realized that they weren't fucking Michael's cock; but instead, some other huge thing joined their cunts together. Ingrid carefully brought her knees up alongside her unknown lover and raised her cunt to remove the cock. That caused an incredible shock of pain to shoot through each of the two abused and joined pussies and assholes. She sagged down on her partner and hissed, "I don't know what this is about, but you did this, so get us apart."

Connie responded with, "Are you Michael's girlfriend? Why were you fucking me? What kind of twisted bitch are you?"

Both women were used to commanding their own lives and felt that this situation had to be the fault of the other. Eventually, each undid their own nipple clips, setting off a round of shrieking, whimpering, and wriggling around as the renewed blood flow caused incredible pain from the black and blue nipples. Oddly enough, the interrupted morning sexual arousal was rekindled during this painful movement and each of their hips unconsciously started to vigorously hump against the other. The gigantic jelly cocks were buried ten inches deep in each cunt and rectum. Each climaxed heavily, unable to hide that fact from their partners, tremendously increasing their humiliation. Eventually, they figured out how to unclip the chain between their collars and they moved their heads as far apart as they could on the bed and gingerly scooted off the gigantic, neon-bright cocks.

Ingrid and Connie fell off opposite sides of the bed and crawled, one toward the window and the other toward a nearby floorlamp. The full afternoon sun illuminated a scene of debauchery that neither wished to believe happened. The proof was all there. Each pointed to the other's body in silent horror at the bright permanent red ink writing exposed to the light of day. The room was silent as the extent of their obviously wild night sunk in. Then Connie noticed a Polaroid Camera and some film lying under the edge of the sheet. When she yanked it back revealing lots of pictures, each jumped forward, frantic to grab the evidence. The instant prints showed lesbian scenes the girls could not believe, except the proof was undeniable.

The naked and abused women agreed that each could take and later destroy half the pictures and half of any evidence. Then the girls staggered through the luxury suite looking for Michael. The lipstick sign in the bathroom left each crestfallen that Michael had left them to their own playful romping in his expensive room.

They silently took turns showering. Ingrid went first, only too happy to get her whorish costume off. She wondered where the black lace-up corset and stockings came from. While Connie was in the shower, Ingrid wrapped a fluffy oversized towel around her and wandered through the empty suite, observing the empty champagne bottles and picked over trays of food. There were no clothes anywhere. The bedroom window was cracked open and when Ingrid idly walked over to it, she saw a shredded bra hanging half in the room, like some battle worn symbol of truce. She wearily walked over and yanked it back into the room. Several stories down, she saw remnants of clothes strewn across the landscape plantings along the building's wall. So much for their evening clothes.

Michael's final twist to the scene was the removal of all clothing except for some soiled and torn articles left in Ingrid's small travel bag. Ingrid got dressed first, distastefully pulling up a stiff pair of her stinky panties from the day before. She kept the only useable blouse left and zipped up her skirt. She took one dildo, half the prints, and her collar chain and nipple set as agreed. Without a word to Connie in the bathroom, she left suite to check into her room reserved at another hotel by the airlines. The only clothing in the suite was the remnants of the bra found in the window, and Ingrid's spare stewardess uniform, a skirt and the blouse torn by Michael.

Connie was now on her own in Michael's luxury suite. The skirt was too tight to zip up all the way but it did cover her up. The blouse was tied across her belly as there were no buttons left on it. Shortly, the humiliated blonde crept down the resort's stairs, barefoot and carrying her purse stuffed with the remaining evidence of her sexual deviance.

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

By now, the airplane was nearly back to Miami. Michael continued his review of the events, "I have two beautiful, mature fuck bunnies, whether or not they willingly cooperate is of little consequence, and two unprincipled college sluts. All four rated PPP on my reserve 'A' list." He continued thinking about the two part-time whore / part-time college students. The three had fucked, sucked, squirmed, and exhausted themselves on the king-size bed of the room they retired to after abandoning the Sir Frances Drake suite to the two drugged, double-dildo stuffed thirty-something women.

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

As the older women abandoned their luxury suite and Michael rested on his flight, the two college honeys were soaking in the second hotel room's Jacuzzi, sipping on cold, fresh-squeezed orange juice and staring with greed at the vanity mirror. Michael had artfully arranged thirty $100 bills in an arch across the mirror facing the tub. All three conspirators were well satisfied by the intensive twelve-hour ploy they had set up to entrap Connie and Ingrid. Rochelle and Sophia were also financially sated from the adventure; although lust for more money remained based upon the way they stared at the thirty bills on the mirror.

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

Aaron worked feverishly over the next weeks to finalize preparations in the warehouse. It was to be the critical node in all his upcoming operations and in keeping emergency contingencies viable. Only Aaron could perform this work. He welded, cut, and ground steel for days. Then he did interior plumbing, electric, and carpeting inside the containers. Next, he installed all the fancy, but strong steel doors and gates he had laboriously constructed. Electronic gadgets were strategically located throughout the three containers and the warehouse itself. Lastly, he moved furniture into the containers and made any final arrangements. Aaron was close to going operational.

Late one Thursday night several weeks after returning from the British Virgin Islands, Aaron Clarke drove out of his darkened warehouse through the roll-up doors. He clicked his remote and the doors silently slid down behind him. Steve had phoned the night before to say that things were getting worse between him and Doctor Patricia Kay. She was distant and cool during their last conversation.

"I tried to arrange a meeting Thursday night anywhere in Miami. Aaron, she refused because of some medical charity thing she's committed to for that evening. Then she claimed to be busy for the next few weeks. She vaguely offered to come out here to Los Angeles in about three weeks. I think something might be going down soon."

Steve sounded unusually tense. Aaron replied, "Well, I'm almost fully prepared to start taking acquisitions. We are better off now than during that last recon. I'll do it tomorrow night and get back with you."

As promised, Aaron was driving north toward the fancy North Miami address where Doctor Kay lived. It was a gated community (Indian Key Village), but Aaron had an 'in'. Doctor Kay was a greedy woman. She was wealthy by any standards. In addition to the extremely profitable free-lance work she did for Steve and his associates, Doctor Kay made a lucrative income from her practice as a well-known plastic and reconstructive surgeon. Her customers were thrilled with Doctor Kay's work; she was a truly gifted surgeon.

Doctor Kay's greed had nearly been her downfall a year and a half ago. Despite her own millions, she consistently bilked the patient's insurance companies of millions of dollars a year. On the insurance forms, the lovely doctor requested reimbursement for work never accomplished; all the claims were for reimbursable treatments under the policies. A medical insurance fraud investigator, Marie Mathis had investigated her practice and doggedly pursued the dirty doctor.

A little over a year ago, Doctor Kay contacted Steve to take care of the problem. To facilitate delivery of the captive investigator, she thoughtfully provided keys to her office and home as well as passcards and alarm information. Thus, Steve was able to bring the unwilling Miss Mathis to the doctor's clinic and later to her home.

Despite the gated community's purported security, there was a convenient by-pass lane for vehicles with pass cards. Steve told him the video coverage only focused on vehicles that passed through the guard station for access to the estates. The stuck-up homeowners objected to too much surveillance of their own activities and wanted privacy for any special visitors.

Patricia Kay's home sat up on a hill. Aaron, now in his identity as Robert Morgan, arrived at the estate's entry gates about 30 minutes after dark. The access card opened up her gates and he headed up the landscaped drive. Robert reflected on the irony of the opening gate allowing him to decide if Doctor Kay's fancy life might have to be tragic ended, depending upon what he discovered. He thought, "I don't think this bitch is willing to protect anyone if she is in trouble. She may find that there is nothing worse than to piss of someone like Steve."

Up at the main house, Robert parked off the main driveway, pulling behind the garage and kennels located behind the home. He hoped that if she came home unexpectedly, she would be looking toward her home without noticing the faint car tracks in her lawn.

From the concrete block kennel building, Robert walked under a covered walkway up to the main house. Again, the proper keys and access codes made quick work of the rear door and the alarm panel. Robert paused long enough at the panel box to disconnect the alarm's remote feed that would alert the fire department or police of a problem with the house. He also moved a telephone/answering machine from the kitchen to the alarm cabinet. After he cut all the feeder lines to the remainder of the phones on the estate, he plugged the phone feed for the alarm into the single remaining phone. "That takes care of the alarm in case I gotta come back and only one phone will work until then," he mused.

Robert crept up the dark stairwell to the upstairs where he knew the office was located. The good doctor's files were organized and detailed. She obviously kept her true books here at home rather than at the office. He found extensive correspondence from major insurance companies complaining of her obvious, and repeated, over billing and consistent claims for work not performed. The correspondence also highlighted that much of her work was clearly not medically necessary.

Another set of folders in her antique roll-top desk contained correspondence with her attorney. He had forwarded letters from the Florida State Medical Review Board that highlighted the insurance company's complaints against Doctor Kay. "Patricia, Patricia, Patricia, … Steve got you out of this jam once. You must be a real greedy, self-centered bitch to keep going, especially with your high-end medical practice."

Further in the thick folder was a letter where her attorney clearly states he 'cannot stave off any further the efforts of the State Attorney General to formally investigate your practice, Doctor Kay.'

"Bingo, Set, Point, and Match. You are so screwed bitch!" Robert continued to read the other letters and notes. It was clear to Robert that Patricia was only days away from a series of subpoenas and search warrants. Her medical license, her practice, and her freedom itself were at risk. Her lawyers implied that she would also do jail time on top of losing everything.

Robert pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed Steve. "Hey, buddy it's me," he said. After the expected pleasantries, Robert went on to say, "Remember you asked me to look in on your sister; well, it's just like you thought. She is getting ready to have some big-time problems, like right now. She's out of control and her husband will file for divorce any day. You know how many people she has messed with. I think she will bring out a lot of dirty family laundry during divorce proceedings."

When Robert paused, Steve responded with, "Damn. I hate to see things fall apart so bad for her. You know she doesn't have anyone else out there to help her with this."

"Yeah, true" Robert responded. "But, your sister has a lot of records that document her hobby. You may not know, but she and her husband obviously have an open marriage. Lots of their friends and acquaintances will be exposed to public scrutiny in a messy divorce. Can I help you and your sister out here in Miami?"

Steve easily followed the cryptic conversation. It protected both of them in the eventuality that they were investigated, or that authorities were using some sort of word screening program to randomly analyze conversations. "I think you ought to help her get quietly and safely out of state and let her lawyers process the divorce. Sorry that my sister has to lose so much, but she can't win in this fight. It's simply gone too far and from what you say, it'll be too dirty."

"OK, I can help her pack up and move without her husband even knowing. The lawyers should be fired though. Then this will be a closed chapter in her life." Despite his cool demeanor, Robert was starting to sweat. He wasn't ready for this yet.

Steve sadly agreed, "OK Bud, fire the attorneys as well. Just clean things up the best you can. Try to be thorough, and be nice to sis. Whatever you spend, we can even up on latter."

Robert agreed to the plan; although, he didn't enjoy the clear directive to recover rather than destroy the doctor.

Steve finished the conversation with an admonition and a stipulation, "Just be sure to keep this low-key, and do all the work yourself – beginning now."

Robert responded with an, "affirmative," and hung up.

Robert wryly thought that at least he no longer had to keep anyone from noticing that a prowler had been in the home. The backup plan, laughingly named Plan B, called for removing Patricia from the home and destroying everything. Robert carefully and efficiently started packing all of her files into duffel bags he had brought in the van in case he needed to gather evidence. He threw Patricia's computer on the floor with all his considerable strength and then rummaged through the debris for the hard drive. Even though it was only 8:00 by now, he kept alert for any headlights coming up the drive. Robert needed a few minutes preparation to greet the errant doctor.

Next, he moved from the upstairs office down the hall to the master bedroom suite. Doctor Kay had some personal pictures displayed on her dresser. They depicted a slender blonde with maybe a C-cup size. "Nice package," Aaron observed. "She's blonde, blue-eyed, and has everything packed into a nice slender, athletic frame." He turned his attention to her clothes drawers.

"Hmm, nice and soft." He was now rummaging through her lingerie drawers. "She sure has a lot of wispy silk panties. But these cushioned bras would have to go." Designed for comfort, the bras he was examining were at least 3/8 inch thick throughout the entire cup. "Hmmm, maybe she's only an A+ cup size. Wonder why a plastic surgeon uses padded bras?" Leaving that mystery to be solved later, Robert continued his search. There was no hidden evidence. Ending his search at the dresser, he quickly filled a duffel bag with the best of her undergarments, stockings, and sleepwear.

Patricia's closet was packed with beautiful suits, dresses, gowns, everything a woman dreamed of. Robert decided to pack what he could to help the good doctor get ready for her 'escape'. At the rear of the closet, Robert found a fireproof safe well-secured in the wall behind a row of long, designer gowns. "Oh, boy," he muttered. "If I had missed this, we would be so screwed. I can't handle this myself. Gotta get the nice lady doctor to help out." Fortunately Robert had sufficient time before the doctor arrived to decide how to handle this unforeseen problem.

Robert then threw Patricia's jewelry and valuables into his last duffle bag. All together, Robert moved 15 of the heavy bags, filled with the doctor's files and possessions, downstairs to his van.

On return trips from the van, Robert lugged in the rest of Plan B. He brought in 10 five-gallon jugs full of gasoline and 10 incendiary charges with timers. They were placed four in the basement and three each on the ground level and the second floor. As each was set down in a somewhat concealed position, he carefully added 30 hours to the current time. That set all 10 of the devices to go off at 3:00 on Saturday morning.

Everything was finished in the house by 10:00. Since the doctor was still out enjoying her evening, Robert felt he had time to search the kennel for Doctor Kay's pet. "Instead of confronting her in the entry, I will stun her as she gets out of her car," Robert decided.

He quickly moved toward the garage and kennel. His target building was identifiable by the series of woven wire runs behind it. This door was locked; but, Robert had no keys that fit as the structure had been built after Steve delivered Marie Mathis to the doctor.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 08 – Puppy Love (or Aaron's Blood Boils Over)

Rather than jimmy the lock on the kennel, and possibly leave a trace of his visit, Robert simply ran around the building and climbed over the chain-link dog run. "Wonder why she didn't have tops built over the runs? It would stop prowlers like me," he asked himself. To get inside he just crouched down and crept inside through the large-size doggie door.

The kennel was dark and gloomy inside. He could make out three sets of cages, each with their own opening to an outside dog run and a latched chain link door. His run was vacant and the latched door had no lock. He carefully lifted the latch and silently moved into the room. Nothing in the next pen either.

At the last run, Robert stopped. He could barely make out the form of a naked woman lying on a rubber mat within the 4-ft by 6-ft enclosure. It was dark, but he could see that there was some kind of leather hood over the hog-tied girl. "This has gotta be her pet, the former Marie Mathis." He then quickly flashed his flashlight across her body. He nearly gasped in shock at what he saw.

"Holy mother of God! May you burn in hell Patsy baby." Robert could barely control himself looking down at the disfigured thing that was in front of him. He muttered to himself, "Doctor Kay must be a real piece of work."

Since a hood obviously covered her eyes, he used his flashlight to more leisurely examine the girl and her surroundings. A brass plaque on the pen's door proclaimed that the girl was 'Puppy'. He sighed, "And your predicament never really changed anything for that cow Patricia. She is still in big legal problems due to her greediness." His roving light revealed that her door latch was obviously beyond the reach of the disfigured girl.

He would only later discover the full extent of what the evil doctor had done to exact her revenge against the nosy and determined insurance investigator. As a highly skilled plastic and reconstructive surgeon, Doctor Kay had everything she needed to rebuild her nemesis into a real pet. Puppy's body had been morphed into something too non-human, too grotesque to easily fit within society again.

Robert couldn't help himself; he laid his backpack down on the concrete floor and opened the latch on the pen's door. He walked in and crouched down next to the girl. Her elbows were yanked behind her back by a short chain connected to elbow cuffs. From the middle of this chain, another chain ran down her body to her ankles. While not extreme bondage, Marie was far from comfortable in the helpless hogtie. Robert could see many of the modifications that the cruel Doctor Kay had subjected her pet to. Ignoring her appearance, he ran his hands softly down her smooth naked body.

Marie twitched violently as she felt the unexpected caress. Marie knew that she was not a pain slut. Over a year ago, Doctor Kay had explained the entire process of her 'conversion' to the shocked captive. Doctor Kay wanted to abuse, humiliate, and dominate the girl with no chance of her ever getting any sexual satisfaction. Pet was viciously abused – beatings, whippings, painful bondage, and constant humiliation were to be her role in life. In a year, she had not felt anything positive like the few minutes of caressing she now felt. Marie knew it could not be her owner. She wondered who this person was that gently smoothed her skin.

Robert sadly continued caressing the pitiful thing for far too long. He was in danger each minute he delayed. If Doctor Kay returned unexpectedly, he would probably kill her in his current mood.

Unbeknownst to Robert or Steve, after Marie was delivered to her clinic, Doctor Kay immediately started with her long-dreamed about revenge. First, she used a laser to permanently remove every follicle of hair on the unconscious girl's body. Even her eyebrows and the hair on her head were gone forever. She then performed a series of plastic surgeries. First, she desecrated the young lady's nose. After hours of surgery, Marie now had a round, flat, pug-style nose. The look wasn't remotely human; in fact, it was intended to mimic a puppy.

Patricia then sculpted the helpless girl's ears into a much larger size. While the effect might have been elf-like, what Doctor Kay did was to build floppy ears that folded down exactly like a pug.

Doctor Kay had purchased a full set of tattoo tools in preparation for Marie's arrival. Ultimately, she became quite skilled from all the practice she had on poor Marie. Doctor Kay tattooed in the breed's characteristic black muzzle, eye patches, and ears. The doctor tattooed a series of lines across her face to simulate the effect of a pug's loose facial skin. Poor Marie was lucky that Doctor Kay went for a tattooed puppy look rather than the truly ugly loose face folds of an adult pug.

Further down her body, Doctor Kay did more of a conventional modification to the girl's breasts. Even in the dim light, Robert could see what might be full E-cup breasts. Lying mostly on her back, her breasts pouched out on either side of her ribcage. Robert ran his hands one of her sides and felt the huge bulge of her breasts. Even unable to see, or notice, all the extreme changes made by the evil Patricia Kay, Robert was in shock at the obvious changes made to her arms and legs.

Desiring to completely humiliate the nosy investigator, Doctor Kay had definitely crossed the line when she started cutting on Marie's arms and legs. She had removed some of the toes on the girl's feet and surgically altered what was left into dog-like rear paws. Robert ran his hands down her legs and then rubbed her poor feet. It felt like Puppy's ankle and elbow cuffs were riveted on permanently. "At least they are leather-lined, probably over steel mesh from the feel of it," he thought to himself. Robert continued his examination of her hands. His own questing fingers felt round paw-like hands instead of a normal hand and digits. "It's too dark here to tell what the doctor has done to you, … poor thing," he muttered.

Robert couldn't tell during his brief examination of the captive woman, but both of Marie's elbows and knees were altered to limit the range of motion of each joint to a maximum of 90 degrees. Thus, Puppy could no longer extend her limbs, walk upright, or reach and grab anything.

Above the crease of her ass, a short black tail was fabricated and grafted to the base of her spine. Robert thought to himself, "Poor Puppy can probably no longer sit in a chair like a human." He did try and find humor in the situation by wondering how she would look when performing a good 'beg'.

In his pity and shock, Robert never noticed the changes made to her vagina and pussy mound by the vengeful doctor. Using a piercing needle when Marie was fully awake, and without any numbing agents; Doctor Kay made nearly a hundred holes, each with a small gold ring, all the way around her cuntal mound. The effect was as if the binding of a spiral notebook were wrapped around her pussy and labia. Doctor Kay then permanently attached a stainless steel triangular cup that she had fabricated to the thick row of rings – they mated perfectly. The cup was lined with spongy-soft, ½-inch neoprene. The device worked exactly as Doctor Kay intended. Marie could get no sensation to her clitoral area or her pussy through the hard shell. The soft lining prevented any sensation from getting through and focusing on her sensitive nerves.

The shield could not be removed, for either sanitary purposes or urination. The only concession Doctor Kay made was that she cut a series of narrow slots in the face of the cup that allowed urine and menstrual fluid to dribble through. Unless her owner washed her, Puppy's legs and anus stayed pretty gamey. During her menstrual cycle, the Doctor would use a spray nozzle to somewhat flush any crusty build-up between the cup and her cuntal mound.

As he turned to leave, he vowed to somehow get ownership of Puppy and ease her pain. If Robert knew what else Doctor Kay had done to Puppy's mouth and throat, he would certainly have stayed to ambush and slaughter the evil perpetrator.

The last of the modifications hidden from Robert's view were alterations to Marie's mouth and throat. Doctor Kay pierced her tongue and placed in a series of six big, black porcelain pearl-shaped studs. Mercifully, she did medicate Marie before she extracted most of her teeth. Her four molars and four canine teeth were spared; however, each of these were ground down to studs. After taking a series of impressions of her upper and lower jaw, Doctor Kay fabricated an upper and lower tray that smoothly mated with her gums and allowed the studs to nest up into recessions. Once epoxied in place, Marie could only gum food in her toothless mouth. Doctor Kay had capped each gum-colored tray with a soft layer of black rubber. Pet could no longer bite anything – food or her owner. Another side-effect was that between the large black enamel pearls on her tongue, and the soft pads on her gums, Marie could no longer swallow efficiently; she now constantly drooled.

For 'dress-up', Doctor Kay had also fabricated another appliance that replaced the black rubber pads. The two-piece appliance had long, oversized canine teeth. When Puppy wore this device, her mouth couldn't close completely and her lips could not cover the teeth. Thus, she constantly 'grinned' like a real dog.

Doctor Kay also performed surgery on the girl's larynx so that her voice box could no longer make any high-pitched sounds. Grunts, growls, and bark-like sounds were all she was now capable of making. Further, the voice box modifications muted the few sounds she could make. Puppy can't project her gruff 'voice' beyond a few feet.

Puppy had provided Doctor Kay with tremendous pleasure during the past year. Most nights she slept in her owner's bed with the same hog-tie bondage she wore when Robert soothed her with his caresses. In Patricia's bed, Puppy normally laid on her tummy with her tongue rooting in her owner's sweet pussy. Puppy's neck and tongue muscles developed along with her skill at oral sex during a year's worth of nightly tonguing and sucking. She was a 'world-class' cunt lapper. Patricia was so warped that Puppy's oral stimulation provided her the only sexual gratification she needed. Doctor Kay often would lay back naked on several pillows with her legs widely spread. She would then grab Puppy's soft floppy ears and drag her unfortunate little pet up to her pussy. Puppy was simply a bionic version of a battery operated pussy massager/vibrator. With the doctor's hands guiding her head, Puppy knew exactly where to lick. The harder the doctor yanked on her bionic pussy eater, the harder Puppy sucked, chewed, and lapped deep into her aromatic cunt. No power cord was needed and the batteries never gave out.

Robert cradled the bound puppy in his arms and made his way to the kennel's front door. He was in a dangerous mood. The door was alarmed, but the master box was dead and unable to 'notice' the unauthorized opening of the door. He laid the hogtied girl on the sidewalk while he ran back for his bag of burglary tools and her nameplate from the kennel door. Then it was time to return to the doctor's master bedroom.

Robert stood and admired the special beauty of Puppy below him on the soft bedroom carpet. She was still hooded and bound in soft straps. Robert could now see the beautiful artwork that adorned every inch of her body. Her shapely form was inked exactly as a puppy pug would look. He knelt down and gently started to unbind Puppy. He unclipped her elbow chains from across her back and removed the connecting chain running down to her permanently hobbled ankles. He gently stroked her smooth limbs to get circulation going. He pulled Puppy onto her side and placed her hooded head on his lap. Puppy's luscious breasts moved erotically from one side of her chest to the other in the movement. Robert couldn't resist the temptation. His first touch felt good to both of them; her skin was velvety soft, but the breast meat underneath was firm and full. Puppy almost swooned from the unexpected pleasure. She had been denied affection for so long that anything felt almost orgasmic. Her long abused nipples plumped up with blood from the kneading and manipulation. Puppy's limbs started moved in slow, involuntary motions.

Leaving her head on his lap, Robert quietly leaned back to grab a pair of bolt cutters. The cutters made quick work of the short hobble chain connecting the girl's deformed feet. He then, rather more slowly and with extreme difficulty, started removing one ankle cuff. After finally getting through the steel meshed cuff dressed in black leather, he leaned back and rested. While he pondered what to do, he absently continued to massage and knead the still form in front of him. Puppy didn't dare move in case whoever was comforting her changed their mind and returned to the type abuse she was now conditioned to accept.

Minutes later, only one of the four cuffs remained on Puppy. Robert left her right ankle cuff on in case she needed to be restrained, albeit in a much more humanitarian fashion that Doctor Kay would have chosen.

Next, he turned to remove the slave's hood. It was locked into place with small decorative locks. A small pair of lineman's pliers quickly dealt with the thin shanks on the locks. Robert gently unzipped and unfolded enough of the shiny black leather hood to get it started off Puppy's head. He wasn't really shocked to discover that the tattooing continued up, completely covering the girl's head. "Her hair and eyebrows are completely gone," Robert observed to himself as he continued to gently caress Marie. "Shhhh, everything will be alright. I am going to make things a lot better for you," he reassured Puppy who tried to focus her eyes. The bright lights and events of the last fifteen minutes completely overwhelmed the poor girl.

The bedroom's light revealed Puppy's facial surgery to Robert. "You really are a special girl, aren't you?" he asked the girl while disguising his shock at the doggy nose and ears revealed to him. She made no verbal response other than to rub the side of her head against Robert's lap. His cock had been erect since he first set Puppy down on the soft bedroom carpet. Robert gently moved the girl's head from his lap back down to the rug and said, "Let's see what you look like my little pet."

Puppy was thrilled to hear concern and respect in a voice. She warily extended her limbs as much as her deformed joints would allow, still not sure if this was another cruel trick of Doctor Kay. After all, she was still in the witch's bedroom and home. She saw his chest blocking her view of his face while the hands kneaded her breasts and belly, working down toward her midriff. They paused suddenly when the pussy shield was encountered.

"What is the fuck is this! … A chastity belt or some such thing?" Robert thought as he almost reeled in shock from the find. "Is there no end to what that bitch did to you girl?" he quietly asked the tormented girl below him. He saw what he thought were hundreds of small golden hoops connecting the black device against her pubic mound. Only his military training and experience allowed Robert to continue. He again reached blindly beside him for the lineman's pliers while keeping his other hand reassuringly on her belly.

He snipped and snipped, slowly removing clips one by one. Each had to be cut twice and the small section of gold wire remaining in her piercings was then carefully threaded free. Finally, he was complete and he almost fearfully lifted the triangular piece of steel free. It revealed a tattooed pubic mound devoid of hair, but crusted over with smelly, dried deposits. "Oh, girl. What do we do about your hygiene?" he asked while gently looking up to her face. "Don't worry we'll get you cleaned up," he added with a grin.

Robert glanced from her face to his watch. "Damn, another hour gone messing around in the kennel and here," he observed to himself. It was true. The time was now 11:00. "The medical function should end about now," he mused. "Then it's about an hour drive, plus whatever delay she faces at the valet stand."

He quickly pulled out his cell phone and dialed the west coast. "Yo, man. I gotta update for you," Robert announced as soon as Steve picked up the call. He continued, "I'm still waiting for your sister. I think that her movie will be ending soon. Since her cell phone has probably been off, I've not yet contacted her about the new arrangements. To make this a real surprise, I need a little delay. Can you call her and get her to sit down, maybe in the lobby there, and go over old times or something."

Realizing the pressure that Robert was under, Steve quickly replied, "OK, I'll call now and keep calling for ten minutes. If you don't hear back in ten, then I am chatting with her. Once we are done, I'll call back and let you know she's on her way to the surprise party."

"Thanks buddy, and by the way … I found the most adorable little bitch pug puppy tonight. I want to make sure that I can keep her. She has been in a bad situation with her prior owner and I think she would be good for me."

"Ha, ha, ha," Steve chuckled at the other end, "Buddy, if you clean this mess up, you can keep the puppy and whatever else you find out there. This is a big deal to me."

"Got it, I'll hear from you soon," and Robert ended the call. He turned to Puppy and said, "Well girl, I hope you like your new owner. I just adopted you."

She smiled for the first time in more than a year and moved her head toward Robert.

"I hope that means yes. Cause if things work out right, then you might also get to fix things a little bit between you and Doctor Kay."

Puppy started to recoil and a look of concern flashed across her face.

"No, no, little one," he reassured her. "That bitch will never bother you again. If I have my way you can have some payback in a few days' time." He decided that he could really get into touching this fascinating creature and his hands just wouldn't stop their caressing motions over her voluptuous body. "Stay put," he ordered and moved into the bathroom.

Robert found some bath beads beside the oversized tub and added them to the water as it started to cascade in from the golden faucet. While the tub filled, he moved back to the bedroom and peeked out the window. His clock now indicated 11:10 and the cell phone remained silent. "Maybe we have some time to get you clean and become acquainted," he said turning to Puppy who was staring at him with her dark eyes. Her pug-like features made her look a little sad.

Puppy could not believe the sensation of the warm sudsy water as he gently lowered her down into the tub. It was the first time she had felt warm water in over a year. The bath was to be the first time she was clean since the tattooing ordeal ended. She silently watched while the man carefully placed his cell phone, what looked like a gun, clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, and towels on the vanity counter. He quickly stripped off his clothes. She observed his trim, but nearly heavy, muscular build. The man's cock was erect and when bent up, she thought it might hit his belly button. "Damn, he's big all over," she thought with delight. The disfigured and crippled Puppy had not received affection or an orgasm for at least 14 months.

Robert stepped into the warm and aromatic tub and slid down alongside his new pet. His hands quickly took possession of her body and started caressing her. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and said, "Baby, my name is Aaron." "Shit," he thought I just blew it and told her my real name. Three alternate identities thrown away in an instant."

Robert reached up and firmly grabbed her head between her hands. "Little one, this is not a threat; but, you gotta realize that my true name is Aaron. It was love at first sight back there in your pen. I only hope your temperament is a sweet as it looks to me."

Actually, Marie Mathis had been anything but sweet. As a young, and very bright, investigator in a cutthroat business dominated by men, she was tough, determined, and persistent; hence her run-in with the evil doctor. At twenty-six, Marie had focused everything on her job. She had hoped that success from exposing Doctor Kay would give her a golden key in the insurance investigative business. Puppy's last birthday was uncelebrated and lonely as the abused slave of the woman she had hoped to throw in prison.

Puppy was no longer the confident and self-sufficient woman she was 14 months ago. She happily squirmed against Robert's chest and her paws clasped his chest pulling them together. Puppy's muzzle opened, and her tongue started to lick and kiss her new Master's face while her legs slid over his waist.

"Crap, wait here, I forgot something Puppy," Robert startled Puppy with his violent movement and water splashed all over the bathroom. "I just forgot to douse the bedroom lights in case she gets here unexpected." Robert quickly turned off the bedroom lights and fully opened the bedroom's drapes. He then opened both full-sized doors into the bathroom and moved toward some candles on the sunken tub. "Might as well get some mood lighting in here, … and don't worry about that bitch's bathroom floor. She will never worry about this place again."

With that, he turned out the bathroom lights as well. A soft flickering glow now filled the room. He slid back into the tub and said. "First things first girl, ... open up so I can brush your mouth clean. My guess is you haven't been clean in a long time."

Puppy nodded her head and dutifully opened her mouth wide. Her modified jaws and tongue were now exposed. Robert still didn't know about the vocal cords, although he was starting to suspect something from her continued silence; and, he had no idea her joints were no longer fully functional.

Robert saw the array of black porcelain pearls covering Puppy's tongue and the toothless bridgework that adorned her mouth. He murmured, "Poor, little puppy, … you really have had a hard time."

She slightly nodded her head up and down in response.

"I want to see your tongue better. Hold it out as far as you can and try not to gag," he directed his little pet.

She felt both his hands explore both the top and bottom of her tongue. Then she felt a strong tug as his fingers grabbed a stud from the top and bottom. His hands twisted in her mouth, moving from side to side.

"Yes, these things have a threaded base. That's the first one," he said with some triumph. Robert then continued to take out all of the awful studs, leaving only one near the tip of her tongue. Then he felt all around her gum line to be sure that the dental bridgework was permanent. "There are no teeth under this are there?" he asked as his hands were came out of her mouth.

Puppy shook her head no. She saw that he took everything in stride. He grabbed a toothbrush and dabbed toothpaste on it. Without another word, he held her lower jaw and brusquely and vigorously cleaned her mouth and tongue with the bristles. He let her rinse her mouth with water and directed her to spit it back into the glass.

"Now, where were we? Ahh, yes. Cleaning my smelly little Puppy." His happy voice dispelled any lingering thoughts that he might start to find her repugnant – the doctor constantly harped upon her ugliness and unacceptability to humanity. He grabbed a washcloth and doused it with liquid soap. "Time to clean the rest of you, my sweet," he said.

To Puppy it was like being reborn in heaven. She was warm and getting clean. Master's hands felt wonderful briskly rubbing her skin with the bubbly cloth. Her pelvis arched forward against his hand as the roaming cloth started to scrub away the crusty buildup around her pussy. It circled and circled, moving blood into her labia while she became clean for the first time in many months.

Robert set the cloth down and slid out of the tub again. Like before, water slid of his muscular body, drenching the floor even more. Naked he crouched down before the first vanity and searched through the drawers and shelves. He found what he wanted and got back in the tub again. "I want you squeaky clean; inside, and out," he proclaimed as his hands displayed two boxes containing feminine douche kits.

Puppy's face flushed and she thought, "I can't believe that I still have some prudishness left after what that bitch has put me through." She could also feel the blood flowing into her pussy, engorging her lower lips. "God, I wish he would just fuck me," she though wantonly to herself.

Moments later she, was crouched naked on the floor; dripping suds everywhere as he threw towels at her from the bath's linen closet. She felt herself covered in soft, fluffy bath towels and then he vigorously started to towel her dry.

Robert was in a hurry. He was worried about Patricia coming home any time and he was dreadfully horny. He was also completely focused on the form crouched down under him. "Her limbs won't extend," he thought to himself. He added, "Doctor Kay will have to fix that before I deal with her. This entire operation has been 'seat of the pants'. So much for prior planning."

He left the girl covered in towels with a quiet, "Stay Puppy," and got the bed ready. The naked girl was just getting comfortable on the soft bed when the cell phone rang. It was Steve.

"I just finished talking with my sister," Steve started right off. "She wasn't too happy about it, but we ended up talking for 30 minutes. Is her surprise ready yet?"

"Well, you know how you have to adjust things," Robert replied. It turns out my Puppy is housebroken, but she is really wounded from poor treatment. I think that we need to persuade your sister to help me out tomorrow doing a little puppy training. You will need to reassure her in the morning that everything is going according to plan and will work out in her best interests. Let her pick a place to re-locate to; and, maybe dream a little about getting set up again. You know, maybe a beach house in a nice warm climate, a new job, brimming bank accounts, and all that."

Steve was now a little hesitant. "I think I see what you mean, … but, can you make it work out?"

"Oh, yes," Robert replied. "I think a short period of mutual cooperation could net us all quite a profit. You know, I could help her empty her fireproof safe and then transfer her accounts to a new locale. Maybe you can think of some tropical places she might appreciate?"

Steve understood immediately. "Yes, … it would be best if sis had a nice nest egg to get her on her way. Yes, … nice work my friend. Enough said, you've got one hour to get ready for the big event, … and a complicated production it will be." Then he cut the connection with a curt, "Later."

Robert grinned and then leered as he turned to Puppy. "Almost and hour then," and he jumped under the covers.

Puppy felt the bed lurch and his warm body covered hers. He covered her face kisses and his teeth gently nipped the sensitive skin of her neck. The lovely feeling moved down to her breasts. Puppy felt his lips nuzzle the mounds of her breasts and then center on her tender nipples. "His hands feel so good," she told herself. "He is both tender and forceful," she quietly sighed – the most human sound she was capable of making from her tortured vocal cords.

She was correct. Robert was getting rough; after all, he was on the verge of loosing control. His hands roughly mauled her full breasts while his mouth sucked and pulled at her nipples. He hadn't really stopped anywhere long on his journey across her body and he kept moving; down, further toward her center. "I just gotta taste her nectar," he thought with a wry grin at the corny phrase.

Puppy felt his hands move from squeezing the narrowest part of her waist, to under her hips, and toward her ass. Then his hands each enclosed one of her nether cheeks and her groin was yanked up against his extended tongue. She felt his lips curl around her hairless labia and start a gentle suction. He never stopped sucking and licking his way around her cunt. Her muscles felt limp from the heat of the tub and her arousal. Then, her heart almost burst as her languid feeling disappeared abruptly. "He's got my clit," she silently screamed. Her elbows hit the mattress beside her and helped lift her pussy further into the air; pussy lips grasping for his face. She needed something inside her fast.

Robert was thrilled at her responsiveness. He was afraid that she would either be sexually destroyed from Doctor Kay's abuse or just not want him. Knowing that time was slipping by, he decided to hurry things up. His hands slid down from her rump to behind her knees as he rose up from his hunched position over her pussy. Robert's mouth rocketed up toward her mouth as his hips threw his erect cock toward her waiting pussy.

Puppy felt him quickly shift his body, and several things happened at once. Her legs were pulled up toward her ears, opening her pussy and further raising her ass. Then his tongue was in her mouth dancing with her tongue. She tasted her own juices and started to get giddy from the speed of things happening. Then her head arched back and she howled as his swollen cock found her aching pussy.

Like with Veronica those months ago, Robert's cockhead was stuck. Only this time it was stuck only head-deep in a hot, velvety cunt that was clasping and sucking, trying to draw him in. Unlike Veronica's rape – Puppy was already ecstatic. She could feel his hips rotating around, swiveling his plum-sized head around her stretched labia. Her cunt was actually drooling. Puppy needed that cock and in her wide-open position was powerless to rise up to engulf it.

Robert felt the eager bundle below him writhing her hips as best she could. There was little else she could do, given that she was pinned down and spread wide open. None of his lower body was resting on the girl except for the knob of his dick. He continued to swivel his hips widely; but, he started to exert more and more pressure. His aching cock was forcing its way into the wet and grasping hole. There was no need to withdraw to wet his cockmeat. Her cunt was drooling copiously, lubricating his way. Finally, he was all the way in. Puppy was flailing around below him, making cute grunts and groans. It seemed her first howl removed her reticence about vocalizing.

Puppy was overjoyed at the sensations his cock made as it forcefully spiraled its way deeper and deeper into her pussy. She felt his pubic bone hit hers and she wondered that it all fit so well. For a few more moments, his entire rod continued to stir around her vagina as his butt twirled around above her raised pussy. Then, she felt his upper body lift away from her face and the long cock started to rub against her pussy as it started to stroke in and out. At first, it was slow and almost soothing. Then, he ever so slowly gained momentum and her nerves began to ignite from deep inside her body, up through her cunt, and to her clit itself. "Ugh, … Ugh, … Ugh," she grunted in time with his now relentless plunging. She howled again as her long ignored pussy short-circuited and began to spasm endlessly as she orgasmed again, and again.

Robert heard the howling below him simultaneous with sharp contractions that milked and yanked at his pistoning cock. "God! Her pussy is tighter than any ass I've ever been in," he wondered. Then, he lost control and his grunts also started to match his rhythm. "Yes, yes, yes, … oh, baby! This is the best ever. Yes, yes, …" Then he released her knees and grabbed at her ass as hard as he could while his spurting cock did its final grind against her pussy.

Two perspiring forms collapsed under the silk sheets in Doctor Kay's bed. Robert continued to gasp while he surreptitiously glanced at his watch. He observed that only 30 minutes had passed. "Puppy, stay here and rest! I trust you to stay and enjoy this luxurious bed. Please don't disappoint me while I get ready to neutralize that bitch Doctor Kay."

Puppy observed that her lover's voice drifted from soothing and sweet to cold and vicious as he got to the part about Doctor Kay. She thought to herself, "I'll do whatever you want, especially if you get her out of my life."

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 09 – The Proposition (or A Deal With the Devil)

Robert Morgan, aka Aaron Clarke, stood hidden in the shrubbery beside Doctor Patricia Kay's garage and the home's rear entry. Her estate door was locked, but the alarm and phones had been disconnected. Robert was stewing in a barely controlled rage about Doctor Kay's treatment of what was once Marie Mathis, the medical fraud insurance investigator. Given Robert's recent activities and his upcoming plans, he was being more than a little hypocritical. However, he truly felt Doctor Patricia Kay did things out of evil and held no respect for anyone except herself.

The crunching of gravel on the drive as a car came up the hill interrupted Robert's thoughts. The car's lights momentarily swept across his position and then the car paused not far away while waiting for the garage door to open. Robert readied his new, $400 taser and prepared to safely subdue his victim.

Doctor Patricia Kay came out of the garage and moved toward the house. Even in the dim light, Robert could tell her body was a testament to her profession – plastic and reconstructive surgery.

Patricia fumbled with her purse looking for her keys. Robert kept this simple; he silently came up behind her and fired his taser from three feet away. She never stood a chance. Doctor Patricia Kay slid lifelessly to the ground. The taser darts embedded themselves deep in her back, easily penetrating her thin clothing.

Robert ran up and felt for a pulse. After unlocking and opening the entry door, he picked up the helpless woman and carried her into her living room. There he quickly and painlessly bound her onto one of her comfortable chairs. He then latched a new $700 dog training system around her lovely, albeit lifeless neck. The system featured computer-controllers in both the collar and handheld unit. The operating range was up to a mile. Up to four collars could be trained / controlled simultaneously. Robert set the bark / sound control to the absolute lowest setting. He also set the collar at its highest shock level. If the collar moved beyond 100 feet from the handheld, then it would continuously shock the wearer. Robert then punched the equivalent of a pause key (a function that essentially turns off the unit for a temporary correction – the next pressing of the button would restore full power and programming). Only a deactivation key would safely remove the system.

Robert Morgan then sat down in front of the beautiful blonde and caught his breath. After a few calming breaths to wash away his murderous rage, he was ready. He picked up a washcloth and moved over to the doctor. It only took a moment to jam the cloth tightly into her mouth with one hand and crush an ammonia capsule under her nose with the other.

Doctor Kay twitched violently and started to choke and snot drooled out of her nose. For a moment or two, she was disoriented and her eyes watered. Soon though, the intelligent doctor sat and stared at Robert.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, you mother-fucker!" she started to screech at Robert. He held the remote unit in from of her face and pressed the button. Abruptly her eyes bulged out and her mouth opened wide. She was silent for seconds as the shock slowly subsided. She sat there with her mouth open and throat convulsing like a fish out of water.

"Quiet! Bitch! I do the talking and you only speak when told so. If you understand, nod," Robert snarled quietly to the terrified woman.

Doctor Kay quickly realized the significance of the controller held in the man's hands. She glared at him, but could do nothing to punish the scoundrel.

"Got your full and undivided attention now?" Robert added in a calmer voice.

Doctor Kay slowly nodded.

"Good, cause I don't want to fuck around here. I will make you an offer in about five minutes. You will get two chances to decide your answer. The first will be the easy way – after our five minute discussion. If you can't decide, then your second chance will be tomorrow morning after some serious torture." Robert paused and looked into her eyes. "Nod if you understand that you have to make a choice in five minutes.

Doctor Kay again nodded, although with a little more uncertainty than the last time.

"OK, we will proceed," Robert said. He then continued, "My name is Robert Morgan. I mean you no harm. In fact, I've actually come to help you out. Nod again if you understand that I have come to help you."

Doctor Kay nodded.

"This is slow because it's important. You will see why in a minute. I am a partner to a man you know well, a Mr. Steve Austin."

At that name Doctor Kay's eyes grew large and round. She started to struggle a little.

"Hold it or get another shock," Robert threatened. "We already know everything about your continued insurance scam and the renewed investigations into your medical practice. Patricia, it is time for our organization to move to protect itself. Rather than kill you, or punish you with enslavement at some mining town in Guatemala, we would prefer to continue to enjoy our mutually beneficial medical relationship. Frankly, Doctor Kay, we need you and are willing to work hard to keep you safe, rich, and happy. However, your life here in Miami is over with as of now. A long speech. But it is necessary. Do you still understand the most important parts? Safe. Rich. Happy?"

Doctor Kay nodded.

"Doctor, I am going to set this controller on pause. If you get out of control, we return to punishment mode before we continue," Robert calmly explained. "Follow my lead!" In full view of the doctor, Robert pushed the button and an indicator light beside it glowed red while the adjacent green light went out.

Robert waited patiently to see what Patricia would do. "Good, girl. The easy way it is. Here we go, … Steve and I have decided that we will let you select the Caribbean location of your choice and we will help you relocate. Additionally, we will help you find and setup a fully equipped clinic for you and arrange hiring and relocation of new staff that you select. Do you understand?"

Doctor Kay hesitantly said, "Yes," in a quiet voice. But, what is it you think I have done to set this off?"

"Come on Patricia. Don't be coy. The authorities will grab you for questioning any day now. I'm sure the proper warrants and subpoenas have already been set before a magistrate for signature. By Monday, you will be on your way to a long jail term and public humiliation. You are too weak to resist ratting us out in those circumstances. Thus, your offer. Go ahead and talk." Robert kept the conversation measured, and attempted to convince the surgeon that she has a chance to live and thrive in another setting.

"You will help me?" she repeated.

"Yes, Patricia, we will help you. You still have three of your minutes left. I am going to hold a cell phone up to your ear. You have two minutes to discuss this with your old pal Steve. He will back up what I say." With that, Robert walked over and as the phone dialed, placed it against her ear.

Several minutes later, the conversation ended. Patricia had some of her old confidence back. She looked at him and said, "Let me loose and we can finish this."

Robert smiled and nodded. "OK, just keep in mind that you are on parole." Robert cut her free "The collar stays for now. We have a lot to do by tomorrow night. Let's start with the basics. Your new identity will be Rachael Patricia Quaid. Here are your identity papers." With that, Robert passed an envelope across to Patricia.

She opened the envelope and saw a Florida driver's license, a new social security card, and a passport. Patricia raised her eyebrows when she saw her picture, "A redhead?" she asked archly. Putting them aside, she picked up a new savings account passbook from a bank in the Grand Cayman Islands. The balance read $200,000. Patricia gasped, and started to cry, "I thought you guys were lying about helping me. You really are going to help?"

"Yes, Patricia. You are a great plastic surgeon. We do value the benefits you bring to our organization more than the risk of losing you. I have to say this is your last chance to stop this highly visible and greedy behavior. There will be no other chances. Next time, you will get no second chance. How about a human toilet in some torture camp in Honduras?" he gently taunted to girl. "You cross us once, and its over. Now here is what we have to do." With that, he handed over a printed card with short notes on it and proceeded to talk through each item on the list.

o Your new home will be in the Caribbean

o You pick any island not a U.S. possession

o Steve will get your medical license and professional papers

o We will move your liquid assets to your new account

o The Grand Cayman account is only temporary

o It is not in Rachael's name; only Patricia's

o Saturday you fly with me to Grand Cayman

o We close out one set of bank accounts and move the cash

o The cash will go to another bank in Rachael's name

o I will stay with you for one month to help you get settled in

o Anything within reason will be provided

o You will be respectful and not cross us

o You leave this house tonight, never to return

o Leave everything behind except what I have already packed

"Do you understand, Patricia?" Robert asked again.

She hesitated. "Yes, I think I understand. Please, let it sink in though."

"No, Patricia, this is it. Time to decide. Will you accept this deal and fully assist us in getting it going?" Robert formally asked the question.

"Yes, I see I have no choice. It is generous. Is that all?"

"No. There are a couple of fine points. First, you can't relocate with a slave. We will agree to provide you a replacement any time you decide. I'm sure you can think of someone to punish as you did to Puppy. It will be a no fee job, from anywhere in the western hemisphere. No argument on our part. Is that acceptable?"

"I don't know," she stammered. "What about my pet?"

"She is now property of the organization and no longer your concern. There is more. We go to your clinic early tomorrow morning and you will discover a plumbing and electrical problem. Your staff will be given the day off. Then you will perform certain surgery on your pet before we take full control of her. You will do as I ask in this matter. Do you agree to this?"

"At this point, I couldn't care less about the little slut. I am bored with her anyhow. So, yes, I agree," Doctor Rachel Patricia Quaid answered with a little of her self confidence regained.

"OK one last thing. Doctor Patricia Kay was ready to jeopardize our entire operation. For that you have to be punished. It will be formality and not anything too severe. No permanent marks, or anything like that. It will hurt and serve to remind you that this is serious. Do you willingly agree?"

The doctor was now scared again. She was sure that they weren't going to kill her, and they weren't going to enslave her, so what was the deal with a punishment? She did agree, but with lots of mental reservation.

"Your punishment will be now, before we leave. You ready?" Robert asked once again.

"Yes, if I have to," Patricia's voice declared with some fear.

"Take off your dress and lingerie. Climb up on the table. You will be whipped with my belt. You will not speak. Once over, your punishment for past infractions is complete and you start fresh. Fair enough" Robert asked.

The old Doctor Kay never lost control of any situation. This was a scary step. She had no choice. She meekly turned and shyly slid her panties down and pulled her dress over her head. Her lovely slim form turned and she demurely removed her bra. Even fully naked, she remained shy about exposing her breasts; she climbed up onto her dining room table. She made a mouthwatering sight. Clad only in heels and stay-up stockings, she was in perfect condition.

Robert walked over and yanked her ankles apart. "This is to keep your body from moving during the spanking," he told the now frightened girl. He then slipped a noose over each wrist and tied her down on the table. He walked around to her feet and captured them in loops as well. "These are to make your punishment a little more humiliating. I promise though, no scars or permanent injury will mark you. Take your punishment like a man." Robert laughed as he said the last. He then yanked hard on each foot and forced it painfully up her sides to her arms. The left foot was finished off with a similar tie. He then yanked each knee straight out to the side and secured them across the top of the table to the legs below. Patricia looked exactly like a beautiful butterfly pinned to a black display board. Only she was face down, her bright red thatch of a pussy and asshole both displayed.

"Whoa, girl, you're not a blonde. That's a big patch of red hair on that pussy. I think I like that color better than your blonde hair. It will make your identification documents look more original. Wait here, we start in five minutes." Robert said to the bound girl as he hurried upstairs. Puppy was quietly waiting for his return and enjoying the luxury of a bed. Robert told the excited girl that she could witness the first humiliation of her evil Doctor Kay. He also revealed that tomorrow her arms and legs would be surgically repaired and her tail removed. "You have to sit quietly and watch though, Puppy," he admonished.

So several minutes later, a happy Puppy was perched in a dining room chair behind the doctor's bare pussy while her new owner, Aaron, readied the punishment. Robert dialed the pain level down half way and moved in front of Patricia. "Remember, you promised not to scream," he said as he turned the unit on before her horrified eyes.

He then waked around the couch and caressed her bare ass once. Then, he struck the first blow. The doctor screamed, more in shock than pure pain, and the collar punished her. "Guess we have to wait a few minutes for you to recover girl. Toughen up."

The next 15 strikes with the belt systematically covered each of her ass cheeks with a pattern of welts. Then Robert shifted his focus to her upper thighs. Patricia remained silent until the fortieth blow. Then she screamed, "Ahhhh, eiiiiiii." Her voice changed octaves as the controller kicked in. Snot and tears had covered her face as her head flailed silently through the blows.

"Still more to go, my little doctor," Robert assured the girl. He stood back and knelt beside Puppy. His hands caressed her flanks and rubbed her head. He grinned down at the happy girl and winked.

Turning back to what would soon be, at least beginning the next day, Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid, he surveyed the effects of his work. Red lines, blotches, and bruises covered her from just above her knees to the small of her back. "Doctor., it is time to do your back." He then wound up for a series of fifteen brutal slashes across her back. Some of the lashes curled over her shoulders.

Robert walked around and sat beside the weeping girl on the couch. He silently turned off the controller and wiped her face off with a cloth. "Only five more to go," he told her. "You can scream for these, if you wish."

His arm drew back and a wet splat resounded through the room followed by a piercing scream that went on and on. A bright welt appeared that curled around a cheek and led to a direct hit on her cunt. He struck again and Patricia's screaming continued non-stop. The last three were also focused on her cunt. It was over.

Robert kicked his shoes off and took off his socks. He looked back at Puppy and grinned. "You don't want to miss this do you?" he asked in a whisper." There was no chance the sniffling and coughing doctor would hear anything in her noisy misery. Robert then shucked his pants and underwear off in one move.

The doctor never noticed his hands on her battered cheeks. However, her head did fling up in dismay as his hard cock bottomed out in her hot and wet cunt. Robert silently yanked his now slimy and slippery weapon out, positioned the head at the small entrance to her ass, and pushed hard. His cock jammed in to just behind the large bulbous head.

Patricia screamed again. The humiliation and pain were such a shock to the spoiled bitch. She always got her way. Her ass was predictably, … virgin. The head pulled out mercifully and sunk into her pussy again. "Aiiiii," she wailed, "stop, please."

The dick was in full control. Out it went again for another quick pause against her tight grommet, and in it went, deep into her intestine. This time, the cock went fully halfway in. Out once more, to be dipped in her cunt, and this time he made it all the way in. Robert wanted to really break her ass in. He started a short fuck motion with a pause halfway out so he could viciously saw his cock in circles, stirring her bowels. Then he would finish fucking out and then all the way down. The fucking pattern then continued. This continued, battering her intestines and her asshole while maximizing his stimulation. The table shook from the battering motion Robert made against her rear portal. Patricia's ass tore a little and some blood mixed in with the pussy slime on his cock. Way too soon, it was over, and he spurted deep into her bowels with immense satisfaction.

Robert walked away and gently gathered Puppy in his arms. He carried her up and they went to bed. The doctor was left alone in the dark room. Her face was a testament to the punishment's success. Her immaculate makeup and mascara had streaked across her face from the tears, snot, and sweat of the ordeal. Her sheer stay-up hose were in shreds. She slept fitfully, still bound.

As Robert walked upstairs, he made a phone call.

The next day found Puppy happily snuggled in Robert's arms. Robert woke refreshed and excited about the coming day.

Because the night before had gone so well; he decided to take a chance, and drastically change plans for the next five days. A flurry of phone calls the night before had already set some things in motion.

First, the ten incendiary charges were carefully disabled. As the now inert devices were packed in the van, Robert wryly thought, "Talk about trusting too much in what is beyond your control. If this had exploded, we would have been cooked last night; and, just when things were getting fun.

With that, he entered the still dark living room and approached the naked rump and pussy facing him. It had been hard to administer the punishment without overreacting to his desire to humiliate and truly punish the woman.

He walked around and gently shook the fake blonde's head. "Hey, wake up girl. We have a lot of business to do today." He continued to talk quietly as he removed the dog collar that had hurt her so badly the night before.

After her bondage was removed, he helped her up the stairs in a gentlemanly manner. "Go to your guest bedroom and shower up. Anything you need is laid out there. Breakfast is in thirty minutes, sharp. We will meet in the kitchen," he said to the still stiff and stumbling woman. He fought to keep from caressing her naked flesh.

At the top of the stairs, he added, "Oh, the master bedroom suite is off limits for now." With that remark, he scurried into the now forbidden bedroom and began to fold up the large-dog-sized wire kennel in the corner. Puppy looked on, questioning the action. "We have to fool Doctor Kay into thinking you still have only got slave status." He put his hands on his hips and added, "By the way Pet, you look lovely in the morning. You also have the tightest, most talented pussy I have ever seen," he added with a big shit-eating grin.

Puppy wriggled with joy from his remarks. As she knelt on the bed, on all-fours of course, her large E+ titties hung down and heavily swayed from side to side.

As Aaron turned to walk out of the door, he whispered, "If Puppy is really, really good, then I might get her some little pussies to keep for herself. Would you like that?" He left before she could respond.

Puppy lay down on her side and stuffed a leather-covered hand-paw between her legs. The other pressed hard against her full breast. "Does he mean that, … oh my, … how nice," she thought. If Puppy could purr, that's what she would have done as she abused her long-ignored pussy with a now slippery paw.

Robert efficiently cooked the start of a good breakfast. Sautéed mushrooms, onions, and peppers were set aside for later use in omelets. Shredded cheese and cooked bacon and sausage were quickly placed in other bowls along side the range top.

He filled a carafe with just-brewed coffee for the table and added cups, glasses, napkins, and silverware to complete the arrangement. That ready, he ran upstairs with a covered tray for his new accomplice to eat.

Puppy could not believe it. A real meal; and, he was gently feeding it to her. Puppy's muzzle would stay clean while eating a meal for the first time in over a year.

"Sorry to make this so quick," he added, "But, this plan has to start quick. Next stop is the car where you will pretend to be a nice, cowed, doggie."

Minutes later, he was flipping a huge omelet in a pan to undergo its final browning when he heard heels clicking on the staircase. A hesitant Doctor Kay looked at him from the landing.

She looked lovely and refreshed, thanks to carefully applied makeup and well-tailored business attire. "Good morning, Doctor Kay," Robert tried to greet her as cheerfully as he could. "Welcome to breakfast and our first joint planning session."

When the pleasantly surprised, but very wary doctor winched in pain as she sat, Robert looked serious and said, "I cannot emphasize enough that today is your first day in a new and enjoyable life. Do not ever mention last night or your prior actions to me again. They no longer exist."

Once settled, Robert raised his juice glass and formally announced, "This is to proclaim the demise of the evil Doctor Patricia Kay and her resurrection as Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid." He then clicked glasses with her and added, "May we both become rich and happy."

Robert handed Rachael an expensive leather airlines travel bag and said, "This is for your valuables. Your new identity is inside. Now let's go get your jewelry and any important papers in your safe." Robert, of course, had just rummaged through his packed van to find the jewelry stash he had already stolen. It was nicely arranged on the otherwise empty vanity.

The doctor opened the safe without hesitation and loaded her valuables into the satchel. Robert observed lots of stacks of $100 bills dropped into the bag. Soon, it was bulging with loot.

Twenty minutes later Robert started the van's engine and appraised the now bulging soft leather case sitting possessively between the doctor's legs.

Puppy lay quietly in her kennel cage in the back of the van as it started down the drive and away from the horrible estate.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 10 – Preparing for the Caribbean (or Rich, Rich, so Rich)

Robert Morgan, Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid, and Puppy have just left the doctor's estate. It's now Friday morning and Robert and Rachael intend to begin the process of liquidating Rachael's assets.

Robert was speaking as he left the estate's entry gate, "Rachael, as we discussed at breakfast, first stop today is an attorney's office, then your bank, and finally your clinic." With that, he drove Doctor Quaid away from her home for the last time.

Soon, they were sitting in the posh office of a partner in a prestigious Miami law firm. Mr. Larry Stewart had an impressive array of documents in front of him. Steve Austin had wakened him the night before and offered a lucrative commission for working through the night. Two assistants efficiently brought in more documents and coffee.

"Our first order of business," Mr. Stewart started, "is for you to carefully review this and sign, if you agree to the terms.

A two-page document entitled 'Provisory Note" was set before Rachael. Rachael started reading, first with confusion. Then she started to appreciate what was offered. The document outlined the debt Robert agreed to incur to her in return for the right to liquidate all of her properties. The note promised reimbursement for the net sales price of her estate and business in Miami. He would dispose of any personal property left.

"As you can see," the lawyer continued," the note implies that Mr. Morgan will immediately assume ownership of your home, clinic, vehicles, and other possessions at an estimated fair market value. He has made me his agent to dispose of them at the best price possible. If anything is sold higher than that estimated value, you will split the difference with my firm as our incentive fee to get the absolute best price."

"Your home is shown valued at $5.7 million, an increase of eight percent over your purchase price three years ago. The clinic was harder to estimate except that your sale will be a commercial property sale only; you are not actually selling the business itself. A real estate firm in town just faxed me what I believe is a fair assessment at $2.2 million. These numbers are reflected in the version just completed by my aide. If you sign, then Mr. Robert Morgan will owe you over $7.9 million, payable as your assets sell. I assure you madam; this is a binding legal instrument."

An increasingly happy Doctor Rachael Quaid quickly signed the three copies, as did the silent Robert Morgan.

The smiling attorney concluded that part of the deal with," My aide will notarize these. One set is for each of you and the other will be logged by my staff at the county courthouse this afternoon."

"Next are the powers of attorney to move your investments to your bank. This will occur later today." Those documents were also signed and notarized.

"Now, the next business is to actually transfer everything over to Mr. Morgan." Over the next thirty minutes, a bewildered but happy doctor signed sales contracts on her home, business, and vehicles.

The attorney briefly left to compile all the documentation and shred any extra copies. Rachael and Robert would leave with the only copies that existed except for the real estate transactions. The hard drive of the sole computer used to create the documents was wiped clean afterwards. It had never been connected to a network. Larry's law firm knew how to conduct business in as confidential a manner as possible.

Robert pointed out to Rachael that, "You have just protected all your holdings from seizure or being tied up in the courts. I hope you realize you walk away today a rich woman set free from your past legal problems."

"Yes, Robert," Rachael answered sincerely. "I really am thankful that this is working out so well."

"Good," said Robert. "This firm will sell your home, clinic, and your cars. Steve and I thought about eating the twelve percent home and business sales commissions. But, we realized that we could keep it all and let you disappear. You will pay the twelve percent sales commission and a ten percent handling fee for the sale of the cars, furnishings, and artwork."

"But, you will keep the $200 thousand already placed in your islands account. We will help with selecting your clinic site and arrange for employee relocation, given that the authorities would apprehend you if you are found in the states. For the inconvenience, and letting you keep all your money, we will expect $2 million in return business trade. We can talk about that later at your clinic."

The attorney brought in a heaping pile of documents for Robert to sign so the attorney's firm could dispose of the property and directly credit Robert's local account. Robert wryly noted that, "I better deep-six this character as soon as I get Rachael taken care of and all the property money. This leaves far too obvious a trail toward Robert in what could be a large tax-evasion case."

Next stop was Rachael's bank where she emptied some sundry items from a safe deposit box into her satchel. Her accounts were closed out with instructions to wire transfer all funds to her islands account set up by Robert.

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

They pulled up to the service bay behind the clinic at 10:30 in the morning. Clinic hours on Fridays were only from noon till 3:00, with just a few consultations scheduled. The staff primarily worked on catching up on paperwork and restocking the surgeries and various offices in the clinic.

Doctor Quaid knew exactly what to do. She headed for the clinic's front entrance to greet her employees with the news that there was something wrong with the electric power and water services. The first arrival would be handed a printed calendar of the day's appointments and put to work canceling them using Doctor Kay's cell phone.

Robert moved to the clinic's electrical power box and cut the office power, telephone service, and turned off the water main.

For the next two hours, both the conspirators were busy. They met again at 12:20 in a small consultation room and reviewed notes.

Robert had used some of the intervening time to roam through the office. He first moved Puppy and her kennel from the moving van into one of the operating theaters. Several hundred flat boxes were moved from the beige van and scattered throughout the clinic. Then he briefly worked side-by-side with the silent ex-Doctor Patricia Kay, efficiently boxing every paper, file, and media records. Everything was moved into the waiting van.

Soon it was time for Doctor Quaid to help out with Puppy. Rachael was unhappy that her pet had been given breakfast, and before an operation as well. She was tactfully, for her, berating Robert for spoiling the pet.

Finally, Robert just broke into the controlled tirade and said, "Look, do your best. If she throws up, or starts to choke, let me know. Plus, she'll be intubated for the surgery anyway, right?"

With that, Robert strode away to let the doctor do her job.

Robert scurried quickly to his small van and drove to the grocery store and then his warehouse. He unpacked the doctor's personal items, her files, and finally, the groceries. Puppy's temporary new home was quickly set up. She would be alone for several days while he took the doctor to her new Caribbean home.

A quick switch to the truck, and Robert headed back to the clinic with another load of boxes. He planned to take anything moveable from the premises. Drugs, miscellaneous medical supplies, equipment, and the like were packed in the seemingly endless pile of flat boxes. Everything was stuffed into the nearly overloaded truck. The load was ferried back to the huge warehouse, hardly making a dent in the available space.

Robert sat in his warehouse after unloading the stuff pilfered from the clinic. He was tired; but things were going so well. Aaron/Robert remembered the game he played just a little over a week ago with the stewardess he had trapped so well, Ingrid Gaviard.

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

"Ingrid, it's Michael Moore," Aaron said into the phone.

"Mi, … Michael," Ingrid answered with hesitation. "What is it?"

"Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid, you know better than that. Please show some manners. Remember, you promised to meet me again? The last time didn't count because you and Connie got so carried away. It was my room that you two had your fuck-a-thon in. You two took over everything: my champagne, food, flowers, and candles for our romantic night, Ingrid."

"Michael, I would rather forget that night ever happened. Please," Ingrid tried to gain sympathy from the man that she knew of as Michael Moore.

"Ingrid, it is 8:00 PM now and I know you are off tomorrow. You have one hour to meet me at Piccadilly Rose. Do you know where it is?" Aaron/Michael spoke sternly.

"Yes, it's close by my place. I don't think I want to go; another night, please," she tried again.

"OK, Ingrid. No problem. Guess you want to renege on our deal; I'll have to send off those pictures of you fucking a passenger so enthusiastically on your flight. And, in uniform too. You really should watch that hot cunt of yours. Guess that's how you slipped up with Connie. She told me that you practically raped her. A few drinks and you revert to slut mode." Aaron/Michael really rubbed it in.

"Michael, please stop that. Why are you doing this to me?" Ingrid sobbed.

"Here's the deal for tonight. We meet in one hour as I said. But, for your bad attitude, you get two penalties. The first is easy, you show up in a cocktail dress with no underwear. Got that!"

"Yesss, but why?" Ingrid continued to blubber.

"Ingrid, because I want it that way and you owe me. Next, the second part of your penalty. You will stop at a convenience store and buy a dozen condoms. Empty your purse out in the car and come into the bar with only your car keys and the condoms in the bag. You have one hour."

Ingrid starred at the phone in tears. He had hung up after his final instructions. She didn't understand what was going on. The sex on the plane had been fantastic at the end – even though it wasn't her doing, but his. "I think that day kept my cunt so hot, that's why Connie and I, …" Ingrid had to stop. She simply could not vocalize any of the bizarre actions she did that night. The morning after that debauchery, she was stiff and sore, everywhere, "Oh, my poor cunny, butt, and boobies. I think I did the same to Connie. She looked like a gangbang survivor. We must have fucked and sucked all night long. And, all that champagne. Oh, my head hurt for days," Ingrid tried to reconstruct some of what happened, her memories were just too clouded with alcohol (or so she thought – actually Aaron/Michael gave her and Connie a double-dose of their custom kidnap/rape drug.

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

Ingrid timed her entry into the Piccadilly Rose for promptly at 9:00. She didn't want to upset Michael any more than he already was. The bar was quiet as it was early, and only mid-week. There were few people, scattered widely around the club. It was normally a meat market kind of place on Friday and Saturday nights. "Not the kind of place I like to come to," Ingrid thought. Despite the lack of a crowd, the DJ kept the songs coming, and loud. The nightclub was dark with lots of places to lurk in.

Michael stood and waited while Ingrid come over and sat down. He leaned down and gathered her chin in his hands for a long, spine tingling kiss. "I remember that you like Margaritas and got you two." Michael said. "Oh, and you look lovely tonight."

Ingrid did look gorgeous. She had a sheer black cocktail sheath, obviously meant for a half-slip and camisole top. In bright light, the short dress would be obscene. However, the dim light hid her near nakedness under the dress. Her dark hair was luxurious and brushed full on top of her head. She sat and gulped at her giant Margarita. She sat silently to see what he had in mind. His hand slid up her thigh and quickly dipped between her legs to confirm she followed his directions. "Oh," she chirped in surprise as his fingers dug deep into her already drooling pussy. Two, then three fingers wormed hard and deep into her core. Her legs were spread under the onslaught and she leaned back against the upholstered seat. "Stop, there's no tablecloth here," she hissed.

Michael yanked his hand out and grabbed her face with the slimy fingers. "You better watch your attitude. I expect instant obedience and real enjoyment on your part. When you are with me, you better smile and act a natural slut-bunny, Piggy. If you fake it, you suffer. Better get into it, bitch," Michael sounded irritated; but he was laughing at the poor girl's predicament. He finished by wiping his hand on her face. "Give me your purse, now!"

The tiny black sequined clutch purse was almost empty. Just her keys and a box of condoms were inside. Michael took the condom box out and placed it on the table. Without attempting to hide his actions, he opened the cardboard container and pulled out the roll of condoms. He then ripped each foil square free of the coil and threw the dozen individual wrapped condoms into her bag. The keys were surreptitiously palmed and moved to his pocket.

"Finish your second drink. Then we'll go," Michael said. "I want a quieter corner seat."

Moments later, he and a slightly unsteady Ingrid stood beside a small table in a distant corner of the nightclub. Michael ran his hands down her back and kissed her. His hands pulled up her short skirt and played with her bare ass cheeks. Her back was safely toward the wall. One hand snaked between them and the edge of his hand knifed against her pussy; it was unarguably wet. "Hmmm, no matter how you protest, Little Piggy, you like this," he teased.

Ingrid stiffened at the hateful term. It was so humiliating. "I don't really want to be here, do I?" she asked herself. "He does turn me on so much. Ohh," she moaned and arched her back.

"Hey Piggy, time for your second punishment. Your body tells me you're a slut. Now you get to show yourself – are you a slut or a whore? You have two hours to finish a task. It will be so sexy for you." Michael laughed and dug two fingers deep into her pussy.

Ingrid's back arched again and her hips started to pivot against his fingers, her body slumped against his in pleasure. But, she stiffened in shock at his next words, whispered in her ear. Ingrid started to protest but Michael's pussy-scented hand covered her mouth. He kept talking and Ingrid started to shake in horror, her betraying pussy momentarily forgotten. Michael explained that she had two hours to accomplish one of two tasks. How she accomplished it was her choice. The option was to bring back eight sperm-filled condoms; or, she could fill as little as one – if she brought back $400. She could not leave the club. Then Michael sat down, leaving her standing there with a final, "Slut or whore, you show us now, Piggy."

Ingrid was paralyzed, unable to even cry. It was so impossible. She was a respectable woman with a good career and he wanted her to, whore for him. "Michael, let's try another punishment. Maybe I can give you a blowjob or you can spank me or, …" she stopped at the emotionless expression on his face.

"Next time you better follow directions better, Piggy," Michael said. "The clock is ticking, get going."

Ingrid walked toward the bathroom to compose herself. "Shit, shit. What do I do? How do I do this? That bastard can ruin my life with those pictures." The bathroom was deserted. It was a slow night at the club and only a few men were there this early in the night. "Maybe the bar, I can get a guy to dance with me."

Ingrid carefully slid herself onto a bar stool and scoped out the pickings. Nobody looked like her type. Just a couple of depressed looking nerdy guys staring at the female bartender. Ingrid noticed she was a hot young thing, "No wonder the guys are staring at her ever move."

The blonde bartender came over and appraised Ingrid before she asked, "Lady, can I get you something?"

Ingrid declined to order a drink and sat clutching her purse tightly. "How to do this?" she thought again. "Slut or whore, … that bastard."

A man across the bar beckoned the bartender over. Moments later, a tall drink sat before her. "The man at the end of the bar ordered this; it's a Long-Island Iced Tea, a double."

Ingrid left it sitting on the bar and smiled at the distant man. He was hard to see in the gloom of the nightclub. She squared her shoulders and decided. Taking the drink, she walked around the bar to the man. He was short and stocky. Not fat or ugly; he was just plain and nondescript. She sat her drink down and whispered in his ear, "Thanks for the drink, honey. I will enjoy it after we dance a little, let's go."

Aaron/Michael watched Ingrid go into action. "She may be reluctant, this might be her first time, ... but she is a natural slut. My bet is she goes for the eight condoms." He was enjoying himself. Ingrid slid into a tight embrace and a slow dance. The song was way too fast for what she was doing. Michael saw Ingrid's hand move the man's hand to her crotch. "Fast work girl," Michael laughed.

Ingrid was in a hurry to get this over. She put the man's hand against her cunny and ohhed and ahhed into his ear. With her heels, she was the taller of the two. She grabbed at his dick through his pants. It was hard. Ingrid yanked his hand and hurried toward the rest rooms, she knew the ladies' room was empty. Without a word, without knowing his name, Ingrid sat him on a toilet seat and shut the door behind them. She set her purse on the tile floor and faced the dazzled man. With a little bump and grind, she slid her shoulder straps down her arms and exposed her breasts. Her arms folded under her full tits and she wriggled them at his face. Ingrid stepped out of the dress and hung it on the door's purse hook behind her. Naked she straddled his lap and thrust her tits into his face.

The guy was in shock. This gorgeous chick nearly raped him on the dance floor and now was naked and grinding on his cock like an addict craving drugs. It felt great. He watched as the babe slid down to her knees and opened his pants. He raised his ass, and his pants were down on the floor, draped around his shoes. His boner was so stiff, it bobbled and the air as his heart tried in vain to pump in more blood.

Ingrid was on autopilot. She tried not to think about what she was doing. The condom rolled on with practiced ease and she was straddling his legs, guiding his short, very fat cock into her dripping snatch. "Cock, cunt, snatch," she whispered aloud. "Oh, you are a whore Ingrid. You are a whore." She spoke to herself; but the man heard her moaning voice.

He was in unexpected heaven. Within ten minutes of seeing her sitting at the bar, his dick is buried up her hot cunt. He hated his bastard, whore of a cock as it started spurting before he could even get into the sex. He moaned and gasped as the bitch passionately ground her pussy down on him. "God, we never exchanged names," He wondered.

Ingrid felt him spurt with glee. "That's one down; I bet he goes another round." She pulled off his lap and freed the condom. It was quickly tied off and thrown into her purse. Her teeth nipped another condom from its foil and then swallowed his limp and slimy cock in one stroke. She never even grimaced as the salty taste threatened to overwhelm her tastebuds.

"The bitch just sucked me in like a vacuum cleaner," the man watched in amazement as she desperately sucked and licked his dick clean. She drew her dark hair from over her face so the man could see her sucking on his cock. The depravity of the situation made his pelvis swell and his cock twitched. Encouraged, Ingrid again straddled his lap from the other direction and leaned down painfully far to suck his stiffening cock. She then pushed her cunt into his face. "Lick me you fucker," she moaned and then deep throated him again. She felt his hands strongly grab her ass and pull them apart. Then, his tongue was in her oozing slit. "Yessss, yessss, suck my cunt lips into your mouth and pull, bite me, you bastard!" Ingrid hadn't cum yet. It only took a moment for her cranked up system to pop into overload from the deviant act. "Ohh, yes, yes, …" Ingrid wailed and ground her pussy into his face as she came hard and long.

Without respite, she slid down to her knees again and slipped the readied condom onto his stubby shaft. Again she sank down, fucking herself and kissing and sucking on his neck as she started her hips moving again.

This time the man was ready to fuck. His hands grabbed her full titties bouncing in front of his face and latched on, hard. He mauled them and pulled the full globes as far apart as they would go. They bounced together as his hands freed them. Next, her nipples were squeezed and pulled. Her cunt spasmed around his hard cock as he yanked and tortured her nipples and titties. "This bitch can really spin and dance," he watched with wonder as her pelvis kept up a rhythm at least twice as fast as what he could do. He was basically fucking into a hot, wet cunt blender that was gyrating out of control. "You, slut," he whispered, "you're having continuous orgasms."

Ingrid was in lustful bliss, hardly aware of the dingy environment she chose for her first anonymous fuck. Incongruously she thought that, "This restroom smells nasty. Nothing like Michael's suite was when Connie and I, …" she paused as she drifted into dangerous ground as she imagined fucking Connie with those two huge neon cocks. The flush of embarrassment fueled another round of spasms and another orgasm.

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

Ingrid primly sat down back at the bar and sipped her Long-Island Iced Tea. After fucking the man senseless, she again stuck her dripping cunt into his face while she rummaged through his wallet. He had about $400 in it. She took two hundred and informed the fucked out man, "That's one hundred a fuck dear. Unless you want to add a tip?" The man just nodded and with a shrug, Ingrid took another $100. She giggled at the bar, visualizing him sprawled across the toilet with his trousers on the floor and cunt glaze all over his face. "That's $300 already, and two condoms full," Ingrid chalked up her score with another blush of embarrassment.

The bartender languidly wiped the polished wood in front of Ingrid and idly asked, "Where is your boyfriend dear?"

Ingrid motioned to Michael in the corner and belatedly realized she meant the man she just left in the ladies' room. Ingrid giggled again and said conspiratorially, "Actually, my date is that man in the corner. He challenged me to a sort of dare tonight. I am half finished with it now that my 'friend' is finished."

The bartender smirked at Ingrid and said, "Well, well, it's an awfully quiet night for you to be so brazenly playing slut games here."

Ingrid, still flushed from her vigorous sex and the effects of three strong drinks blurted out, "No, no, it's not like that. It's not really a game." She stopped and covered her mouth up.

The stacked bartender just nodded her head and walked away. Her tight top proclaimed to all that this blonde had big tits, and her short stretchy skirt undulated over the movement of her full ass cheeks. She picked up another bottle of beer, a Pacifico, and delivered it herself to the man sitting quietly in the corner. "This one's on me bud," she said as she sat down beside him. "Looks like you got a cunt running scared over there. I'm intrigued." With that, she slid the beer across the table and rubbed his arm. "I'm Sandy Hamilton and I'd like to help. And, I mean in any way I can," she purred.

Michael, still new at this domination game just gawked at the girl a moment and said, "Yes, well, Sandy, that might just be a perfect idea." Michael then explained a slightly fictional version of Ingrid's situation and her task for the night. In Michael's version, she was a submissive slut-bunny who needed some corrective action.

Sandy was amused by Ingrid's plight. "Ha! So, she is submissive," she thought to herself. To Michael she said, "I knew she was a subbie the minute I saw her. You know I like D & S games myself. Like you, I like to top, especially over someone unwilling. And, Michael, I am happy going either AC or DC."

Michael knew he hit gold with this perverted thing. Sandy was only 26 and getting her nest egg ready to head back to the Midwest. She told Michael that getting the lovely, and older, Ingrid to do their bidding would be fun. "Maybe we can tie her up in the manager's office and fuck her together?" she asked.

With a little coaching, Michael sent her back to the bar. Sandy faced Ingrid from her side of the bar and asked, "Well Piggy, did you decide to go for the slut or whore approach?" There was no answer from the flabbergasted woman. "Michael told me everything. I've decided to help you out," she continued and then bent down behind the bar.

Ingrid saw the cute young girl lean down on the working side of the bar. Nobody else could see her except for Ingrid. She was shocked to see the blonde shuck her black thong down her ass and step out of them. Ingrid saw her flip the flimsy excuse for underwear to the bar in front of her. "Wha, what's this about?" she tried to bluster her way out of the situation.

Sandy was in dom mode. "You bitch! Just shut-up! Stand-up and wipe your slutty, drooling cunt on those and stick them in your purse. Now!" she directed at the motionless, older woman.

Ingrid blindly followed the direction. She stood up and stuck the pair of thongs under her cocktail dress and over her sloppy cunt. The panties were now overwhelmingly wet and sure to ruin her purse. In they went. Ingrid then followed the woman back to the empty manager's office. Still in shock, she took off her dress as ordered and laid down on the couch.

Sandy sat down on the woman's face and said, "Suck, bitch. If I don't get off in one minute, then I start spanking your nasty cunt. Lick! Suck! Harder!" Sandy had no problem cumming in less than three minutes. She looked down at the red, gaping cunt and said, "Wait, here. I will get you some customers and keep Michael happy for you." With that, the momentarily satiated bartender strode out of the room, nonchalantly carrying Ingrid's clutch purse and black dress. Ingrid lay in place, naked and humiliated.

Back at the bar, Sandy beckoned a burly bouncer over and whispered into his ear. She handed him the stack of condoms from the purse and watched him proceed to the office. "Guess the bitch has to do the two of us for free; given that we are working so hard pimping her out for the night. After filling a couple of drink orders brought up by the various cocktail waitresses, Sandy saw the bouncer standing dutifully outside the manager's office. With a nod, Sandy went to work.

Over the next three hours, dozens of men went in the office one-by-one. They each paid Sandy $50 and the bouncer gave each a single condom. Each customer earned the right to fill that condom in any orifice of the beautiful girl's overloaded body. Twice more, the bouncer went in and added his own load to a pair of condoms. Each time, he forced the dazed blonde to snort several lines of cocaine. It kept the woman cranked up and fucking a storm. Nobody was unsatisfied. The bouncer practically emptied the condom dispense in the men's' room to keep the fuck machine in the office stocked.

By midnight, the nightclub was as busy as it could get on a weeknight. In fact, some of the men stayed to talk about their luck at getting release from the stewardess forced to whore in the office. They loved the story; soon everyone knew it, even the women customers. The idea of a professional woman forced to accept their fucking was too much. Many of the men took up the opportunity more than once; most had never paid for sex before. Ingrid was high on cocaine, feeling no pain – only seemingly never-ending pleasure.

Just after midnight, a group of guys celebrating their friend's pending wedding heard about Ingrid. They arranged for sole proprietorship of the fuck-bunny for the three hours till closing. At this point, the bouncer had to stay in the office to monitor the situation. Ingrid was fucked by one man, two men, three men, and once had her cunt, ass, mouth, and both hands full of condom-covered fucksticks. By three in the morning, she was unconscious from the constant adrenaline high from cumming and the effect of the drugs. All told, over sixty condoms were scattered about the manager's desk. Sandy added $2,500 to the $300 that Ingrid earned by herself. Michael told her and the bouncer to split $800. He kept the rest, $2,000. Ingrid got a purse jammed full of condoms and a soiled black thong. The purse's silk lining was coated in male and female slime.

Michael got Sandy to drive the still-naked Ingrid home in the fucked-out woman's car. The two met at her apartment and carried the exhausted girl into her bathroom. She was left lying on a comforter in the tub, covered with spent condoms. While Sandy watched, Michael gave Ingrid a syringe of a muscle relaxant and a shot of B vitamins. He wanted her to feel better in the morning; but, unlike the Virgin Islands caper, he wanted Ingrid fully aware of her actions. That done, he and Sandy fucked in Ingrid's bed for the rest of the night. Sandy was horny and ready to fuck after hours of humiliating Ingrid and handling all that pimp money. She was a talented sex partner.

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

Aaron/Michael/Robert shook himself and reflected, "That Sandy was an energetic fuck. I've got to meet her again before she heads home. Hmmm, …" Aaron reflected thinking about things to come. "Well, that's for later," he mused as he started up the truck to return to the clinic. He wanted to get the doctor and Puppy to close out the day.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 11 – Puppy's New Home (or Toys for Puppy)

Doctor Rachael Quaid was resting quietly at Robert Morgan's townhouse. She was under strict orders to remain inside for the weekend. On parole, Rachael knew the slightest infraction on her part would nullify the generous bargain she had with Steve Austin. Now only Friday night, she simply collapsed in a guest bedroom and fell asleep before Aaron (known as Robert Morgan to Rachael) left at 8:00 PM.

At the warehouse, Aaron carefully laid the bandage-swathed Puppy on her new bed. She had been in the truck, only half-conscious, while Aaron moved Doctor Quaid from her clinic to his townhouse for the weekend.

Aaron reflected that Doctor Quaid promised that the relatively minor surgery she was to perform on Puppy would fully restore the normal range of motion in her knees and elbows. About a year ago, Doctor Kay had limited Puppy's knee and elbow extension to something less than ninety degrees in order to keep her pet from ever standing upright again. Anytime Puppy tried to use her arms, the bent elbows made any position look like an extended 'beg'.

Doctor Quaid had also discovered that Aaron had not removed the paws that she had constructed to fit over Puppy's hands. One year ago she had tightly curled her new captive's fingers in a small ball and then enclosed each closely clenched fist in an unyielding stainless steel mesh. Lastly, she had sewn a leather 'paw' over each mesh-covered fist. During the intervening year, Puppy's thumb and fingers had atrophied and suffered significant muscle loss. Aaron had assumed that Doctor Quaid had amputated her fingers in a manner similar to her toes. Not knowing the truth, Aaron had given Doctor Quaid some hair-brained ideas for fashioning some sort of rudimentary prosthetic device. Aaron's concept had been to use spring-loaded 'fingers' set in a partially clenched position, mounted on a leather 'glove' with a Velcro wrist fastener. The concept was that if a can or glass was pushed into the 'hand', it would be grasped by the spring action of the fake phalanges. Rachael had been directed to finish this task over the weekend.

Puppy was comfortably resting in her new bed. She was also well sedated and pumped full of antibiotics. The surgery and anesthesia resulted in none of the expected post-surgery effects beyond a strong thirst and a slight tinge of nausea that quickly passed. Aaron turned on a small lamp in the container's corner and left, carefully locking the barred cage door he had constructed and welded into place. The normal shipping container door remained locked in the open position. "Don't want to trigger claustrophobia in my Puppy if she wakes before I return," Aaron thought with a smile.

Aaron then turned to his locker of covert action gear. Dark clothing, comfortable black footwear, and his burglary tools were assembled quickly and efficiently. He donned a black utility vest with ballistic protection and pouches for his 9-mm pistol, taser gun, stun gun, spare magazines, and a flashlight. A bag of bondage items was already prepared. Aaron was ready.

"It really sucks to be me," he complained to himself. "Steve knows I have no backup to help me and that this is an unplanned, dangerous, piece of shit job. Crap!"

Aaron then drove the beige van out into the muggy Miami evening and drove north toward Fort Lauderdale. "As they say, 'miles to go and no time to sleep'," Aaron paraphrased to himself with the beginnings of a grin. He was full of energy and feeling alive.

Doctor Kay's attorney was in a fancy law firm located right on the Fort Lauderdale beach strip. The ocean side of the road was loaded with high-rise condominiums and apartments. Away from the beach side, the law firm had its own five-storey building with private parking lot. Aaron had carefully quizzed Doctor Kay earlier about the layout and whatever little things she had happened to notice during her visits there.

Aaron sat in the van and tried to determine the best plan of entry. He had several ideas, but wanted to decide after doing a quick surveillance of the site. Back at the warehouse, he had mounted magnetic signs on the van's side announcing that this was a vehicle belonging to a custodial services firm. Fake license plate covers were also magnetically mounted over his regular ones. Brightly colored magnetic accent decals ran down the side of the body, changing its plain beige appearance.

He had little trouble gaining entry to the parking lot. The van pulled up to the right card reader (there were two). A few hits, twists, and pulls with his crowbar, and the front panel popped off exposing the wiring. He simply shorted a power lead to a ground, and drove through. After the gate settled back down, he hung an 'Out of Order" sign on it and drove into the dark and nearly empty underground parking lot. He parked near a stairwell access, rather than adjacent to the glass doors at the formal entry area.

Doctor Quaid assured him that no actual security force was on duty at night. However, there were heavy, locking entry doors and an alarm system. So, no final plan selected yet, Aaron sat quietly and waited. He noticed that only one car was parked just next to the entry, a Jaguar sedan. Several other vehicles were in the garage, but scattered further away. "My guess is that we have one lawyer working late and other members of the law firm away on business," Aaron surmised to himself. He saw a promising spot to conduct an ambush; only a few feet from the glass doors, but behind a large load-bearing pillar.

Suddenly he heard the faint squeal of car tires as someone pulled into the garage. "Shit! Hope the out of order sign fooled them into using the functioning reader," he hoped. Meanwhile, the car, a small, older model, two-door pulled up next to the Jaguar. A cute, probably twenty-something blonde wearing a conservative black business outfit slid out of the car and walked to her trunk. She grabbed several bags and wearily approached the door. The bags were set down so she could fumble in her purse for the keys.

Aaron fired his taser into her back just as she was opening the door. A replacement taser cartridge was snapped into place, and the device was reloaded. Aaron looked down at the disheveled blonde. He grinned as he picked up her limp form and threw her into the van. The mishandling made the poor girl's skirt and slip climb up her legs, revealing shapely thighs covered in expensive hose and lingerie. He took a moment to run his fingers appreciatively across her tight nylon-covered flesh before cuffing her arms behind her back. Just moments after her capture, she lay on her belly in the van, her arms and legs each secured with a set of handcuffs. A third set of handcuffs contorted her body into a hogtie by loosely connecting her arms and legs. A bright red ballgag was forced into her unresponsive mouth and latched tight. A light breathable hood completed her transformation from office worker to potential merchandise.

"Nice," Aaron noted with enjoyment as he quickly ran his hands appraisingly across her body to 'value' his catch. "Looks like Puppy will have some responsibilities soon." The woman's purse and the now unnecessary Chinese food bags were locked in the van with the captive. "Guess my gamble that the working lawyer left the alarm off waiting for her return was a good bet."

Aaron then grabbed his two bags and proceeded into the building, carefully removing the luckless girl's keys from outside the door and locking it behind him. He quickly scouted through the building. All the ground floor offices were empty and dark, many locked. The same was true with the second and third floors.

Doctor Kay's attorney was a Nathanial Itzell Archibold. His offices were on a fourth floor corner suite. The office was lit and the entry vestibule door open. Aaron bypassed the area and continued checking to be sure the rest of the fourth, and then the fifth floors were deserted. Other than the Archibold suite, the building was devoid of life.

Aaron approached Nathanial Archibold's offices with caution. He heard voices, a man and a woman. "Just my luck, a freaking convention or something," Aaron muttered to himself. He sat patiently to be sure there were only the two inside.

The male, he assumed it was Archibold, was cursing the District Attorney's office for being so stubborn about something. Aaron soon realized they were talking about a potential plea arrangement and the State's demand for knowledge of the full scope of Doctor Patricia Kay's proposed cooperation. "Don't they know it's too early for Doctor Kay to spill the beans about her contacts?" the lawyer raged. His assistant was silent during this outburst. He quieted down enough to continue dictating a memorandum to what was obviously the secretary.

Deciding he had heard enough to ascertain he would face only two surprised adversaries, he crept into the anteroom and shot the lawyer full in the chest with the taser. The twin taser heads, propelled by a gas cylinder, burrowed deep into his chest. He immediately convulsed from the high-impedance discharge and flew backward onto his desk. Aaron grabbed his stun gun and leapt at the startled secretary. Her eyes never left her ex-boss' body, even as Aaron jammed the stun gun hard against her back and pulled the trigger. Almost 625 thousand volts of high frequency energy pulsed deeply through her muscles. The vicious charge depleted her blood sugar, converting it nearly instantly to lactic acid. The neurological impulses also traveled throughout her body, interrupting muscle movement, causing disorientation and loss of balance.

The attack had been quick and silent. He surveyed his latest two victims. The girl was very young and cute, especially in the manner of all youthful girls. Aaron decided that he had to set up a quick interrogation scene to convince the lawyer to cooperate. Instead of cuffing and hogtying the secretary, he roughly yanked off her white blouse and bra, buttons flew across the room. In a hurry get the woman taken care of, he threw her belly down across a nearby credenza before yanking her short skirt up, exposing her blue panties and black, seamed thigh-highs. He then roughly felt her up from thighs to breasts. "Hmmm, nice and tight. Smallish breasts though," he observed aloud. "I'd guess you are only nineteen or twenty. Nice!" The girl was then bound down onto the credenza in a decorative fashion using white cotton clothesline. Her ankles were tied about eighteen inches apart, at the corners of one end of the wooden credenza. Aaron looked regretfully at his unused normal bondage apparatus, blue 5-mm nylon rope used by mountain climbers for miscellaneous purposes, to include securing accessories and tents. Aaron preferred the blue rope because of its woven flexibility and high strength. A ballgag completed the now helpless girl's bondage.

The lawyer was already starting to come to consciousness, although with no hope of coordinated movement for some minutes to come. This was Aaron's plan. He waited until the man's eyes just started to focus, and then his fist lashed out and walloped him in the solar plexus. Aaron then efficiently bound the gasping and wheezing executive with handcuffs and leg shackles. The fifty-plus year-old man weighed at least 275 pounds. "Whoa, beefcake, you need a serious diet," Aaron exclaimed after lugging the bound man onto his own leather chair.

Aaron then sat on Mr. Archibold's own desk and waited. Soon, the important executive started to sputter and curse at the indignity he was being subjected to. Aaron simply bitch-slapped him, twice. He then sat down and stared expectantly at the lawyer.

Nathanial Itzel Archibold was cunning, savvy, and a complete pussy. Like most attorneys, he was used to using the law as a shield, and unable to handle a one-on-one confrontation. He remained silent this time, beady eyes peering around the office, widening in dismay at his secretaries naked breast and exposed panties decoratively laid across his credenza. In a quiet voice, "OK, what is it you want?"

Aaron smiled and nodded toward the bound secretary, "You looked funny when you first saw the secretary, sorta like you wanted to drop trousers and take her on the spot. I think you've been sampling some of the help. That true?"

Nathanial looked surprised at the question. Numbly he just nodded his head.

Aaron shook his head. "Tut, tut, and from the pictures on your desk, you're a married man." He took a less serious tone and added in a conspiratorial manner, "Tell me fat boy, did you ever take the slut up the ass?"

The lawyer swallowed and shook his head in the negative.

"OK then, here's the rules. You cooperate tonight and I let you take the loose little whore's virgin ass."

The young secretary had gathered enough of her wits back about her to whimper and grunt in disagreement. Her wriggling ass had the unwanted effect of drawing both men's attention to the pale blue crotch panel exposed between her legs.

Nathanial was visibly aroused by the sight. He swallowed deeply and nodded.

Aaron nodded back and solemnly said, "Good, you understand the rules. You may yet live through the night. Here's the deal:

I'm in charge
You answer questions and follow directions fully
You and your two assistants get hurt if you don't
A quiet evening at home is still possible"

Nathanial nodded.

"Tell me about your firm's work for Doctor Patricia Kay," Aaron started. After the display of violence and the tempting prospect of survival after butt fucking his secretary, the obnoxious lawyer needed no other prompting or coercion. He spoke freely and completely of the situation and offered up the location of all notes, memos, and correspondence. Unfortunately, the extent of how close Steve Austin came to being turned over to the law was soon obvious. Doctor Kay had shared far too much confidential information with her attorney. Once betrayed, confidentiality tended to get flushed down the toilet.

Nathanial even babbled about his other key clients. It seems the good lawyer was dirty himself. He worked with Central and South American drug dealers. The lawyer babbled on and on, in obvious hopes of ingratiating himself and ensuring his own freedom. Aaron recorded all the sordid details on a compact recorder – it saved him from taking notes and becoming distracted.

The lawyer gave names, details about incoming shipments of drugs and money, and banks. With gentle prodding, Nathanial disclosed account numbers and passwords for various offshore accounts. "These are the accounts that only I control. Later, I move the money into other worldwide accounts that belong to my employers. Till then, only I can get the money." Aaron listened to every detail.

"What about cash and valuables secured here in your office and the law firm?" Aaron asked conversationally.

"Yes, please. Take it. My holdings are over $600 thousand," the lawyer offered. Within fifteen minutes, all the incriminating files and Archibold's cash hidden in his own office suite were stashed in a single duffle bag that had been folded in under the burglary tools.

Aaron turned to the dejected attorney and asked, "What about the firm's cash holdings? You're a full partner. You must have access to it."

With a little more reluctance, the attorney complied and told where a safe was located on the fifth floor. With a little coaxing, he outlined how to enter the office and how to open the safe without setting off a special alarm.

Aaron decided it was time to give the attorney his promised reward. He whispered his plan in Nathanial's ear. The eager response of the obese attorney nauseated Aaron. "But," he told himself, "a deal's a deal."

The 275-pound attorney was grinning and drooling like a demented demon as Aaron pushed his office chair up behind the bound secretary. Nathanial pushed his handcuffed feet up against the now struggling secretary while Aaron cuffed his feet to the mewling and wriggling woman. Not having a large-enough waist belt for the fat man, Aaron took a length of chain from his duffle bag, ran it around the man's waist, and secured it with a padlock. Aaron redirected the attorney's wrist cuffs to his new waist chain and pulled the office chair back, forcing the attorney to stand on his own, just inches behind his secretary's tempting ass. Aaron stepped back to witness what the attorney would do.

Before Aaron could finish stepping back, the attorney was already running his hands across his lover's panty covered ass. The handcuffs left him plenty of freedom to abuse the protesting woman from her slim ass all the way to just above her hips. The panties tore with only a slight ripping sound. The attorney's belt was torn off and his trousers collapsed in a puddle around his ankles.

Aaron took some pity on the poor woman. He threw a condom and a small tube on sex lube onto the small of the woman's back. "Fuck her with the condom and lube. I don't want any of your scummy lawyer cum in her when you're finished."

Nathanial didn't even respond. The faint scratching of his voluminous boxers down his hairy ass and legs was his only answer. His cuffs rattled in eagerness as he tore the foil open and spread sex lube on his condom covered cock.

Aaron turned away just as the fat man was settling his eager cock at the dimpled convex spot where her asshole was nestled. Even with the gag on her mouth, the wail of her dismay followed Aaron down the hall as he headed toward the fifth floor. Things were exactly as the attorney described, the safe held almost $1 million in cash. After forcing the money into another bag, it was time to head back to the office and finish up the night's mission.

The attorney was sprawled gasping and wheezing over his secretary's bound form. The man's hairy and unwholesome ass was aimed back to the office entrance. He never even twitched as Aaron gave him two shots of strong muscle relaxants, pilfered from the clinic. Knowing that he had been too long in the building, he quickly freed the man's hands in order to secure them loosely with white cotton clothesline. The cuffs were removed and his ankles similarly restrained. Aaron then turned away from the now sleeping man, his pants still draped around his feet and the shit-smeared condom still on his limp cock.

Tools, the files, and the duffle bags of money were soon in the van. Aaron then carried a heavy bag back into the building. It held the ten unused incendiary charges recovered from Doctor Kay's residence when Steve Austin decided to salvage their relationship. He placed three of the deadly charges in the ground level of the building. Two more thermal charges were hidden on the second, third, and fourth floors. The unfortunate lawyer, still lying in his office was secured into a fetal position around the tenth, and final charge. Each was synchronized to fire in twenty minutes.

The now naked, handcuffed, and gagged secretary was then carried down to the basement to join her coworker in the van. Both hogtied beauties were injected with Doctor Kay's drug cocktail and then covered with a comforter.

Even blocks away from the building, the explosions generated brilliant bursts of flame that lit the night behind the van. Aaron could see long shadows leap forward from the van and then slowly subside as the initial explosions turned into a steady inferno. The lawyer was neutralized and a threatening link from Doctor Kay to Steve Austin destroyed.

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

At the warehouse, Aaron checked on each of his now comatose prisoners. He left them, still in the van, and started to pull off the magnetic license plates, the custodial firm's logo and advertisement, and the accent detailing off the vehicle. A soapy brush washed off any evidence of the magnetic strips. Aaron then lugged all the evidence to a government-grade shredder machine. He started the laborious task of shredding each memo and record removed from the office complex. The magnetic signs were also shredded. The greedy, whirling jaws of the shredder reduced everything to millions of sub-millimeter pieces of confetti. Altogether, the machine filled two full lawn-sized plastic bags of confetti. All that remained from the evening's booty was a cassette tape, somewhere around $1.6 million in cash, and two sleeping captives. Aaron would save the much larger job of shredding the clinic and home files of Doctor Kay for the weekend.

By now, it was well after three in the morning. Aaron went into Puppy's cage and greeted her. The warehouse lights splashing into her container had awakened her.

"Hello, Puppy. How are you feeling?" Aaron asked as he ran his hand down the naked girl's smooth body. The sheet slipped down, exposing both of her oversized breasts. She smiled as his eyes noted her hard nipples atop the round swells. "Oh, I see. Yes, you are better then," he answered his own question from the reaction of nipples.

He lay down and tenderly cuddled next to his pet for a few minutes. Aaron enjoyed her smooth skin, rubbing down to her belly and hairless pubic mound. Doctor Quaid warned him to keep Puppy from getting too frisky for several days. Reluctantly, he stopped. He gave her some water, her antibiotics, and her pain medication and then kissed Puppy goodnight. He drew a curtain across the inside of her barred door and locked the cage door shut.

"Time to sign in my other guests," he grinned.

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

The sleeping blonde was dumped unceremoniously onto the bunk in her cell. Aaron then used a pair of scissors to remove every stitch of clothes that the blonde was wearing. She was the lawyer's paralegal assistant and she had been wearing a dress suit and low, comfortable heels. The skirt, sheer slip, and pantyhose were quick to go, revealing a cute little blonde thatch of hair above a sparsely-covered pussy. "Good girl," Aaron observed as his hand cupped her pubic mound in appreciation. "You've already gotten a start on your grooming habits I see." Her jacket was too thick to cut off. He simply undid the cuffs from the unresponsive blonde and pulled the jacket off her arms. A long, continuous cut from one sleeve cuff across the back to the other started the removal of the blouse. A second cut down the back from collar to shirttail completed the cuts. The starchy, business blouse opened like a flower, exposing her blemish-free back and a sturdy bra strap.

Aaron fingered the tag and read it, "Yes, a full C cup bra. You're a keeper lass." Of course, the bra was also cut free. He rolled the limp girl onto her back and lifted any shreds of clothing that remained. "Good, God! Girl, you have perfect breasts." He was right. Her breasts and figure made a flawless set. Aaron leaned hard forward and mauled her breasts for texture and feeling. "Tight, full, and flawless," he added.

He tugged the girl's feet down the bunk until they hung over the bottom edge and he flipped her onto her belly again. A tight leather waistband was padlocked into place and a two-inch wide nylon-shipping strap was fed through a loop on one side of the belt and pulled under the bed. He looped the strap through the opposite side of the belt and fed it back to the first side where a ratchet awaited the end of the strap. Aaron clicked the ratchet lever until the strap was very, very tight. The waistband and the shipping strap now virtually welded the girl, belly-down, to the thin mattress.

Aaron then padlocked a set of leather-lined, woven steel, cuffs on each ankle and wrist. The paralegal's hands were pulled up toward the head of the bed and clipped to chains waiting for just such a use. Aaron's guests would not need ballgags. A remote control dog-training collar was padlocked to each captive's neck. Doctor Kay could personally testify how effectively the computer chip punished her for any sound emanating from her throat. Aaron left the secured blonde alone with her shredded clothes and purse. He needed to tend to the other captive.

The brunette was next. Back at the office, Aaron thought this girl was younger, maybe nineteen to twenty. She was also much slimmer than the blonde; but very pretty. Unlike the older girl, the brunette was already naked following her ordeal back at the office. "This girl's best feature is definitely her ass," he noted with reverence, "I kinda wish I'd lied to that bastard attorney and kept him from taking her anal cherry." Indeed, her ass was perfect. It was full, but flared out from a narrow waist. The ass was blemish free. Her purse joined her on the mattress after she was secure in exactly the same manner as the blonde.

Aaron walked over to a small office that overlooked the warehouse floor. It had a glass door and half glass partition walls. He popped the cap off a cold Pacifico Beer and sat down in his chair. "Hey, it's me. Been a long day," Aaron started in with his nightly update to his partner Steve Austin. "Yes, your sister is fine. She's sleeping over at my house. She may call you in the morning to chat about Monday."

"Let's see, what else is going on?" He paused and then continued with, "Uh, yes. Sis helped me with some retraining of my new pet this morning. I see why you admire sis. She is very talented."

"Also, her lawyers have been fired. Sis can proceed with her divorce on her own without any outside interference. I did talk a couple of ladies into helping her out, but they stayed with me here, not at the house with sis. They sure are young and cute. Yeah, one's a blonde and one's a brunette. They will stay awhile." Aaron just let his partner know he had acquired two prospects while solving any loose ends with the errant doctor's lawyer.

"Hey, last thing buddy. I wanted you to know that I stumbled across some cash today. I won't have a final count till later. It will certainly more than cover any of our start-up expenses here. Yeah, it is good news, especially with our warehouse stock starting to build up here." With that, Aaron ended his mostly one-sided conversation and settled back to finish the beer. Steve said very little during the call; just that he was pleased that no loose ends would complicate their future plans.

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

Later, after drinking the beer, Aaron sat beside the unconscious blonde and rummaged through her purse. He placed her identification, credit cards, and checkbooks into a small envelope after carefully scrutinizing each item. Using a fine-tip marker, Aaron carefully wrote on a white sheet of plastic:

Name: Katria Sjogreen
Acquisition: 12 June
Rating / use: PPP / Companion (Slut-bunny)
Age / Height: 26 / 5'6"
Weight: 130 pounds
Regular Features: Natural blonde
Best Feature: Tits
Breasts: C Cup
Weight Exercise Regime: None needed
Special Treatments: None yet required
Training Status: Newbie
Special Skills: Unknown

The white placard fit neatly into a slot on the cage door. Aaron walked out and locked the gate behind him. It was time to process the brunette. The efficient process quickly determined the secretary's vital statistics. He would evaluate her ID, credit cards, and bankbook later. It was unlikely that either girl possessed anything worth stealing, but one never knew. Her card read:

Name: Wanda Alvernon
Acquisition: 12 June
Rating / use: PPP / Companion (Slut-bunny)
Age / Height: 22 / 5'5"
Weight: 105 pounds
Regular Features: Brunette, long legs
Best Feature: Ass
Breasts: A Cup
Weight Exercise Regime: None needed
Special Treatments: Breast augmentation
Training Status: Newbie
Special Skills: Unknown

Leaving the brunette's perfect ass for another time, Aaron grabbed a tube of lube and some condoms off a nearby shelf. He headed back to visit the unconscious blonde. "Since Puppy is off limits for a few days, guess we take Katria for a spin," Aaron smiled as his lubed hand cupped her exposed pubic mound. He thoughtfully wiped his fingers across her cunt lips and into her ass grommet. Seconds later, Aaron was balls deep in Katria's unconscious ass. It felt like hot molten wax. It was tight. Each slow thrust made the meaty cheeks dance a few jiggles. He shifted his weight and thrust into her cunt with a single thrust. "Yes, this is the life," he exclaimed. He set up a rhythm; a few strokes in her cunt, then her ass, and back again. The lube made it easy to push in. To change the pace, he leaned far forward to maul around the blonde's chest to her impressive C cups. They would be fun to tease a nd torment in latter sessions. He leaned back and focused again on fucking her velvety cunt. A slow twirling motion was started that ended as he ground his pubic bone against hers as all nine inches sunk all the way in. Aaron slowly sped up what was almost a masturbation session into the tight, well-lubed cunt and ass. A few final vicious lunges and he spurted into the condom. "Good night, Katria. Sweet dreams. Tomorrow is your first training session and lots of lab work to get going on your blood." He chatted as he threw the used condom into a garbage can outside the prisoner's cage.

Moments later, he was cuddled up and asleep with Puppy. All three cages were securely locked, each with a six-digit electronic keypad.

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

Saturday morning and Puppy was much sorer and stiffer than the evening before. The trauma of the surgery was kicking in. Aaron gave her the meds and painkillers and then sponged her slim form clean. Puppy practically purred the whole time. She loved that she could stretch out her limbs for the first time in a year. Her new Master was way better than that bitch doctor was.

When Aaron cleaned her pubic area, Puppy spread her arms and legs out as far as they could go and attempted a puppy-like whimper; she was clearly inviting Aaron to take her. He couldn't resist, he grabbed her hips and thrust his tongue into her steamy pussy. Puppy played docile and limply laid there while he stirred up her honey pot with his tongue. Her head rolled back and her missing fingers and toes tried to curls as he lips found her clit. He sucked it into his mouth and gently gnawed it with his teeth. Puppy quickly started to quiver with a gentle, long orgasm. Exhausted from that little bit of exertion, she drifted asleep.

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

Aaron wearily sank into the plush chair in the shabby warehouse office. He looked through the new one-way glass into his small empire. The warehouse was neatly compartmented. The steel shipping containers and the girl's training area occupied the central portion of the warehouse. The far end held his rented operational vehicles; the beige van and the white truck. The car Aaron actually owned was safely stored elsewhere in Miami. The car was for emergency use only. The nearest section of the warehouse held a number of extremely heavy-duty storage cabinets, each securely padlocked. These containers held his growing cash reserves, weapons, burglary and covert action implements, and lots of bondage items. Several strong shipping containers were also stacked next to the wall.

He needed some time to reflect upon the day's events. His Friday had been fruitful beyond all belief. Nothing unexpected occurred that he was unable to simply take in-stride. Yes, it had been a great day.

He turned to his computer and powered it up. A power-on password and then a boot partition access password were required. Even the National Security Agency (NSA) could not access and decrypt the data protected on his hard drive. Once up and running, Aaron launched another 128-bit decryption algorithm to get to his own files. Steve and Aaron ensured the protection of their organization's operational data.

His first order of business was to investigate the bank accounts and passwords provided by the now-incinerated lawyer. Aaron entered the remote banking website for the first offshore bank and laboriously typed in the account numbers, access codes, and confirmation passwords. Nathanial Archibold had told the truth. The first account, belonging to the lawyer himself, held a little over $2.3 million dollars. It took another thirty minutes to figure out how to wire transfer the money to one of Aaron's offshore banks. The website confirmed that the lawyer's account was empty. Aaron continued the process with the three other accounts, each belonging to the drug lord / business partner that the lawyer was laundering funds for. Each account held exactly $5 million. Aaron then logged into his own account and arranged for exactly half of the dirty money, $8.65 million, to be moved into Steve Austin's account.

Aaron then opened a simple, text only, notepad window and wrote:

Steve – a quick follow-up on our conversation just a few hours ago.

I have two double-wrapped packages secured here in the warehouse. Each holds exactly $800 thousand and represents the total cash stolen from the law firm representing Dr. Kay. A few moments ago, I finished moving $8.65 million into each of our master offshore accounts. The cash and bank transfers represent a profit of over $9 million for just one, long, day's work. Archibold gave me detailed data on some other cash and drug transfers. It will be my priority to see if stealing any of this fits into our Caribbean work.

Please hold off on any plans to auction off my first two acquisitions. Given our current substantial cash reserves, I would like to work on my training cadre and practice all our handling procedures. However, encrypted video clips, digital photos, and statistical data on 'K' and 'W' will follow shortly for your review. I assess everything as PPP.

Also, given our cash situation, I would like to drastically move up our plans to establish a permanent, vice rented, operational stronghold in the British Virgin Islands.

Aaron

Aaron then saved the memo in an encrypted format. A privacy protection software package then merged the memo file into a simple digital photograph using another 128-bit encryption algorithm. Steve would receive only a perfectly normal photo attachment to an innocuous e-mail. Only the two conspirators held the necessary double-decryption codes. He sent the memo and powered down the computer.

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

Later that same Saturday, Aaron stood outside of Katria and Wanda's open cage doors and admired their bare asses. Steve had never fully explained the merchandise estimate system he developed for new acquisitions. Aaron felt sure that he was looking at a good $250 thousand worth of PPP (Prime Pieces of Pussy). They were young, beautiful, and except for Wanda's too small titties, perfect in every way. "I wonder if Doctor Kay can do a little surgery here tomorrow morning. I have all her gear from the clinic. Hmmm," he kept that thought for discussion with the doctor later that afternoon.

Both girls had soiled themselves. Bound with their asses hanging over the end of their mattresses, their piss and shit ran down their own legs to the floor without dirtying the bed. Neither girl had a clue about what was going on. Aaron picked up a leash from the training cabinet by the cage and went in to get Wanda. She meekly followed him out the cage to the adjacent training area. He snapped her leash lead to one of four grooming poles surrounding a nearby floor drain. Moments later, Katria was secured by her neck to another nearby pole.

Robert took off all his clothes before he started their bath. He didn't need to worry about the collars; they were waterproof and recharged themselves nightly from an induction coil attached under each girl's bed.

In the bathing area, a finely coiled section of hose hung down from the ceiling and dangled over the drain. A single water valve at the station controlled the shower. Above, a thermostatically controlled valve system automatically metered the hot and cold feed lines to deliver a constant 104-degree flow. Robert started each girl with a shampoo. He was gentle and through. He gave both a douche and enema to each thoroughly humiliated girl. In his training regime, rough treatment and pain were only intended as a lesson or punishment for obedience infractions. However, every act and movement on his part constantly reinforced their role as sex slaves. He vocalized his training philosophy to each of the girls as he toweled them dry.

Katria and Wanda were then bound lengthwise over padded horses, head-to-head. Robert arranged an adjustable stand under each of the slave's chins and forced them up so the girl's were now eye-to-eye.

Aaron moved a short stool beside the two captive beauties and set down a grooming box. He started gently brushing Katria's shoulder-length blonde hair. "You two are very lucky," he started. "My partner and I have decided to keep you as a matched set for use as companions. If you concentrate on your upcoming training, you may end up on the arm of a rich and powerful owner. As pampered sexual companions, your owner will want the world to see his beautiful trophies. One of you may end up as an avowed wife. Your training will allow you to remain at the center of the world's attention. Manners, attitude, deportment, grace, etiquette, languages, and … yes, … sex are all subjects that you will master. Consider this a finishing school.

A stretchable hair bungee pulled Katria's lustrous blonde hair back from her face. Aaron began grooming Wanda's hair, just inches away from Katria's bulging eyes. She already knew that any verbal protest would result in instant punishment from the damnable collar. She couldn't even begin to comprehend her situation. Katria was a class-conscious snob. With a Bachelor of Arts degree in business already completed, and her ongoing pre-law course work, Katria was a young woman with a plan. She was on her way to bigger and better things. The paralegal position was a stepping-stone to a strong recommendation from a successful law firm, a sure ticket into law school. She considered the lively and vivacious Wanda to be an air-headed slut.

Wanda was having a not-so-secret affair with their boss, Nathanial Archibold. Katria despised Wanda for the unfair advantage she had built with her married and obviously unprincipled boss. "I'm better than that slut!" was a mantra that often danced through Katria's head as she watched Wanda and Nathanial lightly caress and tease each other during the day. Their happiness made her nuts. Katria needed Nathanial's recommendation to be sure of law school acceptance.

Wanda's long silky hair took more work to brush than Katria's. Aaron continued his one-sided talk with, "Girls, you must quickly let go of any prior notion of your place in the world. I promise that your selection as a matched set is a road to what could be a better life that you two had. But," and he stopped to tightly clench each girl's neck in a vicious stranglehold; "privileges and comfort come with a high price when attitudes slip or failure occurs." He relaxed his crushing grip; but continued to hold on.

"Keep in mind that you are commodities now; not too unlike farm-raised stock. Failure to meet rigid, unbending goals will result in re-classification. Companion to general sex slave; … to bondage slut; … to pain slut; … to whore in a specialty club; … to prostitute in a foreign mining town; … possibly the featured lead actress in torture and snuff films; … maybe roasting meat on a spit over hot coals – yes, these are all alternatives in a downward spiral caused by an inability to measure up. You have the lucky potential to be the best; respond or suffer accordingly. Aaron finished with Wanda's hair and slid another elastic bungee into place against her scalp.

A red ballgag was silently jammed into each mouth and the retaining straps tightened, to fully seat the gag. The remote controller sent a time-out signal to each training collar (a non-punishment mode with voice control temporarily deactivated). "Collars are now off," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Throughout your training you will occasionally be subjected to humiliating and painful scenarios. Most are for your general awareness of what will befall you if you fail in your training," Aaron said as he circled the two, caressing their alluring bodies as he passed. "Today, you will get an easy lesson in what punishment can be like. Watch each other's pain and learn. As a set, you are as one. Rewards and punishments go to you equally. Become friends and lovers, you have only each other for comfort and protection.

Without further ado, he selected a long wooden paddle and forcefully struck five blows onto Katria's right ass cheek. Katria's body arched up against her bonds from the unexpected and violent act. Her fleshy ass rippled wildly from the blow and a red blotchy patch appeared. Aaron continued with the remaining four blows, each delivered with a measured pause and similar force. He knew that drawing out punishment made it seem worse than it actually was.

He calmly walked around to Wanda's slimmer hips and stunning ass. The look was so perfect; he had to run his hands across the silky surface in appreciation. He dipped two fingers down her ass crease, across her puckered asshole, and into her cunt. Pearly drops of cunt lube already covered her outer lips. The two fingers sunk relentlessly as deep as they could thrust into her tight, clasping hole. Wanda moaned with obvious pleasure into her gag.

Katria's blood-shot eyes and snot covered face locked into an escapable view of Wanda's enjoyment. "Slut!" Katria triumphantly observed. "I will never respond like that." Wanda continued to moan and gurgle happily into her gag. Drool ran from the corners of her mouth and fell onto the floor below.

Aaron kept moving his two fingers, stirring deep within her cunt. He spoke loudly enough for each to hear, "Girls, you both just earned one-half off your punishment orientation this morning because of Wanda's perfect response. Katria keep in mind that Wanda just helped you out." Aaron pulled his slimy fingers out with a pop and wiped them across Katria's face, overwhelming her with the other girl's musky scent.

"OK, Wanda," he said, "time to continue." Her right ass cheek rippled and danced less vigorously than Katria's fleshy orbs, but the howled response was just as dramatic. After the fifth blow, he caressed girls's left ass cheek with the rough surface of the paddle and reminded them that the left cheek stayed pain free only because of Wanda.

A light-duty cat-o-nine-tails was taken up next. Katria screamed into her gag with pain as the first blow struck her fully across her back. Four more followed. Her perfect skin was now marred with dozens of red streaks left by the individual whip strands. Aaron knelt down behind Katria and lightly caressed her silky ass and upper thigh. He never said a word as he kept up the calming caresses to her pain ravaged nerve endings.

Aaron's tongue now traced a slick path between her puckered ass and the pussy lips below. Katria was clean and floral scented from her enemas and douches. His hands strongly cupped and massaged the pussy mound below his tongue as it wormed its way into her ass. After the pain overload, Katria had no alternative but to slump down and enjoy the sensuous sensations.

Katria was now silent; but enjoying the reward after her painful session. "The tongue is in my ass," she marveled as she tried to move her loosening pussy toward the fingers of the hand cupping her mound. Two inner fingers of his hand slipped between her outer labia and worked in conjunction with the two fingers outside the labial lips to squeeze and massage everything together. "Eieee," she tried to moan through her gag. Her eyes closed to escape the horrible situation she was in and to help focus on the wonderful feeling in her cunny and butt.

Aaron felt the girl's pelvis wriggle against his face in a greedy search for more pleasure. He likened it to two blind holes questing from side to side, greedily searching for a cock to swallow. As if in agreement, both her ass grommet and her pussy clenched and relaxed in little spasms.

Aaron slid on a condom and set his cockhead against her hot center, exactly between her slack and drooling cunt lips. Aaron unbuckled her gag and pulled it off just as he buried himself, balls deep, into her slick pussy.

"Ahhh, ohhh. Yes," the blonde-haired woman unwittingly screamed. Aaron paused briefly as he struck bottom, rolled his pelvis twice around and waited for her response. "No, … no, …stop. No, … fuck me, fuck me!" she wailed in ecstasy. The fear, humiliation, pain, and then the waves of pleasure rewired the overloaded woman's brain. She wildly thrashed her ass against him and convulsions rocked through her belly. She came hard and long. Eventually, she slumped down onto the sweaty leather of the vaulting horse.

Aaron felt the convulsions within her pussy ripple to a stop. It was time to start fucking; and he did. Long slow withdrawals and fast hard inward thrusts were the initial tempo he chose. Her lush ass cheeks jiggled and jostled as his rhythm built up. Despite the too slippery condom, Aaron felt her pussy greedily sucking and grasping at his cock as he began to ride her hard.

Katria was already broken to slavery. One short training session is all it took. Her body, so long neglected by the rigid professional goals of the former paralegal reacted strongly to the punishment / reward scenario forced upon her. She was instantly addicted to the sex. Later, she would shamefully review her wholehearted response and realize she would do anything he demanded to keep getting that level of sexual gratification. She came repeatedly; so overwhelmed with orgasms that she never noticed as he pulled out and left her.

Aaron grunted as he nearly lost control and exploded. He only yanked himself out with her clasping cunt at the last possible minute. To change the pattern slightly, he pulled Wanda's gag off before her whipping started. Wanda's howls of pain as she received her own brutal strokes from the cat-o-nine-tails slowly sunk into Katria's lust shrouded brain. She shook off her post-orgasmic bliss to see Wanda's pain contorted face. Katria shamefully remembered calling Wanda a slut, just minutes ago. In truth, she realized, belatedly, Wanda was not half the sexual whore that she herself was. Katria burst into tears and sobbed as the weight of all that had occurred overwhelmed her.

As Katria sunk into a near catatonic stupor, Aaron busied himself with pleasuring Wanda in a repeat performance of Katria. As Aaron sunk forcefully into Wanda's sopping cunt, he couldn't help but notice difference between the two nearly identical fucks. Wanda's far superior ass was an ultimate pleasure to play with and Aaron couldn't wait to compare side-by-side ass reamings. However, the too slippery condom and copious flood of Wanda's cunt butter reduced the friction too much on his bludgeoning cock. Aaron momentarily pulled out to grab a small towel. He started fucking away again using the towel to absorb some of the excess slime from her pussy. As more and more fluid was absorbed out of her vaginal cavern, her lips began to grasp tighter and tighter against him. "By, God! That's better," Aaron exclaimed aloud. The increased stimulation and the training scene finally overwhelmed his desire to fuck all day; he exploded into the condom. He ground his spent cock into her for a few final minutes to feel her spasms continue to suck the last weak spurts of cum from him.

That concluded his first short training session with his new slutbunnies. He grinned at the mental image of a slut-bunny and congratulated himself on delaying the departure of Katria and Wanda. Their value will skyrocket based upon the results of just this first session. Puppy would easily be able to follow the training scenario while he focused on other scouting expeditions and satisfying long-term goals.

The girls obediently went to their cages and fell into mentally and physically exhausted sleep.

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

Aaron Clarke spent a few minutes early Saturday afternoon setting the scene for another humiliating scenario for Ingrid Gaviard, the trim, black-haired stewardess that he had blackmailed on two other occasions. The blonde, busty bartender, Sandy Hamilton, that he and Ingrid met one night at the Piccadilly Rose was also invited to the fun.

Most of the afternoon was spent in hard study and analysis, setting up a detailed training schedule for a set of sexual companion slaves (very talented slutbunnies). He also had to design some other scenarios for other potential acquisitions; a general sex slave, a bondage slut, a pain slut, a simple whore, a lower value prostitute, a switchable dom/sub slut, and possibly a humiliation scenario. The work was especially demanding given that Aaron had to set everything up for Puppy to take the lead while he was mostly away conducting business.

Finally, he was ready for Saturday night. It was going to be an early night.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 12 – New Stock (or The Slutbunnies Get Some Companions)

Ingrid Gaviard collapsed in shock onto a kitchen chair in her apartment. At thirty-six, she was too in control of her career and personal life to be in her current situation. Since she had met Michael Moore on that flight just a few weeks ago, her life had tumbled out of control. She had been sexually assaulted by a passenger, acted like a wanton whore with another woman, and been forced to prostitute herself. She burst into tears and wondered what to do about the message on her answering machine.

Across town, the more worldly-wise Sandy sat down and grinned evilly in response to her phone message. Her friend, and recent sexual partner, Michael, just offered her another chance to humiliate his slut girlfriend, Ingrid. The twenty-six year-old bartender looked forward to humiliating the older stewardess again. She loved the depravity of her first encounter with the beautiful woman.

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

Sandy had been working the bar the night Ingrid walked in the nightclub. So few patrons were there on an early weeknight that she noticed the black-haired woman come in and meet a man sitting quietly at a table. The event was memorable because the man ordered a Pacifico Beer and two of the giant signature Margaritas the bar featured. The woman was gorgeous. She had on an expensive sheer black cocktail sheath. Sandy thought she saw a momentary silhouette of a naked body underneath as she walked past the more brightly lit bar area; but she was probably mistaken. The two only sat for a few minutes while the female gulped down the first giant Margarita. She saw how he picked up their drinks and took the woman back to sit in a darkened, less noticeable corner. Moments later, she was sitting primly at the bar alone and unwilling to order a drink; she looked a little confused.

A nondescript man at the end of the bar signaled her over to where he sat at one of the only dark spots at the otherwise well-lit bar area. He ordered the woman a double Long-Island Iced Tea. The woman moved over to sit beside the man and Sandy was distracted for a few minutes with her bar duties. It could not have been five minutes later that she noticed the two had drifted out onto the completely empty dance floor. The song playing was way too fast for their slow dance. Sandy saw the couple's hands blatantly groping each other. She remembered thinking, "Fast work slut." Next thing Sandy noticed, the woman was back at the bar with her small black clutch purse held tightly in front of her. She was drinking the Long Island Iced Tea. Sandy could tell she had just had sex and idly wondered where the man was. When the distant ladies' room door opened, the much-disheveled man that stumbled out answered the unanswered question. He left the club and Sandy laughed.

Sandy asked the just-fucked girl about her boyfriend, meaning the man she just fucked. Instead, the naive woman, flushed from her vigorous sex and the effects of three double-strength drinks, told her that Michael was her boyfriend and was forcing her to perform some tasks at the club. Intrigued, the stacked blonde bartender had pulled her tight top over her big tits and strutted over with another Pacifico for the man. Sandy asked him about the whore. He told her that woman was a professional flight attendant, a submissive slut-bunny, and that she was into humiliation. What followed had been delicious. At twenty-six, the big-titted blonde had gone wild in the big city and with her somewhat mild experiences, thought she was worldly wise.

With some detailed coaching, she accosted the woman at the bar with, "Well Piggy, did you decide to go for slut or whore?" Of course, there was no answer from the flabbergasted woman. She remembered forcing Ingrid to strip in the dingy manager's office. Sandy then pasted her cunt on top of the prone woman's face and forced her to service her dripping cunt. She left Ingrid naked in the office and she and a bouncer spent the rest of the night collecting money from the dozens of men that subsequently fucked her. Altogether, she and the bartender split $800 from their pimping of the reluctant woman. Michael kept an additional two thousand dollars and Ingrid got a ruined black clutch purse jammed full of more than sixty condoms, many leaking cum onto the silk lining.

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

That same night, after breaking in Katria and Wanda, a Saturday, Sandy waited for Michael at the bus stop near her apartment complex. She idly wondered if she and Michael had ever exchanged last names. Her body was as primed for sex as it had been that night at the nightclub. This would be a lot of fun. As before, Michael promised to give her a detailed scenario to humiliate the submissive stewardess. His beige van pulled up to the curb, and she was off on a second adventure with Michael.

Meanwhile, Ingrid was just emerging from her mandatory bath. Michael had been very explicit. She sat on a towel at the edge of the tub and stared at a small pair of scissors, a zip lock bag, a can of shaving gel, and a razor. Trying hard not to break into tears again, she took the scissors and carefully began to cut off her pubic hair and place the cuttings into the bag. When her lush, black forest of hair was reduced to a short stubble, she smeared some of the slippery gel on her pubic mound and around her pussy. She started with the relatively easy pubic mound to shave. It was far more humiliating to scoot forward and shave between her legs. She actually had to stand, legs widely spread to shave the small area between her pussy and asshole. She shivered and barely held back the tears. "What else can I do?" she asked herself for what seemed like the hundredth time since she heard the horrible recorded message.

"How did he know that I kept those awful pictures and bondage items from that night with Connie?" she wondered. It was terrible that he knew because they were featured in tonight's game. Finished shaving, she picked up another last minute purchase needed to satisfy Michael's demands; a tube of fruit flavored sex lube. Just before her bath she had laid back on the bathroom floor and pumped two prepackaged plastic douche bottles of scented fluid into her ass (exactly as Michael demanded). She then jammed a small butt plug into her asshole and staggered to the toilet. There she used the second box of two douche bottles to clean out her pussy. With a grimace of disgust, she pulled out the plug and her ass sprayed diluted shit over everything. The unpleasant chore was not finished until she completed another stomach-cramping round of douche up her ass. That's when she showered and then soaked in a tub with scented bath beads. A package of black, lace-top, thigh-high hose was on the vanity. The hose was another of Michael's specific demands for the night.

Now she had to deal with the sex lube. She carefully lubricated each end of her souvenir from her night with Connie. It was a soft, double-ended jelly cock, brightly colored neon orange. The monster was twenty-four inches long.

In the living room, she hesitated at her front door. Naked, goose bumps covered her shivering form. The door was unlocked and unlatched. Earlier she shifted an overstuffed chair so the cushiony back was near the entry vestibule. She walked up around the chair and pressed her hairless cunt mount against the chair's back. Awkwardly, she reached down to tie her spread ankles securely to a stubby chair leg. Next, she folded the twenty-four inch cock in half and jammed an end into her ass and pussy. She grunted with the effort and pain. It was hard going; but she fully buried both at the same time. Except for the two or three inches left exposed between her painfully extended asshole and pussy, her action deeply seated ten inches of cock into each of her aching holes.

Ingrid gathered her hair behind her head into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. Nearly finished now, she glared at the remaining items on the chair seat in front of her. It was quite a pile. The pile included a black blindfold, a set of nipple clamps, and a brilliant red ballgag, all from that awful night with Connie. There were also two sets of just purchased handcuffs. She took a deep breath and continued with her self-bondage; she was soon committed with no way out.

Sandy and Michael were kissing furiously in the van outside Ingrid's apartment. Sandy begged Michael to dump a load of spunk into her pussy for Ingrid to slurp out. She pouted when he refused, citing the need for condoms. Her mood improved when he suggested she change clothes in the van prior to greeting Ingrid.

Minutes later, she hesitantly followed Michael up the walk to Ingrid's ground level apartment. He strode confidently along, carrying a small duffle bag and he waited near the entry as Sandy lagged behind. The reason for her uncertainty was her obscene and sluttish costume that Michael ordered her to wear. She still had her black high heels on; but otherwise had to strip naked in the van. Her costume consisted of an odd, black leather 'G' string and a leather bra with large cutouts for her nipples. Michael draped a man's oversize raincoat on her shoulders, handed her a small six-pack cooler and walked away. She somewhat fearfully and hesitantly scurried after Michael. He waited in Ingrid's brightly lit entry alcove.

Michael quickly drew Sandy inside and locked the door. He heard a rather loud, "Hmmfff," of protest from Ingrid as she fearfully wondered what was going to happen. Michael backed Sandy's virtually naked ass against Ingrid's up thrust rump and kissed her deeply. With a finger on his lips, his hand pulled a strange L-shaped double cock from his bag. Still admonishing silence, he knelt between Sandy's legs and pulled the glistening dildo from its protective zip-lock bag. He eased the shorter, and already lubricated, end through an opening in Sandy's crotch strap in the 'G' string. It clicked into place and Sandy now had a ten-inch monster cock jutting up from her pubic mount. The device tightly screwed the small end, a seven-inch dildo, into her own cunt. Michael reached up to her hips and almost brutally tightened the leather straps on the panties.

Ever thorough, Michael pulled on black leather gloves and set a carefully typed set of guidelines for Sandy to follow in the chair's arm. He left Sandy to begin to ravage the bound beauty. The scene behind Michael as he walked quickly into Ingrid's bedroom was of little interest to him. It was merely an opening act to conceal the true purpose of the evening.

Michael knew the layout of Ingrid's apartment from an earlier scouting trip while she was flying. Despite Ingrid's trepidation, she keep Michael informed of her travel plans, mostly the keep from meeting him. Moving quickly, he pulled several folded duffle bags out of his carry bag and started carefully packing Ingrid to set the stage for her disappearance. Every scrap of lingerie, her incriminating photos with Connie, all her jewelry, and half of her cosmetics and toiletries were destined for a duffle bag. He selected Ingrid's best outfits; each yanked off hangers and stuffed into another bag. The vigorously removed clothes scattered hangers wildly around the closet. Michael carefully searched the room to determine if he had missed anything. Finished with the master suite, he laid a 100-gram bag of cocaine on the vanity in the bathroom and carefully slit it open with a new razorblade. He carefully scattered some of the powdery cocaine onto the vanity top, dropped the cocaine-covered razorblade on the floor, and carefully swept the open bag of cocaine off the counter to spill onto the floor beside the toilet. He hoped it would look as though the scared and hurried woman knocked the drugs off her counter while hastily packing to flee.

Michael left the master suite and went through the combination guest bedroom and office. He took all her bank statements, credit card statements, checkbooks, copies of prior tax returns, etc. Finished upstairs, he hurried downstairs with the packed duffle bags and set them in the entry area. Michael Moore watched in wonder as Sandy's hips fucked into Ingrid's cunt in a blurring fashion. "Women are such talented fucking machines," he observed to himself. Ingrid was snorting and moaning into her ballgag as she desperately fucked back against her unknown assailant. As she could only wheeze through her nose, snot and sweat dripped down onto the soft cushion below. Cunt lube and sex lube already stained the back of the couch. Sandy's pubic hairs were matted with the mingled juices of both women. Sandy ignored his presence and continued her mindless drilling of Ingrid's cunt. Both women were fucking and getting fucked; each in a sexual fog.

Michael carefully double-checked Ingrid's purse to ensure that it held her passport and airline identification. It did. He threw it into his last duffle bag and headed into the kitchen. There he removed the telephone and answering machine and replaced them with a similar model he had purchased at a garage sale; still with the generic factory greeting on it. He also removed any drinks in the refrigerator and threw them into the duffle bag.

In the entry area again, Michael reached into his pocket and carefully removed a three-inch square section of mirror from a baggie immersed in cocaine. He brought the mirror up to Ingrid's nose and watched as she unwittingly snorted cocaine and air together into her nose. Now, snot mixed with cocaine flew out of her nose with each expelling breath. Michael then placed another set of lines of cocaine on the glass and brought it up to Sandy's face. She enthusiastically snorted three fat lines, threw her head back, and howled in glee. Her instantly runny nose dribbled onto the mirrored surface, mingling in with Ingrid's.

Michael pressed Ingrid's virtually lifeless fingers around the piece of mirror and the baggy, now containing about fifty grams of cocaine. He let the mirror fall to the floor. Next, he carefully scattered a few small pinches of the drug across the soiled chair cushion. The remainder of the cocaine, along with Ingrid's fingerprints, went into her freezer. Michael then took his half-full box of zip-lock bags and set it on her counter. From a nearby kitchen drawer he removed her box of storage bags and threw that into his duffle bag. A small weighing scale was then set on the counter beside the box of zip-lock bags.

Back in the entry, Sandy was now enthusiastically pumping the ten-inch portion of the monster dildo deep into Ingrid's puckered ass. Michael winched as he saw the abusive log relentlessly fucking in and out. Sandy had been pumping on full throttle for almost forty-five minutes. "Time to finish this," Aaron muttered. With that, he pulled another tightly closed zip-lock bag from a coat pocket and mashed the soaking wet, chloroform impregnated rag forcefully against the huffing and puffing bartender. Too winded from her marathon fuck match, Sandy couldn't fight much and sucked in the fumes. As she slumped down to the floor, Michael saw why Doctor Kay had prompted him to use her drug cocktail instead of the chloroform. Sandy's face was already red and raw looking from the burn her skin received from the harsh chemical. "Little, thing, not to worry. It only lasts a day or so."

Michael quickly handcuffed Sandy's wrists and ankles. He used his signature hogtie by loosely joining her wrists and ankles together with a third set of cuffs. A blindfold and ballgag completed her conversion to merchandise. In a last touch of drama, Michael pulled a pinch of Sandy's pubic hair from her cunt and mixed it with a similar amount from the fresh bag of pubic hair Ingrid left on her sofa, as directed. The mixture of pubic hair was carefully scattered on the sofa back, the seat, and on the floor where Ingrid's rape took place. He also scattered some of Sandy's long blonde hairs around the chair. The scene would appear to have been the site of some very kinky sex.

Moments later, Michael drove away with a new set of merchandise and bags full of mostly useless stuff. He left the apartment unlocked, every light left on, and small pile of white clothesline still on the floor from Ingrid's self-bondage. It would be a strange crime scene to figure out. One last hurdle for Michael was to set a fire at Sandy's much dingier apartment. Her neighbors, all single men, were never home at night. From Sandy's own description, she had nothing in the apartment worth stealing.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 13 – Training Day (or I'm Head Bitch Now)

It was now late on Sunday morning, time for Aaron to oversee Puppy's debut as a slave trainer. Aaron had given Katria Sjogreen and Wanda Alvernon their introduction to slavery the day before. It was time for their second day as a slave and their first real training lessons. They were acquired Thursday night during the raid on the law firm where they were working late with their boss, the recently deceased Nathanial Itzell Archibold.

Aaron fitted a six-inch remote control unit to her left forearm. Velcro fasteners secured the control unit in place. The remote controller had four rows of buttons, each with a name label at the start of a row – Katria, Wanda, Sandy, Piggy. Labels adjacent to the buttons or lights were:

Alert
Punish (level 1 to 10)
Stun
Immobilize
Emergency Immobilize
Release Arm Latches
Release Leg Latches
Alarm Condition

Aaron stood back to admire his pet. She was totally bald, not a scrap of hair on her body anywhere. Her facial features and full-body tattoo mimicked a pug puppy down to the flat black nose and soft, black floppy ears. For the first time in a year, she wore clothes. Everything was black. She wore a tight, black lycra sheath that fell only six inches below her bare pussy. Earlier, Aaron permanently locked a black electronic training collar on her throat. Her gloves over her uselessly atrophied fingers and her footwear were also black. Aaron had been pleased when the doctor smugly told him that prosthetic gloves were not needed and that in time, the slave would begin to regain some control over her fingers and hands. Until then, Puppy could active the oversize buttons on the remote controller with the back of her right hand.

Robert had spent all of the early Sunday morning hours filling in the rapidly recovering Puppy on her new vocation and its many responsibilities. He had selected Puppy for assignment as head bitch for the entire east coast operation, a provisional assignment. Puppy had to perform well to keep that special distinction. She was uniquely qualified; because of Doctor Kay, she had lived through the wrong way to train a pet and would follow Aaron's training plan exactly.

Weeks earlier, Aaron had a small team of contractors descend upon the then empty warehouse. One task given the electricians was to groove three concentric slots deep into the concrete floor. Each loop enclosed the site where the steel storage containers would sit. Three sets of wire loops installed into the grooves created a multi-tier electronic fence.

Upon release from their cages, most of Aaron's merchandise could roam as directed anywhere within the first loop, to include the substantial training and reward areas. An approach any closer than ten feet and the training collars would trigger an alarm to the master control unit and a level five, punishment shock occurred. If the prisoner managed to approach the second loop, the collars would trigger a higher level of alarm and jolt the violator with an emergency immobilize shock.

Puppy was a trusted agent; but her greater freedoms included far harsher potential penalties for infractions than did her charges. Her movement was restricted to within the second and third loops. That arrangement allowed her to rescue a slave trapped by her collar close to the first loop. While the second loop only generated a level two warning shock to Puppy, the third loop would kill her. This was an important lesson and a sobering thought to Puppy. She would enjoy increased privileges and luxury, but Aaron demanded unfailing loyalty.

Puppy was ecstatic about the improvements in her life. Yes, she was still a freak; but Aaron gave her love, sexual satisfaction, clothing, a challenging job, and a chance to control the type beautiful women that scorned her so.

She did a pirouette in front of her full-length mirror and walked out of her home, albeit a little unsteady on her recently repaired legs. She would love Aaron forever for the simple act of restoring her mobility and giving the opportunity to restore her hands to what might be full use. Puppy closed the barred door on her home and watched the new electronic device automatically latch the door locked. An adjacent electronic keypad would allow for her entry and exit. Aaron had replaced every lock on the various cages, throughout the training area, and even in the reward area with the electronic ones.

Aaron sat in a comfortable leather recliner near Training Pad F and watched as Puppy walked over toward the slaves' pens. He thought she was both breathtakingly beautiful and at the same time, an obviously fearsome creature to the cowed girls.

Puppy's hands could not master the complexities of dressing in a normal bra, lacing a corset, or tying shoelaces. However, she was able to struggle into her shoes, panties, tube-type tops, and any clothing without buttons such as dresses, sweaters, and many items of sexy lingerie. With a simple handheld pullhook and a loop, she could even yank on a zipper. Puppy's closet and jewelry drawers were full of beautiful items. Aaron gave her first option on the clothes often acquired with the merchandise. Puppy loved the irony of enslaving a gorgeous, independent woman and then stealing and using her valued items.

Puppy approached Katria's cage and somewhat awkwardly keyed an alert shock to Katria's collar. Katria Sjogreen, a 26-year-old natural blonde, had been the dedicated paralegal working for Doctor Kay's attorney. She made the mistake of working late the night Aaron arrived as Robert Morgan to destroy all the attorney's files. Somewhat fleshier than her companion slave, Wanda, her full C cup tits were her best asset. Until captured, she seldom thought of sex and despised the lowly Katria as an opportunistic slut.

Katria the slave already knew the procedures to follow during a training session. She hesitantly stood up in the small kennel and moved her wrist cuffs to her waist. Two solid clicks indicated that the waist belt locked the wrists solidly into position. No human on earth was strong enough to force their hands free of the magnetically activated locks on the waist belt.

Naked and with eyes downcast, Katria approached the barred entry and waited in a kneeling position. Still a little unskilled with her nearly useless fingers, Puppy entered the code to unlock Katria's cage and swung the door open. Puppy backed up and gave another gentile alert shock to the slave's collar to let Katria know a response was required. The thoroughly cowed slave stood up and obediently moved to the training area as directed.

Puppy pointed to one of two identical raised leather platforms on Training Pad F, somewhat shaped like a cone with a rounded bottom. A series of gestures let Katria know to lie down on the mattress belly up. Katria sat down on her butt, silently thanks to the dog-training collar. She then scooted backward on her bare ass. She laid her blond head close to the apex of the padded mattress and widely spaced her feet. Katria's collar and all four cuffs now included a two-inch hinged tab. Puppy easily inserted the neck tab into a slot on the mattress; a loud click indicated the electronic latch locked tight against the tab. Puppy then finished the procedure by locking the leg cuffs into similar slots. The leg, arm, and neck locks now helplessly bound Katria to the mattress. The waist belt still tightly held her arms. The electronic master controller held by her trainer could release any of the locks with a digital signal. Puppy knew to keep tight control of each of her charges.

Puppy now turned off the voice control of Katria's collar. She silently tapped her own throat and her lips to demand continued silence from the trainee.

Aaron had already given Puppy an outline of the day's training schedule and taught Puppy how to use the computer and printer in her living area. Puppy was allowed strictly controlled internet access and the ability to send and receive coded messages from Aaron and Steve, worldwide, twenty-four hours a day. A software package installed and configured by Aaron, controlled Puppy's use of the system. The software tracked and reported any violations or attempts to circumvent the system. The punishment was extreme, immediate reversion back to subhuman, pet status.

However, the training program software did allow for creating easy to read placards for her and the slaves. Each morning, she was to place a daily training plan, customized for each girl, into a special slot on the doors of the cages.

Katria knew, from reading her personalized training schedule, that on Sunday afternoon she would be trained with her companion slut, Wanda, in the following areas:

Oral Skills (Wanda) – a one-hour block (Pad F)
Oral Skills (Katria) – a one-hour block (Pad F)
Break Time (Katria & Wanda) – if earned à forty-five minutes Free Reward Choice
Cosmetics Training (Katria & Wanda) – a one-hour lesson (Classroom 7A)
Treadmill exercise & French Level One – a one-hour session (Pad D)
Snack & Short Break – thirty minutes
Vaginal & Anal Muscle Control – a one-hour block (Bedroom 4A)

Katria also saw that her sexual companion / slut-bunny partner would receive nearly identical training. Aaron and Puppy agreed that the best training route was to keep the two potential companion slaves working and thinking as a team. They would soon share a cell and single mattress bed, as long as the two got enough sleep at night. Everything in the sexual part of the training plan was to increase their sexual libido and sexual submissiveness.

Puppy left Katria locked on her training mattress and retrieved Wanda. Wanda Alvernon, a 22 year-old brunette, had been a secretary to an important attorney. At 105 pounds, Wanda's best feature by far was her wondrous ass atop her long slim legs. Her A cup tits were tight and perky, but not yet up to the standard Steve and Aaron desired for her. Unknown to Wanda, Doctor Kay planned to augment her breasts later that day. The idea was for her breasts to match her fleshier companion's C cup, at least visually. Doctor Kay and Aaron agreed that a full B+ cup on Wanda's slender frame would work perfectly. Nobody thought about asking Wanda's permission for the surgery.

Wanda's wrist cuffs were also left locked against her waistband before she left her cage. At Training Pad F, she knelt, facing Katria's blonde pussy. Puppy helped lock her ankles into waiting recesses in the mattress. Puppy directed their attention to a tall stand holding a pre-printed placard nearby so the girls could refresh themselves on the rules of this training session. While the girls were looking at the card, Puppy attached a set of EKG leads to either side of Katria's throat, beside her heart, and two just above her pubic mound. Finally, she ran a spiral phone cord from a console on a control chair to each of the girl's training collars. Puppy sat down in her chair and studied Katria's heartbeat and muscle activity data displayed on a monitor. She hit a button on the collar master controller on her arm and an electronic signal released Wanda's arms. Another button on Puppy's armrest started the session; an internal computer dinged a nearby dinged and started a digital countdown clock from the five-minute mark.

The lesson was simple and fully automatic. Wanda would eat and slurp at Katria's exposed pussy for nine five-minute sessions. The training goal of this lesson was to have the reclining girl achieve at least nine orgasms, one each five minutes. The two had to work as a team; Wanda to use all of her imagination and growing oral skills – Katria to fully immerse herself as a passive, but fully receptive partner to her lover's sexual advances and caresses. Wanda could use her hands, fingers, tongue, lips, teeth, and anything that could reach the sweet pussy in front of her face. Aaron had already introduced the girls to the pitfalls of failure. Knowing the harshness of failure, each of the two was already more than willing to participate fully.

To keep her treasured Companion status, she lunged toward the pussy at the bell and started eagerly. Each of her thumbs pushed against the sensitive area between Katria's legs and her fingers stimulated Katria's cunt mound. Aaron's written evaluation of their introductory session indicated that both girls would respond eagerly to all orders. Puppy would have an easy afternoon.

Katria rolled her head back and verbalized her needs and desires to the novice pussy eater. "Wanda, first lick around my lips with the tip of your tongue. Yes, ahhh. Right." Wanda had no trouble getting her partner to juice up her shaved and smooth cunt. Puppy had directed that each girl shave herself prior to the morning's training session. Wanda drove Katria to her first orgasm within three minutes. The computer stopped the clock, paused for the entire duration of each orgasm, and only started up again, with another ding, when Katria's muscle spasms deep in her belly subsided and her heartbeat dropped to 110 beats per minute. Thus, the forty-five minute training session actually lasted a good hour. Katria had twelve computer confirmed orgasms.

At the end of the hour, forty-five minutes of actual cunt lapping, the girls switched places in a carefully orchestrated maneuver that kept Puppy fully in absolute control of her charges. It was Wanda's turn to be locked down onto an adjacent raised mattress bed and Katria moved over to face her already drooling pussy. Wanda was very receptive to just about anything sexual and almost came before the starting buzzer. An hour or so later, the computer shut down after confirming fifteen orgasms in forty-five minutes of energetic, enthusiastic cunt lapping.

Aaron and Puppy wanted to keep as much positive reinforcement in the very valuable slaves training regime. The same personality profiles that made them ideal sexual companions for a rich and famous owner, also made them responsive to reward. Given the intensive nature of the two-hour training block, and that the pair exceeded their assigned goals, Puppy confirmed the reward choice with a handy placard. Puppy spastically moved her two hands toward a tennis ball on her armrest. After she got the ball under control, she lifted it up, revealing a marker stuck in the opposite side. Still a little shaky with her new hands, she somewhat awkwardly wrote their score and her decision: "=95= Your choice of reward & you may speak."

It was an indication of how much the girls changed in just thirty-six hours. They joyfully congratulated themselves and spoke together for the first time since their capture. Knowing they could talk later amongst themselves, in unison they told Puppy, "We pick the hot tub, Mistress."

Puppy nodded and pointed to Katria's free arms. Katria hastily latched her wrists onto her waistband and Puppy had her master controller free her ankles. Katria quickly moved aside and knelt down, waiting for her companion to join her. Puppy again used the controller to free Wanda's collar and ankles. Like Katria, she quickly moved to her new lover's side and knelt down. Each looked submissively at the blue mattress below.

The only hot tub in the training area was located in room five in the A Row area. Typically, only the more higher valued Companion Class slaves uses this area. All other slaves used the B Row area facilities. The Companion Class slaves got the best classrooms, library, bedroom, kitchen (for teaching cooking and etiquette classes), and of course the one and only hot tub. The slaves would never know, but Puppy rated a large Jacuzzi tub in her living area.

Each training room was externally identical with a five-foot arched entry and no door. A curtain inside could be used for privacy only if the trainer decided it was necessary. This would seldom occur. The most important feature was a short segment of the number One Loop Circuit buried under the opening. After Katria and Wanda passed through the entry to the hot tub area, Puppy pushed an activation button beside the arch. The buried loop of wire locked Katria and Wanda into the room, under the scrutiny of their ever-vigilant collars. Unbound and free, they ran around the room with joy. The companions could partake of whatever was in the refrigerator; today its stocks were limited to plastic bottles of still and sparkling mineral water. Puppy had previously placed a single banana and an apple on a counter beside the refrigerator. The girls would decide themselves how to split the fruit amongst themselves.

Big fluffy towels were stacked on a table next to the already swirling hot water in the tub. Mounted conspicuously on an interior wall was another electronic countdown clock. Puppy entered forty-five minutes from the pad outside the room and started the clock. The reward time was special, but it was limited. Built into every room were several video feeds, microphones, and sensors (infrared and microwave) that constantly send visual and audio signals to a large console in Aaron's warehouse office and to a similar unit in Puppy's upstairs office area.

Wanda and Katria squealed with joy, grabbed plastic bottles of sparkling water, and sunk gratefully into the soothing water. Katria wrapped her arm possessively around the younger girl and said, "Wanda, please be my friend. I am so sorry for hating you at the office so much. Thank you especially for yesterday. You were the one that cut that awful punishment session in half. I love you for that." Without waiting for a reply, the normally homophobic and previously sexually unresponsive girl gave her companion a kiss on the cheek and caressed her hands down the slim woman's form.

Wanda was silent. She felt no verbal response was necessary. Instead, she turned sideways, grabbed her new friend and lover by the face, and gave her a soul-wrenching kiss. Her hands immediately slid down and harshly grabbed her friend's huge breasts and yanked her into a passionate embrace. "Katria," she said, "I've longed to touch you since yesterday. First while Robert fucked you so well, and then as my tongue became numb from working on your sweet cunt."

While the two companion slaves enjoyed their reward, Puppy was busy. First, she cleaned the mattress pads and EKG leads, and then she rearranged all the equipment and cords to a storage position to await their next use. Puppy enjoyed her newfound freedom and reveled in the restored range of motion in her arms and legs as she hurried to finish her tasks. Training placards were set into place and a cosmetics videotape and a language cassette had to be found in the A Row Library. The videotape went to a classroom and the cassette was loaded in the exercise equipment sound system. Puppy was getting into the rhythm of the training routine. She loved it.

The two girls in the hot tub, already conditioned to take all the pleasure they could, had collapsed into giggles and laughed as their hands fought to explore every inch of the body of their former rivals. Their hairless, slick cunts ended up humping each other for hard pelvic stimulation as they continued to kiss and caress. Neither could believe the erotic feel of their partner's trim and youthful bodies in the soothing water. All too soon, the five-minute warning buzzer drew their attention to the dwindling time remaining and the need to prepare for their next session.

For the next training, in Classroom 7A, Wanda and Katria seated themselves side by side in front of a long vanity mirror and makeup table. Their dog-training collars were back to the 'no speech' mode. Puppy only freed their arms from the waistbelt after the two trainees locked their feet into position on the long bench. A small television / VCR unit occupied the center of the vanity counter. Again, Puppy placed a training placard in a conspicuous spot with details of the day's cosmetics lesson. Katria and Wanda surveyed the duplicate array of cosmetics, brushes, sprays, combs and the like arrayed in front of each of them. With a silent shrug, Katria hit the play button. Each carefully followed the video, first in a series by a famous cosmetics and fashion firm. The instruction started with the basics and the girl's eagerly participated. Despite the introductory nature of this first lesson, it was well done and each girl learned something. There was a written quiz afterward and a study guide provided for placement in the first of may study notebooks the girls would build and keep in their cages. After the cosmetics lesson, the two girls moved to a nearby sink and scrubbed their faces clean.

The third class of the day, now well into the afternoon, found the blonde and brunette standing naked on two side-by-side walking machines. The girls picked up a four-foot chain and let their waistbelts lock automatically onto the tab welded onto the end. Puppy then turned off the collar voice controls and watched for a short moment as each girl read their common training placard set on a stand before them. Each slave put on a set of audio headphones and began walking. The preset exercise program of the day was for a slow, leisurely one hour walk simultaneous with an introductory French lesson echoing through their headsets.

Puppy stood and watched Katria's ample breasts bobble enticingly as she was forced to match paces with the machine's pace. Her slimmer companions A size titties and tighter ass barely jiggled at the leisurely exercise pace. The muscles under her slender form flexed and moved in an erotic manner. Aaron told Puppy that each would need a training bra for any of the vigorous training sessions conducted later.

Doctor Rachael Quaid and Aaron (she thought of him as Robert Morgan) had just finished speaking about Wanda and the breast augmentation surgery as the two girls started their walking / language session. After some mutual discussion, Rachael proved her worth to the organization. Aaron was still too new to the business to break free from simple linear thinking. Rachael suggested that while a matched pair of titties was perfect, and Wanda was clearly deficient in the sex goddess look, Katria was not yet perfection either. Katria's ample C cup looked well balanced on her larger frame, but it was not everything that Aaron and Steve envisioned in a finished sex companion. The idea was to create a slightly porn-star / slut body with the mannerism and education of an upper-class woman from the best finishing schools and universities the world offered. Too large, and the breasts' true slut / whore look could never be compensated by the rest of the package. It was a tough choice in balances.

Rachael suggested that the best approach would be to augment Katria's breasts from a C to a D cup. That meant that the initially proposed A to B+ cup suggestion for Wanda's 105 pound frame would not be enough to visually match Katria's then larger breasts. Instead, the doctor suggested that a full C cup on the slender frame would perfectly match the ex-paralegal's new breasts. The other advantage was that surgery could proceed Sunday evening and the girls could recover under Puppy's care while Rachael Quaid and Robert Morgan left Monday on their Caribbean jaunt to settle Rachael into her new life away from the continental United States. Neither of the two conspirators thought to include Katria's permission as a prerequisite for her upcoming surgery.

Katria and Wanda finished their dual physical exercise and language training with a written and taped verbal quiz. Puppy would arrange to courier the test papers and audio tapes to a nearby linguist that did contract work for the organization. He was paid to evaluate their progress and provide guidance for their training curriculum. Wanda and Katria were expected to become extremely proficient in Spanish, Italian, and French. Cultural and historical lessons would come for each of the study countries. Latter, they would receive orientation class work in Portuguese, Arabic, Japanese, Russian, and Korean. Of course, their English vocal and written skills would also be honed to allow them to pass among the best educated elite of the world. Lastly, recent current worldwide events would bring the two fully up to date.

Steve commented to Aaron that he was sure to have a buyer for the pair soon. Delivery would not occur until some point after a rigorous six-month training program. The initial bid request was already set for $8 million. Steve did not expect much initial activity on his secure website. But he expected interest would pick up as Puppy compiled short video clips of the two showing their physical progress and the training work required of the two. Puppy would post the complete training program along with test scores and the many written evaluations the trainer would make on the sexual companions.

Within a few training sessions, the girls would start demonstrating their learned sexual skills on Puppy. Aaron had elaborate safety precautions to allow Puppy to enjoy muscle massages, full body rubs, and oral sexual stimulation (mouth to mouth and mouth to cunt). Puppy already looked forward to anal and vaginal sex from the two using the strap-on dildos. Puppy would hold a dead-man switch during these close encounters and Wanda or Katria would be chained, blindfolded, gagged, or bound as much as the scenario would allow.

This would provide practice for the slaves and both gratification and first-hand knowledge of her students' skills. These newfound skills would provide the basis for many glowing training reports from Puppy to Steve.

The intent of the huge investment Steve Austin and Aaron Clarke were sinking into the two slaves was to gross at least $12 million from their unique offering. Many rich men and women around the world had trophy mates and companions they could show off. Most were shallow, empty-headed twits. None of these rich could acquire two matched beautiful pleasure sluts as talented as Katria and Wanda that could hold their own in any social setting. Once trained, Katria and Wanda would go anywhere in public with their new owners.

Prior to their sale, Doctor Quaid would surgically insert a newly miniaturized version of the dog-training collar system into the girls' bodies. A miniaturized throat controller would be set near their vocal cords and a power unit / punishment unit would go into their body cavity just above the ovaries. The tiny throat transponder cued the main unit that provided the remote programmable computer to keep the girls under appropriate control. An induction coil in the units allowed for charging without contacting a wire or plug. Finally, a GPS chip in the computer could be activated for control by other training computers held by their new Master or Mistress. One reason for the girl's high value was their willing participation in the new lifestyles. The control devices would probably never have to be used. The system was simply a method of insurance to protect the new owners while reminding the girls that absolute obedience was expected for the rest of their lives.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 14 – Ingrid Gives up Her Life Savings (or A Bondage Slut is Born)

It was now Sunday afternoon; the scheduled time for Aaron to break in his two new slaves, Ingrid Gaviard (Piggy) and Sandy Hamilton, and fill out their vital statistics cards. They were acquired late on Saturday night and stewed alone in their cages Sunday morning in order to allow the dog-training collars to begin their remorseless training regimes and forced introduction to slavery. Aaron was having a busy day. First, getting Puppy started on her day as Training Mistress just three days after Aaron freed her. Now this important first training session followed by Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid's planned surgery on Wanda and Katria. Then the rest of the evening and night would require finishing up details for the upcoming days. Monday morning he planned to fly to the Cayman Islands with Rachael. Puppy would be busy and alone for the upcoming week. It was risky, but Aaron had to conclude wrapping up the loose ends from the Doctor Patricia Kay fiasco.

Aaron sat down, thoroughly naked and throbbingly aroused, and admired the two forms in front of him. The slightly chunky blonde was bound upright to a steel column designed and welded together by Aaron. He chose blue binding cord to fasten the new slave's arms to the cross piece and to decorate her ample breasts with a figure-eight tie. Her long blonde hair was tightly braided and encased in a leather sheath that held her head back against the pole. Sandy's bright red ballgag was also strapped around the pole, further immobilizing her head.

Sandy's feet were locked down to the floor, widely spaced to open up her pussy for use. Aaron locked eyes with the scared shitless woman and grinned both at her helpless plight and her ignorance of what was to follow. Sandy's last conscious thought before waking to horror in her cage was her brutal rape of the slut bound before her. The merciless collar she wore now for over twenty-four hours enforced her silence with the threat of instant, demobilizing pain. Aaron had just moved her from her cage and tied her at this post moments ago.

Ingrid had undergone identical treatment until Aaron started to tie her up. She now lay on a waist-high steel table with a thin black mattress pad. She was on her belly only due to the cruel backward arch of her spine. A leather sheath also tightly gripped her long black hair; as an integral part of her bondage, it was viciously tightened back to the hogtie holding her wrists and ankles together. Her face was distorted in pain and stress from the painful position. A nostril claw stretched her nose open and up toward her eyebrows. Drool puddled under her arched head from the leather-clad ringgag widely distending her jaw. Ingrid was a very uncomfortable woman.

Aaron turned off the girls' collars from his master controller and greeted them with, "Good morning sluts. Welcome to your new life. My name is Master. Later you will meet your Training Mistress after you each receive a full punishment session to let the reality of your situation sink in. Then, Little Miss Piggy and I have a serious conversation scheduled. Hmmm, who wants to go first?"

"Piggy looks a little too tied up for now. So, I guess you volunteer, Sandy." Aaron offered with a grin. Today's lesson was to be different from what he presented the day before to his new pleasure companion sluts. Sandy and Ingrid had much less value, and required lesser training. Despite this difference in value, all his toys deserved their full PPP rating, though with different end uses.

Aaron picked up the same cat-o-nine-tails that thoroughly cowed Wanda and Katria the morning before. Aaron ran his fingers across the ropes tightly securing Sandy to the pole. "Gosh, this little slut is overweight." His fingers pinched and pulled at the small rolls of baby fat pinched up by the bondage cord. "A weight loss regime is in order. Only high protein, low fat meals and lots of exercise are in store for you. Oh, girl, you'll love it," Aaron laughed heartily as he lied. She would drop from her 135-pound level to 120 pounds within a month. The control modes of the walker, cross-trainer, bicycle, and the rowing machine would ensure that. "This girl may not ever have the chance to snack again," he mused. As a final bit of humiliation, he yanked a clump of pussy hair out by its roots and viciously twisted each nipple. Bound as tightly as she was, her only possible physical response was her widely opened eyes and muffled protests through her gag. Sandy was thankful at least that the horrid collar was turned off.

Suddenly her breasts exploded with pain. She yowled and howled mindlessly into her gag as blow after blow struck her sensitive skin. Nothing was spared. Her titties, belly, open pussy and cunt mound, thighs, legs, feet, and shoulders all received excruciating caresses from the whip's many strands. Unable to breathe because of the tears and snot clogging her nose, she started to suffocate.

Aaron was carefully watching for just this moment. He yanked the red ball out of her mouth. Too winded to screech anymore, she simply gasped air back into her starved lungs. The whipping just proved she was not the worldly-wise woman she thought she was. Sandy reflected to herself that this scene was beyond any that she had watched unfold or participated in. Clearly, this man was way more into D&S than she could ever imagine.

A near replica of Aaron's monster cock lay on a small table beside some other bondage and torture implements. Aaron picked up a damp cloth and carefully wiped her filthy face. "Shush now, no talking or I whip you again. Your collar is off, but I want only silence from you."

Sandy resolved right then to never tempt this man to punish her again. Her tight bondage only allowed her silence as a response to his statement.

Aaron threw the soiled cloth into a bucked and picked up the dildo. He turned back to Sandy and gently but steadily, fucked it up into her cunt. The fear and adrenaline had damped her pussy, not any sexual excitement from the situation. But in the dildo went, somewhat aided by her body's natural response to lubricate when physically stimulated.

He yanked it out and set it back on the table. After donning a pair of latex gloves, he opened a small plastic container. The crisp scent of wintergreen wafted from the open can. Aaron dabbed two fingers in the cream and rubbed the stuff onto the rubber cock. He returned to Sandy and smeared a little bit of the cream across her upper lip. The scent was overpowering and burned her eyes. "Remember, no noise," he whispered before he seated the dildo fully up her cunt in one smooth gliding movement.

Sandy didn't notice anything at first. Then she felt the man she knew as Michael Moore cleaning his gloved fingers off on her cunt lips, clip, and pubic hair. Her sensitive flesh started to feel warm, then hot, and finally unbearable as the powerful coaches' liniment started to burn her soft and vulnerable tissues. Aaron pinched her lips together and reminded her, "Scream and you get whipped and gagged again." He then wrapped a leather strap up between her legs and around her waist to secure the fake cock deep within her belly.

He sat down and threw the used latex gloves into the trash bucket. A six-pack cooler beside him held four ice-cold beers. He drank long and appreciatively from the Pacifico, ignoring the pain wracked Sandy to suffer in silence. Her pony tail anchored her head and kept her from flailing about as she tried to expel the burning penis from her tortured cunt. Afraid to speak, she cried and hoped she would pass out.

Aaron looked over at Ingrid lying painfully atop the adjacent table in obvious torment and abject fear. He placed a small notepad beside the terrified woman's head and said, "Dear girl, you are truly mine now and forever, at least until I decide otherwise. You just saw what happened with Sandy. Do you want the same or worse?"

Ingrid could barely wriggle her body, but she tried to shake her head no and vigorously tried to speak, "Hmfff, ughhh, ughhh," into her ringgag in as best a signal of negativity as she could make.

Aaron rubbed her cheek and released the nose claw and then the ponytail bondage. The cuff securing her ankles and wrists was also removed. Ingrid's legs fell down to the leather mattress lifelessly. Her cheek fell heavily to the puddle of drool and she panted in relief.

Aaron then disconnected the wrist cuffs and locked her left wrist into her waist belt, leaving free her right arm. Aaron swung the sweaty girl into an upright, seated position and placed the writing pad onto her thighs. "Ingrid, I have a deal for you," Aaron started.

Ingrid looked over at the man she knew as Michael Moore and hoped that it was a good deal and not more of the same he had dealt her already. She heard him remind her that Sandy had played a primary role in her rape and humiliation at the bar and then in her apartment. Ingrid remembered her brutal vaginal and anal rape from the relentless dildo strapped to Sandy's waist.

Aaron continued with, "Ingrid, the slut is yours to train for the next month if you help me out. No pain, punishment, or intentionally humiliating acts for you during that period as long as you follow through with her training as I lay it out. Think, Ingrid, one month of payback."

Ingrid countered back with, "Six weeks. I want her for six weeks, … and with my clothes back. Don't leave me like this for the whole six weeks."

Aaron grinned back at her and grinned, "Girl, you are not in much of a bargaining position. I could torture the information I want from you. To be honest, I have reasons for preferring that you do Sandy's training. Be careful that you don't make it too expensive for me." He got up and walked around the two helpless girls, finally stopping beside Sandy's sweat streaked form. "Sandy, you realize what is going to happen?" Aaron asked her as his hands cupped her sore breasts.

Sandy, silent until spoken to started to beg, "No! Michael, please not her. It was supposed to be a game, not like this." Then she screamed, "Eiiiii!" as he struck her titties with the whip; once, and then again after a measured pause.

"My name is only Master from the likes of you," he said sternly. "OK," he spoke decisively as he spun to address the also naked Ingrid. "Here is my counter: You get to train the slut for six weeks while in a privileged trainer status in exchange for doing as I ask with the notepad."

Ingrid smiled hesitantly and stammered, "A…and the clothes, Master?"

Aaron grinned and said, "Well, they are a side bet in addition to our simple agreement. If you want clothes, then you have to risk something in return. Deal?"

"Yes, at least about our agreement. I want time to get even with her, but I won't risk that for clothes," Ingrid countered smartly.

Aaron laughed and said, "This is more fun than I thought it would be. OK. Here's the bet: Win or lose, you get the clothes. Lose and you owe me a full twenty-four hour slave day each week, to be served without clothes. With such generous terms, the catch is you don't know the bet till you agree. However, it will be fair." He idly tweaked one of Sandy's full breasts as he pretended nonchalance. His stiff boner belayed any real sign of disinterest.

Ingrid agreed and Aaron reiterated, "You help me, you get the bitch here and special treatment for yourself for six weeks, time served with clothing. The contest will be this afternoon after you fulfill your part of the bargain."

With that, Aaron explained what he discovered after going through the financial records he removed from her home. Ingrid Gaviard had full access to what had been a trust fund established by her rich grandparents. She had $1.25 million in cash, bonds, and stocks from this fund. Additionally, she had saved a considerable retirement account of her own. Now thirty-six, she had been saving since she was twenty-one. Ingrid could quickly convert another $325 thousand into cash. Aaron explained that since she was now property, she could never have her money. It was best to for her to use the money as barter to better her position as his slave.

Ingrid blanched at this. She now had a better understanding of how detail oriented this man was. He thought of everything. "Master, twelve weeks, please. That's over a $100 thousand a week. Surely, that's way more than my body is worth. Please."

Despite the words themselves, the tone was not begging, it was respectful. Aaron considered the offer. Ingrid was correct in that her value as stock was considerably less than the cash she could access. He loved the delicious irony of getting her both as a slave and as a functioning trainer. It was worth it to Aaron. Torture was not something that he wished to impose upon innocents. He agreed, she smile and then hesitantly asked, "Can you please make this deal a promise? Master?"

Aaron pulled the sloppy dildo from Sandy's cunt and slid on a condom as Ingrid busied herself with the notepad behind him. He unclipped Sandy's ankles and stepped in between her legs, tightly holding the outside of each knee. Aaron swung Sandy's cunt toward his cock and hands-free, let its head burrow around her blonde curls until it aligned itself. Sandy's body sunk down and of its own weight fucked down onto Aaron.

Sandy was still in torment. While Aaron and Ingrid spoke, the hot fire in her vagina subsided to an awful itch. His hard wood felt cool to her abused cunt walls as she sank down onto it. She got a little relief as the fuckstick rubbed against her inner walls. "Yessss," she gasped in uncontrolled relief. Then he hit rock bottom and stopped moving. Sandy felt the burning itch returning and tried to hump her hips against his. She felt his strong grip on her knees intensify, keeping her tightly locked into place. Much more stimulation was needed to quench the burning. Finally she begged, "Master! Please, fuck me! Please … please, … please. Scratch my cunt. It's burning so. Fuck me!"

Sandy's wailing and begging interrupted Ingrid's concentration at the notepad. She looked up and watched with some interest as the haughty bitch that so abused her was reduced to a pathetic whimpering whore.

Aaron turned and looked back at Ingrid. "What should I do? Fuck her or leave her in misery?"

"Oh, Master. Have mercy on the slut and fuck her. Maybe then she'll shut up and I can concentrate on this."

Aaron smiled and moved his hands from the knees to under each full ass cheek. He viciously yanked then into his groin and started to fuck into her with strong strokes. Fingertips on one hand could feel under her ass where his cock slid in and out of her desperate cunt. The other hand's fingers brushed against her tight anus and his middle finger wormed its way in.

Sandy constantly kept up her, "Fuck, … fuck, … fuck me," or her "Oh, yessss, that's better," as her pussy sought relief from the liniment. She felt a finger, and then another start to spiral into her rectum, increasing the tightness of the feeling of his plunging dick against her pussy walls. Sandy felt herself spasm as she lost control and came hard against him. She started to relax from the vigorous fuck.

Before she could finish the orgasm, he yanked both her nipples up to above her chin and hissed, "Cunt, you better keep going until I'm finished."

Sandy involuntarily shifted her hips forward trying to climb up his body to relieve the stress on her poor stretched-out nipples. The pain eased some as she started to buck against him with what little strength remained. Incredibly, she felt herself getting aroused again. The fast plunging dick was beyond soothing, it became something that she craved. The first time she begged for a fuck, it was because of the liniment, this time it was because she felt like a wanton slut. "Yes, Master. Yes, … fuck me, … fuck your slut, … your slave slut. Ahhh," and she came again.

This time, Aaron was finished. As he felt her uncontrolled spasms deep within her womb, he also started to spurt. It felt so good. He had truly dominated this woman. Between the collar, the whip, the threat of training by Ingrid, and his cock, the girl was beaten. As an added plus, she now thought of herself as a slut, a slave slut, his slave slut. Yes, life was good.

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

Later, Aaron had the necessary account logon identifications and passwords to unlock Ingrid's accounts. That night, he would start the process of moving her funds to his islands accounts. Later, he would travel and physically remove the cash for redeposit into safer accounts than that of Michael Moore or Robert Morgan. After all, he did plan on visiting with Connie Baxter soon.

During their lunch subsequent to Sandy's punishing introduction to slavery, Aaron explained the contest rules to Ingrid, "The contest will be about wringing pleasure and sexual submission from an unwilling participant. This is a timed event. You go first and then I will try to beat your time. The first victim is Sandy. Tell Puppy how you want her arranged and she will be waiting for us later this afternoon. Your goal is to make her cum, twice. We will want to rest up for the contest.

Ingrid and Aaron were sitting at a table overlooking the training area. Ingrid was wearing a tight cocktail sheath that she and Puppy retrieved from her clothes stored in one of the high security storage areas. Puppy had acted kindly to Ingrid and helped her shower, groom herself, and arrange her clothing in her cage. Noticeably missing was any lingerie or footwear beyond heels. Puppy, voiceless forever due to Doctor Patricia Kay's revenge, awkwardly penned a note informing the girl that lingerie was forbidden to property and despite her lucky status, she was still essentially livestock. Ingrid was to be in high heels whenever she had clothes on. No heels, no clothes. The only thing close to an exception was during Ingrid's mandatory workout sessions. Then she would wear leotards, a sports bra, and cross-trainer shoes. Puppy was quick to point out that the other slaves exercised naked except for the shoes and sports bras.

Ingrid set down her fork after nibbling on a slice of strawberry. "Master, what's the other part of the contest that takes place after I make her come," Ingrid asked. She hated this woman Sandy and she disliked having to pleasure her. "Ughh, yeach!" she thought to herself.

"Ingrid, the second half of the contest will show you how fair I am," Aaron grinned. "Your score will be the milestone for me to beat in getting another unwilling slave to come, twice also." He paused to let this sink in and continued, "Of course, unlike Sandy, you have much more to gain by resisting."

Ingrid sat in stunned silence. "He wants to make me climax. No way. I know that I can hold out longer than that slut Sandy," she murmured to herself. Then she groaned in dismay as the reality of the situation hit. She knew that she orgasmed like a whore every time Michael Moore, or Sandy for that matter, abused her sexually. Moreover, she was uncertain that she could take an active enough role in pleasing Sandy to win the contest.

Aaron and Ingrid enjoyed a surprisingly easy conversation for the remainder of lunch, despite the odd nature of the situation and their relationship. Ingrid learned details of how Puppy was to be her Mistress and obeyed in every way the same as her Master.

"So, Ingrid," Aaron started to conclude their dialog. "In a sense, if you lose, then it's the fault of your mind and body that you become enslaved for those twelve days."

Ingrid responded back with some bravado, "Master, you haven't won yet." She didn't realize that by her very actions and speech that she had already accepted her lot as his slave.

Aaron nodded and simply replied, "OK then. If you have nothing more, Puppy will let you shower and rest before the contest. By the way, I want you in this same outfit when it's your turn to resist."

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

Far too soon for Ingrid, it was time for the contest. Ingrid was refreshed after several hours of attempted napping. Much of the time, she thought over the two upcoming scenarios that were so important to her future. Ingrid's request to Puppy for Sandy's disposition was simple. "Have the slut naked and spread-eagled on a cushiony floor mat."

Aaron started one of the oversize timer clocks with a simple, "Time."

Ingrid started her task with some trepidation. She made the mistake of approaching the sexual contest with the same rules she would prefer in a romantic interlude. Thus, she was doomed to lose. Aaron knew this within a minute of the contest's commencing.

She started by sensuously wriggling her clad body as she approached Sandy's bound form. She knelt beside the blonde, caressed, and rubbed the girl's form. It was too slow. Yes, Sandy's internal fires did start to smolder when the beautiful woman crawled and writhed her silken form across her body.

"Five minutes," Aaron called out loudly.

This was the point at which Ingrid was forced to start using her lips, mouth, and teeth on the captive below her. She realized that time was flying by, but had no idea how fast a woman could climax, if approached correctly. Her hands also started to focus more on Sandy's erogenous zones. She rolled her hands up the sides of the woman's breasts and teased her nipples. Sandy actually moaned for the first time as Ingrid sucked painfully hard on her tender throat. The two girls started to wriggle together in time to a hidden beat.

"Ten minutes."

Ingrid forced herself down to the girl's belly button and her hands felt the way ahead by exploring the woman's pussy area. Ingrid felt the coarse and curly blonde hair protecting Sandy's cunt and moved her tongue down for a first tentative lick of her labia. She felt Sandy start to hump up her hips to meet her tongue and that gave her the encouragement to bury her face in the aromatic cunt in front of her. Ingrid went for the gold, the straining honeypot that fed her lips the sweet dew of arousal.

"Fifteen minutes." The clock was remorseless, much like the training collars. Ingrid decided to hate them both.

Finally, Sandy broke her silence with, "Oh, oh. You teasing bitch. Eat me. Please God, eat me!" The last was a scratchy scream as Ingrid finally managed to nibble her clit. Ingrid sped up her stimulation of the clit and slowly moved two fingers into the steamy cunt below. When three fingers hit the web of skin by her hand, Sandy screamed in orgasm, "Ahhh, … ahhh, … yessss, … you bitch." She then slumped down.

Aaron announced, "First orgasm, seventeen minutes, thirty seconds. Continue, Ingrid."

Ingrid started to slurp and suck with a vengeance. She also shifted her form around so that her cunt was angled back toward Sandy's face. A hurried yank brought her short skirt above her waist and she stuck her cunt into Sandy's nose. "Eat that, you skanky cunt."

Surprisingly, after all the abuse Sandy had received, and the slow easy orgasm that she just finished, the humiliation of the comment actually set her off like a firecracker. It was also the moment that Ingrid stopped acting like a nice lover and jammed four full fingers of her hand into the girl's drooling cunt. Sandy howled in pain and lust and her hips echoed the spasms that started to wrack her body. Ingrid, realizing that her time was finished, folded her thumb between her fucking fingers and punched into Sandy's cunt. Impossibly, she set off another round of uncontrolled orgasms and writhing.

The first round of the contest ended with nineteen minutes, ten seconds on the clock.

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

Ten minutes later, a sweaty and somewhat tired Ingrid hung loosely from two ropes in Training Area H. Normally, this area was reserved for punishment because the Punishment Cage had many attachment points for displaying victims. Ingrid stood nervously on her heels and watched as Puppy set the clock up in her own clear line of sight.

Aaron sat in his comfortable chair and looked at the delectable sight before him. He was already hard anticipating the delicious contest to come. It was time for another twist. "You did well, Ingrid. I think you convinced the slut to cooperate with you. She seemed to climax fast, long, and hard. Don't you think?"

Ingrid was silent. She stood there considering how best to resist his coming advances. "I say again, Master. You haven't beaten me yet." This last was spoken quietly and with respect, no boisterous bravado now.

"I have a double or nothing bet for you. The nothing involves your unconditional release from captivity, along with your savings. Are you interested?" Aaron asked somewhat mockingly.

"You would release me if I win?" she asked with quiet hope.

"Oh, yes. If you win, you go free. You have to last just one second longer than half of Sandy's time, that's nine minutes thirty-six seconds. The down side is not too bad for you either. You already owe me one day a week as a slave if you lose. This won't change that much. If you lose, then each night you act the slave, I will give you to another slave to enjoy for the night. A sweet reward for them, and humiliation for you."

Ingrid felt her cunt twitch at the thought of humiliating herself to a slave. The lure of freedom was too much. She was enough of a fighter to go for it, "Yes, Master. It's a deal."

With that, Aaron sprang up from his chair, threw off his robe, and said, "Puppy, start the timer."

Ingrid saw him stride quickly circling her once before vanishing behind her. His hands quickly slid from her hips, up across her tight, already aching breasts, and strongly clasped her throat. She felt his lips and tongue wet her throat under an earlobe and his voice mockingly spoke into her ear, "Slut, I can smell the musk of another woman on your face. I think you crave this, want this, enjoy sucking orgasms out of cunts, pussies, and cocks. Hmmm, what do you say, whore? Are you made for this?" his voice hissed ever more silently as he finished the sentences. Again, her pussy throbbed. "Ahhh, my traitorous cunt," she moaned to herself. Her intent to steel herself against his advances was completely foiled by the direction of his attack. She expected caresses, kisses, and romance. She was wrong.

Just seconds into the competition, she felt his strong clenching hands drift down to her hem and brutally split her dress in half. It hung from her thin shoulder straps in tatters, fully exposing her breasts and cunt. Then his hands rolled across her hips and clenched tightly on either side of her cunt lips. Part of each hand yanked the thighs apart, other fingers stretched out her cunt lips, exposing her pink insides to the cool warehouse air. His voice then hissed into her ear again from his position behind her body, "Whore, look into the camera that will capture your sexual submission and self-subjugation into slavery."

She lifted her head in horror to see Puppy aiming a large video camera at her from a tripod beside the timer clock. His fingers slid across her wet and gaping pussy and pinched her clit hard, once and then a second time. Her body erupted in an orgasm. Unlike Sandy's slow and easy first orgasm, this was one for Ingrid's scorebook of personal bests. She howled and her legs twitched like a gutted frog's, his hands still held her pussy and legs obscenely wide open.

Aaron looked at the clock and declared, "One minute, five seconds." He then let her slump down painfully from her arms stretched high above her. He left her limp and panting form behind and opened an ice-cold bottle of Pacifico from his little portable cooler. He reflected that the beer was perfect for the occasion. After a moment, he returned to stand beside the stricken woman. He yanked a handful of her loose black hair and pulled her forehead back. He stuck the beer into her mouth and commanded, "Drink, cunt. You are one orgasm from slavery or freedom. You need the drink."

Still keeping up the domineering Master approach, Aaron faced her holding the cat-o-nine-tails. "You get nineteen strokes, one for each minute of your failure to arouse your charge, your slave, your victim. Ingrid, you have to do better." Without further ado, he stroked the cat fully across her breasts, then up between her legs, fully kissing her cunt, ass, and back with the strands. The whip seemed eager to draw pain to every nerve ending of the woman. He turned his attention to her back, ensuring that the caressing strands found her breasts from around her sides. At the nineteenth stroke, Aaron glanced at the clock and stated loudly, "Five minutes. You have to hold out for another four minutes, six seconds. Good luck."

This time Aaron again approached her from the rear, a condom already mounted on his pulsating cock. It glistened from a substantial coating of sexual lubricant. Aaron pulled two soft nooses down from pulleys built into the cage above. He flipped each noose around an ankle and tugged each line until her legs were just above horizontal, and widely splayed apart.

Ingrid felt Aaron's breath on her ear again. He spoke, "Puppy, move the camera in closer. I want to see close-ups of her begging for my dick in her ass. Ingrid, it's the only way you get fucked, if you beg for it in the ass. That's it, Puppy, now lower the lens, and focus up between her legs. Yes."

Ingrid now hung helpless from her arms and legs, cunt and ass widely exposed to view, torture, and abuse. Aaron next tied nooses onto two leads of heavy nylon fishing line, fifty-pound weight, and yanked her breasts to the side as he secured each of her titties painfully to the side. His breath returned to her ear. "Six minutes gone. I've bet you come in less than three minutes six seconds."

"She shook her head, felt the movement yank her breasts from side to side and panted, "Ahhh, you surprised me Master. Owww, how can I cum when it hurts so much? You will lose."

"No more bets, Ingrid. You have nothing left to bargain with." He then strode over to his chair and using the rollers, slid across the mattress till his mouth was just under her cunt and ass. His lips encircled her labia and sucked them both into his mouth. With strong suction, he pulled his head back, dragging her hung carcass with him. Ingrid grunted above him as her nipples were distended further away from her body. His tongue stabbed forward into her core and his two lubed fingers on his right hand slid into her tight brown grommet.

"Eiiiii," escaped softly from Ingrid's throat as the slippery fingers eased into her rectum. Simultaneously, she felt his lips circle her clit and start a rough licking motion around her inner labia and up to her clit. He kept repeating the circle of stimulation as the two fingers became three. His other hand kept her ass strongly pulled into his mouth and controlling a circular motion of her ass. The sucking lips followed the tight circle of her ass, but the result was another rhythmic yanking and pulling on her tender nipples. Aaron came up to breathe and read the clock face, "Seven minutes, thirty seconds. If you want to cum, you have to beg me to put it up your ass; else you hang here without climax." His lips and fingers continued to stimulate the overwrought woman.

"Ahhh, yesss. I like that. Ohh, Master it feels so good." Ingrid writhed now against his tongue and fingers heedless of the painful tugs on her nipples. The stimulations all seemed to tug on the same nerve fibers; as if he pulled strings under her skin connecting her cunt, ass, and tits. She was soon lost in the pleasure of the moment, certain she wouldn't cum until he put his cock up her ass.

She faintly heard a strong voice say, "eight minutes," but her overloaded brain ignored its meaning and instead focused on the void missing in her inner core. "Eiii, wonderful. Yes, … yes, … more." And then Aaron stopped and walked over to Puppy. Ingrid saw him kissing and fondling her leather-clad body. Both his hands lovingly held her head for a long, deep kiss. Both Master and Mistress sunk down to the floor and proceeded to make love in front of Ingrid. It was too much. "Get back here!" she commanded. They ignored her. "Please, come back here and fuck me." No response from the kissing couple except that Aaron's hands now disappeared under her short, tight skirt. Ingrid could see Puppy's naked sex being manipulated by the Master. "Master, fuck my ass. Please."

At nine minutes, his erect cock drilled all the way up into her loosened and lubricated rectal chute, in one smooth fucking motion. Aaron then lifted her entire body up an inch or two simply with the up thrust motion of his hips; he then smoothly pulled almost all the way out, her body sank down and wriggled from the first in and out stroke. Her breasts moved wildly around, yanked this way and that by the nylon line. He fucked back up and again used his hips to thrust her ass up into the air. The motion he set up overloaded her nerve bundles that so closely tie the female vaginal canal and rectal chute. His hands were busy drawing open her cunt and pinching her clit. He was not gentle in his lovemaking. Rather, her body was almost a masturbating tool simply intended to derive his orgasm.

Ingrid was in a mindless haze. She was unaware of her second orgasm at nine minutes, five seconds, let alone her third and fourth orgasms by the fourteen minute mark. The contest was over, but the vigorous fucking continued for some time. Aaron was in ecstasy dominating this wonderful piece of fuckmeat. She responded so well and so predictably. Nothing he did sexually to the submissive woman quenched her need for orgasm. She came endlessly with so many back-to-back orgasms that nobody could count. Had Puppy wired her up, the input from blood pressure, heartbeat, and nerves system electrical signals would have indicated at least seven waves of orgasms, some atop the previous unfinished one.

At eighteen minutes, Aaron was back in his chair, pulling off the used condom. It went into a nearby garbage bucket. Puppy already had a second Pacifico ready for him. Her soothing lips were already lapping the jism off his spent cock. Puppy was a greedy devotee of Aaron's. She belonged to him body and soul. Nothing could stop her from serving him, worshiping him, loving him. Her manipulations and the sight of the defeated Ingrid still hanging before him, brought his cock slowly to life. Each time it twitched, Puppy redoubled her efforts to draw more blood and energy into the throbbing muscle. He took Puppy on the mattress in plan sight of Ingrid, the defeated slaves cunt and ass already dribbled her own sex butter and lube from her ass fucking. Both orifices gapped wide open.

Puppy was now in her favorite position. She had set herself down on the erect cock of her lover and Master in a dominant position. Her oversized breasts slung out over the pulled down leather top and gyrating from her wildly fucking hips. Her short shirt had ridden up to her belly button. Aaron again observed how much better the female form could fuck. He could never hope to match the speed and strength of her back and forth rocking, let alone attain her endurance. His sperm pumped up into her greedy cunt that never slackened its pace until defeated, his spent cock finally slipped out with a pop. Puppy attained more orgasms than Ingrid.

It was another wonderful day to be alive. Aaron Clarke and Puppy drifted off to sleep still locked in an embrace. Ingrid hung silently, tears quietly gliding down her cheeks. The odor of her own and Sandy's personal musk hung heavily around her body.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 15 – Cleaning up in the Caymans (or Look Who's Got a Boyfriend)

Aaron Clarke, aka Robert Morgan to Doctor Kay, dozed comfortably in the first class section of a flight taking off for George Town, Grand Cayman. Seated beside him was the beautiful Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid. The couple was on their way to consolidate the assets of what Doctor Patricia Kay had amassed from her lucrative practice in Miami.

Robert sat with his eyes closed and analytically reviewed the doctor's financial situation. He expected that within thirty days, the proceeds from liquidating Doctor Kay's estate, clinic, automobiles, and furnishings, would net approximately $8.455 million for Doctor Quaid. He half hoped that she would betray them; the financial windfall to the organization from confiscating her holdings would be considerable.

Dr. Kay's estate + $5.7 million
Medical clinic + $2.2 million
Two expensive autos + $120 thousand
Designer furnishings + $50 thousand
Artwork collection + $1.4 million
Real estate fees - $948 thousand
Commission on sales - $167 thousand
Net from property = $8.355 million

From the events of Friday morning, Doctor Quaid already knew that she had $4.82 million in her account in Grand Cayman. In addition, she expected considerable funds from the sale of the properties.

Cash from closet safe + $1.2 million
Cash in bank accounts + $220 thousand
Savings, stocks, etc + $3.2 million
Steve and Robert's deposit + $200 thousand
Total from liquid investments = $4.82 million

"$13.175 million," she crowed to herself. Rachael continued to dream of her luck. She had reviewed the numbers just moments ago with Robert. Within a month most, if not all, of the money would be in her account. Rachael would have escaped prosecution, taxes on much of her wealth that had been undeclared, and avoided a cold morgue slab (or worse). She shuddered as she thought of the less pleasant potential outcomes. Rachael shook free from the cold fear that threatened to overwhelm her, and focused her thoughts on a new clinic and location.

Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid was ecstatic that the two tough businessmen were letting her go. The thought of the two million in free work that she owed their organization did not bother her at all. She was already envisioning schemes to speed up her debt payment. Steve didn't want her money; he needed her as a key cog in his business machine. She remembered the discussion with Robert about the free work. Robert said that he and Steve would still pay fifty percent of her expenses until they received the full two million in work. Then, they would return to a fixed-fee basis for any work done. Robert warned Rachael not to cheat her partners; else, Rachael's position would dramatically change for the worse.

Both Robert and Rachael were happy with the events of the last three days. Thursday night, Rachael had been the soon-to-be-in-deep-shit Doctor Patricia Kay. Friday morning she awoke to a chrysalis. Though deeply chastised and aching everywhere, she was rechristened Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid.

On a personal note, the improvement of Puppy's plight was also part of Robert's joy this early Monday morning. Doctor Kay's corrective surgery and prosthetic devices were working out perfectly for Puppy. As a dedicated businessman, he was overjoyed at the profit potential of his current position.

No time was wasted upon landing in Grand Cayman. The two stepped into a waiting limousine and were whisked off to their first banking stop – the local branch of the Banco do Estado de San Paulo.

The bank had already received notification to have $4.82 million in U.S. dollars ready for pickup. Even so, it took three hours to triple-count the money in front of two bank officials.

The funds were packed into bags and the couple left the bank with nearly $5 million cash in the limousine. Next stop was the local branch of Robert Morgan's own bank, the Schroder Cayman Bank & Trust Co. Ltd. His contact, Bank Vice President Jeffrey Danbowsky, paved the way for quick and courteous service. Soon Rachael is $4.82 million richer. Unnoticed by the eager girl, the account had several restrictive provisos. First, as co-owner, Robert had full and complete access to the funds. Rachael, though, had only limited access. She could verify fund balances but could not withdraw anything unless she had Robert Morgan's, or that of one other person's, as yet unnamed, signature. Had she noticed, alarm signals would have been going off in her head. The fund was set up in the same manner as a minor's trust fund would be.

Now, early in the afternoon, the two sat laughing in their hotel's lounge. Rachael felt drawn to this handsome and strong man. The man had treated her honorably. Yes, he had forced her to strip naked. Yes, he had viciously whipped her. Yes, he had coldly raped her pussy and virgin ass. However, he had never taunted her, and he genuinely appeared to have placed the event behind him.

Robert had more or less relaxed his guard at this point. The woman was, undoubtedly, still a risk; but, he felt it was somewhat mitigated by her pleasure regarding her prospects. He also knew that she was happy to escape from her months-long fear and uncertainly. He proposed a toast, "Rachael, to your good hunting tomorrow in Martinique. It is a true paradise."

They clicked their glasses and Rachael crowed inwardly with glee. She and Steve had conferred about her future location and each liked the city of Fort-de-France, the capital of the French possession of Martinique. Rich travelers the world over frequented this lush tropical island. It would provide a perfect haven for Rachael and a lucrative basis for clients seeking absolute privacy during treatment. It was unlikely that the U.S. authorities could ever find her; especially given that all business and personal records were destroyed before the authorities could act to gather evidence. Steve Austin hoped the U.S. authorities would just drop the case against Doctor Kay.

As they basked in the success of the plan, Rachael felt Robert's hands graze across hers again as he set his drink down. She admitted that the orgasms that erupted through her being during her rape, combined with the sheer relief from fear, had kindled long repressed lust. Counting her money that day had been an added aphrodisiac. As her pussy started to ache, she realized that her last months with Puppy had been decreasingly satisfying, partly due to the fear and partly because she unknowingly craved a man's control and thrusting cock.

The potential loss of her assets and freedom had weighted heavily indeed upon her physique and soul. She knew that an associate of Steve could easily create a revenge scenario that was unimaginably horrible. She shuddered as by accident she visualized herself at his mercy – tortured and hanging from a hook – nothing but a 'piece of meat'.

Robert felt her shudder beside him in the confined space of the bar. He slid his arm reassuringly over her shoulders. Pretending that she shivered from cold, he said, "If you are cold, then let's go get you a wrap before dinner. Clothes shopping and my treat," he grinned and managed to look like he really wanted to buy the slut a sweater or shawl to get her a little more comfortable. He was still a little upset that he and Steve couldn't agree yet on what to do with Rachael.

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

Wrapped comfortably in a beautiful hand-crocheted shawl, the two sat closely together at their restaurant table admiring the sunset. Rachael was tired and ready to crash. The romantic dinner on a terrace high over the western Caribbean was perfect. The bar drinks and wine she had poured into her slight frame over three hours only mellowed her further.

She felt Robert's strong presence beside her and she leaned into his solid bulk. "Hmmm," she thought, "he is like a big gentle bear. The claws only come out if they need to." She liked that in a man, despising macho men who flaunt their strength and testosterone. His arm had clasped her shoulders reassuringly for over an hour now.

Robert was happy as well. He planned to do his best to fuck this gorgeous creature beside him. On her best behavior, he had to admit that she was alluring. Fucking her body and mind was more to him than simple revenge for Puppy's treatment. He softly moved his hand from her shawl-covered shoulders to her exposed neck. He gently caressed the vulnerable skin and lightly traced his finger along her delicate earlobe. She shivered under his arm and he squeezed her tightly.

Rachael knew her shiver and his one-armed hug heralded a possible new stage to their relationship. She moved her face toward his and opened her mouth to question the wisdom of mixing business and pleasure.

Robert just muttered, "Hush," and kissed the mouth so poised to speak and ruin the mood.

"Hmmph," she started, and then simply responded to the kiss. It was not hesitant or apologetic, and she truly enjoyed it. Her only recent sex had been from her nearly entirely lesbian-oriented year with her slave Puppy. Robert's perfunctory rape just four nights before had been the first time in several years that anything harder than a tongue had entered her pussy. She involuntarily shifted her hips and thighs just thinking of his impossibly large and hard cock that night.

Robert noted the reaction and in response, his left hand slid across his body and covered her tight belly. As his tongue probed and possessed her mouth, his hand soothingly caressed her stomach and smooth sides. With another quick hug, Robert pulled back and grabbed both glasses.

"Rachael, our final toast of the night," he said as his eyes bored into hers. "Here is to a night of bliss in the Caymans, with the possibility of more tomorrow night in Martinique."

She didn't hesitate. Her glass hit his a little too enthusiastically and red wine covered her fingers. "Whoops," she giggled.

Robert just put his glass down after the toast and grabbed her hand in his. Looking her directly in the eye, his lips locked onto her flesh, he licked and suckled her fingers dry one by one. His left hand returned to her thigh and brought her loose sundress up to her waist. In the dark and now empty patio, nobody would notice.

He then resumed his kiss while his hand smoothly caressed both her thighs from the knees to just short of her now quivering mound. Unexpectedly, the doctor was proving to be a lustful thing.

Rachael's hand went straight to his cock; thereby sealing the deal proposed in the toast.

"God, it really is a big as I remember," she thought with amazement. "I thought maybe it was just my imagination. How did this thing fit into my pussy, let alone my ass?" She moaned in growing lust as her thoughts lingered on the vision of a cock roughly fucking between her splayed legs.

Just to surprise the now out-of-balance woman, Robert smoothly slid down from his seat and gracefully ended up at her feet under the tablecloth. His hand remained on her thighs during the move. Now hidden in front of her, he kissed his way up her sensitive thighs. Quickly now, almost in a frenzied manner, he roughly cupped her silk-covered ass and he effortlessly scooted her panty-covered cunt to his waiting lips and teeth.

Rachael's muscles became limp as his strong hands clenched her ass and his tongue went straight to her pussy. His tongue and her already glistening labia quickly made a sodden mess of her crotch. "Eiiiii," she silently hissed. "Nice and strong!" She leaned forward and dragged him harder into her squirming crotch. "Harder," she hissed aloud to Robert. "Squeeze my ass harder."

He obliged the delightful girl, amazed that the ass and cunt he had brutalized so viciously just four days ago could rebound to such a level of lust.

Rachael's own hands reached down under her wrinkled skirt to grasp her panty waistband. Her thumbs slid down under the stretchy band and moved the sodden silk down over her hips.

Robert smoothly took over, and brought the unwanted panties down past his face and then onward to her heels. His tongue hardly missed a beat, firmly questing for her clit as he removed the black silk. One hand broke free long enough to toss the aromatic silk flimsy up onto the white starched table cloth. He liked the idea of leaving a souvenir for the wait staff.

His teeth now gnawed at her pussy lips, pulling and stretching them, almost bruisingly. His hands now returned to under her now naked and meaty ass and lifted it up. Rachael hung suspended, completely off the chair, held up solely by his searing tongue and strong grasp.

Rachael thought Robert looked like a Greek god as he emerged from under the crisp white table linens. He threw two $100 bills down on top of her crumpled panties and growled, "Let's go, girl."

They left through the patio's vine covered stone archway toward the dark parking area. Just past the arch, Robert drew her between two dense flowering bougainvilleas to a stone bench. He sat down and drew Rachael onto his lap.

As he suckled and nuzzled her neck, he finally spoke, "I like Rachael Quaid so much better than Patricia Kay. I hope we get to be great friends and lovers."

Understanding that he would have found little to like in the villainous and treacherous Patricia, she was especially gladdened to be gaining a strong supporter. Her still cunning mind let her know a protector and ally would be a huge boost in her transition to Doctor Quaid.

She murmured back, "Oh, thank you darling, that's what I needed to hear. Help me get better. Oh, yes, … help me." Her voice quivered at the end when his left hand moved her hand to his bare cock, now magically sticking through this boxers and cotton slacks. Without pause, he swung her leg across his lap and lifted her hungry cunt to just above his rock-hard cock. "Put it in, Rachael," he hissed, "put it in now!"

She blindly complied and fumbled the nearly fist-sized head around her dew-covered labia until she found the right spot. She kicked her heels against his back as a signal to get going. He pulled down in on relentless move. "All, nine, inches, up, your, cunt, girl," he emotionally hissed in a staccato manner into her ear.

Rachael couldn't remember a better feeling cock or a better position in which to fuck. She was drawn forward to his chest as he leaned back, giving the lust-filled woman full access and control of his fuck stick. She took charge and started to rock forward and back, grinding her pubic mound and pussy against his pubic bone as hard as she could on each savage down thrust.

His hands were busy everywhere as her breathing increased from the effort. She flinched a little as his hand unlatched the front clasp of her tight and heavily padded bra.

Robert noticed that flinch and knew she was sensitive about her small breasts. Her bras proclaimed her C+ cup breasts that proudly stood out on her slight frame. The lie was proven as her amazingly hard A cup mounds were mauled by his relentless hands. Fortuitously, her sundress buttoned all the way down the front so he quickly had her totally naked except where the dress hung from her shoulders like a cape. He drew her beautiful tits into his mouth.

Her, "Eiiii," of pleasure proved their sensitivity. As he suckled and chewed her breasts, his hand slid down her bare back to grab her slim buttocks again. He only helped her fucking rhythm, adding strength to her down thrusts. Their pubic mounds ground tightly against each other each time her cunt fell. Their laps were both slithery with cunt butter.

"I am going to ruin these slacks," he thought ruefully. "My dick and brain need to plan these fucks better." In fact, he had also just violated his 'always use condoms with strange pussies" rule. From her file, compiled and updated by Steve, he knew no male had been close enough to get to her cunt for at least two years. He also realized that her loose sundress would easily hide her slimy groin and her soon to be sperm covered thighs. The visualization of his sperm oozing from her puffy, just-fucked cunt lips further spurred his onslaught against her cunt.

Their mutual grunts and wheezes increased in tempo as they each approached climax. Doctor Quaid was the first to break silence with an extremely loud voice, "Oh, you, fuck, …fuck, … fuck, fuck. Fuck me!" that echoed through the hilltop restaurant complex.

Later she slumped back in the car seat, too exhausted to move as the limousine took them both back to the hotel. The chauffer had the nerve to look him in the eye through his reflection in the rear view mirror and grin widely. His white teeth flashed in the dark. "Mon," he started, "what a great night. Huhh?"

Robert grinned and responded, "Yeah, mon, better than you know. I will always remember this trip." With that, Robert pointedly ignored the driver and kissed the forehead of the emotionally wasted girl beside him.

He whispered into her ear, "I think he sat in the limo with his windows down in the parking lot. Maybe he heard you grunting and squealing like a beast in heat?"

She shivered in renewed lust with the thought that the driver had gotten aroused listening to her loud fuck on the bench.

Robert again whispered, "This was your fuck, my dear. I get to chose one later. I promise you will enjoy it and never, ever forget it. First though, you have to freshen up while I do an errand."

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 16 – A Fresh Start in Martinique (or Careful Whom You Trust)

Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid was content. She stretched languidly on the soft, king-sized bed. The naked and still sleeping form of a man lay beside her.

"Oh, God," she thought. "His cock was so perfect. It was way too long since, …" and her inner voice stopped as she realized that due to her preoccupation with: first, protecting herself from investigation and arrest; her revenge against the investigator, Marie Mathis – she had deprived herself of a normal sexual encounter for more than eighteen months. "Actually," she admitted to herself, "you've been such a bitch for so long that you can't remember your last satisfying sexual experience."

Not wanting to wake her exhausted and hopefully satiated partner, Rachael lay quietly and started a slow round of isometric exercises to work out her stiffness and get ready to face the day. She began with her toes and feet; clenching, relaxing, twisting, and repeating the process with every major muscle group and joint.

She blushed furiously and trembled in remembrance as squeezing her sore ass muscles triggered memories from just five evenings ago. That was her last night as Doctor Patricia Kay. In order to be freed from her treacherous past, Patricia Kay had reluctantly agreed to a punishment.

Robert Morgan, her new lover still slumbering beside her, had brutally whipped her and then raped her. Faint marks still criss-crossed her shoulders, back, ass, thighs, and pussy from the vicious blows. "He actually struck me fifty times," she reflected, "… plus, five were on my cunny, … and more on my poor ass."

He had treated Doctor Quaid with dignity and respect since. The next morning, Friday, had been an amazing whirlwind trip through Miami; first lawyers, then banks, her clinic, and lastly his townhouse for the weekend.

Rachael appreciated the time alone he had provided her over the long weekend. "I had a lot to think about," she thought. Little did she realize that while she slept and worked on her prosthetic project for Puppy; her savior, Robert, was busy at his warehouse settling in his new lover and rescued torture slave, the former Miss Marie Mathis. Many cryptic phone conversations and coded internet transmissions between the east and west coast branches of Robert's business occurred throughout his busy weekend.

Events on Monday, only yesterday to the worn out surgeon, had proven to Rachael that she had escaped the certain death she deserved after preparing to testify against Steve Austin and his organization. She knew that the cold ball of fear that had eaten away at her for months only disappeared when her liquid assets were safely moved into her new accounts. By liquidating everything she owned, Robert had helped make her a cash multi-millionaire. Rachael expected her account to grow from over $4.75 million to nearly $13.25 million during the next thirty days.

"No," she reflected, "fucking Robert had not been my intent. But, I will be able to keep him wrapped around my finger as an added insurance policy." Her fingers on one hand had been busy massaging blood into her sore ass cheeks while her other hand idly twined its digits through her stiff and matted pussy hair. "Mmmm," she murmured aloud. "He does use his monster cock like a demon would," she continued to herself and proceeded to dig her fingers deeper, beyond her wet squishy labia and into her pussy.

Beside her, Robert had actually awakened as her breathing pattern shifted out of sleep mode. He was also content from their evening and night of sex; but he remained alert to the fact that the beautiful body beside him could revert to its prior vicious, cruel, and vengeful mode.

Otherwise, his thoughts mirrored hers – reviewing important events from the last five days. His primary concern focused on complicated events set in motion, but not yet finished. Robert knew his own capabilities and he explicitly trusted his partner, Steve. He was less certain when he was forced to rely on others, particularly strangers. He grinned surreptitiously as he thought about thriving upon complicated, interwoven strategies. He was indeed satisfied for the first time in years that life was worth living.

Ever alert to his surroundings, Robert's unconscious monitoring of his environment during his musings alerted him to the fact that his sex partner had hunched over into a fetal position with both hands digging into her pussy. "She's masturbating," he grinned. His half-stiff morning woodie twitched in anticipation of another round of sex. Robert idly stroked his three-inch-wide shaft and looked at the lovely pattern of stripes on the back beside him in bed. The throbbing dick in his hand twitched and jerked as he thought of his dry cock forcing its way into that virgin ass. As if it knew what Robert's thoughts were, each of Rachael's cheeks started to clench and her hips started to move. "She's fucking herself now," he observed. Robert listened to her breathing hoarsen and grow louder. "Soon," he thought.

Caught up in her own conflicting fantasy world of pain, sexual humiliation, and yearning for freedom, Rachael kept on frigging herself completely unaware of her surroundings.

Robert knelt beside the frantically gyrating ass and smelled her musk invade the room. He kept still, holding both pillows from the bed in his left hand. Deciding that she would cum any second, he moved swiftly. Robert forcefully grabbed her by the hips and flopped her, belly down, onto the small pile of pillows. Before her overloaded brain could realize what was happening, his hard cock was driven balls-deep into her sloppy pussy.

Sexual heat coursed through her body as the nine-inch bludgeon rammed in and out of her sensitized pussy. He was beyond his tenth hammer-like stroke before she could clutch the sheets and begin to move her ass in counter-tempo to his thrusts. It was perfect. "Ohhh," she moaned aloud. "Yesss, yesss, fuck, … fuck, ohhh, … fuck meee."

Robert loved it when a partner lost control and started to babble. It told him that his cock was conquering another woman. The beautiful surgeon beneath him had shut down her talented modern brain; it was responding only with those basic primal instincts devoted to pleasure, procreation, survival, and conception. Despite Robert's self-acknowledged skill at sex, her blurred hip gyrations put his to shame. She was hot! Robert's dick felt like it was plugged into a greedy, grasping, squeezing, wet, hot, fuck machine. Robert sped up his fucking to try and catch the out-of-control creature below him. It was as if his cock maintained the blistering pace in an attempt to escape the unbearable pleasure her cunt was providing.

Soon, both lay gasping and drenched with sweat. "Baby," she gasped, "you are a great fuck. How did you know I needed you at just that moment? Ohhh, it was so good!"

Robert kissed her sweaty brow and responded dryly, "Well, it was hard not to know. When you started to jostle the bedsprings, I woke up. By then, you were huffing and puffing as if you were in a marathon gangbang. As to timing – well, each time we've made love, we orgasmed together without holding back or speeding. We just fuck and know it will work out for each of us.

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

Rachael became aroused again in the shower. For the first time in her life, she voluntarily went down on a man. Robert was busy soaping her tight little breasts from behind (almost in a proprietary manner – at least that's what Rachael was thinking) when his half-hard dick bumped across her ass cheeks. A flash of desire surged through her. "God, girl. You are becoming such a slut," she thought, "I can't seem to get enough cock. My cunny is already raw and battered enough." That's when her brain was horrified with the sexual submission of the act as her lips and hands slid down to his cock and ass cheeks. "I control my men. Why am I doing this?" she wondered with another surge of arousal. As her lips and tongue massaged his dick, her hands were also busy. One hand remained on his ass to caress it and the other seemed transported to her pussy. She climaxed hard twice before Robert grabbed her head and held her to spurt forcefully down her pulsating throat.

Rachael's submissive act surprised Robert. That she had multiple orgasms herself had been obvious by her uncontrolled spasms throughout mouth-fucking his cock. A few pearly drops of cum clung to her lips where his still drooling cock slimed her face as it came out of her mouth. He admired her satiated form huddled on the shower floor. Her wet hair clung to her face from the jets of warm water, making her look childlike and helpless. He forced himself to remember that she was still as deadly as a desert scorpion. He intended to blunt her sting somehow.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 17 – A Double-Cross? (or New Rules, Dr. Kay)

Once again, Doctor Rachael Quaid sat in a first-class seat while her airplane accelerated for a bumpy take-off. She still clung possessively to Robert's arm. "Why can't I let go of him?" she pondered. "Have I really changed that much since he 'took' me so horridly that night? Do I want more?" the troubled woman pondered this, completely ignoring thoughts of her upcoming day.

Aaron Clarke (aka Robert Morgan to Rachael) was thinking about finishing up this mess created by the greedy Doctor Patricia Kay and the complications imposed upon him by his west coast partner, Steve Austin. Steve refused to go along with Aaron's entire proposal. This troubled Robert because of the extreme risk he faced from the finally agreed upon plan.

With these thoughts, both Rachel and Robert drifted off to sleep.

Immigration and Customs checks upon arrival in Fort-de-France, Martinique were perfunctory as usual for a Caribbean island. Thus, soon after touchdown, the two were chatting with Steve Austin's real estate agent as he skillfully wove through the heavy traffic. A small, slight man, with delicate fingers like a piano player, he seemed oddly out of character as a rental agent. Randy Solis explained that he did everything in the property business: rentals, maintenance, purchases, sales, and improvements. His manner was pleasant and friendly, but his intelligent eyes seemed to take in everything.

Rachael thought him a little too intense. But, she was excited because he had found a great prospect and already arranged for a viewing.

"It used to be a weight-loss clinic, … you know, … a fat farm. It went out of business maybe six months ago. The owners in Geneva are going through a complicated bankruptcy and some hint of theft among the partners." He threw this explanation over his rumpled shoulder as he negotiated the winding, bumpy roads just outside the capital.

"I called last night. The court-appointed legal firm tasked to liquidate all the business holdings was ecstatic. They are totally wrapped up in domestic, European-held properties; no time to deal with this place, it's simply too far away from Geneva."

"The legal firm only knows the original purchase price from about four years ago. After extensive modifications, 911 occurred and killed the tourism business at the worst possible time for the partners. I used this as an excuse to devaluate the property, ..." he paused to catch his breath and to pass a slow-moving, horse-drawn cart.

"That's the good news. The bad news is that it is perfect for you doctor. It is a large, isolated estate on its own ridgeline overlooking the Caribbean. It even has a small sheltered cove with beaches and a mooring pier. The ferry used to stop here to pick up clients for day trips to other islands. It's quite nice." Randy drifted off absently as he focused on traffic problems. Numerous potholes, filled with water, spotted the road between a surface strewn with palm fronds and debris. A tropical squall blew through the area with high winds and an inch and a half of water, just hours before their flight arrived.

"Oh," he jerked back to his story and sales pitch. "There are cottages, a dormitory, kitchen and dining facility, lots of treatment rooms, and … a nice large surgery. Yes, the fat-farm here planned to perform some simple cosmetic work. I know Steve expected that you would find a site in town for several hundred thousand dollars. But, this is way better, and … it provides for solitude and security. Both are things you can't get in the crowded, crime-ridden capital."

He pulled off the road in front of a gate and apologized, "This is all electric and remote controlled; but, in the confusion, nobody remembers where the remotes are. The lawyers did arrange for a set of keys to be sent over by an air courier service. It's really a simple matter to reset the access codes and have a new remote programmed.

While he trudged around several mud puddles and kicked some branches off the road, Robert and Rachael surveyed the scene around them. The turn-off was at the crest of a low hill and the clinic entry did face a ridgeline that slowly sloped down to a bluff maybe one-half mile ahead. The land on each side of the road fell off steeply, plunging down several hundred feet to a rocky creek bed. As Randy described, the site was well isolated. No development was anywhere within sight.

Randy finished unlocking the entry and then physically slid the bulky gate to the side. Despite appearances, it moved smoothly and easily on rollers. He paused at his still open door and said, "As you can see, nothing around here is developed. That's because the only beach and water access for miles is right here at this place's cove. A line of steep cliffs extends for miles in either direction from this site. No worries about wandering tourists or locals."

Rachael broke in excitedly, "But, this is gorgeous. As you said, it is perfect. What is the negative about it that you are so hesitant to mention? Are the buildings ruined?"

Randy laughed and replied, "No, even the buildings are immaculate. The facilities are rather larger and more extensive than you need; but, no dear, the problem is simply price. Steve told me about your basic price range, and what you need inside your new clinic – medical equipment, supplies, furniture, communications system, and the like. The fat-farm people got this place at a bargain price four years ago – for $6.2 million."

Rachael gasped and Randy quickly added, "Don't forget, I got 10% knocked down for devaluation. I've already saved you $620 thousand. They will accept $5.58 million. Don't say anymore about price until you see the clinic itself."

Rachael gloomily surveyed the landscaped drive as the car progressed toward the clinic itself, a distant half mile away. You could only see the buildings as you dipped below a final crest along the ridgeline. Rachael fell instantly in love with the site. Obviously, a talented architect had planned everything. The landscape, plantings, and building flowed smoothly together. Inside was even better.

Inside the light and airy clinic entry, Randy continued, "A huge problem here on the islands for professional businesses is that of proper housing for staff personnel. This clinic has it all. Individual and family staff lodges, guest rooms, you name it. I think this place, as is, is worth in the range of $15-20 million. The Geneva people simply have no clue about the capital investment this place has undergone. Even locked up and abandoned for six months, it is fresh and comfortable inside."

Randy kept the surgery for the last stop. "As you can see, this is the crowning glory," he said with a flourish. He was right. "The medical equipment remained in place when they left. Some may not be what you want. Since you were interested in having a clinic here, I took the liberty of paying some local nursing staff to clean up this area. After all, I want you to love it."

Doctor Quaid walked around in wonder and examined some of the larger items of medical apparatus. "It looks ready to use," she stammered, "Robert, it is perfect."

"Whoa, girl," Robert laughed at Rachael's eagerness. "Randy," he said turning to the real estate agent who was busy playing with some instruments on a nearby counter, "can you give us a few minutes?"

Randy turned and smoothly said, "Sure, I'll meet you in the kitchen. I've got fresh groceries there for our lunch. Take as much time as you need. See you in an hour or whenever you're ready."

Rachael excitedly turned to Robert and said, "I want it. It is perfect." She then cuddled up next to him as if he was her sugar daddy and said, "Can't you get Steve to put a little more into the pot?"

Robert stiffened and pulled her away by the shoulders. "Don't get greedy, girl. Steve and I are already eating a lot of cash to get you safely settled here. All to keep your cute little ass out of a Brazilian whorehouse, or left underground in a coffin – still alive. Not many legitimate businessmen would hesitate to sell your tight little ass into slavery to keep over $13 million."

Rachael flinched and regretted her act. "Robert," she said, "I am so sorry. You are right. It was not greed though, I am getting a little too dependant upon you and fell into the 'daddy please help me' trap. Please, it was not the same old greedy Patricia."

Robert relaxed and said, "OK, just keep in mind that he said $$5.58 million. You only have $4.82 million in cash. Everything else you own is still tied up until your estate is sold off."

She giggled and said, "Yes, and that is another $13.175 million. Plenty, considering what I am getting for the price, and how small my start-up expenses will be to open up the new clinic. Maybe we can work out a deal," she purred as she grabbed his ass and did a bump-and-grind against his crotch.

"OK, Rachael focus," he said sternly. "You will have $12.13 million soon in your account. No bank will accept the pending deposits from your estates as collateral because I own them and there can't ever be a direct link from me to your new identity. The rate of transfer into your accounts will depend on how things sell. Remember our deal. We kindly let you keep your assets, even throwing in $200 thousand as good faith money. For that, you owe us $2 million in free work. However, you are about $$760 thousand short of cash to close on this place. Should I loan it to you as a short-term note to get you going?" he stopped talking and paused for her to speak. Rachael of course knew nothing of the over $1.6 million in cash he had stolen from her ex-lawyer's firm or of the drug lord's funds. For the first time in his life, Aaron/Robert had cash reserves for any kind of discretionary purchase. He could easily loan Rachael the money.

Rachael looked up at him excitedly and waited.

"You slipped up and admitted that you were becoming dependant on me," he leered at her with a grin. "You also mentioned the daddy thing."

She squealed and bounced up and down and said, "Oh, yes Daddy!"

Robert watched her tight mounds. "They don't even jiggle when she jumps," he observed. He then brought her into his arms and kissed her forehead. "If you willingly offer me that luscious ass of yours to seal the deal, then I will loan you the money, today."

She said yes before she realized what he meant. "But, you hurt me so that night," she pouted, "and your cock is sooo big," she tried to bargain him down to straight sex.

Robert laughed and hugged her. "You know that's over. Besides, I promise you that this will be great; and you will never forget this million dollar fuck." Without waiting for a reply, his hands sought out her tight ass and he pulled her cunt mount against his already thickening cock. Robert kissed her deeply for a few minutes. "Girl, lets do this my way," he said, his voice husky with lust. "Just do as you are told."

Robert kissed her again to cut off any final protests and he reached behind her for a piece of surgical tubing. While Rachael was distracted with inspecting the surgery, the real estate agent had been rummaging some odds and ends on the counter. Robert drew it behind her and started to capture her hand. "Hmmm," she gurgled a little in protest against his tongue.

He finished the tie. Holding her bound wrists with one hand, he turned her around and moved her hips to an examining table. Her now helpless form bent over the mattress sideways, leaving her toes just short of touching the tiled floor. Rachael's head hung unsupported on the other side. Three sections of nylon line were already tied to the frame and dangling ready for his use. Quickly, he knelt and secured one of the lines loosely around her neck, finishing the move with a deep and lingering kiss. He calmed her by massaging her back and shoulders while warming her up with the kiss. Then, he picked up a roll of surgical gauze and started a wrap around her head; first blurring her vision, then blocking it completely as enough wraps encased her head.

"Shhh," he whispered, "this will be wonderful. He left a ballgag, previously hidden under the gauze wrap, beside her now-blind head. "Time enough for that latter," he grinned in anticipation.

Rachael's heart beat quickly; partially in lust for the wonderful things Robert could do to her trembling body, and partly out of fear that he would cause her body pain again. The confusion in her brain never allowed her to wonder either how a ballgag ended up in her surgery; or, why she let herself become tied up and helpless in an obviously ready to use surgery. Instead, her cunt throbbed and convulsed in anticipation of the promised orgasms.

Knowing that time was an important factor in keeping Rachael's lust-shrouded judgment focused on the sexuality of the situation, Robert ran around the table and as sensuously as possible slipped off her sandals. He left her long flowing tropical dress draped over her ass as his hands continued up. A bottle of scented body lotion on the floor helped make his caressing hands move soothingly, especially as the blossom scent reached Rachael's nose. His hands slipped under her skimpy black panties to squeeze and pull at her fleshy mounds.

She was helpless in this position. The too soft padded bra cups isolated her aching boobs from any real stimulation. Her shoulders wriggled to get some more stimulation to her ignored breasts.

Robert noticed her movements and laughingly said, "Does my little Kitty need some extra stimulation? Hold still," with this admonishment, he drew her shoulder straps down off her shoulders to her elbows. Since it was a front-clasp bra, his hands caressed her bare sides and lifted her chest enough to unclasp the front and free her hard little titties. Robert paused long enough to maul them to give her the stimulation she craved. Then, her chest was plunked down on the scratchy cotton, further teasing her aching nipples.

Robert pulled her dress up over her waist, now exposing her thin black panties. Her light red pubic hair was plainly visible through the translucent material. Robert unceremoniously pulled them down her legs and off her dangling feet. He then poured more of the lotion onto his hands and refocused his attention onto her full ass cheeks and lower back. Rachael moaned in pleasure from the stimulation of his hands. She wriggled her butt to get some more attention. Robert ignored her and kept massaging the lotion into her ass cheeks for a few more minutes.

Finally, Rachael said, "Robert, rub my pussy please. I need it so bad."

Robert was pleased to note her soft begging tone. He was tying to cure the woman of demanding anything from him. "Good little Kitty," he crooned. "For the right attitude, you get a little reward." With that, he pulled her cheeks apart and plunged his tongue deep into her clasping pussy. He felt her immediate orgasm as her silent body quivered throughout. "Kitty, I never got a chance to find your little clitty," he teased as his teeth pulled and nipped her labia, further opening up her drooling cavern. Robert smeared his right hand from a tube of sex lube and kept sucking on her overheated pussy. Packing three fingers together, he set them at her puckered asshole and gently started to wriggle them about. He was careful to let only the tip of the middle of the three fingers actually enter her tight hole. Plenty of tongue and lip action kept Rachael focused on her greedy pussy as his fingers kept relaxing and loosening the grommet. He reapplied a thick gob of lube onto his three fingers and returned them to her now relaxed ass. Each of the three fingers gently entered her tight ass chute and paused after the end joints were just inside her grommet ring. Robert started to gently whirl his wrist about to further loosen her up.

Rachael felt his wondrous tongue, lips, and teeth teasing her further. After her first orgasm, she limply collapsed and sweat started pouring off her body. She felt herself unconsciously moaning and whimpering aloud as he continued to stimulate her fired-up pussy. "Oh, his hands feel so good," she thought to herself, completely giving in to the flood of sensation. "Ahhh," she groaned in ecstasy as the sensations from her ass finally hit her brain. "Yes, Robert, yes," she hissed, barely in control. "Oh, oh, fuck me please." Rachael tried in vain to wiggle her hips back upon his thrusting tongue and teasing fingers.

Robert felt the hips start wriggling again as Rachael tried to fuck back against his face and fingers. He grinned into her sloppy pussy as he readied his fingers for a real plunge into her ass. He knew that a little pain would set off her overloaded sensory system. The gentle fingers wormed in deep. He bottomed out about four inches in when the web of his hand by the little finger struck her stretched grommet. Robert kept gently rotating the hand while he grabbed a breath of fresh air. His left hand also picked up a syringe lying under a towel by his feet. He pulled his three fingers out and lubed his hand up again. This time, he wormed in all four fingers, tightly curled into a cylinder. Rachael's overloaded brain never felt the syringe inject its contents, a load of Demerol, into her meaty ass cheek. Robert had about ten minutes before it fully kicked in. Robert quickly slipped on a condom and thrust deeply into her bowels with one motion.

Rachael actually howled, mostly in intense, almost unbearable pleasure. As Robert expected, the painful ass fuck just triggered her uncontrollable orgasms. Her eager ass tightly grasped his cock. Robert's slimy right hand worked its way into her sloppy pussy, all the way past his knuckles. Rachael was shrieking out of control. Her unbound legs kicking as best they could to try and fuck back at the two monsters in her rear holes. Finally, it was too much, Robert's cock spasmed and spewed into the condom. Rachael continued to convulse in orgasm after orgasm. Robert stepped back to pull off the slimy condom and fix his trousers. Her nicely formed ass looked totally fucked out. It was shiny from all the lotion and sex lube.

Rachael was still completely oblivious of her surroundings. The Demerol was kicking in on top of the fatigue she felt from the post-adrenaline rush.

Randy Solis stepped into the operating room with a scruffy looking local. Robert obviously expected them and walked around to Rachael's head. He pulled her hair aside and thrust in the waiting ballgag. With a motion to the two men, he went over to a sink to wash up.

The scruffy man started laying out tattoo tools and ink. He appreciatively rubbed a hand across one lush and perfect ass cheek. With a questioning look toward Robert, he paused. Robert nodded. The man set to work; the tattooing would follow his own release. Robert and Randy left the craftsman to warm up in peace. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh followed them through the swinging doors of the operating room. Robert and Randy Solis (actually known as the L.A. Surgeon, or Eugene T. Falk, MD) had some final decisions to go over concerning Doctor Patricia Kay's final surgery. Rachael didn't realize that the final act of her conversion to Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid was just beginning. Aaron Clarke (aka Robert Morgan) had been able to convince Steve Austin that they needed a little insurance. The idea was to protect their significant investment in the doctor.

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

Back in the surgery, Rachael was undergoing a rapid cunt, ass, cunt, ass fuck. The tattoo artist was a talented switch fucker. Still unaware that something had gone wrong, she blissfully grunted and gurgled into the gag. Near constant orgasms washed through her increasingly remote body. Her brain was having an increasingly hard time concentrating on anything.

Rachael's nearly comatose form was flipped over on the mattress; her body still crosswise though. The tattooist tightly secured the poor doctor's arms and legs to the bed frame and picked up a razor. Her pubic hair would have to go, at least above the swollen cunt lips. He picked up his tattoo set and started to work. An hour or so later, he took a break by sliding his swollen cock into her cunt and rocking away. He scrubbed the lady's right nipple with an alcohol swab and prepared to pierce it. "God, I love my job," groaned the man as he fucked the gorgeous girl beneath him. The piercing gun clicked.

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

Doctor Rachael Quaid struggled to focus her thoughts. Her throat hurt and her head spun fiercely. She couldn't remember how she got, … "Where am I," she croaked. Her eyes fought to focus. A friendly black face swept into her view.

"Hi, dearie. You are finally awake. Good," the woman in a white starched nurse's uniform spoke cheerfully. She stuck her hands on her ample hips and said, "Welcome back to another glorious day in Martinique. I am your new surgical nurse, pending your final approval, of course." With that, the beaming woman wiped Rachael's brow and busied herself fixing the covers over her body.

Rachael, was still confused. She remembered looking at a clinic site with Robert. "What happened? Why am I here with you, nurse?" Rachael croaked.

The nurse carefully fed Rachael an ice chip and chattered on. "Why, dearie," that nice Mr. Robert and that doctor-man, they hired me to help you recover and get set up here in business. They awfully nice fellers." With that, she dutifully took Rachael's blood pressure and stuck a thermometer into her incredulous mouth. Afterwards, the nurse stuck a syringe into Rachael's IV bag before she could protest.

Rachael could feel the aches and pains throughout her body fading instantly as the sedative in her IV took effect as quickly as her heart could circulate the medicine. The nurse slowly drifted away and Rachael sunk into a deep and peaceful sleep.

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

Finally, fully awake and aware, two days after her surgery, Rachael sat up in bed and read a long note from Robert:

Dear Rachael,

I so wished to be there for you when you awoke. You are finally reborn as Dr. Rachael Patricia Quaid. Steve and I truly wish for your continued success, happiness, and wealth. We have not reneged on any part of our mutual agreements. Do not feel betrayed.

However, I have to admit that I was the one to worry that you would betray us once again. The restrictions you will face on your life – a parole if you will for the next two years – are entirely my doing. Steve was content to let you free in Martinique. Credit me for knowing that while you have changed for the best, you need a little help to keep from backsliding.

I have treasured our time together. You are a wonderful sexual creature. Some of our gifts will enhance that pleasure for you and your future partners (and Rachael, I hope to hold a special place in your heart). Your new breasts were a gift from both Steve and I. We love your trim, beautiful body. Your full C cups are for your lovers' enjoyment. I hope each time they sway and move because of their heft and size, that you will think of my shaft sinking deep into your being and that the jiggle is from our mutual thrusts. I know you love the sensitivity of your breasts.

You have one pieced breast and a pierced clitoral hood, each with a small golden hoop and short dangling golden chain. They are your gift to me. I think of you as willingly chaining yourself, for my full and unequivocal use. You are a wonderful submissive. It sets you free. They tie your heart tied to me.

The small tattoo above your cunt is mine. You are mine. The tiny tattoo of 'Roberts Slut Toy – Kitty' will be both your symbol of freedom and slavery. You are much freer than you realize, Rachael dear.

Now we have one remaining, not so pleasant item. I fear that without practice and discipline, you will wander off the island on a whim and the authorities will capture you. Rachael, you can become strong and I will help you. Remember my comment about parole. Well, unless Steve or I agree, you can't leave the clinic site for any reason within the next two years. You remember the dog-training collar. Well, that and the soreness above your ovaries are somewhat related. Our doctor surgically implanted a programmable trainer deep inside you. The digitally controlled unit can stun you, incapacitate you, or kill you. You are free to roam your property (Yes, the land and clinic are yours; fully paid for, as we agreed). A GPS transponder constantly signals your location to us.

If you leave your land, you will receive the first of an increasingly dangerous series of shocks; ultimately leading to your death, if you ignore the warnings. Feel free to determine the bounds of your restriction.

Another thing, the unit must be charged; else, it will also begin to shock you as it senses a diminished power level. The computer chip is smart and can't be fooled. Unless removed by an expert, surgical means of neutralization will kill you. A last twist. The charger works on an induction coil welded to a closed box under your bed frame. Unless you lie above it every night, the power unit will trigger the shock sequence.

The nurse was a real find. She has the job for two months; after that, you decide whether to keep her on.

Best of luck! I hope you give me a warm and generous welcome when next we meet.

--- Robert Morgan --- Like my namesake, the pirate; I have a strong sense of honor and love. At least as much as can be expected from a murderous scoundrel.

One of Rachael's hands held the letter while the other roamed across each part of her body discussed. The chain and ring inserted into her nipple and pussy would tug gently at her all day. With her taut tits and deeply padded bras, Rachael had never been so aware of her breasts. She came twice while reading the letter the first time. Over the next few months, Rachael read it often before drifting off to sleep, deeply satisfied from her orgasms.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 18 – She's Not a Seamstress (or An Occupational Change)

Aaron was decidedly proud of Puppy's achievements while left alone with the four slaves. Puppy was busy with Sandy and Ingrid's morning routine while Aaron reviewed Puppy's paperwork.

Katria and Wanda had been groggy from their breast augmentation surgery late on Sunday afternoon when Aaron (as Robert Morgan) left for his two-day Caribbean trip. The two patients needed convalescent care while Aaron was gone. Puppy decided on her own to place each girl together in a king-size bed in Bedroom 4A. The girls were unbound except for a strong, flexible ankle chain she ran from each right ankle to a steel shackle mounted at the foot of the bed. The naked companions could cuddle and comfort each other over the next two days while recovering. Puppy brought drinks, snacks, and medicines for the two as necessary. The bedroom had a functional toilet and bath / shower unit, minimizing the sanitation requirements. Puppy typed in her update to Aaron that, "Master, I felt the girls would remain oriented on their mutual goals if the 'scare factor' was removed during convalescence. If locked up separately, I think they would have lost progress. As it is, they will bond all the quicker."

"Puppy was right," Aaron mused as he read through Puppy's reports. It was late on Tuesday night and he was exhausted from the whirlwind week. Doctor Patricia Kay was finally gone forever and Doctor Rachael Patricia Quaid was resettled in the Caribbean with her claws removed. She ended up being the first customer for the miniaturized training system that replaced the bulky dog-training collars. The gorgeous doctor co-designed the new unit with an electronic genius that worked part-time for the organization; it was a poetic inaugural use of the device.

Aaron decided that he would surprise Puppy with a treat and started over to the high-security cages farthest from his office. Any possessions of his acquisitions that he had not destroyed were carefully stored there. He started to go through the nicest clothes he took from Doctor Kay, Ingrid, and Katria. Doctor Kay and Katria each wore dresses tailored for a C cup. All three women had owned expensive clothing; daily work attire, evening clothes, cocktail dresses, and formal gowns. It was a treasure trove of wonderful items, still in fashion. Unfortunately, none of them really fit Puppy given that she had E+ breasts. A sex goddess in silhouette, but no off-the-rack clothes would fit her. Aaron had detailed measurements already for Puppy's body and he decided to get them altered as a surprise.

Aaron sat down at his computer and tried to find the best match for a high-end dress shop that carried most of the designer labels on his stolen dresses. He found a boutique dress shop not too far across town in southern Miami. The boutique owner was prominently shown on the webpage ad as Belinda Maticevski. A small photo depicted a slim and rather haughty looking blonde in her mid forties. Aaron took a dozen of the best dresses and took off for the shop.

Aaron, in his Robert Morgan persona, entered the small dress shop and glanced around. It was decorated rather like a entertainment salon room in a mansion. Comfortable chairs were arranged in a nice sitting area alone one side of the shop and a very few clothing items were tastefully displayed along the opposite wall. Aaron thought that the clothes were probably stored on racks in the back of the shop. "Guess they talk about clothing needs and Belinda brings out items for consideration," he thought as he waited to get some attention and service.

Belinda and a young helper were fawning over an older woman with a frumpy body. They were trying to get the woman to purchase a gown obviously made for a woman with a younger, slimmer build. It looked hideous on the woman. Robert was not impressed with the greedy salesmanship. The dresses Robert was holding started to weigh down on his arm. He looked calm and self-possessed, but he was becoming agitated.

Finally, when the older woman disappeared into a changing room, the shop owner came over to see what Robert wanted. They exchanged a few words of pleasantry and Aaron explained what he wanted to do, explaining that it was a surprise and that he was looking for first-class tailoring because of his friend's rather large bust size. Belinda's face started to become colder and more distant with each word Robert spoke. When he mentioned the full E cup he needed to have the dresses fit, she exploded with cool distain, "Really, you must realize it is beneath my shop to become involved in your tawdry problems. Just because you want to alter some second-hand gowns to fit your busty tart doesn't mean I will help you. After all, I'm not some common seamstress. My assistant, Barbara, is too busy to help you either."

The lady in question, a very young-looking blonde, looked askance at Robert as she heard her bosses comment, flipped her long hair, and haughtily walked away. If Robert wasn't so seething inside, he would have noticed how tight her butt was under the fashionable clothing. The trim young assistant's twin cheeks undulated with a snappy movement under the silk.

Robert was taken aback. He calmly explained that he held over a $100 thousand worth of dresses on his arm, many from among the same labels she carried. "Madame, I picked your establishment because of the quality work you do and the fine line of clothing you represent."

None of his explanation made the slightest difference to Belinda Maticevski. She had already decided that he was riffraff and wanted nothing to do with him, his clothing, or his slut. "That bitch actually called Puppy my slut," Robert later mused as he sat fuming in his car from the blistering treatment he received. Just before he stormed out, Belinda picked up the phone and threatened to phone the police if he didn't leave within an instant.

Aaron went back to the warehouse to make lunch and sit down with Puppy. With Katria and Wanda still on recuperative rest status, Puppy had only the newest two sluts, Sandy and Ingrid to train. Puppy had enough free time that Wednesday afternoon to spend some time with her Master, Aaron.

Puppy let him know that she was delighted with the training concept Aaron proposed for Sandy and Ingrid. Aaron's idea was especially wicked given that Sandy thought herself a switch-hitting dominate/submissive and an AC/DC sexual partner. During their introductory session, Aaron made it very clear that Sandy was to become a 100 percent submissive bondage slut subservient to Ingrid. Sandy would remain in near complete bondage all day and Ingrid was to train the slut. Puppy would in turn only have to train Ingrid. As Ingrid maintained a special dislike for the full-figured blonde that took such glee in humiliating her, Sandy was in for a rough time. Unknown to both slaves, the end game plan called for a final switch in status for each. Ingrid would become a permanent sex slave herself and submissive to the naturally dominate Sandy. Ingrid's situation would take a drastic turn for the worse as a full-time bondage slut. Depending upon how long it took to find the right owners for the two, Puppy and Aaron might let the deviant Sandy train another slut or two. It all depended upon the quality stock harvested and the potential end-use for them.

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

Aaron and Puppy moved to an unused bedroom in the B Row training area and spent their post-lunch break cuddling and kissing. While Aaron was fondling Puppy's huge breasts, he heard Sandy give a particularly pronounced scream as Ingrid did something to hurt her. Something clicked. He had a delightful, wicked idea. It came from the association of Sandy (a potential trainer of sluts) and Puppy's huge breasts (a severe challenge for finding attire that fit) that gave him the idea. It would change Belinda Maticevski's life forever, and for the worse. Aaron left a slightly quizzical Puppy and took off to his office for some fast internet searches. After all, he didn't want to ruin her surprise.

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

At dusk, Aaron Clarke left his warehouse in predator mode. Once again as Robert Morgan, he dressed in dark clothing and brought two duffle bags. The remainder of his van was empty, leaving plenty of room for cargo. He first drove toward Belinda's shop and parked to do some final reconnaissance of the area. The fashionable shopping district had somewhat of a problem after dark; it became far more foreboding than during the day and no clients would linger in this area after sunset. Robert found her Jaguar in the parking garage and parked beside it on the driver's side. He put on his vest, checked his gear, and waited. Around seven, Belinda and her young assistant entered the parking garage. Robert had already determined that there were no security systems anywhere on the premises. There was no guard or pay booth as only monthly parkers with passes could use the facility. Robert took care of getting into the garage in his characteristic manner; he broke one of the two card readers, hung an out of order sign on it, and drove into the garage.

Belinda approached her car and remotely unlocked it. The chirp from the vehicle unlocking was Robert's warning to get ready. He checked his holsters and pockets that were holding his taser, stun gun, and 9-mm. Everything was ready. As Belinda's hand touched her door handle, and her attention focused on entering her automobile, Robert struck. He quickly rabbit punched the haughty woman solidly in her kidneys. Before she even hit the dirty concrete, the assistant was thrown backward by her own spasming muscles from the twin taser darts buried in her taut stomach. As Belinda continued to her slide down to the pavement, he spun the cunt around and bitch-slapped her, twice. She could only stare stupidly at him as she lost all muscle control. In her fear, she voided her bowels and peed on herself.

Within moments, she was laid out on her back in the van, spread-eagled and helpless. Robert's favorite, a bright red ballgag adorned her mouth and extremely heavy-duty chains bound her limbs out painfully. The chains were really just a dramatic touch that would foster extra fear in the woman. Belinda was not street-wise, was never spoken back to, and always got her way. Robert was going to change that, quickly; Belinda reminded him of a worse version of his soon-to-be ex-wife, Veronica. The assistant, an unexpected bonus, was simply trussed up, gagged, and thrown forward of the helpless Belinda.

Robert grabbed a carpet knife from a small toolbox secured behind the passenger seat. He grabbed the woman's blouse collar, lifted up strongly, and in one long cut, sliced through all her clothing all the way down to her pubic bone. One more set of cuts from the collar down each sleeve, and the woman was totally naked, lying in a cushion of tattered clothing. Robert opened up the vehicles first aid kit, rummaged through it for a minute, and pulled out several ammonia capsules. He broke on under her nose and held it in place till she regained consciousness and her eyes started to water. Robert matched her stare, eye-to-eye, and deliberately bitch slapped her again; once, a pause, and then a second hard blow.

Belinda was scared beyond anything she ever imagined in her life. This huge maniac actually beat her. Her kidneys ached with each breath she took. "I'll see him in the gas chamber for this," she vowed. Then he struck her face twice more. "He slapped me four times now, the bastard." She couldn't help it; she burst into sobs and wept uncontrollably. Her vision blurred and she had trouble focusing on the evil man. A cold wet cloth wiped across her eyes and nose. She calmed down enough to see again.

Robert looked her in the eyes again and said, "You were a real first-class bitch. However, no more. If you follow directions, then you will hurt a lot less. Give me problems and you will feel pain." With that he grabbed each of her nipples between a calloused thumb and forefinger, twisted, and squeezed as hard as he could. Robert watched with some satisfaction as her face contorted in pain, unintelligible gurgles tried to break through the tight gag, and her chest rose up as far as she could thrust it in an attempt to relieve the stabbing pain. He held on to her tortured nipples and lifted up, further contorting her abused breasts.

Robert then reached into a vest pocket and withdrew his evil looking stun gun. He leaned forward to just inches away from her face and fired the gun. A blaze of electric fire jumped between the gun's electrodes and crackled wickedly. Robert moved the gun away and said, "This gun is next if you give me any problems." He paused to drive the sharp electrodes deep into the side of one of her tits and continued, "Guess where the next one goes? Will you cooperate?"

Belinda was gagged and speechless. She already ached in more pure throbbing pain than she had ever faced in her life. She wanted no more mistreatment. Belinda shook her head up and down; she would cooperate.

The man yanked the gag out of her mouth with a plopping noise. Her jaws were already stiff and sore from the few minutes that the hugely oversized thing had been in her mouth. She felt the damp cloth wipe her face again. The man continued, "I have some detailed questions and you better answer honestly." Belinda nodded, too afraid to speak yet.

As usual, Aaron Clarke / Robert Morgan was well prepared in the questions he asked. He started with queries that led the woman to believe he was just a common burglar. The idea was to thoroughly cow the bitch, leaving her hope for release back to normal life. He even prompted her about the insurance coverage on the dress shop. Belinda answered all his first round of questions pertaining to the layout of her business, what type tailoring equipment she had, her own background in the fashion industry, her alarm codes, etc.

As a final ploy to ensure that she told the truth, he jammed the stun gun between her breasts and brutally tied 5-mm bondage cord around it, her breasts, and her torso. With a somewhat theatrical move, he pretended to plug a phone line between an oversized battery operated digital clock and the stun gun. He started the timer on the clock and spoke, "Here it is bitch, your moment of truth. I'm going to do a fast recon of your office. If I run into problems and can't get here in fifteen minutes, the timer will fire that stun gun into your breast every three minutes till I return. The electrical charge will cook a hole right into you." He paused to let it all sink into the befuddled brain of the woman.

"Anything you forgot to tell me or want to add?" he asked dryly.

She did. "Yes, the alarm codes," she panted in dismay. "I wasn't thinking straight and I gave them to you backward. The code is my birth date only backward; April 1959 becomes 95914, not the way I gave it to you as 41959. Please I was so afraid," she whined and cringed

Robert reset the clock again and said, "Last time, here I go. See you in fifteen." He looked her in the eye to be sure that was it. At her nod, he jammed the ballgag back in and locked her in the van. She couldn't make the slightest sound or movement.

Robert really didn't want much from the woman's shop. He did grab the most outrageously expensive outfits that she had in the store and stuffed a duffle bag with an expensive sewing machine and lots of odds and ends that a newly hired seamstress might be able to use. Nothing else was worth his interest. He left the lights on and the door unlocked as he simply walked away, an arm loaded with dresses and a heavy oversized duffle bag clutched in his other hand. Belinda Maticevski's dress shop was no longer in business. "Guess she decided to start anew, and work her way up from the bottom of her new career field," Robert grinned at his joke as he threw her things into the van.

At the warehouse, Aaron looked down on the helpless woman. She was trim and in very good shape, considering her age, forty-six. Her breasts were small and nowhere near as firm as those of his sluts or sex companion slaves were. On her 125-pound frame, the B cups were a nice size. He judged her completely fuckable, but not his idea of a keeper. Her new position in the company would not be a waste of expensive merchandise. That was the idea after all; Belinda would soon learn a new meaning to the word humiliation. Aaron decided that he had no time for the two new cunts and left them in the van after removing the gags and the stun gun from Belinda's breasts. He did place blindfolds on them and left.

Aaron took off some of his covert operations gear and donned another shirt. He walked out of the warehouse and sprinted across the industrial complex to a bus stop, but not the nearest by any means. The roundabout route he took got him back to the general area of Belinda's shop. He looked down the street from a nearby corner and saw no activity by the shop. Nothing amiss had been noted or reported. He turned away and proceeded back into the parking garage, stopping first to raise the exit arm on the broken card reader.

Belinda's Jaguar was a dream to drive. "Hmmm, the slut had good taste in automobiles at least," he thought to himself as he shifted into third gear. "Have to be careful driving this; it's too easy to speed in." Aaron pulled over onto a side street and busied himself for a few minutes putting down the top and admiring his new vehicle. It was a 2002 Jaguar XKR 450 Grand Prix Convertible. The car was in immaculate shape and was black, actually the manufacturer called the paint finish anthracite with ivory classic trim.

Aaron pulled into the warehouse and lowered the bay doors behind him. Then he turned on the warehouse lights. It was dangerous, but while driving he decided to change his plans with Belinda a little for the night. After all, she did remind him of that other bitch Veronica.

The Jaguar glided out through the open warehouse doors again from the dark warehouse and into the night. The top was now back up, generating quite a bit of privacy given the heavy tint on the windows. Aaron turned on the car headlights and glanced beside him. Belinda was a sight to behold. She now sported the nearly totally naked, bondage slut look. Aaron had tightly fitted a garish wig with long red hair atop her head. He then carefully braided the long red hair into a ponytail and slid a black leather bondage hood over her head, allowing the ponytail to emerge through an opening in the back of the hood. The zippered mouth slot hid a ringgag with and additional inflatable bladder gag, fully pumped up and painfully expanding her jaws. She was effectively silenced. Belinda's terror-stricken eyes looked through the small eye openings. Aaron had told her nothing about his plans.

Belinda also wore a thin black slave collar with a five-foot linked chain dog lead already clipped to it. Bright blue 5-mm line wrapped her breasts in a classic figure-eight tie. Her already black and blue breasts bulged obscenely; the painful tits decorated with a pair of gaudy three-inch hoop earrings inserted into her newly pierced nipples. Belinda also wore a heavy leather bondage belt padlocked around her waist. Her wrists were locked to the belt at the small of her back and her elbows locked to her sides. Belinda wore nothing below her belly button except for a pair of black 'fuck me' high heels. After dressing the woman, Aaron quickly shaved her pubic area and cunt bald.

Aaron actually had redressed back to the same outfit that he used when kidnapping Belinda; black boots, heavy-duty black brushed cotton utility trousers with pockets, a loose-fitting black long-sleeved shirt, and black kid leather gloves. He reached his destination in another warehouse district and pulled up to the covered valet parking stand.

Aaron Clarke had never been here before. Steve Austin, Aaron's west coast partner, recommended the club and provided the correct membership information to get Aaron in for the night as Robert Morgan. A valet attendant opened each door of the Jaguar. Aaron walked leisurely around the hood and took the dog lead offered by the alert attendant. "She's still a little frisky, isn't she? Aaron conversationally asked the attendant who just nodded matter of factly. "Come in and see her on your break if you want. I'll leave her in the free-play area for anyone to enjoy." With that said, Aaron walked into the club leading the unwilling girl on a short, tight lease.

The bouncers checked Aaron's identification, as Robert Morgan, with names on their guest list and let him in. They pointedly ignored the bondage slut he dragged in behind him. Robert wandered aimlessly for a few minutes to become familiar with the layout. The crowd was mixed, male and female, sub and dom. Belinda was among the kinkiest looking with her being totally naked. He saw an unoccupied play area and opened the velvet rope divider to precede his newest cunt into the enclosure. Robert closed the entry and glanced around the space. The play area was about ten feet by fifteen and surrounded by a single velvet rope strung through loops atop three-foot poles. This space had several lines hanging from pulleys on the ceiling, steel loops bolted into the floor, and a display horse (a padded barrel shaped device on four legs for securing a slave across it for spanking, whipping, or just sex). A small black lacquer stand held a limited number of whips, crops, clean dildos, and an open bowl full of condoms. A few pieces of heavier apparatus were located in a distant corner.

Robert pulled a dog's choke collar out of a pouch in his pants leg and lowered it over Belinda's head. He yanked it taut and clipped it to a rope dangling from the ceiling. Robert pulled on the line until Belinda was helplessly staggering below it on only her tiptoes. He unclipped her dog lead from his collar and slipped that into his pouch. The blue bondage cord was unwrapped from her torso, freeing her bruised breasts. He stood behind her and roughly mauled her sensitive titties to help get the blood flowing and to cause her additional pain.

While Belinda stood there, certain she was in hell and that she would choke against the damnable dog choke chain, Robert manhandled the display horse to the center of the room. He decided to attach each of Belinda's wrists to different sides of the horse. This would force her to lean forward, titties hanging down. After she was in this position, Robert pulled the choke chain and moved Belinda forward till her head hung just over the horse. He secured the chain tight to a floor bolt and then forcefully spread her legs into a painful, wide-open position using a steel spreader bar. The last touch was removal of the inflatable gag, leaving drool dangling from the ringgag stuck behind her teeth.

Robert then moved to the only chair within the enclosure and sat down to view his slut. A cute cocktail waitress wearing only a leather miniskirt and heels slipped under the rope and asked about a drink order. Robert ordered two Pacificos and spoke briefly about purchasing a souvenir item. Belinda couldn't quite follow the conversation.

While waiting for the drinks, Robert picked up a marker and filled in the placard with:

Free Play Authorized: No Permanent Marks

This slut has been disobedient and needs correction

Use her freely; condoms only

Her name is Cunt

Just moments later, a small furtive looking man entered the area and silently set up a tripod and a video camera. Once everything was to his satisfaction, he approached Robert who handed him several Benjamin Franklins.

The cute topless waitress returned and knelt down beside Robert to set his beers on a small table. Robert gave her a fifty and directed that she could keep the change if she did him a favor. She nodded, eager to keep the highest possible tip. The request didn't faze the girl at all; she simply picked up the newly opened bottle of Mexican beer and walked over to Belinda. The waitress got Belinda's attention, took a sip of the beer, licking the rim in obvious enjoyment and then walked around to her rear. Belinda's chin launched up, nearly choking her, as the waitress plunged the cold long-neck bottle deep up into her unprepared cunt. The waitress pushed, twisted, and tortured the poor woman with the bottle until it slipped in past the neck to the larger body. Then, she quickly yanked it out and brought it to Robert. He sniffed it like a fine wine, touched the bottle with his tongue, and took a long drink. Yes, he thought, revenge was sweet.

He then hung the up the sign, opened the rope entry, and sat down to watch the fun. Belinda's wide-open eyes looked directly at his seated form. Inwardly she was apologizing and begging for mercy. Outwardly, her drooling mouth, exposed tits, and back thrust ass were an invitation for rape and abuse. Trapped as the featured toy in a free-play scene at a bondage and discipline club, Belinda was in trouble. She was not alone for long. She was going to get quite an education.

The small crowd that gathered stood politely at the ropes and waited for a development. Finally, a huge shirtless black man wearing an executioner's mask and black leather pants strode confidently into the ring. He turned and shut the rope behind himself. The message was clear, it was his turn first, and everyone else should just stand back and watch. The unknown man nodded with respect to Robert and then walked over to the secured slut. His gigantic hands slid down the broad expanse of her exposed back and down around her ass. He lingered there, caressing and squeezing her ass to get a measure of the woman presented for his use.

She saw the black man approach and then felt large calloused hands slide down her back and momentarily cup her bare ass cheeks. She twisted as best she could to evade his touch. Instantly her ass stung from a vicious blow. "Ughhh," she howled. "Ohppp hatt!" she complained.

Robert spoke to the unidentified dom and said, "The slut is new to this. She volunteered to come tonight without understanding the ramifications. I warned her, that once in the club it's too late to back out. She begged and insisted she come with me and swore that she would not embarrass herself. I bear no responsibility for her pain, nor am I responsible for her lack of training. Do as you wish."

The man nodded with satisfaction at the explanation. He had considered leaving the ring as the slut was obviously unschooled and he felt that maybe her Master was an untested wimp. Robert's statement let him know the actual circumstances and convinced him to stay and correct the bound girl. He turned to pick up a short crop when Robert spoke again.

"By the way, she hates blacks and Hispanics." He spoke easily and in a non-confrontational manner. "She thinks they are beneath her. Maybe that's another reason for her crappy response to you. No offense, but do you think we should limit the doms using her tonight to only men and women of color?"

Belinda had listened with horror as her kidnapper spoke of her in such horrid terms. When she realized that he was setting her up for a racially motivated beating and rape, she started to protest, "Hmfff, ohhh, ohhh, hoppp hit!"

The Master heard Robert and the cunt. He nodded again and dropped the crop onto the table. Instead, he turned to a short, multi-thronged whip. Silently he walked around to end where the redhead's face was. He grabbed her chin and forced the whip handle across her open, drooling maw. He then said, "You named yourself a bondage slut by coming here in this costume. The poor attitude you show challenges every Master and Mistress in the club to correct it. You may never return for all I care; but tonight inside this place, you are a bondage slut, and bondage slut you will act or face the consequences. This is no game to me, bitch." With that, he pulled her unwilling face up against his groin and aimed his free arm down her back to her ass. The whip hissed and struck.

Belinda felt the man's leather-covered crotch mash against her painfully extended jaw and it nearly blocked her nostrils. Already humiliated, the thought of almost touching a black man's cock was too much. She started to struggle to get loose again. Then liquid fire splashed across her lower back and against each of her ass cheeks. Even the gag didn't distort the shrill yowl of pure agony that burst from her lips. Her back burned again; this time she heard the whistle of the whip through the air on its journey to destroy her body. She shrieked in pain again, … and again as he continued to stroke down her length with consistent, even-paced blows. Finally, she felt the pain slip away and she fainted.

The man was good. Robert saw that the instant her head slumped against his groin, the whipping stopped. The waitress slipped through the ropes again to check about refreshing their drinks. This time, she introduced herself as Denise George. Robert asked the leather-clad dom if he needed a drink yet. The man shook his head, no. At the response, Robert whispered something else to the waitress. She hesitated, looked at his face, and hesitantly nodded. He peeled off several $100 bills and she scurried away on her errand.

The dom continued to silently caress the unconscious woman's body, waiting for her to regain consciousness. It was slow going.

A huge bouncer slipped cumbersomely under the ropes and whispered in Robert's ear. He surreptitiously handed Robert two small bags filled with mesh-covered ampoules and a small plastic squeeze tube. Robert walked over and quietly spoke to the dom, "This is your scene and your rules. If you don't want this suggestion, then fine; I'll walk away for a while and let you do your work. However, the slut is my responsibility. I authorize you to use these if you wish. Just nod if you know what they are and want to use them."

The dom glanced at two baggies containing different chemicals and read the writing on the tube. He thought a moment and slowly nodded. Inwardly he grinned. The stranger with the juicy bitch just confirmed that he was no amateur. He nodded again in silent respect. One bag went into each of two leg pouches and the tube was set down on the small table beside the other bondage items. He left one ammonia capsule in his hand and broke it under her nose. The bound slut's response was immediate. Deciding that things should pick up a bit, he again presented his groin to the wildly uncooperative bitch. The more she wriggled and fought to escape his growing hardon, the more she choked herself and simultaneously sealed her doom. The man loved to dominate submissive sluts and this prejudiced bitch was getting his cock to wake up fast. He decided to put her through some hard paces.

Belinda woke to an awful burning in her nose. She jerked to escape the fumes and the unforgiving chain choked her breath away. Her head rebounded down and struck the leather-clad groin presented to her face. The fine, supple leather of the discipline hood did little to blunt the feel of the growing lump pressing against her face. Blinded by the man's groin in her face, she felt his hands clasp behind her head and her head yanked around his groin. She thought in terror, "He's masturbating against my face. What a disgusting creature."

The man stepped back and unzipped his pants. His hand clasped a monstrous, partially swollen snake as it uncoiled through the opening. The black cock was already nearly nine inches long and steadily pulsed larger and larger. He pulled one of his own condoms from a pocket, with obvious practice opened it, and slipped it one with only one hand. The other hand kept her head restrained the entire time.

After a few strokes to assure he was ready, he started to feed the head into her mouth. If the ringgag hadn't forced her jaws open unnaturally wide, the head would never have fit. The bulbous end was gigantic. It was the size of a small apple.

Belinda was in a panic. She could barely focus on the giant black cock that waved so close to her eyes. She got an instant headache tying to focus cross-eyed on the huge thing. Then it filled her stretched jaws and forced her tongue to the floor of her mouth. It filled her completely. She could only snort and wheeze trying to breathe through her nose. Suddenly, she snorted in a fiery breath that burned its way into her lungs. She tried to shake free of the vapor, but it started to make her dizzy and action in the room seemed to slow. Her body seemed to glow with sensation and she receded as if watching from a distance.

The dom felt her spasm beneath him as the amyl nitrate popper burst open under her nose just as she took another long shuddering snort through her mucous-filled nostrils. At the same time, her throat relaxed and he drove all the way in, fully seating eleven inches of soda can thick dick meat down her throat. He ground his pubic hairs against her stretched lips and reveled in the feeling. This bitch was his to dominate and she could do nothing to stop it. "Arghhhh," he grunted in glee.

Belinda felt everything with crystal clarity. Her headache increased, but it was the type sensation to ignore; so she did. Under the bondage hood, her face flushed and that extra flow of blood felt somehow sexual. The huge log jammed down her throat should have made her gag and vomit; instead, it felt good. She felt her throat spasm involuntarily around the cock, almost as if to massage it and pull it deeper into her gullet. The neurological overload somehow plugged into her female core, increasing blood flow to her cunt and vaginal mound. The area started to tingle.

The dom turned toward Robert and pointed to the plastic tube that he had been given. Robert stood up and grabbed the tube and a medium-sized dildo. He carefully spread a thin layer of the aromatic gel onto the cock and gently set it against her cunt. Once it was well seated and swirled around a few times, he thrust it home with a single thrust.

The effect was immediate. Belinda felt something fuck deep within her guts. She unconsciously raised her head in protest, choking herself and pulling the fleshy cock slightly out of her throat. Then the effect of the liniment hit her already heightened senses. The fiery heat exploded from her cunt, deep into her core. Her head plunged down, fully seating the monstrous cock into her throat. Her nose burned again, her lungs instantly metabolized the chemical, and her heart pumped it to her brain. She climaxed and the drug compressed time, and extending the drugged bitch's orgasm. The orgasm continued as the cock at her mouth and cunt started to move in and out, pumping more sensation into her body. Later, she would wonder that her body could climax so many times and for what seemed like hours. Belinda felt that her slutty body betrayed her, forcing her to become a whore and cock hound. Over the next hours, men and women would force her into orgasm after orgasm. She would never again think of herself as a classy, upper crust woman.

Denise George came by the outside of the roped area and got Robert's attention. He nodded back and slipped under the rope to join her, abandoning his bondage slave to the crowd's mercy. Robert had arranged for a private tour of the club. Earlier he offered to hire the waitress for her effort. She cleared it with the bartender and returned to take him through the extensive facilities. There were far more people in the club than he had first thought. In addition to the public areas where he left Belinda, there were individual rooms for private, voyeuristic, and hands-on participation. A few specialty areas drew Robert's attention. The club had a resident tattooist, a body-piercing specialist, and amazingly, a surgeon. Each specialist had small, permanent stands in an area build to resemble a dungeon with a series of alcoves. Each specialist was setup in one of the cave-like alcoves. Robert started to think that this visit might bear fruit beyond just the humiliation and breaking of slave Belinda.

Robert changed his mind about continuing the tour and paid Denise for her help. She kissed him back for the generous tip and squeezed his ass before he pulled back. "Maybe we can play around a little some other time?" she asked. "I am available for just about anything you want," she smiled and teased, "I just have to clear it with my boss."

Robert grinned and considered the offer. He told the busty young thing that he may just do that, and thanked her for the help. She strode away as he began a discussion with the piercing artist. Robert had more work to do that night. The club's doctor, a Doctor Joan Miller, was a tempting morsel that he wanted to get to know better and to feel her out for some high-price, and thoroughly unethical, medical procedures.

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

Some time later, Robert returned to claim his cunt from the free play area. A heavyset dyke held Belinda's fake red ponytail with both hands and swirled it around, forcing the exhausted woman's tongue to wander across her cunt mound. The dyke was seated, leaning back, with her legs wrapped around Belinda's back. Behind Belinda stood another woman holding a two-foot long, three-inch wide leather strap. As Belinda failed to perform energetically enough, the dyke would nod to her friend, whose powerful arms would sling the strap with an awful whistling sound ending in the splat of impact upon tender flesh. It appeared that Belinda had learned some new tricks that night.

Robert sat down at a nearby table and waved Denise, the cocktail waitress down. It looked as if the crowd wanted some more time with his toy. A hulking man eased gracefully into a chair beside Robert and held out his hand. "Good evening. I'm the manager of the club, Todd Mitchum."

Robert introduced himself and said something about enjoying his visit to the club.

Todd seemed to know all about his guest status and he also held Aaron/Robert's partner, Steve Austin, in high regard. There was a connection between the two, but Todd didn't volunteer much. However, he did add in all seriousness, "I just want to be sure that you enjoy this as a relaxing evening off and not to consider this a shopping trip."

Robert smiled and responded easily, "I understand completely. Actually my only intent tonight was to punish her," He nodded toward Belinda. "But, I have to admit that I have made some valuable contacts among your craftsmen here tonight. Is that a problem?"

Todd smiled and said, "No, actually I knew about your discussions with the tattoo artist, our resident piercing guy, and our on-staff doctor, the plastic surgeon. We find that it is handy to pay a good, reliable local doctor to be on hand in case a pet, toy, or sub gets unexpectedly damaged here at the club. The idea is to be as discrete as possible, and Doctor Joan Miller is both talented and discrete."

Robert agreed and the conversation shifted to Belinda. Todd said, "I gather that the lady is not too willing about being here tonight?"

Robert looked shocked and said with a grin, "Well, you can be sure that she is getting way more than she bargained for. Your customers seem to really enjoy playing with her."

Todd nodded and looked over where Belinda was now being double-teamed by two male muscular submissives. Their female Mistresses were stroking away at their asses as they fucked violently into Belinda. One was pounding deep into her gullet and his partner was buried deep into her rectum. If either showed signs of slowing, their Mistresses would snap a carriage whip at their naked and hairy asses. Each of the two was completely covered in sweat. Todd, smiled and explained, "Cock rings you know. They get to fuck till they drop, but can't come; especially in some strange cunt like that. I hear they get to beat off once a month while adoring their Mistress. Tough life being a sub."

Robert glanced over and wondered how their condoms could hold up under the blistering pace. Belinda would have a hard time walking tomorrow. She had some training coming in her new occupation as laundry slut and bondage whore. He would come back to the club again, probably with Belinda. Todd had told him that his entry and drinks were free anytime he brought the 'cunt'. When it came time for the tattoo and piercing to be done on Belinda, they would set her up in a back room, charge a nominal entry fee for a charitable cause, and once again allow free unrestricted play with her body. After all, there must be a needy charity in town somewhere.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 19 – A Drug Dealer's Downfall (or Five More in the Bag)

Things were looking up with his warehouse stock. Further, he had several prospects already lined up for acquisition in the Miami area. Aaron Clarke was a slaver. His fledgling franchise, quietly known as East Coast Slavers, had already grossed millions of dollars; interestingly, without selling any of his valuable merchandise. Instead, he had discovered that the process of harvesting merchandise often resulted in huge profits from unearthing illegal activities or stealing life savings.

A lawyer that was too involved in privileged information about Doctor Patricia Kay's links to the West Coast Slaver operation led to a windfall discovery. The lawyer was in partnership with a major drug organization and arranged to launder their illegal funds. Between the lawyer's access to his firm's illegal cash holdings, his own cash stash, and money stashed in offshore accounts, Aaron Clarke and his partner, Steve Austin, cleared over $9 million each in the subsequent bonanza. Two other women acquired, a stewardess and a dress shop owner, each had significant personal savings to pilfer. This money Aaron was able to keep, as Steve was satisfied that his $9 million more than covered any setup costs for the east coast franchise.

Aaron's stock of slaves and workers at that time included:

Cage Number/Name Age/Hair Color Status
1-Wanda Alvernon 22-brunette caged and in training
1-Katria Sjogreen 26-blonde caged, in training
2-Ingrid Gaviard 36-black hair caged, temp assigned as assistant trainer
3-Sandy Hamilton 26-blonde caged, in training
4-Barbara Michaels 19-blonde caged, virgin, not started training
5-Belinda Maticevski 46-blonde caged, fulltime laundry cunt
Connie Baxter 32-blonde free – B.V.I.
Sophia Lenz 22-blonde free – freelance summer hooking in B.V.I.
Rochelle Grosso 22-brunette free – freelance summer hooking in B.V.I.
Puppy 27-hairless pug Slave Mistress and Chief Trainer

Aaron reviewed the status of his stock on the computer. Two very special slaves, Wanda and Katria, were in the midst of an expensive and long-term training program led by his chief trainer Puppy. He and Steve expected to make several million dollars from their sale as highly intelligent and fully educated companion slaves. This limited, high-end market was closely following an exciting password-controlled internet website that Steve Austin was hosting. Puppy was continually feeding training schedules, written evaluations, still photographs, and video clips of the on going, six-month training regime to Steve for mounting on the website. During the next few months, the interested buyers would keep up a steady bidding war as training progressed.

Ingrid and Sandy were undergoing much less involved training. Originally intended for sale as a pair, Aaron had changed their classification entirely. His first idea was to let the submissive Ingrid victimize the switch-hitting Sandy as a bondage slut sub. Sandy liked playing the dominate role most often and would occasionally sub to Aaron. She enjoyed sex with both men and women, but hated the idea of a woman dominating her. Aaron thought it would be fun to switch the two back to a more natural role after a month of forcing Sandy to learn the ropes as the sub. The counterpoint of Sandy's blonde and voluptuous body compared to Ingrid's older but still slim body and black hair was a consideration for selling the two as a pair.

Aaron changed his mind about the two during their initial break-in session. Sandy was treated as any other new acquisition and harshly introduced to the realities of slavery. In order to persuade her to give up the account passwords and codes of her inheritance and life savings, Ingrid was treated more carefully. Aaron didn't want to resort to torturing an innocent. As a result, she so impressed him during the process that he bartered with her, allowing certain privileges. There were several thorns in the nice package he offered. She promised to be the dedicated and willing trainer of her prior tormentor, Sandy Hamilton, in return for subjecting herself as his willing slave one day of each of the following twelve weeks. Ingrid would in essence train herself to be his slave. She most wanted to retain the luxury privilege of clothes for the other six days of the week.

Belinda was an unplanned acquisition who interfered with Aaron's plan to surprise Puppy with a special reward for her service to the fledgling organization. The haughty owner of a fashionable boutique had insulted both Aaron Clarke and Puppy. Poor manners and unnecessary rudeness were failings that Aaron despised. Belinda was captured, publicly abused and raped in a bondage club, and enslaved as the organization's fulltime laundry and warehouse cleaning cunt. At forty-six, it was unlikely that a buyer would step forward and purchase her unless it was for a particularly luckless use. Even with her just-fading beauty, she would be sought after as a blonde gringa bitch and lead performer in a sex show or low-end bordello in a remote mining town. Belinda's body was worth significantly less than the nearly new Jaguar that Aaron stole from her. She would never gross more than $25 thousand, even for a snuff film. Belinda was lucky to be kept long-term as laundry and cleaning cunt.

Belinda's assistant, Barbara Michaels, was a juicy acquisition. At nineteen, she was the youngest slave Aaron had acquired to date. She was only harvested because she was with her boss, Belinda, when she was kidnapped. Barbara also had the same stuck up attitude and haughty manners. Too busy yet to break her in, she presented some possibilities. If Sandy wasn't irretrievably broken to her new role as bondage slut, it was possible that the switch he originally planned for Sandy could still take place. He thought about giving Barbara to Sandy as her sub and then allowing Sandy to switch between the role of mistress to a slave and slave herself. Aaron liked the plan because it improved the marketability when packaged as a set with specialty skills.

Sophia Lenz and Rochelle Grosso were two local college girls who had drifted into summer prostitution in the British Virgin Islands to make tuition and school year expense money. Currently, they were on summer break and hard at work whoring in Road Town, Tortola.

Aaron daydreamed back to the first training session that Puppy led the newly minted dominatrix Ingrid through. Aaron left early that morning on his whirlwind trip through the Caribbean with Doctor Rachael Quaid so he found out about the woman's training debut from Puppy's detailed training notes and videotape. The tape showed a happy Ingrid strutting about in the outfit mandated by Puppy. As head mistress, Puppy decided the specifics of what Ingrid was to do in training or she faced vicious reprisal. Aaron had explained that the greater the privilege enjoyed, the harsher the penalty for even a slight infraction.

Undergarments were forbidden to Ingrid unless she was undergoing a vigorous physical training activity such as running or aerobic dance. As a result, she was naked under her extremely short black leather miniskirt and skimpy black leather bustier. Her ample breasts threatened to spring out the top of the outfit. Nonetheless, Ingrid was delighted with the outfit when faced with the alternative that Sandy faced, naked, subservient slavery. Puppy directed her to sit and look relaxed while she brought Sandy to her for training. On a stand beside her chair were a stack of training placards printed out by Puppy to direct both Ingrid and Sandy through the morning's events. Sandy already knew the day's routine from her copy of the schedule in her cage. The day's training schedule was:

Introduction to Whipping (Ingrid on Sandy) – twenty minutes (Pad H – Punishment Cage)
Oral Skills (Sandy on Ingrid) – a one-hour block (Pad F)
Introduction to Bondage (Ingrid practice on Sandy) – one hour session (Bedroom 4B)
Treadmill exercise – a one-hour session (Pad D)
Break Time (Ingrid) – if earned à two hour Free Reward Choice (to include lunch)
Break Time (Sandy – in most rigorous tie Ingrid can think up) – one and one-half hours
Snack & Short Break (Sandy only) – thirty minutes
Anal Muscle Relaxation (Ingrid using strap-on with Sandy) – a half hour (Bedroom 4B)
Bathing of Bondage Sluts (Ingrid on Sandy) – one hour session (Bathroom 4B)
Conclude Training Day (Ingrid to hand paddle Sandy) – twenty minutes (Bedroom 4B)

The start was delicious. It was all captured on videotape to the slight discomfort of Ingrid and full mortification of Sandy. Sandy came into the training area from her cage naked except for her ever-present voice activated dog-training collar, two wrist cuffs, and two ankle cuffs. Puppy followed, hand already poised above the punishment panel least Sandy fail to respond properly. Puppy could punish either woman from her control panel, as Ingrid and Sandy would always wear their collars for the duration of her captivity. As the two trainers watched, Sandy walked across the blue mattress of Pad H and buckled her wrist cuffs to a spreader bar hanging loosely from the frame above. Puppy sat in a chair adjacent to Ingrid's and nodded her approval to proceed. Ingrid closely followed her detailed cheat sheet and silently walked to the corner of the open cage and pulled down on a half-inch line connected to a fixed pulley high above and a floating block just above the spreader bar. The two pulley blocks made it easy to lift Sandy up to her tiptoes as the simple mechanical system provided a three to one advantage to Ingrid. Ingrid then walked up to Sandy and ran her hand down the woman's sensitive side. "Little slut, Puppy will turn your collar off. However, no talking, screaming, or crying; else, she will punish you through her control panel. Only correct voice responses are allowed." She then leaned down and attached the ankle cuffs to a spreader bar already anchored to the floor. Ingrid returned to the lifting line and tightened it up, stretching Sandy up into the air, tautly spread-eagled.

Ingrid's directions were simple. She was to start with a paddle, and progress through a crop, a carriage whip, and finally a heavy leather three-inch barber strop. She was to learn how to use each punishment device to hit specific body parts and maintain a carefully controlled stroke. To gain maximum points in this exercise, the trainer had to hit twenty blows with each device (except the barber strop which required only half the strokes), and elicit only one shriek on the twentieth blow, all within five minutes per punishment device. Too many shrieks and Sandy would be punished if she was judged unable to properly control herself. Ingrid would be punished for strokes too hard or too soft. No slaves would know about the arrangement with punishing a mistress in training. Only to Aaron, Puppy, and Ingrid herself would know the details of any punishment or reward received. Puppy and the video camera would grade each participant in this twenty-minute session.

In today's exercise, the paddle was for Sandy's slightly too full ass cheeks. Ingrid maintained body control by placing her left hand on Sandy's lower tummy and rubbing the paddle across the bound woman's ass. "Slut, this is the paddle. What do you say?" Ingrid stated a little self-consciously.

Sandy knew the proper response, "Please Mistress, punish this slut with the paddle. Strike me until you are satisfied."

"Very well then kiss the paddle and we will begin. You will count each stroke."

Sandy kissed the offered paddle with some show of eagerness. After all, she knew the consequences of not meeting her rigid standards. Aaron Clarke had pointedly demonstrated that the day before. She remembered her promise to herself, "Be a good slave and never draw his ire."

Ingrid touched the paddle to the outside of the nearest cheek and struck a somewhat tentative blow.

"One, Mistress. This slave thanks you," was Sandy's response.

Ingrid continued and slowly established an even tempo to her strikes. First, she circled the outside of the girl's ass cheeks and the slight crease under her butt itself. Her left hand felt the slight echo of each blow through the slave's belly. It was an exhilarating experience. Her hand dipped slowly lower toward the cunt mound with each blow. Ingrid carefully measured the pain in each response. Her goal was to heighten this level of pain, but keep it within Sandy's control until the very end of each phase.

Sandy managed a, "Ten, Mistress. This slave thanks you." So far, Ingrid was doing well.

The paddling continued. Now she focused on the plump cheeks themselves. Each new blow brought more rosy glows to the cheeks and delicious jiggling as well as a little hip thrusting. The hits were causing pain. Sandy couldn't escape the training. As this phase ended, Ingrid had the measure of the tool and struck a final and heavy blow directly on the twin mounds. Sandy shrieked. Ingrid and Puppy exchanged silent nods of agreement that things were going well.

Sandy's upper legs were the target for the riding crop. This tool was not too difficult to master and Ingrid did well with it. She started with a series of ten blows solely for the back of Sandy's legs from the knees to just under the rosy ass cheeks. Sandy was still full of energy and her voice indicated she was able to control the pain. Ingrid swung around to her front and struck a backhand swipe against the slave's inner thigh.

"Eiii," hissed Sandy. Then after a pause, "Eleven, Mistress. This slave thanks you."

Ingrid had lost control of the awkward swing and hit Sandy far too hard. She had no choice but to continue. The inner thighs were difficult to hit with the correct measure of strength. By the nineteenth blow, Sandy had lost control twice more. The twentieth blow hit with a resounding splat, reflecting some of Ingrid's frustration in not fully mastering the tool.

Sandy's final comment on the riding crop was a resounding "Eiiiii! Owww, Mistress. Twenty, Mistress. This slave thanks you."

Puppy showed Ingrid her score placard: Phase I – 100%; Phase II – 70%.

Ingrid wasn't sure what the score meant, but resolved to do better with the next instrument.

The carriage whip was far more difficult to use. Ingrid was to strike Sandy only across her belly, sides, and lower back. Earlier, Puppy demonstrated how to make a sidearm swing to keep the tip from wandering up toward the face or down toward the pussy. At least this technique insured any misses remained in a controlled horizontal plane.

Ingrid's first stroke hit Sandy's bellybutton full on. She grimaced in pain but managed her proper, "One Mistress. This slave thanks you." Ingrid continued. It was difficult to control the lightweight tip with the correct velocity. Several strokes were too soft. Several were too hard. By the twentieth blow, clearly half the strokes were the wrong strength.

Puppy showed Ingrid her updated score placard: Phase I – 100%; Phase II – 70%; Phase III – 50%.

Ingrid groaned knowing this was not a good sign.

The last drill was using the evil strop. Ingrid hefted its heavy weight in dismay. It could cause tremendous damage. Puppy told Ingrid to punish Sandy's upper back and breasts with the heavy three-inch strop. Ingrid held the crop out for Sandy to kiss.

Sandy kissed the crop. The very first blow caused her to grunt in pain but she managed her, "One Mistress. This slave thanks you."

Ingrid was a little relieved at this and swung a second blow to the blonde's middle back. It struck with a meaty splat.

Sandy immediately screamed, "Eiii. Ohhh fuck, that hurts Mistress, … Two, Mistress. This slave thanks you."

Ingrid walked over to Puppy and whispered, "This is too much. This thing will kill her."

Puppy hesitated, nodded and held up the placard for the second training program, and gave Ingrid the chain lead for the punished slave. Ingrid set down the paddle and connected the lead chain to Sandy's slave collar. After unlocking her from her bonds, Sandy quietly followed to Training Pad F. Sandy was to demonstrate her oral skill level to a waiting video camera and to Ingrid as the receptor of her oral ministrations.

Sandy was not prepared mentally for this next session. She was not bi-sexual or lesbian. In fact, she preferred to be the dominant partner. Puppy's training notes indicated that this was a session where she was encouraged to use hands, lips, and tongue to get Ingrid to climax a maximum number of times in an hour. If she failed to meet Puppy's minimum standards, she would be whipped.

Puppy sat in her director's chair and confirmed that the video camera was properly aligned to catch all the action. She waved to her key players to begin. Ingrid leaned back against a pile of pillows, still as fully clothed as she was allowed. A small version of the shock collar controller was tightly grasped in her left hand. It was a dead-man switch that, if released, would trigger a continuous punishment shock to Sandy Hamilton.

At the wave, Sandy lay down on the blue workout mattress and crawled, tits and belly dragging, across the mat toward Ingrid's cunt. Her goal, to get Ingrid off at least ten times in an hour. For this session, Puppy allowed her to use fingers, hands, lips, tongue, anything that would turn on her mistress. Sandy started by kissing Ingrid's right calf and running her hands above her own blonde hair to massage Ingrid's smooth belly above her cunt. Sandy was a little surprised when she realized that her Mistress had no panties on. She realized with a groan of dismay that maybe that meant she would be eating a lot of pussy from now on. Regardless of her reluctance to suck cunt, within a minute Sandy had Ingrid's skirt above her waist, the older woman's tits flopping free, and her face already covered with Ingrid's cunt butter.

Aaron's later review of the video clearly showed Ingrid beginning her first, long climax as she yanked Sandy's ears to bury her deeper into her spasming cunt. Both Sandy and Ingrid were rewarded at the end of the long training day. First, though, each had to receive their corrective punishments for the day's minor infractions. Actually, Sandy performed flawlessly, but still received a stiff hand-spanking while across her new Mistress' lap. Ingrid was not quite so lucky. Yes, she got a two-hour midday reward while Sandy squirmed helplessly in bondage firmly applied by the novice dominatrix. Before bedtime, Puppy used the crop and carriage whip on her pupil as Ingrid failed to fully master them earlier that day.

The punishment was a triple humiliation for Ingrid. First, she lost her Mistress status during punishment and had to act the willing slut slave. Second, Ingrid had to remove her own clothing and present herself to her Mistress, begging for corrective punishment. Third, the punishment was extra severe given her privileged role. She scored a 100% with the paddle and escaped corrective spankings with that tool. However, she got a 30 % and 50% failure score with the crop and carriage whip. Using a multiplication factor of three, due to her status, she would receive the number of blows calculated by multiplying three to the number of assigned blows and then using the failure percentage against that number. Thus, at 3 X 20 X .30, she would get eighteen blows from the crop and thirty from the carriage whip (3 X 20 X .50). The strop was deemed too dangerous a tool and Ingrid got a bye on that correction. She was lucky, the strop calculation was disastrous, at 3 X 10 X .9, she would have received twenty-seven blows. This represented a punishment far greater than her original task of striking Sandy with ten.

Ingrid unzipped her prized black leather skirt and let it slide down her long, beautiful legs. She stepped out of her heels and then started to untie her bustier. With some trepidation, but no reluctance as she fully realized the consequences of failing to provide unconditional surrender, she sank to her belly, spread her legs lewdly, and crawled to her Mistress' feet. "Mistress, this worthless cunt begs your forgiveness. I failed to fully master the crop, whip, and strop today. Please use this valueless carcass to demonstrate their proper use."

Puppy smiled down and her disciple and nodded.

Ingrid pretended joy with the decision and carefully braided a long blonde hair extension onto her black hair. Then with mounting fear, she forced her head into a bondage hood and laced it tightly. Blind now with the eye slits covered, she felt around for the ballgag. Unseen tears soaked her face as she retched a little from the effort of gagging herself. Last, she clicked a leash onto her training collar and knelt, arm outstretched holding the leash for her owner to take.

Puppy led her charge out of their private room and into the more public slave training area. Any slave would think Ingrid simply another unfortunate blonde captive, rather than their Assistant Training Mistress. Ingrid felt the cool leather of a vaulting horse bump against her waist. Without cue, she leaned across it and widely outstretched her hands to grab handles on the ends. Her job was to hold on during the corrective punishment.

Puppy leaned her clothed form across her slave's back and licked behind her neck seductively. Puppy was going to get her own reward out of this session. She had a surprise in store for Ingrid.

Her blind captive whimpered in fear. She couldn't help it. Her cunt spasmed and drooled at the humiliation, for she did crave that. However, the fear was palatable, and real. The punishment would hurt, especially the strop. She thought that phase of punishment would cripple her and she trembled in fearful anticipation. Meantime, her traitorous cunt swelled with blood and itched in readiness. Unconsciously, her hips wriggled a little against Puppy's leather-clad hips.

Puppy grinned and stepped back to begin. Puppy went through the eighteen blows of the crop quickly. She focused entirely on Ingrid's ass, the backs of her upper thighs, and as close to the woman's pussy as she could get. Ingrid's ass danced appetizingly with each blow. As planned, Ingrid attempted to howl and scream into her gag with each striking blow. The thirty strokes of the carriage whip followed as well. These were spaced across the exposed back, shoulders, and legs of the sobbing woman. It was over in less than five minutes.

Puppy gently moved Ingrid's hands from their death-grip on the handles and let her sweat-streaked form slump down to the mattress. She undid the gag with some difficulty and pulled out the obscene ball, trailing spittle. The Velcro eye patches were next and the still sobbing woman tried to focus on a small printed placard held in front of her face. It read:

Three-inch barber strop – twenty-seven blows
Life is full of choices:

A trainer takes the punishment and continues on
A worthless slut finds a way out

Your choice – the strop or your slavish tongue on my pussy for an hour (just like your slave Sandy today)
Choose now

Ingrid practically sobbed with relief. She would do anything to keep from getting the strop. "Pussy, … Mistress, … I, … this worthless cunt wants to eat your pussy. Please Mistress, let this whore worship your pussy," Ingrid begged, whimpered, and cried as her tongue stuck out of the featureless black mask and nuzzled up Puppy's thigh toward her hairless cunt. Taking silence for approval, Ingrid dove up under the dress as fast as she could. Puppy grinned at how happy Aaron would be at the turn of events. Ingrid worked so hard as a trainer of slaves yet had to act the slave herself, only willingly. It was delicious. Ingrid's tongue had now wormed its way all around her tattooed labia and plunged inside her pink pussy. Puppy's head flipped back onto the mattress and Ingrid quickly spun around aligning her own naked pussy above Puppy's head. Ingrid feverishly yanked the Head Mistress' dress down her legs and grabbed them to raise Puppy's pussy up and bring her knees to her black bustier. Ingrid now lapped from the wide-open ass crack around the glistening pussy and nipped at the clit peeking out from the protective folds of her clitoral hood. Ingrid took a chance and lowered her own needy pussy onto her Mistress' face, completely trapping the woman. Puppy reciprocated and each Mistress whimpered into the other's pussy as they each exploded in ecstasy.

Aaron grinned in remembrance of the irony of Ingrid's plight. Ingrid was contributing so much more than the other slaves that he hoped to find a means for further entrapping the woman into being both his willing trainer of slaves and a willing cock and cunt hound herself. "What was the hook to use?" he muttered. "Oh, well. Everything in its own time."

Aaron returned to the overwhelming stack of data arrayed across his desk. His raid of the law firm hired by the out of control Doctor Kay generated lots of information. Nathanial Archibold's office files, appointment book, and rolodex were on Aaron's desk. The interview tape made with the deceased lawyer was in a cassette player and his computer held files stored in Nathanial's workstation. He wearily rubbed his temples and turned to a chart he had built on a dry-erase board. Yellow sticky notes added details to the diagram depicted a wide-spread organization.

Nathanial worked directly for one of at least four major drug organizations operating in the southeastern United States. Beyond a few tenuous references, Aaron had discovered nothing concrete about them. The dirty lawyer did blab extensively about the Lynden Organization that he laundered drug proceeds for and, based on the cocaine found in his safe, took some drugs in trade for use with his friends.

According to the deceased lawyer, Oscar Lynden and his lieutenant James Lee brought drugs into Florida from clients in Mexico, Colombia, and the Caribbean. Nathanial used three major offshore banks in the Grand Caymans, Bermuda, and the Bahamas to begin the process of washing the illegal funds. Aaron Clarke had already moved $5 million out of each bank where the funds sat awaiting withdrawal by the Colombia connection or Lynden himself. Somebody would be hopping mad about the disappearance of the lawyer and the money.

Aaron knew only a few facts about the drug dealer's operations in the Caribbean. Beyond some 'war names' used, the best information was a physical description of three of them and a known rendezvous point. Final arrangements prior to transferring cash and cocaine occurred on board a pirate ship, the 'Willy T.' A floating restaurant used by yachters in the Sir Francis Drake Channel, the Willy T was permanently moored in The Bight, a bay on Norman Island, one of the British Virgin Islands. A representative from the Colombian cartel, La Fecha, and two trusted boat captains, El Ingeniero and El Nato, frequently met on the boat.

Aaron punched up a Map-Quest screen and located the exact location of the homes for drug kingpin and his senior lieutenant. The real estate section of the Miami Herald and some online real estate companies yielded a lot of information on the wealthy neighborhood. Next, Aaron started to plot addresses from the website of the Miami Tax Assessor and realized many of the plots were still unoccupied. Finished lots were assessed at between twelve and eighteen million dollars. Obviously, there was a lot of construction and real estate activity in the neighborhood. He decided to conduct a mid-day reconnaissance in his new Jaguar.

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

Earlier that very afternoon, Aaron Clarke pulled out of his warehouse in the convertible XKR 450 Grand Prix. The sky was clear and the temperature warm; so having the top down made sense. The anthracite and ivory classic trim gave the late model vehicle beauty that matched its flawless performance. The car had belonged to a dress shop owner, Belinda Maticevski, who now toiled chained and naked as the laundry and cleaning cunt at the warehouse. Aaron was punishing the woman for her bad manners, a crime that he considered so insidious in nature that it couldn't be tolerated.

Aaron confidently drove north up the interstate from Coral Gables. The car was legally his, at least in the form of perfect paperwork and altered VIN numbers. The work cost money, but Aaron's partner, Steve Austin, provided the contacts.

He signaled a turn to exit to the Rickenbacker Causeway and the bridges that led to Key Biscayne. The road took him to a tiny development on Biscayne Bay facing the mainland, six and a half miles away. The place reeked of luxurious isolation and money. A large golf course was just two and a half miles north of the series of sites under development. There were only two streets and about ten potential home sites. The drug dealers' homes were among the few occupied. Lynden lived on the water on Opa-Locka Drive and Sill's home was also a waterfront lot on Marathon Drive. The homes were less than a mile apart and separated by state park and sanctuary land. Each had unfinished homes beside them. An unfinished pier structure was barely visible on the lot adjacent to Sill's home. Construction trucks, vans, and cars kept a steady stream of traffic going through the area in the afternoon. Ultimately, the area would be gated, but with access limited to a single road from the mainland, nighttime security was limited.

Aaron never left his vehicle and was completed within minutes. He saw no unusual signs of activity near either home.

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

Aaron had returned to his warehouse, made arrangements for the evening, and packed equipment into his van. This time, Aaron drove south along Biscayne Bay toward Biscayne National Park, looking for a small marina. Aaron arranged for the three-day rental of a powerful motorboat. The Mastercraft Mari-Star 280 STS was plenty fast enough in a ski-boat role; but at 28-feet long, was able to easily double as a cruiser for distance and speed. The twin V-8 engines and the well-designed hull sliced north though the calm waters toward Key Biscayne. The 280 STS ate up the eighteen mile voyage effortlessly and then quietly throbbed toward shore without running lights. Aaron's goal was the tiny bay by James Sill's home. The night was cloudy and black without moonlight; perfect for a surreptitious approach to a target.

Except for lights from a small number of homes, the island was dark and deserted looking. The inboards that roared with such power moments before gently purred as Aaron glided up to the skeleton pier adjacent to the Sill's lot.

He carefully secured the boat and jumped ashore from the bow. The landing was heavy with his large duffle bag of tools and gear. The weapons distributed on his black clothing increased his bulk. He crouched down and crept up toward a sandy path that cut through the dune. He paused to survey the unfinished home to his front and James' home to the left.

As expected, James' huge estate was well lit and music floated gently on the beach winds. Aaron thanked the gods that the on-shore breeze kept the mosquitoes at bay as he forgot to pack any bug spray. The partially constructed home he stood close by was a surprise. The side facing the Sill's home was dark and empty, but hidden away on the opposite lower level a thin shaft of light escaped from under a garage door and through a nearby window. Two vans from a local construction firm were backed up to the concrete side of the garage.

Aaron set his bag down and crept up to the window. The garage was some sort of operations center. Three men and three women wearing SWAT attire were standing in front of a bank of monitors showing the outside of James Sill's home. Handsets and audio recorders sat ready for use.

"Fuck me! Looks like a task force is looking into our dirty friend's activities," Aaron told himself. "And six of them. Holy Shit!" The three women were observably cute, even in their bulky black battledress uniforms and protective vests. The presence of the men, and all the weapons displayed, quickly cooled his interest.

Aaron studied the video displays and took some pleasure in noticing that all the camera angles were from this house. As no interior video views were shown, he guessed that the audio feeds were probably all from phone taps and parabolic antenna aimed from above.

He decided to continue with his mission despite the police presence. It was doubtful that they were allowed to leave the observation post except at shift change. Aaron crept back to retrieve his bag and backtracked to the beach. The sand dune would shelter him from discovery from either home.

James Lee had no pier, but an elaborate gazebo perched high on the dune above with beach stairs descending toward the surf. Aaron crouched down and slid into the darkness under the wooden structure. He paused and held his breath when a couple, previously silent, began to argue.

"James, you bastard! You know I'm good for the money. My husband will give me half what you need on Monday. Till then, you have to wait," a woman shrilly commanded from just above his position in the dry sand.

A loud slap instantly exploded into the night followed by the thump of a form bouncing off the railing. A cold voice replied, "Look bitch, there's no credit with cocaine. My boss is already pissed I gave you $20 thousand worth as is. Your snooty husband was too pussy to confront me and sent his cunt down instead."

The woman sobbingly replied, "No, … No, James. It's just, … he's gone on business for a day or so and I don't have access to the money. The coke is gone and I need more for a party tomorrow. Please," she started to beg, "You know I'm good for it. We've bought plenty from you before."

Another slap resounded through the night and the woman started sobbing again. Aaron heard clothing ripping and a long white dress fluttered down to land beside him. The sound of crying intensified and a bra and panties quickly followed. Aaron heard gagging sounds and guessed correctly that someone was getting throat fucked.

The sound of flesh striking flesh, punctuated with gagging and retching sounds, intensified. The man quickly pumped his cum into the woman's mouth and threw her to the gazebo floor. Sand slipped down through cracks between the boards, wafting down to dust Aaron.

"Get yourself together and come join the party inside." The man then laughed and added, "Maybe if you fuck my guards well enough, they'll recommend I increase your credit by a thousand or so. Plan on spending the night if you want your clothes and car keys back." Aaron heard the distinctive sound of James' zipper and then the thump of his shoes as he strode up the boardwalk back to the estate.

Aaron walked the few feet back to the foot of the access stairs and quickly climbed the steps to the dark gazebo. Before the still crying blonde knew what happened, the stun gun was punched into her already curled fetal form and discharged. Aaron risked a quick peek at her features with his penlight. The woman was a real beauty. Aaron thought maybe she was a trophy wife; but certainly the benefactor of a talented surgeon's scalpel. Her D-cup tits were too firm and unsagging to be natural. Even lying on her side, the tits stuck out like twin blimps, full and sag-free. A hogtie harness, handcuffs, and a ballgag quickly immobilized the woman. Aaron slid his black duffle bag under a bench seat and ran back down the beach with the woman awkwardly bouncing on his shoulder.

"Next time," he thought, "I hogtie them after I carry them away." Her slight form was hard to carry when it couldn't be simply draped over his shoulder. He threw her on the boat's forward deck and sprinted back to the base of the gazebo.

It was at least two hundred feet from the gazebo to the house. Aaron retrieved the woman's shredded clothing and continued toward the house, walking under cover of the walkway above and the smaller dunes beside him. He soon arrived at the side of the home. Villa more properly described the dwelling. He moved along the wall toward the front of the building. It was hard for Aaron to judge, but there was no party going on above him. He thought maybe a small gathering. It was hard to tell.

At the home's front, Aaron saw only three cars. He thought that the cream colored 2005 Mercedes SLK 350 Roadster in the driveway probably belonged to the woman. Aaron started to hope only a few others were upstairs.

One man lounged nonchalantly, and none too alertly, on the front porch. Well silhouetted by the porch light, he was clearly bored. Aaron checked to confirm that the man was just out of view of the spying crew next door. He popped up about fifteen feet away and fired, a taser dart struck the guard's exposed throat and another, his cheek. It was a good shot.

Aaron tightly tied the guard and jammed a cloth gag into his mouth. A syringe load of a strong relaxant would make him unconscious before the effect of the taser wore off. He was left stashed around the edge of the house, in the darkest corner of the porch.

Aaron snapped in a new taser cartridge and shifted the gun to his left hand. His 9-mm automatic went into his strongest arm. Aaron left his duffle bag beside the fallen guard and slipped into the house. The entry was huge, sparsely furnished, and vacant. The stereo was on this level, but the only sounds of people came faintly down the nearby staircase from upstairs.

At the top of the stairs was a landing that looked out to the far area of the lower level on one end and opened above into an entertainment room. Exposed at the top of the stairs, Aaron was thankful that the large open room was empty. A hallway continued away from the room and the stairs, presumably to bedrooms. The kitchen below was hidden, but the other rooms were empty. Aaron turned his attention to the upstairs hallway.

The first bedroom door was partially open; inside were two naked girls asleep in the king-size bed. They looked incredibly young and from the tube tops and miniskirts thrown carelessly around, were probably hookers. In the open bathroom beyond, Aaron saw a naked and hairy ass sticking out from the bent over form of a large man. He was snorting lines of cocaine off the glistening granite vanity top. A quick transfer of weapons, a squeeze of the taser trigger, and the second bodyguard was down on the bathroom floor. He was trussed up the same way as the other guard, sedated, and thrown into the empty Jacuzzi.

Aaron checked the girls and decided that extra sedation might kill them; they were stoned to the gills. He wondered what mixture of drugs they ingested with their cocaine. The girls were thin and skanky. Tattoos and too much time on the streets cheapened their looks and left nothing for Aaron to profit from.

Two other suites on the hall were empty. The last doorway was to the master suite. It was occupied by a couple arguing. The woman was resisting the man's efforts to get her into his bed. The arrogant male voice was the same as outside on the gazebo.

"Come on, Karen. If ya don't wanna fuck, at least give me a blow job," Aaron heard. The man wasn't begging and he was clearly working toward getting his dick into the woman.

"James, you know that I enjoy your company; but, I'm not one of your drug whores. If you want to fuck, then go get that blonde big-titted bitch Emily. She may not want it, but you'll like it better that way anyhow."

"Karen, baby. You sure seem to know me. I like that you don't mind me fucking around. It's time though that you showed your appreciation to me," James continued with his line of shit.

"James, you know I don't do drugs and don't want to fuck till you commit to me with a ring. Once we're engaged, then its OK. I'll cut your dick off if I catch you nailing some skanky whore without a condom on though."

James muttered under his breath, turned to leave, and walked right into Aaron's stun gun. Karen went down soundlessly with a taser dart drilled deep in each of her impressive tits. James was tied and gagged. He never even saw Aaron. The drug dealer was thrown into his bathroom and left, limply unconscious in the Jacuzzi.

Karen was tied up and left outstretched on the floor with a ballgag tightly buckled around her head.

Aaron feverously reloaded his taser and again ran through every room upstairs. The master bedroom closet and a small office connecting to the bedroom suite were both bonanzas. Seven bales of money and kilo bricks of cocaine were stacked in the closet. Aaron threw several of the packages of cocaine into his duffle bag and filled it the rest of the way with money.

He then walked decisively into the master bathroom holding a brick of cocaine in his hand. The now conscious drug dealer was struggling in the Jacuzzi. A slice of his razor sharp knife freed a half-cup sized chunk of cocaine into his fist. Aaron held the deadly drug hidden in his left hand and struck James in the solar plexus. As the man gasped and wheezed, the gag was whisked away, and a handful of the cocaine was mashed into his mouth. The drug flooded James' lungs and was sucked down into his stomach. Aaron filled the gapping, powder-filled mouth with tequila from the nightstand and forced James to swallow, again and again. James Lee ingested over a half pound of cocaine before cardiac arrest took his life. Aaron broke up the rest of the cocaine brick and scattered it across the still body.

Aaron settled Karen across one shoulder and grabbed a bulging duffle bag. It was time for another sprinting run out the house, around under the walkway to the gazebo, and down the damp beach toward the boat. Karen was also thrown onto the forward deck of the boat and hogtied. By now, both Emily and Karen were aware and complaining about their situation. Aaron decided to test the ballgags. To keep Karen from having an unfair advantage, he yanked her top and bra down around her waist before tightly grasping a nipple in each hand. A vicious twist and pinch yielded a faint "hmmp" and some violent twitching. Karen's gag was tight enough. He repeated the move on Emily's already naked tits. She also bucked and tried to get free. Her muffled cries were quieter. Aaron figured she was tired from her longer bondage and her mistreatment at the gazebo.

Aaron grabbed two spare duffle bags and returned to the house for the rest of the money. Minutes later, sweat dripping from his face, Aaron stashed the last of the seven bales of cash and at least twenty-five kilograms of cocaine, along with the two bound beauties, in the cabin of the motorboat.

Minutes later, Aaron was quietly motoring away from the shore. His focus was intently on the horizon, looking for other boats. The intercoastal waterway was empty so he clicked on his running lights and smoothly motored up to thirty miles per hour. The measured pace would get him to his van in about thirty-five minutes. His car was parked in a crushed coral parking lot by a small public pier, miles south of where he rented the boat. His plan was to dump his acquisitions into the van, cover everything with a comforter, and motor back up to the marina where he rented the boat.

After ten minutes cruising south down the intercoastal waterway, Aaron decided to check up on his two captives. He was worried about the stakeout site next to the raided drug lieutenant's home.

Off on the starboard side, he saw a lot of activity by Mattheson Hammock Park and cut back on the throttle to swing toward a cluster of boats anchored off the park's beach. He easily captured a permanent mooring buoy with the boat's gaff and secured the bobbing craft. The engines were cut, the running lights left on, and the twenty-eight foot boat swung about to gently bob in the low swells. Aaron moved over toward his captives.

Both women were awake and angrily grunted, groaned, and cried into their gags. Each was secured identically; wrist and ankle cuffs locked on each extremity and chained together behind their backs in a loose hogtie. Neither looked threatening to Aaron.

Somewhat reassured, Aaron dumped the contents of the two women's purses on a tabletop. The first purse belonged to the naked woman, Emily. He kept the woman's wallet and identification. Her cell phone and all the other purse contents splashed into the dark waters, one by one. He stashed the two empty purses in a bag for later disposal. The women's pasts were soon reduced to a small pile of wallets, checkbooks, and key rings.

He sat and considered what to do next. Idly he sipped from the plastic nipple of a sports drink and thought of the cold Pacifico Beers in his van's cooler. He knelt down beside the naked housewife and reviewed her statistics. Her name was Emily Davis, she was a blonde (Aaron yanked Emily onto her side and shined a flashlight at her trimmed bush – yep she was a true blonde). The identification gave her age as twenty-six and her weight as 115 pounds (Aaron set down the flashlight to maul each of her huge tits and judged Emily a trophy housewife with D+ breasts). "You are a fine catch girl," he said as he slapped her ass and settled her back on her belly.

The other woman was twenty-four and named Karen Rigdon, the hugely endowed blonde that wanted James to commit to an engagement. Karen had lost her heels during her kidnapping and lay on her side facing him. Aaron went straight for the gigantic mounds. Her short dress was ripped off, revealing a lacy bra. The meat packed into the cups were all girl. Even in the dark night, enough light from the running lights showed the entire breast, areoles, and nipples through the transparent material. "No padding here to fool the eye," noted Aaron as he cut the wispy strap and the cups flew outward, exposing everything. Aaron though about pairing her with Emily Davis. The two could be twins, … blonde, bit-titted twins.

Aaron cut the dress into tatters and looked down with appreciation at Karen's body. "You are a great piece of work, lady," Aaron told the captive woman. "A great piece of meat, that is," he added with a smirk. "Too good for that lousy fuck drug dealer. Too good to be his whore."

The woman had on a black thong panty that had only a small triangle of fully transparent silk over a neatly trimmed matching triangle of blonde pubic hair. The thin strap was wedged between her shaved pussy lips. She was dry, but fear and exertion had built up a sweaty sheen over her lips. Aaron rolled the woman onto her belly and froze as an icy spear struck fear deep into his guts. A lesser man would have pissed himself at the sudden turn of events.

Just above the twenty-four year old's perfect ass gloves and partially hidden by the thongs two-inch waistband, was a lump covered by a flesh-colored square of tape. "Holy fuck! Karen is an undercover snitch." Not yet sure if she was a cop or an unwilling snitch, there was no denying that under the tape was the most compact microphone and transmitter Aaron had ever seen. It was miniaturized and by feel, the panty waistband masked its outline perfectly. "Bet you could have fucked James and he'd never notice this, not with those huge knockers and blonde cunt to distract him," Aaron taunted her as he dangled the device in front of her face. Her facial expression confirmed that she had successfully worn it during sex. "You slut," Aaron responded, close to losing it.

The damning transmitter fell into the water with a faint splash and Aaron desperately hoped that the tape reel at the surveillance station had not captured anything. The boat might have been beyond range before he spoke in its presence. Dangerous or not, Aaron felt he had to get the tape before someone got it and connected her departure to a boat.

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

Aaron once again climbed the sand dune from the beach and returned to the stakeout site. Emily and Karen were secured side-by-side, and still naked, awaiting his return.

This time, Aaron noted that one van was gone. Only three cops were left in the garage, one man and two women. "Musta been a shift change, as I suspected," Aaron muttered to himself. He hesitated to confirm that everything looked calm and orderly. There was no sign of activity at James Sill's home. He turned his attention back inside. The thought of the two beautiful law enforcement agents as slaves made his cock twitch. They were worth three times as much as his other two captives if advertised as ex-police merchandise.

"Girls, be right back," the large male inside announced.

The two girls laughed as he turned to leave and one commented on his small bladder, "Hank, you piss more than my pregnant sister. Your bladder must be the size of a walnut." They laughed again and he cursed something about "stakeouts and bitches. Hank was momentarily backlit by the room's light as he stepped outside and walked toward the van.

Aaron ran across the sand to crouch behind the van. "Jerk didn't even turn off the lights to go outside. Sloppy work, dude," Aaron critiqued the agent's poor technique.

The man jerked his zipper down, fumbled at his belt, and sighed as he started to pee on a rear tire. From under the far side of the vehicle, Aaron aimed the taser and shot the man in the leg. Down he went. Aaron stuck a syringe into his ass through the black nylon battledress, tied him, and gagged him. He palmed the agent's handgun and cursed his poor planning on the night's mission. He left the agent lying in the piss-soaked sand.

At the door, Aaron reloaded the taser. "Shit, I oughta buy stock in this company. I sure use enough of them." He prepared himself mentally and physically to storm the room, taser in one hand and stun gun in the other.

It was incredibly simple to subdue the women. Only one looked up as he opened the door. She took a pair of taser darts in the inside of an upper thigh, a spot certain to not have body armor or a pocket loaded with gear to block the two needle-sharp darts. The second agent turned to look at why her coworker slumped down to the ground when Aaron discharged the stun gun into her side. Almost 625 thousand volts of high frequency energy pulsed deeply through her muscles. The vicious charge depleted her blood sugar, converting it nearly instantly to lactic acid. The neurological impulses also traveled throughout her body, interrupting muscle movement, and causing disorientation and loss of balance.

The attack had been quick and silent. He had two more victims.

After securing his new captives, Aaron stole all the video and audio tapes from the recorders and swept everything into a bag. Every file, notepad, and piece of paper in the room joined the tapes in the bag. He glanced up at the video monitors that were now simply displaying the camera feed without recording it. A woman was walking out onto the gazebo. It appeared she was searching for someone. Aaron yanked the bundle of power cords out, closing down all the equipment and he raced back to the beach. He stopped long enough to throw the bag across the short section of water to the boat deck, and then he was off to the gazebo next door.

Heart thudding in his chest, Aaron knelt down under the gazebo again as the woman approached down the walkway from the estate. "Emily! Emily, where are you," she yelled with evident distress in her voice. "Emily, there's dead people here. I need you Emily!" She shuffled around above him and hesitantly started down the stairs to the beach. "You lousy bitch, where are you hiding? I know you aren't in the house. I got our drugs, come out now and we can leave. Emily!"

It was obvious to Aaron that Emily hid a friend in her tiny car to watch out for her in case something went wrong. The woman thumped down the stairs and sat on the bottom step, high heels buried in the soft sand. Aaron saw her set her purse down beside her and start to paw through it. When she pulled out a cell phone, he fired the taser gun into her back. The two darts sped through the gap in the steps and buried themselves in her back. The phone flew forward to land in the sand.

Aaron had no ropes or anything to bind a last captive with so he improvised. He tore off the woman's silk blouse and spun it quickly into an improvised rope that bound her wrists behind her back. The bra would do as temporary bonds for her feet. Then, limp woman across his back, Aaron grabbed her phone and purse and sprinted back to the boat. Her temporary bonds were quickly exchanged for handcuffs and wrist and ankle bracelets.

Aaron sat down to catch his breath and decided that the evening had gone completely to shit. The shoddy stakeout, the women trying to get drugs, and the undercover agent added up to a truly out of control night. He decided that it couldn't get any worse.

He was still cursing softly as the engines throbbed into life and he pulled away, again.

Minutes later, Aaron was quietly motoring away from the shore. His focus was again on the horizon looking for other surface craft. Aaron was still disgusted with himself for the near fuck up that made him return to the sight of his theft, kidnapping, and murder. With a curse, he throttled up to thirty miles per hour again and headed for the darkness under the nearest highway bridge over the bay. It was about three miles from the beachside villas.

This time, Aaron had five angry women tied on his deck as the boat gently moved with the small swells. Three were naked, and the two policewomen, still fully clothed. Aaron again dumped purses onto the tabletop to see what he caught. Everything went overboard except for the wallets, identification badges, checkbooks, and key rings.

He knelt down beside the first agent and ran his hands down her sides. The woman's wallet and police badge identified her as Helen Powell, a representative from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE). The FDLE agent was twenty-seven, black haired, was 5'6" tall, and weighed 130 pounds. Aaron noted that this was no slender waif below him. Her muscles rippled under her flesh as she grunted and wriggled below him. He jerked up her black T-shirt, revealing a black ballistic vest underneath. Realizing how dangerous she was, he set the stun gun electrodes deep into her ass. The hogtie loosened as she arched up impossibly high and then slumped down unconscious. Aaron had little time. Arm cuffs were released from the hogtie and Aaron struggled with the T-shirt, holster, vest, and bra. Everything was black. Just as she started to stir, Aaron snapped the chain back onto the arm cuffs, again behind her back. Aaron flopped the weakly squirming woman on her back and flicked open a skinning knife, all with one free hand. The prick of cold steel on her bare shoulder instantly stilled the woman.

Aaron leaned down to whisper in Helen Powell's ear, "Helen, this knife is sharp enough to peel your cunt off your body before you feel the pain from the blade. It's only here to strip your clothes off. You better calm down and hold your resistance for later." He unbuckled the girl's belt and unzipped the utility pants. The knife smoothly hissed through the nylon cloth. Two long cuts and the pants opened up like magic, revealing trim muscular legs and sensible black panties. The knife wormed its way under a leg band and Helen stiffened in fear. She knew the knife was only finishing the job of stripping her when she felt the cool ocean breeze wash across her damp pubic hair. Aaron rolled her onto her belly and threw the clothes into a pile. Helen was now naked except for her socks and black boots.

She jerked up in surprise as a loud splat echoed through the cabin. Aaron stared at his handprint on her lily-white ass and said, "Stay, don't move."

Aaron moved to the handrail and while still watching Helen, emptied her pocket and vest contents into the water. Pager, office cell phone, and PDA disappeared into the salty waters. The two women's service revolvers were kept in case they would come in handy later.

Helen's comrade was Regina Tyre, a twenty-six year old brunette that worked in the Miami-Date Bureau of Statewide Prosecution. She was a lawyer and prosecutorial investigator. Like Helen, she was athletic. At 5'5" tall, the brunette weighed slightly less at 125 pounds.

The last purse contents to go overboard belonged to Emily Davis' friend, Pamela Bondi. She was twenty-five, tall and slim at 5'7" and 125 pounds. A brunette, she had B+ tits.

Within minutes a naughty blonde housewife and her brunette friend, a brunette lawyer, a black-haired cop, and a blonde that might be an undercover cop or a druggie snitch were laid out naked, hogtied, and gagged on the boats scratchy indoor / outdoor carpet. Aaron still thought that the two big-titted blondes made a stunning matched set.

Now that Aaron had a chance to think about it, he decided that he would like to have another memento from the evening's work. The 2005 Mercedes SLK 350 Roadster that belonged to the housewife would look great in the warehouse next to Belinda's 2002 Jaguar XKR 450 Grand Prix Convertible. Without another thought about how stupid the act was, he stripped down to running shorts and shoes, and jumped into the shallow water under the bridge. The boat was in a sheltered, well-hidden spot. He bet everything that it would be fine for the next thirty minutes.

He made it to the beach house in eighteen minutes. Within six more minutes, he was pulling the car off a small road leading away from the bridge overpass and down to the water. People used to stop here to fish until the golf course and high-end construction started to take over. The path was still used, but much less often. Aaron was sure that the car would be fine for a few hours until he could figure a way to come get it.

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

Aaron made several trips from the boat to his van; five with naked sweaty fuckmeat on his shoulder and three times with money, drugs, and equipment. "Aaron, you stupid fuck. This better be worth the effort and risk," he muttered. "Five new acquisitions. Shit! Where will I put them?"

Karen Rigden, undercover agent (24, 5'3", blonde, big tits, D+ Cup, 110 lbs)
Emily Davis, ex-trophy Housewife (26, blonde, big tits, D+ Cup)
Trophy Housewife's Friend – Pamela Bondi (25, 5'7", brunette, B+ Cup, trim, 125 lbs)
Helen Powell, FDLE Representative (27, 5'6", 130 lbs, athletic, black hair)
Regina Tyre, State Prosecutor & Lawyer (26, 5'6", 125 lbs, athletic, brunette)

Aaron stripped down to a T-shirt, running shorts, and jogging shoes. He grabbed a small hydration pack and eyed the artwork exposed through the open rear doors of the van. Four tight pussies and assholes winked at him from the bodies tightly strapped down across the folded down rear seats. Emily's friend, Pamela Bondi wouldn't fit across the width of the van, so she was wedged between a set of seats further forward in the van. The pussy art was too much temptation. Aaron walked around to the van's open side door, grabbed something from this kit bag, and returned to the van's rear.

Aaron set everything else on the ground and uncapped the tube of sex lubricant. One by one, he simply jammed the tube's short nozzle into a cunt or ass and squeezed a cold glob of lube inside. Eight holes later, the tube was nearly empty and he threw it into the van's interior. Keeping the diminishing time factor in mind, the first thing to penetrate each delectable ass was a syringe of strong sedative. It would start to take effect as he left in the boat.

Aaron aligned his big knob on a tight-looking blonde pussy and lunged forward as hard as he could. Even with the gag, he heard a grunt echo from the throat of either Emily or Karen; he didn't care which. After five or six hard strokes as deep into the exposed cunt as he could go, he pulled out and lined up on the next cunt in line. It was also blonde, with shaved lips. "Well Emily or Karen, you are truly twins now if my dick can't tell the difference from this end."

Again his plum-sized cockhead was set between a set of pussy lips, this time he slowly sank balls deep in one steady downward fuck. No grunt came from this girl, only a faint wail of dismay at her rape and predicament. His now lube-coated balls thunked solidly against her sparsely forested pubic mount for about ten strokes.

Even in the dark, Aaron recognized Helen's black thicket of pubic hair. "Time for a little variety. I've never had cop ass or cunt before. Eenee, meenee, miney, mo, ..." His dick aligned cunt, ass, cunt, and ass as he chanted the old rhyme. "Guess that's it, then," he said and sunk three inches deep into a hot, tight rectum. Helen's head flopped up and her long black tresses exploded across her naked shoulders. By the time her head sunk down in defeat, he was all the way up her ass. Without pause to let her get used to the log up her intestines, Aaron set up a fast fucking pattern.

Helen felt the man's bloated balls striking her lower pussy lips. She liked anal sex with her boyfriend, but only after lots of clitoral and vaginal stimulation. She preferred a lover's fingers in her cunt fucking vigorously while his cock gently moved, partially buried in her ass. She could normally touch her clit and come like a firecracker. This was different. The fuck was sudden and brutal. Helen missed the extended foreplay before her boyfriend moved toward anal sex; he usually spurted after a few strokes and only two-three inches deep in her sensitive ass.

The nine-inch log up her ass took her breath away. Two hands mauled her naked tits and he fucked her slick ass like a machine. "If only his balls hit lower," she thought and then realized with horror that she was twitching her ass back for some vaginal stimulation. "You cock-hungry whore," she cried to herself in shame as all thoughts of lust vanished. Then his dick was gone and she felt the cool ocean air drift into her hot, distended rectum. Even with the resulting intestinal cramping spasms, her ass remained open to the night for long seconds before the anal ring slowly regained its elasticity and it winked shut.

The muscular ass of the brunette beckoned him next. By this time, Regina knew he was raping each of the girls and she was last in line. She involuntarily tensed as his cockhead nestled around for her pussy. Her breath uumphed out of her lungs as 205 pounds fell onto her back and the largest dick she ever felt buried itself up to her cervix. Cunning and resourceful, Regina decided to act the total slut in the slight hope of taking advantage later on. Her hips wriggled and she moaned in imitation of lust as Aaron plunged into her pussy. The responsiveness of the captive engaged his attention for too long, his lunging thrusts became desperate and he finally fell back, squeezed his eager to spurt dick, and tried to regain his breath.

When Regina heard him say, "Regina, you are a hot fuck;" she knew that she was succeeding. The grunts from her two disgusted law enforcement friends, Karen and Helen, made her ashamed, but she knew that explanations could come later. Regina was sure her cunt had milked him soft. Her few sexual partners all marveled at her strong internal musculature that squeezed and emptied cock jism in record time. Then his cock nestled against her virgin anal ring. "Hmmph, hmphh, unghh," she tried to protest and move her sloppy pussy up to meet his cock.

His cock's bloated head was way out of reach of the clasping pussy ring and it tried in vain to protect the glistening grommet of her ass. The wriggling against his cock head encouraged more blood to flow into his dick and with her frantic movement sunk it into her resisting ass. It swelled up from the stimulation and stuck in place.

Helen and Karen heard the squeals and grunts of their former colleague as she eagerly fucked back at their captor. Each thought, "What a slut," to themselves as the squeals suddenly intensified. They mistook her desperate attempt to slide his cock back to her pussy as increased lust, and possible climax.

Instead, Aaron corkscrewed his throbbing cock another inch into the wildly gyrating ass below. He knew full well the woman wanted him to use her cunt instead of her ass. Still mistaking her earlier ardor as genuine, he reveled in the thought of forcing the horny slut to take it up the ass. He leaned onto his stiff stick and sunk another two inches in. Suddenly, her muscles relaxed for just a moment, and he was balls deep, nine solid inches in her buttery depths.

Regina cried in failure and the shame of knowing her friends felt her a wanton whore for giving in and not fighting. Regina relaxed in defeat and resolved herself to using what weapons she had. If her tongue wasn't squashed into place by the awful gag, the sudden entry of all his thick cock pushed by his 205-pound weight might have made her swallow her tongue in shock. She was skewered like a pig on a spit and was stunned nervelessly for nearly a minute before she steeled herself to fuck back. "I'll get this bastard to spurt off. I'll be the best fucktoy this pervert ever saw," she promised. "Then, I'll cut off your dick and display it for a trophy," she amended her promise just as her intestines cramped in protest against the increasing pace of the long cock in her rectum.

Aaron watched in disbelief as the soft and no longer resisting butt that he buried himself in started to twitch and slowly wriggle before it actually began to fuck back with increasing intensity. He set a slow and gentile fucking pace in counterpoint to her desperate moves and this allowed him to reach down to caress, pull, pinch, and manipulate her cunt, labia, and clit.

Regina felt his fingers on her cunt and sudden warmth flooded her loins as her brain sent extra blood to the region and dumped her own sexual lubricant into her cunt, all because of his touch. Pain, humiliation, and sheer determination was now fueled by increasing lust. She felt no added shame in her ability to climax herself while enslaving her captor. Her moans and grunts became rhythmic as she approached her first climax of the night.

Aaron heard the shift in the cunt's muffled voice to a cadence that matched his own fucking pace and he grinned at the victory. He survived the first round of rippling spasms that wracked her belly. Aaron never slowed, and in fact began to pick up the pace as the spasms went on and on. Their sweaty and greasy bodies set up a blurring tempo accented by the slap of a belly on a back, groin on ass, and balls on pussy. His fingers sped across the cunt, making sloppy, juicy sounds that added to the symphony of their sex.

The remaining trembling girls were of mixed thoughts. Each gave thanks to Regina that their captor was preoccupied with another woman's cunt or ass, but they were universally disgusted that the fourth woman acted like a bitch in heat. She was obviously enjoying the sex.

Aaron locked the van door and reviewed the contents mentally to be sure nothing inside was linked to him or the warehouse. He wore gloves, so there were no prints. The full condom was in his backpack so the only DNA evidence might be buried in the van's clean carpet. He had carefully wiped the glistening rumps with baby wipes which were also in a baggie in his backpack alongside the condom.

He headed back to his boat and then his short journey north to the marina. The boat keys would go into a lockbox on the pier and he would start his three-mile job back to the van.

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

He toggled the pack's flashing reflector to the on position and shrugged on the small backpack. As he started his long jog back to his van from the marina, reflecting strips on his ankles and elbows identified him as a serious runner. The slowly flashing red light on his backpack gently bobbled up and down as he set a smooth pace through the dark night and back toward his van. He was ready to get back to the warehouse and some cold beers. Thoughts of a Pacifico flowing ice-cold down his throat spurred his pace. "Yes," Aaron thought, "a Pacifico would top off the day; cause then it would be well worth fucking living."

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 20 – Debriefings (or My, They're Cooperative)

The warehouse door clanged shut and the sound echoed through the dark interior. Aaron had a dripping, icy-cold Pacifico in his hand almost before the echo faded and silence descended on the warehouse.

Aaron had parked right next to the slaves' training area. With no cages available, Aaron had to consider some other options. The best idea was to begin processing immediately and then do some rearranging. Some of the women could be caged temporally in the high-security cages intended for storing weapons, money, drugs, and equipment. The problem with those cages is that no toilets or water was available. Women stashed there would have a ruder introduction to slavery than the other slaves.

Current stock:

Cage Number/Name Age/Hair Color Status
1-Wanda Alvernon 22-brunette caged and in training
1-Katria Sjogreen 26-blonde caged, in training
2-Ingrid Gaviard 36-black hair caged, temp assigned as assistant trainer
3-Sandy Hamilton 26-blonde caged, in training
4-Barbara Michaels 19-blonde caged, virgin, not started training
5-Belinda Maticevski 46-blonde caged, fulltime laundry cunt
Connie Baxter 32-blonde free – B.V.I.
Sophia Lenz 22-blonde free – freelance summer hooking in B.V.I.
Rochelle Grosso 22-brunette free – freelance summer hooking in B.V.I.
Puppy 27-hairless pug Slave Mistress and Chief Trainer

New acquisitions:

Karen Rigden, undercover agent (24, 5'3", blonde, big tits, D+ Cup, 110 lbs)
Emily Davis, trophy Housewife (26, blonde, big tits, D+ Cup)
Trophy Housewife's Friend – Pamela Bondi (25, 5'7", brunette, B+ Cup, trim, 125 lbs)
Helen Powell, FDLE Representative (27, 5'6", 130 lbs, athletic, black hair, likes anal)
Regina Tyre, State Prosecutor & Lawyer (26, 5'6", 125 lbs, athletic, brunette, great fuck)

The two blondes were tied over vaulting horses on Training Pad E and the two law enforcement women were hung from the punishment cage on Training Pad H. Emily's friend Pamela was simply chained spread eagle on a pad. Aaron had just finished coding and installing training collars for each of the five women. He walked away to get a few hours sleep with Puppy after turning on the collars.

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

Puppy wandered across the silent warehouse floor, naked. She woke up and discovered that her lover and owner was missing. Too early for a normal day to begin, she came searching for him and knelt down beside him as he sat bemusedly trying to figure out where to start. Silently, as Doctor Kay forever doomed the disfigured woman, Puppy drew down his shorts and sucked his limp cock into her toothless mouth. Her tongue stud, soft manmade gums, and talented tongue brought him to life. In full sight of all five captive women, she pulled him down to the mattress and straddled his waist. Her exotically tattooed body and enormous breasts made her look like a sex goddess come to life from myth. Completely hairless, pug nose, and dog fur tattoos on every inch of her body, she looked like a cross between a human and dog; albeit 100 percent female.

Puppy loved Aaron Clarke, she loved his cock, and would do anything to please her rescuer and owner.

The bug-eyed women saw the shameless bitch-dog mount their captor and watched as she yanked up the big cock and sunk down, giant breasts swaying as she corkscrewed her way down the big stick. Her hips started speeding up to massage and yank at his cock. Aaron lay limply, arms outstretched, enjoying the fuck as the marvelous muscles of his favorite slave yanked and squeezed every inch of his fuckmeat. Even the talented muscle control of Regina Tyre failed to surpass Puppy's skills.

All five women instantly hated and feared this unworldly looking creature with such sexual control of their captor.

When Puppy rolled off the exhausted slaver, the women saw pearly drops of jism glistening on her grossly distended pussy lips. Each echoed the same thought, "Damn, that's a big cock. We'll be ruined for life after too much of that."

The women saw the creature leave and their silent captor sat back down in his chair to observe their nakedly displayed forms. Each was silent, the women because their collars had already ensured through a painful series of shocks that silence was mandatory.

All too soon, Puppy returned with two women in front of her. Puppy and the black-haired woman were now dressed identically in black; heels, fishnet hose, short leather skirt, leather bustier, and dog-training collars the same as every woman seemed to have in this place.

The third woman was different. She walked as though tired and completely cowed. She was naked save for the collar and a bondage belt around her waist that locked her elbows tightly to her sides.

The slim and beautiful black-haired woman simply said, "Cunt! Get to the blondes." Life and purpose seemed to flow into the defeated woman and she ran, huge tits flopping to the exposed asses of Emily and Karen. Cunt now sported a set of E+ breasts that likely were larger than Puppy's mammoth tits. The surgeon (Doctor Joan Miller) that Aaron met at the B&D club in Miami was only too happy to enhance the submissive slut.

Regina and Helen winched at this eager display to please, never realizing that to the woman known as Cunt, a formerly independent businesswoman, the task of tonguing, licking, and sucking orgasms from a fellow slave was far preferable to the alternatives that she knew so well. Slurping and sucking sounds filled the otherwise silent warehouse.

Ingrid returned to silence and stood expectantly waiting for word from either her Master or Mistress. Puppy walked up behind her and suckled on the sensitive skin of her neck before pushing her toward the two dangling women, Regina and Helen.

Moments ago, Puppy gave Ingrid her instructions. Ingrid was to do the rough punishing introductory session with these two slaves, a process normally done by Aaron. Ingrid repositioned the women face to face, each with arms and legs outstretched and touching the other woman. She wrapped a small chain around each girl's neck and drew it tight, forcing then cheek to cheek. Double nipple clamp sets with cruel teeth secured the girls nipple to nipple. Similar sets of jawed clamps with one inch of chain between jaws joined the now distended labia and clits to those of their former partners. Finally, the big toes and thumbs of each girl were trapped against their mirror twin with four sets of thumb cuffs.

Following her orchestrated instructions, Ingrid hugged and caressed each girl from behind and said, "Your collars will be turned off for this session only so that I can hear your screams of agony. If any other sound reaches my ears, then you will finish the session with the collars turned on. Any reward earned by one is shared equally by the other. Any failure or disobedience by one results in equal punishment. Regina and Helen, you are now only worthless cunt meat. Only as a pair, a trained set, will you hope to escape painful torment. If you want to live, … the choice is simple, … obey and obey eagerly." Ingrid reached between the two, grabbed a pair of nipples in each hand, and admonished, "Look at the Cunt eating the blonde sluts. Look!" with that, she twisted all four nipples as hard as she could, eliciting twin howls of pain from the two women. "Her lot is never better than this. Eating cunt and sucking ass will be the high-point of her day. Fail and you get this, or worse."

With that, she stepped back and viciously administered five blows from a riding crop to each exposed ass cheek. Each rapid stroke was met with shrieks, cries, wails, howls, or tears. The blows echoed painfully from one girl to the other. Each thrashing movement tugged sensitive flesh of the other, intensifying the pain in nipples and cunt.

Ingrid moved her expert blows to the swollen sides of the four breasts tightly packed against each other in an effort to protect their already tortured nipples. Ingrid was expert at crop, paddle, whip, and strop thanks to the diligent, and forced, training methods used by Puppy. Ingrid was punished in private for each sub-perfect blow struck during a training day. Until she improved, Ingrid often received more punishment than she dished out. These were the harsh rules Aaron and Puppy imposed upon Ingrid if she wished to retain her privileged status.

Ingrid next rolled a small table beside the sobbing women. Every inch of exposed skin that a crop could strike, from their ears down, was swollen and marked from the hundreds of swats made. Each girl even had marks covering her exposed cheeks, neck, and forehead. Ingrid was an artist at this.

Two buckets held two dildos each. Ingrid never hesitated in her insidious task as she drew on latex gloves and picked up a tube of muscle relaxing cream. The highly aromatic liniment was spread thickly on the two largest dildos and then they were replaced in the bucket. Thick, goopy Thai chili paste was spread across the six-inch length of each slimmer dildo.

Ingrid looked at Belinda bringing one of the blonde bitches to another orgasm and called, "Cunt, come here."

Belinda scampered over with apparent excitement and Ingrid whispered instructions into her ear. Both Ingrid and Belinda had once experienced the effect from the liniment and chili sauce. Neither hesitated with the next step; each fully realized that failure to perform satisfactorily meant facing the same punishment themselves.

At the end of Ingrid's chanted, "One, … Two, … Three," each shoved a dildo into a cunt and an asshole. Liniment-covered nine-inch cocks fit into cunts and chili paste-covered six-inch cocks went into asses.

Unearthly howls of pain reverberated through the warehouse as both Helen and Regina began to scream themselves voiceless. After two hours, each slipped into blissful darkness as they escaped the pain by the only avenue left, merciful unconsciousness.

Prior to passing out, neither Helen nor Regina noticed the equally loud shrieks from Emily and Karen as their own orifices burned as if glowing steel poles were disemboweling them. Every slave in the warehouse shivered at the shrieking and each privately renewed their vows of absolute obedience to their Master and two Mistresses.

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

Pamela Bondi was not left out of a punishment introduction. She lay in fear, naked belly up and helpless on the mat, while the howls of pain surrounded her. The two women chained face to face wriggled like worms on a hook when the monstrous dildos were thrust into their innards. Her friend and another blonde bound across the leather vaulting horses joined in the chorus of agony. They were unable to move much beyond their hands and feet that grasped at the air as if to escape the torment. The naked one named Cunt and the black-haired Mistress approached her and each grabbed an ankle. She whimpered at the thought of her beating to follow. Instead, she saw her feet raised up in the air and folded back toward her head. The girls tied ropes around her knees and secured the ends to her collar. Pamela felt herself open and widespread to the view of these strangers. Her brown patch of unruly pubic hair was exposed to public view.

Ingrid disdainfully tugged on a tuft of curly pubic hair and said, "Cunt, fetch a bowl of warm water and shaving equipment. This forest has to go now."

Pamela was nearly in shock. Here four tortured women howling out in distress surrounded her and this woman was complaining about her pubic hair. If not for the collar, and her nearly crushed diaphragm, she would have told this bitch a thing or two. Pamela was spoiled, just as her more beautiful friend Emily was. Both women had fallen far in just a few hours. Emily already knew this and Pamela was soon to find out for herself.

Ingrid started with a small pair of grooming scissors. She snipped and tugged off tuft after tuft of the long coarse hair until only thin stubble remained. Next, she squeezed out the excess hot water from a steaming towel and folded it across the mass of remaining hair on Pamela's mound. She thought the woman must never wear a bikini because the forest extended up toward her belly button. "At least the bitch has shaved legs," Ingrid thought to herself. She pulled the towel off and spread thick, green shaving gel from below the woman's asshole up to her belly button.

Pamela was humiliated. She had never been exposed like this and now the woman was drawing a razor across her pubic area. Everything burned slightly from the cutting blade, only somewhat soothed by the shaving gel. The burning sensation brought heat into her loins and she blushed in realization that the feeling was becoming pleasant. In fact, the extra blood flow and the dance of fingers and blade across her sensitive skin felt really nice. She tried to wriggle a little in response. The only result is that her cunt lips twitched and winked up into the air.

Ingrid saw the woman's responsiveness and noted it for passing on to her Master and Mistress later. For now, she sent her slippery fingers on her left hand sliding around the woman's twitching cunt lips, adding more stimulation than needed in order to get the shaving accomplished. She saw with some satisfaction that the woman had a soft orgasm from the stimulation. Ingrid gently wiped off the residual cream and stubble. A few small spots remained near the woman's ass and between her widespread cheeks. They were quickly dealt with.

Cunt knelt passively by as her Mistress shaved the new cunt bald. She took some pleasure in inflicting pain and humiliation upon others. Given her luckless situation, she pretended that the others were actually lower on the pecking order then she. Cunt shivered as the long-term reality of her situation overcame any temporary daydreams of conquest. There was no doubt who was the lowest cunt in the warehouse. She stood silently as Ingrid motioned her to rise so that a series of straps could be wrapped and tightened around her waist and groin. She felt a twinge of discomfort as something went into her cunt and heard a loud click. Looking down, Cunt saw that Ingrid had attached a threateningly large penis to her groin. A pearly drop of something glistened on the realistic appearing tip of the cock. Ingrid leaned over to whisper in her ear and a bulb was set into her hand.

Cunt felt a wave of heat flow through her as Ingrid spoke. What she asked her to do was so depraved and awful that instant arousal swept through her. She fell to her knees facing the helpless woman and waddled up toward the recently denuded cunt and ass. Cunt's fingers wriggled about and she tried to think how to accomplish her task without arms. Cunt's elbows were tightly locked to her waist. She couldn't lean forward and support herself on extended arms. Instead, she wriggled her hips about until the massive cockhead aligned with the cunt before her; the head barely able to nestle into place between the folds of labia. With no other solution in mind, she simply fell forward across the folded woman's body and buried half the cock in one stroke.

Pamela saw the woman approach with the massive upthrust cock and fall heavily to her knees, gigantic breasts bobbled up and down from the fall. She whimpered again as she realized that a woman was going to fuck her with the largest dick she had ever seen. It was far longer and thicker than her husbands five-inch cock. She thought that the cock was nearly a replica of the man who captured them the night before. She laid in the van and heard the sounds of sex and quiet complaints from the four women as he fucked each. Pamela remembered that one woman eagerly embraced her rape and made more muffled noises of encouragement than she used with her own husband. "One of them is a real slut," she thought. Then the cock bumped against her cunt and the memory fled with the reality of her own situation. Suddenly two giant orbs of flesh hit her face and the cock speared deep into her pussy. She had time to note the strange rigidity of the stretched titty flesh that threatened to suffocate her before the sweaty body above her started to wriggle the rigid pole deeper into her guts. One of the girl's hands painfully squeezed her right breast as the awkwardly thrusting woman regained her balance and smoothly began to fuck. Even without foreplay, Pamela was moistened and nearly ready for sex by the atmosphere of pain and humiliation that surrounded her. Unconsciously, her hips swiveled to allow the cock less painful access to her depths. The release of painful pressure allowed the pleasure from the wide girth of the cock to sink in. "You slut, Pamela," she thought, "You actually like this." Her cunt eagerly swallowed the giant dick and her hips tried to increase the pressure against her clit. "Ahhh, yesss," she moaned to herself. Collar still on, she dared not make a sound as the fucking escalated.

Just as the woman below her relaxed from her orgasm, Belinda (Cunt) squeezed the bulb in her right hand. Thick goopy cream flowed through a thin tube running to the fake balls at the base of the monster cock. Cunt had just pumped the burning liniment into the bitches vagina through the pisshole at the end of the fake dick. She ground the mammoth cock around, coating every surface with the painful cream while the stubby end in her own cunt swirled around and around. As she came herself, she couldn't help but squeeze the bulb again and again despite Mistresses admonition against it. Suddenly, her own cunt exploded with pain. It felt as if a bucket of live coals were trapped inside her. She had flooded her own cunt with the liniment.

Aaron watched the final drama unfold before him as the Laundry Cunt vigorously fucked the bound woman. He knew she couldn't resist pumping extra cream into Pamela. When the diverter valve in the cock switched to the stubby cock in Cunt's pussy, the result was electrifying. She fell backward out of Pamela's punished cunt and rolled around on the floor trying in vain to pull the cock out of her own pussy. Her elbows were too tightly bound high on her waist for her hands to help and she flopped and rolled, unable to alleviate the pain and unable to shriek because of her dog-training collar.

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

Karen Rigdon, the former undercover agent was the first to confess her sins. She was so eager to avoid the punishing dildos that any question was answered fully and without thought of evasion. She knelt on a soft mattress, her cunt and ass oozing the soothing cream that Ingrid just pumped in. A recorder and microphone were on a stool before her. She started to speak:

"My name is Karen Rigdon, I am, … was an agent of the United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement Office. I am twenty-four and a volunteer undercover agent. My mission was to ingratiate myself with James Lee and gather evidence against his criminal enterprise. I, …" and she continued to speak. Additional questions and cues were silently slid in front of her so that she could continue her debriefing uninterrupted.

Each of the five was debriefing in a similar manner. The sessions extended well into the early afternoon.

Aaron sat considering his options and the possible opportunities. Bone weary from the last twenty-four hours, he knew this was no time for a major decision. But, he made decisive plans anyway. Aaron got out his piercing kit and went to work on the two law enforcement agents.

Thirty minutes later, Aaron sat in his reclining chair between the two pain wracked agents. Each had their bleeding, just-pierced tongues clipped to a line tautly leading overhead. Their arms were cuffed behind their backs and they stood on tiptoe, partially because of the tongue lines. Heavy fishing line ended in large barbless hooks brutally tugged each of the four nipples harshly away from their chests. Each had their own law enforcement badge ringed above their pussies with new piercing rings.

A set of fishhooks in each labia distended the pussy lips open by the lines terminated with wraps around their feet. The two were weeping and in obvious pain.

Puppy raised up from the video viewfinder and signaled her readiness to Aaron.

Aaron nodded and sat still a moment to collect his thoughts before the video began. He wore his black covert operations clothing and a matching black hood covered his head.

Mr. Lynden," Aaron began, "I am about to become your best friend. These naked cunts beside me were law enforcement agents at the stakeout near your associate's home this morning. I'm sure you've seen the news bulletins regarding his murder and the arrest of his bodyguards."

At this point, Puppy shifted the camera to the tear-streaked faces, the bleeding tortured tongues, the painfully distended breasts, and the punished pussies. She then tightly zoomed in on the two badges. Aaron's voice continued throughout the video scenes depicting the tortured women.

"… and that's how I managed to capture these two bitches, just as their partners drove away, leaving them to clean up the mess at James' home. So, for one million cash, you can have these two cunts who will eagerly sell out their comrades, their organization, and tell you every known fact about your drug trafficking organization. Plus, you get their weapons and a bagful of tapes and evidence that will never get to the authorities. You can probably make a profit selling the women to your South American contacts. They would like to know some tricks to protect their businesses while torturing some police cunt."

Aaron and Puppy continued filming for a few more minutes. He prepared a syringe of sedative for Helen and palmed one of her aching tits as he stuck her in the ass with the drug. Using scissors, he cut the titty lines and the tongue lead before laying the woman gently to the mat.

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

Aaron walked out of the courier services office and approached a pay phone. "Hello, I'm calling about your unfortunate acquaintance, James. You will receive a courier package in less than an hour. Play the video in private and I'll call you." Aaron hung up before Oscar Lynden could speak. He would be getting Puppy's tape and one of the police surveillance tapes in an hour or so.

Aaron had one more stop to make before he turned the poor women over to the vengeful drug dealer. Aaron reached over to Puppy's leg and caressed it through the long summer dress that she wore. Puppy had on her cross-trainer shoes, an ankle-length summer dress, a shawl, and a veil stood handy to cover her head later on. She grinned in excitement and from the trust Master had endowed in her. Puppy was key to Aaron's plan and his very survival. The two miserable women rested quietly in the back of the van.

Aaron made his final stop before driving over to the marina to pick up his boat for the second of three rental days. The boat rental agent thought Aaron enjoyed evening cruises to escape the summer heat while having a little romance. Aaron encouraged this misunderstanding.

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

It was now well past dark and Aaron stood behind Puppy on the rocking boat as she reviewed each control one more time and practiced handling the boat in turns and backup maneuvers. Puppy had already operated the boat for an hour or so as she drove it from the bridge site where the Mercedes was parked all the way back to the marina. She was able to maintain visual contact with Aaron as he drove the convertible south to the marina where he got back on the boat. Aaron's new car was one-step closer to his warehouse. Puppy's newfound boat skills would be crucial that night if sometime went wrong; she would be the getaway driver.

At ten o'clock, Aaron called Oscar again, "Yo, it's your new friend." He went silent and awaited Oscar's reply.

"I want them. I want the stuff, too. The money is no problem; I got it here with me now. That's all we can say till we meet."

Aaron spoke back into the phone, "Meet me alone on the middle of your dock in ten minutes, the money should be in a soft bag. Your men stay on land, mine stay in my boat. It's a simple exchange. My pets become yours and you pay the delivery fee. Enjoy training the two dogs, they are both real bitches."

At the dock, he tied a light line to a cleat on the dock and nodded to Puppy. The boat's throbbing engines idled throatily. She was ready to floor the throttle in reverse at Aaron's signal.

The hobbled and collared girls were swung one by one from the stern to the dock and then slowly led by their leashes toward the middle of the pier.

Splinters on the dock tore into the girl's tender feet almost unnoticed by the silently sobbing women. They knew that they were fucked. Each beautiful woman looked brainless and whorish from the large ring through each tongue, and the attached leash keeping them from closing their mouths. Each of the four titties still sported a large barbless fishhook with a foot of dangling line. The lines from the labia hooks were still anchored to their feet; even the baby-steps due to the restricting hobbles painfully distended the tender flesh. The dog-training collars were still locked on each lovely neck.

Regina Tyre (the twenty-six year old brunette former lawyer and worker for the Miami Bureau of Statewide Prosecution) and Helen Powell (the twenty-seven year old black-haired former policemen and member of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement) watched in miserable silence as a tall, intensely angry-looking man left his armed associates and approached the trio. They each knew who this man was, even though no evidence directly linked him to any specific crime.

Oscar Lynden threw down a heavy duffle bag and appraised the women. Aaron silently passed over their leashes and said, "Bitches, heel!" Without regard for their punished tongue, tits, or cunts, each knelt down and placed a cheek on Oscar's feet. Their cunts stuck straight up into the air.

Aaron dropped his own smaller bag and spoke, "Mr. Lynden, here is the evidence as promised. You will find a preliminary list of informants already run against your organization by the authorities. These two cunts will fully cooperate with you. They are already pretty well-trained after just a few hours."

Oscar nodded and smiled grimly, "You think they have linked me to James Lee?"

"James got caught by this dick. He was trading sex for discounted cocaine and one of his bitches rolled over on him. Hence the taskforce. They know about you, but lacked evidence to get warrants. Now with James dead and these two missing, the shit will hit the fan," Aaron replied. "Also, the dirty agents that killed and robbed James are still at large, probably considered heroes by the police. I think you need to lay low for a few weeks and let your lawyer handle things. It will soon blow over with no evidence against you."

Oscar grinned and replied, "Yeah, they'll be upset about James dying and these whores missing. I have just the place to question these two and play a little."

"Get everything out of them first though," Aaron cautioned, "and don't go someplace that too many of your lieutenants or guards know about, at least until you deal with all the informants. That should be your first priority."

Aaron forced himself to shake hands with the scummy drug kingpin and walked away, money in hand. He last saw the two women still kneeling on the dock, crying and filthy from their ordeal. Aaron thought sadly about how much worse it would get for them.

Puppy gunned the motorboat in reverse the second Aaron dropped heavily to the deck. Without looking up at Puppy, he quickly dumped the money on the deck and rummaged through it for any electronics or explosives. With obvious relief on his face, he looked up at Puppy and said, "Got it girl! The game is on." The bundles of money were left, flapping in the salty breeze as Aaron stood behind his pet and hugged her.

Puppy was thrilled to be out in the open and able to help her beloved master. Escape to any chance of a normal life was impossible. Instead, her devotion and love for him grew stronger with each training session and experience. Her awkward hands managed the wheel as Aaron increased the throttle and returned his hands to her hips. She felt his teeth nip below her soft, floppy ears and his whispered, "Good job, Puppy. I love you so much." Her heart skipped a beat and then despite the cool air, felt her body flush from the top of her head to her toeless feet. Aaron's hands started to unbutton her dress from its low neck all the way down. The wind drew the dress open to flap in the wind around Aaron's form as he opened the front-closure bra and her breasts burst free. Only Puppy's lacy panties now concealed any of her lush body's charms. She tingled with increasing eagerness as her breasts were tightly squeezed and her fleshy tit meat squished through his widespread fingers. "More than a handful, Master," she dreamily thought to herself as her knees almost buckled. She still craved his affection, much like her namesake, a puppy. She felt her ankle-length skirt billow up above her ass and an erect cock brush between her butt cheeks. Aaron flexed his knees up and his thick bar of a cock nestled between her legs and lifted her up. His voice commanded into her ear, "Brace your elbows on the wheel, Puppy and steer the best you can."

With that command, her ass was pulled up and away, throwing most of her weight forward onto the steering wheel. The boat veered wildly for a moment as she fought to regain control of the speeding boat. While she was preoccupied, Aaron quickly yanked the crotch panel of her panties aside and readied himself to drill into the exposed pussy.

Her chin shot into the air and she silently shrieked with a combination of lust and pain as Aaron plunged her belly down onto his upthrust cock, nearly burying it in one brutal thrust. She loved it. The boat swerved wildly through the dark bay as her legs hung limply, ass fully supported by his hands as they fucked her body up and down atop his incredible fuck pole.

Aaron used Puppy's tight pussy as if it was mounted on a sextoy, paying no heed to her pleasure. Instead, Aaron visualized the two miserable policewomen's plight as he plundered the velvety pussy that tightly clasped his cock as his hands drove her hips up and down.

The engines slowed and the boat settled into a smooth track. Puppy gloried in the feel of the air across her now fully exposed body and the sticky jism that dripped down the inside of her thighs. She grinned knowing that nobody else got her Master's sperm in the ass or cunt.

She tilted her head back and guzzled from the offered bottle of ice-cold Pacifico Beer. His voice again muttered in her ear, "Never forget, Puppy, that we can make life worth living. This is what it's about." He left her to continue piloting as he replaced the one million dollars in bills back into the drug dealer's bag.

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

Puppy was once again fully dressed as they lounged on chairs in the boat's cockpit. They were bobbing at anchor, just offshore, under the bridge to Key Biscayne. Aaron was intently studying a laptop computer display. The screen showed a digital map of Miami with a series of red and blue dots that formed a trail leading north from Key Biscayne. Every five minutes a digital signal was received and plotted; the signals alternated between Regina and Helen. The screen depicted the exact location of the two women in the merciless hands of Oscar Lynden.

Aaron's last stop of the day before going to the marina had been at the offices of Doctor Joan Miller. The thirty-eight year old surgeon was only too happy to help the man she knew as Robert Morgan. The kinky doctor doubled as the staff doctor for a local B&D club. She eagerly helped in subjugating subs to their Master's demands. Aaron gave the doctor two small GPS transmitters programmed, on five-minute offsets, to send a silent, digital position signal out each ten minutes. The doctor crouched in the back of the van and ratcheted each of their cunts open to huge caverns using gynecological speculums. She then dilated each woman's cervix and punched a hole through the tough ring of muscle that kept it closed. A small gold ring was threaded through the hole and crimped shut. The tiny GPS units were then painfully jammed into the open cervixes and anchored in place with the ring. The units were not likely to be discovered, as the girl's collars were also transceivers that constantly 'shook' hands with their control unit. Oscar's electronics gurus could sweep the women for signals and easily confirm the controller was a standard dog-training unit. Aaron hoped the drug kingpin would quickly relocate to safety. He was right.

The row of blinking dots formed a perfect trail indicating from Regina's red dots and Helen's blue dots that the two women were together and moving southbound down Highway 1 toward Key West. The plot clearly showed the women crossed overhead on the bridge leading to the mainland from Key Biscayne.

Aaron told Puppy to head south, paralleling the coastline. The night was clear and moonlit; so the boat easily cruised up to forty-five miles per hour, slicing through the gentle swells in the sheltered waterway.

About an hour later, Aaron confirmed that the vehicles containing the women turned south toward Pennekamp Coral Reef and the Florida Keys. Aaron told Puppy to stay on the Florida Bay side of the island chain and head toward Key Largo.

The twenty-eight foot powerboat again bobbed gently just offshore, this time offshore from a small community of homes located between Key Largo and Taveniek. The GPS locator indicated that the women were in a new-looking beach home just an eighth of a mile away.

Aaron briefed Puppy to remain with the boat and await his flashlight signal from shore. The boat idled softly up near the shore and Aaron jumped out with a duffle bag across his shoulder. He landed in waist-deep water and signaled Puppy away. Without a backward glance, he waddled ashore through the one-foot surf.

The home was in a modest neighborhood and not likely to draw attention as the retreat for rich drug dealers. Many of the windows were lit, but drapes blocked any view of the interior from spying eyes. Aaron's greatest fear was that neighbors would have dogs that noticed his presence. In that case, he had already decided the women were on their own despite his intent to rescue them.

There was no garage, only a carport holding a large, black SUV. The home was above, raised on timber columns and safe from surges of water stirred up by tropical storms. Seeing only the one vehicle, Aaron thought, "Perhaps Oscar only has a bodyguard or two with the women."

Aaron circled the home, staying hidden in the foundation bushes outside the columns. He could hear male laughter from above, but nothing outside in the immediate vicinity of the house. He crept back to the rear and glided up the steps to the deck above. Sliding doors accessed the master suite and a dining area, each with ocean views during the daytime. The rooms were silent within. The deck door to the bedroom was unlocked. Aaron knelt down and duck-walked into the pitch-black room. It was empty of life. Several large, bulging duffle bags were stacked by the master bed.

Aaron considered the large bags and smirked as he doubted that they were full of clothing. He was congratulating himself on a good plan. His inattentive daydreaming was shattered by the sound of water from the master bathroom.

"Shit! Wake up you stupid fuck," Aaron ranted at himself. "Focus, Marine. This is enemy territory and there is no back up." He moved toward the partially open door and saw a woman admiring herself in the mirror. Water cascaded in the shower stall behind her.

The black-haired woman was stunning. Her long legs ended in one of the more spectacular asses Aaron had ever seen. The woman put a hand on one hip and twisted her skimpy thong-covered cunt away from his view. She was admiring her own ass. Her red bra hung uselessly off her shoulders; the center clasp already undone. She twisted back, full-face to the mirror, cupped her tits up, nipples erect and pointed toward her own face. Steam from the shower billowed over the shower door and began to fog the mirror. She dropped her red bra and moved toward her open balcony door. Obviously an exhibitionist, she pirouetted twice, perfect tits exposed to the Florida night and then stalked back into the steamy bathroom.

Later, Aaron would discover that her name was June Curl, Oscar's twenty-five year-old girlfriend. Too pretty to focus on her college studies, she became a party girl and met Oscar through her cocaine connections. She had moved in with Oscar over a year ago and the two were inseparable.

She finally noticed Aaron's shadow and turned. Her left nipple sprouted a dart and its twin anchored itself in the side of her right breast. She slumped toward the floor with a slight 'O' to her pursed lips and a little whimpering moan.

Even unconscious and slumped awkwardly on the floor, June was totally fuckable. "The red heels and panties are a nice touch. You must be his bitch," Aaron whispered to the unconscious woman as he quickly handcuffed wrists and ankles. Aaron had a ballgag perfect for her outfit; of course, it was red. Aaron stuffed the bound woman tightly under her bed frame and headed back toward the suite's entry.

Aaron knelt behind the still partially ajar bedroom door and listened. The main activity was down the hall and in the greatroom beyond. The kitchen, livingroom, and dining area were all open and comprised an 'L' of the rectangular home. Only two bedrooms were at Aaron's section of the house.

Aaron settled down to wait. Oscar appeared to be with his head accountant, a small mousy man, prematurely bald. The two sat at the dining room table, interrogating Helen Powell, formerly of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. She was tied naked to an armchair, knees pulled lewdly open and tied tightly toward the chair's rear legs. Helen's arms were wrapped with white nylon line to the armrests. She was still eagerly cooperating. Oscar asked questions and the mousy accountant took notes.

"Where is Regina Tyre," Aaron wondered. He sat back and worriedly considered where she could be. He cursed Doctor Kay for destroying Puppy's vocal cords. He should have a radio to check on the GPS locator signals. "Shit. Shit. Shit." Aaron thought.

He again listened intently for sign of the black-haired woman and any other members of the drug kingpin's gang. With little other choice except to give up, Aaron moved from relative safety to the more exposed hallway and moved to the other bedroom. Shivers ran up his spine as he slipped into the room from a brightly back-lit hall. He froze in place; momentary shocked.

A huge man, naked and hairy, obviously a bodyguard, stood between Regina's legs. Her knees were bent over the foot of the bed and tied to the bed's legs. Her hands could just be made out above her head and pulled up toward the headboard. Both were eerily silent.

Aaron watched as the man grabbed another handful of wooden clothespins and continued to clip them to her body. Dozens of them marched up inner thighs, encircled her pussy and ran down the opposite leg to the other knee. Similar lines were inside her tortured arms, around her breasts, and everywhere.

Regina looked like a pincushion, a porcupine, a very uncomfortable captive. The dog collar kept her protests of pain internal. The vicious shocks were worse than the constant throbbing from her body.

Aaron crept up behind the sadistic bodyguard and discharged the stun gun into his orange-sized ball sacs. As he went down, Aaron pulled him back and away from Regina. Blindfolded, she was unaware of what was happening.

Aaron dragged the man, easily 275 pounds, to the bathroom and slid him into the tub. He picked up a white hand towel and covered his hand before sliding a razor-sharp knife smoothly across the man's throat. The towel quickly sprouted red blossoms of blood through the fabric. The guard's heart killed him as his blood flowed out of the twin, severed arteries. Aaron wiped the blade on another towel and returned the knife to a sheath at his waist.

Aaron returned to look at Regina. Her tongue and tits were tied with cords leading up to the high wooden columns of the headboard. The taut tongue kept her head rolled far back and the fishhooks yanked the tits tightly up. The guard had liked Aaron's idea and replaced the short lengths of twine with longer ones. Aaron looked down to her pussy and saw that the hooks there were missing; they had been moved up to the corners of her mouth. An obscenely tight line ran around the back of her head, grossly exaggerating her smile with the tight hooks. Regina's face was contorted in pain from her bondage, the hooks, and the clothespins. Aaron now revised the number of wood clothespins at several hundred.

His now clean blade flickered out of the sheath and easily cut through the bow-tight line to her tongue. A strong hand to anchor her forehead, and the blade kissed her cheek briefly before cutting the punishing line around her head. Aaron re-sheathed the knife and gently tugged the barbless hooks free of her mouth. The line to her tongue ring was also undone.

Aaron clasped either side of her face and leaned down to whisper, "Calm down, little one. The cavalry is here." Faster than thought itself, the blade was drawn again and with lightening speed sliced through the titty strings. Each full breast rebounded to her chest and jiggled enticingly. Aaron left those two fishhooks in place for now and silently left the room.

Aaron faintly heard the droning conversation from downstairs and hesitated. "He must have a second bodyguard," he thought. "What have I overlooked?" Aaron remained at the top of the stairs listening.

Finally he decided that someone had to be outside, despite his hasty recon. He slipped back out to the rear deck and ignoring the ocean view, turned to look at each side of the home. Aaron only spotted the sentry when he brought his cigarette down away from his mouth. The man hid the ember as he drew smoke into his lungs, but failed to hide the diminishing glow as he brought it down to his side. The bodyguard was some distance form the house and he sat on a bucket, well hidden in a depression surrounded by plantings. Aaron judged the guard could not see into the living room above from his position. Based on the partner's early progress in torturing Regina, the guards were not due to change positions for awhile.

Aaron returned to the bedroom. He had to deal with the guard last, it was simply too dangerous to try and sneak up on him. Aaron blessed the saints above that the bodyguard ignored the seaward approach and only focused on the roadway.

In the end, Aaron just walked into the greatroom, fired the taser at the drug dealer, and calmly used the stun gun on the incredulous accountant. Aaron told the policewoman, "Quiet if you want to escape and live." With that said, he picked up the dog collar remote and activated the anti-bark function anyway. Aaron handcuffed the accountant, gagged him and headed upstairs with the bound drug dealer on his shoulder. In the bedroom, Aaron taped circle after circle of duct tape around his ankles, knees, thighs, waist, and chest. Oscar was going nowhere.

Oscar was dumped into the master bedroom's Jacuzzi tub. Aaron fed a surgical tube down the drug-dealer's nostril and ran the other end up to an IV bag hung from the top of a nearby window.

Aaron slipped outside to the deck again and drifted down the steps to the dunes below. The going was easier and more silent than expected as a small path ran toward the hidden bodyguard. The shoreward breeze kept down the mosquitoes and rustled the sea oats, masking the sound of his steps through the dry sand. The waves rhythmically crashing ashore behind him also helped cover his movements. Aaron held off at a range of about fifteen feet and debated his next step.

The guard took that moment to glance toward the ocean. Aaron fired his 9-mm once and a small dot of red blossomed on the guards forehead, the guns roar exploded into the night, competing with the nearby dull roar of the surf. Aaron confirmed the kill and quickly raced back to the house.

Aaron dropped two of the bulging bags to the sand and aimed his flashlight into the dark ocean. He kept flashing the light until Puppy responded with two quick flashes of light. Satisfied, Aaron sprinted back to the house.

Puppy was using the engines to hold the boat just offshore when Aaron brought his next load down to the beach. He wadded out to throw each of the four bags into the boat and then returned to the house. Puppy pulled back from shore a little to await his return.

Just minutes later, Aaron came plodding back to the beach leading an unlikely coffle of handcuffed slaves. All four had leads to their collars, two on the abused policewomen and the third on a geeky looking guy. The last person in the coffle was a black-haired beauty, naked save for a red g-string. Puppy noted to herself that the woman was better off naked as the tiny triangle of cloth just drew attention. "Unless that's what she wanted," Puppy thought.

Puppy kept the engines to a quiet low throttle as the loaded craft drifted from shore. Her master secured the cargo. As she finally opened up the throttle and flicked on the running lights, her face twisted side to side to catch the rush of air. At thirty knots, she leveled off the throttle and observed to herself that, "Life is good. It is good to be alive." She smiled as she echoed her lover's thoughts and decided that they were true.

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

****** Please consider an e-mail with your opinion on the story ******

****** Alternatively, consider using the BDSM library review option ******

****** Story ideas are also welcome ******

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 21 – Following the Money Trail (or Fooling the Accountant)

Aaron sat in Bedroom 4B on a couch beside his partner, Puppy. Before them, two miserable and naked prisoners huddled. They were silent, save for a few gentle sobs; their dog-training collars ensured that. One prisoner was male, a first for Aaron's East Coast Slavers Organization. The other was delectably female, the ex-girlfriend of the now deceased drug kingpin Oscar Lynden.

Aaron got up to check on Ingrid and Sandy. His dick twitched at the sight. Four collared and naked women stood in the oversize shower stall. Ingrid and Sandy each held a showerhead and were gently rinsing off Helen and Regina, the two brutalized policewomen. Still handcuffed, Helen Powell and Regina Tyre meekly followed directions as they were shampooed and scrubbed down.

Aaron saw Regina flinch as a soapy sponge washed her sore breasts. All the fishhooks were gone, thrown overboard on the boat ride away from the drug dealer's hideaway. Aaron smiled as he remembered the man's final moments. Before picking up his second load of the drug kingpin's money and cocaine, he stood over the then conscious dealer. Oscar's angry eyes locked with Aaron's as he struggled to escape his bonds. When Aaron described in detail what his fate was to be, the man wet himself. Aaron explained that the IV bag held 200 grams of cocaine dissolved in two quarts of tequila. He then opened the drip valve and Oscar Lynden struggled anew as he watched the deadly poison slowly drip down the transparent plastic tubing that led to his nostril. Aaron stuck a final piece of tape across the doomed man's nose and left the room; the man's fear-filled gasping wheezes from his ring-gagged mouth followed him into the hall.

Aaron smiled grimly as he remembered the man's actual death. Oscar was nearly unconscious when Aaron returned for the final load of bags and dead when he came back for the girlfriend. He choked to death on his own vomit before the IV bag was empty. Aaron left the bag to empty itself and took Oscar's girlfriend downstairs to join the accountant. By the time Regina Tyre was freed from her bondage in the other bedroom, the bag was empty. Aaron yanked out the tubing and stowed it and the bag in a pocket.

Aaron was well satisfied. The drug organization was in shambles. According to new reports and the drug dealer's accountant, Oscar had murdered a number of the identified turncoats as well as two key lieutenants that Aaron fabricated a story about. The police, incensed at the disappearance of their three agents, were bringing in all known associates for questioning. The organization was in leadership and financial ruins.

The four naked women came out of the shower almost giggling. Aaron's instruction to Ingrid and Sandy was to bath them and disinfect their piercings. Aaron set three vials of medicine on a dresser drawer unit; antibiotics, B vitamins, and a muscle relaxant. The two policewomen meekly lay across the side of the bed while the shots were administered. Puppy brought in Karen Rigdon, the undercover agent and all three women crawled gratefully into bed.

Ingrid and Sandy attached a single ankle cuff and a long lead chain to each of the weary women. Ingrid told the three women they had earned a long rest.

Aaron walked over and gently patted Helen's tit and gave her a lingering kiss. "Sleep tight, you did good, Helen." He repeated the scene with the other two; rubbing one's belly and the other's still-damp pussy as he gave goodnight kisses to Regina and Karen. Each gave what could only be judged as eager tongue twisting responses. His girls were well-trained and grateful to be back together safely as well.

Ingrid, Puppy, and Sandy had already departed with the girlfriend and accountant to Training Pad H, the Punishment Cage.

Aaron double-checked that the twenty-foot chain lead was securely chained to a leg cuff of each woman and he moved to turn out the lights and leave.

June Curl was already hanging by her wrists under the Punishment Cage. Her collar was in the on position and her ballgag removed. Ingrid was just tightening the pulley system and the terrified woman was being drawn up to dangle a foot off the ground, tightly stretched out by wrist and ankle spreader bars. The woman's breasts heaved and her taut belly sunk in from the strain. Puppy, Ingrid, and Sandy sat down to watch the show beside the trembling accountant. Like June, Michael Mueller (Oscar Lynden's accountant) was still ballgagged but was now securely strapped into a chair.

Aaron rolled a cart to Michael and said, "For the next hour or so, you will see what each new slave goes through. Unless you cooperate with me, your fate will be far worse." With that, Aaron dramatically swept off the white surgical towel covering the tray to reveal rows of gleaming surgical implements. Aaron walked over to June.

"June, don't talk during this session or your collar will truly punish you." Aaron set a nipple clamp on one brown nipple and started to crank the adjusting screw to a punishingly tight setting. He followed with a clamp for her other nipple, and three on each cunt lip. "June only has one piercing on each ear. Today we add nineteen more piercings; four on each ear, three on each cunt lip, two on each breast, and one on her clit. Michael, look carefully, because we will start the same with you if you fail to cooperate."

Aaron started on the nipples, removing one clip, swabbing the throbbing flesh with alcohol, and skewering the stub of flesh with a thick piercing needle.

June kept slowly shaking her head as if Aaron would obey her silent plea to stop. The clips and humiliation were worse than the actual piercing. Soon needles protruded from her pussy, breasts, and ears.

Aaron sat in his own chair and grabbed an ice-cold Pacifico Beer from his cooler. "Beer time girls," he offered. All three training Mistresses dove at his tiny cooler in an uncharacteristic display of eagerness. Aaron didn't care. It was a time for celebrating.

His heavy black boots thumped down on Michael's naked upper thighs. Aaron leaned back and enjoyed the relaxing position. "Michael, after I finish with this slut," he nodded back toward the human pincushion, "you and I will sit down and talk. Michael, you will cooperate eagerly, else you end up here." Aaron sucked down the remainder of his refreshing brew and gathered up a shallow pan with piercing rings soaking in disinfectant. Aaron fed the end of a ring into a hollow at the end of the needle and twisted the three-quarter-inch loop through the nipple. Soon eighteen gold rings were locked into place, adorning the still beautiful woman. Aaron held off on the nineteenth ring, the one to go through her clit hood, for later on.

Aaron sat down again and turned to Michael Mueller. "The rings are great for punishment as well as humiliation." He turned to Ingrid and Sandy and nodded for them to proceed.

Each woman silently took up a riding crop and positioned themselves beside the sobbing woman. Aaron looked at her lush body and reflected on the great choice that Oscar made in his bedmate. Not sure yet if she was a coke whore or a party girl who drifted into a bad situation, Aaron judged her fantastic despite whatever reason brought her to be Oscar's lover. Only a small tattoo on her mons marred the perfection.

"Michael, you ever fuck her?" Aaron asked brutally.

The wide-eyed geek shook his head no.

"Ever want to?" Aaron asked disinterestedly. Without looking to Michael for an answer, he calmly gave the command to proceed.

Ingrid the Training Mistress and her slave, Sandy, proceeded to flail wildly at June. Even taut as a bowstring, her body rebounded from the strength of the blows. Nothing was spared. Every few seconds, June howled in pain, always abruptly interrupted by the overriding electrical discharge from the collar.

Finally, at the five-minute mark, Aaron raised a hand and the two halted, sweat glistening on their faces and upper arms. Sweat also stained their leather bustiers. Struck alternatively by the two working as a team, June had received three hundred punishing strokes from the leather pad at the end of each crop. Square blotches discolored her entire body.

Aaron turned off the collar and nodded again to Ingrid. Ingrid yanked the girl's head back with a fistful of black hair and snarled, "Your collar is off, Cunt. No talking allowed, only shrieks of agony." With that, she and Sandy laughed and went behind the girl to prepare the famous 'warehouse dildos.'

Aaron again turned to the petrified accountant and said, "Now it gets interesting, you stupid cocksucker. Picture yourself in her place." Aaron glanced at the man's pathetic excuse for a cock as it bobbled fully erect at four and one-half inches. "Your dick is stupid if it thinks it gets to join in on the fun."

Ingrid stood on the front side of June with a nine-inch cock glistening with aromatic liniment. Sandy stood on the other side, facing the rear with a six-inch cock dripping with red Thai Chili Paste. Ingrid drove her cock deep into June's cunt and wormed it up until it hit bottom.

June cried with shock and outrage as Ingrid finished seating the cock.

Once set, Ingrid pulled it all the way out and brutally reset it all the way in. The single fucking cycle evenly coated her pussy walls and outside lips with the liniment.

First June's pussy itched, then her privates started to ache. Within seconds it became increasing pain until the liniment began to burn her sensitive inner tissues like live coals. June's breasts heaved, her hips tried to dislodge the dildo held tightly in place by Ingrid. June shrieked and cried, begging for mercy as her cunt felt like a glowing hot branding iron was being churned around her insides.

Aaron turned to the terrified accountant. His cock was no longer hard. It was limp with fear. Michael had also pissed himself, the puddle on the floor and the wet seat proved it. With a grimace of disgust, Aaron said, "Michael, this is nothing. Wait until you see the end of Act One." He beckoned to Sandy and commanded the cowed accountant, "Open your mouth and lick this cock."

Sandy grinned maliciously at the terrified accountant. As his tongue tentatively came out to touch the tip of the fearsome cock, she jammed it deep into his mouth. She was already walking away on her way back to recoat the fake cock with more chili paste when his nerves realized what the concoction was. The accountant howled in pain. His mouth burned hotter than any spice he could have imagined.

Aaron pointed Michael's head to Sandy, forcing him to watch as she poured more of the red paste on the cock.

June's unearthly howls and screams reverberated through the cavernous warehouse as her ass took six inches of burning cock. Michael Mueller was more than ready to talk.

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

Aaron and Michael Mueller sat alone by the now deserted training pad. Before Puppy left with the broken drug dealer's girlfriend, she slid a nylon tie through the end of a chain lead and wrapped the nylon around Michael's ball sac before tightening it. With a final squeeze to his balls, she threw the leash to Aaron and flounced out, dragging the exhausted June Curl behind.

"OK, buddy," Aaron started, "time for us to talk. You ready, … or do you want some warm up like the cunt?"

Michael vigorously shook his head, "Nno, … no, I will talk now."

"Good," Aaron leaned back and continued; "Let's start with Oscar's organizational structure. I want to know names, positions, responsibilities, key contacts, corrupt officials, and more. You start and I'll keep you steered in the right direction.

The accountant started with Oscar Lynden and slowly worked his way down the drug organization's hierarchy. Aaron captured his discourse, word for word. He occasionally stopped the tape to ask a clarifying question or to get Michael to pick up the conversation with proof of wrongdoing by the dealers or officials. The taping continued for hours. Conspicuously missing from the tape and its typed manuscript was any mention of active bank accounts that the accountant could access.

Aaron left the emotionally drained wimp tied to his chair and retired to his office. The first order or business was to count the money and weigh the drugs taken from Oscar's hideaway home. Aaron learned his lesson with the undercover agent and had already checked each bundle of money and brick of drugs for electronic devices while still on the boat.

Booty Recap from James Lee :

Left with the body – 3 kilograms of cocaine

– 6 handguns

– $105,000 cash

Stolen by Aaron – 26 kilograms of cocaine

– $1,000,000 cash

Booty Recap from Oscar Lynden :

Fee for selling 2 agents – $1,000,000

Five 75# duffle bags – $7,000,000

– 30 kilograms of cocaine

--------------------------------------------------

Gross Profits : $8,000,000

55 kilograms of cocaine (2.75 M street value)

Aaron grinned grimly at the thought of $8,000,000 in profits to shut down an entire drug organization. As an added plus, his stock had grown considerably (a trophy wife and her girlfriend, an undercover agent, a lawyer/prosecutor, a policewoman, and a drug kingpin's girlfriend). After the formal taping session, the accountant had coughed up lots of incriminating leads and sources for millions in stashed loot.

"The money needs to be grabbed now," Aaron thought. He needed to get to an internet café quickly in order to start getting the wire transfers going. Michael's notes and laptop in his briefcase contained everything Aaron needed. Oscar Lynden had just over $15,000,000 in funds stashed in various off-shore accounts and something like $10,000,000 in illegally laundered money in United States accounts. Within days, Aaron would have $25,000,000 shuffled around the world in wire transfers. He would clear over $23,000,000 by the time everything was done. Added to the drug cash on hand, and Aaron hoped to gross over $31,000,000 on just this one operation.

Life was really good. Because of the recent events, Aaron was also getting the germ of an idea for modifying his business plan for East Coast Slavers Organization. "Profits are the God for capitalists," he muttered with a grin.

Aaron made another decision and passed word to Puppy. Michael was to be chained on a long lead in Bedroom 4A for the next few days as a pampered, clothed guest while he worked on a job for Aaron. His task will be to transcribe the tape into a comprehensive document detailing the organization. Puppy would tape the ultimate 'confession/documentary' as Michael read from his notes. The tape was to be set up as a sworn, last official statement prior to his disappearance. As reward for this, Michael could pick among Emily Davis (the trophy housewife), Pamela Bondi (her partying girlfriend), or June Curl (Oscar's girlfriend) for a nightly bed partner. This last benefit for Michael also helped Aaron decide on nightly placement for his too many slaves and further train the captives for their future lives. Aaron hinted to the accountant that he might have one of the women fulltime if things with the tape worked out.

Aaron planned to help the authorities crush any remaining elements of the drug organization and expose corrupt or cooperating officials at the same time. It is possible that Michael Mueller might end up a hero to investigators before his final disappearance. Aaron Clarke was not certain what the final outcome with Michael would be. It was a thorny issue.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 22 – Amber Plans an Adoption (or Veronica Gets Her Divorce)

Aaron Clarke flipped his personal cell phone shut with a sigh and then slumped back into his seat. The call had been long and emotional. It had been Aaron's older sister, and only living close relative. Amber and Aaron were the only siblings as they grew up in the Clarke household and they bonded closely as friends. She was older than Aaron by five years and at thirty-five, she was nearly unhinged by her inability to have children. Bryon and Amber Gillot tried desperately to have children, but never succeeded in six years of marriage.

The couple had been cursed with difficulties in becoming pregnant, and then carrying to full term. First, it was her husband's sperm, then her uterine wall's inability to allow the fertilized egg to latch on. Finally, she discovered that her body would simply not accept a growing fetus and nurture it to term. This hardest lesson was learned as a result of a series of miscarriages.

Amber Gillot was afraid that she would remain childless. This was especially poignant for her as a child would have mitigated her loneliness in a foreign country. Her husband, Bryon, was French and the couple settled in Nice, France on the Mediterranean Sea. Their home was located not far from Monaco and the extreme southwest corner of Italy.

Aaron pulled a Pacifico out of his refrigerator and pondered her problem. He thought how unfair life was to deprive a couple so desperate for a child. It might have been late Friday morning in France, but it was five in the morning in Miami. Tired, and unable to solve his sister's problem, he returned to his computer and reviewed his expense and income worksheets.

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

Aaron's 'Robert Morgan' cell phone rang. It was Steve. He had a quick commission from a rich Egyptian that needed to be filled immediately. Aaron was the obvious choice because of his location.

Hosni Yassin was wealthy and owned and controlled the extensive operations of a Cairo-based construction firm. Hosni had recently established his first European office in Marseille, France. Given the difficulty of breaking the cultural barriers to fairly compete in the tight European market, Hosni needed an edge. His multi-story European headquarters building included several high-security floors devoted to entertaining special clients. He had a restaurant and chefs, beautiful guest suites, but tired of using the local escorts for his guests. He would pay Steve Austin $600 thousand, plus expenses, to deliver four general-purpose sex sluts. They could be untrained. Hosni would enjoy some personal involvement in breaking them for his use.

Aaron fit into the acquisition because late that same week, Hosni had a huge load of heavy construction equipment and building materials departing the Port of Miami for Marseille. Steve suggested that Aaron use the just harvested housewives that drifted too close to a huge southeastern United States drug organization and convert them to full-time sex slaves. Aaron agreed that they were the best candidates and once fired up, very enthusiastic sexually. He also suggested that Oscar's girlfriend, June Curl join the slaves bound for Marseille, France.

Steve also passed on that the tramp freighter Captain and his officers were prepared to take care of the four special passengers. This freighter, owned by a Greek shipping magnate, had run illegal cargo before for Hosni. Loyal and vicious, they would enthusiastically break in the new meat enroute to the Mediterranean Sea, a ten-day voyage by freighter.

Aaron hung up and thought about what to do about the fourth slavegirl slot. He could always throw in the virgin Barbara Michaels. The decision about what to do with his most sexually innocent captive had haunted Aaron. It was already Monday and the ship set sail in exactly five days, the next Friday night. Aaron had some decisions to make.

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

It was now late Monday night, just barely twelve hours after Steve Austin's call about Hosni Yassin. Aaron smiled as he remembered the fun he had with Sophia Lenz and Rochelle Grosso in the British Virgin Islands (B.V.I.). The two girls enjoyed Michael Moore's (the persona that traveled to the B.V.I. and met the girls) twisted sense of humor and sex drive. The fact that he appeared to be rich was a true bonus to the greedy, part-time whores.

Aaron's daydream was interrupted as he reached the front of the line he had been waiting in and a bored car-rental agent beckoned him forward. He was at the Detroit airport.

The dangerous part of his current plan was three-fold. First, it was hastily concocted and motivated by revenge. Second, he would be exposed to possible capture during his forced drive back to Miami if the authorities caught on to his role in the planned abduction. Lastly, he couldn't bring much of his special gear with him because of his air travel. Aaron had chanced bringing his taser and some syringes filled with tranquilizer and some of Doctor Kay's amnesia-inducing drug, all secured in his checked luggage. He could show a prescription for the syringes. If the taser and bondage toys were discovered, he would attempt to bluff his way out of the situation. There was no finesse in this plan. It was a quick and brutal solution to a number of challenges that he faced.

The rental agent confirmed, "Mr. Robert Morgan with a one-week, one-way rental to return at B.W.I." Aaron confirmed the rental information, presented his Robert Morgan identification, and drove away with a nearly new, oversize SUV.

Outside of Detroit, Aaron stopped for a late dinner and a last chance to review his plan. Later, he folded down all the back seats of the van and changed into black trousers, shoes, and a charcoal pullover in the cramped space of the SUV's interior. He placed his fake license plate covers over the vehicle's Tennessee tags and then pulled down the block from the seedy truckstop diner and pulled into an adjacent all-night adult bookstore. Aaron spent a lot of money on cuffs, chains, whips, ropes, gags, and much more. He then resumed his journey toward the suburb containing the residential neighborhood that he knew so well. It was now midnight.

Aaron parked two doors down at the curb in front of a home currently vacant for much of the summer. Aaron Clarke knew that the older couple was at their Mexican timeshare. Veronica, his wife, had complained of being stuck with picking up mail and arranging lawn service, tasks that Aaron had done frequently for the friendly couple. Veronica was resentful at filling what she considered an unpleasant duty and had bitched about it in a recent phone call. No pleasantries took place in the strained, and one-way, conversation. "Veronica certainly reverted to a first-class bitch," Aaron lamented as he parked.

No dogs were on his old street. Aaron simply slipped through the backyards to his father-in-law's home and silently opened the door with his house key. He set down his heavy bag and crept into the kitchen. The house was quiet and dark; both Ralph and his daughter were asleep.

Ralph slept in the guest bedroom, allowing his spoiled daughter to have the master bedroom. Aaron paused outside a bedroom door, readied the taser in his gloved hand, and took several slow, deep breaths. He slipped through the doorway, focused on Ralph's sleeping form, and fired the heavy twin electronic darts into his chest. Ralph convulsed a little as the weapon discharged through the lead wires, and then he settled down. Aaron rolled the heavy man onto his plump belly and quickly tied his hands and ankles. A ballgag and a shot of Doctor Kay's magic elixir in his ass, and Ralph was taken care of.

The bound and helpless man was left on his bed while Aaron quietly glided through the dark home toward the master bedroom. He grinned evilly thinking of the rude awakening that Veronica would have over the upcoming weeks. Her next few hours would be particularly distressing.

Veronica had to be conscious during the scenes to come; so, keeping the reloaded taser handy in his left hand, Aaron approached the bed and the sleeping woman. Unlike that night months ago, when he raped Veronica, she was sleeping on her back. The covers had slipped down to her waist, exposing the sheer baby-doll top she was sleeping in. Even in the dimly lit room, he could see her prominent nipples through the lacy top. Veronica let out a quiet snore and then started breathing quietly again.

Aaron had no misgivings about his plan for Veronica. She had given him nine months of sexual bliss and then two years of shrewish hell. The fact that she reverted to her prior bitchy behavior after proving herself capable of normal behavior, was the final straw. Her behavior since their separation had remained nasty and unacceptable. She deserved this.

With a last lingering look at her beautiful facial structure, Aaron clenched his right fist and struck her a mighty blow across the chin. He then plunged a ballgag into her mouth and strapped it into place. The insensate woman was dragged off the bed and onto the carpet. Aaron bent the woman over, wrapped white cotton clothesline around each wrist, and secured it to the inside of the matching ankle. He next tied each elbow to a thigh, leaving the woman with her legs lewdly spread open. He pushed her facedown in the carpet, her g-string covered pussy pointing toward the ceiling. Her baby doll top fell down covering her face. All her weight was on her chin, bare tits, and her two knees.

Unneeded for the moment, Ralph was thrown down unceremoniously on the opposite side of the bed. Aaron left the two bound and helpless captives on the carpet and left to do two quick errands before he sat down to enjoy the fun.

First, he crept silently into his two-year old daughter's room and looked into her crib. The toddler looked angelic, sound asleep with her blonde tresses spread out on her coverlet. Aaron carefully injected Laurena Clarke with a specifically measured dose of tranquilizer. She would sleep safely for about twelve hours. Michael gathered his daughter's diaper bag, toys, and clothes and left them in the entry hall for later on.

Next, Aaron rummaged through Veronica's closet for her video camera and some 8-mm tapes. He brought the equipment over to a corner and set up a tripod with a good view of the master bed. A new Polaroid camera and ten packs of instant film were set on the dresser for use later. The scene was set, much like that used against Ingrid Gaviard and Connie Baxter. Blackmail and evidence were key components to a successful plan.

Aaron closed the bedroom shades and turned on all the lights in the room. Her own camera captured a clearly terrified Veronica. The camera circled to get a full picture of her exposed position tied over a barstool from the kitchen. Aaron also zoomed in on her drooling lips stretched tightly around her red ballgag. Carefully keeping out of the scene, Aaron flicked a horse lunging whip again and again toward her exposed flesh. The video screen clearly showed a man tormenting the nearly naked and bound woman wearing nothing but her a ballgag and heels along with the white bondage rope holding her in place. Veronica's tormented face and the drool around the ballgag indicated the unwillingness of the poor woman. A few strokes of the whips heavy tip squarely struck her pussy folds, eliciting a strong quivering response from Veronica. Her exposed position afforded no privacy or protection to her lewdly open body. Aaron set down the video camera and switched over to the Polaroid camera. The flicker of the flash and whir of the camera, ejecting picture after picture, were harbingers of doom for Ralph Morton and his daughter Veronica Clarke. These prints, and many more of other scenes to come, were set aside to incriminate Ralph as a torturer of his daughter.

Next, Aaron pulled her baby doll top and thong panties back on. Veronica was tied ass upthrust and face down to the floor. This time, he yanked the thong crotch strap aside to expose the pink pussy folds. Her sparse blonde curls did little to hide her pleasure cleft. A little more video work and her new sluttish look was recorded. A riding crop was added to spice up this scene. The meaty splat of the leather patch at the end of the swishing crop striking tender flesh, followed by the muffled squeal of pain and outrage, were wonderful effects for the camera.

Aaron teasingly cut off her top and panties before moving the sobbing woman to lie belly down on the master bed. Unable to move beyond some sexy wiggles, her ass was quickly forced high into the air by some pillows jammed under her taut tummy.

This time, Aaron held a monstrously large fake cock in his one hand and the video camera in the other. Unable to see him and recognized her fate from her face-down position, Aaron centered the behemoth cock on the unsuspecting blonde's pussy. The flesh-colored dildo had veins like a real cock, but thickened to at least three inches across, and was easily sixteen inches long from bulbous tip to the base of two tennis-ball-sized fake testicles.

Aaron leaned all 205 pounds of his muscled form into a single downward thrust of the monster into her unprepared cunt. Veronica wriggled and howled into her gag. The camera moved up her side and captured her continued screams of agony as well as the tears and snot streaming down her face onto the bed sheet below. A close-in focus of the camera recorded her pussy lips stretched paper thin around the big cock. Its diameter was easily as wide across as a soda can.

The Polaroid camera was mounted on the tripod and focused at Veronica's tortured pussy. Aaron took an identical outfit to what he wore from his bag and manhandled Ralph's limp body until he was dressed. Ralph was slid; face up, under Veronica's tortured cunt. Aaron started a sequence of Polaroid pictures. Between each, he moved Ralph or Veronica's body, posing them with a variety of bondage devices in hand, cunt, or ass.

Ralph clasping a dildo going in her ass, … Click.

A rope tightly torturing a breast, … Click.

Ralph's face covered by a swollen red breast, … Click.

A black gloved hand clasping a full breast, … Click.

Aaron threw Veronica down on the floor behind her loveseat in the den. Veronica resisted his efforts to change her clothes until he slapped her hard, three times. Then, she meekly allowed him to dress her in whorish red lingerie. Veronica was then tied down, delectable ass up, to the back of the overstuffed chair.

Veronica was a wet dream to behold. Red 'fuck-me' heels, red crotchless panties centered on her reddened ass, and a matching bra with huge nipple cutouts. A red ringgag completed the outfit.

Aaron changed tapes and spent considerable time circling her body and its obscene position on the sofa. His gloved hands mauled and tortured her jiggling ass cheeks, her swollen and tender vaginal lips, and her dry puckered ass. The video and Polaroid camera captured everything.

He set down all the recording equipment and took off his pants and boots. His gigantic cock was readied at her sore pussy and his cock head, with a dab of lube glistening on its tip, rested against her ass grommet. Aaron teased her holes, letting her know what actions would follow. Despite his need to punish this woman, his throbbing cock and the lifeless dildo were each eased simultaneously into her holes. He wanted this moment to last. The hot, tight rectum clasped at his dick as her shrieks of pain mirrored her reaction to his other ass rape, so many months ago.

Aaron Clarke grinned as he doubted that tonight would generate any climaxes for the tortured woman. Like the first night they met, Aaron pumped his jism deep into the woman, she was clean and untouched sexually since their separation. His cock was only the third one to fuck her. At least that many would fuck her again and again on her long boat ride to southern France. She would be an accomplished whore by then.

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

Hours later and after doing several more scenes throughout the house, Aaron logged onto Veronica's computer and opened their family mailbox. He double-clicked on a message that appeared to be just another piece of spam. The message read:

Ralph,

We agree with your last asking price. The bitch and her brat will be picked up immediately from your home. Midnight is our arrival time there. You will be our second pick-up of the night. $15 thousand for the bondage cunt and $10 thousand for the kid. As agreed, the baby will be sold off to an adoption agency. Any profits over the $10 thousand will be split with you.

Stop by our club anytime you're in the windy city. The slut will live out her dreams of B&D and S&M. - - - - Snake

Aaron printed the message and left it on Ralph's dresser along with the Polaroid prints and 8-mm tapes. Two pictures were scanned and mailed back to the Yahoo mailbox. He grinned as he added $10 thousand in cash to the evidence he was planting. The e-mail message was a nice touch. He had used an internet kiosk on his layover at the Indianapolis airport to open the Yahoo mail account with bogus information and then drafted the fake message to Ralph. This way, Aaron's conscious did not have to carry the burden of murdering his father-in-law.

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

Aaron Clarke was just hours away from Miami. He had driven non-stop since dropping Ralph off in Detroit. He congratulated himself on a smooth plan and flawless escape. Ralph was left drugged outside a trendy nightclub. Several thousand dollars in cash, incriminating photos of Veronica being tortured, and one hundred grams of cocaine from the dead Miami lawyer were planted in his pockets. To be sure an ambulance and police were called, Aaron notified a group of couples leaving the club about the unconscious man. He waited to be sure their cell phones were used to get help for the stricken man. Content that his plan was going according to schedule, Aaron drove away grinning.

Ralph Morton would soon be in serious trouble.

Aaron saw a high-rise interstate sign advertising a truck stop at the next exit. He signaled his intent to exit and pulled into the large truck stop to check on his passengers.

Laurena was still soundly asleep. Her diaper was wet again and it was easily changed. Aaron set her back into her car seat and turned to check on his other cargo. Veronica was in tight bondage, but fairly comfortable given the length of the ride and the circumstances. She was naked of any article that could be called clothing except for her favorite g-string, hose, and garters. Aaron's favorite wide leather waistband secured her elbow cuffs tight to her sides and her wrist cuffs were clipped together in front of her belly button. Each hand was encased within black leather bondage mitts. Veronica was laid on the SUV's floor, face down. Her ass was yanked high in the air by a nylon line running from her wrist cuffs, down between her legs, through her cunt cleft, and up to a heavy-duty clothes hanging bar mounted across the SUV's ceiling. The rope was tight and her swollen cunt lips protruded outside the narrow panty thong deeply buried in her cunt by the line.

Aaron slipped beside her and stuck his face down by hers. He grinned down at his now very much ex-wife's face and quietly taunted her, "Hey, Veronica, how ya doing here?"

Veronica's eyes reflected her fear and uncertainty. Her face was mashed onto the slimy carpet, wet from her own drool, tears, and snot. "Ullp heee," she groaned in gag speak through her ringgag. "Ummmm horrry, hease, ullp heee."

"Help you? Veronica I don't care how sorry you are now. It's a little late for that. Besides, you should be happy. When we first got together, you never admitted how much you loved being dominated. I'm gonna give you a chance at true happiness and a new occupation. You are gonna be a fulltime bondage slut. That means you will always be as you are now, helpless and ready to fuck. Your new master will give you plenty of practice in the high-class corporate whorehouse where you will live with several other, much more privileged hookers. Enjoy your new life, cunt."

Aaron left her and resumed driving east. Veronica's wondrous ass swayed gently as the big vehicle ate the miles up between her old life and her new one. She could feel the scratchy carpet burning her sensitive nipples and breast meat as she swayed with the vehicle. If she pushed her wrists down toward her ass, the rope loosened slightly until her hands tired and returned to her waist. Then, she discovered that this made the rope saw slightly across her cunt, scratching her clit. As the miles and hours slid by, Veronica's crotch began to gleam from the accumulated pussy foam of her arousal. After each orgasm, she would rest and then began again the difficult task of sawing the rope across her cunt, fighting for the stimulation that would bring release. After countless orgasms, and hundreds of miles, she finally slipped into exhausted sleep.

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 23 – Veronica Meets the Trainers (or Poor, Poor Bitch)

Aaron was bone-weary exhausted. It was now Thursday and nearly noon. He was appreciating a little quiet time at the warehouse. He had returned to Miami from his whirlwind Detroit adventure the day before and slept nearly twenty hours. Laurena, his daughter was with a middle-aged au pair, Shelby McCullough , who would travel with the baby, all expenses paid, to southern France in one of the tramp freighter's passenger cabins. The care provider and baby would be pampered guests and kept away from the officer's quarters. The woman would not want to discover, or participate in, the continuous sex and abuse to take place there. Aaron hired Shelby for a year's service as the family au pair to help with the baby.

Veronica Clarke, Aaron's now ex-wife, would be at the bottom of the sexual ladder during the voyage. She would be the bondage and pain cunt for the Captain and First Mate and the Cum Slut to clean up after Emily Davis, Pamela Bondi, and June Curl. The two housewife/party girls and the drug dealer's girlfriend would begin their conversion to fulltime sex slaves. At least they had Veronica for scenarios needing punishment, bondage, and humiliation. Emily Davis, her friend Pamela Bondi, and June Curl were in for a rude awakening. Their pampered lives were finished.

Aaron Clarke sat resting in his comfortable armchair and watched Ingrid working Veronica. Sweat dripped off her body, naked save for a pair of cross-trainers and ankle socks. Ingrid didn't even let the poor woman wear a sports bra. Her C-cup tits heaved and rolled from the exertion, she was chained by the neck to the walker-exercising machine. It was set to a steep incline and a steady pace. Ingrid had been walking briskly for two full hours. Without pausing in her pace, Veronica grabbed a sports bottle and drank thirstily, her throat convulsing as it swallowed the life-giving fluid.

Aaron noted to himself that Veronica remained blessedly silent due to the dog-training collar. Never considered stupid, Veronica quickly caught on to the connection between using her voice and the punishing shocks from the ever-vigilant collar.

Each time Veronica began to lag back on the treadmill, or grabbed the handgrips to pull herself forward, Ingrid let loose with a flurry of whip cracks across her twitching rump. Ingrid knew Veronica had another two hours to go. Altogether, she would walk the equivalent of thirteen uphill miles. Aaron wanted her tired and stiff for the ocean voyage.

Puppy was busy giving French and Spanish examinations to the two companion slaves, Wanda and Katria. Later, they would spend the afternoon in the kitchen putting new skills to work following recipes for a seven-course meal to be served to Aaron, Puppy, Ingrid, and Veronica. Of course, Veronica would eat her food while naked and kneeling on the floor beside the other dressed up diners. Puppy would evaluate the eager women on the meal, the table setting, the meal service, desert, and after dinner drinks. The two were also responsible for changing from the sexy French Maid costumes worn during dinner to full 1860s ball regalia and a demonstration of period dances. Afterward, they would perform a lesbian seduction scene before the diner's table on a raised platform.

Wanda Alvernon, the 22 year-old former legal secretary, and Katria Sjogreen, the 26 year-old former paralegal, each loved their classification as companion slaves and fully focused every waking moment to their studies. This was only the end of their second week of training and the progress was astounding. For motivation, they only had to look around and see the lives ahead for the other, less privileged slaves. They cringed each time a regular sex slave was processed, let alone the daily humiliation heaped upon Cunt or Veronica. They were content with their lot, given the awful alternatives, and embraced the thought of belonging to a Master or Mistress that would show them off as trophies to an admiring world. The development of smart, sexy, slaves with the manners of a well-bred woman, and many social and entertainment talents were the essential elements of their graduate level program of studies in languages, dance, music, deportment, world history and current events, economics, politics, and sex were their major subjects. They excelled in everything.

Steve Austin's bid site on the two slaves was receiving much attention from his best and wealthiest clientele. Steve predicted to Aaron that the bids would reach $12 million over a period of three months. Rich and powerful men and women were intrigued by the auction and were slowly driving up the bid price for the set. Puppy's training records and evaluations, photographs, and video clips mounted on the website enflamed the interest. No equivalent set of slaves had ever been offered at international auction. The two women were busy training and studying for eighteen hours a day over a scheduled six months intensive training program. Another interesting aspect of the auction is that each bidder had to provide a detailed accounting of how the new acquisitions would fare under their ownership. These slaves were to be showcased to the world, not hidden away on an estate like a run-of-the-mill slave. The current high bidder was a famous Scottish actor on the verge of retirement. He planned to let the world see his new trophies to prove his continued virility and increase the mystique in which the world viewed him already. His bid, only two weeks into the training cycle and auction, was $6.25 million. Steve Austin expected the bids to dramatically increase over the upcoming months.

The scene on Training Pad D was so peaceful and idyllic to Aaron that he drifted into sleep; pleasant thoughts of Veronica squirming and begging for release from another of the endless cocks being presented to her, crept into his dreams. He felt Veronica unzipping his pants and panting for his cock. She was wiggling and begging him to fuck her again. Her weight settled on his lap and something warm and moist sunk down over his hard stick. A load moan in his ear broke his concentration on the dream and his startled eyes saw a swirl of long black hair around his face. It was Ingrid. She had crept up on him and mounted herself on his nine-inch cock. It was already throbbing for release inside her hungry cunt.

"Master," she whispered hoarsely into his ear, "forgive me, but I have to have your jism for training the new slut. Please, don't be angry with me for waking you, but she is waiting for the next lesson. You were asleep for so long. Ahhh, oh yes, Master, …"

Aaron's hungry dick had already forgiven the part time Training Mistress and part time slave for her impertinent act. Her hips swiveled with newly developed talent from her time as both sex slave and mistress. She knew sex. Aaron groaned as he realized that yet another pair of slacks would need the dry cleaners to remove the inevitable crotch stains from their sexes. He leaned hard back against the chair and thrust his own hips up high to drill him deeper into her hot center. His hands grasped her naked ass under her rucked up leather miniskirt and drew her further onto his cock.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron saw Puppy alertly watching the scene, one hand poised above the remote controller for Ingrid's dog-training collar. She was keeping Master safe. Aaron caught her eye and nodded. Puppy deserved a special treat for her attentiveness. To distract himself, in hopes of delaying the pending orgasm, Aaron looked back the other way toward where Veronica had been exercising. She was gone. Ingrid had her tied atop one of the raised mattresses on Training Pad F, bound face-up.

"Ingrid, is Veronica going to clean you up after this?" Aaron asked as Ingrid kept up her energetic humping atop his cock.

"Ughhh, yessss, … Master, yessss." Ingrid barely managed to stay coherent as her own orgasm triggered spasms in her cunt, squeezing Aaron's cock meat even more. "Puppppy, Puppy told me Veronica never sucked you off, Master. Eiiiii, ohhh yes! Please fuck me Master!" Ingrid's sexual being overtook her rational brain and all coherent thought beyond the battering cock in her cunt cut off. She came hard a second time.

Aaron felt the continuing ripples of muscular contractions sucking and pulling at his cock. Ingrid was a better fuck each day. He grinned as he considered how everything worked out so perfectly with Ingrid. She had truly enslaved herself. "Ingrid, are you fucking me for the training program or because you got so hot abusing my ex-wife?" Aaron asked. He desperately focused away from the talented fuck and slowed down; he was simply too close to erupting.

"Ahhh, ohhh, Maaaster. Please, fuck me." Ingrid whined. "Yessss, I admit it. Torturing that bitch is the best! Ohhhhh. No, fuck me harder Master. Let me humiliate her more." Ingrid was in brain shutdown mode. She was simply a fucking machine at this point.

"Ingrid, here it comes. Take this, all of this. Yes!" Aaron collapsed back into the chair and his cock weakly spurted a few more times.

Ingrid fell across his chest, her heaving breasts stirring Aaron up again as the third orgasm triggered. Just seconds after her breathing started to return to normal, she felt a sharp sting across her exposed ass and the harsh crack of a whip followed. She quickly rolled off Aaron and abased herself at Puppy's feet. The whip directed her back to Veronica and Ingrid quickly complied. She ran, half crouched, one hand holding her slimy cunt lips closed to hold Master's sperm inside. She knelt over Veronica's ringgag and sunk wearily down, covering Veronica's face with spermy pubic hair and gooey cunt lips.

"Eat me now, you worthless fuck," Ingrid hissed to her slave. Both of Ingrid's hands grasped the soft and tender cunt lips in front of her face and pinched hard. "Now!" she demanded again.

Veronica whimpered and tentatively stuck her tongue up toward the musky groin. She hadn't seen Ingrid fucking her ex-husband; but she did recognize that the smell was a man's jism. Veronica rolled her head aside in protest of eating sperm from a just-fucked cunt and the humiliation of a woman's cunt sitting on her face. "Uhhh, hoooo, hop hit," she begged.

The collar reacted instantly and struck back with a brutal shock. Her hips and belly arched so high, so fast, that Ingrid lost her balance and fell forward toward the blonde's legs. Ingrid's face landed in Veronica's cunt and her chin thumped hard against the captive's pubic bone. Another line of fire danced across Ingrid's ass, just missing Veronica's protesting face below. Ingrid looked up to see Puppy had followed her to the slave's punishment session and the lunging whip's fiberglass pole pushed her head back down to the cunt below.

Ingrid, sighed heavily and said, "Yes, Mistress. I will do better next time." Resigned to her own punishment for loosing control of the session, Ingrid covered the entire exposed cunt with her gaping mouth and sucked the labia in hard. Her tongue speared through the captured pussy lips and tasted Veronica's inner nectar.

Veronica felt the pleasurable suction on her cunt; but she made no move to reciprocate as initially commanded. A hook slipped into her nostrils and yanked her head up and back; Veronica's face exploded in pain. A leather gloved hand pushed Ingrid's ass down firmly onto her face and Veronica began to lick. Her collar electrocuted her and she stepped up her efforts, sucking, licking, and swallowing the slimy goo. The stench was overpowering. She paused to catch her breath and the collar shocked even harder. "At least the hook has let loose," Veronica told herself in relief.

Aaron sat and watched the entire scene. He almost fell out of his chair when Ingrid lost her balance and went cunt-diving. Then, when Puppy decided to make Ingrid continue working the cunt, he burst out in loud laughter. "God, I love you Puppy," he shouted across the training area. Puppy wriggled her ass insolently at him, but kept her attention on Veronica, administering painful shocks anytime she showed signs of lagging in her cunt-eating mission. Puppy observed that, as usual, Ingrid excelled in most every task given. Nobody could discern that Ingrid was not one hundred percent eager to eat the slave's cunt. It was gamey from the four hour walking exercise and the other punishment sessions earlier in the day; however, Ingrid never faltered in her cunnilingus.

Aaron heaved himself up and looked over at the rest of his kingdom. "Yes," he told himself for the thousandth time in a month, "life is pretty fucking great." With that, he headed over to observe what his other property was doing.

nineteen-year-old had yet to receive her initial session or been subjected to any training. She was silent and apprehensive as she looked at the man that controlled her destiny. One reason for Aaron's uncertainty about her future was the matter of her virginity and tender age. Given the long-term use of a sex slave, popping one's cherry had little value beyond a medical one. Most buyers wanted a clean slate and no fear of disease. Barbara's owner could fuck her anytime without a condom. Even Aaron only fucked his slaves with condoms. Puppy and Ingrid were the only exceptions. Each was on birth control pills, just in case. Aaron made sure that Barbara had no visual contact with any of his slaves or staff beyond himself. "Eventually I have to decide what to do with this little stuck up bitch," he thought. "Unfortunately, the more money I make, the less inclined I am to sentence her to a life of slavery."

Puppy interrupted Aaron's musing and he walked over to her to take an offered sheet of printed paper. It read:

Master, yesterday was the end of Ingrid's first week as Assistant Training Mistress. It also means that she owes you her first day as a voluntary slave. Each week for the next eleven weeks will end in a similar day. This Mistress recommends that her twenty-four hours begin after dinner tonight. She deserves some deprivation after today's unseemly behavior in fucking you without permission. Perhaps she can join Veronica in tomorrow's exercise program. It would be delicious, especially given that she designed the schedule.

Puppy

Aaron read the message and considered the recommendation. As usual, Puppy had the right idea. Ingrid needed the slave time to further program herself as a slave. Aaron nodded and said, "Yes, Puppy. After dinner is fine. She'll go from pampered Mistress to lowly slave, … yes."

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

Later, in the early evening hours, the honored guests gathered in Bedroom 4A, now converted from bedroom to dining room for the occasion. Veronica crouched miserably on the concrete floor beside her new owner and tormenter, Aaron Clarke. She had been forced to 'stay' for over an hour while the three diners above enjoyed a scrumptious meal. She knew it was mouthwatering because Aaron, her former lover and husband, threw a tiny sliver of food from each course into her dog bowl. Each time, he held her leash tightly to keep her from moving to eat the food tantalizing her with its odors from the stainless steel bowl. Her stomach rumbled in hunger. The long day's exercise regime and an empty stomach made her ravenous. Veronica's last meal was Friday night, three full days ago.

She was all the more conscious of her own nudity by the others' formal attire. Aaron wore a black tuxedo jacket and a starched white shirt. Even Veronica admitted to herself that he looked powerful and handsome. Other than her wedding day, she had never seen Aaron in formal attire. Her heart ached from her clearly unpardonable sins against him.

Both Puppy and Ingrid wore stunning evening dresses stolen from Belinda's now defunct dress shop. All three honored guests had chosen black and looked ready to attend any elite social event.

Wanda and Katria wore outrageously sexy and stereotyped French Maid outfits that Veronica normally would have sneered at as too slutty or whorish. Now, she would have done anything in order to get their clothing and walk around unbound. The girls wore black stiletto heels and seamed black fishnet stockings. Their garters and the lower cheeks of their black panty covered asses peeked provocatively from under the short frilly skirts each wore. Instead of the normal bib top over a white blouse, Katria and Wanda chose a black corset bustier that plumped up their already large breasts. A small white lacy apron and a starched white cap completed their outfit. The girls had drawn their hair up into a bun hidden under the small cap. Veronica envied the girls their costumes and repeated her silent wish to trade places.

The formal dining scene was marred by only two incongruities. Veronica's naked presence crouched beside her owner and her dog bowl was one. The other was the propulsion system used by Wanda and Katria with the serving cart. Veronica had watched in horror earlier while Ingrid and Puppy prepared the blonde forty-six year-old Belinda Maticevski for her task at the dinner party.

Ingrid started by tightly braiding Belinda's long blonde hair into a painfully snug ponytail atop her head. Using a coil of fine wire, Ingrid tightly looped around and around the braid's base until a one-eighth inch thick wrapping enclosed the base.

Horrified at the next step, both Belinda and Veronica squirmed as Ingrid brandished an old-fashioned hand razor. Ingrid delicately sawed below the loops of wire and Belinda's lustrous hair fell free. Puppy proceeded to slide an electric razor in pass after pass, over Belinda's skull, denuding the woman of any hair atop her head except for the fine, nearly invisible, blonde stubble that remained. Both slaves knew Belinda's fate when Ingrid sprayed shaving gel onto her hand and rubbed it on Belinda's eyebrows and skull.

Next, Belinda was locked into a fiendish arrangement of chains. A thin chain linked each ankle cuff to a matching wrist cuff after first running the chain through a loop on the side of the slave's waist belt. The two chains were short, only about two feet long. Belinda could not stand erect, nor could she kneel upright. The short chains only allowed her to move by using a low, crouching duck-walk. Even that position locked her wrists down against the waist loop. To crawl was impossible as, even with ass high in the air and taking only tiny knee steps, her tits and chin dragged across the floor, unassisted by her useless arms. Belinda couldn't use both hands and feet together.

The serving cart was typical, although not very large, except for the dildo protruding out of one end of the cart at about a thirty-inch height. To move the cart, Belinda had to deep-throat the fake cock and waddle awkwardly forward, her ass just inches from the floor. A chain linked her collar to the cart, locking her in the painful position and retaining the dildo deep in her mouth. A microphone and small speaker amplified the poor woman's snorts and nose noise as she struggled to breathe.

In one additional piece of humiliation, Ingrid had glued the woman's long blonde hair into a hollowed-out butt plug and jammed it into her ass. Each muscle wrenching waddling step swished the formerly beautiful woman's hair across the floor. Veronica's heart sunk when Ingrid whispered that perhaps her new owner would let her audition as furniture.

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

The honored guests were sipping their choices of after dinner cordials. Puppy sprawled, quite unladylike, in her dinner chair and rested her tired legs across Veronica's back. Aaron and Puppy were well pleased with the evening.

Ingrid opened the envelope that Aaron slid across the linen-covered tabletop. The flap crackled as she broke a red wax seal and pulled out the small invitation within. It read:

Master Aaron and Mistress Puppy command the presence of slave Veronica at her first of twelve weekly slave sessions. Leave now to prepare as indicated below:

1 – Bathe and douche (both ass and cunt)

2 – Wear your red wig

3 – Lace yourself into a discipline helmet with ringgag and blinders

4 – Go to our bed and chain ankles to wrists

5 – The twenty-four hours begins now

Ingrid gulped and immediately stood up from the table. With a bow, she quietly said, "Master, … Mistress." She took her leave.

Aaron grinned over at Veronica and said, "Eat, Slut!" while loosening his hold on her leash.

Veronica buried her face in the bowl and devoured the meager scraps in seconds. She quivered in horror as her tongue extended and licked the slick surface of the stainless steel bowl; she was still starving. Veronica looked up at her owner and tormenter, and silently pleaded with him for more food.

"Heel!" Aaron commanded and Veronica returned to kneel at his side. "You still hungry little slut?" Aaron asked.

Veronica nodded.

"You can have your fill of chow if you do a task for me," he added.

Without thought, Veronica nodded.

"Good, then it's a deal." With that, Aaron handed over the leash to Puppy who yanked the startled blonde's head toward her crotch.

"Pull up her skirt, take off her panties, and munch away till I stop you. Then, you can eat your fill of dinner."

A mid-nineteenth century waltz started through the room's speaker system. Katria swirled into the room in her elaborate period dress and theatrically waved in her partner. Wanda was equally stunning in her ball gown.

Aaron looked over at Puppy's contented face. Her beautiful black evening dress was crumpled up around her waist and the blonde-haired slave was busy worshiping her pussy. Aaron slid his chair closer to Puppy's, hugged her shoulder, and leaned back to enjoy the first performance by the talented Katria and Wanda. Both Puppy and Aaron were looking forward to the show's transition where to two women metamorphosis from prim and proper dancers to frantically horny lesbian sluts. The show would be arousing.

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

Puppy and Aaron stumbled into their bedroom and slightly swaying from too much to drink, stopped to admire the redhead on their bed. Ingrid lay on her back, legs lewdly spread open, with her wrists cuffed to her ankles.

Aaron whispered loudly to Puppy, "Is she expecting great sex or something?" He grinned at their shared thoughts of the woman's upcoming torment. Aaron drew Puppy's gown straps off her shoulders and while kissing her throat, unzipped her dress from her back down to the cleft of her bare ass. Unable to undress her lover with still awkward hands, Puppy waited patiently for Aaron to get naked as well. The two slavers and lovers energetically wrestled and played on the bed, tantalizing the gagged and blinded slave beside them. They paid her no attention as their foreplay became loud and obvious.

Fully erect and ready to fuck, Aaron whispered to his lover, "Hold that thought, duty calls." Aaron crouched between Ingrid's spread legs and looked at her steamy cunt. Her knees moved slowly in an unconscious attempt to lure something into her open pussy hole. Ingrid needed no further foreplay. None was provided.

Aaron lined his cock up from several inches away and fell forward with all his weight. His aim was true and his dick sunk within an inch or so of being fully seated. With a lunge, his pubic bone struck hers and his knob, nine inches inside her steamy cunt, brushed across her cervix.

Ingrid whimpered with need and thrust her hips up as much as possible. She felt the wondrous knob of his dick swirl around her vaginal walls and felt her own hot juices dribble down her ass crack, tickling her asshole. She moaned in lust and increased her pace. Then his dick plopped out with an audible pop and her greedy cunt was empty. She felt Puppy's unique feet press against her side and then she was tumbling off the bed to the carpet below.

"Uhhhh, hooo. Huck he!" Ingrid protested in gag speak. Her cunt spasmed in need, but her fingers were unable to caress her clit or cunt. Above, she heard the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh as Puppy began to be wildly fucked by her horny owner. "Hucking hunt," Ingrid screeched into her gag.

Aaron's grunts as he fucked into Puppy's talented pussy joined the rhythmic chorus of fleshy slaps in an increasing cadence. Aaron yelled a, "Eiiiii, yes," victory yell as he pumped his cum into Puppy's receptive cunt.

Ingrid cried at her loss and the humiliation of being stuck on the floor all night. The evening did not end in romance and sex as she expected. Somehow, Ingrid thought she would be treated differently than the other slaves. She was wrong; a slave is after all, only a slave.

Enthusiastic sucking and slurping sounds heralded Puppy's desire to go another round. This time, she mounted herself atop her master in the female dominant position. Puppy's talented hips and thrusting cunt set up a slow, steady fucking that Ingrid could plainly hear. The liquid suction sounds continued for a long time before Aaron and his lover collapsed together in a final drawn out climax.

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

Veronica's stiff body complained with her every movement. Her face smelled terrible. It was morning, she thought, but she had no clock to confirm the time of day. Aaron and Puppy had just set up her first exercise session of the day.

Unbathed from her evening before, she could still smell the disgusting combination of scents from her crusty face. Puppy's pussy juices were the faintest and most agreeable odor. She still cried in remembrance of what caused the second smell. After servicing Puppy's pussy throughout the long after dinner entertainment, Wanda and Katria cuffed her wrists behind her back, and led her by the leash into the nearby kitchen. She was chained to a bolt in the floor by a short, one foot, section of chain to her collar. Her dog food bowl and a water bowl were set before her. A meaty mound of cold dog food, straight from the can, was heaped in her food bowl.

Katria shoved her face into the gunk and commanded, "Eat all this by morning or you can learn how to be our toilet slave for the next few days." With a slap on her rump, the two giggling co-slaves and lovers, left for their shared cell, cage number 1.

Veronica eyed the heaping stack of stinking food and tentatively licked a little bit. Deciding the smell was far worse than the taste, she let hunger take over and she started to slurp and chew at the gooey mass. Unable to clean her face, she slept with the smell all night. It was worse with the new day.

Veronica's feet cuffs were tightly attached to the floor about shoulder-width apart. Her hands were drawn up and then clipped behind her head to the training collar; the classic surrender pose for soldiers. Still naked, she sat upright in a sit-up position watching Aaron fumble around her waist with another chain. His strong hands grabbed her fleshy ass and drew her forward across the mat. The waist chain held her forward and eliminated any rearward motion of her hips.

Veronica's collar was in the off setting, but Aaron kept her silent with a simple, "Schuss, slave." She wondered what the exercise session was. Waiting, she glanced to her right where another woman was in an identical predicament. The big-tittied redhead was naked save for an uncomfortable looking leather discipline hood. Her gapping mouth, seen through the open zipper of the hood's mouth opening, was clearly caused by a ringgag. The woman's terrified eyes looked at her. The two held eye contact until Veronica was startled by something nudging against her pussy.

Aaron wriggled a short, very fat cock against her cunt lips. Veronica didn't know it, but it was a much shorter version of the huge thing that raped deep into her cunt just days ago. At only eight inches long, it was shorter than Aaron's impressive cock, but the width was daunting, especially in such a 'short' dildo. The normal-sized cock head quickly expanded to a coke-can size. A row of stiff rubber 'fingers' circled its base. Aaron's eyes locked with hers, his lips curled up in a little smile, and he drove it home.

"Ughhhh," involuntarily escaped her lips. She saw Aaron thread a rod into the cock's base and then he locked it into a motorized hydraulic shaft set between her legs. Veronica shuddered, realizing that soon a machine would be fucking her. A small, pillow-shaped pad was set atop the dildo's base and its lead wire plugged into the fucking machine's control box. Next, Aaron adjusted a metal bar across her body, just above her knees. A red plunger pad was centered on the shaft with a digital readout of each side. He slid a thick rubber pad across the mat and placed it behind her.

"Veronica, the idea of this exercise session is simple. You will do sit-ups, or crunches if you want to call them that, at this station. Your forehead hits this button," he emphasized this by hitting the red pad above her knees. "Then you lie back on the mat and let your head hit a matching unit behind you. You start over by hitting the front button, and so on. The computer keeps track of your count," he pointed to the display to the left of the red button. "And," he continued, "the computer counts down from five seconds at the end of each repetition." Here, Aaron pointed to the right display unit. "Delay and you get shocked by your collar. Too few sit-ups and you get shocked harder. Your quota is twelve per minute for the duration of the exercise. To complicate things," he laughed, "Igor here," he tapped the fucking machine, "will be fucking you. Sometimes it will be soft and slow, other times it will be fast, furious, and deep."

He plugged a coiled lead from the machine's control unit into her collar and turned to set up the redhead. Veronica briefly wondered what the slut had done to draw her husband's ire. She still hadn't fully figured out that he was a slaver and could have acquired the woman for any reason or use.

In fact, it was her own training mistress, Ingrid, bound beside her, fulfilling her lost bet to perform one slave day a week. Ingrid was fearful because she had designed this setup and knew from setting up the training schedule that the slow, seemingly easy pace of sit-ups had to be maintained for four hours. The session matched the prior day's walking session at four hours. "Ughh, hop, hasta. Hep he," she begged.

Aaron heard Ingrid begging in a very unmistakable manner and brutally pinched her nipple in response. "Quiet or some fish hooks will exercise these titties of yours while you do your crunches. Obey."

Ingrid stilled and Aaron smiled down at her. He quietly whispered, "At least you greatly please me as Training Mistress. I will be sorry when your twelve weeks are up. Think of reasons to tempt me to renegotiate our deal. Enjoy."

He flicked the master switch and the numeric displays flickered to life. The massive cocks were, as yet, unmoving in the twin cunts. Neither girl reacted in time for their first crunch; the machine triggered a punishing shock from the collars. They began.

Aaron left the two women to their long exercise session and drifted away to other pressing tasks. Puppy headed off to check on Katria and Wanda. Aaron first went to the kitchen to release cunt to begin her daily tasks, starting with cleaning up from the formal dinner the night before. The kitchen was a mess and would take hours for the lowest slave on the rung to clean.

Cunt was in some sort of duress. Her only free body part, her ass convulsed around the butt-plug as she sprawled on the floor. After dinner, Cunt had been released from the mouth dildo, but the inflatable anal plug with her blonde tresses attached had not been removed. Aaron took slight pity upon her and yanked out the oversized butt plug. Shit immediately began to flow past the brutalized anal sphincter. Cunt simply couldn't hold shit inside her with the expanded ass grommet.

Aaron whipped off his belt and slashed at the chained woman's ass and breasts. "Bad, Cunt! Now you have another mess to clean." Aaron locked a twenty-foot chain to her right ankle and removed the remainder of her bondage. "Shower time is after your chores are finished. Get going, Cunt." With a final splat from his belt, Aaron grinned and strode away towards his private warehouse office. Unless Aaron used a master controller only he held, even Puppy couldn't get her collar past the ground loop and into his private office area.

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

Aaron considered his stable of women and his plans for them. Belinda Maticevski (Cunt) was currently living in cage number 5. Aaron typed a note for Puppy's e-mail box with a set of commands changing cage assignments. Cunt would sleep on a rubber pad in Kitchen 1A with the twenty-foot chain lead. The closest she would come to beds from now on was while changing the linens in the various cages and bedrooms of the warehouse. This freed up one cell.

Current stock:

Cage Number/Name Age/Hair Color Status
1-Wanda Alvernon 22-brunette caged and in training
1-Katria Sjogreen 26-blonde caged, in training
2-Ingrid Gaviard 36-black hair caged, temp assigned as assistant trainer
3-Sandy Hamilton 26-blonde caged, in training
4-Barbara Michaels 19-blonde caged, virgin, not started training
Belinda Maticevski 46-blonde caged, fulltime laundry cunt
Emily Davis 26–blonde for sale to Hosni Yassin
Pamela Bondi 25–brunette for sale to Hosni Yassin
June Curl 25–black-hair for sale to Hosni Yassin
Veronica Clarke 23-blonde for sale to Hosni Yassin
Helen Powell 27–black-hair caged, catch and release program
Regina Tyre 26–brunette caged, catch and release program
Karen Rigden 24–black-hair caged, catch and release program
Connie Baxter 32-blonde free – B.V.I.
Sophia Lenz 22-blonde free – freelance summer hooking in B.V.I.
Rochelle Grosso 22-brunette free – freelance summer hooking in B.V.I.
Puppy 27-hairless pug Slave Mistress and Chief Trainer

Aaron considered what to do with the virgin nineteen-year-old blonde, Barbara Michaels. Earlier, he considered throwing her in with the freighter cargo in hopes of a bonus from the Egyptian buyer. Steve Austin, Aaron's partner, sent him an e-mail rejecting that idea. While rich, and generous in his own way, Hosni rigidly followed the terms of any agreement he entered into. He would pay nothing extra for Barbara unless they renegotiated the deal. Steve felt it was too late for that.

Aaron was now considering using the slut slave Sandy Hamilton in the role he initially envisioned for her; a switch-hitting submissive bitch / dominant mistress. Ingrid negotiated that exact role for herself, at least for the next twelve weeks. Aaron fully intended to convince Ingrid to barter for an extension. He grinned thinking about the possibilities. He loved chess and complicated plots. "Yes, life is good, Marine," he repeated his mantra to himself as he grinned anew.

He turned to his bank of monitors and switched the nearest monitor to cage number three. Sandy was still lying on her bed, naked save for the ubiquitous dog-training collar worn by all women in the warehouse. Her transformation in just one week was noticeable. The twenty-six year old former bartender had started out slightly chunky at 135 pounds. Puppy and Ingrid's training regime and rigid diet had already dropped six pounds off her petite frame. The extra leanness, accentuated by her still D-cup breasts, made the blonde stunning. Aaron planned to get her down to about 123 pounds. His cock twitched at the thought. "Hmmm, nice," he muttered.

Aaron had video and two-way audio throughout most of the warehouse. Each cell also had a small color printer for receiving instructions from Puppy, or anyone else with access to the warehouse local area network. Aaron typed in a message and directed it to the printer simply identified as Cell-3.

Sandy heard the quiet chatter of her printer and she walked over naked to see what was next in store for her. She thought her life sucked. The woman she had enjoyed humiliating, Ingrid, now ran her training regime with a tight-fist. Sandy was outwardly a willing slave. She still remembered the Thai hot sauce and coaches' liniment on the dildos in her ass and cunt. "Never again," she vowed.

The message read:

1 – Wash your hands and face

2 – Ringgag yourself

3 – Lock wrists to waist

4 – Kneel at your cell door and wait

It was unsigned. Sandy didn't care anyway. Her lot was to obey. She quickly complied and waited patiently for a Master or Mistress.

Aaron finished rearranging the sleeping assignments and thought them much improved. With three women departing on Friday, the new arrangements allowed for three new acquisitions. After Cage 5 was emptied Friday, two beds were free in that cage and one other was already available in Cage 4. Aaron thought it a good plan.

Cage 1 – Katria (26) and Wanda (22)

Cage 2 – Sandy (26) and Barbara (19)

Cage 3 – Helen (27) and Regina (26)

Cage 4 – Karen (24)

Cage 5 – Emily (26), Pamela (25), June (25), Veronica (23) (all four depart Friday)

Kitchen 1A – Cunt

Upstairs above Puppy – Ingrid (36)

Aaron returned to his warehouse office with Sandy Hamilton in tow. She had not been out of the training area before and wondered what was in store for her. Her eyes longingly flickered to a bed in the corner and she wondered if she could convince Aaron to change his mind about her status. She followed Aaron's orders and knelt down. His sure hands brushed across her waist and one wrist fell free, only to be quickly drawn back and attached to her ankle. She now had to lean back a little in order for hand and ankle to touch. His hands repeated their actions on her other arm. She felt a blindfold cover her eyes and then he left her. Sandy heard papers rustling at his desk and realized he had gone back to work.

"Sandy, look toward my voice. Your collar is now off." Aaron spoke.

Sandy blindly turned her head toward where the bed was. "How did he get over there so quietly?" she wondered.

"Do you like your position here?"

Without hesitation, Sandy shook her head no.

"I thought that you liked bondage and games. Isn't this just what you always wanted?" he bantered with the cowed slave. Aaron knew full well that she really had aspired to be a fulltime dominatrix. She was much more into humiliating others and all aspects of sex.

"Hoo Hastee. Hoo," she tried to verbalize her unhappiness with how things worked out.

"But, you are a slut, aren't you?"

She slowly nodded.

"Honesty is good, Sandy. Yes, you certainly were a slut the night we tricked Ingrid, the stewardess. Did you like that night?"

She nodded a little more quickly this time.

"Hmmm, so what is wrong with your present status? Maybe you dream of being on top again. Is that it?"

Sandy nodded and kept on nodding. She had a lot to say and no way to do it.

"Maybe we should sit down and talk about your future. However, you can't talk now, can you? Puppy would be mad at me if I simply took off your gag. Hmmm, what to do?" Of course, Aaron Clarke knew exactly what was going to happen next. He just wanted to tease the poor woman and let her earn it. "I've got it. A contest would work. Hmmm, how about I unzip my pants and give you five minutes to find my cock, deep-throat it, and suck it dry? Yes, that's it. Start, … now!"

Sandy was getting her hopes up with the way the conversation was going. She didn't mind oral sex, Puppy sure had her practicing a lot lately. He said start and she leaned forward to knee-walk to his voice. She promptly fell onto the floor, face first, the contest was over, she lost.

Aaron watched as Sandy tried to move without considering her unique bondage position. Essentially, she started in an upright, kneeling version of a hogtie. She fell forward, hard. Now, she was stuck, nothing would get her up and moving toward his cock. To move, she should have simply shuffled each leg forward and inch or so and then repeated the motion with the other leg. Maintaining balance meant keeping a slight backward lean. Aaron pulled off his belt and proceeded to whip her ass and the backs of her thighs. She needed punishing for failing so miserably.

Sandy heard a whistling sound and knew she was going to be whipped. The first line of fiery pain gripped her left ass cheek and she screamed. He struck her again and again. Sandy tried, but she couldn't move. Finally, it was over and his strong hands cupped her armpits and dragged her back to her original position.

"Slaves are stupid, mindless, fuckmeat. Is that you, Sandy? Are you just useless fuckmeat? One last chance. You better stop and think before you move. Fail again, and you join Cunt for a few weeks. Have you seen her new hairless look? Think, … fuckmeat or part time Mistress. Time starts, … now!"

This time Sandy held still and tried to clear her head. The pain was distracting and she had to focus past it. She let her hands grasp her ankles. With knees spread shoulder-width, and slightly leaning back, she felt stable. She tried to slide a knee and lower leg forward and inch or so. It worked. She was moving.

Aaron smiled as the confused slave crept slowly toward him. She would reach him within two minutes of the start. Knowing how well she did in her oral classes, Aaron was sure she could do an acceptable job in the last three minutes. If not, then he would cheat and give her a little more time. After all, he needed something from her. It was for the best if she thought her new position was earned. The downside was that Aaron was dead tired and he still needed to talk with Puppy about revising the training schedule for Sandy Hamilton and Barbara Michaels. Sandy would have to follow the same introductory training in being a Mistress that Ingrid had undergone. Plus, while Barbara had not undergone a breaking in, she still needed exercise. Aaron continued to be confused about what to do with Barbara. Thoughts such as, "What type sexual training do you give to a virgin? What break-in session should Puppy and I subject her to?" ran through his mind.

Sandy finally felt her knees slide under a bed frame and knew Aaron's legs were on either side of her. She had to commit herself. She leaned forward and nearly cried in relief when her chin hit his crotch. Fingers enclosed her skull and pulled her forward onto his cock. "Thank god," she thought, "at least he's going to do most of the work. All I have to do is suck him into my throat and massage his cock with my esophagus and mouth.

Aaron felt his dick leap down Sandy's throat from the strong suction. Within seconds, her throat and mouth were massaging him in unison. "Yes, it is great to be alive," he thought.

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 24 – Aaron's First Sale (or Not Exactly a Vacation Cruise)

Aaron shook hands with Stavros Demeter. The burly man smiled broadly and grabbed Aaron in a full bear hug. "Welcome my ship. Call cats a bastard and spit on rug!"

Uncertain what he meant, Aaron Clarke paused and looked around the captain's cabin for the meaning of the phrase. "He speaks good enough English, though with a heavy Greek accent; but, what's he mean?" Aaron thought to himself. The paneled room had shiny tile flooring; no cats or rugs were in sight.

Another huge officer introduced himself as Aristotelis Livanos, the First Officer. He grinned and roared, in an even worse accent, "Is joke! Old saying he don't say right in English. Means welcome; his home, your home."

The three stood on board the tramp freighter Saint Photius, a cargo ship owned by Niarchos Constantinople. The Greek shipping tycoon was an occasional customer of Aaron's partner, Steve Austin, and a lifelong friend to Hosni Yassin. Niarchos Constantinople accepted Hosni's request to transfer some hostess/party girls from Miami to his European corporate headquarters in France along with a large cargo of construction related equipment and supplies. Niarchos' obvious choice for the job was a tramp freighter, one with no established route; his most reliable captain for running expensive or illegal cargo was Stavros Demeter. Stavros and his key officers enjoyed the occasional mission to traffic in human flesh. They often had unrestricted use of the women during the relatively slow transoceanic voyage.

Stavros and Aristotelis led Aaron into an adjoining room, the senior officers' mess. Two other senior members of the crew were already seated and the Chief Steward stood by to provide service as needed. The First Officer made the introductions. The Second Officer was Herodotus Halicarnassus and the First Mate was introduced simply as Ferero. Ferero, a Filipino, was the only non-Greek senior member of the crew. The Chief Steward was identified as Alcibiades. The only slender members of the crew were the First Mate and Chief Steward. The other three officers were huge, hulking brutes; powerful and intimidating.

Everyone sat while Alcibiades fussed with a platter of olives and pita bread and poured a triple shot of Ouzo for everyone at the table, and surprisingly, himself. Alcibiades sat farthest away from the Captain, indicating his position as the least senior.

Captain Demeter silently picked up his glass and solemnly said, "To world peace." He started laughing half way through his toast and then continued, "No, … we drink to good wind, smooth sailing, and lottsa fucking." With that, he downed the drink and slapped Aaron on the back with a ham-sized hand. "Our friend here gonna make this fun trip for us."

Aaron and the others at the table downed the fiery spirits in one belt. While Aaron was still trying to recover from the poisonous drink, the Captain slammed his back and laughed again. Everyone settled down while Alcibiades poured another, less generous round of drinks.

In his heavily accented English, Captain Demeter explained how things would work on this voyage. Aaron's daughter Laurena and Shelby McCullough, her baby sitter, were already onboard in one of the four passenger cabins on the freighter. They would receive service much as any passenger on a cruise liner, except that there would be no entertainment. The food was described as excellent and the cabin service included fresh flowers and fruit daily with cleaning service from a steward. The freighter even had a small topside pool that once underway, would be pumped full of ocean water and heated. Passengers had full access to the bridge and the top decks of the aft sections where the passenger rooms and lounges were. The officers' area and mess under the forecastle were off limits and for this voyage, access to that private area was limited to a single entry with a crew member on hand at all times. The setup prevented the nanny, or any other passenger, from stumbling into something best kept secret.

The Captain stated that the four women would be chained in officer's cabins during the entire voyage. Only the crew members currently in the room would benefit from their presence. Captain Demeter would take first choice of women each day, followed by the First Officer and then the Second Officer. The First Mate and Chief Steward would share the last woman. Buddies for many years, the Filipino and his Greek friend worked women together. They tended to prefer bondage and double penetration.

Aaron suggested that one of his 'girls' was perfect for Ferero and Alcibiades. He described how Veronica was destined to be the punishment whore for any of Hosni's rich quests into S&M or B&D. He volunteered that she was actually best suited of the four for this role. The other three women were to be the hostesses in Hosni's clubhouse/brothel and used according to the client's needs. Sex was not always the result. Often, simple companionship through dinner and dancing was all Hosni would require. However, as owned chattel, they would do as directed.

Aaron found himself enjoying the company of the three officers. They were much smarter and friendlier than their appearances suggested. The First Mate and the Chief Steward were different; both were ferret-like in appearance and personality. Veronica would have a rough time with them. Aaron only felt it necessary to relay Hosni Yassin's rules for the voyage because of these two men. Hosni wanted his three main girls clean and unmarked at the end of the ocean crossing. His whip bitch, Veronica, could be marked from punishment sessions, but nothing permanent. Condoms were required in all sex acts and the crew was forbidden to join in. Aaron described the basic characteristics of each woman:

Emily Davis, party girl / trophy housewife - 26, blonde – hostess/whore
Pamela Bondi, party girl - 25, brunette – hostess/whore
June Curl, girlfriend to drug dealer - 25, black-hair – hostess/whore
Veronica Morton, Aaron's ex-wife, a bitch - 23, blonde - bondage/pain slut

Captain Demeter pointed to a bulging bag by his feet. "Is payment from Hosni Yassin. You take and we bring beetches in for inspection. Am thinking I will have this trophy girl wife. She sound perfect. Maybe I keep blonde for entire voyage. She can clean my cabin." He laughed at this last statement as if it were a joke of some sort. The room was full of happy Greek giants.

Aaron thought how well broken in the four new slaves would be after ten days of the three giant Greeks and the twisted First Mate and Chief Steward.

His thoughts were interrupted by the First Mate rising and Captain Demeter's, "Aaron, friend, you and Ferero fetch women. He get girls in with nanny no see."

Aaron and Ferero walked through the ship and down the gangplank to the pier side. Aaron understood what Ferero was up to as soon as he saw that a loading crane had already placed an open shipping container next to his parked van. Aaron unlocked the vehicle and threw in his bag of money; $150,000 in cash for each of the women, $600,000 in total. He eased the vehicle into the container, set the brake, and placed the vehicle into park. There was no room inside to open his door, so he climbed through the van toward the rear doors. The container lurched upward and began to move smoothly to the ship and a spot free on the forecastle. Aaron saw the wharf recede and then only saw sky and water as the container glided through the still evening air. Aaron barely felt the van jostle as the container settled down to the deck next to the forecastle.

Ferero opened the back of the van and welcomed Aaron aboard again with a gap-toothed grin. He peered evilly past Aaron to the gloomy interior of the van.

Aaron Clarke busied himself with freeing the four slaves from their bindings. Ingrid and Puppy had prepared the women differently for the ocean voyage. Each woman still wore a programmable dog-training collar and sat astride a long roll of carpet that ran the length of the van from behind the driver's seat. Facing rearward, each woman was attached to the van's floor with short chains to leg cuffs and their arms outstretched to the side by chains to wrist cuffs. Aaron first freed Emily Davis and then Pamela Bondi. He left only one padded leg cuff locked on. Otherwise, the women appeared ready for an evening out. They wore the nicest cocktail dresses that Ingrid and Puppy could scrounge from the extensive stocks of stolen clothing. The only thing that kept the women from looking completely normal was the leash attached to each collar. They were gorgeous.

June Curl was next out. Unlike Emily and Pamela, June was outfitted in the street outfit of a common whore. She wore a tiny pink spandex miniskirt and a micro tube top that exposed her entire midriff. The heavy, whorish makeup matched the outfit perfectly. Aaron handed her leash over to Ferero and turned to get his ex-wife out of the van.

Veronica was dressed as a bondage slut. She was a wet-dream come to life. Ingrid set her up in four-inch black stiletto heels with padlocks at the ankles. Just above the heels were black padded ankle cuffs with an eighteen-inch hobble chain between them. For panties, she wore a white floss g-string with micro floss front; it barely covered her hairless pussy slit. Her impressive breasts were in full view, lifted up by her black bustier. Freshly pierced, each fat nipple was adorned with a shiny gold ring. Veronica still wore her black dog-training collar. Her head was enclosed in a black discipline hood with the eye closures zipped shut and a ring-gag in her mouth. Veronica's beautiful blonde hair flopped out loose from an opening in the back of her hood. Her wrists were tightly cuffed behind her back.

Aaron's dick twitched at the sight of his ex-wife. Her perfect ass was fully displayed. He thought the Chief Steward and First Mate would be fucking her within minutes of the Captain releasing her for their use. "Of course," he thought, "perhaps the Captain would change his mind and demand first choice on all the girls. I would."

Aaron took Emily and Pamela's leashes and let Ferero take Veronica and June into the ship. "Bet it takes a lot to put Ferero in this much shock," Aaron thought with a laugh. He picked up the girls' single bulky bag and yanked on the leashes to get the two remaining girls moving. It was time to conclude this transaction.

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

Ingrid Gaviard and Sandy Hamilton sat quietly waiting early Saturday morning for their Master (known to them as Michael Moore) and Mistress. Ingrid just been told the change in plans with regard to Sandy, her former tormenter and recently, her slave. Sandy was ecstatic at the possibilities. Prior to her abduction by Aaron, Sandy became hooked on dominating and humiliating other women. She thoroughly enjoyed the two outings with Ingrid when she made her whore and then subjected her to abuse. It was easy to accept slavery if it meant escape from the very thing she enjoyed inflicting upon others.

Puppy and Aaron sat down before them. Aaron explained that in a few days he was going on a business trip and would bring one slave with him. The trip might be difficult for the woman, but there would be moments of near freedom and a chance for sexual gratification. "The problem is, I don't know which of you two to pick," Aaron explained. "The best way to decide is with a contest. Puppy will judge, her decision is final."

Ingrid and Sandy nodded their understanding of that part of the contest. Each wondered, with some trepidation, what the other phases were. With Master, there was bound to be a surprise.

"The first part of the contest begins in one hour. Puppy has already modified the morning's training schedule so that this will work out. You will each cooperate in preparing the other to the specifications on this sheet. Good luck." Aaron handed each girl an identical sheet of paper and he left with Puppy. The two girls were left alone in Bedroom 4B. Everything they would need was laid out on the bed or at the makeup vanity.

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

One hour later, Aaron and Puppy sat in comfortable chairs on Training Pad H with Katria and Wanda. The two slaves knelt naked, under the punishment cage. An array of punishment items were displayed behind them on a table. Cunt came around the corner leading two bitches on leash leads that Katria and Wanda had never seen.

The slaves were identical. Each had long red hair that fell below their black leather discipline hoods in a long ponytail. The hoods already had the Velcro eyepieces that completely cut off any vision. Penis-shaped dildo gags were stuck deep into each mouth. Other than the dog-training collars and the hoods, the slaves were naked. Each sported a naked cunt. One woman was slightly leaner and taller than the other was.

Cunt brought each slave to a dangling spreader bar and proceeded to secure the women. She took a wrist from the first slave and pulled it up to the bar. Each wrist was attached overhead at a spacing of about three feet. She then cuffed each girl's ankles to a spreader bar already chained to the floor beneath their feet. Cunt then tightened the dangling spreader bar until the women were raised up to their tiptoes. Ingrid and Sandy knew their fate from the note given them by Aaron. The slaves Katria and Wanda were to take turns punishing each woman in an identical manner. The first to cry out lost the event and would receive extra punishment. The determination of Sandy and Ingrid to leave on a trip with their Master would decide how much pain they were willing to receive.

Sandy was sure she would win this event. "After all," she thought, "I've been subjected to this since I got here. Ingrid never even got the full introductory session I got. Yes, she is doomed." She felt the cool leather against her breasts but couldn't move at all. Cunt had secured her well. Ingrid had filled her ears with warmed beeswax and she couldn't hear a thing. That and the blindfold isolated her. Sandy was a little uncertain how she would know when Ingrid gave up. Blind and deaf, she waited in fear. Fumbling around her neck let her know the gag would soon be off. The contest was nearly ready to begin.

Aaron's thought process for blinding the two for the contest and removing their hearing was to increase their fear and keep them from cuing each other about the next punishment. The deafness took away all audio warning that the punishment device might make.

Ingrid was fearful that she couldn't hold out. Unlike Sandy, she realized that she hadn't been subjected to much actual punishment here at the warehouse. "My gag is being loosened. It must be nearly time."

Katria stood behind the hooded woman with the fullest ass and prepared to deal out ten blows with a riding crop. She was told to go only for the outsides of the slave's butt cheeks. Further, both Katria and Wanda were told to evenly apply the mandated punishment on the unreliable slaves. Puppy would evaluate them on their performance. Katria began with a blow exactly on the point of ass that protruded most. She continued, …

Sandy's clogged ears gave her no warning. "Eiiiii," she shouted to herself. "Fuck, that was a surprise. Ahhh, that's two. She knew nothing about their pending punishments except that each was to receive exactly the same. Sandy now knew that it was a crop. "This, I can take, ahhh, with no problem," she thought. It was quickly over; ten strokes were only a warm-up for her.

Aaron watched as Katria finished up with Sandy and moved over to Ingrid. Simultaneously, Wanda came up and set a bucket of sixty clothespins down between Sandy's legs. Puppy's instructions were to put ten inside each inner thigh, ten under each upper arm, and ten on each tittie.

Before Sandy got a chance to congratulate herself on round one, she felt a pinch inside a thigh. It didn't go away. Then she felt another. None of them actually hurt, but the throbbing built up. Then a set of fingers pinched her nipple and pulled her hefty tit away from her body. She felt a pinch at the base of her breast, then the top, then on each side. Her titty was being ringed with clothespins. To the blinded captive, the whipping warmed up her nerves and the clothespins electrified them. She felt hyper sensitized. It was hard to stay still.

Ingrid stoically took her cropping. It was brief and after the first shock, bearable. The clothespins hurt, but she knew it would take far more to keep her from beating the other slave. Ingrid still harbored deep resentment against Sandy for role against her at the bar and then her own home.

Katria was back to Sandy. This time she had a small bowl of toothed clamps. They were to go six per labia lip, four around the belly button, and one per nipple. As before, Sandy felt someone's hands pinch her, this time on the cunt lip. Then, "Christ, that hurt!" she moaned to herself as the teeth bit into her tender flesh. Within seconds, she felt another. "Ahhh, this is going to be harder than I thought. I don't even have the satisfaction of watching that slut cringe more than me. Ughhh," she continued to rant and rave to herself. Outwardly, she remained quiet.

Katria and Wanda's Torture Instructions:

1-Katria – Ten paddles with crop

2-Wanda – Sixty clothespins

3-Katria – Twelve alligator clamps with teeth

4-Wanda – Pull back heads with line from hood to foot spreader bar

5-Katria – Tie lines to nipple clamps and tighten to overhead spreader bar

6-Wanda – Tie lines to labia and tighten to foot spreader bar

7-Katria – Whip ten strokes across back with carriage whip

8-Wanda – Tighten overhead bar to raise feet off floor

9-Katria – Set trough under each girl

10-Wanda – Wrap breasts with thin bondage line

11a-Katria – Insert douche nozzle into ass start two-quart enema

11b-Katria – Rub slave's belly for five minutes

12a-Wanda – Insert douche nozzle into other slave, start two-quart enema

12b-Wanda – Rub belly of slave for five minutes

13-Katria – Paint liniment onto exposed pussy flesh of each slave

14-Wanda – Rinse shit from enema off slave's legs to trough below

15-Katria – Rinse shit from enema off slave's legs to trough below

16-Wanda – Start next enema (mild Thai Hot Sauce solution)

17-Katria – Start next enema (mild Thai Hot Sauce solution)

18-Wanda – Whip with crop and knock off clothespins (ten on one leg)

19-Katria – Whip off next ten clothespins (ten on other leg)

20-Wanda – Whip off next ten clothespins (ten under one arm)

21-Katria – Whip off next ten clothespins (ten under other arm)

22-Wanda – Whip bound breast till ten clothespins fly off

23-Katria – Whip other bound breast till last clothespin is gone

24-Wanda – Use riding crop directly on pussy lips

Ingrid moaned softly. Her left tit was starting to engorge with blood. Soon, her right tit would be bound the same way. Already, someone was yanking it around to wrap a rope tightly around its base. The movement jostled the painful clothespins. It hurt, but was still bearable. Her body was stretched so tight that breathing was difficult. She felt a set of hands fumbling around her ass. "A woman's hands?" she asked herself. Something was being inserted into her ass. "It's not long," she thought. "What is it?" Something made the thing in her ass start to inflate and Ingrid hoped it was a butt plug and not an enema tube. Something started to drip into her ass and she knew it was a warm water enema. Almost instantly, her intestines started to cramp painfully. In her outstretched position, she couldn't move to relieve the cramps. A naked woman pressed up behind her and wrapped her arms around to her belly. The hands provided blessed relief as her bowels protested the warm solution. Ingrid was worried that relief now meant something far worse to come. It was almost as though Master wanted them to stay in the game longer. The cramping leveled off and the massaging hands kept it from worsening. The warm solution was easily felt as it swirled though her lower intestine.

The woman rubbing her tummy stopped and the hands returned to her ass. The plug loosened and the cramping slowly started to intensify. Her ass grommet, stretched for only a few minutes, was struggling to hold the enema solution inside. "Oh, my," she told herself, "now is when I need the massaging hands." She was right; the hands only eased the cramps during the flow into her intestines. Now that she was full, she needed the hands again.

"What's going on by my pussy," Ingrid asked herself. She felt something brush across one cunt lip and then the other. Finally, a third stroke crossed her partially open pussy entrance. The lips felt cool and then warm. "Oh, Fuck! Fuck! You bastard!" she could only shriek internally as the heat built up. There was no doubt that the furnace stoking up in her cunt was from liniment, albeit a small dose compared to the normal dildo load. "Eiii," it hurt so much that, while still silent, her spasming belly finally defeated her hold on the churning mass inside. Shit squirted liquidly shit out her ass and ran hotly down her legs. It was almost unnoticeable against the pain from her cunt. The smell couldn't be escaped though.

Sandy was in exactly the same situation. She also knew quickly that the gentile strokes across her lips and cunt meant trouble. Her enema was held back just a few seconds longer than Ingrid's; but squirt it did.

Each pain wracked slave felt warm water sliding down their lower bodies, sluicing off the stinking shit. The relief was only temporary as each soon felt the enema nozzle reinserted and the renewed flow of warm fluid into their intestines. This time, there were no gentle hands to ease the entry. "At least now, I'm empty. It shouldn't cramp so bad," reflected Ingrid. Then the burning sensation from her pussy was exceeded by that of her entire intestinal tract. It started off hot and rapidly felt like a blast furnace inside her. "Ahhh, ohhh. Fuck me it hurts," Ingrid's brain was overloaded with pain from her throbbing breasts, the stretched tight nipples and cunt lips that tortured her with every tiny movement, and her belly, intestine, and cunt. Pain was everywhere. Even her neck hurt from the painful backward pull on her helmet.

Pain exploded on an inner thigh. Again and again, she felt the strongly stinging blows. Ingrid couldn't tell, but the inexpert blows of Wanda were knocking the clothespins off her leg. After a few seconds of reprise, the blows started up on her other leg. Katria was no better with the crop. It took many more than ten blows by each girl to remove the twenty clothespins on her legs. Each spot continued to ache from the blows of the crop and the residual pain from the clamped wooden jaws. Ingrid was close to calling it quits. The pain was simply overwhelming her ability to will it away.

Sandy was in slightly better shape. A little more used to recent abuse than Ingrid was; nonetheless, the pain was building for Sandy. Then the blows started on her tender inner arm area. It was nearly too much. Unable to concentrate enough to prepare her for the next area to be struck, it was a total surprise to Sandy when the blows shifted to her right breast. She screamed in pain as her punisher missed the clothespin and struck the already outstretched nipple. The crop struck again, and again. More shrieks of pain and Sandy started to beg for release. "Enough, enough, Master. Mercy Master. Enough." Her voice weakened in agony and the humiliation of defeat. Even blind and deaf, she was certain she lost the battle. The blows stopped.

Ingrid noticed that the painful blows to her breast had stopped. It was silent. She started weeping, certain that she had cried out and lost. "Why else would the contest have ended?" she asked herself.

Aaron commanded Katria and Wanda to release the painful Thai Chili Sauce enema and flush out the women with a third, soothing enema. It would provide nearly instant release from the intestinal pain. While this was filling their bellies, the remainder of the clamps and lines were removed. Each remained blind and deaf. Finally, the last enema exploded out of their asses and each was rinsed off and taken down from the spreader bars.

Katria took Ingrid and Wanda took Sandy back to the bedroom area. Katria was to keep Ingrid in Bedroom 4A for the remainder of the day. She was to be bathed and pampered. The wax filling her ears was flushed out with warm water and Katria used her considerable sexual skills to wear out Ingrid sexually. Each slept chained in their bed. Katria had realized with horror that she had punished a Mistress when she unlaced the hood from the sweaty woman. If anything, it increased her respect for the two women who held out so valiantly against the painful torture. The two spent a relaxing and satisfying afternoon in bed.

Sandy, despite losing the contest was treated the same. She enjoyed the feel of the voluptuous Wanda. The woman had become skilled beyond imagination in oral sex. To Sandy, the juxtaposition of endless pleasure after her overwhelmingly painful experience made the sex all the sweeter. She may have lost the contest, but she had more climaxes and deeper releases than Ingrid. Sandy and Wanda were dead to the world when awakened for dinner.

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

It was the most unusual dinner that had ever taken place in the East Coast Slavers' warehouse. Aaron presided at the head of the table and a strange, mixed cast of players sat with him. Michael Mueller, fully dressed, sat with his feet cuffed to his chair at the opposite end of the long table. Puppy sat at Aaron's right hand side and Ingrid and Sandy sat to the right of Puppy. On the other side of the table were Regina Tyre (the brunette lawyer and representative of the Florida Bureau of Statewide Prosecution), Helen Powell (the black-haired member of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement), and Karen Rigden (the blonde undercover agent from the Customs Immigration and Enforcement Office. The last three women were also dressed in simple, but expensive, dresses taken from the defunct dress shop business of Cunt (formerly the beautiful, blonde-headed Belinda Maticevski). Cunt stood beside the table to provide service as required. Wanda Alvernon and Katria Sjogreen, the two soon to be high-priced companion slaves, were busy in the kitchen with dinner preparation.

Aaron raised his glass of red wine and said, "I propose a toast to our brave Helen and Regina who helped set the stage for the death of a drug lord and the downfall of his organization."

Still stunned and uncertain why they were at the table, Michael Mueller, the drug dealer's accountant, Karen, Helen, and Regina joined Aaron, Puppy, Ingrid, and Sandy in the toast.

Regina, the ever-sharp lawyer, remembered back to the rape in the van when she thought that cooperating with her captor might give her an edge to use later. In the long days since her abduction, rape, and introductory training, she had been unable to gain even the beginning of an opportunity. Instead, he kept all the women off-balance and uncertain about their future. "This meeting might change our destinies," she thought. The feeling of clothing recharged her and she regained some of her lost alertness.

The glass was again raised. "To your chance for a future." They all drank, each a little more eagerly than during the first toast. "Of course," Aaron added dryly, "there is always a cost for greater freedom. I think you will pay the price."

Mystified, but hopeful, the four captives sat silently as the first course came out. Cunt remained silent and respectful. The hairless, huge-breasted woman dished out salad and set down a basket of rolls before backing into a corner to await her next command.

After the salad, Aaron started in on his meal. He would explain what he had in mind slowly to allow everyone to digest the implications. Because of his rapid acquisition of wealth, he decided to rethink the entire mission of East Coast Slavers. Aaron now thought that destruction of evil in the form of organized and corporate white-collar crime would provide a ready source of income and guilty slaves deserving of punishment. He felt it best to punish the arrogant and guilty while somewhat protecting the innocent. The three law enforcement agents, Ingrid, and Sandy fit within that category. Of course, East Coast Slavers would not cease to exist; it would continue to fill orders for Steve Austin on the west coast. Aaron thought that the sale of the three women drawn too deeply into the drug world to the Egyptian as slaves was appropriate under his new moral thinking. Of course, Veronica's conversion to a bondage slave was proper given her complete alienation of Aaron as a husband and father.

"Michael has been working hard on a project this past week. I understand he has been enjoying the perks; at least, until yesterday when we delivered his playmates to the freighter," Aaron said. "Starting tomorrow, our three law enforcement agents will help him by reviewing his testimony and help adjust things for a masterful video confession of his crimes and detailed knowledge of the drug organization here in Florida. Ladies, he will backtrack the drug trail through the entire transit zone and purge himself of all knowledge of the source zone. You three have the chance to become heroes in the law enforcement world with this information. Later tonight I will break down the details for each of you in terms of what price you pay to take this video and evidence back to the real world."

Michael had some inkling that a release was possible as a result of his week's labor. Karen, Helen, and Regina were dumbfounded. They were afraid to fully believe it. Regina was the first among the four to speak during that meal. "Bbut, Master, how can you trust us enough to release everyone?" she asked.

"Insurance, dear, … insurance. Sorry Karen, but as Helen and Regina have already completed a hazardous, and rather unpleasant mission for me, they will take the video and evidence to the F.B.I. in Quantico, Virginia. There they will spin an artful tale of your successful undercover operation and the task force compromise by an incompetent Miami police force. The story will be that Karen heroically rescued Regina and Helen and delivered a captured drug accountant into their hands. You two will interrogate Michael in hiding because of your location; hidden on their drug vessel enroute to Cartegena, Colombia. Thus, you explain your inability to contact your agencies. In order to keep you safe and allow you to gather this evidence against these drug lords, Karen will have to remain undercover as the confidant to one of Oscar Lynden's key South American contacts. Karen, as his newfound lover will disappear with him into the jungles of Colombia. Later, one of you will come here in her stead and she will emerge to get her heroics appreciated by the F.B.I."

Again Regina spoke first. "This won't work, Master. How can we explain our own disappearance to take Karen's place?"

"Well, girls, it is the federal government that you will work for. When Helen and Regina join the F.B.I., you arrange with civilian personnel to share two job slots among the three of you. Women in federal service often do that to accommodate the demands of children and a professional life. I think four-month rotations will work fine. The one that remains here belongs to our organization. Therefore, you each get eight months of free time. If you want, we can talk about a six-month period as hostage and one year of freedom in between. However we do that, Karen will be the first 'hostage' for your good behavior. A sort of velvet prison thing; like in the Middle Ages."

Aaron looked at the silent women as they digested this mixed piece of news. Clearly, they were eager to escape. This need was offset by the fear of returning to allow another to go free. It was a tough decision.

"You don't realize this, but your role in the downfall of Oscar and his empire has made me very rich. Because of this, I am willing to make you this offer plus set aside money for your retirement. The amount and timing of this retirement fund is private for our discussion only. My arrangement with the accountant will be similar, but he will have an enjoyable, but supervised, exile period before he is free to rejoin society. Helen and Regina will have to set the stage for his eventual return by highlighting his willingness to help you once Karen here captured him."

Aaron Clarke already knew the amount of money he would place in each of the law enforcement agents' accounts. They would receive three hundred thousand dollars each, well hidden in an offshore account. Additional funds would be deposited each time the agents completed assigned tasks. If they stood behind their oaths, they would end up well compensated.

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

Aaron leaned back in his chair and looked at Puppy, Ingrid, and Sandy. It was time to explain their role in his post epiphany period. "Ingrid, you and Sandy belong to Puppy and I. You are our slaves. However, I am also willing to work out an arrangement with you two as well. This week I will set up an offshore account for each of you. Ingrid's account will contain her stolen inheritance plus one million dollars. Sandy, your account will start at one million. In five years time, you are each free to leave, or renegotiate your service to Puppy and I. In the meantime, nothing changes in your daily lives. You will keep your mandatory high standards or you will slip down in category through the various levels of slavery. Of course, even if you fail me utterly and become street whores in Bangkok, you will come back here for your freedom in five years. How you spend the interim time-frame is up to each of you."

Ingrid stood up and walked over to kneel by her Master. "Master, thank you. I will continue to do my best in your service.

Sandy also stood up and knelt down on the other side of Aaron. She made the same vow and placed her head on his lap.

Aaron glanced over at Puppy and smiled. He placed a hand on the heads of each of his number one slaves and blew Puppy a kiss. "Yes," he told himself, "life is fucking great."

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 25 – On the High Seas (or Michigan Never Looked Better)

Veronica heard a thump and all sense of movement ended. She knew only that it was Friday night and she was being delivered to a ship for transport as a slave. She blindly turned her head from side to side, seeking some indication of what was going on. Sweat burned her eyes under the hot bondage helmet and her arms ached from their outstretched position. Someone's hands fumbled with the locks securing her feet and then her arms fell numbly to her side as the wrist chains holding her arms extended in the van were freed in a clash of metal on metal. Her husband, she thought, yanked her arms behind her back and roughly cuffed them in place. Then her collar yanked her forward. She blindly followed where she was led.

Twice, she halted so that her feet could feel their way over a high threshold and her head was ducked down. Then, she continued walking on steel decks. She knew that the ship would deliver he away from America and her old life. Eventually, they stopped her and she stood still, fearfully wondering what was going to happen next in the never-ending nightmare in which she was stuck.

Unknown to Veronica, she stood in the Officers' Mess being scrutinized by the men in whose hands her husband placed her fate during the ocean voyage. She heard a gruff and powerful voice say, "Your wife?" A giant hand covered her breast and squeezed till she thought her tit would explode. Veronica felt the hard flooring thump against her knees as the pain took her breath away and she fell down. The voice continued, "Is hot stuff. We will enjoy kinky bitch."

She moaned in relief as the hand left her; breast still throbbing in remembered anguish. Footsteps drifted away. A loud slap reached her ears and Veronica heard a moan of pain. Her husband spoke next, "Captain, remember if you want to take it out on someone, use the bondage slut. The other girls must be unmarked or your boss, Niarchos Constantinople, will have to reimburse Hosni Yassin for the damages.

Another gruff voice spoke up, "Is no problem, friend. We know rules. Captain just like to get off on right start with whores. Is just to establish they place here."

Two other quick slaps followed. Veronica heard quiet sobbing. "The collars must be off now," she thought. "Aahoon, heeep, heee. Hease. Horry, Aahoon," she tried a last time to get sympathy from her ex-husband.

Aaron spoke again, "Captain, you've all made your first choices then?"

"Yes. You go soon?"

"I just want to say goodbye one last time to the slut here. Ferero, Alcibiades, do you mind setting her up in your cabin for a last goodbye? Just leave her there, please."

Veronica felt strong hands grasp her shoulders and heave her upright. Her high-heels dragged across the floor as they hauled her away. Veronica broke down into endless sobs; unable to control any part of her fate.

The two men, Ferero and Alcibiades she thought, threw her onto a mattress. Arms cuffed behind her, she laid helplessly, her belly against a long-wide pillow, and her feet outstretched to the sides of the bed. Even blindfolded, she wondered how such a large bed got onto a ship. From her feet's positions, it was easily a king-size bed. The bed sagged on either side of her. Someone grabbed her ponytail and tied it to something. Her head was drawn back painfully and from the tugging at her wrists, she realized that the end of the line holding her head back was tightened around her wrist cuffs. The men fumbled at the laces of her corset and the bustier loosened before it was yanked from under her belly.

Ferero sat on her ass and forced her shoulders up and back, bowing her body in a painful arch. Veronica still hadn't seen her abusers. Alcibiades took a ten-foot section of thin braided nylon line and tied a slipknot in the end. Veronica felt the loop encircle her right breast just where the meat met her chest. Alcibiades tugged it tight with all his wiry strength and wound it round and round from the base of her breast up toward the nipple. Veronica felt her titty swell with trapped blood and then it felt as if thousands of tiny needles were prickling it as the wraps forced more and more blood up to the top of her breast.

Alcibiades took up another line and continued his work on the other breast.

Veronica heard herself moan piteously. She realized that nobody would give her mercy. The hands kept her back arched as her breasts were bound tighter and tighter. "Uggghhh. Hop hit. Heep!" Her body was released and her breasts thumped against the bed's cover. The line holding her head back then started to hurt. "My tits. Oh, how they ache. You fuckers," she cried to herself.

The cabin door slammed shut. Veronica felt alone and abandoned. She cried, tears flowed under her hot, tight hood down to her chin and then her neck.

After a few minutes, the door opened again but Veronica couldn't hear anyone enter the room. Her rasping breath was the only sound in the quiet place. Suddenly, light exploded through her eye slits and Aaron's face was just inches away. His head blocked her view and she felt a tongue enter her gapping mouth and dance with her own tongue. Despite her wide-open jaws, Veronica desperately tried to suck his tongue in. It was Aaron, her ex-husband. Her goal was to get him to talk and let her loose. Her tongue fought its way past his and into Aaron's mouth. He stopped kissing her and she mewed with dismay.

"Veronica, I want you to know that I haven't completely abandoned you. I had the terms of your bill of sale changed. Your ownership reverts to me after five years of slavery with your new owner, an Egyptian named Mr. Hosni Yassin. Think of it as a period of forced indentured service. After those five years, you come home, to me. You should realize, I will have to purchase you back from him at fair market price. I hope that you'll have changed for the better. That's when we will decide on your new status; free woman, servant, or slave."

Veronica felt him loosen the line holding her head back and felt momentary relief that he was releasing her. The sound of Aaron's zipper opening dispelled her of that fantasy. His hands fumbled at her ass and she felt him glide smoothly into her pussy in one long stroke. "I must be dripping wet for his monster cock to slide in so easily. Veronica, you are becoming a slut," she told herself. Determined to be a good fuck, she fought to raise her ass to even further seat his plunging dick into her throbbing pussy. Despite her logical and calculating intent, Veronica started to enjoy the stimulation; her pussy loosened further, and its musky juice started to dribble out.

Aaron's hands slipped under her chest and grabbed her aching bound tits in a brutal grip, far more powerful than the ship's Captain had subjected her to. Veronica screamed from the pain, losing her beginnings of a climax. The excruciating ache masked any sense of pleasure from her wet and sloppy pussy.

After Aaron left her weeping on the bed, unsatisfied, she felt his gooey jism start to flow out of her gapping cunt and dribble down her hairless pubic mound. It puddled under her belly. Her right ass cheek still ached from the stinging blow he gave her in parting and his hurtful comment about how she "needed to learn to enjoy the taste of latex condoms." He told her that his dick might be the last to ever bareback fuck her, as "nobody would ever dare sink his bare dick into a whore like her without protection."

"At least he took off the hood and my breast bondage," she thought with some relief. Her long blonde hair was now loosely held in a ponytail by an elastic band. She could at least rest in her present minimal bondage.

Hours later, she woke to the sounds of two men stumbling around the cabin. "They're drunk," she thought.

"Ferero," one of the men started, "there's a cunt on our bed."

Veronica blinked in dismay at the thought of two men sharing her at once in their bed during her voyage. She thought them both unsavory looking characters. Each was similar in build – short, thin, and of dark complexion.

"Idiot, is why we came back to ship tonight. Alcibiades, no need for whores when we have own girl here waiting."

"Alcibiades sounds Greek. The other is from another country; but I can't tell by the accent," Veronica thought.

The first man to speak, Alcibiades, unbuckled his belt and grabbing the buckle in his right hand, wrapped a loop of the leather around his clenched fist. He swished the belt and it sang through the air.

Veronica turned toward Ferero and saw him mirroring his friend's movements. Each took up a position on a different side of her ass. "Hooo, hoooo," Veronica tried to cry. Simultaneous blows across both cheeks of her ass took her breath away. She was so stunned that she couldn't begin to shriek until each man made his third blow to her ass, each working in perfect unison. With her hands bound behind her, Veronica's shoulders bounced around on the bed as she tried in vain to escape the blows. It was over quickly, but Veronica continued to sob in pain.

She felt the bed sag on her right and looked to see the man with the unidentifiable accent, Ferero, kneeling there naked, sliding a condom on his dick. His cock was nowhere as long as Aaron's; but, its six-inch length was more than offset by it's inhumanly wide-girth. The cock was bigger around than a soda can and curved up to an abnormally small head. Its geometry was so out of perforation that it looked more like something a troll would have as a horn rather than a sex organ. He grinned evilly at her.

Alcibiades grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up off the bed, sore breasts swinging. Veronica saw Ferero swat the bed-wide pillow out from under her belly and he spun around, throwing his legs between hers. Veronica's legs were still anchored to the sides of the bed's footboard. Alcibiades set her down atop his friend and bedmate, Ferero.

Ferero's hand guided his monstrosity of a cock to her wet cunt and nodded to his friend. Alcibiades lowered her until her stretched cunt stopped her descent, only half full of Filipino dick.

Veronica wailed through her ringgag and looked back to see what Alcibiades was up to. He pulled off his trousers and his dick uncoiled. He had no underwear on. Veronica looked in disbelief at the exposed cock. It was so unlike Ferero's that it would have been worth laughing about in any other circumstance. Alcibiades' dick was absurdly thin, no more than an inch in diameter. Its length was amazing, easily twelve inches long. Veronica watched as the long hose of a cock bobbled around, rubber-like rather than hard like the cock punching into her cunt. Alcibiades slathered a handful of thick goopy gel that looked like Vaseline along his snake-like dick and grinned down at her horrified face. He was obviously unable to fit a condom to his deformed cock.

Veronica turned her head away from the sight and looked down at the short man under her. His hands were crushing her breasts against his face and his teeth were nipping at the fat meat. Her head swung straight back and she groaned in pain as Alcibiades pushed down on her ass, fully seating the troll's horn into her cunt. Slimy fingers wormed their way around her ass and its tight brown sphincter. "Hooo, heeese. Hop hit," Veronica tried to scream to get their attention. "I need to be able to speak," she thought.

A pressure started to build against her butt and suddenly, at least four inches of thin cock snaked its way into her ass. Ferero lay passively under her as his friend wormed his way into her intestines. Veronica felt strong suction as the obscenely long dick worked its way back and forth into her rectum, ever deeper and deeper. She felt stuffed with cock.

After Alcibiades was fully-seated, he started a slow, even fucking pace that Ferero quickly matched. At first, the two fucked in perfect opposite action. As Alcibiades pulled out, he pushed her ass down on his friend. As Ferero pulled out, he pushed her ass up to meet his friend's downward-moving snake.

Veronica started to enjoy the tandem fuck. Her holes were only stuffed full one at a time and the flexible, thin shape of one cock smoothly slid in and out of her bowels without cramping. Ferero's fat cock stretched her pussy lips and brought her clit closer to the thin man's pubic bone. Inside her cunt, the curved horn scraped strongly against both the front and rear faces of her vaginal walls. She was getting plenty of stimulation. Veronica's sex holes were loosening up from the stimulation and the excess lubricant. Ferero's pubic bone was hitting her clit bruisingly hard; she liked it.

"Huck, huck, huck," Veronica started to chant.

Beneath her, Ferero's upthrust hips started to slip out of rhythm with his friend. Each now shifted into another practiced pattern. Now, two cocks started to fuck into Veronica's holes at once. Her hips were suspended in the air as the two cocks increased their pace and slammed in unison into her rectum and cunt.

Veronica exploded in orgasm just as the fuck pattern changed. Limp, she was unable to participate or resist as the two continued to hammer away at her. Another orgasm started to build up and Veronica cried in shame as she welcomed the stimulation. She slipped into unconsciousness after the third and most intense orgasm.

Midway through the night, she awoke to find her legs free and her arms stretched overhead toward the headboard. Ferero was unconscious on top of her, his fully erect dick still embedded in her aching pussy. Alcibiades snored beside her. Veronica wrapped her legs around the sleeping Filipino and she started to hump up against the sleeping man. Veronica felt the engines throb to life in the depths of the ship and soon they were underway. She slowly fucked herself through the night on the drunken First Mate's spike as he and Chief Steward slept through the ship's sailing.

Veronica Clarke (23), Emily Davis (26), Pamela Bondi (25), and June Curl (25) were beginning the adventure of their lives. It was not what they expected as a career; it was not as bad as they thought it would be. Each would find fulfillment in their own way. Life at Hosni Yassin's corporate headquarters would be low-key slavery and easy whoredom to bear for the four women. Even Veronica, the purported pain slut, would not be treated too badly. Hosni was not as jaded as he liked to think himself and neither were his European business customers.

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

Aaron Clarke sat down at the planning table on Sunday morning with his three remaining female prisoners from the raid against the Oscar Lynden drug organization. The intent of the meeting was to plan how to arrange for the return of two of the law enforcement officers to their careers while the third woman, undercover agent Karen Rigden, remained behind with Aaron as a hostage.

"The point is," Aaron began, "you have to have a plausible story to explain your absence and set the stage for Karen's eventual return. A good story is that a rouge element within a competing drug cartel attacked Oscar's organization. The best candidates are the enforcers from the Arellano Felix Organization, a major Mexican drug cartel. Say that they conducted the raids against Oscar Lynden's operations in Miami."

"Who are these people and why would this be believable," asked Regina, the lawyer from the Florida Office of Statewide Prosecution.

"The idea is to have a plausible story that provides law enforcement with the expectation of high value arrests and detailed information on another major trafficking organization. The Arellano Felix is a notably successful and extremely violent drug cartel that moves drugs into the U.S. from Mexico. They have a band of ex-Mexican Army Commandos, The Zetas (Last Ones) who act as enforcers and guarantors of drug shipments. They are known to have killed more than 100 people in the last five years while moving and protecting drug shipments. They also conduct murders, kidnappings, extortion, and auto theft. They are bad hombres that the U.S. would like to see taken out of business."

Helen listened intently. "But, what are the details and what concrete info do we return with?" she asked.

"The accountant, Michael Mueller, had extensive direct knowledge of the Arellano Felix cartel activities in Miami. We make sure that you have enough critical, time sensitive data to pass on to the authorities for immediate action. A key figure in the cartel, Osiel Cardenos, was sighted here with Arturo Guzman Decena, the leader of The Zetas. He is codenamed Zeta-1. The two are among the top ten on the DEA's Most Wanted List."

"You two, Helen and Regina, will make clear that they attacked James Lee, Oscar's top lieutenant, the night you were on duty. As part of this attack, your male comrade was overwhelmed and you were captured trying to protect your observation site after he left the outer door open. Later, you learn that Karen Rigden had successfully attached herself to one of the top Zetas, maybe Arturo Guzman Decena or Luis Alberto Guerrero (The Warrior), one of his most violent deputies. Karen ultimately helps you escape to a hide site. She convinces the accountant to join you two and turn state's evidence."

"Before you can escape from your hide site, the Zetas discover you and recapture all three of you (Helen, Regina, and Michael). You are beaten and tortured again until Karen manages to set up your escape once again, at great risk to her own life. You escape with the stashed evidence detailing names, addresses, bank accounts, transfer records, organizational structures, business methodology, etc."

Regina and Helen sat still and mulled over the plan concept. "Why didn't the cartel just kill us?" Regina asked.

"Good question," said Aaron. "First off, they will have told you of a reluctance to confront U.S. authorities directly and on U.S. soil. Thus the reason for leaving your male counterpart alive and lying in his own piss instead of a pool of blood. As to you two, you will show ample proof on your bodies of their attempts to torture you. Ultimately, the Arellano Felix Organization would have snuck you two into Mexico and snuffed you there."

Both Helen and Regina flinched. They each knew irrefutable evidence of torture was key to their credibility. Their proof of abuse along with critical intelligence on two major drug organizations would allow them to write their own ticket with the F.B.I. Aaron had already explained how Karen remained behind absolutely paranoid about someone alerting the drug lords as to her true identity, supposedly the same way Helen and Regina were compromised at the surveillance site. Helen and Regina would report that Karen refused to communicate with anyone except her two comrades.

Aaron set a mound of folders compiled by the drug lord's accountant onto the table. "Alright ladies," he said. "It's time to dig into the details. You two need to memorize this stuff before you get to go home." As he left the women to begin work, he tossed back a final comment, "And girls, don't worry about fresh signs of torture and abuse. Karen and I will take care of that for you." Aaron Clarke walked out of the room to meet next with Michael Mueller.

Michael Mueller would already have been executed by Aaron Clarke had the goals of the E.C.S.O. not been redefined. Michael's willing complicity with Oscar Lynden's drug organization was enough to warrant his death. Aaron's new challenge was how to turn the situation to his advantage. The detailed intelligence Michael compiled proved his usefulness to the drug cartel both as an accountant and as a manager of illicit funds. Aaron had already decided to invest his windfall profits, over $31 million from just the Lynden Organization, in a new Caribbean base and some diversified investments.

Recently a family-owned vineyard and winery in the Mendoza wine region of Argentina had come on the market. The well-known vineyards, El Campo de Diablo (The Devil's Fields), were renowned for their century-old Malbec, Cabernet, Zinfindel, and Viognier vines. The 450-acre estate was located twelve miles south of Mendoza at an elevation of 2,500 feet. The site had warm days and cool nights, perfect for developing robust varietal characteristics in wine grapes. The region is visually reminiscent of the California coastal wine production region.

The family winery located on El Campo de Diablo was named La Manera de Diablo (The Devil's Way). Both the primary winemaker and the vineyard manager indicated their willingness to remain, contingent upon approval of the purchasers. The operation needed a strong manager to oversee and direct all aspects of the business from the raising of grapes, and other farm crops, to marketing of the finished wines. Aaron thought that Michael Mueller would fill this position well.

Aaron's major challenge was to ensure that Michael remained on-site for his five-year period of controlled probation prior to his ultimate release. The nearby Mendoza Provincial Penitentiary and its chief operating officers, the Director and his Deputy Director, would serve to ensure Michael Mueller's compliance. Aaron's west coast partner, and trusted friend, had conducted previous business dealings with the two men. They were powerful and ruthless, controlling many legal and illegal businesses within the Mendoza region. Steve Austin, Aaron's partner, judged them dependable in that once bribed, they considered themselves honor-bound to fulfill their end of the bargain. With this recommendation, Aaron arranged for Michael to be placed under house arrest on the estate.

The new name for the estate, once Aaron closed on the acquisition, would become Montanya de Diablo (The Devil's Mountain). Aaron felt the continued multiple references to the devil appropriate considering his original business plan to establish a slavery operation.

Michael Mueller would soon begin his willing exile and work toward his eventual release and the lucrative reward promised at the end of five years. He also had the assurances of all three law enforcement agents that over time they would work hard to clear his name with U.S. authorities.

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

As the stay-behind hostage, law enforcement agent Karen Rigden was charged with making sure that no doubt would ever arise from Helen Powell and Regina Tyre's law enforcement associates as to the veracity of their torture and escape story. Aaron loved the sight of the conflicting emotions reflected in Karen's face as she contemplated her recommendations. It was clear that she didn't want to hurt her friends and yet the more obvious the abuse she meted out, the more truthful the concocted story would appear. Also, she was more than a little envious of their escape and fearful of what horrors she might face alone as a hostage to their good behavior. She steeled herself to approach her task without reservation or empathy.

Karen Rigden laid out her recommended torture plan for her associates on a typed memo emailed to Puppy and Aaron. With few modifications, the plan was approved and set into motion. The two women would be released before dawn the morning after their torture ordeal.

Karen Rigden and Ingrid Gaviard led the two law enforcement officers to the already prepared punishment site, Training Pad H – The Punishment Cage.

"Helen and Regina," Ingrid said as she pointed to the suspension system in the Punishment Cage, "strip down and cuff yourselves in."

Each of the 5'6" women bravely started to remove their clothing. Helen Powell wore only sandals and a simple one-piece dress. She stepped clear of her shoes, unbuttoned the top three buttons of her dress, and smoothly pulled it over her head, exposing her tiny black thatch of hair protecting her pubic mound. Helen trembled in fear and momentarily hesitated before she leaned down gracefully to lock her ankles into the already waiting leather cuffs chained to the floor. Her breasts jiggled enticingly as she stood erect and awkwardly latched a wristcuff onto her left wrist. Helen stood bravely awaiting help Karen's help with the last cuff and the start of the session.

Regina Tyre stood as if shell-shocked; not ready to willingly participate in getting ready for her own torture. As a young prosecutor, she was less prepared to face such a wretched physical fate than her better prepared friends, Helen or Karen, who had with actual field experience.

As Karen and Ingrid were now busy getting ready to begin, Aaron stepped forward and gently grasped Regina's upper arm. "Regina, forgive my joke about this earlier. What follows is necessary and will be as dispassionate as possible. We will avoid any further humiliation than is required to protect your cover story." Aaron calmly reached over and unzipped the side zipper on her cute red skirt. It fluttered down the brunette's legs to form a soft mound around her shoes.

Regina just stood there as Aaron slowly undid the row of buttons on her blouse. Her soft tits became exposed as the blouse opened up, teasingly slow from top to bottom, before the white blouse slid down her unresisting shoulders and arms to settle limply on the floor.

Aaron cupped a hand on one shapely lower leg while he took off one of her low-heeled shoes. He grinned as he noted the similarity to raising a horse's leg prior to shoeing or hoof-cleaning. The pale brown patch of pubic hair inches from his eyes and the tantalizing whiff of womanly odor dispelled any further correlation to that analogy. Aaron had to resist the strong impulse to bury his face against her tempting pussy. "Hmmm," he told himself, "it sucks to have to stand by my promise to limit the humiliation of this session; especially since Regina has such a willing and talented pussy."

Regina finally seemed to shake herself alert as Aaron urged her toward the cuffs awaiting her about ten feet from where Helen now stood. The two were soon equally helpless to resist the coming session.

Aaron stepped up first to Helen and said, "You have a choice of mouthware; a mouthguard, a rubber bit, or a gag. I recommend the mouthguard, it will best protect your teeth and face."

Helen weakly nodded her head and simply said, "OK" before opening her mouth. The heavy mouthguard slipped in easily. Regina also chose the mouthguard option.

Moments before, Puppy brought over three sets of leather boxing gloves used to protect boxers' hands from punching bags. Ingrid already stood beside Regina wearing her gloves and Helen was almost finished putting on hers.

Aaron curtly commanded, "Ready. Begin;" and Puppy powered the electric winches, raising Helen and Regina's arms overhead. The strain sucked in the women's abdomens and fully displayed all their feminine charms. Karen started on Helen's left thigh with a viscous punch. The meaty smack was instantly followed by a deep grunt of pain. Karen continued with measured right- and left-handed blows to the woman's left leg. She worked silently for more than five minutes as she covered the woman's calves, thighs, ass cheeks, and pussy mound with a flurry of painful blows. Finally she stepped back and wiped sweat of her brow with the back of one wrist. Puppy handed Karen and Ingrid each a sports bottle of water.

As instructed earlier by Aaron, the pair's first responsibility during breaks was to water their victims before drinking themselves. Amazingly, both Helen and Regina were able to remain mostly silent during their first round of torture. They gasped to regain their lost breath after the mouthguards were removed and then drank greedily the few meager ounces of cold water allocated. Neither woman begged for mercy; instead, they waited stoically as Aaron, Puppy, Ingrid, and Karen whispered among themselves a few feet away.

Then, it was time to begin again. Ingrid switched places with Karen. She now stood beside Helen where she reinserted the mouthguard. Though silent thus far during the ordeal, Helen's eyes were already swollen from crying and tears streaked down her face.

Ingrid and Karen repeated their attack against the women's lower bodies, only now working on a different victim.

The third and fourth rounds of beatings concentrated on the women's torsos and deeply bruised their abdomens, ribs, breasts, and kidneys. Each would probably piss blood in their urine for several days and they would require rib bandages to ease the pain of breathing.

Aaron alone administered the last part of the first session. Ingrid stood behind the first victim, Helen, and tightly clasped her black hair in one hand while her other steadied the back of her head. Aaron carefully struck blow after blow with his leather-covered right fist only. He started with the woman's forehead and eyes, moved to her ears, and finished up on her nose and mouth. Aaron wanted tissue damage and bruising, but no broken noses. As expected, his final blows split Helen's luscious lips in multiple places. Aaron signaled Karen to move the now unconscious woman away while he and Ingrid turned their attention to Regina.

Thirty minutes later, Helen and Regina were side-by-side, secured similarly belly-down on low black leather ottomans. Their arms and legs were tightly strapped down, each with their delectable ass and pussy helplessly upthrust. They were ready for the next stage of abuse. None of the women knew what was to transpire.

"Girls," Aaron started, "no gag or mouthguard will help you now. We have to leave your breathing passages clear given the condition of your noses and sinus."

The two punished women peered down to the puddles of blood that pooled on the blue mat from bloody noses and torn lips. They were too miserable to respond and remained limply in place; silent and apprehensive.

Aaron himself made the final adjustments on the two mechanical fucking machines. Each girl's thinly stretched pussy lips were wrapped around a fat, nine-inch rubber cock with deep ridges. The twin cocks glistened with a thick layer of slithery-slick sex lube. Aaron turned the machine on and observed the hydraulic rams silently and remorselessly fuck the women with deep in and out strokes. Helen and Regina were too tightly bound to wriggle their hips either to ease the fucking strokes or to evade them.

Aaron sat in his comfortable chair, alone and silent, while he observed the beginning action of this session. Pussy, Ingrid, and Karen were already gone; ordered away to other duties. Aaron wanted them safely out of sight during this final and most unpleasant round of abuse. The three women thought that the mechanical fucking machine would stroke untiringly into vaginas and assholes until enough signs of mass rape were evident. Aaron knew that he had to inflict significantly more damage to their tender membranes than a lube-slick dildo would generate. He grimly reminded himself that obvious signs of repeated rape and torture were needed in order to maintain full believability of their accounts of what occurred.

Aaron decided that the machines' fucking was probably soothing to the exhausted women. He moved forward to kneel between the two steadily stroking cocks and slathered more lube on them as well as on the exposed pussy lips. He spread waterless hand cleaner liberally on his hands and then carefully dried them on a fluffy handtowel.

Beside the silently kneeling man were a vicious-looking cat-o-nine-tails with heavy whipping straps and a bucket of coarse crystalline children's play-box sand. The sand was a last-minute addition brought in from a local Home Depot store. Aaron dipped one hand into the bucket and brought up a fistful of the white sand. Not fully certain how the next part of the session would damage the girls, he let a few grains escape to sparsely scatter along the length of the glistening shafts.

Neither girl reacted as the increased friction on the shafts started to pull the pouting pussy lips out along the shaft on out-strokes and drag the quickly swelling lips into the pussies during the in-strokes. The increased friction and abrasive effect went unnoticed due to the strong topical numbing agent Aaron blended in with the sex lube. The girls would be unaware that the thrusting cocks were 'sanding off' sensitive flesh in and around their assholes and cunts. Aaron let more sand dribble down to more fully coat the fake cocks. Sand also soon coated the pussy lips and pussy mounds of each woman; increasingly red and swollen from the gritty fucking.

As the relentless fucking continued, Aaron pinched Regina's slowly undulating ass cheek and eased a needle into the captured mound. The syringe plunger sent a powerful muscle relaxant into her system. She would be unconscious before her abuse assfuck started.

Aaron turned off the hydraulic pump and exchanged the bloody nine-inch cocks with clean six-inch ones better suited for anal sex. He eased the first inch of the slippery dildo into Helen's tight anal ring and remembered her fondness for rough anal sex. As the hydraulic ram started another relentless fuck, he turned to Regina and inspected her bloody pussy lips that clung limply to the sandy shaft still embedded in her pussy. Soon a slenderer and shorter cock was gliding in and out of her asshole.

Aaron picked up the whip and stared again at the now sandy assholes. The inward strokes of the punishing cocks made the brown anal sphincters disappear deeply into the rectums. "These are gonna hurt so bad tomorrow," Aaron muttered as his arm swept back for the first whipping stroke he would administer.

Even in her nearly unconscious state, Helen's back arched up at each stroke of the whip. Aaron carefully left deep wheals of red stripes across their backs, sides, asses, and legs without once breaking the skin. He was attempting to preserve their flawless skin and not leave any permanent scars.

Aaron dismantled the fucking machines and loaded his torture equipment into two heavy canvas bags. He walked away silently, leaving two bloody and thoroughly tortured women sleeping behind him.

Puppy, Ingrid, and Helen would be sent out soon to douche out, bathe, and apply soothing creams to the women's bodies. Well before dawn on the next morning, a Monday, Aaron would drive them to a quiet beach site near the highway stretching south to the Florida Keys. The two law enforcement agents would stumble along the rocky shoreline to a nearby parking area with a working pay phone. The penniless agents would simply dial 911 and wait for medical and police assistance. After that, everyone involved would quickly see whether the risks taken by Aaron to release these women were worth the possibility of capture and imprisonment.

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

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 26 – A Villa is Purchased (or He Takes Her Soul)

It was Sunday afternoon and Aaron was stuck. He had not fully planned how to accomplish his upcoming trip to the British Virgin Islands with his slave, Ingrid Gaviard. Her identity paperwork was in order. That wasn't the issue. In fact, Aaron had established quite a relationship with the Cuban document forger Ricardo Manapat and his granddaughter Teresa Manapat. Aaron had paid for alternate identities and passports for Puppy, Ingrid Gaviard, Sandy Hamilton, Karen Rigden, and Michael Mueller. Teresa assured Aaron that no records remained in her files of any document that she ever made. Ricardo reaffirmed this business practice and informed Aaron that his life and that of his granddaughter would be forfeit if anyone in the Cuban community discovered that she provided any information to the police. The forgers had dealt with too many desperate people for the customers to allow their document information to reach the authorities.

No, the problem was the simple one of how to take a seemingly cooperative slave out of the country to a Caribbean Island. He knew that an ocean voyage, while a pleasant way to spend time with one of his favorite fuck-bunnies, would take too long. The extra post-911 airport security made a commercial flight out of the question. Exhausted from the extended ordeal of busting open the Oscar Lynden drug organization, preparing the freighter shipment, and then starting his 'catch and release' program, Aaron gave up and called his friend Steve Austin for advice. Minutes later a sheepish Aaron dialed the number of a local air charter company to book seats on a small twin-engine flight from a small airfield. Security was virtually non-existent on the private flights as they were outside the secure areas established for commercial airline flights. The cost was reasonable and the two were the only passengers. The pilot, Jennifer Engel agreed to depart at mid-morning on Monday with two passengers for the Beef Island Airport on Greater Camanoe.

Aaron smiled as he walked out of his private office and headed toward the slave training area. He knew that Ingrid Gaviard was eagerly waiting for the trip details. She had been through a painful contest with her fellow slave Sandy Hamilton to earn the right for this trip.

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

Jennifer feathered the engine throttles as her aircraft slowed to a crawl on the taxiway leading to the commercial flights terminal on Beef Island. She smiled reassuringly to her two passengers behind her and again briefly admired the couple. The man, a Mr. Michael Moore, held his girlfriend loosely with one arm while he brazenly grinned back at her. Jennifer felt sure the beautiful woman was a girlfriend as she wore no rings. Despite her businesslike appearance in her flightsuit, Jennifer was all woman and recognized the designer clothing the unnamed woman wore. "Maybe they are going for a low-profile getaway so nobody will see them. Hmmm, could be that at least one is married and they are having an affair. She is clearly infatuated with her man."

Jennifer Engel moved the romantic daydreams to the back of her mind as she focused on the hand signals from the terminal ground crew as they guided her to an open spot on the parking apron. Once in her final position, the aircraft's engines and propellers fluttered to a stop and silence descended upon the cabin. "OK guys," she said cheerfully, "we are here and on time. I'll walk you over to the customs and immigration area since I'm going to spend the afternoon shopping and killing time. My next customers leave this evening after dinner on Tortola."

Michael Moore (Aaron Clarke) shouldered their single large bag and walked behind Ingrid and Jennifer as they led the way. Each of the slender women carried a shoulder bag and he thought that they were wriggling their hips unnecessarily. "Probably for my attention," He thought. At thirty-six, Ingrid was his oldest acquisition in the PPP category (Prime Piece of Pussy). Michael compared their bodies and attitude. He judged that the slim brunette was probably close to fifty years old. Her body and attitude were enticing. "The only sign that she is aging is that her facial skin is no longer soft and wrinkle free," he mused. "All that wind and sun damage is catching up to her."

Only the former dress shop owner, the strikingly handsome blonde Belinda Maticevski, was older than Ingrid. At forty-six, Belinda was the oldest acquisition taken by Aaron Clarke's East Coast Slaver Organization. The now hairless slave sported a set of E+ tits and looked like a porn star turned bondage freak. Her slim frame had held a nice, tight set of B breasts. Michael grinned as he unconsciously categorized Jennifer Engel as completely fuckable, even if not in the same class as Ingrid. Visually and personality-wise, she was a far better catch than Belinda.

Michael had to grin in appreciation at the perfunctory perusal given their travel documents at immigration. The customs agents were completely unconcerned with the arrivals from Miami and seemed to have a good relationship with their pilot. Customs inspections appeared to be focused on arrivals from elsewhere in the Caribbean rather than the U.S. mainland.

They parted ways at the taxi stand and Michael and Ingrid started on their short journey to a marina in Road Town where a yacht he was keenly interested in was moored – the sailing yacht Destiny.

Ingrid grinned with satisfaction as her lover droned on about his latest toy, the sailing yacht. She couldn't help stretching back in the taxi seat, comparing her feeling of contentment to that of a pampered cat that always got her way. "It's amazing how much he has changed my personality over the last few weeks," she thought to herself. "Before, I would have been spitting mad if my date had flirted with a woman like that pilot. In fact," Ingrid told herself, "I now accept that he will have lots of interaction with women. He has shown that he is principled and honor-bound despite the odd ways he sometimes interacts with women. And, there is no doubt that he is the best lover I could imagine."

The trip to the British Virgin Islands was one that she certainly deserved, she wryly thought. "After all, I took lots of punishment to beat out my competition." Her hand slid down the gorgeous sheath she wore. Puppy and Sandy helped her select her wardrobe for the trip from the extensive collection of stolen clothing kept in the warehouse. The gown itself came from Belinda's former dress shop. She also surreptitiously felt for her panties through the clingy material. It felt good to be fully clothed, even if she was probably a little overdressed. The expensive dress had its own built-in breast support so she didn't have to wear one of the uncomfortable strapless bras in the balmy island weather. It was pleasing how friendly and supportive her new associates were in getting her ready for the trip. Both hands also unconsciously wandered up to feel around her neck. The heavy dog-training collar was gone, replaced with a tasteful pearl necklace.

Michael Moore paused in his eloquent description of the yacht and looked over at his companion. Despite his prattling on about the boat, he fully realized that she was checking out her body, outfit, and the missing training collar. Ingrid was honor-bound to behave herself on this trip and each knew that her failure to obey fully during this trip would result in horrid personal and financial consequences for the woman. Under the terms of his new 'catch and release' program, Ingrid held the identity codes for a hidden offshore account in her name holding one million dollars of E.C.S.O. money as well as her stolen inheritance and life savings. She owed East Coast Slavers five years indentured service time and then the account location and serial numbers were hers along with the money. Further, Ingrid still owed eleven of her twelve full-service slave days that she bartered away in return for certain privileges during the ongoing twelve-week period. 'Piggy' as she was known when in full slave mode had surprised her owner with her willingness to participate in her own slave training during her indentured period. Michael Moore grinned in appreciation of the complexities of his sexy partner / submissive pet / and training mistress.

Michael and Ingrid roamed through the sailing yacht; each was extremely impressed with the vessel. Michael fell in love with the boat largely due to the rigging on the sixty-foot schooner that allowed for easy long-range cruising by a single person. The steering, autopilots, and all the sails were remotely controllable from within the enclosed cockpit. Internal halyards and enclosed roller furling systems were equipped on each of seventy-foot, equal-height masts. The Perkins six-cylinder, 354 cubic inch marine diesel engine packed an impressive 130 hp backed up with a 640 gallon fuel tank. The boat was a sailor's dream.

Ingrid, with no sailing experience of any kind, loved the vessel's lines, wide sixteen-foot beam, and the spacious luxury below decks for which the Morgan line was renowned. The master cabin featured a queen-sized bed and a private master bath with full-sized Jacuzzi tub, shower, and electric head. Even as a non-sailor, she knew the boat was luxurious if she could bathe daily, an easy task given the desalinization unit – a Galley Maid capable of producing 400 gallons per day of fresh water. The two mirror-image forward cabins featured double beds, lots of storage and private bathrooms, sink, and vanities. The only facility shared by the forward cabins was the over-sized shower unit. A third, smaller toilet / shower unit was located adjacent to the crew berth, an area equipped with a twin-sized bunk. The office / chart area / navigator station was top-notch with the best electronics available on the market. The refurbished galley, dining area, and living room were large and plush. The entertainment equipment in the main salon included a surround sound system with plasma screen television, DVD and VCR units, and a CD player and AM/FM radio in the receiver.

Michael Moore purchased the boat on the spot without dickering about the asking price. His only stipulation; that the boat be transferred immediately and that the sellers were responsible for loading the vessel with first class food for a ten-day voyage of eight adults, including wine and beer. The sales broker immediately accepted the offer and informed Michael that a provisioning company would have the boat ready to go by the end of the afternoon, including full tanks of water and fuel.

Less than three hours after arrival on the islands, Michael Moore was the proud owner of a sixty-foot Morgan schooner. Michael locked his luggage and Ingrid's handbag in a storage bin onboard and then they walked hand-in-hand down the marina pier. They decided to kill a few hours playing tourist while the provisioning crew prepared the boat.

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

Michael dropped the seventy-five pound anchor and watched carefully as the schooner slowly swung around the anchor site and settled in. Michael and Ingrid had set sail in late afternoon and had an enjoyable sail in a steady wind and easy seas. They moved due east for five miles in order to cross the bay from Road Town and then conducted a series of long tacks to head northeast and upwind for another five miles. Their destination was a small, very private harbor nearly to the eastern point of Tortola. Michael silently thanked the fickle gods for allowing him to arrive at his anchorage with at least fifteen minutes to spare before sundown. "It would have been tough duty to motor through the chain barricade hung from the permanent buoy system that blocked the bay without daylight."

Michael pulled the cork on a cold bottle of Viognier wine from his just-purchased estate south of Mendoza Argentina. The 450-acre estate, now named Manera de Diablo (The Devel's Way) produced quality wines. Michael Mueller, the dead drug lord's accountant was just beginning his five year indentured service as estate manager. The wine, purchased from a Miami liquor distributor, had been hidden as a treat in his luggage.

Ingrid graciously accepted the wine and sat down on one of the cushions on the Destiny's forward deck. Michael sat down beside her and hugged her tight. The sun was just setting in the western sky as they took their first sips of the crisp white wine. "You see that house up on the hill?" Michael said gesturing to the huge estate a hundred and fifty feet or so above the private bay they were moored in.

Ingrid leaned into his shoulder and murmured, "Oh, it is nice. This place is truly beautiful. How did you know about this bay?"

"Ahhh, Ingrid, that is a good story all by itself. Remember that girl Connie Baxter?"

Ingrid tensed against him and said, "Yes, Aaron; but that was a different life. You were trying to set us up for blackmail to control us weren't you?"

"Yes," Michael responded; "and it really worked. After all, now I have you and Connie as well. This 114-acre estate is one that Connie Baxter has been renting this summer. I planned to rent it for three weeks. However, the owners have just decided to put it up for sale and Connie Baxter desperately wants to be the listing agent. Unfortunately for her, a rival has the listing."

"Hmmm, and you have a way to take advantage of the situation?" Ingrid whispered. "You are lucky that I am not jealous anymore."

Michael's grasp tightened on her shoulder, and he said huskily, "Oh well. I thought I would have to forcibly convince you to play games with her." He felt her stir and after she set her drink down Ingrid slipped to the deck on her knees and laid her head on her master's lap. Her hot breath fluttered through his slacks and warmed his dick.

Her muffled voice further stirred his cock when she spoke into his uncoiling monster, "This Piggy will do whatever is expected of her."

Michael stood up and dragged her to stand beside him. "Hmmm, I like the offer but it is out of bounds for the next eleven weeks except during your slave day. No, unfortunately for me, it's a Monday night and unless we work out a trade, your next slave day is this Thursday."

Ingrid hungrily kissed him and clenched his back tightly. "If you put it that way, then I especially want to play whatever game you have in mind. I'm sure that tomorrow will be especially interesting." Her right hand snaked under an armpit and slid her zipper all the way to her hipbone. She grinned up at him and shrugged her shoulders, the silky fabric fluttered down her taut body to pool on the deck. Ingrid leaned her head and shoulders way back and shook her bare titties in a vulgar copy of a burlesque move before she gracefully sank back down to her knees. The move had also freed her hair to swirl wildly around her head. She unzipped his slacks and eased his monster cock out through the opening.

Michael felt her incredibly warm mouth suck his quickly hardening cock all the way down her throat. He intentionally twitched his dick and she instantly responded by sucking strongly in answer to each twitch. She continued her expert blowjob by grabbing his belt at each hip and savagely yanking his groin in and out of her hot mouth. She pulled so hard that Michael felt her face thump hard against his groin as she took all nine inches of his brutally fat cock. "Her lips must be hurting," he grinned to himself.

Michael had enough of her mouth and again yanked her up beside him. This time, he spun her around and pushed her upper torso down toward the stainless steel bow rail. "Hold tight and don't let go," he commanded as he slipped down to his own knees and buried his face in her tight ass. He deeply breathed in her sexy aroma and pushed each ass cheek up hard to open her pussy to his view. Enough of the rapidly dimming twilight remained to illuminate her crinkly outer pussy lips.

Ingrid felt her ass cheeks stretch up high and then felt his hot breath blowing on her sensitive pussy. She moaned and pushed her ass back toward Michael. His tongue teased its way around her vaginal lips and the scent of own musky cunt wafted up to her nose. "Hmmm," she moaned aloud, "that is nice lover. Make my cunt twitch. Your tongue is making my tits swell. Your fuck-bunny is getting ready. Suck. Suck. Ohhh, yessss suck me hard."

Michael didn't know where her slutty mouth came from but he liked it. His already rock-hard cock started to throb with need for more stimulation. His pushed his face harder into her cunt and slid his thumbs around across the bottom of her ass cheeks toward her brown anal sphincter. His thumbs brushed across his nose as the tips of the digits sought her tightest fuck opening. As soon as the thumbs slightly stretched open the tight opening, Michael fully extended his tongue, drove it deep into her slimy cunt slit, and then quickly moved it back to stab it deep into her rectum.

"Ohhh, yessss," Ingrid moaned as his tongue finally buried itself in her eager cunt. "What, …" she started to say as the intense oral sensations abruptly stopped. Then she actually gasped as his extended tongue speared its way into her ass. "Yessss," she hissed as one ass cheek was released and the freed hand wormed its way deep into her cunt. The stimulation of her pussy and ass was too much, she exploded in orgasm and her knees gave out. Her hands stayed in place as if glued to the rails while her ass sunk down and pulled his tongue out of her ass.

Michael took the respite to step away and quickly shuck his clothes. Everything was thrown in a heap on one of the many cushioned seats built into the deck of the boat. Michael locked eyes with Ingrid as she looked coyly over her shoulder as he approached naked, cock in one hand, and lubricated condom ready in the other hand. He spit out the condom's foil package and expertly rolled the condom down his shaft. It was a tight fit.

The velvety cunt closed around the tip of his cock. "Hmmm, Ingrid, you feel great," Michael commented as his hands moved to grasp her trim hips. He bent his knees and rotated his own hips, thoroughly coating his dick with cunt juice from her already soaking outer lips as he prepared to fuck in. Ingrid's long black hair fell across her shoulders and back; the horny woman made a sexy sight, naked tits hanging down and hips rotated back and up to encourage his cock to set itself fully into her tight cunt. Michael pulled up and back on her hips as hard as he could, burying his fat fuckstick into her hole in one push.

Ingrid's hips rose up, leaving her toes dangling inches above the yacht's deck. Her bare feet quested blindly for purchase as her sex partner bludgeoned his way into her cunt. "No matter how loose and ready my cunt gets for sex," she muttered quietly, "his cock still feels like a telephone pole going in my pussy on the first few strokes." The violent strokes vibrated the nerve bundles connected to her clit and pussy lips. Ingrid couldn't help but smile as she wondered what her co-workers would say if they saw her fucking like some kind of slut. "Oh, but it feels so good, girls," she mumbled quietly. "You don't know what you are missing."

Michael heard some quiet muttering from Ingrid, but he ignored it as he fucked the gorgeous woman's body up and down on his cock. It felt so good; tight, slippery, and hot. When her orgasm released rippling spasms through her cunt, Michael waited for the climax to fully overwhelm her before he yanked her off the safety rail and sat down hard on his ass, pulling her with him. Ingrid's weight and momentum slammed her pelvic bone hard upon the root of his cock, further intensifying her orgasm. Michael's own climax couldn't be held back; he exploded, pumping spurt after spurt of jism into the condom.

Ingrid's torso limply slumped forward and she weakly kissed his toes before her head also fell forward. She was too fucked out to move.

The sunset was over and the shoreline and the ocean's horizon became more difficult to discern. Michael crawled out from under his lover and left her to recover while he walked naked to the grill hanging off the aft stanchions. The evening was clear and quiet; the stars just beginning to appear in the dark sky. The faint sounds of the distant surf and the nearby slapping of small swells against the hull created a pleasant backdrop to the romantic night. Michael Moore looked up at the amazing sky and told the silently observing stars, "Yes! Life is fucking great!"

Ingrid, still sprawling naked on the bow heard his declaration and echoed back, "Freaking right! This life is fucking great!"

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

Michael Moore (aka Aaron Clarke) sat in a comfortable chair on Tuesday morning, sheltered from the already muggy tropical weather outside by the office's air conditioning system. He had escaped the frenetic pace of daily operations in Miami the day prior in order to head to the British Virgin Islands in response to an excited phone conversation that took place several days earlier. He and Ingrid spent a romantic evening and night aboard his new sailing yacht, Destiny.

Aaron / Michael looked up and complimented Connie Baxter on her work, "The estate you found is perfect. The digital pictures you sent clinched the deal." Aaron kept an extensive listing of coffee shops and restaurants that offered WiFi connections that he used to check his various e-mail accounts on anonymous servers. He found Connie's messages when he checked a Yahoo mail account through the WiFi connection at a Miami coffee shop. "Connie, if I ever decide to buy," he said, "you would be my agent of choice. This property is perfect as my summer rental; and, you say it's getting ready to go on the market?" he prompted.

It turned out that a competitor of hers would soon list the extensive estate. Connie was fuming mad about it. "Well, you appreciate that nobody knows this property as well as I do. After all, the estate is one of my best, high-end rental units. It's only been available as a rental for twelve weeks and I have leases signed already for ten of those weeks. I'll never know why our broker gave the sales listing to Carolyn White, that stuck-up bitch!"

Michael thought, "She's whining. Wow! I thought she was made of sterner stuff than this." He masked his thoughts and looked helpful. "You know, Connie; I will close on some lucrative deals this summer, and I know you said closing may have to be delayed because of tenants, …" Michael paused for dramatic effect and then continued, "Well, if you have time, please show me the property this morning. You said it's available as the cleaning and provisioning staff are prepping it for a tenant's arrival tomorrow."

Connie perked right up at the possibility of getting a sales commission instead of her normal rental management fee. "Sure, let me grab my things and I'll drive." As she turned to gather her purse, cell phone, and some real estate folders, Michael admired her tight ass under the slightly-too-tight skirt she wore. The thin, silky material did little to hide the full shape of each luscious ass cheek as they slightly undulated from her movements. Michael evaluated her form as cute and cuddly, a little plump from the soft island life and no exercise. He visualized her working off the weight and toning up with a few days of 'structured' weight control and workouts. He grinned at the thought of a naked Connie running on an electric walking machine, her wrists tied off to the support bar, … breasts swaying and bouncing. At thirty-two, she was a definite prospect for putting in a final hogtie.

Connie Baxter had also proven to have a great sense of humor. Weeks earlier, she had helped him with a fictional girlfriend problem, giggling with amusement when he described the problem and his proposed solution. Like many women, the chance to put a potential rival down a few notches was too great an opportunity to pass up. She ended up humiliated herself.

On the way to the property, Connie explained the proposed terms of sale on the estate and some of the property's history. Connie became involved as rental agent when the owners placed the property for rental during a limited twelve-week period that summer. The time was to allow the owners in the United States time to work on their marriage. Just two days ago, the husband unexpectedly filed for divorce in New York City. Connie's boss was finalizing the sales contract with the two legal firms representing the now warring spouses.

The initial asking price would probably be $14.2 million for the 6,000 square foot villa with pool and most of the amenities demanded by Michael Moore for his vacation rental. The estate did not include a sailboat or a jeep. However, the boathouse and garage stored a nice powerboat, two sets of jet-skis, and four mopeds. The estate did include a tennis court, outdoor pool and spa, extensive grounds, and a security perimeter fence that ran out into the water. The 89-acre site included a private bay of 25 acres for a total of 114 acres. The site featured mostly rocky bluffs overlooking the bay except for a cove with two glistening white sandy beaches and a substantial dock attached to a large boathouse.

The home sat above the ocean on a bluff about 125 feet above sea level. Adjacent properties were also large and well separated by ridgelines and thick forests. As described, it was extremely private. Connie said that the furnishings and exterior landscaping were interesting and professionally designed.

Michael thought that the place sounded perfect as the permanent base he was hoping to purchase for the East Coast Slavers Organization. It was well within his budget. The organization's new operating concept of raping illegal business enterprises of their cash assets was bringing in substantial amounts of cash.

Michael stood behind Connie with his arms around her shoulders and both admired the spectacular view through the wide expanse of glass in a large, airy living room. The spacious deck wrapped around the house and hung over the bluff, all with incredible views of the ocean and the lush island vegetation.

Connie snuggled back against his hard body. She had been intrigued and in lust with him since they first met. Weeks earlier, she had rendezvoused at a restaurant bar with him, certain they would spend the night together. Somehow, she and that horrid creature Ingrid ended up in bed together. Connie remembered wakening late the next afternoon, still bound together with Ingrid. Her faulty memory of events indicated that the woman had nearly fucked her to death. Connie's cunt, ass, and even her mouth had been chapped and sore for days. Connie's ovaries ached from the deep pounding of the obscene neon-bright double dildo. "And those pictures, …" she still shuddered in dismay when she thought of them.

Michael Moore had Connie Baxter phone her boss, the owner and real estate broker for the firm. She explained the situation with the property and briefly introduced Michael Moore. She handed the phone over to Michael who said his hellos and then started right in, "I like this property, I trust Connie Baxter, and I must commit on this property this week. My proposal is a full cash offer of $14.2 million plus $800 thousand for all furnishings and personal property, inside and out. I can have ten percent earnest money in your company's account in an hour and the remainder available for your attorney's escrow account by mid-afternoon. The deal is contingent upon contract commitment this week with Connie as the exclusive agent. She will split all commissions with you 60-40. Will you accept this offer?"

Michael paused while he listened to the broker waffle and he finally broke in with, "Yes, I realize this is unorthodox. Keep in mind that you will bear zero expenses or effort to close this deal. I understand that estates of this size can sit on the market for years, draining your advertising budget, and wasting your agents' time on fruitless showings. Deal or no deal?"

The broker reluctantly agreed and Michael passed the phone for Connie to wrap up the details.

Moments later, Connie closed her cell phone with a snap, squealed with glee, and jumped into his arms. "Oh, Michael, you are a magic worker," she gushed. "That tight-wad had to eat part of his commission and he will have to face that skanky bitch, Carolyn White that thought she had the listing. Oh, thank you! I am so happy. Let's go celebrate!" With that outburst, she melted in his arms and her lips hungrily sought his. She had cause for celebration. At closing, she would receive a sales commission of $720,000 for virtually no work. Her boss, while now upset about losing control of the listing, would ultimately be ecstatic about his own easily earned $480,000.

Michael went straight for the gold; his tongue sunk into her eager mouth and his hands slid down her randy sides to the silky soft skirt. He forcefully clutched both her full ass cheeks and yanked her pelvis into his. Her horny hands copied his eagerness and she scratched and pulled at his shirt. The two slid toward the lush carpet and rolled until Connie sat astride Michael's body.

Connie looked down at the strong body underneath her and she smiled. She felt many emotions rushing through her body. The idea of beating Carolyn White out of a sale gave her an emotional high that was reinforced by the rush of greed from the pending sale. Atop all that, she had been on a sexual edge since picking up Michael Moore at the marina that morning. "I'm ready for a good fuck," she told herself. She leaned down and sucked the man's tongue into her mouth while her hands desperately unbuttoned his shirt. His hands slid her skirt up, exposing her skimpy red thong panties, and then yanked her own blouse apart. Buttons flew across the room and her heavy breasts sprang free from her center clasp bra before the buttons finished moving. Connie felt his hands tightly squeeze her breasts. She moaned in heat and wriggled her crotch across the meaty lump that confirmed how well endowed her soon to be lover was. "Michael, your dick feels so large," she whispered throatily into his ear as the two groins continued to dry hump one another.

Michael was pleased with the easy responsiveness of the real estate agent. "She is every bit the sexy bundle that I thought she was," he told himself as his hands clutched her oversize tits. She moaned into his mouth and wriggled across his engorged fuck meat. Michael moved his hands. One slid across her back and held her down tightly against his mouth. The other hand slid down and caressed her bare ass cheek. Michael smiled as he felt her thong. "Connie I think your thong is so sexy," he whispered into her ear.

Connie silently increased the pressure of her nearly bare cunt against his cock mound and wrapped her fingers tightly around his pronounced pectorals.

Michael smiled again and quickly threw off the surprised woman and rolled her onto her back. He looked down at the blonde, hair and clothes in disarray. "I meant that thong panties make me horny because they remind me of sluts with juicy cunts, constantly ready for fucking," he said clearly.

Connie gasped in embarrassment and surprise. "I'm no slut," said with indignation.

Michael just grinned down and jammed three fingers hard into her drooling cunt, easily bypassing the tiny patch of silk protecting its entrance. He pushed firmly and rotated his hand, sinking to his knuckles in one easy move. Michael pulled out his slimy hand and rubbed it across her protesting face. "This is certainly a slut's cunt, and it's definitely ready for a fuck." Without waiting for a reply, he set his left hand across her throat, firmly holding her in place while his right hand brought a condom foil up to his teeth. He grinned down at her as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his fat, nine-inch cock.

Connie stared in shock as Michael pulled out the largest cock she had ever personally seen. With fluid, practiced moves, the man rolled a condom down its ridged length and he set the head against her throbbing cunt. Connie shrieked in lust and pain as he threw his 205 pounds hard against her open body. She felt the cockhead thump against her cervix. "Eiii, Michael! That's too fast," she hissed into his ear before stopping in further shock as his pubic bone struck hard against hers. His heavy torso pinned her down as his hips set up a strong circular fucking motion that dragged her helpless hips in matching circles. Connie felt like her poor cunt was being stretched permanently into a gapping cavern by the huge cock and the incredible gyrations of his hips.

Michael hissed into her ear. "See, those thongs did hide a slutty cunt ready for a fucking. I'm buried in you in one single fucking push. Don't try and tell me that the cunt butter lubing up my cock didn't come from you. I should have fucked you last time instead of watching you seduce my girlfriend. At least you are obviously bi-sexual and not just a lesbian."

Connie relaxed in complete shock. Her body shook like a rag doll's as his relentless fucking continued. She felt his lips seeking out hers and despite her anger, she found herself kissing back, tentatively at first, and then with steadily increasing passion. The acceptance of the sex let her brain notice that her nerves were tingling with stimulation. Her cunt and mouth seemed to be her body's two epicenters of feeling. The sensations from her cunt were increasing in waves of feeling. Connie's hips eagerly started to fuck back against Michael's strong fucking. Connie heard herself start to beg for more, and harder, sex from her newest lover. "Oh, yesssss. Fuck me. Fuck me! Yes, you bastard fuck me harder."

Michael knew the risk he had taken with his rude comments had paid off. Instead of the lackluster and reserved sex he probably would have gotten from the sexy woman, he was giving and receiving hardcore, no holds barred fucking. From long experience, he knew that based on Connie's unreserved responsiveness, she could easily be drawn into other enjoyable games. Connie would be a lot of fun as one of his island girls.

Connie heard his wet cock plop out of her thirsty cunt and to her dismay, she immediately began to beg for him to put it back in. "Michael, please. I'm sooo close to cumming. Please fuck me. Fuck me," she wailed as she tried to pull him back down onto her body.

Michael grinned down at the horny bitch below him. Her blonde hair was in complete disarray and her big breasts flopped loosely across her chest and the torn-open blouse. He reached down and yanked hard to pull off the wrinkled skirt and her now slimy thong panties. One leg of the thong was left dangling around her right ankle and then tightly wrapped around her right wrist. Connie's cunt was now splayed wide open. Michael grabbed the other ankle and bent it back toward her ear before leaning down and setting his heavy weight on her calves. His fat cockhead found itself nestled against her thin patch of blonde pubic hair and he eased it in an inch or so. "Tell me what you want," he taunted the panting woman.

"Fuck me you idiot!" she hissed as she tried in vain to raise her cunt up onto his cock.

"First tell me what you are," he responded back as he withdrew his plum-sized head entirely from her drooling cunt.

"I'm a slut," she sobbed. "My cunt is ready for a fuck. Now, please, fuck me."

Michael obliged by sinking his shaft all the way into her hot vagina. It clasped tightly all the way down.

"Yessss," Connie hissed up at him. "That's just right." She felt the fat cockhead brushing against her g-spot as the hips widely swiveled above her. The bent over position left her at the mercy of his talent for sex; she could do little to increase either her pleasure or his beyond verbal encouragement and clamping her internal muscles against his plunging cockstick.

Connie heard herself grunting as he threw his weight around above her tightly clasping box. If not for the wondrous sensations from her cunt, she would have thought he was merely fucking for his own pleasure and not caring about hers. Then, she started moaning as her first orgasm struck with whirlwind force, "Eiii, ohhhh, yessss. That's it. Fuck, … fuck, … fuck me good."

Michael looked at the fucked out woman below him as he finished getting his clothes in order. "I'll be back in a little while," Michael told the sweaty and exhausted woman before him. "I saw something outside that intrigues me. Don't go away." With that said, he walked away.

Connie glared at his retreating backside. She did admire the tight muscles of his ass before grunting in displeasure at her predicament. He had just abandoned her helpless on her back with one ankle tightly tied to a wrist with her red panties and the other wrist and ankle equally secured with her skimpy white bra. She tried again to roll over and failed. She took satisfaction at the sight of the used condom thrown on the rug by her head; it was full of ounces of sperm that her tight cunt had sucked out of her lover. The sound of voices outside the living room window just feet away interrupted her daydreams. Naked, spread-open in a pose apparently meant to invite any male to mount her for free sex, was not how she wanted her company's cleaning crew to discover her. She knew that two male groundskeepers were working outside and two local island women were inside, cleaning and dusting. The two men near the window were laughing about something. The sounds faded as the workers moved away. Connie sighed with relief and then she worried that she might be found by the cleaning women. She wondered whether the women were finished cleaning the room or if they were soon to enter the room for cleaning. She wriggled again in frustration and dreamily gauged the just-finished fuck as the best of her life.

Michael stood beside a deep chasm cut roughly into the property. Connie told him it was a sinkhole made from ocean tides constantly surging through an underground entry from the nearby bay. The hole was easily 150 feet deep and several acres in size. He visualized an underground tunnel connecting from the nearby home to this pit and another one running from the pit out to the bay. He was certain that Connie was correct about the existence of a tunnel to the ocean as deep blue water filled the cavernous pit below, at a level equal to the bay. Michael Moore knew then that this property was what he needed as the Caribbean base of his organization.

Michael pulled out his cell phone and contacted his west coast partner, Steve Austin. "Steve will know a good engineer / architect and a construction manager to get this going," he told himself as he dialed the number. "An underground lake with slave holding and training areas above; Aaron Clarke, you are a certified genius."

Minutes later, Michael approached the groundskeepers and they spoke briefly about the landscaping and the site in general. The men enjoyed working on the various plantings and only had compliments for the outdoor design of the estate. Michael then asked about obtaining a length of tying twine and the men directed him to a small shed hidden behind some shrubs. He found the items he needed and headed back to the house.

Michael next found two housekeepers scrubbing the counters and floor in the kitchen. He chatted with them for a few minutes about the house and its condition. Like the men working outside, they knew of no hidden flaws and judged everything to be in top condition. When asked about cleaning supplies, they directed Michael to a utility room.

Connie was unable to protest when she was manhandled about and secured by Michael. He made sure she was secured too tightly to resist. The first thing he did was to stuff a clean dish drying rag into her mouth. Next, he carefully pulled her blonde hair back and tied it into a ponytail with a short piece of nylon line from the shed outside. Another wrap of the line around her head kept the gag securely in place. He sat back and looked at the woman, still spread-open helplessly on her back. She squirmed angrily.

Michael then strapped an old leather dog collar around her neck. It glistened from the quick cleaning and oiling he subjected it to after finding it abandoned in the shed. He then snapped a chain-style leash onto the collar and rotated it to the rear. Connie was rolled onto her side and the chain was fed down her back, between her still slimy pussy lips, and back up to the front of the collar where it was fed under the tight leather. The remaining six feet of lead chain was then set down. Michael started to rearrange her bondage; first working on her wrists which were tied together and then attached to her lead chain just below her collar. An eighteen-inch hobble line completed her constraints.

Michael pulled the confused woman to her feet and then stepped back to admire the effect. Naked save for the torn blouse and her sandals, Connie trembled before him in humiliated bondage. Michael set a frayed straw hat atop her head and tugged on the dog's lead chain to get her started behind him. The skirt, panties, and bra were stuffed into Connie's handbag which Michael picked up to carry to her car.

"Connie," Michael started, "we have several stops to make; first my bank, and then your office. Do you want me to leave you at my boat until that bit of business is complete?" He turned and looked at the distraught blonde, her bulbous tits swung softly from side to side under her torn blouse as she shuffled to a halt. "Or," he continued, "perhaps you would like to inform your friend Carolyn White that you have taken her contract away?"

Connie blanched and hurriedly nodded her head up and down. She didn't want anyone to see her present condition, especially that woman Carolyn White.

"Very well, Connie. We'll stop off at the marina then and you can get a tour of my new yacht. She is named Destiny. I'm sure that you'll like it." He then tugged on Connie's leash and walked quickly on to her car. She hobbled behind as best she could, bare pussy and ass hanging free in the breeze.

At the car, Michael stopped and tied her leash to a door handle. Connie's face was flushed and sweat streaked. "Pussy," Michael started, "what has come over you. You can't go out in public like that." He grasped the free ends of her torn blouse and tied them in front of trim belly, hiding most of her previously exposed tits. The little wrinkled skirt was taken from the handbag and yanked up her naked legs, covering the chain links buried deep in her pussy. Michael shoved her back against the car's body and squeezed her face between his hands. "God, you are a hot little bitch. Are you ready to fuck some more tonight, or do you want to go home alone, safe and sound?"

Connie heard the question in disbelief. She felt the line securing the gag in place loosen and then he started to tug the moistened cloth out of her mouth. Before she could catch her breath to announce her answer, his lips clamped down on hers and his tongue darted into her swollen mouth. His hands again strongly clasped her head and the kiss continued on and on. One hand slipped down to her tummy and where it started to gently jerk the chain in an up and down motion, frigging her pussy lips with the rough links of the dog chain. "I'm in a dog collar and leash," she told herself with disbelief, "and treated no better than a pet."

The kiss stopped and his lips moved to whisper into her ear. "So, what is your answer? Safe in your bed at home or writhing in ecstasy on my boat?" He licked her ear and then continued, "By the way, I guarantee that you will enjoy yourself."

Connie hesitated and then said weakly, "Take me to your boat and fuck me. Please don't hurt me though."

Michael laughed and said, "Good choice! It will be lots of fun and many orgasms. And, in the morning, … well, you probably won't regret your choice; remember, I made no guarantees about that."

Connie moaned in dismay at that last comment and opened her mouth to protest. The sopping cloth was jammed back into her mouth, stopping any chance at argument. After the line was retied around her head, she heard the thump of her car trunk opening via her car's remote. Michael picked her up and gently folded her into the trunk.

Just before he slammed the lid, Michael added, "Since you took so long to decide, Pussy, I have to get our errands done first. We will play at the boat later."

Connie saw the trunk slam down and she was in total darkness, scared, and tied helplessly. "Pussy? Why does he keep calling me Pussy? Where have I heard that before?" Connie thought long on that question, considering it important in determining if her choice had doomed her to death by a madman. When she remembered, she inwardly cried with real fear. "That deviant slut, Ingrid. She marked me with that name and Ingrid's nickname was Piggy. Oh, God! What have I gotten involved in," she thought."

Michael drove quickly around the island to make his necessary stops. He first went to his bank for two draft notes, one for the earnest money deposit and the other to cover his final closing costs. That simple task complete, he headed back to the real estate office. He opened the door and saw a thin attractive blonde glowering at him. Michael smiled and said, "Hello, I'm Michael Moore. Is Mr. …"

"Where is that back stabbing bitch at?" the blonde-haired woman demanded.

Michael already knew what was going on but decided to feign confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't know you and I'm simply looking for the broker that owns this business."

"Oh, shut up," she sneered. "You're the bastard that just bilked me out of a commission. I want to tell that bimbo a thing or two. Where is she? That's her car out there. You must know." Her voice rose to a shrill, unpleasant pitch.

"Please, calm down and start over again," Michael continued in a pleasant voice. Inwardly he was seething at the woman's demeanor and lack of manners. She didn't realize the danger she was in.

Suddenly a bizarre transformation occurred in the angry woman's face. She seemed to calm down and a coquettish expression appeared on her face. "Oh," she cooed, "I'm just distraught about the shameful way Connie has handled this transaction. Perhaps you and I can discuss the sales contract and negotiate a better conclusion?" One of her hands brazenly rubbed down her side and across the tiny paunchy area just above her pubic mound. The other hand cupped each of her breasts in turn, plumping them up. She cocked her head and pursed her lips.

"Lady," Michael spoke, knowing full well that he was going to set off this crazy woman with his response; "the deal is already done and I close later this week. The broker has already agreed to my terms and will present the deal to the sellers this afternoon."

The blonde's face, which Michael Moore thought obviously belonged to Carolyn White, froze and she stared wildly at him. Then her face transformed again into a snarling mask of fury and she spit out, "If I can't get the commission, then nobody will." With that, she grasped her white blouse and bra cups with her hands and yanked with all her strength, ripping blouse and bra; fully exposing her tight B Cup titties.

Michael watched in fascination as the emotionally distraught woman's emotions raged through her system. After she ripped her clothing, she raked one set of fingernails across a breast mound and the other set of sharp nails down across her cheek. When she took a deep breath and opened her mouth, Michael sprang into action. Too far away to punch or tackle the woman before she started to shriek about his supposed rape, he twisted his entire body sideways and spun his body around his left leg. The upward part of his right foot and ankle swung with incredible velocity and power into Carolyn's gut; a perfect flying soccer kick was completed. Without a word, the woman flew backward to splat against the office wall and then she slumped limply down to the floor.

Michael leapt forward and rolled the lifeless woman onto her belly. He flipped up her skirt to determine what kind of hose she had on, yanked off her heels, and then tugged both her pantyhose and panties down her hips toward her toes. The hose quickly secured the woman's hands helplessly behind her back. That done, Michael dragged the woman, her purse, panties, and her shoes behind a desk and frantically swept through the office to ensure everyone else was still out at lunch. On the way, he found the table where mail packages were prepared and picked up a roll of nylon-reinforced strapping tape and a pair of scissors. The strong tape was used to tightly hold her ankles together and to further secure her already tied wrists.

The parking lot appeared clear so Michael picked up the thin woman, tied her blouse closed as best as possible, and quickly walked toward Connie's car with the woman dangling at his side. From a distance, it might appear that the two were walking out together rather than a slaver with his latest tightly bound victim. Michael none too gently threw the woman onto the floor behind the front seats and got into the car himself. The scissors quickly cut off a large swath of the woman's skirt that was unceremoniously stuffed into her mouth atop her wispy black panties. Michael reflected that the least the bitch deserved was to taste herself over the next couple of hours. Wraps of nylon strapping tape finished off the impromptu gag. Another strip of cloth was wrapped around her head, covering her eyes effectively as a blindfold. This wrap was also secured in place with strapping tape. Michael tested her gag and consciousness status by sliding a hand down to grip a white, fleshy tit. He pinched one fat nipple as hard as he could, simultaneously yanking it hard away from her torso. Carolyn made no response; she was still out cold.

Michael started the vehicle and he carefully backed out of his parking spot and drove toward the marina. The entire chain of events that ended so poorly for Carolyn White had transpired in less than five minutes. Like the ill-fated Belinda Maticevski, Carolyn White was certain to discover that poor manners ranked very high in the listing of unforgivable cardinal sins that Aaron Clarke used in guiding his ethics. Carolyn was in terrible trouble.

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 27 – Connie Meets the Competition (or Carolyn Becomes Stock)

Michael pulled Connie's car into a small alleyway close by her real estate company's office and put the transmission into park. "Sometimes, Aaron," he told himself, "you are a greedy, impetuous idiot. You can't walk past a piece of loose pussy without your dick making decisions for you. Shit! Now you have a just-harvested bitch to deal with. What do I do now?"

Michael Moore, the Caribbean alias for Aaron Clarke and the CEO of the East Coast Slavers Organization was in a quandary. The vehicle's trunk held a tightly bound, sweaty, and by now probably pissed off real estate agent, Connie Baxter. Michael had intended to take her back to his yacht, the Destiny, for some fun and games. Unfortunately, when he tried to drop off an earnest money check at the office, Connie's rival, Carolyn White assaulted him after trying to get him to change her back to the listing agent for the multi-million dollar estate that he was purchasing.

Carolyn White's extremely poor manners and then her threatened accusation of rape triggered her capture. Michael now felt himself honor bound to punish the bitch. She was now nothing more than stock, human livestock.

Michael tried to figure a way out of his predicament, his left hand crept behind him to idly caress Carolyn's naked ass behind him on the floorboard. Her lithe form was slick with sweat and she started to awaken and wriggle weakly in anger when his questing fingers slid into her moist cleft. Her grunting struggles helped Michael Moore ponder his options. "Everything fun in life seems fraught with risk," he mused. "The easiest answer is to hide her from Connie Baxter and surreptitiously bring her to Miami for training and auction. Or, I could let Connie play with her before I take Carolyn away. No," he decided, "the best plan is something else entirely."

Carolyn White's fate determined, Michael drew his now slimy fingers from her loosened cunt and slapped her ass. "Quiet now, Bitch; or you will regret it."

The bright light of the early afternoon Caribbean sun overwhelmed Connie's eyes as the car trunk thumped open above her. Michael grinned down at her and he signaled her to remain silent with a single finger in front of his pursed lips. She heard him whisper, "Connie, I'm kinda in a situation here and I think we can both win from the deal. Instead of heading to my boat, I think we need to get to your house as soon as possible; especially if you have a garage."

The saliva-impregnated washcloth in her mouth kept her from making an indignant or even an outright rude response to Michael's comment. She wanted out of the trunk as quickly as possible. "Hmmph, ruuu hitt!" she tried to get out through the gag.

"I said quiet and I mean it, no talking at all," Michael hissed. "Otherwise, you'll spoil the surprise. If you promise to be quiet I will pull out the gag."

Connie tried to nod her head in acceptance of his proviso. Michael gently moved her head to the side and he fumbled with the knotted twine behind her head. The loosening line relaxed the pressure on her cheeks and she could move her jaw a little around the sopping-wet cloth. He grabbed a protruding edge of the cloth and tugged it out, a little at a time. "Ohhh, you better rock my world tonight or I will kick your ass tomorrow," she hoarsely whispered to Michael.

"Oh, Connie, I think that tonight just became way more interesting for you. Wait and see. The surprise is well worth it. Let's get you to the front seat and you can guide me to your house."

Michael's arm slid under her knees and the other cradled her neck as he plucked her out of the deep trunk, seemingly effortlessly. He whispered in her ear as they moved forward toward her already open passenger door, "Promise not to look in the back seat?" She silently nodded yes and wondered what on earth was going on.

Connie silently signaled that Michael should make a right turn into a short gravel drive. Her home was a cute little bungalow, well landscaped with tropical plantings, and no garage. Michael cursed his frustration but contented himself with pulling into a secluded carport. He turned the key off and repeated his visual cue to maintain silence. Connie's sandaled feet were moved out of the car and Michael protected the top of her head as he pulled her upright and out of the car. He yanked her dog lead and she was forced to hobble after him, heading to a side entry into the kitchen. The links of the chain tugged her cunt lips in a not uncomfortable manner. Connie flushed and admonished herself for thinking about the sex Michael was planning for her. "Maybe he'll fuck me now and then again later on the boat," she thought as her cunt juiced at the thought of more hard fucking. She felt her breasts harden and the ruined blouse further taunted her nipples by scraping over the tender flesh.

Michael tied her leash off to a heavy barstool and lifted her up onto the cushion. "Stay, and be silent. I guarantee that you will love this." He strode outside, obviously in a hurry.

Connie's eyes bulged in disbelief when Michael carried in a nearly naked Carolyn White. Blindfolded, gagged, and bound; the blonde was a sight. Her clothes were in tatters, her exposed breasts were speckled with hair, dirt, and debris from the rear floorboard of Connie's car, and her hairy blonde pubic bush was in plain view. Despite her own questionable treatment at Michael Moore's hands, Connie grinned maliciously at the sight of her abjectly miserable rival. She started to wriggle forward off her barstool to get closer to her nemesis when the chain links of her dog leash dug into her pouting pussy lips. Connie winched in pain and decided to sit still and observe how Michael intended to proceed.

Michael continued around to the kitchen side of the open outside door and set the slim blonde down upon her feet. He checked the tightness of a slipknot at the end of a nylon lead rope before throwing it over the top of the exterior door where he tied it to the outside doorknob. "Stay Cunt," he commanded, "or you will hang yourself." There was little chance that Carolyn could do anything given that her hands and feet were bound with loop after loop of strapping tape. Michael walked back out, leaving the door wide open. He had seen a small garden shed behind the home and decided to quickly search through it for useful items. Inside the long unused storage building, Michael found a hammer, nails, cotton clothesline, and several sets of old, dusty nylon cargo straps.

Dust and paint chips fluttered down atop his head as he drove a heavy nail through the decorative trim of the doorway and into the horizontal stud hidden within the wall. Satisfied that the nail, driven in at a sharp angle, was strong enough, Michael got down off the kitchen chair and turned his attention back to Carolyn. He loosened up the lead rope, picked up the helpless woman, and walked her over to the doorway leading into the dining room. Next, he slid the slip noose up as high as it could go on her neck before tightening it again and draping the free end over the nail. A few jerking tugs and Carolyn squeaked through her gag and arched herself up on her toes to keep from choking.

Blindfolded, gagged, bound, and clearly helpless, she heard a door slam and then silence. Carolyn was still somewhat uncertain what occurred back at the real estate office. She remembered using her normal tactics to get her way: anger, seduction, and finally threats of blackmail. The large and powerful man had exploded into action when she pretended to get ready to scream. She was unaware of what transpired after that. It felt as though a truck hit her. Her ribs, back, and head ached and the gag in her mouth tasted foul. Shaken to the core by the situation, Carolyn felt befuddled and lost, fully paralyzed with fear.

Michael left the slim blonde and grinned at the fuller-bodied, and much more pleasantly tempered, Connie Baxter. His fingers untied her leg hobbles, fed the lead chain back through her dog collar, and under her pussy. He yanked her off the stool with another admonition for silence and led her toward her bedroom by the collar rather than the previously painful pinches of the chain on her pussy. Michael threw her belly down, knees to the carpet, onto her bed mattress and said, "Your turn to stay put Connie and don't talk yet."

Connie felt terribly exposed laying titties down on her mattress with her tingling pussy exposed to Michael's view. She wriggled a little in repressed horniness remembering the luscious sight of the bitch Carolyn tied in her kitchen. "Ohhh," she gasped as Michael's gigantic cock knob explored around her still slimy pussy. "I was daydreaming," she whispered, "I didn't know you were getting naked." Her ass exploded in pain and a deafening slap resounded through her bedroom simultaneously with Michael bottoming out into her pussy in one push.

"I said quiet," Michael hissed inches from her ear. "This is gonna be a lot of fun, but you better pay attention."

"Owww," that hurt Connie whined to herself. "Ahhh, ewww, yesss. That's more like it," she thought. Fully seated on his cock, Connie twisted her hips back, forcing his rock-hard shaft to stir around her steamy pussy. Her hands still tied behind her back, her sensitive breasts rubbed against her bed's comforter with every plunge. Michael's hands left her hips and strongly grasped her elbows, left handy for grasping by her bondage. "Eiiii," she inwardly shrieked, "that hurts my shoulders. But, … ohhh how nice in my pussy. Yes, you strong bastard!"

No longer caring what Michael thought she quietly whispered back to him, "Hurt me later if you want, but fuck me now. Fuck, … fuck, … oh yes, fuck me! Harder, … nice." Her voice drifted quieter and quieter as she concentrated on his fucking. "Oh, yes. Fuck me. Then let's torture that horrible creature downstairs. Please, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Michael didn't last too long on this round of sex. His libido was fully charged up from manhandling two sexy women and the thought of tonight's activities. When her pussy started to first clamp down in the beginnings of her orgasm, Michael let loose with a load of creamy jism into his condom and fell limply across her back. Connie kept squirming and coming like a string of firecrackers until he finally fell off, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water with her continued orgasms.

Still naked, Michael padded back down to the kitchen to check on his new captive. Carolyn whimpered with fear when he ran his hands down her slender form. There was not an ounce of fat on the twenty-six year old. "She does have nice legs and a tight build," Michael told himself. "I bet she looks great running naked. Shame about the tits though; maybe we can increase them a cup size or three."

Carolyn whimpered again as the man's hands fondled her body. She felt like a piece of meat hanging from a hook; inspected for quality. A shudder rippled through her body and she started to cry. Now his hands were grasping and twisting her tits; they were achy and sore from the stimulation. The exploring hands left and she strained to determine where he was and wondered what was next. He came back and started to tug on sections of her tattered clothing. "He's cutting off my clothes," she cried to herself. Her body started to tremble with fear and she felt like she was going to pass out. She sagged and his hands caught her. "He must have cut the rope hanging me," she thought as her knees hit the floor. He walked away again. "The cool floor feels good. Oh, God! I'm naked now."

Michael almost felt sorry for the girl. She seemed on the verge of falling apart. He started to rethink his plan of permanently acquiring her now. "Maybe I will do the Doctor Patricia Kay drug cocktail instead. Hmmm, that way we can have some fun and document it for later blackmail. Ingrid and I can get her anytime. Oh, what about taking her in for training in Miami and then returning her to the islands? She could go back to work and in the off hours be Connie's live-in pain slut. Yes, that's a plan. Two girls captured for the price of one. Connie will have to do whatever she is told after this." Always willing to adjust his thinking, and especially happy to have a worthwhile plan, Michael hummed to himself as he thought over his next moves.

Michael was ready for the next steps. He slid a two-inch nylon shipping strap behind her knees and then folded the knees up to her tits. The nylon webbing went around her shoulders and met at her back. He slid the free end through the sliding lock assembly and yanked the strap tight. Carolyn's upper arms and thighs were now locked tight against her torso. Michael fed another strap from her ankles, around her lower arms, and again around her back. After tightening, this strap tightly held her feet near her ass and simultaneously held her arms tightly to her sides. Using the extra rolls of packaging tape, Michael wrapped her entire body, essentially tying her into a helpless ball. The blindfold and gag were left in place. He rolled her entire body into a soft duffle bag from Connie's closet. It was now time to get Connie ready to go.

Michael gently shook the napping woman. She still lay naked and emotionally exhausted on the bedroom floor. The kitchen knife made short work of the bonds on her wrists and Connie was free, except for the black dog collar and chain dog leash.

Connie's hands crept up to the leash and collar and started to fumble with the catches.

Michael Moore placed his hands on hers and said, "No, not yet. Let's leave off the ropes but leave the collar and chain for now. It will serve to remind you of what you've been through and what could happen if we need punishment." Michael gave her a passionate kiss and added, "But, you've been pretty damn good so far," and smiled affectionately at her. "Time to get to my boat and I will work on dinner while you play with your friend. Deal?"

Connie grinned and nodded. "What about clothes?"

"Shower and dress in anything you want, as long as the collar and leash stay. Bring a bag with toothbrush and stuff. Be sure to bring soft-soled shoes, like workout shoes. For clothing, I recommend a blouse, bra, skirt, and no panties. I think you will want to be ready to ride your new bitch later."

Connie pulled back and looked astonished. "But, I'm not a lesbian."

Michael laughed and said, "Look, Connie, when you are in charge and she has to obey like a slave, it is hardly lesbianism. In fact, she isn't a woman. She is your sex slave, … your living and … breathing vibrator, … your imagination is the limit. Maybe she's just a set of lips and a tongue. No, it's not lesbianism." Michael kissed her partially naked form again and whispered into her ear, "I am visualizing you holding the tip of my hard cock and guiding it into her reluctant asshole. So, if we do it that way, … is it you or I that take her anal cherry? Hmmm, think about how delicious that would be. Imagine Carolyn twisting in agony as you look into her eyes and listen to her whimpers through the tight gag."

Connie couldn't help but moan at the thought. Her cunt contracted and her knees quivered. She grabbed her leash and headed into her bathroom to shower and freshen up.

While Connie was getting ready, Michael used his cell to warn Ingrid to set up shop in the engine compartment and finish acquainting herself with the digital editing system set up there to control the three cameras installed in the master stateroom. Within minutes, they were out of her home and proceeding to the marina. It was late afternoon, still hours from another gorgeous summer evening sunset.

Connie slid out of the passenger side of her car and breathlessly watched as her lover opened the trunk and effortlessly lifted out her large duffle bag containing the helpless Carolyn White. She picked up her own, much smaller overnight bag and followed as he led the way to the marina's pier. When Michael stopped at the huge sailboat, she halted in amazement. "That boat is huge," she told herself. "Your boat is fantastic," she said. "I had no idea that you were such a sailor."

He grinned back at her and said, "Wait until you see the interior. It is luxury afloat." Michael turned back to the boat and nimbly jumped onboard. Still carrying the heavy bag on one shoulder, he reached over and helped Connie somewhat more uncertainly hop aboard the schooner.

Michael set the bag down with a thump and said, "Let me give you the nickel tour and then you can get settled in the master suite." He held his hand out and Connie meekly rummaged through her bag for her leash. She clipped it to her dog collar and handed the free end to Michael. He grinned back and said, "You'll be off leash soon enough and leading your own bitch around."

Connie followed on the tour that ended in the aft master suite. She surveyed the luxurious room. The centerpiece was a queen-sized bed with cabinets beside and above the bed. The room abounded with wood cabinetry and trim. Cozy lamps and ample portholes provided plenty of light. "Oh, Michael, you have a Jacuzzi on your boat. I love relaxing in a tub before or after sex. This is definitely my favorite part of the boat."

Michael made no response other than to pull her towards him and he kissed her deeply as the leash was unclipped. He set the leash on the dresser and said, "I'll be right back with your friend. Remember to watch quietly while I get her prepped for you."

Connie quickly arranged her clothes in a few drawers and then moved into the bathroom to unpack her toiletries. Knowing that Michael's directions were to be followed exactly, she sat down in a comfortable armchair beside the bed and sat down to wait.

Michael climbed up the companionway and headed forward on the boat. He again hefted the bag containing Connie's rival, Carolyn White. Carolyn was thrown unceremoniously on the queen-sized bed beside Connie. Michael unzipped the bag and made sure that Carolyn's nasal passages were clear. Sure that his new toy was safe for the moment, Michael turned to Connie and said, "I have some toys that we need to outfit Carolyn with before we start. Give me about thirty minutes to get everything." Without waiting for a response, Michael turned and climbed up the companionway back onto the deck. He glanced quickly at his watch, and shaking his head, moved off the boat, down the pier. It was already 5:00 and Michael was a little late for a meeting with two hot chicks.

Ingrid sat in the much less luxurious accommodations of the engine room. Remarkably, it was well ventilated and cool with its own air vent from the boat's air handling system. She sat in a hastily borrowed folding chair in front of a makeshift worktable, staring at three laptop computer screens. Two of the laptops displayed wireless video images from IK-WB11 1.4 megapixel progressive scan CCDs mounted in corner bookcases. The two miniature wireless cameras in the master cabin sent flawless signals. The laptops' video display software provided remote pan and tilt features, an alarm, and motion detection. The third display came from a high-resolution camera mounted in the bulkhead directly facing the bed. Like the IK-WB11s, it was remotely adjustable, but was hard-wired to its laptop via a firewire. The laptops were configured into a network controlled by video production software, everything installed by the same local video arts and visual production firm that Michael Moore had used to record an earlier evening of humiliation for Connie Baxter and Ingrid Gaviard. Two cameras were currently focused on the bed and one camera was strategically aimed at the chair Connie was sitting in so primly. Ingrid grinned; she knew she was in for a long night, but it would have its own excitement.

Ingrid adjusted the field of view to include both Connie and Carolyn. She grinned, knowing the massive hard drives were already capturing the video feed. On the screen, Connie was staring daggers at the lithesome blonde strapped in uncomfortable, naked bondage. Connie's hands slid primly from her hips toward her pubic mound, forcing her skirt-clad legs apart. The fingers quested around her mound, the stimulation heating up the voluptuous real-estate agent. Ingrid zoomed in on another camera and switched recording from the wide shot to a narrow one of the hands squirming around the girl's crotch. "Naughty girl," she whispered as Connie's hand drifted down the skirt only to snake back up under it. The other hand joined the first and the woman's skirt slipped up, exposing a naked pussy with both hands furiously frigging away. "Bingo, the show begins," Ingrid said. The video was off to a perfect start, fulfilling her Master's prediction. "This will be great! He will be so pleased." Her fingers danced across the keyboard setting up the scene title and then cataloging the scene. It was the first of many delicious clips compiled for editing into the final video.

An earlier cell phone call from Michael had wakened his college girl / hookers in their motel room. Sophia, the blonde, had answered the call. Despite being a little tired from a late night assignation with a pair of businessmen on holiday, Sophia and Rochelle eagerly took on his challenge. Michael asked the two twenty-two years olds to visit the best sex shop they knew of on the island and purchase a long laundry list of items. Sophia laughed when told she would be equipping Michael's new toy, a sailing yacht, with sex toys. The girls had free reign in selecting anything else not on his list. Michael's only additional requests; remove the wrapping from each item and leave the receipts in the bag so he could reimburse them.

Feeling the luckiest man alive, Michael left the boat and headed up the pier to the Marina's restaurant. He found the brunette Rochelle sitting at the bar with her purse claiming the stool next to her. Michael walked up behind the young woman and catching her eyes in the bar mirror, hugged her strongly from behind. His hands slid around her trim hips to meet at her taut belly. "Hey girl, he said. "How's your summer going?"

Surprisingly, the brunette laid her head down against his arm and burst into silent tears. Michael pulled her off the stool and led her toward a booth in the corner of the bar area. She slumped down in the seat and continued to sob in apparent misery. Michael's face hardened at the sight and he waved away the approaching waitress. He slid in next to the distraught girl and wrapped his arms around her quivering form. After several seemingly never-ending minutes, he whispered into her ear, "Rochelle, tell me what is the matter? Maybe I can help?"

Rochelle shook her head slightly and nestled closer against Michael. She didn't speak.

Michael continued to hold the girl, trying to think of a way to break her out of her introspective funk. He decided to take charge of the situation and stood up abruptly, leaving Rochelle to sprawl down onto the cushioned seat. A twenty-dollar bill on the gleaming bar, a curt, "Two double vodkas on the rocks," and he was back at the booth.

Rochelle felt a bruisingly strong hand clasp her upper arm and she was yanked up off the safety of the leather bench. Before she could open her mouth to protest, Michael continued his tugging and she stumbled after him, struggling to regain her balance without falling on her face. Rochelle saw he was pulling her to the women's restroom. She tried to pull back, but his grip and momentum were unbreakable. The door whispered shut behind her and she turned to ask Michael what was going on, "Mich…" when her face exploded in agony. Rochelle felt her head spin sideways from the brutal slap and then her other cheek was struck a matching blow. Her knees buckled from the shock and she slid down his body to her knees. Her hands balanced herself on the back of his knees, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Strong stomach contractions were all the warning she had before her empty stomach churned and vomited acidic bile up her esophagus and onto the tile behind Michael's shoes. Even in her misery, she was aware that Michael had grasped her under the arms and kept her from falling forward onto her own vomit.

The woman between his feet was wracked with spasms as she began the dry-heaving stage of throwing up. Michael, still stone-faced, lifted the limp woman up and moved her toward the vanity. Her unresisting form was bent forward over the counter and her face titled into the sink. The stream of ice-cold water flowing out of the faucet, elicited a weak response from Rochelle. Michael forced the head to stay in place with one hand while his other sluiced the vomit from her chin. Two fingers forced her mouth open and his hand diverted clean water in to rinse out the taste of bile. Michael again manhandled the woman into a toilet stall and after setting her down on a toilet seat, kicked the door shut behind them. He straddled her seated form and grabbed her head with both hands.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Rochelle shook herself alert and tried to find the words to describe what she felt. She was still dazedly mulling over the words when his hand covered her mouth and her nipple was squeezed so tightly that she was sure it was being twisted off. The pain continued and Michael's head drew near hers.

"Rochelle," Michael started, "if you don't start talking I am going to take charge of finding out what is going on. This is pissing me off way too much. Start talking."

The painful twisting eased up and the hand against her mouth slowly relaxed its stranglehold grip before gently sliding away. She gasped a deep breath and started. "Last night," she hesitantly gasped out, still trying to regain her breath; "some businessmen picked up Sophia and I at a bar. They liked us and after finding out we were hookers, agreed to pay us for the night. It was a good gig, a thousand for each of us. We went to a nice restaurant for dinner." She took a deep breath and continued, "While we were at the restaurant, we bumped into a friend of theirs that was with another woman. She was hooking, like us. The men thought it was funny, all three with hookers for the night. Well, we stayed together during dinner and dancing afterwards. It was actually a lot of fun. Sophia and I like our clients to be happy and it was obvious that they were having a lot of fun."

"Oh, Michael," she cried, "I'm so ashamed of what I've become. It was so much fun pretending to be whores and making so much money. It was so perfect this morning. You called and we had a lot of fun buying your stuff. An hour or so ago, the bitch from last night called and told us she was our new manager and that we were her whores now. Michael, last night we told her we were college students and doing this for tuition and expense money. She has pictures of us fucking and playing around last night; with all three men. One night's pictures and we look like wanton sluts. Unless we cooperate, she will tell the school, our friends, and family about us. And, she wants us to work tonight at a house rented by a college fraternity."

Rochelle whimpered and cried for a few seconds and wailed, "It's gonna be a gangbang, Michael; she says we have to work at a gangbang. Our share is only two hundred dollars each for being fucked by over forty guys. The bitch says we are now only common whores working for her, not freelance high-paid hookers. As our pimp, she controls the take, five thousand dollars for the job." She broke down again and started silently sobbing.

Michael silently hugged the distraught girl and thought about the irony of the situation. Here he was incensed that some bimbo was controlling his friends and making them participate in a gangbang when he and Rochelle had done the exact same thing to Ingrid and Connie. Life was strange sometimes. One man's enjoyable blackmail was a crime to another. His head whirled with the possibilities and outcomes from different approaches of helping Rochelle and Sophia. Michael Moore cursed inwardly as he realized that his nice enjoyable, and somewhat complicated night, just became way more complex.

The cowed girl was puzzled by Michael's questions. "Rochelle, describe the girl you met last night. Is she good looking? Oh, and where is my stuff that you two just bought?"

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

Connie Baxter was amused by the change of plans, even if it delayed her chance at personal revenge until later on. Michael had explained to her about his two acquaintances, Sophia Lenz and Rochelle Grosso, and their summer plans for having fun while earning college money. She took in stride that fact that they were part-time hookers and earned money by prostituting themselves. Fortunately, she did not know that both young women were involved in her vaguely remembered night of lust and debauchery with Ingrid Gaviard. Connie was also incensed that another woman would try and take over the girls' lives by becoming their pimp. Michael explained that Connie could help humiliate both her rival, Carolyn White, and the would-be pimp. Connie was eager to help, viewing the evening as a heroic rescue of two slightly soiled doves.

The woman aspiring to become a pimp was named Rosella Koch, a twenty-seven year-old with a heart of stone. Sophia and Rochelle described her as a good-looking redhead, thin and leggy, with nice tight tits. She sounded like a redheaded version of Carolyn White; both very fuckable bitches with a need for character softening. Rosella had contracted with the treasurer of a nationally recognized fraternity to bring three sluts to their beach rental cottage for an evening of partying. The five-thousand dollar fee triggered Rosella's scheme to take over as business manager for Rochelle and Sophia; thus keeping most of the fee.

Rosella expected the women at her own little beach bungalow at 7:00. Michael and his conspirators had little time to prepare their double-cross. Sophia had been cued in via cell phone conversation with Michael. Connie was helping Rochelle to shower and put her looks back together again after her physical and mental collapse in the marina restaurant. That left Michael to prepare their unwilling partner in the evenings plan, Carolyn White.

Michael let Connie and Rochelle use his cabin to prepare while he dealt with Carolyn in a forward guest cabin. She lay, still strapped in a painful bent over position on the bed while he rummaged through the bags of toys purchased that morning by Rochelle and Sophia. Michael cut the strapping tape off her wrists and slipped a pair of wrist cuffs onto each of her slim arms. Each leather cuff was steel reinforced and included a small black leather bag sewn onto the cuff. Carolyn's hands had to be tightly clenched to fit into the restrictive bag and once buckled on, her hands were useless. Michael next loosened her bondage enough to slip a leather belt around her waist. The wrist cuffs were padlocked onto D-rings on the belt, tightly holding her wrists at waist level. A set of ankle cuffs were attached to her legs and a short hobble chain padlocked between them. More miniature locks were added to keep the belts and cuffs from being removed during the party. The woman's makeshift gag holding her gamy black panties was removed to be replaced with a devilish ringgag device. Unlike a normal ringgag, this one had mouthpiece-like recesses in the top and bottom to slip tightly over the victim's incisors. The sides of the ringgag included a winged ratchet mechanism built into the thick ring, allowing the circle of steel to open upward and downward into a growing oval. The threads on the device provided enough mechanical advantage to stress Carolyn's jaws to be breaking point. Thus, the ring was unremoveable even without the addition of a bulky, leather harness contraption. As a final bit of fiendishness, the wings slipped out, rendering the device nearly impossible to ratchet loose without the wings as unlocking keys. Michael carefully slid the tiny wings into his wallet. His bitch was now ready to unwrap.

Carolyn thought her jaw was going to break off her face from the agony of her overly stretched jaw musculature. The pain didn't lessen; it remained a throbbing, aching soreness. Unable to swallow, drool puddled in her mouth and dribbled down the side of her face. Blessedly, she felt the heavy nylon straps loosen further. Her first deep breath in hours shuddered through her diaphragm. The man unwrapped the heavy layer of wrapping covering her eyes. The sticky tape pulled painfully on her scalp. "Hoooo, hop it," she moaned. The bright light dazzled her eyes momentarily before she focused on the rugged handsome man she had abused in the real estate office. "Horry, horry. Hep hee," she begged. She was sorry but she knew wishing it was different would not change what she had done. Her joints ached so much from her tight bondage that she could barely move. The man tightly grabbed one of her breasts and held on as if it was his. She moaned in despair when she heard him say, "We gotta get you ready girl, you're gonna have a wild time tonight. It's your opening act as a prostitute. Did you know you're partying with forty frat boys tonight?" He jammed something into her pussy and she felt a cool sensation spread along her inner walls. Unable to resist, she was rolled onto her tummy and the same thing went into her ass. "Gotta get these holes lubed up and ready for fun tonight," he muttered. "Girl, you gonna be a three-holer. You know what that means?" he taunted her.

Michael admired the slim ass in front of his face; her cheeks were streaked with sex lube from her pussy and rectum. He held up a massive black dildo that the girls probably got as a joke. It was easily eighteen inches long and was massively thick the entire length of the ribbed giant. The head was apple-sized. Michael nestled the head around in the slight recess at her asshole and then shifted the now-slippery cock to her hairless pussy. The black device looked positively obscene next to the tiny pussy lips of the woman. Without further foreplay, Michael buried the monster into her cunt in one smooth movement, halting only when the giant head thumped hard against her cervix. Easily seven inches of the dildo remained outside her cunt, leaving eleven inches to punish her insides. Michael cupped three fingers tightly together and jammed all three deep into her barely prepared ass. The woman had started to writhe in pain when the cock struck her cervix and then she wailed in anguish at the additional assault on her nether passage. Michael grinned at the response and rolled his fingers around, deeply stretching her anal ring and smearing the slippery gel around her intestinal wall.

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

Connie sat in the rear seat of her own car, tightly clenching the leash leading to Carolyn who was buckled into the seat beside her. Except for a pair of high heels, Carolyn was naked, a fetching sight with her ringgag and leather waist strap. Connie smirked at the terrified woman and looked down at herself with approval. She was wearing the outfit she had selected earlier that day for an evening at dinner with Michael. "It is still appropriate for leading a bitch like Carolyn on her debut as a prostitute," she thought. She kicked her sandal-clad feet and admired her legs in the tight sundress she wore. It felt deliciously naughty to be in public without panties or bra. She sniffed surreptitiously to be sure the musky scent she smelled was not coming from her own dripping wet cunt. "No," she thought with relief, "the smell is coming from Carolyn. The bitch must have gotten hot when Michael loosened her up earlier." She had quietly moaned to herself in lust when he described how he prepared the woman by jamming a dildo into her cunt and then nearly fisting her ass. "The bitch deserves whatever happens," she whispered.

She glanced up the Michael and Rochelle in the front seat. "Rochelle looks much more relaxed and composed," she thought. "I did a good job cleaning her up," she smugly congratulated herself.

Actually, Rochelle now looked normal. Gone were the puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. The girl was much more relaxed and mentally ready for the upcoming evening. She was whispering into her cell phone, letting Sophia know exactly where they were located. The plan was to arrive simultaneously at Rosella Koch's bungalow.

Michael grinned with confidence as he drove toward the rapidly setting sun. He hoped the girls didn't pick up his uncertainties about his plan. "Too much can go wrong," he mused to himself. A glance into his mirror confirmed that Sophia had pulled her car behind them. The girls' rundown vehicle was unmistakable. Rochelle closed her cell phone and indicated that Rosella's driveway was just ahead. The game was on.

Michael Moore's plan was not subtle. He simply stood back when Sophia and Rochelle knocked on the door and strode in confidently after them. Twin taser darts magically appeared in her slim throat and she dropped like a rock. As planned, Sophia and Rochelle quickly moved through the bungalow to be sure that there were no other houseguests. Rosella had disclosed that she lived alone and had no family on the island. She was from somewhere out west and was estranged from her family and friends. Michael quickly bent the woman over and handcuffed her wrists to her ankles while he prepared her bondage. The cruel ringgag was first. While cranking the ring tightly into his mouth, he heard Connie Baxter walk into the entry tugging a reluctant Carolyn. She was covered with a shapeless Mumu-style dress, arms and all.

Sure that the quaint two bedroom cottage was empty, Sophia and Rochelle returned with Rosella's shaving gear. Her cunt was soon denuded and as bald as a ten-year-old's pussy. Michael finished cutting off her clothes while the girls were busy. Within minutes of their arrival, Rosella Koch's control of her life had drastically shifted.

Then Michael sprang his surprise on Sophia and Rochelle. "Girls, head into the kitchen. Connie has some paperwork for you two to sign. She is your purchasing agent for this house. Rosella is going to sell it to you momentarily."

Sophia and Rochelle stood dumbstruck before they figured out what he was saying. They looked at each other, swept glances around the darling little two bedroom bungalow, and jumped into each other's arms. Michael just grinned and focused his attention back to the little padlocks he was feeding through the restraining latches on Rosella's waist belt and cuffs. The girls shrieked and ran into the kitchen. Their joy was infectious and Connie joined in. Only Rosella and Carolyn were unhappy with developments.

Rosella sat in her own kitchen fully restrained except for her right arm. Twin burn marks between her breasts attested to the fact that Michael had acquainted her with the painful effect of a stun gun. Every muscle in her body ached from the muscle stress induced from the taser and then two high-impedance discharges from the stun gun. From extensive experience, Michael Moore – also known as Aaron Clarke, head of the East Coast Slavers Organization, knew that the gun's 625 thousand volts of high frequency energy pulsed deeply through muscles, nearly instantly depleted blood sugar by converting it to lactic acid. The neurological impulses also traveled throughout a human body, interrupting muscle movement, causing disorientation and loss of balance. After his little demonstration of what punishment would start with, Rosella was eager to cooperate when he brought her into the kitchen. Michael made no explanations, he simply demanded that she sign and pointed out where. Within two minutes, Rosella Koch no longer owned her bungalow, it had been signed away for two hundred-fifty thousand dollars.

After Connie led the two bondage twins, Rosella and Carolyn, back into the living room, Sophia turned to Michael, "Michael, this is wonderful; but, we have no money to buy this place."

Michael smiled and said, "Girls, don't worry. You get this place for free. Connie is coming into a lot of money this week and she will establish a money trail that goes from you two, into escrow, to Rosella Koch, back into an escrow account for her, and then the money will vanish along with Rosella. Meanwhile, Connie gets her money back, Rosella already signed her acceptance letter stating she got the money in cash, and you two have a free bungalow."

Connie smiled at the girls and said, "It's true. All very illegal, but true; nobody will ever prove otherwise. Trust me; I'm a very experienced real estate agent."

Michael chimed in, "True and I will make sure that Rosella finds another occupation beside that of pimp. She will end up a full-time whore somewhere with her own, very strict, caretaker. Welcome to your new home girls. Remember though, our next meeting is with some frat boys who will pay you for your last job as hookers. After tonight, that part of your life is over for good. After all this is over, I will explain the new ground rules of your lives. They will focus your lives more on school and careers."

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 28 – The Fraternity Party (or Connie Helps Out the College Girls)

The beach house rented by the fraternity was one of the modern, two-story ones built in a trendy area of the island. It featured a private beach and was well secluded from its neighbors. The home was a good choice for a bunch of guys who might get too rowdy during their parties. Connie pulled her two leashed charges out of the car and none too gently yanked them into position behind her. "Stay cunts," she commanded.

Rochelle and Sophia got out of the car and clustered around Michael. "Alright girls, time to flip to see who will play the callgirl and who will be the business manager. Their treasurer is gonna pay you five thousand in cash for three girls. Who will be the third one?"

"Connie," Rochelle called out with a grin, "are you a betting girl? How about getting into this action?"

Connie mutely shook her head in the negative and thought, "No way, girls. I am not the hooker here. Despite the five thousand dollars, this deal smacks of hard-core prostitution."

Sophia pouted and said, "Hey, it's for our tuition, room, and board money this upcoming fall and spring semester. That's the only reason for doing this. Besides, Michael says it's our last gig. You know how he is, once he makes up his mind, its done.

Each of the college girls wore a lightweight summer sports jacket; open over identical outfits. With miniskirts and tube tops, they were dressed for a beach party. The jackets lent a modicum of modesty to a party-girl look. Michael pulled a coin out of his pocket and flipped it up into the air. "Since Connie won't play; one of you two call it heads or tails."

The girls quickly looked at each other and Sophia called out, "Heads."

The coin landed on the crushed shell driveway and it was clearly tails. Sophia slipped off her jacket and threw it into Connie's car along with her purse. Rochelle smiled and clapped her hands, "Girls! Showtime." She turned and slid her arm behind Michael's and the two of them headed through the gathering dusk toward the house.

Michael knocked and a tall, good-looking kid opened the door. He grinned at Rochelle and said, "Wow! Come on in and we can make our final arrangements."

Connie and Sophia remained at the car along with the two miserable prisoners. Sophia silently took Rosella's chain and sat down sideways on the car's back seat. Rosella was forced to shuffle forward to follow the lead chain as Sophia took up the slack. When the miserable blonde stood between her widely stretched legs, Sophia pulled down hard. Rosella fell to the sharp gravel, her voluminous dress the only protection to her knees. "I'm bored, cunt. Help me get excited and ready for the party."

Rosella's knees ached from having most of her body weight slammed down onto the crushed seashell gravel. As an experienced prostitute, she was no stranger to oral sex; the loss of control and the humiliation made her present situation horrible. The next tug pulling her into the blonde's pussy was inevitable. The twin burns between her breasts still ached in enough of a reminder of what failure might portent with punishment. She muttered to herself, "You bitch! I'll get even with you." Outwardly, she exuded cooperation as her tongue slipped through her hideously outstretched jaws and quested around the woman's outer pussy lips.

Connie looked on aghast as the young woman grabbed Rosella's head and ground it around her groin. Sophia looked up and grinned. "You ought to take some revenge before these two get so fucked out tonight that you can't get a reaction anymore. Besides, nothing like a little tongue action to get you in a better mood."

Connie thought, "What the hell," and seated herself sideways in the front passenger seat. The open doors shielded her from direct view of the house or Sophia. Connie tugged her prisoner forward and Carolyn shuffled up with much more reluctance than Rosella. Eager now, Connie pulled the captive forward and down. Carolyn actually fell to the ground and toppled into Connie's bare pussy in one out of balance movement. The panting woman's hot breath across her pussy heated up the sexy real estate agent. She decided to match Sophia's technique and grabbed a set of ears and viciously dragged the woman's gapping maw around her cunt. "Lick hard, bitch, or I will show these frat boys what a whore's punishment session is like." Connie had no personal concept of what such a session entailed; she only made the threat because it sounded right.

Inside the house, the frat treasurer grinned weakly and introduced himself as 'John.' John, despite his youth, knew enough to review the terms of the arrangement before he paid up in cash. "I contracted with a Rosella for three party girls. She said she had three hot chicks we could have free use of from nine o'clock tonight until four in the morning tomorrow. Is that right?"

Rochelle walked up and gave him a deep kiss. "Honey, for five thousand in cash, that's what you will get. My girls are outside waiting now. Since you have forty horny college kids here I decided to bring my bodyguard," she nodded over at Michael, "and another girlfriend to just look over things. You get three girls and three protectors who will stay out of the way of your party; but, we'll be here to keep everyone safe."

John grinned and said, "Girl if your friend is as cute as you, then we get two good looking chicks at the party for free. You can have as much food and drink as you please. Maybe you'll get feeling good and jump in for free."

Rochelle smiled and grabbed his arm, "Give me a tour while I explain my idea for your party. It will blow your mind. Then, you can meet the girls for final approval before you pay me my money." Rochelle drifted off into the empty house. John told them that the guys were out on a chartered fishing trip and due back at about nine o'clock that evening. That gave John an hour to get the girls ready and start up the barbeque for the party's dinner. Michael wandered over to the bar and noted the full compliment of booze and beer. The kitchen was heaped with trays of food and through the living room window, he saw that a bonfire was already prepared on the outskirts of the beach below. "These guys really have some money," he thought. "Time to get the bitches inside."

John's eyes lit up when he saw the two blondes enter the house. Sophia and Connie looked great. His face then reflected some shock when he saw the dowdy clothes covering the next two women. Rochelle had warned him already that two of the girls partying tonight were kinky and liked being forced to participate. John told her that was fine; a lot of guys just wanted to get their rocks off and then go back to the party. He thought Sophia's ideas for the night were perfect. His only concern was that only one girl would be free to wander among the forty guys partying.

Michael led the two cowed prisoners back to the bedrooms while Sophia made the introductions between John, Rochelle, and Connie. Michael found what he was looking for in the first bedroom; a large overstuffed chair. He tied off Rosella's leash to a doorknob while he prepared Carolyn. Michael had decided to severely restrain both women so that the guys could have free rein fucking away at any of their three holes without protest.

Carolyn stood passively, mostly in shock, as the rugged brute tied off the other woman's leash. She cringed as he approached her and leaned down to grasp the hem of her tent-like dress. Hoooo," she moaned. "Hop it. Horry, … horry, … horry," she continued to beg in an ever more quiet voice. Her plight was awful and she truly wished that it had turned out different. The dress caught momentarily on her boobies and she felt them jostle up and then down before the room's cool air wafted across her naked body. The man pinched both her nipples and taunted her by saying, "You threatened me with charges of rape. In your case, the punishment will fit the crime. Tonight you will get more sex than you ever dreamed a woman could get in a lifetime of conniving and cheating. Enjoy because you will probably see a lot of use like this in the next few years."

"Nooo!" she wailed inwardly. "I just wanted revenge on that tight-assed bitch Connie. Who will help me now?" Her thoughts were interrupted as her belly thumped hard against the chair. The sensitive skin on her tummy was irritated by the rough comforter he had thrown over the chair to protect its covering. The cruel man fumbled with her ankles and suddenly one leg was pulled over and she thought maybe it was tied off to the chair leg. When her other leg was pulled out toward the other side of the chair, she knew she was being tied open and available. "Oh, my God! Maybe there is really going to be a gangbang here tonight?" While she had fully realized he was going to punish her, she had still hoped that tomorrow would bring her apology and then freedom. It was sinking in that maybe she would never get out of this predicament.

Again, her self-musings were interrupted when he yanked her back upright to snake a rope across her back and under her arms. The sliding nylon rope burned her armpits and she cried in pain from the abuse. Then the rope pulled her forward again and her body was forced to lean far forward over the chair. This time, she could see what he was doing as the ropes were fed down between the cushions and through the chair's springs. After the rope was tied off he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her face up, his groin was only inches from her drooling, gaping mouth. She heard him grunt in approval and her head was released to slump back down. Her long blonde hair covered her face in an unruly mess. The chair and her tightly bound form shifted positions and now she could only see the bed and the back wall of the room. Her cunt and ass were now aimed directly at the bedroom entry. She felt his hands fumble around with her ass and she prepared herself for rape.

Michael busied himself with a few final touches around the room. He pulled a nightstand over beside the sofa from beside the bed and heaped it with eight dozen lubricated latex condoms. He took a black permanent marker from his pocket and studied the white canvas of her trim ass. Across the small of her back, he penned 'No Holes Barred' and followed up with 'My Name is Cunt' on one luscious ass cheek and No Flowers Please' on the other. Michael saw a decorative vase in the bathroom and set it down on the nightstand with embroidered it with "Tips Please.' He surveyed the text on her trim ass and admired her hairless pussy peeking back at him before delivering a stinging slap hard onto each delicious cheek. As he turned back into the hall, he heard her begin sobbing. With such a poetic outcome to her threats and bitchiness, he had proven once again that justice can be poetic.

Carolyn heard the other woman's chain leash clatter off the doorknob and they left her alone. Carolyn pondered her fate in misery.

Rosella was led down toward the next bedroom. She had stoically watched while the powerful man had prepared the blonde. Even she had to admit that the girl made a mouth-watering decoration. The writing was especially humiliating. She guessed that she would be displayed identically in the next bedroom. The man tugged again and she hobbled after as best she could.

Michael decided to change the scene in this room and he felt that Rosella deserved something a little less comfortable. He threw the woman onto the bed, back down, and his bag of toys thumped down beside her. Rosella's arms were unclipped from her waist belt, one by one, and tied off loosely to the bed's headboard. Michael laid a long nylon strap across her hips and then unhobbled her ankles, each to be drawn up to its matching elbow. The result was a severely bent over whore ready for fucking. He drew her ass to the extreme foot of the bed and ran the strap under the bed. Once tightened, her ass sunk inches into the mattress; but, still completely available for sex in either orifice. As a last touch, Michael drew the woman up by the shoulders and slid a pillow under them, letting her face fall limply back onto the mattress. After tightening the ropes holding her arms, there was plenty of room between mouth and headboard for a kneeling fraternity boy to comfortably face fuck her mouth.

Within the bag of toys purchased by the girls were several gag items that he thought might work on Rosella Koch. Michael picked up the tube marked Vaginal Itching Cream. Its ingredients included a sexual lubricant and a mild irritant. Michael wasn't sure it would have any effect, but decided to try it out. He ran his hand over the smoothly shaved pussy and jammed the open tube deeply into her cunt before squeezing half inside. There was sufficient overflow to dip the nozzle in and then slide it into the tighter rectum.

Rosella could hardly breath from the horridly bent over position she was in. She struggled to raise her head to see what was happening. Her poor defenseless pussy was open to the room just inches away from her nose. She saw a tube of something rudely jammed into her cunny. It hurt something terrible before the cream he pumped in soothed away some of the pain. His next move started out as pleasure and then changed to horror. The tip of the tube rubbed around her open pussy lips, encouraging extra blood flow and stimulation. Then the tip dipped down to her anus and plunged in. Her head thumped down below her shoulders to the mattress. She now looked directly at the headboard.

The still form of the hideously bend over woman beckoned him forward. It was time to leave her messages to the frat boys. This time he prepared himself to write on the backs of her thighs as they pointed straight up toward the ceiling. He started with "I like it Hard!" on leg and then carefully formed 'Call Me Whore." Lastly, he wrote in an arch across both her exposed ass cheeks, 'My Ass is Tightest.'

Michael dipped his hands into the bag for another of the toys, the massive black dildo that hopefully was meant as a joke. It was still filthy from breaking in Carolyn White for tonight's party. Michael nestled the apple-sized head of the eighteen-inch long giant cock around the slippery lips of her pussy and pushed hard. The black dildo sunk smoothly into her hairless pussy. Michael felt the ribs on the fake cock vibrate as they forced their way past the tautly stretched pussy lips and then it bottomed out. Without pause, Michael began a blurringly fast fucking motion with the fake cock. Within three minutes, he had fucked her with hundreds of deep strokes and his arms began to ache from the workout. Sweat dripped down onto her squirming fuck mound as he pulled it out and aimed at the shiny brown grommet of her ass. The anal ring resisted the entry of the massive cock head, forcing Michael to lean down with all his weight and drive it deep into her narrowest passage. She howled below him as the gigantic dick tore into her bowels. It was forced deeper inside the intestinal tract than her pussy had accepted. At least fourteen inches of black, ribbed cock opened her up to the size of a coke can. He pistoned it up and down, nearly as fast as he had raped her much more resilient cunt. Michael grinned at the her obviously pained response and kept on brutally fucking away. Finally, he pulled out the cock and stepped back. Her wide-open asshole pointed up like a red cavern.

As a rental unit, each of the two guest rooms were furnished nearly identically. Thus, it was easy to draw the nightstand toward the foot of the bed and top it with a vase from the bathroom. The three bedroom cottage had a bathroom for each upstairs bedroom. Michael grinned as he wrote 'Tips Please' on the vase and rummaged through his bag for four dozen lubricated condoms and four dozen heavily ribbed French Tickler condoms. "The extra stimulation will wear hard on her ass and cunt," he thought.

Michael went back downstairs to find his other three girls. Connie stood alone in the corner by the well-stocked bar mixing herself a Vodka Collins and Sophia and Rochelle were outside enjoying the beach view. The fraternity brothers started to drift back to their rental cottage from the day's fishing. They were pretty reserved at first.

John came up to Michael and with a huge shit-eating grin on his young face said, "Man! This is fantastic. I just tried out that blonde woman upstairs and she was so tight; not at all what I expected. Of course," he added, "we are paying top dollar for our entertainment."

Michael clapped him on the back and said simply, "Good! Glad you kids are gonna have fun; satisfaction is guaranteed."

John leaned in close and quietly added, "The only thing is, … I wonder, … is three hot chicks enough for my forty guys?"

Michael waved Rochelle over and said, "John is worried that there isn't enough food on the menu tonight."

Rochelle beamed a bright smile at John and snuggled in close. "I can help out my friend," and she pointed to Sophia who was dancing among a crowd of guys; "but we need to renegotiate our arrangements then." She rubbed her breasts against the fraternity's moneyman and surreptitiously copped a feel of his tight ass.

The now brash-acting frat boy flushed and mumbled, "Well, the problem is, I think we need even more girls for dancing and drinking with. The ones upstairs are perfect for taking off the edge, but it would be nice to slip behind the dunes, into a car, or the last bedroom for some real two-way sex."

Rochelle liked the way the conversation was going. If it was to be their last night hooking, per Michael's earlier demand, then she wanted to maximize her profit on her last hurrah. Plus, she was worried that Sophia would get worn out. "OK, let's talk about adding me to the party for another one thousand. That's a bargain, I promise. You can be first with me if you want, baby."

John, flushed again and hastily said, "Sure, I'll pay you a thousand extra, but I really want to add in the other blonde," and he pointed to Connie where she stood by the bar, drinking another Vodka Collins while she swayed gently to the DJ's music.

Michael laughed quietly and grinned widely at this comment. "Tell you what, John. I'll try and talk her into it, but it will take two thousand more. She is no pro and you'd be getting prime pussy. Don't get me wrong, Rochelle and Sophia are better fucks than you will ever find in life; but Connie doesn't mess around and that's worth something to you and your mates."

John grinned, and as he thought how well this would work, out his confidence visibly returned. "The extra money and the two girls are a deal if we can keep all the girls until noon tomorrow."

Michael and Rochelle nodded together and Michael said, "Well, she is my date for the night; but, if she can leave at four in the morning, you can have the other four till noon. Oh, and only three guys an hour for Connie. The same rule applies to Rochelle and Sophia unless they want multiple partners. Deal?"

The fraternity boy's grin got even bigger and he nodded.

"OK, Rochelle," Michael added, "go even up with John here and maybe seal the deal in the third bedroom; it's empty now. I'll go work on Connie." Michael nonchalantly headed over to the self-service bar where he drew a draft beer into a twenty-four ounce plastic cup. "Come on, Connie," he said, "let's go outside and see what's going on." She flowed into his arms and they drifted outside.

A steady stream of guys drifted in and out of the house. Some came in and out for more food and drink or dancing with Sophia. Others came downstairs with big grins on their faces from dumping loads of cum into condoms while fucking one or more of the girls upstairs. Outside, the lure was the large bonfire, the grilled meats, and the peace and beauty of the beach.

Michael sat sideways on a concrete bench in the shadow of the house after arranging a huge stack of beach towels into a mattress across the cold concrete. He drew Connie down in from of him; his arms slipped possessively around her shoulders and he used her big breasts as handles to pull her back against his chest. The roving hands had free access to her fleshy charms.

She moaned in appreciation and whispered, "Oh, thank God. I'm so horny I could burst, and we've already had sex twice today." She hesitated and continued in a whisper, "Michael, those girls upstairs, .. oh, yes, keep rubbing me that way. Oh, that feels nice. Anyway, it's so hot to watch them getting stuffed full with more than one guy."

The squirming woman leaned back against his chest, her dress hiked up to her waist and her tits hanging in the open through her completely unbuttoned blouse. One big male hand mauled her breasts while the other dug deep into her moist pussy.

Michael knew she was ready to fuck and eased her facedown to the thick layer of towels on the concrete bench. He slid her blouse free of her skirt and grabbing the hem of her skirt, rolled it up tightly to form a ring around her waist. Then, he scooted her ass back to one end of the bench. He grabbed more towels and improvised a thick roll of towels to slide under her soft belly, raising her cunt up to a perfect angle for sex. His tongue burrowed its way into her musky pussy and deeply explored her cunt. Initially, he rubbed her downy-soft ass with his big hands, and then he snuck one hand down to grab a condom. While her hungry pussy undulated with need for a hard fuck, he reached into his pocket again for two more items. As the silk trousers drifted down to his ankles, his big knob explored around the wet entry to her pussy.

"Nice, Michael," Connie moaned, "keep going, please. Oh, I'm ready. Fuck me."

Michael kept up the circling motion with his cockhead around her loosening lips and said, "Connie, your pussy is up in the air, are you ready for fucking just like those girls upstairs. Is it nice?"

The horny woman groaned and clearly said, "Yes, … it is nice, … but, fuck me, please, … fuck me like your bitch, … hard and deep."

"But, Connie," Michael whispered, "am I fucking your pussy or is this just a piece of ass like that whore Carolyn? Are you helpless for sex like Carolyn, that slutty blonde bitch?"

The hour of drinking before the arrival of the fraternity boys and then the next hour of drinking while lithe and lusty guys fucked the two girls senseless upstairs had loosened Connie's normally reserved libido. She raised her ass higher and moaned, "Fuck me, nowwww!" When the tantalizing sensations around her wet cunt continued, she groaned again with horny abandon and finally said, "Yes, Michael, fuck your slutty blonde bitch. Hard! Fuck me like Carolyn, … hard with no mercy."

As her voice grew ever louder, Michael prepared for the perfect moment before he drove deep into her inner realm with a violent shove. She quieted except for a long, drawn-out grunt of satisfaction. Michael pulled out, swiveled his hips around in two circles, and plunged in again to bury his prick, balls-deep in her core. Setting all his weight against her upraised ass gave him a few moments of stability to generously douse a small mirror with cocaine smuggled into the Virgin Islands inside Ingrid Gaviard's pussy. The customs agents in the United States and the British Virgin Islands were not worried about flights from the United States, as everyone knew drugs flowed into the United States, not out of the mainland.

Michael wildly twirled his hips, stirring his stick around her juicy box and latched his mouth against the tender flesh below her ear. Hips still thrusting to her increasing groans of lust, he slipped his hands close to her face. He bit hard, just as he clasped a hand tightly over her gasping mouth, and slid the cocaine-covered glass under her nostrils. She gasped in hard, in a panic for a breath of air and her hips wildly bucked as the drug instantly overloaded her system. Her cunt responded to her avalanche of orgasms by clamping again and again against his rock-hard dick. With each gasping, snorting breath, the mirror shifted, dumping more high-quality cocaine into her system. Michael pulled his still-hard cock out and buried his face once again in her steaming pussy. He pulled back to wipe the dusty mirror across her wet clit before leaning in to nibble at the flesh.

Connie's increasingly eager verbal responses to the fucking drew a crowd of boys as well as Sophia. Sophia, who knew about John's newly negotiated deal, gaily told the crowd, "Guys, I have lots of condoms. Come forward and I'll number them for you in red marker. She is available anywhere on the property during your turn for twenty minutes. Come on, who's first?"

The guys eagerly cued up and after a few minutes Sophia set a cardboard scrap on the picnic table along with a pile of condoms and the red permanent marker. "Write down your number on the condom and the cardboard. Enjoy the hot bitch. I'll be inside dancing for a few minutes before Rochelle and I both begin taking reservations; green marker for me and hot pink for Rochelle."

The guys cheered and the first one in line, a powerfully built boy with a fresh, farm-boy look, pulled off his shirt and trousers, revealing his massive muscles. He threw down his empty condom foil and with a shouted, "Number One," buried himself in her slick pussy. "Eiiii," he yelled as he started to rapidly fuck into the upraised sex.

Connie was so wrapped up in her drug-induced high that she merely grunted and thrust up against his cock when it entered her well prepared pussy. The cocaine would keep her wildly fucking like a sex-crazed fuck-bunny for at least an hour.

Michael finished tucking in his rumpled shirt and resolved to return in a while to be sure that Connie continued to enjoy her second stint at a gangbang. He thought she would get much more sex from the forty fraternity kids than the restaurant and hotel staff dished out during her earlier experience.

The DJ's music was still in full swing with Sophia and Rochelle the center of attention, dancing with at least ten guys. Michael did the math; ten guys waiting in line for Connie, ten guys with the two college girls, leaves about twenty sex fiends upstairs with his newest acquisitions. He decided to slip upstairs and see how things were going.

Carolyn's room was a study in surreal strangeness. She was being double-teamed by one guy on each side of the sofa and six more guys sat around the room with plates piled high with food and big cups of beer. Two other young men stood naked, waiting for their turn to take over fucking once somebody shot off into their condom. "Hmmm, that's ten guys. Does Rochelle have another ten guys cued up to fuck her?"

Meanwhile, in the next room, John was buried to the hilt in Rosella's incredibly tight ass. Her membranes, irritated from two hours of non-stop fucking, along with the sexual irritant cream, made her insides feel like molten candle wax to John's stiff fuckmeat. He saw Michael and shouted, "Her ass feels like a furnace. This is my third fuck and it's going on for twenty minutes." Given his hunched over position that completely balanced his body weight on her rectum, his head blocked anyone from throat fucking the helpless sex meat.

"John," Michael shouted back, "lean back in the saddle so your buddy can get to her mouth."

The frat boy looked startled as he realized that he was hogging the woman and he shifted his weight back to settle his feet on the floor. Immediately, another frat brother knee-walked forward against her back-thrust head and buried his latex-covered cock in her mouth. He sighed with pleasure and said, "Wow, nice! The whore's nose is getting bitch-slapped by my balls. John, great job on the entertainment; it's worth every penny."

Michael saw that the sweat-streaked, would-be-whoremaster had been ridden hard. The pile of sticky, used condoms at the foot of the bed indicated that dozens of boys had been satisfied when their loads squirted off. Her dank hair and the weary snorting breaths from under the bouncing ball sacks were further testimony to her ordeal.

When John finally pulled out of her swollen red ass, Michael motioned the waiting boy to hold on. Carefully tapping the cylinder of cocaine, Michael measured a generous dose directly into her open rectum and across her bruised clit. He stepped back to let the fucking continue.

Rosella immediately came to life when the next college dick buried itself deep into her ass. It was obvious that she was exploding in orgasm from the hypersensitive condition of her cocaine-covered nerves. Her abdominal muscles ripples as her orgasms struck again and again. After she lapsed into abject unconsciousness, Michael let the two boys finish before he called for a thirty-minute break for the poor sex slave.

By the time he returned downstairs, the party had progressed to a new level. All three girls were wildly dancing, topless, with young pert boobs bouncing about. Connie still wore her wide-open blouse, but her skirt had been replaced by either Connie's or Rochelle's stretchy tube-top. Connie's fleshy ass cheeks peeked out from under the makeshift miniskirt and as she turned while dancing, her pussy winked out in plain sight.

The DJ had taken on the job of announcing over his speaker system each time twenty minutes elapsed. At that point, different guys would approach Connie, Sophia, and Rochelle for a few minutes of dancing and negotiating. Once the sex act, a fuck or suck, and location were agreed upon, they drifted away in pairs for a quickie fuck or suck. Occasionally over the long night, a disgruntled fraternity brother would be stuck on the dance floor after the twenty-minute announcement with no girl. He would have to track down the wayward couple, interrupt the ongoing sex act, and quickly jump on the whore himself as the clock kept going.

Michael roughly calculated that Sophia and Rochelle could each have forty-five twenty-minute 'dates' during their fifteen hour stint at the party. Many of these liaisons would begin to include less sex as the long night went on. After all, even college boys can't fuck indefinitely.

Connie, with sixteen opportunities for sexual abandonment during her four-hour shift, would be kept busy fucking. It was unlikely that the boys would tire of sex with her by four in the morning, the negotiated end of her commitment.

If each fraternity kid was able to complete six acts of intercourse over the fifteen hour party, then two hundred and forty condoms would be filled with gooey white jism. Potentially, Sophia, Rochelle, and Connie were available for less than one hundred of those fucking and sucking induced orgasms. That meant that with the ability to service up to three jackhammering studs each, Carolyn and Rosella would carry the rest of the burden. The two girls could provide quick gratification to about thirty-six men each during an hour of constant hip-thumping sex. Given that the lines upstairs with the bondage sluts was short compared with the downstairs girls, it was likely that the eager boys would spill most of their loads in condoms while fucking the helpless tied up pussies. Thus, with potentially hundreds of quick, violent fucks drawn to the shorter lines, Carolyn and Rosella would unwittingly shield the other three girls from a sexual overload.

Around eleven that night, Michael sat on the same concrete bench where Connie started her debut as a prostitute and speed-dialed a number into his cell phone. He held a brief whispered conversation with his conspirator, Ingrid Gaviard. Ingrid was bored from her long unexpected wait alone on the sailboat and wanted to bring one of her high-quality video cameras to the beach house to record the night's festivities. Michael told Ingrid to hold off until he cleared the idea with John to be sure it was alright.

Once John understood that Ingrid would only be recording the three whores and the two cunts in their sex acts, he agreed with three provisos. First, he wanted to preview the video to be sure no fraternity members were identifiable. Secondly, since the camera person was a female, he wanted to first break her in with his own twenty minute liaison. Lastly, if she was a cute as the other women, and since Michael was getting a hot video out of the deal, he wanted to feature her in a free drawing among the guys. The winner could lock himself in the third bedroom with her alone from two in the morning until noon. No sharing on the last, fresh piece of pussy left in the vacation cottage.

Michael grinned at this and said, "Nice. Guess it never hurts to try and negotiate your best deal. OK, I'll leave this up to Ingrid. But, in return I want Connie free at one in the morning to take home. After all, she is my date for the night, not your rental fucktoy."

John couldn't care less about letting Connie loose early. He felt getting a chance at a sixth hot whore in one night was worth anything. Plus, he knew the guys would slow down soon and not need all the girls. "Besides," he told himself, "its only eleven at night and I've already fucked both those kinky bitches upstairs as well as Rochelle. I'm already signed up for the two blondes, Connie and Sophia."

Optimistic, he felt sure that he could get it up three more times in the next two hours. "OK, man," he replied, 'it's a deal if you get Ingrid to agree. Then she can film about four and a half hours of sex before her bedtime at four in the morning."

Michael phoned Ingrid back and gave her instructions for the rest of the night. Despite not having an option, Ingrid was eager for some action.

At 11:30, Ingrid got out of her cab in front of the secluded beach house. The high-level of party activity was unnoticeable from the street beyond the faint sound of music drifting through the stunted trees. Ingrid straightened up the seams in her stocking and lined up her garters. She wore a French Maid costume that clearly showed off her garters and provided tantalizing peaks of her black, sheer panties. To add to the mystery and hide her identity from the already impaired Connie, Ingrid snapped a concealing opera mask over her face and shouldered her camera bag.

Michael met Ingrid at the door and kissed her boldly on her lips, easily available under the half mask. He also took a few blatant gropes that were noticed by some of the guys in the living room. Michael raised one wet finger from where he had tested her excitement through an open gusset in her crotchless panties and whiffed it. "Hmmm, nice and aromatic. Are you hot tonight, Ingrid," he asked.

Ingrid did a quick shimmy, shaking her lush titties and smiled. Her lips were red and shiny below the white opera mask. She slid the camera bag free to hand over as John approached with a huge, shit-eating grin on his face.

"You go girl! You are so hot!"

Ingrid leaned back to wink at Michael as if to say, "Watch this bitch in action." With undulating hips, she pulled the boy outside onto the deck.

Michael wasn't sure how quickly she would conquer the boy. After all, getting him to pop off quickly was harder with each successive climax. "His balls have to getting empty soon. The little prick is randy as a goat." He moved over to the bar to see what kinds of beer were on ice.

Outside, Ingrid looked for a dark corner to get finished with the kid. She wanted no distractions from her mission to film the other five girls in various acts of sexual debauchery. She pushed him against a wall of the house, popped open her blouse, and stuck his hands on her braless tits. Then, she reached up to clasp his head and locked her lips tightly against his while grinding her ruffled, miniskirt-covered groin against his.

She grinned in triumph when her pubic mound felt his cock thicken from her stimulation. Still maintaining her wild tongue battle with John, she sent her hands down to quest for his belt. Less than two minutes after first laying eyes on John, her lips slid a condom around the hard knob on his dick.

Shirt wide open, he leaned back against the wall, pants and underwear around his ankles as the woman began the best blowjob of his life. He knew he could fuck for hours after dumping three loads while fuck three chicks. He relaxed and hunched forward to drive deeper into her eager mouth. Her hands yanked at his ass, forcefully driving his hips harder in and out of her mouth. He felt the knob of his dick thump against her throat; once, twice, and then he gasped as her hand thrust fingers hard up into his rectum. Unprepared or lubricated, the initially painful sensation took him by surprise and then her fingers scraped against his prostate. He felt a huge spurt of cum release from his balls, flow down his cock, and into the condom tightly suctioned into her hot mouth. Her jaw opened wide and her teeth scraped against his pubic area as the most draining orgasm of his life flowed out of his spurting cock. The finger eased out of his ass and he slumped down to his knees beside Ingrid.

She winked at him and lewdly caressed her lips with her tongue before saying, "Was that intense enough for you, baby?"

John just weakly nodded and stared at the beautiful creature that had just gobbled him down and given him the most overwhelming cum of his life. "Holy shit! If you fuck like you suck then I have to win you in the raffle."

Ingrid squeezed his cock hard and said, "Best you not even enter. Your mates would accuse you of cheating. Maybe at noon we can have a rematch, if you're up to a little sporting bet that is." With that, she stood up and straightened her crotchless panties, the seams on her hose, and the garter straps. Just inches away, John stared as if mesmerized.

Ingrid took the camera back from Michael after less than five minutes after giving it to him. His Pacifico Beer was still half full.

"Master," she whispered, "what else did you expect from one of your well-trained sex sluts?" She kissed his cheek and turned to get the camera ready to go. Seconds later, only a faint residue of her perfume remained.

Michael grinned and willed his thickening cock to subside. After all, he had pulled out of Connie without dumping his sperm-filled ball sacks. "Later," he promised himself. "She'll be at my mercy on the sail back to Miami."

"Yes, my friend," he thought smugly, "this is working out well. Sophia and Rochelle earn six thousand dollars, minus expenses for the night, and I get two PPP-rated bondage sluts to use however I please. Their worth is easily two hundred thousand dollars. Despite the demand for revenge by Connie, Rochelle, and Sophia, I won't sell them off to a South American mining camp. That would be too much of a waste. Yep, life is fucking great!"

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

Connie Baxter lay limply sprawled across the queen-sized bed in Destiny's master cabin. Her long blond hair was in disarray, sweaty and matted from her sexual marathon. After Michael Moore (Aaron Clarke) forced the unprepared woman to snort high-potency cocaine, Connie was tricked into beginning a series of achingly satisfying orgasms. The first fraternity boy punched his fat cock into her pussy while it still clasped greedily for Michael's dick. Only after dozen's of drug-enhanced explosions of ecstasy was Connie dimly aware that her seemingly never-ending fuck was from a changing supply of lovers, not just Michael.

Too befuddled to overcome the wonderful feelings of bliss enhanced by the cocaine and alcohol, Connie gave in to the sensations and fucked back. Her sweaty body and the raw looking pussy lips framed by pubic hair clumped with condom lube, pussy juice, and sweat gave convincing testimony to her sexual depravity.

Connie had been well and truly fucked before Michael came and took her away from the dance floor. At the time, she was wildly dancing, topless; the only girl among a crowd of men. Connie had lost her blouse, but still wore a stretchy tube-top as a skirt. Connie passed out in the car riding back to the marina, her slimy pussy on open display between her splayed open legs. Too much sex, alcohol, drugs, and simple physical exhaustion had taken their toll. Michael wandered into the bathroom to wet some hand towels with warm water. He gently gave her a whore's bath, thankful that the condoms kept her from becoming covered in crusty sperm.

Michael Moore squeezed the base of his cock after rubbing the right side of the spongy fuckmeat with alcohol. He snapped fingers from his other hand against the cylinder of a small syringe filled with clear liquid to remove any air bubbles and smoothly sunk the thin needle one-half inch deep into the corpus sponglosum. Michael rarely used the alprostadil as he had never had problems achieving achingly hard erections. The drug would allow his penis to fully engorge with blood, a condition that even sleep would not relieve. The injection would result in a persistent erection (priapism) that would not subside in less than six hours. Only vigorous and extended sex would make the rock-hard fuckmeat relax.

Michael rolled a condom down his nine-inch bludgeon, laid himself ass-down on the bed, and rolled Connie's lifeless body over his. He guided his cock into her dry, raw pussy and lowered her body. A quick tug on the sheet and he relaxed before slowly drifting off to sleep. Connie Baxter would awaken in a few hours and discover his bar of rock-hard fuckmeat welded into her pussy. "Her reaction will be interesting," he thought as he fell asleep.

Connie was deep in dreamland, unaware whether she was awake or asleep. Her body vaguely ached; maybe with unfulfilled desire, maybe from too strenuous an exercise workout. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation. She sighed and unconsciously stretched her toes and fingers. The slight movement pulled her sticky breasts slightly away from the surface upon which they were stuck.

She frowned sleepily, trying to figure out why her skin was stuck against anything. "I always wear my jammies," she thought. "Why am I naked?"

Michael awoke when Connie stirred restlessly on his broad chest. He ran a rough hand gently down her spine; she sighed and snuggled tighter against his naked form. He flexed his stiff cock. It was still buried deep into her tight cunt. Michael continued to feign sleep; but he rolled his hips up slightly, rocking his pelvis gently against her pubic mound.

Connie's subconscious tied the increasing feelings of arousal from the big dick stirring her cunt to a daydream. In her sleepy state, she dreamed that her body was fired with lust as Michael Moore satisfied her every need. Still dreaming, she opened her eyes to discover that a bright light highlighted her upright form, writhing slowly upon her lover's cock. In the dream, Connie was vaguely aware of an audience all around her, as if she was on display on a large stage. Connie actually felt her breasts swell up from the desire sweeping through her system. The idea of conservative Connie riding a giant dick, fully naked and in plan sight of an audience, triggered gut-wrenching orgasms.

Michael felt the muscles in her belly and cunt spasm and correctly guessed that Connie had just cum. He stopped his tiny pelvic thrusts and enjoyed the spasms rippling across his cock.

He returned his hands to Connie's smooth ass cheeks and wondered how Ingrid Gaviard was doing. He had left the wild fuck-a-thon before the fraternity conducted the free raffle that would determine the lucky lad with full rights to the only fresh cunt left in the house, Ingrid the photographer. John, the frat treasurer, had taken Michael aside and explained that the drawing was rigged. The ticket to be drawn belonged to Luke, the youngest member that the fraternity had ever had. The boy's family was obscenely rich and an historic donator of funds to the fraternity. Michael tried to visualize the shell-shocked look on Ingrid's face as she was led to the only private bedroom left in the rented beach cottage by a scrawny little kid. He was certain that Ingrid never thought she would bed a child. He hoped she felt it worth it, as it was her idea to come over to film the action.

Carolyn White groaned and tried to move her aching limbs. She hurt everywhere. Her face felt like it had been pounded with a sledgehammer. "Why can't I move my hands and feet?" she thought blearily. "Oww, it hurts everywhere. My mouth feels like it is packed with sand." Unable to open her eyes in the bright light, she wondered if she was outside. Her eyes were gritty and covered with sand. Her face was stuck down in sand and she couldn't get up. She then realized that the nearby sound of surf and the sand on her face meant she was outside near a beach.

"Ohhh, my God!" she moaned when her gritty eyes opened up enough to see that she was indeed outside, naked, and bound up like a slut. "That bitch, Connie," she moaned to herself as she began to remember some of what had transpired during the last twenty-four hours. "Oh, my poor cunnie and bottom. They fucked me over and over. Ohhh, my jaws hurt so bad from this fucking gag thing. Wait, … how did I get out here?"

She remembered hearing that the 'whores' at the party were hired until noon the next day. From the angle of the sun, it was only early in the day. "Where are all the frat kids?" she thought. Unable to do more than turn her head sideways, she couldn't see the beach house, only the water and a stretch of deserted beach on either side of her body. "When is this horrible ordeal going to end?"

John sat on reclining chair beside the now cold bonfire pit. He was admiring the view of the sand-covered blonde hooker. From her weak stirring about, he guessed she was waking up. He grinned, thinking how unbelievable it was that he had fucked, or at least dumped a load because of, every whore at the party. The achievement might well last him a lifetime. He remembered how tight the whore in front of him had been at the start of the party. "Of course, I think I got first fuck rights on most of the girls last night," he remembered. "Guess she might not be so tight now."

Carolyn heard the sound of footsteps moving through the dry sand behind her bare, upthrust ass. Unknown to her, John stood admiring the lines of her ass. To protect his cock from sandpaper action that her sandy skin might cause, he poured most of his remaining beer onto her already sunburned ass. The cold liquid felt good and Connie relaxed as best she could, thinking the act was a merciful one. Then something hard and unresisting was jammed into her sore asshole. It was tilted up and the liquid frothed and bubbled out of her rectum. "The bastard just dumped his beer on me," she realized. "Why in my ass?" Noooo, … , hease, ullp heee. Hop hit!" her voice transitioned from a silent inner voice to a gag distorted whining plea for help.

John finished the initial downward lunge of his stiff dick into her cold and foamy rectum. "Good thing I washed off that sand. Ohhh, that would hurt." He muttered and then moaned aloud in relief at the tight, scratching feeling along the length of his cock. "Ohhh, yes. I wish you were mine girl. I would drill your ass night and day. Hmmm, yes."

Carolyn could only whimper in distress. Her tears flowed, cutting thin rivers through the grit and grime on her face. She was no longer the 'in charge' woman from the day before. Broken, she felt the thrusts moving her hips about. Unwilling, but nevertheless, her inner passion started to build, the humiliation and pain now acting as erotic stimuli she couldn't resist.

John smiled down at the beginning of a response from the hot chick under him. "God! You are such a slut, girl!"

Back on the boat, Connie was increasing the movement of her hips as yet another orgasm erupted through her over-sexed body. It was at least her fourth cum, and she was still sleepily thinking it was all a dream. Her fingers stretched and curled again as an unstoppable round of spasms wracked her body. "Ohhh, Michael," she moaned to her dream lover, "you are the best. Fuck …, fuck …, fuck …, fuck me you bastard. Let them look at us! Just fuck me!"

Tired of being passive after forty-five minutes of non-stop sleepy fucking by Connie, Michael jammed his hips upward and his hands each clenched a big breast, pushing her upright to a more vertically impaled fuck position.

Connie's eyes opened wide at the greatly increased stimulation. She only had time to open her mouth in amazement at being in bed with Michael when her next orgasm struck. "Eiiii," she screamed in passion. "Fuck me!"

Michael kept up his strong thrusts, raising her body up, again and again. He decided it was time to take charge. He reached down to grab under her thighs by his ass and raised up his hands, dragging her knees up toward her head. A strong lunge upward, and he came up to roll over onto Connie, her cunt widely open and her knees trapped by her ears. Michael rocked his hips in a circle, pulled out once to gauge the distance for his outthrusts, and began to drill in and out as hard as he could possibly plunge. It felt great. Connie was grunting now below him as the force of his lunges repeatedly drove the air out of her lungs.

"Yes, he thought, "this is the fucking life. What fun! Life is fucking great!"

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 29 – The Prenuptial Agreement (or Don't Swindle a Scoundrel)

Joseph Loftus slowly set down the phone handset in his office and frowned. Normally stoic, he was stunned by what he had discovered when he picked up the phone, thinking he was going to call the restaurant to confirm his dinner reservations. His girlfriend, lover, and fiancé had evidently just dialed her sister as he picked up the phone. Embarrassed to have interrupted a personal call, he paused, uncertain how to break the connection unnoticed. Then the conspiratorial tone of the conversation stopped any action on his part. They were talking about him.

Anna Sawyer had telephoned her sister, Becky Sawyer, to compare notes on their scheme to defraud Joseph Loftus. Both women were trim, sexy vivacious girls that Joseph had felt drawn to from the time they met months before at a charity function in Raleigh, North Carolina.

From the phone conversation, it was obvious that Anna and Becky had specifically targeted Joseph Loftus based upon his mother's obituary in the Raleigh News and Observer. Joseph felt anger welling up about the callous way the two women discussed a plan to get his money. He realized that the only reason Anna called her sister was because he had just mentioned a prenuptial agreement. She was angry that the prenup would cap her potential share of the married couple's assets to two million dollars during the first year of marriage with increasing increments of one million dollars per year of continued marriage. She and Becky had hoped to get the family lawyers to offer an early settlement in the neighborhood of twenty million dollars. Joseph was doubly offended because he had overruled his lawyers and increased her share in the prenuptial agreement by tenfold over their advice. Given the complication of the prenuptial agreement, the two women were talking about the possibility of killing him after the wedding. They decided to leave this open for further discussion.

Joseph remembered that he had only attended the event because the charity had been a special project of his mother's. In town from his own business in the west, he was making funeral arrangements and starting the long process of settling his parent's estate. He had forced himself to attend the black-tie event, as he knew it was special to his mother. She had promised to make a substantial donation and Joseph felt obligated to fill in for her at the event. The two blonde southern belles had been seated at his table. Not knowing anyone else at the event, the three had instantly hit if off, enjoying the rather staid event. While dancing, he especially enjoyed the younger sister, Anna who at thirty-one was six years junior to Becky.

Joseph Loftus, at forty-one, was a retired United States Marine Corps Master Sergeant. Two years before, he abruptly retired with nearly twenty-two years service to manage his father's beloved ranch in New Mexico. Too old and too ill to run the isolated ranch, his eighty-year-old father had permanently returned to Raleigh, North Carolina along with his wife of forty years. Joseph counted his father fortunate, his heart simply stopped beating one night soon after he left his ranch. Joseph had inherited the ranch and several million dollars in cash. The bulk of the family fortune remained in the hands of his mother, a trophy wife who adored her older husband. His mother, only sixty-six, had just succumbed to her long battle with cancer.

"A honey trap," he muttered angrily. "The bloody bitches set me up for a fucking honey trap." He remained at his desk considering his options. The wedding was only a month away and he had already let Anna move into quest rooms at his mother's home in Cary, North Carolina. Her sister, Becky usually came over on weekends while he flew back to New Mexico on ranch business.

Finally, he came to a decision and pulled out his cell phone. During one of his assignments in the Marine Corps, he had befriended one of his junior marine corporals. On one memorable three-month deployment to Phnom Penh, he encountered his corporal at a local whorehouse. Joseph was leading a tiny Cambodian girl bound in tight black leather bondage down a dingy corridor by her twin nipple leashes. Corporal Steve Austin, carrying a small multi-pronged whip, was just walking out of a room. The two met in the hall, and Joseph could clearly see the sweaty, well-fucked and whip-striped whore in the corporal's room, still tightly bound, ass up in the bed.

The two friends grinned at getting caught with their bondage quirks so obvious. Over the remaining two months of the deployment, the two had tied, strapped, whipped, abused, and fucked whores together as they explored their way through every whorehouse they could find in the capital. Cash was king and their every wish was easily realized for enough American Greenbacks. Their TAD per diem allowance for meals and incidentals was about eighty dollars per day, more than enough to fund their wanderings through the Cambodian whorehouses. Joseph knew that Steve Austin was now out of the Marine Corps and that he had become some sort of 'fixer,' able to provide rapid, permanent solutions to customer problems. Apparently, his solutions were easiest, and cheapest, when the difficulty was caused by beautiful women.

"Steve, you thick-headed grunt, it's Joseph, your last fucking friend on earth. I have a problem with two ill-mannered bitches here. I was planning a major dog show with the youngest bitch; you should already have gotten an invite in the mail. Well, the big event is a bust. The bitch and her older littermate have become uncontrollable. The last straw was today, I discovered she just won't stop biting my hand. I was wondering if you could help me out by taking the two bitches off my hands. What do you think?"

The entire conversation lasted less than two minutes, plenty of time to establish that Steve had full authority to get the problem hounds off his hands and plenty of time to change the conniving cunts' destiny. They agreed that the least traumatic time for removal of the pets was during an upcoming trip back to the ranch in New Mexico. The bitches would be home, alone and ready for pickup.

"Buddy," Joseph said with relief, "obviously I want you to let me know of any expenses or fees required to find another home for these two dogs."

"Well," Steve responded with some humor in his voice, "this is a kinda special situation, you being nearly family and all. I'll probably waive any normal fees cause I gotta admit, I usually turn a profit if they are 'show-grade pets.' I'll get back with you if there are any issues. Else, your problem is solved and I only need you to let me know when you depart for the airport. After a few months, I'll let you know the final disposition of the bitches. Out here."

Steve set the phone down with a grin. He knew his east coast partner, Aaron Clarke, had been having second thoughts about enslaving, training, and selling innocents. This job was right down his alley. He correctly guessed that Aaron would enjoy the chance to turn a quick profit on two conniving, blood-sucking leeches. "Guess I'll have to cancel my flight reservation to the wedding," he mused while he fed Joseph Loftus' wedding announcement into his office shredder. The accompanying photos of Joseph standing next to a set of smiling sisters were sorted and placed into a scanner. Steve carefully cropped out his friend's face and then merged a memo into the digital photographs using a 128-bit encryption algorithm. Aaron Clarke would receive only a perfectly normal photo attachment to an e-mail. Only the two conspirators held the necessary double-decryption codes to pull out the images of the targets and the attached memo outlining the basic acquisition plan.

Joseph sat back with relief after releasing his friend to solve his problem. He was happy to have the entire problem taken out of his hands. Now that he thought about his just interrupted wedding plans, he realized that his relationship with Anna Sawyer had not been very fulfilling. It was more as if he was going through the motions to make his dead parents proud. "In fact," he thought to himself, "this is the most vanilla relationship I've had since high school. Sure, we fuck, but it's not that exciting; more like we go through the motions. She even sleeps in her own room. Joseph, what kind of limp dick wimp have you become?" Joseph decided that he was going to change things over the period of the few days remaining before he departed to New Mexico on his normal Friday evening flight.

Anna Sawyer sat at a makeup vanity in her lingerie. Joseph had quietly crept into her room to surprise her before dinner. The sight of her long blonde hair and the sexy red matching lingerie she wore triggered his long suppressed lust. He walked in quickly, his image in the mirror startling the devious woman. Joseph grasped her hair in one fist and strongly yanked back. He covered her mouth with his and passionately started a tongue fight with her. His left hand yanked her bra down, painfully pushing her nice tight titties up, making perfect targets for his tongue and teeth.

Anna gasped as his mouth left hers and before she could catch her breath, his teeth were nipping sharply at her throbbing tits. Her hair was yanked again and somehow she was falling down to the bedroom floor. Her tailbone struck bruisingly hard upon the thickly cushioned carpet. She opened her mouth to complain and unexpectedly, his erect cock slid deep into her throat. Anna gurgled when the dick plunged into her mouth and before she could figure out how their bodies became reversed in the fall, fingers from his hand slipped deep into her cunt. "Ughhh," she protested and then a weak "ahhh" escaped her filled mouth as his lips suctioned her clit against his teeth. She vaguely realized that her legs were held wide open by his elbows and his mouth was lightly latched against the top of her cunt while his thick fingers fucked deep into her cunt. Barely able to breath, she focused on keeping her nostrils open and upon the wondrous feelings coming from her pussy.

Joseph realized that this was the first time he had fucked this woman without a condom. Frankly, he no longer gave a flying fuck whether she was on birth control or whether she even wanted sex. Now, she was nothing but a sextoy for his use over the next few days. Thrusting hard, he felt his cockhead slip down her throat. She retched below him as his ball sacks thumped onto her eyes. Deciding to have a little mercy, he yanked out of her mouth, spun around, and sunk his engorged cock deep into her drooling cunt, sliding his big saliva-covered meat past her thin red thong strap.

Anna threw back her head and took a deep gasping breath as the giant dick was yanked out of her mouth. She was taking her second glorious gulp of air when his mouth covered hers again and she again felt her legs positioned widely apart. Her body arched in unconscious response as the dick plunged into her pussy. Her breath was momentarily taken away again from the lunging bar of fuck meat. The carpet burned against her shoulders and ass as Joseph kept up his insanely hard lunges into her pussy. After dozens of brutal thrusts, her head thumped against the baseboard of a wall and he kept plunging in hard, bending her head back. Amazingly, she felt alive and full of energy. Her normal adrenaline rush was from setting up a good scam and the danger associated with making a difficult, and dangerous plan work out. This time, he frightened her near to death with the brutal mouth rape and then the violent sexual attack on her body. She realized that even in her uncomfortably bowed position, her hips were fighting hard to fuck back against his every thrust. "Ohhh, Joseph! What are you … eiiiii … doing to me. Yessss, oh fuck, yes," she became more incoherent as the crescendo of sensations took over her nervous system. "Yesss, fuck me like I'm nothing but a cunt. Your cunt. Ohhhh, fuck your cunt, hard, Joseph. Yessss, … yesss … yess … yes … yeah." Limp from the most intense and satisfying orgasm of her thieving, lying life, her body was thrown to and fro as he continued to fuck hard into her.

For Joseph, it was wonderful as well. He realized that his best sex was not with females as equal partners; rather it was with a woman with no choice but to follow his lead in sex. The fact that Anna was both helpless below him and unable to resist sexually responding to his violent fucking made this especially satisfying. He also knew that in order to be perfect, this night of sex had to include forcing his way into her probably virgin ass. "Alas and alack," he paraphrased to himself, "I don't want to scare her away. No, bitch, … your ass is safe for now. But, I'll call Steve back and tell him to be sure and abuse it before he disposes of you." Joseph still had no idea that Steve was a slaver and that the disappearance of his victims was not because of their deaths; unless that is, they were not prime pieces of pussy (PPP). Hence Steve's comment on the phone to Joseph about 'show-grade bitches.'

Aaron Clarke (in his Robert Morgan identity) parked his rental sports utility vehicle (SUV) at a large convenience store just west of Interstate 95. He was less than one hour from his target, a large home in an older neighborhood in Cary, North Carolina. Built before gated communities became popular in the region, the five-acre lots were in a development with less than fifteen homes. The SUV had been rented at the Richmond, Virginia Airport. The rental was a one-way, thirty-day contract with a return in Jacksonville, Florida. Aaron had flown to Richmond from Miami as Justin Drake and he had already made a return ticket reservation from Jacksonville in the same name in thirty days.

Robert Morgan grinned at the simplicity of the plan. A quick call to his partner, Steve, confirmed that his targets would soon leave for the Raleigh-Durham Airport to drop off Joseph Loftus for his flight to New Mexico. The two sisters would stop with Joseph to eat dinner at a restaurant close by the airport. Robert finished fueling up and paid cash inside the store for the gas and a bag full of snacks and drinks.

The turn off the winding country road into the neighborhood was dark and isolated. Robert made his turns concisely, as if he knew exactly where he was going, and pulled right up to the target home's garage door. A numeric keypad was mounted on the column between the bays of the two car garage. After simply flicking up the cover and entering a four-digit number onto the lit keypad, he pulled the car into the garage. When the door thunked shut, Robert yanked the emergency lanyard, disengaging the gear system. Joseph was to have informed the women that the garage door was broken and that a repairman would come Monday morning. They were expecting to park outside the home and enter using the front door.

Now inside the dimly lit garage, Robert pulled two duffle bags out of the SUV and laid them on the garage floor. A sheet taken from one bag was spread out on the concrete and he hurriedly stripped off all his clothing. He slipped his legs into a black rubber full-body suit and pulled rubber booties on before closing the small hidden lower leg zippers over the boots. After a few seconds of comical contortion, the body suit was up around his torso and his hands popped out of the wrist openings. He pulled the long belly zipper partially up toward his chin and pulled on a matching open face hood. After tucking the bottom of the hood under the collar of his body suit, he zipped it up. Robert preferred the feel of kid leather gloves to rubber and pulled them on. He left the sheet and his clothing on the floor but picked up his two duffle bags and proceeded into the house.

Robert received his confirmation call from California that Joseph had entered the restaurant. He knew he had several hours to get ready for the women's return. First, he laid out his bags and equipment in the master bedroom, now used by Joseph since his mother's death. Leary of traveling with his favorite weapons, a stun gun and a taser gun, on a commercial flight, he had filled one bag with easier to explain, although kinky, items. Bondage cuffs, dog-training collars, rope, dildos, and handcuffs were in one bag along with a few items of personal clothing. The other bag held only other collapsible duffle bags and two bondage hoods and ballgags. All his normal abduction drugs were left behind in Miami, instead, he opted only for two of his favorite items that were easily concealed among his toiletries; a small jar of intensely hot Thai chili paste and a tube of strongly aromatic muscle relaxing cream.

Robert picked up a small notepad and began a through exploration of the home. Along the way, he noted small items of value that he would steal after subduing his new acquisitions. He paid special attention in Anna's room and lastly, focused on her sister's much simpler guest room. Finally familiar with the home's layout and completed with his listing of valuables, Robert returned to Joseph's room and sat on the floor to wait. He took a deep and began to employ his Yoga Pranayama breathing principles to relax and purify his body. He wanted to kill time while keeping his body alert and ready to move. The Pranayama was the first stage of his Bhandas. Robert took another deep breath and closed his eyes to concentrate on his body.

Several hours later, Joseph's car pulled into the driveway. Robert grinned as his legs easily unfolded from his lotus position and he popped up onto his feet, fully alert, relaxed, and ready to go. The grin was because he was certain that despite Joseph's declaration that the garage door was broken, the stupid bitches were in the car trying to get the garage door remote to function. The car doors opened and he heard one of the women complaining about the 'cheap bastard' and getting rid of 'this piece of shit house' as they stomped up the front walkway to use the front door.

"Amazing," Robert thought, "of all the wonderful things in life, these two are so shallow that a broken garage door sets them off. He stood behind the master bedroom's door, straining to determine where the women were headed. It sounded like they went into the kitchen.

Anna threw her handbag down on the granite counter and said, "Sis, I'm ready for some wine and a soak. What do you think?"

Becky pouted and said, "What about our plan to go out clubbing and pick up some real men. I haven't been laid properly in months. Working this shill has been hard work. It's time to loosen up some."

Anna winced at the thought of sex and said, "Look, girl. It's only Friday night. Let's save it for tomorrow and we'll have more energy to change into club attire and nail some hot studs." Anna wasn't sure when she was going to tell her sister about the abrupt change in her fiancé. She thought how Joseph had been fucking her every chance he had over the last few days. She hadn't found any bruises yet, but she ached all over from the rough sex. Just that morning, he had pushed her knees beside her ears on the bed mattress and bounced his lean body over her poor cunny for at least thirty minutes. It was raw and tender from the repeated violent lunges. She smiled ruefully as she also remembered her own orgasms as the man treated her so callously, not at all like the previously tender lover he had been that hadn't once made her explode in a decent orgasm. "That man can fuck!"

Her sister, Becky Sawyer replied with, "Why not. Let's enjoy this place. After all, this will soon be our house." Then with a malicious twist, she added, "Oh yeah, I meant ours once the wedding occurs. I want this crappy old house sold off after we get your divorce settlement."

Anna stopped uncorking the cold bottle of Viognier and said, "You still think you can get the old goat to jump your bones? I don't want to stay married to this guy for more than a month or so."

Becky replied with a loud ringing laugh, "Honey, you may be the younger of us, but I can get a man into bed faster than you. Anytime you want to bet, just let me know and you're on." As the laugh ended, she added to herself, "Baby, if you only knew what I did this afternoon while you were out running errands for the wedding. Hmmm, and I'm still tender; maybe it's best not to go out tonight. I might even figure out a way to pass on clubbing tomorrow night." She pushed her sore ass against the kitchen counter and thought, "Oh, if you only knew girl. I'm gonna get him to go after his new little wife like a ram on a flock of ewes." With a grin at Anna's upcoming surprise, she finished preparing the cheese and crackers on her tray.

Anna shook her head. She knew that her older sister was not at all sexually repressed. The Viognier open, she pulled a bottle of Merlot down to open for Becky. She couldn't help but wonder what her sister would say after a round of sex with the new super-charged Joseph Loftus. Grinning widely as she walked out toward the deck with the bottles of wine and glasses, she decided it would be a nice surprise for Becky. "After all," she thought gaily using her sister's own words, "she is the best at getting men into bed."

Still in their street clothes, the sisters drifted out of Robert's hearing and onto the rear deck. Quietly moving into the dark bathroom, Robert looked out a window over the Jacuzzi. He saw the women, still in their street clothes out on the dimly lit deck below. Well-hidden from its distant neighbors, the back patio was a perfect location for a hot tub. The two slim blondes were below, for the moment sitting on a wooden bench. Aaron saw that one was drinking white wine and the other red. Two just-opened bottles and a tray of snacks sat on a small nearby table. It was too dark to see which was the younger of the two. The longer-haired sister gulped down the last of her white wine and stood up. She kicked her heels off to the side and shrugged the straps of her knee-length dress off her shoulders. The black sheath simply floated down her perfect body. She leaned down to pick up the soft dress giving Robert a clear view of her stunning ass cheeks fully exposed on either side of her tiny black thong. Her tight tits barely moved as she leaned over and then stood erect. "Nice, package," Robert thought with a dry mouth.

While the first woman stepped gracefully into the gently swirling water, the other stood up and began to unbutton her dress. Longer, and more conservative, the dress fell open to reveal more traditional lingerie, a white matching bra and panty set. When the dress hit the deck, Robert blinked in surprise. "The woman's got a garter and hose on. Nice, indeed," he thought. "These two are much finer grade pussy than the picture from Steve Austin led me to believe."

Robert made a guess that the second blonde, the one with shorter hair and the less daring dress was the older sister. He also decided that despite her age at thirty-seven, he couldn't tell the difference between her body and her younger sisters in the dim light. "I can see how these two can make the honey-trap work so well. What man that is bedding the first sister could possibly resist the second?"

By now, Becky had provided more tantalizing views of her body as she contorted to remove her hose, garter belt, and bra. Like her sister, she slid into the tub wearing only her panties. Robert heard happy laughter and the faint clink of wine glasses as the two made a toast. "You two are guilty," he declared in a serious tone. "Yes, guilty of deceit, attempted murder, and even worse, bad manners. I sentence you to a situation beyond your control."

Eventually, he noticed that Anna, the thirty-one year old was getting ready to leave. Essentially naked, she emerged from the tub like a blonde goddess. In the dark, Robert couldn't see well enough to tell if her pussy was hairless, or simply well-trimmed. The black g-string thong and the dark patio kept that secret, "At least for now," he thought with a grin. She pulled a fluffy robe out of a small wardrobe closet and filled her wineglass again before heading into the house. Her clothes were left carelessly strewn on the wooden bench.

Becky emerged halfway from the tub, wet breasts glistening in the moonlight, to bend over to fill her own glass before she sunk back into the soothing tub. Sister gone, she slipped off her white panties and threw them, to land with a wet plop, beside Anna's black dress. She giggled and ran her free hand between her legs. Her fingers' goal was not her pussy, but her sore asshole. The aching pain caused a flashback to a scene from just that afternoon. Since Anna needed to proofread the wedding dinner menus, Joseph had sent his fiancé off to also pick up some last minute laundry needed for his trip back west and a new pair of leather work gloves for a fence mending project he was to start Saturday morning at the ranch. Anna and Becky had exchanged a quick conspiratorial glance before Anna eagerly agreed to run the errands. They needed to kindle a love interest between their mark, Joseph Loftus, and the sister; this was a perfect opportunity.

The lean ex-marine was intriguing to Becky and she looked forward to setting the stage for a future 'discovery' of their unfaithfulness soon after the wedding. Unfortunately for her, Anna had not yet shared the news that her sex life with Joseph had overnight changed from plain missionary style gentle screwing to wild, hard, skin-slapping sex. She had also not told her sister that she had completely lost any ability to guide the direction sex would take. Joseph had taken complete charge of his fiancé. Neither woman realized that after unearthing their scheme he had reclassified the women as warm pieces of fuck meat that were only kept breathing for his sexual satisfaction.

Becky scampered toward her bedroom and shouted down to Joseph that she was going to take the free time to bathe and then get ready early for the ride to the airport. Joseph grinned and thought about how he was going to seduce the woman who was so obviously willing to bed him. He knew it was all fake coyishness and was willing to take full advantage of the scheming woman.

After her quick shower, Becky peeked into her bedroom and saw no sign of Joseph. She ran over to her bedroom door and opened it wide. Then she dropped her towel on the carpeted bedroom floor, completely exposing her damp and totally naked form, and intentionally kicked her vanity chair with her shin. She shrieked in pain and fell to the carpet curled in a ball, clenching her now bleeding leg.

Joseph was still outside in the hall trying to decide on his next move when he heard the thump and then her cry of pain. He ran through the open doorway and skidded to a halt at the sight on the floor. Becky's lithe body was exposed to his view; curled up, her pussy was in clear view with its sparse forest of blonde hair providing scant protection. Joseph felt his cock lurch in his pants as he rushed over to kneel by her side. He grabbed the sobbing woman and cradled her in his arms; enjoying the view of her firm breasts and taut stomach. She was in perfect shape, her slim form a mirror of her younger sister. Joseph decided that except for their facial features and hair style, they could be identical twins.

Becky's sobs of pain were real, that's what made her and Anna such formidable con artists. They were perfect in executing their moves. Her leg really hurt and it was possible, at least from the blood, that she might need stitches. She felt her body being moved up onto his lap and his strong arms clasped her tenderly. "It was perfect," she thought with glee, "I have him feeling sorry for me, and he has me naked in his arms. He is so doomed!"

The damp towel on the floor made a makeshift bandage to help staunch the blood flow. Joseph was sure that a few butterfly bandages would treat the minor wound. He made soothing sounds and caressed her damp hair with one hand while the other held her firmly in place on her taut tummy. He was fully aware that his right hand was only inches above her pussy, hidden from view just below the curve of her pubic mound.

Joseph leaned down and kissed away her tears. "Shhh," he whispered, "I'll get you cleaned up and OK in just a few minutes. Just calm down, you'll be fine."

Becky loudly hiccupped and despite her pain giggled. She leaned in against his lean frame and hugged him. The move brought her top leg across his hand trapping it against her lower belly. Becky felt him rub the back of her head. She hid her grin against his stomach and she breathed out steadily, moving her hot breath through his shirt to his sensitive belly. "It is working out perfectly," she thought.

Joseph decided that he might as well go for the whole enchilada. "After all," he told himself, "this bitch can't say no to anything I propose. She's too afraid to lose the sham."

Becky felt his trapped hand slide out away from her tummy. It gently traced around her hip and moved to the small of her back before going straight to her ass cheek. She liked the move, in a few minutes she would pretend to become aware of what was happening between them and run into the bathroom, sobbing. She intended to pressure him again after a few weeks, to keep in interested in her as the wedding plans proceeded. Suddenly, she arched her back as two fingers plunged deep into her dry rectum. When her head flew back, Joseph rolled atop her and covered her lips with a wild kiss. She was so shocked at the change in events, that she was powerless to resist as his weight pinned her down.

He stopped kissing her and whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry Becky, but I couldn't resist that gorgeous ass of yours. Your sister is so bad in bed that I'm frustrated to the point of distraction. Anna just lays there like a hunk of meat. I have to have a good piece of pussy or I'm outa here."

Speechless, Becky just lay there under his muscular form as she wondered how her sister could have screwed things up so bad. "J..Joseph, wait, … I can talk to Anna later and see what's going on I know she loves you."

"No," Joseph said with a sob, "I'm calling things off as soon as she gets back. I love her, but I have to get laid properly."

Becky, gears finally spinning in her devious mind pulled him down for a long drawn out kiss. She felt him unzip his pants with one hand as the other mauled her breasts and ass, seemingly everywhere at once. His crotch thumped against hers and she knew that his shoes had just been kicked off when she heard on thud against the wall. "I'll get him off quickly and then focus him back on Anna," she thought.

Before she had even fully thought this through, he was completely naked on top of her, tongue deep down her throat and one hand buried in her pussy. Moments later, his tongue was exploring around the edges of her pussy lips. "Oh, yess," she moaned. Then she grinned inwardly, deciding to vocalize a little to offset her sisters seemingly vanilla sex with this man. "I'm gonna have to straighten out that lazy shit sister," she thought, "it was her task to keep this guy insanely happy, not so frustrated he would back out of the wedding."

She slurped his cock deep into her mouth. "Hmmm, lover," she whispered, "you have a really nice cock. I'm already hot to have you in my tight pussy."

Joseph grinned into her drooling pussy, and whispered back, "But, you don't understand Becky, I said I want a piece of ass and that's what I mean. Until you get Anna to set her virgin ass on my dick, you can keep me happy every Friday afternoon before my trips back to the ranch." He felt her body below him tense up at the threat of getting ass-fucked.

"J…Joseph," she stammered, "I don't like anal." "I can guarantee that you will love my pussy clasped tightly around your big dick," she added coyly.

The lean rancher didn't respond, he simply buried his face back in her loosening pussy. He felt her relax below him as he increased the stimulation on her clit. "Stupid cunt thinks she is safe now," he thought with a grin full of musky cunt, "just because she directed me to focus on her cunt."

Robert heard the younger sister pad up the stairs and pass his position on her way to her bedroom. In her relaxed state, she never noticed that Joseph's bedroom door silently opened behind her and a wraithlike form slipped behind her.

The first she knew something was wrong was the strong grip that covered her mouth and yanked her backward off her feet. Simultaneously, her kidney exploded in pain as Robert rabbit punched the woman as she flew backwards off her feet. She gurgled quietly through his hand and then collapsed onto her ass. Robert stuck his right hand under an arm and grabbed hold of her right breast to use as a handhold. He dragged her limp body by her breast into Joseph's room and ripped off her bathrobe, revealing a tight, young flawless body.

Before she could begin to recover from the shocking blow, she was gagged and then blindfolded under a leather discipline hood. Her weakly flailing arms were easily captured and wrist cuffs locked on. A leather X-strap arrangement and ankle cuffs set her in a loose hogtie on her belly. The X-strap didn't have locks, but Robert was sure Anna couldn't reach the release lever, let alone visualize what the thing behind her back was. Robert threw the helpless woman onto a comforter already spread on the bedroom floor and wrapped her up. The cushioned body was thrown unceremoniously into the Jacuzzi.

Robert peeked outside the window, standing over his newest captive, and saw that the older sister was still lounging in the steaming water. "Time for a little surprise," Robert muttered. He stepped into the shower stall, adjusted the water temperature and opened a flap in the crotch of his rubber suit. Robert's already thickening cock was shampooed off, it's slick newly shaved surface easily becoming clean. After a quick toweling of his shiny black body, he was ready, nine-inch cock primed to receive a condom and a thick layer of sex lubricant. He slipped down the hall like a silent ghost, with his rigid cock and balls hanging obscenely from the suit.

Becky dimly heard the home's sliding door open and close, but was too relaxed to wonder at her sister's quick return. "Come back for your clothes, you slovenly little thing?" she asked quietly.

Before she could draw in a breath to replace that just expelled in questioning her sister, a slim noose of 2-mm woven nylon cord dropped over her head and in tightening, yanked her half out of the tub. Her titties jiggled at the harsh movement of her body as she bent over painfully backwards, hands grasping desperately at her throat to open her breathing passage.

Robert released the garrote; its clever slipknot would stay tightly in place until he decided otherwise. He lassoed her feet with a section of 5-mm bondage cord and secured her ankles together, bruisingly tight in mere seconds.

Vision dimming from a lack of oxygen, Becky felt her shoulders thump hard on the rough wooden deck. She just couldn't get her fingers under the thin cord or loosen it in any way.

Robert easily captured her blindly questing hands and rolled the woman tits down onto the deck. A second handy length of bondage cord and her wrists were painfully locked behind her back. Only then did he ready himself to loosen the choking cord. He let Becky take a single deep heaving breath before he jammed a huge red ballgag into her open mouth. Not even winded during the easy capture, Robert slapped her nearest wet ass cheek with every ounce of strength in his muscular body. Her muffled shrieks of pain were too quiet to be heard beyond the limits of the deck.

His thin leather gloves got excellent purchase on her prominent nipples and he used these handles to yank her back into the hot tub. Becky was thrown face first against the far edge of the tub and Robert stepped in after her and grabbed at her hips and legs. A daunting sight, the burly man dressed all in wet black rubber moved to cover the victim with his body. Once her body was stabilized, he guided the plum-sized head of his cock to the entrance of her ass. Faced with the well-lubricated dick, her tiny ass could do nothing to stop the two hundred pound force driving the huge spike fully into her rectum.

Becky inwardly wailed at the penetration of her just broken in ass. "Not, my poor bum again, not after today!" Her muted howls of pain went unanswered. She could only contort her body in agony as her ass rape continued. His violent thrusts bruised her ribcage where it thumped against the hard fiberglass rim of the hot tub. The outward suction pulled her body back, only to plunge forward again onto the hard rim.

Robert Morgan drove his cock as hard as possible into the hot ass. Certain nobody would hear, he got her to wriggle in wrenching agony by slapping her ass cheeks, one after the other, over and over. When he finished spurting into the condom, he leaned back in satisfaction. His softening cock pulled out with an audible pop. He stood still to regain his breath from the strenuous workout before he pulled her unresisting form back onto the deck. The condom was tied off to keep any incriminating fluids locked inside and safely stowed in a hidden pocket on the thigh of his suit.

Aiming carefully, Robert began to forcefully bitch-slap the comatose woman. Robert proceeded to beat the unresisting woman methodically. He struck with his open palms across her ballgagged mouth and tender nose until blood started to ooze out of tears on her lips and her bloodied nose. Robert then rolled her over to grab her bound wrists and mercilessly dragged her limp body across the worn wooden deck, catching splinters in her proud tits and succulent hips. Becky's inert form was thrown onto the light-colored carpet in the living room. Robert took another short length of 5-mm nylon line out of a pocket and hogtied the abused woman's feet up to her bound wrists. He rolled her over long enough to extract a few bloody splinters that he set down on the carpet under her body before it rolled back. He stood up to be sure that blood dripping from her nose and torn lips was falling onto the carpet before he pulled out a voice-activated dog-training collar. He pulled out the drool-covered ballgag and tightly buckled the training collar onto her neck. He headed back upstairs; Anna Sawyer was next to receive his attention.

Before dealing with Anna, Robert took time to pick up a couple of his empty duffle bags and he quickly swept through the upstairs, stealing items already detailed on his notepad. All of the jewelry and small valuables that he had sighted were thrown into his bag; creating a mess of thrown open drawers and disheveled items in the process. Then, he pulled aside a painting on the bedroom wall and revealed a small safe that protruded into a concrete column hidden in the closet. Quickly, he punched in a six digit number, the enter key, another six digit number, the enter key, a final six digit number, and then he hit the accept button. The safe whirred and an internal electric motor slide aside the locking bars keeping the safe shut. Inside were only a few useless items that already had a pawed through look. Pulling a few of the items forward to fall onto the bedroom floor, he turned away, satisfied that the safe was as it should be. Robert quickly finished up in the master bedroom.

Anna had little of value in her room except for some interesting costume jewelry. Robert stole all of that and every piece of her sexiest lingerie and her few miniskirts. He did take the time to gather up any loose papers that the woman had in the room. Nothing else was worth stealing. He would gather up their purses from the kitchen downstairs. Next stop was Becky's bedroom. She had less in the room than her sister. Within minutes, Robert was finished upstairs.

He finished packing his stuff and brought the bags downstairs. Anna was the last cargo to come down the stairs, naked form thumping from carpeted step to carpeted step. She was a painful mass of rug burns by the time her hooded form was laid to rest next to her sister. Robert flipped the comforter he had used upstairs to cushion Anna's short rest in the Jacuzzi out on the living room floor. This time the older sister was laid upon it, and after her hogtie was undone, was tightly rolled up and strapped with two-inch packing tape inside the giant roll. Robert grinned at the sight. He decided to christen the look a 'pussy roll.' "After all," he thought, "later I will eat this raw pussy just like sushi."

Robert shrugged the woman's deadweight up onto his shoulder and headed out to the garage. Becky's place was at the extreme back of the SUV. The bags of booty and bondage equipment were laid around and over her reclining form. After returning to the house, Robert proceeded to make a mess of every downstairs drawer and shelf. There was little of value as Joseph had already shipped anything of real, or sentimental, value from his parents home out to his ranch in New Mexico. Robert knew from Steve Austin that the home would be put on the market soon. With the removal of his fiancé and future sister-in-law from his life, there was nothing to tie him to the Raleigh area.

The old home theater system was removed as were any loose movie and audio CDs in the home. Altogether, it would have been a poor haul for thieves unless they were totally desperate. Robert hoped Becky's blood and obvious signs of physical abuse at the hot tub and on the livingroom carpet would clue detectives that violence occurred in the home. Robert made a last run out to the hot tub where he pulled the paper filter out of the unit and threw in a new, replacement unit. Then, he went upstairs for a final cleaning of the shower and removal of the shower drain. The drain cover was carefully cleaned out in the toilet before he replaced it. An entire bottle of thick, jelly-like drain cleaner was spread across the bottom of the cleaned shower floor to trickle down the drain. The industrial strength drain cleaner would consume any evidence that might have remained.

Robert sat down on Anna's hooded, gagged, and bound form. He unzipped the bondage hood and yanked out the ballgag. Anna took a deep breath and Robert punched her, hard, on her left cheek. When her head thumped back, Robert shoved the ballgag back in and reached over for her dog-training collar. After it was tightly buckled up, he again yanked out the ballgag and turned away to gather up some of his loose gear.

She immediately took another deep breath and the instant her vocal cords started to vibrate, the collar let loose an immediate shock. Breathless from the painful shock, she realized that not even a squeak escaped her lips. She tried again, and the collar immediately stopped her vocalization with the powerful electric shock.

Robert ran his hand caressingly across her cheek and said, "Little slave, it's no use. The collar works at the speed of light, that's 882,000 times faster than the paltry speed of sound from your little voice box. You will never win this contest. Keep going and I will increase the shock level or add other torments." Robert left her to mull over the futility of resisting the collar while he finished dragging the last of his gear and booty out to the van. When he returned, he roughly grabbed the silently sobbing woman by an armpit and he dragged her across the room toward the garage. Her bound feet dragged across the carpet.

Robert sat Anna upright in the front passenger seat and warned her, "I'm gonna undo your hands to make you more comfortable. Fight back and I will really hurt you, badly. Nod if you understand."

After Anna nodded, Robert replied, "Good. Behave and it will go easier. By the way, if you resist, then I punish both you and your sister, Becky. It's the way I always train my sluts."

Anna stiffened at the mention of her sister and the cruel word 'sluts'; she nodded her understanding as more tears silently dripped down her cheeks. She couldn't comprehend what was going on. This strong man manhandled her like a professional and he mentioned training sluts. "Oh, God!" she moaned to herself, "What is going on here."

Robert wrapped a leather belt around her slim waist and yanked her head forward to get to the buckles at the small of her back. He tightened them until she tried to grunt, again she was shocked, and then he buckled a set of wristcuffs on her. Despite his warning, Robert was taking no chances, he snapped one wrist to a side loop before he untied her hands. Thus, she never had but one hand free. He easily levered the last wrist over to the other side of her belt. Still bent forward, he flipped one of Joseph's large shirts behind her and then set her back in the seat. A chain-type dog leash was clipped to a steel loop at the back of her collar and wrapped tightly around the seat's headrest. Robert had the pleasant task of buttoning the skirt over her nice tits. She didn't even flinch as he palmed her breasts, one by one. "Nice utters, cow. Yes, you are nothing but livestock now. You are only alive because you have a tight cunt, ass, and a nice sloppy wet mouth. You will learn to excel at what tasks you are given in order to earn your right to breathe. In other words, you better fuck like the best whore on earth or you will be snuffed."

Robert then tied a rope around her feet, fed the free end under the passenger seat, and tied it off. Anna was now tightly restrained and held in her seat by the collar, the seatbelt, and her feet. Robert picked up a couple of items from the floor and opened two buttons on the man's shirt. He slipped a hand through the opening to play with her nipple. After the nipple responded by becoming hard as a pencil eraser, he clipped a sharp-toothed nipple clamp over it. She wriggled in dismay as he began to play with her other nipple. It also betrayed her by becoming hard and erect. Soon it sported an identical nipple clamp. Robert then dangled two light metal leashes in front of her face. "These, my dear, are nipple leashes. They clip to the ends of the clamps. Hurt don't they? When I tug, I want your instant attention."

Anna was helpless to stop him as he clipped one of the leads onto her right titty; it sagged slightly downward from the weight of the chain. She heard a slip snap, and then her left nipple was leashed as well. Robert buttoned up the shirt again and slipped the leads through. He laid the leads down on the driver's seat.

Robert reset the emergency release mechanism for the garage door, opened it, and drove his rental SUV out of the dark garage. Within seconds, the door was closing behind him as he drove the two women away from their prior lives. Every once in a while, he tugged on the titty leashes; she could do nothing except look intently for a cue to what he wanted.

Robert drove away from the small development and headed back toward Raleigh. He held a small remote control unit in front of the terrified blonde and said, "This is the controller for your collar. To turn if on, all I have to do is push the reset button. It's a little more complicated to get the collar to go into pause mode; but I'm going to do it for a while. You better pay attention to my commands if you don't want to feel real pain."

Anna tried to watch carefully to see what he did to turn off the damnable controller. It was no use, his hands blocked her view, and he looked up in time to see her intent. Blinding pain exploded in her tits as he yanked hard on the leashes.

"Nasty cunt! You better learn proper manners! OK, you lying, cheating bitch, no talking except to guide me toward your house. We have some business there."

Breasts still throbbing and her body already stiff and sore from her rough handling, she felt there was no option except to follow his instructions. About thirty minutes later, they pulled up in front of a small house.

Robert thumbed the remote control on her garage door opener and pulled in. He then punched the reset button on the collar controller and said, "Stay, bitch." With a laugh, he opened his door and left the miserable woman alone. Robert had little that he needed to accomplish here at the conniving bitches' home. He felt it necessary to make a search to remove any evidence of the Sawyer's prior scams, if only to keep the authorities from thinking his client acted against them after discovering their intent.

The girls had kept some records of their schemes, mostly in the form of photographs and bank account statements. The two had easily squirreled away $450 thousand between them, all safely in overseas accounts easily accessible through electronic transactions. Robert shook his head at their greed. The damning photo albums were packed away in his duffle bags along with anything that referred to their bank accounts and any prior identities. The women had several passports, from both the United States and from Italy, with several identities. Robert thought it interesting that regardless of the last name used, the women always kept their first names the same. "You two should have quit while you were ahead. Now you've just made me a lot of money and given me the enjoyment of breaking two sluts as punishment for their evil actions. Oh, yes. I love this fucking life."

Robert opened the passenger door of the SUV to check on Anna. He looked into her terror filled eyes and laughed as he threw the single bag of stolen identity documents and bank papers at her feet. "Maybe that rich fiancé of yours will buy you back from me?" he asked with a grin.

Anna's heart lurched at the thought of possible freedom and she nodded her head up and down vigorously. The man snaked a hand down between her legs, bruisingly forcing its way toward her defenseless pussy. She felt her lips move as his fingers forced their way into her pussy, bone dry with fear. "The problem is," she heard him whisper into her ear; "I may not want to let you loose before I teach you how to fuck properly. Are you a good fuck?" She again nodded hard to let him know she was good in bed.

Robert looked at the woman, desperate to please him and escape back to her nice safe victim. "Girl, he said with a feral grin, I wonder how good you really are. I might give you the chance to prove it in a few hours." He wormed more fingers hard into her pussy, making her flinch with pain. "Problem is," he continued, "you rich bitches are usually lousy fucks. Think how much you might be worth to me if your finance wants to buy you back."

With a final twist of his now wet hand, Robert yanked it out and wiped it off on her face. The door slammed shut on the long-haired blonde and too soon for her, the SUV pulled out of her garage, taking her further from the life she had striven so hard to make. Just as she lost sight of her home, she heard him laugh and say something about, "How fucking good life is."

"I don't agree with that right now, you bastard," she thought in return.

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 30 – Extremely Poor Manners (or Road to a New Life)

Anna Sawyer was miserable. She could barely breathe in her contorted position and had just spent several hours contemplating her present predicament. After her kidnapper had finished robbing her home, he had pulled her roughly out of his SUV and onto her rough garage floor. Weeping silently, to keep the evil control collar around her neck from punishing her, she was unable to resist as she was manhandled with practiced ease. She remembered her humiliation when he yanked her sole piece of clothing off, a large man's shirt, and then cold and fully naked, found herself tied bent over, wrists securely cuffed to ankles, elbows cuffed to knees. Her back and knees began to ache as soon as he wrapped a wide nylon strap around her knees, forcing her to remain in a bound, pike position.

"Oh God!" she moaned silently. "What have we stumbled into," she wondered. Her major concern was that she and her sister Becky were probably helpless prisoners of a demented madman. Anna's mental condition would have been much more fragile had she known that their kidnapper had already brutally ass fucked and then afterwards, callously beaten her sister in order to leave bloody evidence that the women had met a violent fate.

"Ugggh," she unconsciously grunted and then spasmed in pain as the unrelenting training collar reacted by dumping a high-impedance jolt of electricity into her neck. "Fuck," she whined to herself, "what I wouldn't do for some nice relaxing breaths of air and release from this bondage. I think I'm going to pass out."

Aaron Clarke, owner of a franchise business started with the assistance of his most trusted friend, diverted his eyes from the dark highway to glance over at his passenger. He grinned at the sight and once again wondered what the newly acquired slave was thinking. He remembered the look of shock and silent horror on Anna Sawyer's face when he had laid her rigid bent over form on top of a three-foot section of foot-wide shelving he had pilfered from a garage storage cabinet. Aaron had laid her legs on the plank such that the end came to just inches below the junction of her legs. The woman had been folded over, head toward her feet, barely already able to breathe. She had then been moved into the SUV such that her head faced down to the floorboard where her wrists and ankles were so strongly cuffed together. The more beautiful part of her anatomy was thus oriented straight up in the air.

Aaron ran his right hand in appreciation across the soft surface of her tightly stretched ass cheeks. Unable to resist the temptation, he knifed his fingers together and slid them, forefinger first, down her ass crack, across her rectum, and into the opening of her pussy. With a reluctant sigh, Aaron turned his head back to concentrate on the road while his fingers pushed with unrelenting pressure deep into her tight, dry cunt. He continued to drive the SUV easily with his left hand as the movement of his four fingers in and out of her cunt started to create squelching sounds as her body unwillingly responded by lubricating her pussy. Eventually, the strong fucking of his four fingers bottomed out with the digits fully seated inside the puffy lips surrounding her fuck cavern.

The stretched pussy was worth another glance from the road. First, though, Aaron flicked on the overhead light after confirming that no vehicles were nearby on the now deserted interstate highway. After a moment's appreciation of the sight of the stretched pussy, he watched with a wide grin as the only free digit on the right hand, his thumb, aimed itself at her still virgin, and quite tight, ass grommet. Her hips renewed a minute wriggling as she protested in the only way she could. Her resistance was completely ineffective, the strong thumb easily tore its way past the anal sphincter and the thumb wormed its way as deep into her bowels as it could go. She was now gripped ass and cunt more savagely than the well-known bowling-ball grip; as two extra digits were forced into her aching pussy.

Aaron Clarke (in his Robert Morgan identity) laughed in happiness as he once again monitored the road ahead. "This is no time to become careless driving and draw attention to myself," he thought to himself as he flicked off the overhead light. "But," he continued, "I can still torment the little slut and drive at the same time." An interstate sign indicated that 'South of the Border' was just ahead. He pondered stopping to gas up and stretch his legs. Deciding that a break was in order, he sped up the deep fucking motion of his hand into her cunt and ass. The upthrust ass would be covered up with a handy blanket while he stopped.

Anna cried in despair as the man kept up his relentless fucking of her tender orifices. "Owww, owww," she whined silently herself. "It hurts so much, especially after Joseph fucked my poor cunny so hard this morning. She noticed that increasingly painful heat was building up in her rectum. "Eiiii," she cried, "when will he stop?" Amazingly, despite the irritation of her tender tissues and the humiliation of the situation, she actually felt her aching pussy start to loosen up. She knew it was only a self defense mechanism intended to protect her pussy from harm during rape.

Robert Morgan did indeed notice that as her cunt relaxed, it also became noticeably juicier. Soon, the musky odor of her now slick cunt filled the cabin. Robert pulled his thumb and fingers out, rotated his wrist, and buried his thumb deeply into the loose cunt. He stirred it around, knowing the slippery cunt butter would soon coat his digit, increasing the ease of reinsertion into her ass.

Anna sighed in relief as his thumb slammed its way back into her rectum. The wetness actually soothed some of the burning irritation initially created by the once dry thumb. She felt the thumb pull out of her slightly relieved asshole and stir around in her cunny before it dragged more moisture to her ass. "Ahhh," she thought, "at least it doesn't burn so much." "Ohhh!" she yelped to herself, "the fingers are in my cunny again. Hmmm, better." Then, as she realized what she was feeling and the wet sounds coming from her pussy, the red heat of embarrassment flushed up her face."

Robert pulled his hand out of her sloppy holes and looked at the slimy goo coating it. Even in the gloomy interior of the SUV, her shiny holes and butt cheeks showed her readiness for sex. He swung his right hand down and delivered a blistering splat directly on her sparsely-haired cunt. "Sloppy bitch, did you think I was going to fuck you to rock your world. Piss off! You are my whore now, a piece of fuckmeat, a hot set of holes to suck out my cum. You get off when I say, not before. Get used to following orders."

Something scratchy slid over her ass and she heard the vehicle door open. The man slammed the door shut and the electric locks clicked closed. She furiously tugged at her cuffs and the nylon wraps that held her so rigidly on the board. "Oh, God! I gotta get away. Please, come loose," she begged. With an inaudible whimper, she collapsed, sweat streaming from her hot body. "It's so stuffy here, I'm gonna die." Tears of fear and frustration continued to stream down her face as she lay, bent painfully over, in the suffocating mustiness under the blanket.

'South of the Border' was a garish collection of tourist shops on the North Carolina / South Carolina border. Robert didn't expect to accomplish more than gas up his SUV and stretch his legs before getting back on the southbound side of Interstate 95. "Guess, I was right," he mumbled to himself while he wandered through a shop, looking at colorful, cheap knickknacks chewing on a hotdog. "This is junk. Wonder how the bitches are doing?"

Hundreds of miles later, deep in southern Georgia, Robert heard another wet fart. He looked over at Anna's wet clasping cunt lips. The lips writhed like snakes. "Still burn, whore?" Robert asked. Her grasping cunt opened up under the lips and sucked in more soothing air. Another series of wet farting sounds erupted out of the wet cunt.

Anna was in terrible pain. It felt like live coals were lining her cunt walls. Her internal muscles spasmed again and she felt her cunt clench and unclench in automatic reaction to the unrelenting pain. She farted again as trapped air rushed out past her wet cunt lips. "The pain," she moaned. The collar shocked her again before she could begin the whimpered cry and she involuntarily whimpered again. She couldn't help it; the pain had burned deep into her cunny since the man had shoved a dildo, goopy with some evil liquid, deep into her. It had been hours of pain. She felt she was going mad from the unrelenting waves of fiery heat rippling deep in her guts.

Over the rumbling sounds of engine and tires, she heard her tormentor's hand caress softly across the bottom of her ass. Then, he spoke in a quiet voice, "I'm going to turn off the collar. You will only answer my direct questions or it goes back on, maybe forever. Bark once like a dog if you understand. Having no choice but to obey, she barked, her unused voice making a sound more like a croak than a bark. "Good, cunt!" she heard in response. "If you want relief, bark again, once." This time, her voice responded in a passable imitation of a dog's bark. "Good cunt," said the man while his hand returned to caress her ass cheeks.

"Are you ready to pledge obedience to my every request?" he countered.

Anna hesitated. She hurt terribly and was unsure which answer would lead to relief. She heard a meaty splat and her right ass cheek exploded in pain. She whimpered loudly. "Like a scared puppy," she thought. Before she could answer, he asked again, "If I take away your pain, will you pledge absolute obedience?"

She groaned and barked, once in response. The hand left her ass. The unrelenting burning continued. "Ughhhh," she moaned softly. There was no answering shock from the collar, instead, his hand returned to her ass and she felt him move his fingertips around her hurting outer lips. She gasped as something huge was shoved into her cunt and rolled around. The pain instantly stopped. A long "Ahhhh" of relief escaped her lips. She realized that the dildo had been shoved back into her bowels with something on it that quenched the fires burning inside her. The switch from unending pain to relief was almost sexual, so soothing, so, … so good.

Robert grinned at her sigh of relief and clenched his fist around the base of the slippery rubber dildo. He took a deep breath and began to hammer the fat cock into her, pistonlike. The meaty base of his hand struck hard against her clit and cunt mound, again and again. The neutralized muscle liniment, the soothing cream, and her cunt juices fed the rocking, thumping action of the fake cock to make loud squelching sounds followed by the slap of his hand against her clitoral nerve bundle.

Anna heard herself wheezing and struggling to breathe as the overwhelming force of the fuck took away her breath. "Oh God," it feels so much better than that tormenting pain," she moaned. "Please don't stop, she whispered.

Robert grinned at his success so far in breaking this so proud bitch. He slowed the dildo to a slow, even fucking motion and twisted his wrist on each in stroke, to better stimulate her clit with his wrist. "I'll stop with the good feelings and the torture begins anew unless you tell me that you are a lying, cheating, whore," Robert said, punctuating his words with the measured strokes of the rubber into her cunt.

"Eiiii, … I, … ohhh, … I'm a whore, … a lying, cheating, whore."

"Yes whore, that's right. Now, tell me you are my little whore, my little fuckmeat."

She had already accepted defeat. Her statement, "I'm your little whore, your little fuckmeat," almost sounded exultant as she followed his instructions.

"Yes, you are indeed a nice piece of fuckmeat. Now, I want you to be sure that the word Master is in every reply you make from now on. Got it?" he demanded.

"Yes, Master," she sniveled. "I understand." "Master?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, little slave," he whispered at her upthrust ass. He suddenly increased the rate of fucking with the fat rubber dildo and she exploded in orgasm. Robert actually felt her cunt writhe in ecstatic muscle spasms against the heel of his hand. "You are a hot little slut," he said with a grin. "I may decide to keep you alive after all. Just remember, always obey, and do so quickly."

A few minutes later she hesitantly asked, "Master, now that I know the rules," before pausing in order to gather enough breath to speak, "Master; can you loosen my bondage? I promise to be good. Let me show you, please … please, Master," she continued in a quiet voice.

"You haven't really learned enough rules yet, little slave," he replied. "But, basically, good, obedient slaves get rewarded and disobedient ones get punished quite badly. If I have to punish a slave, they will feel pain much worse than anything you have experienced. Still sure you want to be let loose?"

Anna sobbed and barely got out a, "Yes, Master. Your fuckmeat wants a chance to show how she follows directions. Please, Master I can't last much longer like this."

"Oh, hell," he said roughly. "I must be getting soft." With that, he released the dildo, and with a lightening fast flick of the wrist, he grabbed his knife from his belt and sliced through the two nylon straps holding her onto the board as well as the one holding her knees tightly together. She slipped down the board a few inches and stopped, stuck. Robert had already sighted a highway rest stop ahead and he signaled his intent to pull over.

Moments later, Robert had pulled Anna the rest of the way off the board, spun her around in front of her seat, and she now knelt facing the rear of the van, naked on her knees with wrists cuffed to her sides on the leather waist belt and feet clipped together. She was still gasping to recover all of her lost breath. Robert gave her simple, "Stay cunt!" and "Quiet!" commands before he slipped out of his door. He looked inside the vehicle and couldn't see anything through the dark tinted windows. His girls were safe inside from observation. "Now," he told himself, "I just have to keep any policemen from paying attention to us."

Robert whistled tunelessly as he walked around to the back of the SUV and looked around the rest area's parking area. There was nobody nearby. In just minutes, Becky was released from her cocoon-wrapping and brought around to the passenger door. Robert threw her blindfolded form onto the front seat and he pulled the seat belt across her belly and chest. Becky still had her waist belt on with her wrists clipped to the sides onto metal rings. Robert grabbed her feet and unclipped her ankles, drawing her right ankle to the side of the passenger seat and tying it back to the bottom of the seat. He repeated the move with the other leg, leaving Becky with her legs widely spread apart.

Anna finally couldn't stand the silence and she started to speak. Her eyes felt like they would boil out of her head as the vicious collar punished her for trying to use her vocal cords. "Guess its back on," she told herself sadly.

Fortunately for Anna, Robert was too busy securing the older sister to realize that Anna had tried to disobey his demand for silence. Robert slammed the passenger door and ran around to the back of the SUV to be sure the bags were stowed away properly. With a final glance to be sure everything had pass unobserved, Robert climbed back up inside. He glanced at his two new cunts and whispered, "You know what to do, little one," and he pointed to Becky's exposed pussy. For emphasis, he yanked on the nipple leashes he had reapplied to Anna's perky tits and she moved forward tentatively. Robert leaned down to whisper, "Becky's got earplugs on under that bondage hood and blindfold. If she isn't wriggling in ecstasy in five minutes, then you go back into bondage and I drive that special dildo all the way up inside your ass chute. Think you can handle that pain, slut?"

Anna winched at the thought and rather more eagerly than she had expected to, wriggled around to place her face at her sister's pussy. When she smelled the gamey cunt, she instantly thought that her sister was getting off on this bondage and kidnapping scene.

Robert changed that idea pretty quickly. "Oh, fuckmeat," he said, "I forgot the seasoning. It came from fucking her slutty cunt, so I guess its only fair that you clean it up." With that, Robert yanked his tied-off condom from the small pouch in his rubber suit and untied the knot. Using both hands to better improve the aim, he squeezed every drop of jism out of the full condom and onto the sparse blonde forest of pubic hair. "Start cleaning that up first," he demanded.

Anna quivered anew at the extra chore. "He wants me to eat his cum and then eat my sister. Oh, God! I have to be a lesbian too?" she moaned to herself. Then, remembering the long hours of painful burning in her cunny, she knew that she would do anything to keep that from happening again, let alone in her poor ass. She took a tentative lick and scowled at the salty, ammonia taste. Her titties were yanked again by her kidnapper to remind her to continue. She took a longer lick and a string of the man's jism flowed toward her mouth as she drew back to get a breath before she leaned in again.

Robert grinned and thought how pleasant the rest of the trip would be. After he got tired of watching the younger sister eat Becky, he had a ringgag in his pocket. The grin was thinking of Anna trying to suck him off with her lips widely stretched open by the ringgag device. "Yes," he thought, "life is fucking great." As if the unspoken thought was a signal, Becky stiffened beside him and quivered in what was obviously an orgasm. Robert reached over and caressed her bare and very firm tits as the spasms from the exceptionally strong orgasm continued to sweep over her. "Yep, these are two PPP-rated chicks. Despite the age of Becky, I have some ideas for these two."

Robert picked up his cell phone and dialed Doctor Joan Miller. Joan was gasping from some sort of exertion when Robert heard her pick up the phone..

"This better be important, Robert," she said curtly.

"Caller-ID?" Robert replied with a grin.

"Look, this is a bad time. I'm really busy. Tell me what you want and I can get back to my toy. He's going to get lonely if I don't hurry."

Robert hung up the phone and grinned anew. "That kinky woman is sure easy to do business with," he thought. Doctor Miller had readily agreed to everything that Robert proposed. She would be waiting at her clinic in the morning. Her only proviso to the work beyond her rather reasonable rates; that she get to play with the two slaves for a full seventy-two hours before she began any surgery or body modification. Robert readily agreed. He had other work to do while Anna and Becky began their training. The kinky doctor was certain to make Anna and Becky much more malleable. He was also sure that Joseph Loftus would be interested in a final visit with the two con artists.

"Yes, ironic twists are one of the things that make this life worth living. Life is fucking great!" he added with glee.

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

Please consider an e-mail with your opinion on the story.

Alternatively, consider using the BDSM library review option.

Story ideas are also welcome.

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 31 – Facelifts (or Identical Little Delicacies)

Anna Sawyer woke up naked and stashed in a small wire cage. "Fuck!" she thought, "a dog cage. I'm in a stinking dog cage." Before she made a sound, her hands attempted to touch her collar. She sagged in despair; not only were her hands cuffed to the shiny steel bars inches from her head, the training collar was still in place. Anna realized that her feet were also chained to the far end of the wire dog cage. The last thing she remembered was being in the SUV as a prisoner. "How come I can't remember what happened at the end of that ride?" she asked herself. "Where is Becky?" she wailed. The two had been inseparable from birth. The thought of losing her sister was almost too much to bear. Anna looked at the Spartan room containing her cage. Bare cinderblock walls, cold tile floors, a handless steel door, and a single dingy light bulb hanging from the ceiling were the only features of her room. It was cold and only her ass was able to touch the thin carpet atop the galvanized tray designed to catch dog shit and urine. Resigned, she leaned back as best she could to try and make herself comfortable.

Becky Sawyer woke up disoriented and dizzy. She didn't recognize the fact she was in a cage at first. The initial images in her awakening fuzzy brain were about why her head felt so bad, where her favorite comforter was, and why her body ached everywhere as if she had been run over by a truck? She tried to stretch before rolling over to get up; her feet thumped against unyielding cold bars at the end of her cage and her brain jumpstarted itself. Becky was horrified and completely overwhelmed by her situation. "I'm naked," she cried to herself. She started to yell for help and then her brain remembered something. "Oh my God! Was I really raped and kidnapped? Is there an evil collar around my throat that punishes me if I speak?" To answer one of her questions, she reached up one questing hand and trembled with what she found. She was collared, and she knew with absolute conviction that it would shock her into quivering jelly if she spoke aloud. Her hands started to search her body for any other items; she remembered something about a bondage belt, a hood, cuffs, and gags. "Nothing else," she thought, "Thank God for that at least." Becky's pussy and butt were still sore from her ordeal at the hands of both Joseph Loftus and her kidnapper, each energetically butt-fucked her on the same day. The same searching hand slipped down to see how her aching pussy felt. Her head arched up in surprise; "Something is wrong with my pubic hair, most of it is missing." Then her fingers encountered a small loop of metal through her clit and she forgot about her pubic hair. Her sexual nerves screamed when she touched it during her exploration. Becky's chin plunked painfully down on the thin mat she was laying on as each of her two hands flew toward a breast. "Rings, … someone has ringed by clit and my nipples. How dare they, …" she started with some indignation. Nobody in sight to answer her questions or to direct her wrath, she settled down on her mat and her body shook with silent sobs. She was scared and wanted to go back to her previous life. This situation was too horrible to accept.

Doctor Joan Miller observed her two patients in the twin video monitors on her desk. Angled so that only she could see the scenes of what was going on in the secret lower level of her clinic, the sight inspired her with fresh energy as she finished some mundane paperwork. At a polite knock on the door, Joan moved a mouse on her desktop and the screens instantly locked on an innocuous photograph of her clinic's building front. It was her secretary, reminding her that her next round of patient appointments started in fifteen minutes. Doctor Miller absently waved her secretary away. She wondered what was going through the heads of the new slaves when they discovered the first tiny modifications that she had made. The insertion of the nipple and clit rings had taken mere moments; what had taken more time was the laser treatment of their pubic areas. Since Robert wanted identical twins, Doctor Miller decided to leave one obvious difference to tell them apart. She left a slim vertical slash of wispy blonde hair above Anna's pussy and two identical slashes above Becky's. No other hair remained around the women's sex organs. Doctor Miller sighed at the thought of how much more work she had to do. The entire treatment regime was charted out. "It was so nice of Robert Morgan to agree to let me play with them in between treatments. He probably doesn't suspect that that gives me several weeks to mold his new toys," she told herself with happiness. "It will be so much fun."

The lights in the two holding rooms dimmed, silently signaling the miserable women that it was time to sleep. The stress and horror of the previous two days had overloaded the women. They slept hard and long.

Anna awoke feeling more clear-headed than she had the previous day. The cell was once again bright with light. The pain in her body had vanished during her sleep, leaving only a vague stiffness and a slight ache in her pubic area and breasts. Idly, she wondered if her period was getting ready to come. She slid her hands up to her breasts and squeezed them. "No, my boobs don't feel swollen. Hmmm." One hand brushed against a nipple and she felt a strong twinge of pain. "Ooh, no," was all she could communicate to herself. She more fully inventoried herself and discovered that she had identical gold rings in her nipples, her clit, and she supposed in her ears; as she could only explore those two rings by feel. She did rub her pussy to see how the now slick, hairless flesh responded to stimulation. "Ooooo," she moaned to herself, "not bad." Her pussy seemed to loosen more quickly and seep musky pussy oils faster than she remembered. "Almost as if the ring keeps my honey pot primed," she thought.

Joan grinned at the sight of One's awakening. "The little whore is shameless; frigging herself so openly on her first day of captivity. What a slut," she muttered. Doctor Miller had decided to rename Anna as 'One' and her older sister as 'Two' so that the names matched the Roman numeral shape of their remaining pubic hair. Anna was approaching a silent orgasm on the high-definition monitor and then she collapsed, to lie limply on her side. The screen showed the sheen of sweat covering the satiated woman, despite the chill air in the holding pens.

Becky also woke refreshed. Unlike her sister who started the morning focused solely on herself, Becky immediately began to examine her surroundings. First, she found two stainless steel metal bowls by the door end of her cage. Each was marked with the single word 'Two' in flowing cursive script. She wondered at the significance. One bowl contained clear water and the other had what appeared to be a mixture of scrambled eggs and ham chunks. The cage was too low to sit up in, so she could only get erect on all fours, "Much like a dog," she thought wryly. She tried to pick up the bowls and discovered they were securely attached to a tray that was hooked to the front of her cage. Deciding not to eat doggie style, she scooped out some of the mixture with three fingers and brought it to her nose to sniff. Becky, the former 'rich in her own right' gold-digger, was lowered to the level of domestic pets, caged and forced to eat from bowls. The thought of how humiliating it would be for anyone to see her like this brought a flush of heat to her innards.

Normally a dominating person able to use her talents of beauty and an intelligent, conniving brain to get her wishes, she reflected that her life began to change from the moment that Joseph Loftus had taken her by surprise and forced her to participate in anal sex. She shuddered at the recollection of the pain and humiliation. "Worst, of all," she thought, "the bastard made me cum, hard, at the end." She had to give the man credit, she thought, "He knew how to use that rock hard cock." The flash of heat renewed itself and she nearly collapsed on her lambs wool pad. "Focus girl, you aren't here to frig yourself to orgasm. Try not to focus on sex so much, you harlot," she told herself.

She also mentally cringed while chewing the tasty breakfast at the memory of her second rape of that long day. Her rapist and kidnapper had fucked her far more brutally and for much longer than had Joseph. "God, I thought my poor butt would burst into flames before he finished. What a giant cock. What a stud," she exclaimed to herself. Ruefully, she wondered what was the matter with her. She knew that two men had brutalized her, ending each time with the most intense orgasms of her life. Further, someone had licked, chewed, and sucked her to countless orgasms while bound deaf and blindfolded in the moving vehicle. "Guess it was probably Anna," she thought. "I get treated the worst of my life and I orgasm so much I pass out. What a slut you are, girl," she accused herself.

Becky Sawyer resolved to stop dwelling on the events of that long day. Instead, she focused her attention on the water and food. When she finished the breakfast, Becky encountered the next humiliating aspect of her captivity. To drink, she had to creep up to the bowl and lower her face to drink like an animal, using only her tongue. Then it struck her, the full feeling in her bowels meant that she would soon need to pee, and worse, have to defecate. It was too much, she sunk down again on her mat and curled up, both to hide from her situation, as well as to relieve the increasing pressure on her bladder. She cried silently, too upset to notice that she was becoming drowsy and drifting off to sleep.

Anna fought to regain consciousness. She ruefully realized that this was becoming her way of life. When her limbs wouldn't move, her eyes burst open in terror. "This is not my cage. What is going on," she screamed to herself. Above her body, she blearily saw two reflections of herself in a huge mirror. She focused her gritty eyes hard and was able to see her new piercings; the clit ring, the nipple rings, and the identical rings through her ear lobes. Her blonde hair had been combed out behind her head, rather too neatly she thought. The mostly hairless mound above her pussy drew her attention next. She saw the vertical slash of her blonde hair. "That's funny," she thought. "The mirror has a distortion in it. The other reflection has made the image of my pussy fuzzy, and …" she abruptly stiffened as she realized that the other image showed her still sleeping, eyes, completely closed. "Oh, my God! It's Becky here beside me. And, … her pussy is shaved different than me." Then it hit her; the realization that her feeding bowls had the name 'One' on them. She knew, without doubt, that her sister's bowl had the word 'Two' on it. There was no use struggling. The mirror clearly showed that both sisters were helplessly laid out side by side; arms, knees, and ankles cuffed to a medical examining table. Fully naked, the two women still had their dog training collars on.

Doctor Joan Miller came into the room with a breezy, "Good morning little sluts. Welcome to one of my clinic's operating rooms. Are my two new fuckmeats ready to begin?" She strode over to run her hand possessively down the sides of each girl. With Anna, she tugged gently on her pubic hair; with Becky, she yanked on each nipple ring. "Well, girls," she said happily, "your new owner has given me specific instructions on what to do with you lying, cheating, conniving bitches. Oh, you two are so fucked! If you don't give me 110 percent cooperation, you will be butchered alive and packaged as gourmet dog food. Trust me; given your mouth-watering bodies, it would be a terrible waste."

"Now our first order of business is to determine how to improve your looks to two identical, perfect-bodied twins. Hmmm." Doctor Miller started on their heads and took detailed measurements and photos of their cheekbones, jaws, eye spacing, brow lines, and ear shapes. She spent extra time on each of their noses. Finally, she caressed, squeezed, pulled, measured, and photographed the women's breasts. Many other measurements followed.

"OK, girls," Doctor Miller said with her hands on her hips. "You are lucky to qualify for lots of free improvements. By the way, I am an accredited plastic surgeon. I plan to shave each of your noses down to something a little more delicate. Other facial areas to be improved include your cheek bones, chins, and mouths. The ears, hairline, and eyes are already perfectly identical. She reached down to grasp one of Becky's breasts around the base. "Two here," she said, "has less than perfect tits. Guess the oldest whore is showing her age. Therefore, I will give you a little breast lift and slide in a modest implant. Two will end up with perky, full C-cup titties. Yes, girl, you will really like the new you. Oh, yes, I forgot." Doctor Miller paused and returned both hands to Two's face. "I get to do some experimental dental work to prepare you for your custom bits and you each get a nice strong nose ring. Since you two cunts are just fuckmeat now, the nose ring will be one-quarter inch thick stainless steel, passing through a reinforced grommet in your septum. Oh, and those hairstyles will have to be drastically changed." She slid her thumb and forefinger into Becky's nostrils and squeezed hard. "Yes," she finished with, "you are really lucky cunts to have me help you satisfy your new owner. He will be so pleased."

The sisters were each feeling queasy in their stomachs from the deranged doctor's statements. "Is she going to do the same to me?" wondered Anna. "What about my teeth," said Becky to herself. "Is the doctor really going to give me a nose ring," they each queried themselves. "Oh, she is right, we are so fucked," they each thought in unison. "I wish Joseph would hurry up and rescue us."

Doctor Joan Miller decided to get a little bit of a head start on their modification. Despite the tedious nature of the laser hair removal process, she enjoyed the way it created such a dramatic change, so quickly. The doctor screwed a set of headlocks on either side of each woman's head and slid a stabilizing bar over to rest firmly against each cheekbone, trapping their heads tightly in place. She leaned over Anna first and made a series of measurements with a caliper set, leaving carefully placed guidelines drawn in marker on her forehead and across her scalp. It was exacting work and she tried to exhibit her bedside manner by idly caressing Anna's breasts and belly as she leaned over the woman to make her measurements and guidelines. Then, she walked around to Becky's side of the examining table and began to made identical marks on her forehead and skull. The two sisters could only lay, tightly bound and unable to resist, as the doctor hummed pleasantly as she focused on the work.

After stepping back to observe that their foreheads were identically marked, she picked up a pair of hair clippers and adjusted the cutting head to leave a full one-quarter inch of stubble. "I have to leave enough blonde stubble left so that after I apply the dye, the laser flash will be able to burn the hair out down below the skin's surface," she observed aloud. When Joan clicked on the clipper, the telltale sound let the horrified women know that something bad was going to happen to their beautiful hair. The doctor held Anna's scalp tightly with her left hand while the right began to run the clipper smoothly up and around Anna's ears. Joan Miller knew that she could clip rapidly across the sides of their heads and only slow down to carefully follow the twin lines drawn back across their heads. The remaining hair in the ponies' manes needed to match perfectly.

Anna couldn't see her reflection in the mirror above, but she was pretty sure what was going on based upon the measurement marks and the way the clipper felt as it sped across the sides of her head. When the doctor stood up with a satisfied look on her head, Anna gasped in horror. She now had a two-inch wide strip of long blonde hair running from her forehead to the back of her head. "It's a Mohawk. Oh, God! No, … it's more like a mane. She really meant that comment about dental work and a bit. Oh, shit!"

Becky also saw her sister's new haircut as the doctor stepped back to admire her work. She wriggled to try and escape; but it was hopeless, she was too tightly bound to the medical table. The doctor approached her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She heard the doctor whisper, "Oh, I can't wait. I understand it's your turn to learn how to eat pussy. Did your sister learn properly? Did she make you cum over and over? Will you be a better pussy eater than her? Ahhh, I see you don't like the idea. Wonderful, then I get to punish you. Think little cuntmeat; If I can do all this just for fun, what could I do to make you feel pain? Hmmm, yes."

Unable to stop the doctor, Becky lay helpless while the clipper removed most of her golden hair. She wept as the beautiful hair was reduced to a Mohawk strip down her head and stubble. Knowing it was impossible to turn her head to the side to watch what the doctor was getting ready to do next, she could only watch in the mirror above. A ceramic pot of black gooey stuff was uncovered and carried over beside her head. The doctor took a plastic spatula and spread the stuff carefully along the edge of the Mohawk and then liberally below that line to her ears and all the way to the back of her head. Becky saw that the doctor held an adhesive set of numerals to her scalp just behind her ears; "the same as used to mark the mailbox in front of her home," she realized.

Becky was tired. She had been held on the table for what seemed like hours while the doctor worked on her head. The scalp by her ear burned as the laser fired again and again, flashing to dust the hair follicles covered with the dark dye, sounding almost like a child's machinegun toy. The dramatic changes in her appearance had the woman in virtual shock. Worst of all was the wide grin on the sadistic doctor's face as she concentrated on her work.

Finished for now, the doctor took a damp towel to Becky's scalp and cleaned off the dark ashes and the remainder of the goop on her head. The numeral 'Two' was clearly identifiable in the only patch of remaining stubble. The doctor became busy measuring two chemicals into a small plastic mixing tray. It was black hair color dye. Becky realized that the doctor wanted the numerals behind her ear to stand out clearly. After smearing the smelly hair dye above her ears, the doctor moved down to her pubic hair and also colored the two small vertical slashes there.

"There you go, little pussymeat. You now have three painless brands showing everyone your new name, 'Two.' We have lots of work left to do on you. High-grade pleasure pets like you two need identity tattoos on your lips and a security chip goes deep into your bellies; that work, and your surgeries, we'll save for another day though."

Becky couldn't stop her sobs. She was tired and sore; unused to loosing control of her life, she was devastated. "I look like a freak!" she sobbed to herself. Adding to the depression was the realization that she had nobody close who knew where she was or anyone that cared about her predicament.

Shaking off her melancholy, Becky saw that the doctor had just smeared hair dye on her sister's two numerals and the single slash above her pussy. While everyone waited for the dye to set into the blonde hair, the two sisters kept their eyes locked together in the mirror. Tears silently streamed down each woman's cheeks. The timer dinged and it was time to wash the dye away. Becky saw that her sister's shaved head and brands were identical to hers. "Even before surgery," she thought, "we are identical twins. I can see why they want us to have identity brands. They really stand out."

Doctor Miller opened a small cardboard package and shook two spongy earplugs onto the palm of her hand. The scene she was getting ready to begin was to be the most delicious part of her day. "Hmmm, this will be fun," she thought. It was time to deaden the hearing of the younger sister. When the rubber plug was reduced to a thin cone, she inserted it into an ear, to slowly regain its shape and block the ear canal.

Anna didn't want the doctor's attention. She just wished to be left alone in misery. "Now I can't even hear," she wailed to herself. The doctor held an evil looking oval-shaped device in front of Anna's face as if visually measuring her for the device. She had no clue as to its use.

"Open up wide," the doctor told Anna.

She hesitated; unwilling to aid the doctor in further tormenting her, afraid of being punished for not following orders. The doctor only smiled down at her confusion and she felt the doctor run a hand snakelike down her belly, across her belly button, and between her legs. Anna screeched in pain from the cruel pinching of her pussy lip by the doctor and felt the metal gadget jammed into her mouth. The device was brutally ratcheted tight, widely stretching her jaws.

Joan Miller only released her pressure on the abused labia when the adjustable ringgag was locked in between her upper and lower canines. "Guess I forgot to let you know, One, that the collar is off. Now we can continue." She peered closely into the open mouth and slid a hexagonal wrench in to do the final tightening. Joan grinned down at the terrified woman and silently moved a ratcheting, locking, clamp to the opening into Anna's mouth. The tongue was grabbed, the clamp ratcheted shut, and the clamp pulled the tongue strongly out of One's mouth. The doctor slid a notched tray across her mouth opening, and the tongue was locked into place, painfully distended from her mouth.

Joan Miller picked up a scalpel and waved it above each of the bound women. She shifted the incredibly sharp blade to her right hand and carefully shaved a tiny sliver of meat off the side of Anna's stretched tongue. A fat, red bead of blood welled out of the cut and ran down the tongue into her distended mouth. Doctor Miller grinned maliciously at the women and bent down to reach under her knee-length skirt, pulling her black wispy panties down her thighs. She stepped out of her panties with one leg and raised the other up, panties hanging alluringly from the toe of her shoe. Doctor Miller felt her breasts shift within her loosely fitting bra and she smiled evilly, thinking about the pleasure she would soon feel. She draped the black panties over Anna's head, blindfolding the woman, further cutting her off from what would occur next in the room.

Becky watched in the mirror as the woman undid one of her legs from the examining table and placed a cuff on it. She realized that the evil doctor was skillful in keeping her from having enough freedom to fight back. Doctor Miller used temporary bonds as necessary. Soon Becky had a leather belt on her waist, tightly strapped in place. Her elbows were cuffed to the belt and her feet hobbled with only six inches of chain. A titty leash was attached to her ringed nipples and Becky was forced upright to slide off the table, onto a wheelchair already positioned to hold her weak form.

The doctor whistled as she pushed the wheelchair away from the blind and deaf sister still bound on the examining table. Just a few doors down the hall, she turned into a normal appearing bedroom. Doctor Miller halted the wheelchair about four feet away from the foot of the bed and set the wheel safety locks. She left Becky alone in the chair and she walked toward the bed, feeding the leash out away from the bound woman's tits. Before sitting back on the mattress, Joan primly slid her skirt up above her waist and widely spaying her legs apart, sitting down in a most unladylike pose. "You see, Two," the doctor started, "you are going to start your first pussy eating lesson now. If you fail in your tasks tonight, well then I punish both you and your sister. Originally, I was going to cut off both her nipples if you failed at your pussy eating contest; but then I realized that would ruin her appearance for your new owner and she would have to be disposed of. By the way, disposal means being butchered alive while the target is fully conscious. Therefore, we're back to taking her tongue out if you fail. Your punishment is to loose your eyebrows. Delicious isn't it; your sister loses her tongue and you just lose your eyebrows. The irony of the inequitable punishment is delicious, and, … it will be your fault."

Becky didn't try to struggle. She fully realized the doctor had bound her helpless to fight back. She quailed inwardly at the thought of what this monstrous woman was demanding of her. "I'm no lesbian!" she screamed to herself. "Poor Anna," she cried silently, "she will die or be permanently scarred if I don't please this bitch. Oh, God! What do I do?"

The titty chain yanked hard on her nipples and she struggled to stand erect. An unrelenting pressure beckoned her downward toward the floor, and she sunk painfully to her knees. Becky then kneewalked forward toward the pussy in front of her. The pressure on the leash relaxed when she was between the brunette's knees. Even from two feet away, she could smell the musky odor of feminine arousal mixed in with more than a hint of sweaty body odor from her long day in the clinic. The bushy pubic hair was thick and wild looking.

Doctor Miller looked fondly down at her new bed slave. "First, little pussygirl, you will lick and suck the inside of my knees and then start moving up to my cunt. I will lay back and let you do all the work. A beside timer will ding every fifteen minutes. At the first ding, your tongue should first touch my pussy lips. Each of the next dings better signal an earth shattering orgasm on my part, or I will stroke your ass with this whip until I do cum."

Becky looked up from the bushy cunt; she had been mesmerized by the drops of pearly dew gathering already on the crinkled folds of the outer labia. She gasped aloud at the sight of the multi-thonged cat-o-nine-tails held in the smiling doctor's hand. "A rude awakening from my trance," she thought. Then she realized that her dog training collar was turned off.

Before the surprised girl before her could speak, Joan held up a hand and said, "Shhh, just because I give you back speech doesn't mean you are allowed to use it. Follow my lead and instructions or you will feel this." She struck a vicious sideways blow with the cat across Becky's hip. The numerous thongs wrapped around and brought pain to her near ass cheek. Becky loud scream was of terror; belatedly she realized that the stroke of the lash evoked less pain than she had expected.

"Time to begin, pet," the doctor said with a smile.

Becky leaned down the short distance to the trim doctor's knee and tentatively gave the inside a lick followed by a brief pause before she settled both lips against the dampened flesh and sucked inward. The contented sigh above her was the only confirmation of her successful start. Remembering the potential fate of her sister, Becky focused all her considerable skills of heterosexual experience and her knowledge of her own body to bring pleasure to her owner. The closer she worked to the cunt at the junction of the slender thighs, the stronger the taste of salt and the smell of female arousal. Becky shivered at the obvious signs of the woman's arousal. She knew that the humiliation and sexual situation was fueling her own pussy. Embarrassed, she thought back to her mind-bending climaxes during her recent rape by Joseph and then the intruder. The odor drifting up from her own cunt was slightly different, tangier somehow, than the doctor's pussy. When the timer dinged, signaling the end of the first fifteen-minute period, the moans of two women could be heard. The ding had triggered a small, but satisfying climax in each woman.

Doctor Joan Miller smiled as she looked straight up at the bedroom ceiling. Her new bedslave hadn't yet noticed the large mirror above the bed, clearly showing the kinky blonde mane and beautiful ass, streaked with a few minor whip marks, of the woman as she dug into the brunette's pussy for the first time. Doctor Miller intended to use the new piece of fuckmeat all night long, even while she slept to gather strength for the morning surgeries she had scheduled on the other bitch. One was slated to get the nose job, stainless steel nose grommet, and breast implants. Her current plan was to finish with One and let her heal enough to be the visual guide for sculpting Two into an identical copy. That gave her the full-time use of Two for at least a week before her first surgeries. Then, while Two healed, One would become her full-time lesbian love slave.

As a final round of training before her friend Robert came to pick up his new toys, Doctor Miller planned to bring some of her part-time male slaves over for the fucktoys to practice being submissive. The doctor grinned, knowing full well that her male slaves would love to don big strap-on cocks to supplement their oh-so-weak equipment. "Yes," she thought, "these two will get a real anal breaking in." Then it's off to Robert for the physical conditioning.

Becky awoke alone in bed the next morning. She smelled the strong fishy odor of dried pussy on her face. She blushed in remembrance of her enthusiasm of the night before. Becky ate the doctor to orgasm after orgasm. The doctor finally fell asleep with Becky's titty leash wrapped around one hand. Becky had been admonished to keep caressing and licking all night long. She had tried, but finally passed out under the doctor, her thick patch of pussy hair jammed into her mouth. She struggled to crawl, wormlike to the edge of the bed. A rattle of chain stopped her. "The doctor chained me to the foot of the bed?" she asked herself. "Thank goodness! The collar is still turned off."

Becky examined the chain and discovered, to her pleasure, that it was long enough for her to work her way to the bathroom. She crawled to the edge of the bed, her tight tits digging deep into the comforter. When she swung her feet over the bed, she had another pleasant surprise, her leg cuffs now had about a foot of chain, plenty enough to walk normally into the bathroom. "Ahhh," she moaned in pleasure as her piss flowed out of the distended bladder. "When was the last time I peed?" she thought. "I must have been gone for days and this is the first I remember."

Still puzzled about the passage of time and her forgotten bowel movements, she attempted to brush her teeth in front of the vanity counter. A note on a small vase of flowers on the vanity counter brought another flash of embarrassment. The note read: "Nice job cunt! I love your tongue. Keep going and MAYBE I'll taste that slick pussy of yours. Love Mistress J." Becky was unable to resist the temptation; she leaned over the counter and moved both hands to her pussy. She frigged herself shamelessly, thinking of her beautiful Mistress and her wonderful pussy. "Oh, I hope she does me. Yessss, that would be wonderful, oh so wonderful," she mumbled as she frigged furiously. When she came, Becky sagged to her knees and almost struck her chin in the descent to the tile floor. "Oh, yesss," she moaned.

With nothing left to do but sleep or play, Becky experimented to see if her leash would reach the tub; it did. Becky resolved to be especially attentive to her Mistress, the soothing effect of the warm water was almost worth her enslavement. Becky knew that these people were serious about her being a slave. A bath was likely a luxury she might not always have. "It is best to enjoy this while I can. No telling what this new owner the doctor keeps mentioning is like," she reflected.

Anna did not awaken so dreamily as her older sister. She was in pain, deep throbbing pain. Her face felt like a baseball bat had hit it repeatedly. A moan of anguish came out of her mouth. The pain was so intense she didn't realize her collar had been turned off. Her boobies hurt as well. "Oh, it fucking hurts. What happened?" she wondered. "The doctor, … " she realized, "the doctor did something to me. Owww, it really hurts." Anna remembered only that the doctor had pulled her into an operating room by her titty leash. She had tried to resist, but her wrists had been securely locked to her waist belt. She was as afraid as a human could be, terrified to her very core. Just before her memory of the event ended, she remembered looking down at her faux pussy brand, the single slash of black hair. "I'm a natural blonde," she had wailed to herself, considering the black mark one of shame as well as the sign of her animal status.

Doctor Miller sat in an overstuffed chair watching her latest victim awaken. She grinned thinking of the pain she was going through. The doctor used minimal anesthesia during surgery on slaves. The result is they awoke faster, much more quickly alert, and without any lingering pain relief. She hissed her appreciation of the surgically enhanced breasts on the slender slave. "She really is a nice piece of ass," she told herself. "No way could I ever compete with this slut in the looks department. As a matter of fact," she added to herself wryly, "I doubt that I will ever develop the pussy eating skills of this fuckbunny's sister. Now that is a talented tongue!"

Joan Miller dreamily reviewed some of her explosive orgasms of the night before. It had felt so good she absolutely wanted to eat out the bitch in return for her glorious cums. "Fortunately," she thought, "I remembered my role; I must remain strong to bond the new pussy to me as Mistress. Robert will enjoy the transference of adoration to him later. As he told me once, this life is fucking great!"

She shook herself free of the pleasant memories and focused back on the woman tied on the gurney in front of her. One's head was positively swathed in bandages. Doctor Miller remembered the challenging task of drilling a big hole through the patient's septum and slipping both sides of a stainless steel grommet into place. The act of crimping the halves together had taken every bit of her strength, even with the massive crimping tool. The result was worth it, the nose ring could easily handle the weight of the subject alone.

Doctor Miller picked up her cell phone and dialed a phone number that rang in her basement room. After the message system cut in, she recited a simple command. She knew that Two would hear the message being recorded and respond accordingly.

"Two," she said authoritatively, "you better be cleaned up and sparklingly made up. I want your tongue inside me as soon as possible."

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

Becky Sawyer, a helpless slave now known only as Two, dropped her head against the bed in exhaustion. She had given the insatiable doctor / Mistress hours of oral sex. She had accepted that this woman was her Mistress, to be obeyed in everything. Then, the Mistress had rolled Becky off her body and the two had lain side-by-side, breathing heavily for long minutes. Each still faced the other's feet in the same position they had been in while Becky sucked, nibbled, licked, and chewed the doctor to orgasm after orgasm.

After a few minutes, the Mistress had rolled onto her side, facing Becky and nuzzled against her. Becky felt the Mistress' slim fingers running across her trim stomach and upper thighs; despite herself, she became aroused. Mistress kept running her fingertips lightly above and below her pubic area, never actually focusing in on a feminine erogenous zone. Becky couldn't help but arch her hips up as if she could get Mistress to play with her pussy. Doctor Miller grinned over at her and ran one hand teasingly through her two slashes of pussy hair. Becky rolled her hips up again but the teasing fingers drew away toward her belly button. The fingers returned again to the black-thatched slashes. Becky moaned and the fingers crept away again. "She wants me to be silent," she whispered to herself.

Doctor Miller enjoyed the flash of emotions that raced across her bound victim's face. She brought her fingertips back to the faux brand on her slave's pussy. As the slim hips rocked up to catch her fingers against the pussy lips, the doctor pushed hard against the slave's pussy mound. She heard another moan of passion and the doctor grinned and bent her face to the slave's hip. As her tongue came out and licked across the hip, the slave wriggled about desperately trying to get more stimulation from the tongue or teasing fingers. Joan giggled like a teenager at the response she had gotten from her slave. She slipped onto an elbow to move her face closer to the sweet smelling mound by her face. Two had used one of the doctor's favorite body lotions that made her skin smell fruity, almost strawberry-like. It beckoned her forward. "What the hell," she thought as her face swooped the rest of the way to the wonderful smelling pussy. "This cunt is only a loaner, I can appreciate her anyway I want." With that, she rolled over further, crawling atop the prone slave, moving her newly aroused pussy over Two's face even as her lips closed over the crinkly outer labia and her mouth sucked the hairless lips in, hard.

Becky felt the hot breath on her hip and moaned again. Then, amazingly, the Mistress' tongue and mouth slid down her pubic mound and suctioned her pussy into the hot mouth. "Eiiii," she shrieked softly. Her cry of pleasure was cut off as the Mistress' familiar cunt slipped over her face. Becky didn't mind extending her tongue as she was already arching her back in a long-delayed orgasm; not the petite ones she had experienced while she debased herself at this clinic, but an earth-shattering orgasm like she had only experienced while being ass fucked against her will by Joseph and her kidnapper. "Oh, yes, … fuck my pussy with your sweet tongue," she moaned into the drooling cunt on her face.

Doctor Joan Miller felt strong hands grasp at her sides. "That's as far as the little bitch can reach," she thought as Two's elbows were still tightly cuffed to her sides. The hands tried to pull her deeper toward Two's cunt and Doctor Miller let herself slip forward, giving her fuller access to the horny slut's pussy. She stiffened as the slave's tongue inserted itself in her own needy slit and despite the numerous orgasms she had already enjoyed, exploded in yet another. "Of fuck," she moaned, "this is really living."

Becky awoke again alone in bed. "Hmmm," she thought dreamily, "the doctor sure starts her day off early every day." She stretched out luxuriating in the feel of the crisp, sweet smelling sheets. Becky hardly noticed the odor of sex that hung heavily in the room. She was becoming acclimated to the smell of aroused pussy juice. She needed to pee and scooted over to the edge of the bed.

"Ahhh," she exhaled in pleasure, "nothing like the relief from a good pee. Hey, what's this," she muttered looking at the vanity mirror. She took a few sheets of toilet paper and wiped herself off before moving to the vanity. There was a camera and a note.

My little slutbunny:

I enjoyed your delicious tongue yesterday and can't wait to do it again. I want you to make me a video to remember your submissive nature and sweet pussy. Place the camera on the vanity and aim it to the bedroom chair. Climb up and pleasure yourself with my favorite black double dildo. Talk slutty and let me know how it feels when you cum. Don't stop until the tape ends. Happy fucking, slut.

Mistress

Becky read the note and a thrill of pleasure coursed through her at the sight of the big black dildo, it was easily sixteen-inches long. The camera stood ready, pointed to the chair in the bedroom. Becky turned it on and observed the white chair in the viewfinder. Satisfied, she walked over and sat down. After a moment's thought, she slipped her ass down and raised her legs up and over the arms of the chair, opening her shaved pussy in readiness for the dildo. Becky moaned loudly with real pleasure and started talking as the fat cock head explored around her aroused lips. "Hello Mistress," she said coyly, "this is your slut slave Two. I'm so eager to do whatever you desire." She ran her tongue around her dry lips and continued, "My pussy gets wet at just the thought of your wonderful body. Ohhh, your cunny is so sweet." Becky continued with her self abuse and found herself becoming more and more aroused. The fake black cock became shiny with her pussy slime and she began to rock her hips more and more in response to the hard cock.

Becky remembered the doctor's comment from the night before and couldn't help but agree with it in its entirety. Even though she was unable to control her destiny, her present fate was not too desperate. "Actually, I don't mind this lesbian stuff," she thought with a sigh. "Yes, this isn't too bad a life."

In another part of the clinic, her sister was awakening to a different viewpoint. She once again hurt everywhere from the plastic surgery. Anna Sawyer found nothing enjoyable about her slavery; it had been a never-ending cycle of pain and humiliation. She was once again bound on the examining table and her nude form was swathed in white bandages. Anna couldn't see her face, it was totally covered in bandages, as were her breasts. The deep aching pain was considerable. Doctor Miller didn't believe in wasting unnecessary anesthesia or pain relievers on slaves. Becky had no idea that she had a reprieve from surgery only until her younger sister recovered enough to pose as a model for Becky's pending surgeries.

Unknown to Becky, Doctor Miller was enjoying the wireless feed coming from the video camera. She thrilled to hear her slave abase herself as she fucked herself senseless. Two kept calling over and over for her Mistress as she fucked the big black cock deep into her cunt. The video feed was detailed enough to see the clasping, greedy lips clinging to the shiny cock. She smiled thinking of her other toys that the little fucktoy would be introduced to. The next toy she visualized was a favorite, a strap-on dildo that thoroughly stimulated her pussy and clit as she fucked the heavily veined dick into her lover. Doctor Miller used the strap-on to butt-fuck her male submissives and intended to introduce Two to both cunt and ass screwing with the toy. "Hmmm," I can't wait till tonight. I think the little slut might be sore tomorrow. Maybe her pussy will have some blisters from the hard fucking she will get. … Hmmm, blisters in her pussy, … what a thought. I wonder, …"

The thought of endlessly fucking the delectable toy had given her an evil idea. As a doctor, she knew well that there was no such thing as 'Spanish Fly.' But, she also knew that there was more than one way to make a cunt itch for relief. She had some work to do that might make her two temporary toys more manageable. If she was right, they would do anything to get a cock or tongue deep in their pussies. "Yess," she hissed evilly, "this might work well."

Maybe Becky's plight was not as good as she thought it was.

Author: Desert Dog

E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--- To Be Continued ---

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 33 – The Conniving Daughter (or The Secretary's Toy)

Robert Morgan and Gene St. James continued with their mission to rescue Roland Heath. The retired industrialist had lived alone with his daughter and two granddaughters in his northern New York estate. Despite Roland and Sharon Heath's devotion to their only child, Jeanne Heath turned out to be a parasitic bitch, running away to Europe and abandoning her twin daughters after she became pregnant by one of a succession of anonymous lovers. The twins grew up into haughty bitches, convinced they were superior and deserved special attention. Roland and Sharon tried everything to work with the three women. After Sharon's death four years ago, the three remaining women in his life became increasingly out of control. Finally, Jeanne reacted to her daughters' recommendation to get rid of Roland Heath. It had been Jeanne's idea to commit her father to an asylum under the strict control of a bribed administrator.

Roland Heath worshipped his missing wife, but enjoyed a healthy sexual relationship with his nurse, the thirty-six year old Maddalena Camillo. Maddalena had gigantic natural breasts and gorgeous long blonde hair. She and the much older Roland fucked like minks at every opportunity. On duty twenty-four hours a day, the nurse and the retired executive had sucked and fucked themselves to countless orgasms.

Gene St. James, Roland's secretary, was a fifty-five year old man that had served faithfully for going on his thirtieth year. He had been upset with the sudden disappearance of his long-time friend. Both Gene and his boss, Roland, were physical fitness devotees who ran, lifted weights, bicycled, and swam. Both had sharp, cunning minds and the two made a team that had legitimately earned hundreds of millions of dollars.

Robert Morgan and Gene St. James continued through the underground corridor back to the hidden entry under the mansion's rear staircase. The pyrotechnic charges were left in place as warning if someone else wandered through the slaver complex. The twins had lubricated the sliding wood panel well; it moved shut silently behind the men. The house was also dark, it was well after midnight by now.

"Jeanne Heath never much liked the staff here," Gene volunteered. "It's possible that all of the interior staff has been changed out. My contacts, the drivers and garden staff, are only day workers. They don't know what's going on in the house. Jeanne does have a monster bodyguard with her at all times. He is probably very dangerous."

"Get me upstairs, I want to see the women's bedrooms," Robert responded quietly.

The two drifted wraithlike through the silent house. They started up the rear stairs leading to the family quarters. Occasional night-lights glowed reassuringly from alcoves and rooms off the side of the main house corridors. Gene led Robert into a large anteroom with a sitting area and a bedroom beyond. "This was Roland's suite. The room next door was Maddalena's and she had a hidden entry into the sitting area."

Gene walked over to a credenza with family pictures. "Here are the twins. Roland and Sharon really loved those grandkids. He gave them chance after chance. I don't think he would ever have given up on them. They were set for life."

Robert glanced at the picture. It showed the twins dressed up on a Hawaiian vacation. They looked happy and vivacious; no sign of their evil scheming minds apparent in the gorgeous bodies. Robert sighed at the waste.

He nodded his head toward the rest of the wing. Gene led the way out of the master suite and headed toward the room of the daughter, Jeanne Heath.

Gene signaled Robert to pass on first toward the entry ahead. Each loosened their weapons. Robert crept up to the entry and carefully opened the door. Jeanne's suite was a miniature version of her father's. The outer sitting area was empty. Robert moved more confidently as his feet moved onto the room's carpeting from the hard wood of the hallways. He cocked his ear at the sound of passionate moaning drifting from the bedroom. The entry was a large arch, so no door had to be opened to get close to the copulating couple on the bed beyond.

Robert looked into the room. Jeanne Heath was a tall willowy woman with a perfect body. The thirty-nine-year-old was in absolute top shape. She was writhing in ecstasy atop the bulky body of a man. He was tied, spread-eagle, atop the sheets. The night vision goggles showed the man's fat dick buried in Jeanne's cunt. The room reeked of sex and the wet slime of natural sex lubricant covered their crotches. Jeanne's long black hair whipped about as she moved with demented speed upon the body below her. Her perfect ass was framed by the contrasting black garter belt she wore and her long legs were still clad in black seamless stockings.

Robert saw that Gene was staring, open-mouthed, at the lusty spectacle. His own eyes swept across the room and he discovered a cast-aside man's suit with a double weapon harness lying atop the crumpled pile. "Guess I found the newly hired bodyguard," he thought with a grin.

"Oh, Rafael," Jeanne was moaning in lust, "you have the best cock. Just a little more, … oh, yesss! What a fuck! Ohhhh, … ohhh, … yesss." Jeanne yelled and then collapsed, covered in a sweaty sheen from her vigorous fuck. The two remained joined by the bodyguard's enormous shaft. She groaned again and said, "You are a great lover, baby. Keep helping me with Roland and you can write your own ticket."

"Yeah, baby," came a gruff reply from under the glorious body. "But that's later. Let me loose and I'll finish this fuck in style. I haven't come yet."

"Hmmm, baby; but, I'm so fucked out from this round," the woman responded in a sultry voice. "Since you're so tied up at the moment, I think I'll just take a little nap. We can continue later."

Gene took that moment to fire his taser into the glistening ass cheeks of the woman. Two matching darts buried themselves in her ass, narrowly missing her pussy, still spayed wide open with her lover's hard dick. Robert calmly walked up and sunk his stun gun deep into the tennis ball-sized nut sacks of the bodyguard, and triggered the high-impedance discharge. The bodyguard's body convulsed and arched upward, throwing off his already stunned fuckmate. Almost 625 thousand volts of high frequency energy had pulsed deeply through the Rafael Domatto's sex organs. The vicious charge depleted his blood sugar, converting it nearly instantly to lactic acid. The neurological impulses also traveled throughout his body, completely disabling the muscle-bound man. The bodyguard's bladder released a shower of smelly urine into Jeanne's splayed open cunt as an aftereffect of the horrific electrical discharge on his genitals

Robert focused his attention on the bodyguard. The bonds holding him in the bed were lightweight amateurish things that had to be replaced with Robert's professional grade bondage items. Robert used high-strength, double-locking police cuffs on the man's wrists and ankles. A third cuff joined the wrists and ankles in an incredibly strong hogtie. A ballgag and blindfold were added. Robert took two syringes full of a solution similar to a 'roofie', only with added tranquilizers and muscle relaxers. The cocktail of drugs had effective amnesia-like properties. Rafael would never remember how he was captured; probably even forgetting his last fuck with Jeanne Heath. Robert Morgan had just judged and convicted the man, he had just been fully implicated by the sexy woman's comments. Rafael was doomed. He would pay a price for his illegal involvement with the immoral Heath women.

By the time Robert finished trussing up his latest victim on the bedroom floor, Gene was also finished. Robert looked up at the bed and his chin dropped down in surprise. "Gene," he said admiringly, "you are a very horny bastard. You just got your rocks off in that nice, young piece of ass and now you're going to nail her mom."

Gene St. James had thrown all the bed's pillows into a single stack right on top of the wet spot left from Jeanne's drooling cunt and her bodyguard's stinking urine. Next, Gene had rolled the still helpless woman atop the pillows and then used Jeanne's own bondage cuffs on her, trapping her wrists and ankles in place. Gene had also added his own twists, a loop of Robert's bondage rope now secured each elbow a foot or so away from the corresponding knee. He was just retightening the bed's bondage cuffs when Robert looked up at him.

Gene grinned down at Robert and said, "Look, when you're my age, you take any piece of pussy or ass whenever you can get it. Besides, I've live a pretty vanilla life for the last twenty years. It's time to do some adjusting with my sex life."

"Plus," he added while slapping Jeanne's nearby ass with his open hand, "this cunt has looked down her snotty nose at me for most of her life. I plan on being deep in her ass when she recovers from the taser."

Robert looked down at the bodyguard and confirmed that he had worn a condom. "At least the bitch hasn't ruined her resale value with a bad case of STDs," he thought. "Gene," he yelled over, "you planning on using a rubber with that bitch?"

Gene set his cockhead against the woman's slippery labia and sunk in an inch or so before catching Robert's eye, "I plan on buying this cunt from you after we free Roland. Under our agreement, all this booty is yours; but I really need to have this one. Roland will let me keep her in the facilities under the estate. I might even ask to move in here; this can be a pretty good life with free cunt on demand."

"This thing with the daughter is partly Roland's decision, Gene," Robert reminded him. "The old man might not want to ever see her again. You have to respect his wishes, you know."

A tortured "Ughhh," came out from under Gene's body as his dick sunk deeper into Jeanne's loose pussy. "Wwwhat's going on? Rafael! Rafael is that you?"

"No, little slave," Robert taunted the woman. "That is not your bodyguard getting ready to fuck you. Rafael is out of your life for good. Enjoy your first fuck as livestock," Robert taunted the woman.

Gene moaned slightly as the woman's hot vagina wrapped itself around his chaffed cock. He was a little sensitive after ass fucking one of the twins. "Hey," he told himself happily, "since I've already some, maybe this will be one of those fucks that lasts all night." Gene rotated his hips and pulled all the way out of the wet, slippery cunt. He brought his right arm back and delivered a stinging slap across her outthrust right rump. "Hey, bitch!" he yelled, "You ready to fuck like the Energizer Bunny?" He slapped her ass again and said, "Move those hips, or I'm gonna keep on slapping away. Let's fuck you little whore!"

Jeanne felt the first stinging blow and involuntarily contracted her pussy muscles at the pain. Before she could relax, the man riding her back plunged into her, hard. "Ughhh," Jeanne moaned again. "Not so hard, please," she whimpered.

The cunt fuck was becoming a little too easy in the woman's wet and sloppy pussy. "It's not that she's a loose fuck," Gene told himself, "it's just that she's already wet from Rafael. Time to switch holes here." Gene pulled all the way out of her cunt and leaned back on his haunches. He took his right hand and forced his four fingers into a cone, covering his thumb. Without pause, he jammed the four fingers knuckle-deep into her wet vagina on the first plunge. He pulled the fingers out with a wet slurping sound and lined up his middle finger's tip with her brown ass grommet. Gene leaned in hard, burying his fingers halfway to the knuckles in her ass. The fingers pulled out, bringing the clinging narrow ass lips out in imitation of pursed lips. Back into her pussy plunged the fingers. Jeanne grunted again in protest and gurgled something about stopping. Gene pulled out again and jammed even harder into her ass. The motion was repeated again and again, until he was able to bury the hand equally deep in either ass or pussy. At that point, her ass remained open for long seconds due to the painful stretching.

After at least fifty long finger plunges into both holes, Gene pulled his hand out and lined his cockhead up with the opening of her ass. Gene leaned forward, hard, and plunged deep into her ass in one fucking plunge. Jeanne wailed below him at the indignity. "Never gotten it up the ass, you little whore?" he mocked her.

Jeanne blubbered, "NNNooo. Stop, … please, … please stop. I'm so sorry for anything I've done."

"Eiiii," she shrieked as Gene's relentless fucking of her ass began in earnest. His balls were audible as they thunked against her pussy under his fat, fuck bar, plunging in and out of her steamy ass.

"Yes, baby. You are a great piece of ass. I'm gonna keep you and use this cock on your ass every day. Soon, you might forget what that pussy is for."

Robert said, "I'll give you some time to test ride this cunt. Let me know when you're ready for the next phase. I'm heading down to set up the computer displays in the garage."

Robert Morgan left the rutting couple and headed toward the front of the mansion and the stairs leading to the ground level. The garage was several hundred yards away from the main house. It was a convenient place to set up his computer and attempt to gain satellite connectivity. Robert found a workbench perfect for setting up his laptop computer. Within minutes, he had established connectivity with both the GPS network of satellites and the normal communication satellite he used for his high-speed internet access. An array of different colored lights spiraled around the computer screen. Robert Morgan was looking at the plot of three days positional data for the five Heath vehicles that Gene had been able to mount GPS trackers on. It was relatively easy to determine where Roland was located. Robert would let Gene know so that he could extract the appropriate information from Jeanne Heath regarding what type facility she had secreted Roland. Gene and Robert were each interested in the answer to that question.

Robert Morgan knew that he needed to first rescue Roland Heath and then figure out how to return the kidnapped teens to their families. "Rescue first," he reminded himself. Then he laughed as the obvious sounds of vigorous fucking continued to echo from his radio earpieces. "Way to go Gene," he responded through the radio. "Fuck that cunt blind, then let's get the interrogation going. I want to find Roland Heath before something very bad happens."

Gene St. James was a little too preoccupied to respond to Robert's message. Instead, he took a deep rasping breath and wiped the sweat off his brow and hair. The fuck was long and satisfying, but it was drawing to an end. Gene had to admit that the duration of this second fuck was more dependant upon his endurance than his ability to keep from cumming into the hot, buttery ass chute. "Ohhh, yes. What an ass. I'm gonna heat this thing up every day. Hope you like anal, Jeanne, cause you're gonna get it a lot. Whew! Fuck! Can't last much longer."

Jeanne's ass was burning from the stretching, rolling fuck she was getting. "He's truly trying to ream me out," she told herself in amazement. The dick yanked her thin rectal chute around in circles as his hips twirled the fat cock around her inner channel. Despite herself, Jeanne found herself enjoying the anal rape. "His balls keep hitting my clit," she told herself. "Yess, fuck me, you stud!" she started to pant aloud. Her voice grew louder in volume as she came closer to climax. She tightened her pussy muscles and anally tried to milk the jism out of his cock. "Fuck, … fuck, … fuck me," she panted, louder and louder.

Robert heard the woman's begging cadence increase with her ardor. "She's a natural for anal," Robert told Gene in the radio. "Give it to her so we can get her interrogation going. I want details on who is holding Roland Heath, what pretense has been created for his commitment, and who all the bastards are that participated in this kidnapping."

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

Robert and Gene had securely locked Rafael Domatto in one of the long-unused slave cells below the estate. He was still handcuffed, though not in the hogtie. To be sure he behaved, Robert had administered a syringe filled with a solution similar to a 'roofie', only with added tranquilizers and muscle relaxers. The cocktail of drugs had effective amnesia-like properties. If it worked right, the bodyguard would remember nothing beyond being invited into Jeanne's bed for a round of kinky sex.

Rafael Domatto was in Slave Holding Cell H-1. The teens were contentedly punishing the twins for their actions and had regained much of their poise. Restoration of power throughout the complex had heartened the former captives a lot. The best move made by the men was letting the teens have the armloads of designer clothing thrown into the room after they had pilfered through the twin's extensive wardrobe. As a joke, Robert wouldn't let Gene bring any lingerie down to the teens. Each grinned, thinking of a delectable teen decked out in designer finery, without panties or bras. It was a tempting thought.

Jeanne Heath had been easy to break. The ferocious ass fucking had already broken her spirit and the knowledge that she had completely lost control of her life had sapped any further resistance. She spilled the beans on the entire plot, even laying out how much money she had used to bribe the asylum owner. Jeanne admitted wantonly fucking the man while she watched her father undergo torturous electro-shock therapy. On at least one occasion, the owner had personally administered the shocks while Jeanne and a facility nurse had watched from the privacy of the viewing booth. She told how she had seduced the woman and how the administrator and nurse conspired to keep Roland a secret prisoner from the rest of the staff, hiding the unorthodox treatment regime from any medical review. Gene and Robert had discretely matched eyes at the revelations. They each knew that maybe the combination of drugs and electro-shock had already destroyed Roland's keen mind.

Gene had shown a special enjoyment during Jeanne's preparation for the rescue. She was forced to dress in front of the two men, her body still musky from her long night of sex with her bodyguard and then Gene St. James. Cum was still dripping from her distended twat and ass lips as she shrugged a wispy pair of black panties up her legs. She had blanched at the threat of having to chew on the stinky panties during the drive home if she failed to follow all directions exactly. The obvious look of discomfort as she pulled up the gooey crotch panel over her matted pubic hair was priceless. Even after donning her expensive black dress, Jeanne's disheveled black hair and stretched out stockings made her look the just-fucked slut.

As a final item of jewelry, Robert had locked a dog-training collar around her neck. He set the voice control to a quiet whisper, anything else and she would be brutally shocked. After a few sample shocks, Jeanne sunk to the floor on her ruined stockings and whispered quietly for mercy. Neither man had the slightest sympathy for the conniving woman.

"Well, little sex slave," Robert said, "time to go release your father and we'll get him to help decide your fate.

The reunion between Roland's nurse and the daughter was not without incident. Maddalena Camillo had walked up to the broken woman and decked her with a roundhouse blow that would have done credit to a heavyweight in the boxing ring. Robert was seriously worried that Maddalena had broken the woman's jaw or nose. Fortunately, Jeanne was in good enough shape to continue with the plan. As they loaded up one of the estate's Mercedes sports utility vehicles, Maddalena had wrinkled her nose at Jeanne's musky scent. "Did the haughty bitch spend the night lying in a urinal?" the nurse asked with a grimace. "God! You stink like a whorehouse, girl." She looked accusingly at the two men. "Did you two sleep with this skanky bitch? Damn! Keep your distance from me; I don't want to get body lice or crabs from this slut."

Jeanne Heath, the former snobby, high society lady, had bowed her head meekly. She sat quietly during the ride through the beautiful New York countryside, tears trickling down her cheeks. Jeanne's makeup was applied the morning before and the trauma of the last twelve hours had streaked the mascara and foundation. Jeanne Heath looked like a hooker that was just coming off shift after servicing a night's worth of johns.

Robert parked the large Mercedes and looked about the cabin. "Everyone know their role?"

Gene had answered with a simple, "Yes."

Maddalena's response was a little more direct. "I'm only helping you two because you promised to punish anyone that did this to Roland. I intend to hold you to that promise." She nodded over toward Jeanne and added, "This slut better be reined in good after this is over. Roland has turned his cheek away from her insults and deceptions for long enough."

Jeanne had simply nodded her head when it was her turn to answer the question about her understanding what she was to do at the asylum.

It was simple to gain access to the Asylum Director's office. Doctor Dustin Woods was an officious little creep with a Hitler mustache. Early in the morning and well before normal work hours, the security and reception areas were unattended. The small facility could not afford to man those desks twenty-four hours a day. The four had simply walked into the Director's office. The slender man exhibited the mannerisms of a woman. Both Gene and Robert had raised their eyebrows upon meeting the effeminate man, wondering both how Jeanne had ever been attracted to the man and which sex he actually preferred. After they chatted for a few minutes, Robert had simply pulled out his taser and shot the luckless man directly in the face.

Maddalena gave him an approving grin at the decisive move. Kept out of the earlier adventures because she was still sleeping quietly, she had harbored grave doubts that her partners were capable enough to deal firmly with their adversaries. Like Rafael Domatto, Doctor Dustin Woods was administered a syringe filled with a solution similar to a 'roofie', only with added tranquilizers and muscle relaxers. The cocktail of drugs had effective amnesia-like properties. If it worked right, Doctor Dustin Woods would awaken remembering nothing about the short meeting. When Robert pulled a strange looking tool out of his small shoulder bag, Maddalena's grin became decidedly feral.

Gene looked on with fascination as Maddalena wrestled Dustin's pants and underwear down to his knees. She yanked on his cock and pulled the man's ball sacks out from his body. Robert took a dime-sized piece of rubber out of a pocket and forced the tiny fingers at the end of the tools arms to slip within the tiny rubber ring. It was an extremely thick-walled ring of incredibly strong rubber. When Robert squeezed the handgrip, the fingers smoothly slide outwardly, opening the ring of rubber into a larger circle. Robert slid the circle of rubber around the man's cock and Maddalena then pulled everything through, allowing Robert to set the circle against the man's torso. Robert relaxed his grip on the emasculating tool and slid the steel fingers free of the loop of rubber. "The band is already crushing the blood vessels and nerve channels in his cock," Robert said. "Within minutes, irreparable damage will be done to his cock. By the time he awakens from the drug cocktail, nothing will be salvageable from his dick. Just for fun, I'm going to apply bands to each of his balls and to his cock head."

Gene cringed when Maddalena yanked each ball sack through a loop. Having less tissue to compress, the bands easily returned to their dime size, crunching the connective tissue holding each sack in place. "The man is already a eunuch," Gene told himself. "Poor dickless bugger."

Jeanne Heath was busy accomplishing her tasks; searching for the location of the remainder of the cash she had given the Asylum Director for taking on her father's care, and the staff work schedule. She found almost 1.1 million dollars in a wall safe. The amount was more than the amount she originally used to bribe Doctor Woods. Nurse Mary Alice Sheridan was not due to come in for several hours. The Director held the personnel files, to include Mary Alice's, with all the employee home addresses.

"First priority is Roland," Robert declared. "Then, we can intercept the head nurse and have some fun with her. Let's go."

A few minutes later the four were wheeling a gurney down the corridor, heading for Roland Heath's padded cell. Maddalena and Jeanne were guiding the gurney. The control unit for Jeanne's training collar was held in Maddalena's right hand, she was not trusting at all of the apparently cowed slave. Since her initial break-in session, Jeanne Heath had been fully obedient. The sight of Robert's first revenge against her accomplice, Doctor Dustin Woods, had renewed her vows to cooperate and minimize her punishment. Jeanne knew she was no pain bitch; she merely liked to fuck. Her conspirator was unconscious on the gurney; his balls and penis were already a deep purple from the irreparable damage caused by the emasculator bands.

Gene St. James guarded the rear and Robert Morgan took point, his taser and deadlier 9-mm readily available. Dustin had confirmed that few staff members were on site at this time of day other than two orderlies and a nurse.

The gaggle was approaching the final turn to Roland's room when they came face to face with the only nurse on duty in the facility. It only took one fast look at the group to be sure something was very wrong. She opened her mouth to scream for assistance and the two darts from Robert's taser struck her squarely in the chest. The dangling lines leading to the gun carried the massive electrical discharge that instantly dropped her to the floor of the corridor. Robert easily picked up the petite woman and draped her sideways across the gurney and motioned the group onward.

The first of their two target rooms was just ahead; it was the electro-shock therapy room. Robert swept in fast, automatic and taser in his fists. The room was empty. Robert took a deep breath and signaled for the gurney to be brought in. The door was shut and the other three looked at Robert for guidance. He just grinned as he primed a syringe and said, "Jeanne, make yourself useful, lift up the nurse's dress and pull off her panties."

Jeanne Heath numbly followed his orders. She really didn't care what she did to someone else, as long as nobody hurt her more. The woman's trim ass was bent over the gurney in such a fashion that her knee-length white uniform as very snug around her hips. She grunted as she tugged hard to get the dress up and all the way over the taut ass. The woman wore white pantyhose. Jeanne slipped her fingers under the woman and found the waistband. She pulled the hose all the way down to her ankles in one, long move. A lacy and skimpy pair of black panties covered part of the nurse's ass in sharp contrast to the white nurse's garb. Jeanne dutifully took the panties down and stepped back for more directions.

Robert stepped up and briefly admired the shapely ass. In other times, he would have bound this one up. "This is a definite keeper," he said admiringly. "Look at that ass. Wow!" He ran his left hand across a plump butt cheek and steadied the flesh while he sunk the sharp needle to the hilt in the flawless flesh. Robert slowly depressed the plunger. When he was finished he said, "Jeanne, get the woman naked from the waist down. Gene, take off her dress and bra. Maddalena, prep the shock table for our young nurse here. We're going to make it look like the Director assaulted her, became despondent, and then tried to take his own life."

Everyone sprang to work. Within minutes the nurse was laid out naked on the leather reclining chair that was the central feature of the room. Maddalena handed Gene the collar remote and started to strap the woman into place. Robert took the time to strip off Doctor Dustin Woods' clothing and plant the limply unconscious man's prints on the emasculator and on a huge neon dildo.

"Jeanne, get your ass up here and start shaving this pussy. I want every single hair off. It will be good practice for you; do yourself the first chance you get to shower or bathe." Robert handed the woman a hospital shaving pack from inside one of the room's storage shelves.

Despite not ever shaving her own pussy, let alone someone else's; Jeanne made short work of the job. Maddalena filled the plastic disposable shaving bowl with warm water and threw in a small washcloth. Jeanne twisted the excess water out of the cotton cloth and draped it over the hairy bush to soften the pubic hair. The shaving pack held a small container of shaving gel. Robert laughed as he watched Jeanne tentatively rub the slippery gel over the crinkly brown pubic hair. Jeanne gained confidence as she proceeded. She was able to make long, smooth strokes of the disposable safety razor, quickly denuding the shapely mound. Maddalena had found a body lotion that she silently handed to Jeanne to use. Soon, the nurse's hairless pussy glistened from the fresh coat of lotion, looking very much like the hairless gash of a child.

"Jeanne," Robert said, "you aren't finished until you run your tongue over everything to be sure no stray stubble remains. Then, I want you to loosen up and lubricate that sleeping pussy so that it can hold this two-foot-long dildo.

Jeanne felt weak in the knees when she saw the pliable jelly cock. "It is my favorite kind," she thought to herself in disbelief. "Ohhhh, I need to be fucked now," she thought. She turned to Robert and sunk to her knees before him. "Please," she whispered quietly, "will you fuck me after this? I am so hot." She repeated herself shamelessly, "Please, I'm being good. Will you fuck me?"

Robert grinned down at the broken slut. "Well, cunt; at thirty-nine, you are a little old and used up for me. After all, you look 'rode hard and put away wet' and you smell like a whore just cumming off shift."

Jeanne Heath lowered her head and begged again, "Please, fuck me. I promise to be your good slave, but I need a good hard cock."

Robert grabbed her disheveled black hair and replied, "OK, cunt. You can get some cock on the ride to get Nurse Sheridan. Course, daddy will be there to watch."

Jeanne sobbed quietly, ever-careful not to trigger the training collar. She nodded and turned back to the freshly shaved pussy. Unlike her daughters, she had never been this close to a cunny, let alone readying herself to suck one. She ran a slick tongue around one side of the woman's labia. "Hmmm," she thought, at least this one is clean, unlike my stinky pussy. Thank God for that." She felt a hand pushing her deeper into the nurse's crotch. When long fingernails sunk into her scalp, she knew that it was her father's nurse getting some revenge. Unfazed, she ignored the distraction and focused on doing a good enough job to keep her owners happy and to earn some cock on the way home. Her pussy spasmed at the thought and she involuntarily humped her hips against the air. A red flush of shame covered her face at Maddalena's lusty laugh. "She saw me. Ohh, my, what a slut I am." She sucked the hairless labia into her mouth and leaned back, the strong mouth suction pulling the nurse's loose cunt lips away from her mound. She heard a faint, "Good slut. That's how to eat pussy. Hurry up and finish." When she leaned back a few minutes later, she saw that the pussy was glistening now, mostly from her wet saliva. The purple jelly cock slipped past her face and the big burly man jammed it into the slippery pussy, sinking at least eight inches deep inside. Jeanne's pussy twitched again. "Ohhh, that is so hot," she moaned aloud only to flush red with embarrassment again.

Robert motioned for Gene to take charge of the fuck-bunny while he finished setting up the room. Maddalena had strapped a leather tongue and tooth protector around the nurse's head and already had the various electrodes attached to her nude form. Jeanne had told how Doctor Dustin Woods had gleefully demonstrated his modified electro-shock machine. The electro-shock machine was designed to reset to zero after every shock, forcing the settings to be manually reset. Doctor Woods had modified the machine to re-administer a set voltage and shock duration at any preset time interval. Maddalena set it to shock the woman at a very low setting, each fifteen minutes. She indicated it would not damage the woman and it would look as if the doctor was preparing to really torture the woman when remorse for his acts set in. The dosage of barbiturates that Maddalena administered via syringe was a dangerously high level, but the doctor had better than a fifty-fifty chance of being alive when found hours later.

While Maddalena and Robert were busy, the ever-horny Gene had been drawn to the drawers of medical items in the room. He found some lengths of surgical tubing and wound two shorter sections around the nurse's tits. He topped off the pinkly glowing breasts with several sterile needles from one of the drawers. The tubing was carefully adjusted to not do any long-term damage. Gene, Robert, and Maddalena had already agreed to not harm any innocents at the asylum if possible. However, the authorities would discover the seemingly abused woman; drugged, shaved, titty tortured, and subjected to electro-shock. Doctor Woods would face prison and the loss of his medical license; a fully justified punishment based upon what he had done to a healthy man for a bribe of money and sex.

Jeanne had finished her task and knelt on the cold tile floor waiting for instructions. A wispy pair of black panties were dangled in front of her face. The flush that swept through her body this time was of sexual excitement. Without being told, she took the panties from the calloused hand with her teeth and she slowly worked it into her mouth, hands free. When the entire pair of panties were within her teeth, she slowly began to chew on them, savoring the mild taste of the nurse's pussy juices. Her pussy spasmed again and she nearly came. Jeanne moaned in lust. "Hease," she begged softly, "huck me now, here."

Robert laughed and said, "Jeanne, if you want it that bad, drop your panties and bend over the naked nurse. Stay there until I come to get you."

The gooey panties were already down on the tile floor. Jeanne was just climbing up when Robert put his hand on her shoulder. "Forget something, little slut?" he asked while pointing to the panties.

Jeanne knelt down and gingerly picked up her jism and shit and pussy cream and jism coated panties. They were wet and sticky to the touch. She hesitated.

"OK, slut," Robert said gently. "Just keep them handy for later, in case you don't fuck well enough. Put them by your face as a reminder of what might be." He laughed and led the group out of the room. He paused long enough to lock the shock-therapy room door before joining the other two who stood at the entry to the next room.

"I think we're gonna need the gurney," Gene whispered quietly.

Maddalena whimpered at the sight of her lover's condition and rushed into the room past Gene St. James to get to Roland Heath's still form.

Robert didn't even look, he just quietly took the gurney and moved it toward Gene. "Come on Gene," he said, "we have to deal with what we got here."

Roland Heath was a filthy, unshaven, catatonic mess. He was curled up in the corner of the padded cell, wearing a straight-jacket. Maddalena wiped his brow with a damp cloth and checked his vital signs. At her command, Gene and Robert lifted the wiry executive's form up onto the gurney and they all helped unbuckle the complicated restraint device. "There's no chart of course," Maddalena hissed, "the fuckers wouldn't want to leave an audit trail of their abusive treatment. I can't give him anything until we flush out everything in his system. Let's go."

Gene signaled Maddalena to push the gurney toward the exit. Robert said, "you two go on ahead. Gene, use your throat mike if you run into trouble. I want to wrap up something with the little cunt next door."

Maddalena looked him in the eye and said, "I hope it hurts her a lot more than just your stiff dick poking her. After all, the bitch craves sex, that's why she has always gotten in trouble. At least whip her ass with your belt. If there are no marks afterward, then you are a wimpy pussy."

Gene laughed and swatted Maddalena lightly on her butt. Let's go get Roland loaded up. Maybe you can use the quiet time in the van to crawl on top of him and cuddle a little bit. I think that would wake him from his coma. I'll wait outside the van."

Maddalena headed outside, she had already decided to follow Gene's advice as she knew it was sound advice to help break the mental coma. "Besides," she thought, "I'm more than ready to get that old goat buried up my pussy. Wonder what he'll think of my new bare pussy and piercings? Hmmm, I better nab a sheet on the way outside. Then, we can lay down undisturbed in the back of the Mercedes."

By this time, Robert had already closed the electro-shock room door behind him. Jeanne still lay atop the naked nurse, her designer dress crumpled up above the narrowest portion of her waist. She moaned and looked over her shoulder at him. Robert smiled down at the slut and admired the fat blue neon dildo that Jeanne had stuffed into her own twat while waiting for his return. He silently pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripped it open, and unrolled the thin latex over his throbbing cock. "I'm in charge of the rescue, and I'm the only one that hasn't been laid yet," he complained to himself. "Not counting Roland," he added under his breath. The two-foot long dildo plopped out of Jeanne's greedy pussy with a liquid slurping sound. He placed a thumb on either side of her brown asshole and pulled the cheeks apart strongly. The eight fingers on his hands curled tightly downward, locking his hands in place. Robert's hips rolled around a little before his plum-sized cockhead was aligned with her sopping wet pussy. Jeanne unexpectedly raised her hips and her already loosened cunt seemingly swallowed his knob as if it were alive. A long, drawn out sigh of contentment whispered out of Jeanne's lungs. Robert felt her cunt tighten around his knob and he swore it felt as if he couldn't extract the head from her pussy. Instead, he set his weight carefully and plunged his hips forward as hard as he could, driving his rock-solid nine-inch bar of fuckmeat all the way to her cervix.

Jeanne Heath grunted; even the experienced cock whore that she was, she was unable to accept the unyielding rod of dick without some discomfort. To compensate, she automatically wriggled her hips in a tight circle while raising her ass up into the buried dick with all her might. The hard head of the cock thumped against her cervix and Jeanne sighed again. "God, you feel great. Please, … don't pull back yet. Push in as hard as you can. I want to feel your nutsacks trying to get into my wet pussy."

Robert's dick lurched at the slut's comments. "Fuck!" Robert exclaimed aloud. "You are the most experienced piece of ass I've ever fucked, … tight and with talented muscles." It was easy to follow the whore's advice; it felt so good to be fully buried in her hot interior, that he didn't want to diminish the wonderful sensations. The feelings from Jeanne's talented pussy as it milked his fully buried dick exceeded the sensations of a cock wildly fucking in and out of a tight pussy. Robert was beginning to think he would explode without ever beginning a true fucking motion.

Jeanne was in another world; the place she loved to drift into while experiencing great sex. The man's hard bar of a cock was plenty for her. "It is so wonderful," she moaned. "Yesss, … yess, … yes! Oh, fuck me!" Suddenly, Jeanne's static hips changed from simply humped up against his heavy body to a wildly gyrating, hip blurring, fuck that put a belly dancer to shame.

Caught fully unawares by the aggressive hip motion and forced deep cunt stirring by his cock, Robert Morgan lost control of his barely restrained climax and his creamy jism exploded out of his cock. The condom filled with spurt after spurt of cum. The equally sudden subsurface contractions of Jeanne's belly, ass, and inner organs once again sucked at Robert's slowly softening dick.

Robert let go of the vise-like grip on her ass cheeks and he said, "You cheated me whore. I wanted to fuck more. That clasping, greedy asshole of yours was to be my next target. But, we'll have time for more later. Hand me the nurse's panties."

Jeanne shook herself alert. The big cock reaming her pussy had dulled her attention. She had a hard time focusing on anything except more sex. The sopping wet panties had been spit out onto the exam table beside her own sticky ones. She grabbed the spit covered pair and reached backward to hand them over.

"She can't see what I'm doing," Robert grinned to himself as he squeezed the contents of the just-used condom onto the panties. He folded everything up into a tight square and dredged the silk panties through her sopping wet pussy folds and cum-clumped pubic hair before jamming the slimy bundle into her pussy. Robert joined his two forefingers of his right hand together and forced the black panties deep into her pussy. Robert then leaned forward over Jeanne's body and snatched up her nasty pair of panties. He cupped his hand and brought them against her mouth and nose, holding them in place for long seconds, as if they were a breathing mask. Finally, Robert removed Jeanne's panties from her face and drilled them deep into her gapping cunt, beside the nurse's own panties.

"Gene, buddy. You still there?" Robert said, his breath portraying his still rapidly beating heart from the short, but extremely satisfying sex.

"Yeah, still here. How long we gonna keep up this voyeuristic shit?" he answered. "By the way," he laughed, "sounds like you took the oldest Heath pussy for a test drive."

"No shit!" Robert laughed back. "This is one talented piece o' ass. Even with her age, I think this one is a keeper. She'll keep my nutsacks from feeling any pressure buildup from backed up sperm. She is outta your league buddy!"

"We'll talk money later on," Gene responded wryly. "In the meantime, can you tuck your limp lizard away and join us; we're ready to go now."

"Roger," Robert responded. He turned back to the contented Heath woman. Robert aimed a calloused hand at her right ass cheek and let loose a stinging blow. "Let's go slut!!"

Walking down the corridor on the way out of the asylum, Robert was astounded at how cuddly and submissive the Heath woman was acting toward him. Since her capture and anal rape, she had exhibited no sign of her normally haughty, superior attitude. Instead, she had almost eagerly complied with every task she was given. "The woman is a natural submissive slut," he marveled. "I've never seen anything like it. The silly cunt is one of the best fucks I have ever heard of, and she likes being told what to do."

Robert cupped one of the slender woman's ass cheeks possessively and she practically purred at him. "Are you ready to go at it again?" he asked.

"Honestly," she murmured, "I would prefer a hot shower and a long soaking bath. But, … if you wanted it, I'd go down on my knees here in the hallway. Whatever, you want, … and I mean it."

"You know that I beat my sluts if they don't respond to training or follow rules?" Robert asked the sexually insatiable woman.

"I don't like pain or discomfort; but you already know, I fuck like a mink in heat. None of it is fake either. That's one reason I hate Daddy so much."

"What do you mean?" Robert asked.

"I was in heaven when I ran away to Europe," she responded dreamily. "Sure, I abandoned my babies; I never pretended to be a good mom. I lived in a commune and got sex five or six times a day. It was the best time of my life. Then, Daddy had his goons drag me home. It's not like I was on drugs or alcohol; I'm just addicted to sex. I'm a slut and I know it. Daddy kept me on a short leash and it was driving me crazy."

Robert pondered what the woman said. He was rethinking his decision to keep the woman for himself. "Yeah," he told himself, "she's probably a more enthusiastic fuck than any of my other women; but she would sour fast in a cell, only getting laid once or twice a week." Robert paused in the hallway and gently pushed Jeanne Heath up against the wall. He body molded itself to his form. He grabbed her face strongly between his hands and looked deep into her soul. "Either she is the best actress in the world, or she really is a compliant fuckbunny."

"Jeanne," he said a little menacingly, "you know your Dad is in a bad way. Gene St. James and Maddalena Camillo are leaning toward extremely harsh punishment for you. Especially given what your little brats have done."

"Wwhat, do you mean?" she stuttered. "Yes, I'm responsible for Daddy. That creep Dustin Woods got out of control once I succumbed and fucked him. After that, well, every time I came over here, that maniac got me turned to sex. I couldn't help myself. But, … the kids, ... what have those idiots done?"

"The twins got way out of control," Robert responded. "You never noticed, but they kidnapped Maddalena right after you sequestered your Dad away here. Then, they spent about a week torturing her before they started to get restless." Robert let his hands drift away from her face before he bruised her. "Do you know anything about how your family originally became rich?"

Jeanne just shook her head from side to side.

"Your ancestors were African slavers." he told her bluntly. "They brought hundreds of boatloads of captured savages to a brutal life here in America. Then, after the Civil War, they specialized in more expensive stock. Your family had the most renowned White Slaver business in the New World for over eighty years. That is, until your grandfather shut down the business about twenty-five years ago."

She stared dumbfounded at him, unable to put it all together. "BBut, … but, I'm thirty-nine." She stammered.

Robert rubbed his crotch against hers and said, "Yes, your Mother was your Daddy's favorite slave. When he shut down the business, he half-way freed your Mother. I think you take after her. No offense, but you are a natural-born slut. I can see why your parents were driven crazy. They should have never given you the option of making your own decisions."

"Yes," she purred, enjoying the thought of having the genetic heritage of a sexslave. "There is little doubt that I'm a slut. I'm not happy without lots of sex; dreamy slow sex, fast furious fucking, oral sex, anal sex, even lesbian sex. You already figured it out, give me lottsa sex and I'll do anything you want, act anyway you want, and be happy about it too." She reached down to fondle his cock, it was already swelling in response to her lush body draped across his front. Then she paused. "But, the problem is that my kids do things cause they're evil. I do bad things because I'm weak. What did they do?"

"They branded Maddalena after torturing her for days. Then, deciding she wasn't enough fun, they went out and kidnapped a group of high school teenagers on an athletic trip. Jeanne, they kidnapped and whipped four kids under eighteen years old."

To Jeanne's credit, she was horrified. "You have to let them go," she hissed. The training collar calculated that the end of her demand was too loud; it shocked her brutally. Only Robert's hold on her kept her upright. She struggled to recover and she crept up to put her face to his. "Please," she begged, "punish me for what I did, but let those teenagers go. You have to stop those girls before someone gets hurt."

Robert couldn't help but laugh quietly in her horrified face. "You better be careful, girl. Most folks would consider you guiltier than your young kids. Your Dad might still die from all this. Remember, this wouldn't have happened except you acted on those brats' plan."

"Well," she sobbed quietly, "I may be a useless whore, but I've always been responsible for my actions. What can we do to make it right?"

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "We'll decide on your fate later. Right now you need to know that your twins have been caught and are now in exactly the same situation they placed the teenagers. I'll figure out a way to get them back home. What do you think about your bodyguard buddy, Rafael Domatto?"

"Hhe, … he took advantage of me like everyone else. Once I fucked him, he wouldn't stop coming after me. The horny toad thought he could horn in on my families money. He even nailed me in front of the asylum head nurse, Mary Alice Sheridan. Later, she wouldn't leave me alone either. Really, I was trying to find a way to get better treatment for Father."

"Jeanne Heath," Robert said matter of factly, "you are too dangerous to have running around loose. You can't control your sex life and your family was so filthy rich, everyone wanted your ass and your money. If what you say about your kids is true, they were ready to start more mischief they you."

"I don't care about the kids," she said. "They are old enough to be responsible for paying for their own poor judgment. Same with me; I'll do whatever you decide."

"Robert," Gene shouted in his ear, "stop delaying and come on. We gotta get going before shift change. Don't forget the head nurse, Mary Alice Sheridan. You wanted to catch her at home."

Robert grabbed Jeanne's arm and took off at a fast clip toward the asylum entry. Gene was right, he was dawdling. He knew better than to develop a plan as he went. It seemed that nothing was working out as he visualized on this trip. Enroute to the car he whispered to Gene, "Did you hear our conversation?"

"Roger that! And, it was interesting. I want her more than ever."

"About that, …" Robert responded. "Would you keep only the one slut, or would you have others?"

"Guess you don't know me that well, Robert," he answered. "I'm a one-woman man. Sure, she'd be my sexslave, but I don't like complications. It would be as if we were married in a way. Guess that sounds sappy."

"Hmmm," Robert responded, "I'm rethinking my comment to you about keeping the slut. She needs a strong hand, I can provide that; but she also needs lots of sex. You're the only horny Billy Goat I know that would focus sole attention on the one slut. Me, I've got five or six that need fucking plus whatever sexing I have to do to the ones in training. I'm afraid I'd ruin the bitch's perfect submissive attitude."

Despite Robert's whispering, Jeanne heard every word of the one-sided conversation. She was thrilled to be discussed like a piece of worthless fuckmeat. Her response was to grab onto Robert's arm and lean her head against his shoulder. The two walked out of the asylum looking like two lovers out for a romantic stroll.

Robert couldn't help but think life was great. He had already taken in over 1.1 million dollars in cash on this easy job, plus he still had first rights on any of the product he acquired. So far he knew with certainty that he would keep the two twins and he was now equally sure that he would part with Jeanne for a reasonable fee to the constantly horny executive secretary. The only problem was finishing the job by getting Roland to recover, kidnapping the asylum nurse, and returning the teens to their homes. "Yes," he said aloud as he pushed Jeanne face-first onto the middle row of bench seats in the Mercedes and plundering her lush ass with his hands, "life is fucking great."

Jeanne Heath, the former international jetsetter, heiress, and master technician of sex, grunted in pleasurable agreement.

"Yes," they thought in unison, "life is fucking great."

--- To Be Continued ---

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 34 – The Head Nurse (or Only Another Sex Slave)

The Mercedes sports utility vehicle was being driven by Aaron Clarke, known as Robert Morgan while conducting illegal missions within the United States. He was trying to conclude a high-priority mission laid upon him by his long-time friend and business partner, Steve Austin. Steve's own long-time friend, Gene St. James, had begged for assistance in finding and rescuing his employer and best friend, Roland Heath. Unable to help because he was stuck on a freighter bound for the Philippines, Steve had passed the mission on to Aaron Clarke.

At that moment, Roland lay naked in a coma in the very back of the Mercedes. His nurse, and lover, was shielding him with her equally naked and stupendous body. The buxom blonde was trying to coax his brain into awakening from an electro-shock and drug induced coma. The two lay under a starchy white institutional sheet stolen from the asylum that Roland had just been rescued from. Maddalena Camillo was rubbing his flaccid cock while blowing her sweet breath into his ear and softly confessing her love.

The second row of seats was currently occupied by only one person, Roland Heath's oldest daughter Jeanne Heath. A self-avowed nymphomaniac, Jeanne knew that loose and free with unlimited wealth, she was a haughty and stupid fuckbunny, open to manipulation and control by others. Even though unchained, she knew that she was the property of the man named Robert who captured her in her own bedroom. She had been finishing a satisfying fuck with her bodyguard when everything went black. Next thing she knew, Gene St. James had his thick cock all the way up her wet, slithery pussy. He had quickly changed over to her unprepared asshole, where he pounded away, seemingly forever. Jeanne had no humiliation about the shameless way she climaxed during her ass rape. She acknowledged to herself that she was a wanton slut that needed to be dominated.

Robert threw Gene his Sidekick II. "I've already got this ready to send an AOL Instant Message to one of my co-workers. Type in that we have picked up the main package and the three little ones that go with it. There was no insurance on the main package and it is pretty beat up. Not to be pessimistic, but it may not be salvageable. We have some other loose ends to wrap up. As a business trip, this one is very profitable, especially if we can salvage the main package. Please relay this data on to our client. Next update should be in about twelve hours."

Gene used his thumbs to key the message in on the miniature keyboard. The device was amazingly easy to use. "And you say that this does Instant Messages, internet e-mail, phone text messages, has a camera, and also fully accesses the internet?"

"Yep, all that and more," responded Robert to the older man.

"Wow," was the simple answer. "Can we use this to find the MapQuest map to Mary Alice Sheridan's house."

"Sure," Robert responded. "Just use it like a desktop computer."

"Uhhh, Robert," Jeanne whispered from the seat behind the driver. "I, know where the house is."

Gene and Robert exchanged glances. Gene turned and addressed Jeanne, "How do you know where she lives?"

Jeanne looked down at her heels. "Sshe, she made me come home with her. I've been to her house a couple of times."

Gene looked back and Robert, "You see why it's dangerous to have this slut loose. A thirteen-year-old could take advantage of her. God! How easy can you get?"

"I told you I'm reconsidering her options," Robert answered. "But, that's for later. Jeanne, start describing Mary Alice's house and the immediate area around it. Then, after we exit from the interstate, you start telling me the turns."

Gene and Robert leaned back to listen to Jeanne describe the house. The home was a small two bedroom cottage on a quiet country lane. After some specific questions were asked, Jeanne replied that Mary Alice didn't have an immediate neighbor and she never heard any dogs barking in the neighborhood. The house had only a carport, no garage. Mary Alice didn't seem to have any kind of alarm system and Jeanne never saw her use a cell phone.

Robert was racking his brains for a way to take advantage of any weakness to get into the house and get the asylum's head nurse. Simple revenge and a search for justice demanded it. Robert finally gave up. It was just too difficult to get the large sports utility vehicle and it's crowd of passengers safely into her house. Robert pulled over to a convenience store and said, "Gene, take my place driving. I'm gonna ride this out as passenger." When Gene started back up, Robert started rummaging through his weapons and equipment bag.

The van headed down the quiet road toward Mary Alice's. Gene continued past the house and then suddenly downshifted the automatic transmission into it's lowest gear. The expensive vehicle lurched from forty miles an hour down to about ten miles an hour without showing any taillights. Robert opened his door and jumped out, hitting the pavement hard in a controlled roll. Gene shifted back up to drive and continued down the lane. He pulled into a quiet lane beyond the home that Mary Alice had complained to Jeanne that lovers used as a parking spot. Gene climbed into the middle bench seat and turned to Jeanne, "Look's like we have some time to kill, baby. Come over here and wake up my dick. I want to take your mouth for a little test ride."

Robert grunted from where he lay under a bush; the impact on the hard pavement had been brutal. He was now about halfway to the next house on the same side of the street as Mary Alice's home. From where he lay, it was an easy crawl to landscaping on the side of Mary Alice's home. Just as Jeanne had explained, the growth around the front door was heavy. Within minutes, Robert was lying down inside a waist-high shrub, his taser at the ready. He grinned while he was waiting for Mary Alice to get ready to drive in for her late-night shift at the asylum. "Sometimes the simplest approach is the best one," he told himself. Since she has only one way to get to her car, all I have to do is ambush her. So simple."

Back in the Mercedes, the sounds of slurping filled the luxury interior of the vehicle. Two women had rock-hard cocks buried in their gullets. Roland Heath's substantial dick had slowly come back to life, coaxed by the irresistible teasing of his nurse and lover, Maddalena Camillo. The thirty-six-year-old woman's long blonde hair covered her head and his groin in a thick carpet of sweet smelling hair. Roland's hands weakly covered her head as he laid back exhausted from his ordeal; but finally alert, and enjoying the attentions of his favorite woman. "I, … I missed you, baby," he whispered hoarsely. His voice was unused to speech, having been used only for mindless screams during his period of torment at the asylum.

Maddalena rocked back on her haunches and bent her head up to look her at her lover's face. "Oh, you're safe now. Just relax and let me get you off. Then, we'll just cuddle together for a couple of days."

Roland grinned weakly and leaned back to let his lover take charge. "Thank, God!" he exclaimed quietly. "It's finally over." Her hot lips grabbed at the helmet of his cock and she sucked wildly, causing so much stimulation, it almost hurt. Then, she plunged her lips all the way down to his wiry pubic hair. Roland groaned in ecstasy. "Oh," he moaned. "I did miss you so much. Come up here now!"

Maddalena crawled up his body and wriggled her massive tits against his naked chest. "Yes, baby," she said, "you called."

"Just hug me," he whispered. "I need you to just hug me."

In the seat in front of the storage area where Roland and Maddalena laid sideways across the vehicle's carpeted floor, Gene was gasping for breath. Roland's daughter had her face buried in his groin and the slurping sounds were even louder than Maddalena had made. Jeanne was crouched with her ass toward the console, straddling the hump in the floor from the drive shaft. Gene leaned forward and ran his hands down her back and he cupped her ass, pulling her torso up to his rock-hard cock. Jeanne wriggled her head from side to side and worked her teeth into the skin surrounding his cock. Gene was in heaven, the suctioning felt fantastic and the head of his cock had felt the penetration down into her gullet. He reached down and grabbed her head, running his fingertips through her unruly black hair. With all his strength, he yanked her up onto his cock. He spurted, hard. "Oh, God. That's so good. Suck, suck, suck." He collapsed back onto his seat.

Jeanne rolled off his cock, white jism dribbling out of the corners of her wide-open gasping mouth. She took a deep shuddering breath and coughed as some cum slipped down into her lungs. Her naked ass was still exposed. The unkempt woman looked like a worn out whore.

Silence descended on the vehicle. Jeanne coughed quietly a few times. She was a little pissed off that the dog training collar had shocked her as she involuntarily coughed the first time. Unable to stop the muscle spasm, the collar had increased the shock within milliseconds. "Fuck, that really hurt," she complained to herself.

Finally, Roland whispered, "Gene? Gene, is that you?"

Gene St. James whispered back, "Yeah, Roland. We rescued you from the asylum. We are waiting for our strong-arm man to nab the head nurse from the asylum. Steve Austin gave his man full authority to handle this situation."

"Good man." Roland replied. "No, … good men. Thank you my friend. I know you had to have set this up."

It was quiet for a few more minutes. All four occupants were reflecting the developments that brought them to this point. Jeanne was dreading the upcoming confrontation with her father. "Daddy," she whimpered quietly. "I am so sorry for what I did. Robert and Gene are already punishing me for what happened. It is my fault and I'll accept any punishment Robert metes out. I, … I, … I belong to him now. I'm his sex slave."

"Good," came the weak reply from the back. "That's what you need. Now shut up and accept your role."

A female whimper reflecting Jeanne's anguish came from the middle of the vehicle. Soft murmuring conversation followed as Roland Heath quietly quizzed his nurse as to what happened while he was a prisoner in the asylum. He was truly pissed off when he heard what his unrepentant twins had done to Maddalena and then the kidnapped teenage tennis players. He was determined that the people involved in his disappearance were to be caught and punished. Jeanne's voluntary acceptance of her slavery may have seemed a minor punishment to an outsider, but Roland accepted that this Robert character had made a wise decision. He hoped to meet the man properly and offer his heartfelt thanks.

Gene climbed over the miserably weeping fuckbunny and sat behind the wheel. He glanced at the passenger's seat to confirm that his cell phone was still ready and waiting for a text message from Robert's Sidekick II. He grinned at the afternoon and evening developments. "Jeanne is well on her way to being mine," he thought with satisfaction; he was sure that Robert knew it was best if she was left in his care. "I hope he doesn't charge too much. After all, I'm not rich like the Heaths are."

Mary Alice Sheridan whistled happily as she got ready to go to work. She was hoping that the creep that ran the place, Doctor Dustin Woods, had decided to give her a cut of the action for taking the rich dude out of circulation. Mary Alice was also looking forward to horning in on some more action from the sex maniac Heath daughter. "She is the only actual case of passive nymphomania that I have ever seen. The fact she will soon be richer than God is a real plus."

Just as she was getting ready to leave the phone rang. She turned, startled and walked back to grab the phone.

Outside, Robert cursed silently as the phone rang. He had just heard her hard heels walking down her wood floored hallway to the front door. The thumping heels clicked away toward the ringing phone.

Mary Alice listened to the voice on the phone in panic. "Dustin raped and tortured the duty nurse?" she questioned the orderly. When he replied in the affirmative, she crisply said, "Well then, I hope that you contacted the police and an ambulance." The shaken orderly stuttered and she started to loose her cool. "Then do it, now! I'll be there in forty-five minutes." She slammed the phone down and muttered, "Useless asshole."

Mary Alice Sheridan was in a hurry to get to work now. "What the hell is going on?" she thought. "Oh, fuck! What about Roland Heath? Shit, … shit!" Her pace picked up and she threw the door open, now in close to a panic.

Robert saw her turn to lock the home's door behind her. She had on a topcoat to protect herself from the cool evening air of the upstate New York mountain climate. Only her legs were targets and she was a little too far off for a good shot. He took a deep breath and waited for a better opportunity. She took several steps away from the porch and Robert silently stood up. Her body turned toward the movement to her right, exposing her white nurse's uniform through the unbuttoned coat. Robert fired directly at her upper chest. One of the needle-tipped darts struck her unprotected throat and the other penetrated her heavy cotton uniform and thickly padded bra. Each dart made sufficient skin contact for the hundreds of thousands of high-impedance volts to charge through her system.

She hit the concrete sidewalk like a hundred-pound sack of corn. Within seconds, a syringe filled with tranquilizers and muscle relaxers was jammed into her ass. Robert reached over for his bag filled with bondage gear.

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

Roland Heath sat comfortably in an overstuffed recliner in the library of his mansion. He wore a set of silk pajamas and a heavy robe. Roland looked contented but exhausted, his strength and chemical physiology would take weeks to rebuild after his ordeal. His faithful nurse had freshened up and knelt by his side, her head on his lap. Robert Morgan sat facing him, drinking a cup of steaming Colombian coffee. His newest, and very devoted slave, Jeanne Heath, knelt at his side, her head hidden between her wide-spread knees. The strong odor of stale pussy juice and male sperm floated up from her disheveled form. Gene St. James was mixing himself a strong vodka-tonic.

The twins were still trapped in the Slave Training Room under the mansion. Robert had given the four teenagers a stack of delivery pizzas and cold sodas. He had another present for them; four dildos and two bottles of sauce. They hugged him for the food and shrieked with joy at the prospect of jamming a gigantic fake cock covered with burning liniment into the evil twin's pussies. They positively erupted with giggles when he told them where the other pair of dildos went; deep into tight, dry rectums after being coated with Thai Chili Paste. Lori and Lisa hoarsely begged Robert for mercy as the heavy oaken door slammed shut again. Thin rivulets of piss and shit covered their legs. The teenagers were unable to unlock the twin's bondage and the crying women had finally let their bladder and intestines empty, coating themselves.

The latest acquisition, Mary Alice Sheridan, was still unconscious in a slave holding cell across the corridor from the still-sleeping bodyguard, Rafael Domatto. Mary Alice's fate was as of yet undetermined. What to do with the four sluts captured was the current topic of discussion.

"So," Roland Heath said, "I understand that Robert now owns the twins, their Mom, and the head nurse. As far as I am concerned, that is an acceptable situation. Once you determine your final expenses, Robert, and the extent of your vulnerability during our rescue, please let me know if you feel additional compensation is required."

Robert nodded his head. "Sir, that is very generous of you. This mission actually came out way better than I expected. But, the idea of extra compensation, unnecessary as it is, is actually a subject between Steve Austin and myself. He gave me free leeway with acquisitions and booty to get this rescue rolling quickly. I am more than content with how this has ended up." Robert took a long sip of the aromatic coffee and added, "Actually, to be honest, I have been overcompensated. Two top-quality cunts, and two decent pieces of fuck-stock, one a true fuckbunny already fully trained and ready for use, and over a million dollars in cash. True, I have some complicated manipulations left to return the teenagers and implicate the bodyguard in their capture; but, all in all, these are excellent results."

Gene sputtered and cut in, "All that is true, Robert. Don't get me wrong, I am more grateful than you can imagine. But, what about Jeanne there? I want first right of purchase and I'm not sure that I can afford her."

Robert laughed kindly, "Gene, you must be the only person besides Maddalena here that hasn't leeched loads of money from your relationship with Roland. As I see it, you and Maddalena are true friends; risking your lives to help with no thought of compensation." He dropped his hand to Jeanne Heath's dark hair and added, "Do you have any idea what this cunt is worth?"

Gene shook his head and answered, "No, what is she worth? Fifty or sixty thousand dollars?"

This time Robert really laughed, to Jeanne's amusement. "Guess I'm worth more than I thought," she reflected as she stared at the carpet between her knees.

"No Gene," Robert answered. "Guess I should run down all the options for a piece of ass like her. First off, there isn't normally much of a market for a captive of her age. After all, she's thirty-six. From that regard, she has little value in the normal mass market. So we would have to decide her placement, much of which depends on her attitude."

"If she is guilty of real wrongdoing, or if her attitude is off, then we can take a classy, white whore like her and easily get between sixty thousand and one hundred-fifty thousand dollars, depending on where we focus our sales. She'd be fully booked up eighteen hours a day in a mining camp whorehouse, earning about ten dollars a fuck, four fucks an hour, eighteen hours a day. Believe it or not, that's well over two hundred-fifty thousand dollars a year. Of course, her life expectancy would only be two to three years at that pace and with the rampant disease in third-world nations. On the other hand, a more conventional whorehouse could get a lot more money out of her hide, at a more leisurely pace. In that case, she'd last much longer, probably five to six years. In either case, the girls are eventually worn out and sold off to street pimps. Sometimes really sick bastards eventually buy them for torture and snuff scenes."

"Really unique girls, especially pretty younger ones, go from a minimum of one hundred-seventy thousand a pop to two hundred-fifty thousand dollars. These girls we usually train with a specialty and find an owner to match. With those girls, hard training breaks them to whatever degree of compliability is necessary." Robert paused to catch his breath and grin over at Gene who was becoming increasingly agitated. "Now, Gene. Jeanne is a special case. She is a true nymphomaniac with what society would normally consider an unhealthy mania to act as a submissive. On top of that, she is the most focused, talented, and energetic fuck I have every encountered. All this is wrapped up in a package that doesn't need any personality molding. She is just naturally an easy fuck. I can easily get around half a million dollars for her. She could age into a gorgeous trophy that any rich man would love to have. Plus, unlike most sex slaves, she can be shown off to the world safely because it is truly what she wants to have happen to her. No, Gene, her papers are worth more than an order of magnitude more than fifty thousand dollars."

Gene sagged down in his chair in defeat. He knew he could never get that kind of money.

Roland raised his hand to intercede but Robert waved to him to wait. "Gene, I have developed a talent for evaluating and placing livestock in the right home with the appropriate owner. My problem is that I want to keep Jeanne Heath for myself."

Gene stiffened. He knew that no good would come of this line of discussion.

"Yet," Robert continued, "I am too overcommitted to properly assume the Master-Slave relationship that this bitch needs. That is why I am willing to consider placement of this pet with you, … under certain conditions."

Gene raised his head up in excitement. "Yes, of course," he babbled, "whatever you think is right."

"Actually, it's fairly complicated and I will need Roland to also agree," Robert hastened to add. "My demands are based upon a hastily conceived notion of what this nymphomaniac slut needs. Her father clearly understands his daughter best of anyone living."

Roland had a bemused expression on his face. He nodded for Robert to continue.

"First, we need to arrange for her to legally change her name. I propose something simple like 'Barbie Dawl', 'Connie Lingus', 'Pussy Willow', 'Pussy Kat,' 'Gorgeous Snatch', or "Luscious Licker." You get the idea. That is the mandatory first step in her dissociation from the Heath family. Next, I require that Roland officially change his will so that nothing goes to the twins, that have apparently run away from home, or the totally unreliable daughter who is clearly not responsible for her actions. What you do with your money is none of my concern Roland. However, I want every penny she owns, all her jewelry, every identification card, every credit card, every item of clothing, anything of value donated to a humanitarian organization. She has to become a penniless cunt with no education or job skills, completely at the mercy, control, and love or hate, of her owner."

When Robert paused to take a deep breath and collect his thoughts, Jeanne crept closer to him and pressed her lips against his stocking-clad feet just above his shoes. Her pussy was already rippling in need. She was panting a little. All this discussion of her as a penniless, identity-less whore and nymphomaniac were triggering strong responses of horniness.

Robert continued with, "Next, Gene, she has to submit herself as a lifetime slave. She will have to formally sell herself to me, for life and to willingly submit for marking as a slave, a piece of livestock for me to own and control. You would then sign an annual lease where you rent her body from me."

He stopped talking and looked around the room. Everyone stared at him raptly. "OK, no comments? Well, then next item is the branding that her bitch children did on Maddalena with the Heath Family Slave Symbol after they tortured her. I would accept a three inch square tattoo of the family logo prominently placed on her right ass cheek as an acceptable approximation of the House brand."

Another deep breath and then he continued again, "The next part is more difficult. I want to have one of my doctors implant a device deep in her cervix. It will be a combination GPS sensor and punishment triggering device. My partner's electronic geniuses have discovered a way to place a pickup antenna with the unit that will allow for remotely setting and controlling the unit as well as charging the internal batteries from an external charging loop. If you bury the loop in a heavy, steel-frame bed, for example, then the whole unit can charge while the slut is sleeping each night. The beauty of this particular unit is that it will also communicate with a smaller version of the dog-training collar. My favorite setting is for the GPS unit to keep her silent at all times except when she is within a few feet of your unit which is easily hidden in a ring or bracelet. This way, she can never speak out of turn and never escape. In fact, you can set the unit to stun increasingly if she creeps away from your presence, her charger, or whatever you program into the unit. If you use a bracelet and a setting of fifteen feet, she'd have to follow you like an obedient dog, even into the men's room. Another nice option is to set a receiver welded to the bed to be the replacement for your bracelet during, say, afternoon golf sessions. Then she would have to wait, silently and obediently in the bedroom, effectively trapped and waiting for your return."

Gene and Roland were getting excited with the possibilities of Robert's proposals. Maddalena slapped at Gene's Heath's rising hardon and snapped, "Look, I love you; but what he is talking about is not for me. I believe in a lot more equal footing in a relationship. If you want a fuck slut, Roland, then go ahead and buy that bimbo clinic nurse from Robert, pay for some extreme body modifications to fully bimboize her, and train her to be like Jeanne, a compliant little slut puppy whore. I think you're man enough to have room for me in your life along with a hobby like slut training."

All three men stared at Maddalena with wide-open jaws. Her comments had taken them by complete surprise. A sudden squeal of excitement distracted all four free adults in the room. Jeanne had rolled over on her side and was exploding in orgasm. Her hands were buried between her legs, feverously manipulating her uncovered black-haired pussy.

Maddalena dryly said, "Robert Morgan, you are an obvious genius for matching up a slut with the right life. I applaud your concern for her and think Gene should buy her and do exactly as you propose. Killing her or putting her in a whorehouse for life would accomplish little."

Silence descended on the room. Everyone had a lot to think about.

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

In consultation with Steve Austin, they had made few changes to Robert's original plan of the surgeries for Jeanne and Mary Alice. Steve knew a reliable doctor just outside New York City who would do everything Robert proposed and more. Surprisingly, Jeanne fully endorsed Robert's plan and submitted eagerly, even offering up details for surgical modification to make her and Mary Alice into true bimbos. She spoke of fine-tuning their bone structure to highlight their aristocratic appearance while increasing their bust sizes and decreasing their waistlines. With their long, slender builds, they would look like walking versions of the Barbie Doll. The plastic surgeon had already set up temporary residence in the underground facility and had set up a fully equipped operating theater.

The night before Robert Morgan handed over ownership of the captured slut, Jeanne Heath had crawled naked to his bed. Her body shone from the scented oils she had rubbed on her body following a long soak in a tub. Robert breathed in her odor as she climbed up his naked form, rubbing her drooling cunt up his leg, trailing a damp line of pussy slime from his knee to his crotch.

"Thank you," she breathed huskily into his ear. "A lesser man would have killed me or doomed me to whoring on the streets. This way, you actually make me do what my soul needs anyway. Freedom from poor choices and the chance to hurt others." She became silent and ran the tip of her tongue down to his bulging pectorals. Her brilliant white teeth nipped gently at his nipples and she sucked them into her mouth. Jeanne's hands were already cupping his swollen ball sacks under his cock which lurched as blood flowed in, filling the expanding flesh with blood. The suctioning lips sought the side of his neck, her breath rasping quietly through her nose as her breathing increased in excitement.

Robert ran a hand down her smooth side and wormed his fingers under her belly toward her groin. "Her pussy is already dripping wet," he wondered. "Ahhh, nice, the slut followed directions perfectly. Her slick cunt mound is now hair free. This bitch is a perfect sex machine. No need for foreplay, just sink right in." He thrust three fingers of his hand deep into her slimy cunt, lifting her hips up with the force of his penetration. Her throaty groaning and hip gyrations spoke of her need. Robert reluctantly pulled his hand free of her grasping pussy and he reached down to grab a leg behind her knee. With a violent pull and then push, her lower body first moved up and then flipped over, Robert now between her legs and his face looking down on her glazed expression. "She's already zoning out. The horny slut!" His pussy slime covered hand was still holding her leg behind the knee. He pulled up once again, bending her body in half, one knee by her ear, pussy wide-open just inches from his bobbing cock. The questing knob easily found her cleft and his two-hundred-five pound frame rested all its weight behind the spike sliding into her guts like a relentless spear.

"Eiii," she hissed. "Yesss, … yes that's it."

Robert rolled her hips slightly to the side and thrust deep into her hot core. The leg he continued to control was now pointed straight up to the ceiling, her other leg now centered under his ass cheeks. His thrusts were now penetrating her deeply from a twisted, side position. Robert's strong grip slipped down to her upper thigh and he used both hands on the meaty flesh to draw her more deeply onto his shaft. From his current position, it was easy to grab jiggling titties, a raised butt cheek, or delve deeply into her sensitive anus with a finger or two. Before he changed positions, Robert Morgan did all three. He first leaned onto her leg, spaying her legs even wider apart so that he had full access to both tight breasts. He cupped, caressed, pinched, and pulled at her mounds before letting his hands slide down her sides and under her sideways-turned hips. One hand covered her trim belly while the other cupped a full ass cheek.

By this time, Jeanne had at least two earth-shattering orgasms by Robert's estimation. The tight muscle fluttering he felt around his nine-inch bludgeon were mirrored in rippling across her taut belly. At the same time, Jeanne's eyes had rolled back in her head and a deep red flush had spread across her jiggling breasts. "Guess she's multi-orgasmic," he thought sarcastically. "As if there was every any doubt that this woman had uncontrolled orgasms."

Robert glanced down at her thick pussy lips as they rolled up and down his cock as he stirred her insides. A thick creamy coating was frothing up on his pubic hairs from her pussy juices. He slipped his left hand down to cup her pubic mound beside his plunging dick and he slipped a thump down to her clit. Her back arched instantly and the voracious pussy clamped down hard on his dick. "She's cumming again," he wondered, "the slut."

"It's time to change positions for something different," he muttered aloud to Jeanne and then he lightly slapped her ass. His stiff cock popped out with an audible pop. "Get up on your knees you little cock hound." He commanded quietly.

He knelt on the bed and looked at her talented gash. "Your pussy is positively gushing," he said with a grin. Robert picked up the edge of a sheet and whipped his slimy, latex-covered dick. That done, he set the fat knob of his cock against her fat lips and he pushed in, deeply. "Ahhh," he moaned. "That is a fine piece of pussy."

Jeanne Heath grinned at the compliments and wriggled her ass around like a happy puppy, rolling his cock around the inside walls of her vagina. "I thought you might enjoy a good night of sex before you sell me off to Gene in the morning. I will miss that big cock of yours though. Yesss, just keep doing that."

Robert grinned at the tight clamping of her pussy muscles as she spoke of being sold off. He rolled his cock around her tight pussy and leaned in hard to fully seat himself. She groaned in appreciation. He redoubled his efforts to sink his body into her vagina. Sweat started to bead on his brow from the effort of his fucking. Pleased at the pleasurable feelings he was getting from his sex toy, he set himself to make the fuck long and satisfying. Jeanne moaned and wriggled under his efforts.

After Robert finally spurted into his condom, he rolled over onto his back, spent and content to let Jeanne sleep on the bed's wet spot. "One advantage of fucking slaves," he thought to himself. "Oh, and obviously the sex is better with an obedient little toy," he added. Jeanne purred and wriggled up against him. He fell asleep and slept deeply.

--- To Be Continued ---

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

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East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 35 – Double Cross Turnabout (or The Ends Justify the Means)

Robert Morgan and Gene St. James were bringing their adventurous rescue mission to a close. Roland Heath, the rich industrialist, retired slaver, and long-time friend of Steve Austin, had been rescued from the clutches of his daughter and two granddaughters. The nymphomaniac daughter, Jeanne Heath, had been captured and after Robert broke her in sexually, been leased as a common slut to Gene St. James, Roland's loyal Executive Secretary. She whole-heartedly agreed to be sold as a lowly piece of livestock; her low annual rental fee of only forty-five dollars (after her first year's rent of one hundred twenty-five dollars) and her mandatory conversion to a bimbo had her writhing in nearly continuous orgasms. Mary Alice Sheridan, the sadistic former Head Nurse at the asylum where Roland had been held, would undergo the exact same changes as Jeanne. Mary Alice was not been asked her opinion in her conversion to a fucktoy. The unwilling captive was purchased by Roland Heath himself for four hundred thousand dollars; a huge sum, but Roland felt he was buying quality merchandise and giving Robert a tip for a job well done.

Roland Heath's twenty-one year-old granddaughters, Lori and Lisa, were now the property of Robert Morgan, actually Aaron Clarke – partner to Steve Austin and sole owner of East Coast Slavers' Organization. They faced an uncertain future; Aaron had some ideas he was considering. He had recently acquired a set of beautiful blonde sisters, Anna (31) and Becky Sawyer (37), who were undergoing surgeries to become identical twins and a matched set of Ponygirls. Aaron was thinking that Lisa and Lori, two already identical black-haired twins would make a fantastic set beside the blond Anna and Becky. The concept was to create matched sets of Ponygirls. He grinned at the idea. He shook off the daydreams and refocused himself as Robert Morgan, the identity that he used while conducting illegal missions in the United States.

Roland Heath was full of remorse that he and his wife had failed with their child and her two daughters. Jeanne had grown into a parasitic slut and her illegitimate twin daughters grew up into haughty bitches, convinced they were superior and deserved special attention. A compassionate man, and a good businessman, he had decided it was time to cut all his ties with the three women. He knew that his wife, Sharon, would have also agreed that they had done all they could. The thirty-nine-year-old and her twenty-one-year-old daughters had chosen their own destinies, and the corresponding penalties for their actions.

Jeanne Heath's accomplice, Doctor Dustin Woods, was now in jail, pending charges of abduction, assault, rape, sodomy, and attempted murder. Robert Morgan had orchestrated a situation where the supposedly depressed doctor had made himself a eunuch after torturing a facility nurse in the same shock therapy room he had nearly killed Roland Heath in. Dustin faced the loss of his medical license, millions of dollars in legal costs and potential losses in civil lawsuits, and a significant jail term. The other male involved in the children's evil scheme, Rafael Domatto, was still unconscious in the dungeons below the estate. He would soon be implicated in the kidnapping of the four teenage tennis players Amy Teele (15), Joyce Gordon (16), Loretta Cooper (17), and Idy Constance (17).

Robert remembered Jeanne Heath's goodbye pout as she kissed him and then went to kneel down beside her new owner, Gene St. James. Gene had taken charge of his new slave and led her off for bathing and grooming, like any owner would do with a pampered pet. Robert had gone down into the dungeons with Maddalena Camillo to show her the layout and introduce her to the captive nurse, Mary Alice Sheridan. Mary Alice was lucky, she was still sleeping off the double dose of amnesia-producing drug cocktail. Otherwise, the expression on Maddalena's face clearly showed that she would have preferred to start Mary Alice's first punishment session as a sex slave.

Rafael Domatto was sleeping in a cell across the corridor from Mary Alice's sleeping form. Maddalena whistled in appreciation as she ran her hand down his muscular form. "The boys in prison are gonna love this blonde boy toy," she said with a smirk.

Their next stop was to check on the twins and her former prisoners. When they opened the door, four happy and squealing teenagers surrounded them. The girls understood that they had to be protected from knowing where they had been kept prisoner. Robert put a soft blindfold on Amy Teele, the youngest of the four girls and the first he had originally released the night he and Gene acquired the twins. The fifteen year old blonde giggled when he first touched her. Maddalena walked over and took one of Amy's hands to begin leading a line of girls out of the dungeons. Joyce Gordon and Loretta Cooper also acted silly when their turn came. As each of these nubile teens had been blindfolded, Robert took a hand and gave it to the girl ahead of her in the chain. Idy Constance, the cheeky seventeen year old hadn't giggled, instead, she pretended to develop a painful muscle cramp in her calf. She collapsed to her tiny butt and moaned, "Owww! That really hurts. I'm so sorry, don't let me hold everyone up. Please take the others up for their showers and dinner. I have to sit for a few minutes."

Maddalena gave Robert a knowing look. Robert raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if to say, "What did I do?" She turned and led her short coffle of teens down the corridor toward the main house.

When Loretta stepped hesitantly out into the corridor, led on by Joyce, Amy, and Maddalena, Idy rolled over onto her side and propped herself up by an elbow. "Come here," she mumbled, "my calf is killing me." "Rub it please," she added coyly.

Robert sat down beside her and pulled her leg onto his lap. "You know this is not a very convincing act?" Robert said. "Do you have any idea what kind of danger you are in, alone with a man that has defeated your captors?" he added menacingly.

She stuck her tongue out and smugly added, "Of course I do, silly. But, I'm a great judge of character and I knew you were rescuing us when I first heard your voice whispering to Amy. Then I recognized the sound of you stealing some tongue action as you took out those yucky ballgags." Then she pouted, "I was naked and all you did was kiss me and fondle my hip. I felt your hardon. Why didn't you take a little more advantage while we were blindfolded?"

Robert smiled and pulled out the last blindfold. "Why don't you find out?" he asked teasingly. Robert was pretty certain he had called the little minx's bluff.

The black-haired vixen pulled back before he could wrap the blindfold around her head. Then, she surprised him and grabbed the blindfold for herself. "Either I blindfold you and steal a few kisses, or I'll testify that you raped me. Since I'm not a virgin, they'll believe me."

"I rescue you and this is the thanks I get?" Robert stuttered in surprise.

She grinned back at him and whispered, "Why not? After all, it will only cost you a kiss or two to let me have control. What harm can it do?"

Robert nodded and said, "OK, you win. But, only for a few minutes. And, … you better behave yourself. Enjoy your little fun, but keep it under control."

Robert turned his head away so that she could place the blindfold over his head. She fumbled with the soft cloth and secured the tie behind his head. The room became quiet and Robert peered blindly about to find Idy.

She giggled beside him and said, "Nice isn't it? You have to give me some kisses, but it's on my terms. I want to watch you for a few minutes before we start."

Robert heard her moving softly around the chamber. His heightened senses also heard the gentle clink of Lori and Lisa Heath's chains as they hung blindfolded and gagged. While the teens were excitedly meeting Maddalena, Robert had removed the tortured livestock's cotton headsacks and securely ballgagged them. Earlier, the teens had free rein to torture the twins over the previous day, but Robert had covered the slaves with locking headsacks to keep them from choking to death on more stringent ballgags. That was also the reason that the twins had been left securely padlocked in their bondage; so the teens couldn't inadvertently release the doomed captives.

Idy blew her warm, fragrant breath in his ear. Robert jerked away in surprise. Next her voice whispered in a begging tone, "Please take your shirt off. I want to see your big muscular chest."

Even in the cool air of the dungeon, Robert was sweating from the sexual tension and concern about the little vixen's sexual advances. "No way, little girl! This is getting way out of hand. I think I'll end this now." Robert's hands moved toward his blindfold when his world exploded in agony and his overloaded optic nerves told him he'd been blinded by the sun.

Awakening was a very painful thing for Robert. He felt disoriented and weaker than he could imagine. His joints hurt as if someone had stretched him out on a medieval torture rack. His chest hairs were being soothed by a cool and gentle hand, tenderly rubbing across pectorals and down to his ribbed stomach muscles. Despite the disorientation, the touches were wonderful; they relaxed him and distracted him from his extreme exhaustion and lack of muscle control. Robert was content to just lay still and slowly come back awake.

"Hmmm," he mumbled, "that's nice."

His body responded naturally, his long, limp cock started to gently bob about as rich blood flowed into the love muscle. Warm lips kissed around his cock and then engulfed his quickly engorging sex. "Hmmm, that Jeanne Heath knows how to wake a man," he thought as he felt his cock reach it's fully erect size. He wriggled his hips slightly and frowned. "Wait, is my ass on a cold gritty floor?" he wondered. That's when he realized he was not in bed. He started to lurch up strongly and he realized that he was chained down and blindfolded. "What the fuck," he yelled. "Oh, shit! Idy, Idy, is that you?" he added in dismay.

A warm and cuddly shape slid up his torso and nipped at his neck with her teeth. "Yes, lover," she purred, "it is Idy. That wasn't nice, you tried to renege on our deal."

Robert rolled about trying to escape. Idy easily rode his struggling form, pushing her pelvis against his. "Shhh," she whispered in his ear, "I've cuffed you and chained your wrists and ankles to strong steel loops set in the dungeon floor. Everything is locked up nice and tight, using your own gear. Thank you so much for bringing your bag full of toys to the dungeon."

"WWhat the fuck are you doing?" Robert demanded.

Idy reached down with both hands and grabbed a hanging testicle in each hand. She gently twisted them and said, "Shut up. I'm in charge." "Besides," she purred, "you gave me free rein when you challenged me to blindfold you and to take charge." Her voice changed a little and she added reassuringly, "And, … believe me, it's my turn to be in charge. Now, cooperate or I'll hurt these nice big balls and then zap you again with your taser."

Robert was stunned into silence. "Oh, fuck me!" he thought, "The conniving little bitch took my taser out of my own vest while she distracted me. What a chump I am! Hopefully I can get out of this unscathed."

Idy rolled off his blindfolded, naked form. Robert again strained his hearing and he heard the soft rustle of clothes. "Oh, no," he muttered, "you better not be taking your clothes off."

In response, something warm and wispy draped itself over his face. In Robert's next inhaled breath, he identified what it was with certainty. It was the tiny skirt that Idy had worn, still warm from the seductress' seventeen-year-old body and redolent with her aroma. He heard a giggle and then a voice whispered, "Consider those a taste of what's to come. Oh, and big boy, … I don't want any more yelling or I'll find one of those awful ball things to stick in your mouth." Her lips returned to his dick. Robert was astounded that his cock had remained rock-hard even while he tried to escape. As her body clambered over his to straddle him on all fours, she flipped her hair forward to tease its way across his chest.

Idy took a deep breath to regain control of her excited heart and to stop her panting. She was so excited at the chance to play with this big stud of a man. The instant she first heard his voice while she hung helpless and naked in the dark, she wanted him to ravage her. She had thought of nothing else since her rescue; only able to daydream about caresses, kisses, and … and sex. Her hand slipped down to his trim, well-muscled belly and she marveled at his strength. A flash of heat hit her chest and face when she looked down at his huge, angry-looking cock. "My God!" she exclaimed, "I never imagined that a dick could be so large."

Idy was a virgin. She had lied to Robert about already being sexually active. Her experience with dicks was limited to squeezing a few boy-pricks through their owners' pants, and only hurriedly while in the back of a car. She never realized how velvety and soft the skin of a rock-hard cock could be. She felt her tiny pussy entrance with her fingertips and wondered that such a huge shaft could fit inside her petite body. Idy Constance maneuvered her hips around to line up her outer labia with the monstrous cock head that she held in her hands. She wriggled about a little and tried to encourage the massive cock's head to start its way into her cunt.

Robert felt the young woman try to get his plum-sized cock head into her pussy. He moaned and said, "What about putting a condom on me? I have some in my bag."

"No way, stud. I wanna feel every bit of that thing au natural as it pounds in and out of my cunt," she said with some satisfaction, and a sense of womanly experience at the use of such naughty words.

"Bbut, what about birth control, or … sexually transmitted diseases?" Robert stuttered.

"Ahhh," Idy moaned when the cockhead bumped against her opening and refused to enter. She reached down with both hands to pull her pussy lips apart, exposing her inner core. The cock was once again lined up and she sunk down hard. "Ouch," she muttered when the head once again stopped short of penetrating her pussy.

"Get a lubricated condom from my bag, … It'll help a lot," Robert offered.

"Shhh," Idy said. "I told you I want the real thing. Besides, I'm a good judge of character. Your trying to use a condom proves what I was thinking, that you're a good man. Besides, my family doctor will give me the morning after rape drug to keep me from becoming pregnant from my rapist." She giggled and then panted as she tried to fit the cock in her tight, virginal pussy again.

"Then at least spit on the head to help it get in. I wouldn't want to split you wide open," he grunted back. The sensation of her bumping against his cock felt a little too good.

Idy listened to this advice, leaning back on her heels in order to dribble a fat wad of spittle directly on the big cock's head. She also spit on her fingertips and rubbed the dampness on her own pussy lips. She tried again, setting the cock against her spread-open pussy, and pushing down. The head popped through and became stuck when the stretched lips closed on the other side of the fat cock's helmet. "Ungh," she grunted.

"Idy, gently wiggle about slowly and let your snatch lube up my dick. Don't push it deeper until you get much wetter. Ahhhh! Ohhh, shit! Girl you are the tightest thing I've ever felt. Yess!"

Idy felt like she was going to rip somewhere. "This thing feels like a baseball bat. How the devil do girls take this thing?" she questioned aloud. "God, you're big!" she squealed excitedly. Finally, she decided that the only way to get the gigantic cock into her was to push her weight down hard. She did, and the pole-like cock sunk at least two more inches before thumping into her hymen.

Both Robert and Idy were surprised. Idy was surprised at the relatively pain-free entry, even though it felt like she was sitting on fence post. Robert was shocked when his dick bottomed out against her virginal love barrier.

"Wwhat the fuck! Off! Off! Get off me! You're a virgin, you little ass!" Robert exclaimed. He twisted his body to and fro, attempting to shake off the little girl that was soon to be a woman. His efforts were doomed. The lithe young thing easily balanced herself on her knees and hands.

The only result of Robert's wild gyrations was that his fat knob twirled around and around Idy's pussy lips, encouraging the complete lubrication of the top of his dick from her now copious flow. After a particularly rough hip movement, Robert succeeded in making Idy into a woman. His cock broke through her tough hymen and sunk a good four inches deep.

Idy Constance gasped as her maiden's shield broke, allowing the cock to bludgeon its way inside. She tensed from the initial pain and then relaxed. The loosening of her unused pussy muscles allowed his dick to worm its way in another inch, where it became stuck when the fat walls of the fuck tube ran out of feminine lubrication and her inner vaginal walls stuck to Robert's dick.

The breath whooshed out of Robert Morgan's lungs as the extent of what just occurred went through his mind. The slaver's conscience would not allow him to accept that he had just deflowered an innocent child. By the time he acknowledged that it was not his doing, Idy was already panting and slobbering above his chest as she tried to lift and lower herself by miniscule amounts. She instinctively knew that small movements would loosen her muscles and lubricate the gigantic pole up her cunt. At one point she paused, reached down to measure how much was still out of her body, and gasped at her finding. "He's only a little over half way in," she wondered to herself. She whimpered as she rose till the cut under the helmet of the cock caught on her thinly stretched labia. "I think I'm stuck on him," she cried to herself. "It's like an arrowhead, not coming out without ripping flesh!"

Robert was now resigned to his fate. Technically, he had already committed rape on the slender girl and whatever happened next should not change the legal perspective or his guilt. "If sex is what she wants, then sex is what she will get. At least, if I have anything to do with the decisions." He told himself. Robert could tell that he wasn't in but halfway. He decided to change that by lunging upward with all his strength.

Idy felt the man lunge up at her like a demon. The man's spear of a cock hit her with stunning force and she felt his pubic bone thump into her. "Ohhhh, God!" she screamed in ecstasy. "What a cock! What a fuck!"

Robert achieved some satisfaction in being the one to bury his cock fully in the tightest pussy that he had ever experienced. He grunted when their grating pubic bones signaled that she was skewered as much as she could ever get to be. Robert bucked again like a bull gone wild and her light body was thrown up into the air, only to fall back onto his horse-cock, again burying his monster of a dick in her vagina.

"Eiii," she shrieked as she flew upward four inches and then she followed up with a deep grunt when she was re-impaled on the monster cock. Robert thrust upward again with all his strength. The lightweight teen flew upward again, this time nearly six inches. When she fell back down, the nine inch bar of flesh solidly wedged itself in, her wispy pubic hair in full contact with his. She slumped down on his chest from the exertion of getting his gigantic dick inside her tiny pussy; her legs now clasped around his legs.

The feeling of her body wrapped around his cock was indescribable; the tight pussy had nearly sucked the jism right out of his dick. Robert tried to catch his breath and regain control of his spasming cock. Then her pert little titties poked into his pectorals as she collapsed onto his chest. Idy's long black hair covered Robert's head and he snorted to get the irritating hair away from his nose and mouth. His hips twisted involuntarily; he had to fuck this pussy, not matter what his conscience told him. No matter how he flexed his hips, his cock's super-tight fit only dragged her body from side to side.

"Well," he hissed in her ear. "You're a woman now. So, … get up and fuck me. That is, if you can get that tight pussy to let go of my dick enough so that we can actually fuck.

Idy whimpered in need. She was aroused beyond belief. Her pussy burned from sexual need and itched from the massive dick's thrusts into her inner core. Her vaginal muscles flexed and she felt the cock lurch within her. "Oh, it feels so good! Your dick is amazing," she marveled aloud.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, "I don't even know your name. Ahhh, yes; I think you just bottomed out in me. You are pushing against something deep inside me."

"Yesss, … yess, … yes. I just hit your cervix. Your inner muscles are rippling across my dick like a truck rolling across it," Robert whispered back.

"Uhhh, ohhh, how nice. I don't have a name to call you while we screw, … it's so weird. Ohhh, it's making funny noises." The young woman had started to lift up a little off his hard love muscle and the vacuum suction made a slurping sound. Embarrassed, she dropped her butt back down, re-impaling herself. "Uffff," she gasped. "Maybe you are too big for me?"

"No, you're already fucking me. Don't try and lift off, just gently twirl your hips in small circles and remember to grind your clit against me. Yesss, roll your hips forward and back, just like that. That is good sex, and you'll get yourself used to my size. Ohhh, that's better for me, does it feel good for you?"

Idy moaned lustily as the dick rolled around her vagina, stimulating her insides. "Oh, yes," she hissed, "this is worth it for my first sex. Ohhh! My mystery lover is the best! Ahhh." Idy exploded in climax, her hips slowing from wild gyrations to a few uncontrolled wriggles. She fell forward again onto his chest, tears of happiness running down her face to splash on Robert's chin and neck.

Robert grinned; he had maintained his control during the tightest fuck of his life and still hadn't spurted into her luscious womb. The weakly moving woman kept his dick primed as he imagined her lithe form riding his cock.

Idy Constance stirred a little more and a deep 'ohhhh' escaped her lips. "That was worth it my mysterious savior," she whispered in his ear. She wiggled and added, "Wow! You're still hard. Maybe we can do more screwing?"

Robert whispered, "Idy, I had to fight hard to last without cumming. Let me up so I can finish this." With that last statement, Robert rolled his hips up, shifting the impaled teen's hips around.

"Hmmm," cooed Idy, "I'd like that. Maybe we can try some other positions." She gingerly raised herself off his rock-hard shaft and an 'ohhfff' escaped her mouth as the stiff dick bobbled it's way across her sore pussy lips. She picked her skirt off his lower face and reached to undo his blindfold, hesitated for long seconds, and then tugged it off his face.

Idy leaned so her face was close to the man she'd just tricked into sex. "I told you I'm a good judge of character, she said before she nipped his ear painfully between her sharp incisors. "Do you consider yourself a man of honor?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," Robert answered.

"Good!' she said decisively, "Then I can trust you if I unchain you?"

"Of course," Robert responded with a straight face. "I told you I'm eager to finish this," and he pointed his chin down to his throbbing cock for emphasis.

"Yesss," whispered Idy in a long drawn out hiss. "You'd 'finish this.' Hmmm, … to me, … that could mean you're eager to get me on my back and screw me silly, just like I want. Or, … maybe, … it could mean you're eager to punish me for what I started and then just put your nice hard dick away for use on some older woman."

Robert kept his face stoic. "The minx saw through me," he moaned to himself. "I was going to tie her up and hand spank that tight little ass till she screamed for forgiveness. Shit, shit, shit!"

Idy leaned down to coo into his ear again, "In whole sentences, tell me what I want to hear and then promise it is true."

With a deep breath, Robert started, "OK, you win. I will not spank or physically punish you for what you did. I will spurt my cum deep into your body and make sure that you orgasm over and over. I will not treat you like an oversexed, underage, teen; instead, I will treat you the same as my favorite women. Once I start this next round of sex, nothing will make me stop. This I promise."

Idy fell across his trapped body and wriggled about like an eel. "Yes," she whispered, "I have won." She squeezed his cock to reassure herself that it was all real. "But," she hesitated, "do you double promise not to spank or hurt me in punishment?"

A happy grin spread across Robert's face as he simply responded, "Yes, I promise."

Robert sat up and rubbed his wrists and ankles to sooth his chaffed skin. The cuffs had all been too loose for the leather linings to fully protect his skin from rubbing while he struggled to escape. He glanced over at Idy, crouched with some fear on her face, her puffy labia clearly displayed between her naked thighs.

Idy blushed as she figured out where his eyes were focused. The heavily muscled man smoothly rolled over and gently tugged her down beside him where he gave her a deep, passionate kiss. She felt herself melt in his arms and she groaned in arousal when one of his strong hands covered an ass cheek and squeezed. Her breast was captured by the other hand and her entire body spun as he quickly rolled atop her slender form. "The hands feel so good," she told herself. Aloud she added a moan of lust. The hand on her ass slid to her tummy and after a quick caress, slipped to between her legs. She jerked when the man teasingly traced a path around her vaginal lips. "Eiii," she moaned and writhed as a thumb and forefinger captured her sensitive clit. Her hips humped up blindly, questing for a cock as his fingers danced around her pussy and clit. "Yes," she cried, "this is what I wanted. Oh, … yes."

Robert captured one of the teen's perky tits between his teeth and added the extra stimulation of sucking and biting swollen titties to the almost overwhelming sensations coming from her pussy.

"Ohhh, yesss," she howled as she came; head back and gasping mouth wide open. The teens wildly flopping body almost threw Robert off.

Before the teen could finish her quaking spasms, Robert pulled back between her legs and reached down to place a hand under each ass cheek. With a strong tug, the teen's dripping snatch was pulled up to his lips, arching her back across his knees. Robert buried his face in the musky pussy, thankful that he hadn't yet dumped his creamy jism inside. He pinched her clit between his teeth to get her attention and then he plunged his tongue as far as he could into her slimy cunt. His lips mated around her sex's lips and he suctioned, hard, while he tongue fucked the newly made woman. Sensing that she was starting to respond, Robert pulled his cunt butter-coated face up to her hooded clit and focused his oral skills to that bundle of sexual nerves. One hand surreptitiously crept from holding a taut ass to between her sparsely forested pussy. Robert curled all four fingers of his right hand around his thump and jammed into her stretched pussy hard enough to raise her hips. He rocked his hand around while he applied more pressure from the tip of his tongue against her rubbery nubbin of a clit. Idy's thighs spasmed around his ears as she once again exploded in an orgasm. Her panting breathing increased as she rode the waves of the next long, drawn out climax.

Robert counted the orgasms; "One she earned on her own, and two that I took the lead on." Idy was in the hands of a master, he was ready for her next round of sex before her breathing returned to normal. His right hand stood at the ready, fingers still curled tight around his thumb. The leading fingertips started to worm their way into Idy's hot sex box. Robert rolled his wrist about, rolling his first three fingers about. When Idy's pussy awakened her from her sexual overload, Robert plunged his hand in deeper, allowing his little finger to join the three digits already inside her pussy. By Robert's estimation, his four cupped fingers were still not stretching her pussy any more than his cock had. The lubrication of her pussy, increased and pussy lube ran down his fingers to his knuckles. Robert turned his attention once again to her clit, flicking the super sensitized flesh with the tip of his tongue. He coordinated his lip and wrist actions, easily milking a third orgasm from the now limp and damp-haired teen.

This time Idy whimpered a little as Robert started moving the fingers deep in her pussy. She weakly whispered, "Stop, please, give me time to get my breath."

"Shhh," Robert whispered back. "I haven't spurted inside you yet. Remember I promised that I wouldn't stop before I did just that."

"Ohhh, God!" she moaned limply. "You rat. You're trying to screw me to death."

Robert didn't make any verbal reply. Instead, he moved his questing lips to cover his slimy fingers, moving his tongue into her stretched out pussy as he withdrew the fingers. The elevated position of her body during his sloppy pussy eating had allowed cunt lube and saliva to dribble down from her cute little pussy to her even smaller ass grommet. Her virgin ass was the goal of his searching fingers. He started the slimy tip of his middle finger past her anal sphincter. It was easy going for one wet fingertip and her saturated asshole.

Idy jumped as his fingertip penetrated her ass. "Yesss, that feels good. Ohhh, that's nasty; you're fingering my butt."

Robert wriggled his fingertip in her ass and rolled his tongue around her pussy walls, increasing the stimulation. He was rewarded with an answering moan of appreciation and she attempted to move her hips back on his fingers. Robert responded by pushing harder and three fingers disappeared to the ends of their first joints past her slowly stretching ass grommet. His searching tongue kept moving excess pussy lube out of her pussy and pushing it down toward her asshole. Minute by minute, his fingers wormed their way deeper and deeper into the pink depths of her rectum.

Idy was delirious with passion. She was fully aware that she had just survived four gut wrenching orgasms. Three at the masterful hands of this sexual magician. Her breathing was ragged and she was unable to control her limbs. The searing sensations of his tongue and fingers were enough to make her go mad. "You, … you, … you gotta fuck me now. Please spurt in me so I can rest," she demanded. "Ohhh God!" she wailed as another orgasm hit like an avalanche.

Robert judged that she was pliable enough now for his last act in her little ploy to get sex from him. He eased her butt down to the rough stone floor and bent her knees back toward her ears. Only a teen athlete could flex easily the way he contorted her form. Robert set her knees down hard on the pavement beside her ears and set his throbbing cock at her pussy. The teen's tight pussy and swollen lips were perfectly aligned to swallow his twitching cock.

Even though Idy had just fucked him, she was unprepared for the massive cock which cleanly sliced its way inside her pussy. She felt him stop, pull out till she felt her pussy start to close around the departing head of his cock, and then he hammered in deep, thumping his pubic bone against hers. "Eiii," she shrieked in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck yes. Baby, drive that piston in me hard. Squirt. Squirt," she started to babble almost incoherently.

Just as her pussy started to clamp down in its hardest orgasm of the night, Robert pulled all the way out. His right hand quickly left her knee and flew down to grab his cockhead. He lined it up carefully and then leaned his two hundred-five pound slab of muscle onto his cock. She howled in agony below him as he speared half-way into her rectum on the first plunge. Then, he pulled out all the way and plunged back into her tight, buttery cunt. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten strokes he made into her pussy before he pulled out again.

"You tricked, me! You tricked me!" she babbled in cramping pain as his huge dick battered three quarters of its nine-inch-length into her ass.

"No, little sexpot," Robert panted above her. "You wanted my cum inside you, and that's what you'll get." He stopped talking to concentrate on counting his deep, pistoning strokes into her pussy. On the count of ten, he once again grabbed his massive cockhead and leaned hard, driving his cock all nine inches up her asshole. Robert pulled out and lined up for the pussy again.

Idy tears were from pain, humiliation, and the overwhelming joy of the sexual stimulation of a lifetime. Her previous five orgasms had burned all her excess energy; she could only lie still while he fucked her body like a lifeless sex doll. "Fuck me!" she screamed. "Fuck me!"

It was too much for the equally overloaded Robert; his dick jumped and started to spurt its white load of creamy jism, first in her ass, and then in her pussy as he changed holes. The ripples of her orgasm were strongest in her ass, but were amazingly tight in her pussy as well.

Afterward, Robert snuggled up against the worn out teenage. Robert knew that most women never had six orgasms in a single day their whole lives, let along the gut-wrenching ones these were. "Idy Constance is one well fucked teen now," Robert whispered to his lover.

Idy murmured in agreement and pulled him tighter around her sweaty and gritty body.

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

Robert Morgan was a happy man. He was already well away from the Heath Estate. His cash earnings from the rescue mission had risen from 1.1 million dollars cash to an even 1.5 million dollars. Roland Heath had eagerly offered an additional four hundred thousand dollars to take full ownership of Mary Alice Sheridan for himself. Robert only charged Gene St. James one hundred twenty-five dollars to buy the first year's option on Jeanne Heath. Her lease contract guaranteed Gene first option for renting her during subsequent years at forty-five dollars a year. Knowledge of her inexpensive rental price had made her explode in climax while the men and Maddalena watched with amusement. Jeanne was fast becoming a most loved addition, only as a pet of course, with no control of her destiny. The business empire was now headed jointly by Roland Heath and Gene St. James as a team of two equal-footed members.

One last piece of joyous news brightened his day before Robert began the long trek home. Roland Heath proposed marriage to his long-time nurse, Maddalena Camillo. The thirty-six year old blonde passionately agreed to become the wife of the sixty-eight-year-old. She wasn't worried about their age difference. She knew that Roland viewed sex the same way a Billy Goat did; something that could be done all day long; it was a quality that had attracted her to him in the first place.

As Robert Morgan drove the freed teens toward home, Idy Constance gingerly moved about, wondering at the fact she was no longer a virgin. Her inflamed pussy and anus had been soothed with special cream that the huge breasted blonde nurse had applied to her after thoroughly douching her. She flushed in remembrance of the aftermath of her attempted rape of her rescuer. Like her friends before her, she had been blindfolded and led to a suite of rooms with the windows covered with heavy blinds. The only difference is that her hands had been bound behind her back and her first lover had refused her any underwear under the sheer dress he had given her. Sperm and her own juices had run freely down her thighs under the dress from her pussy and butt hole. Then, the blonde had made her kneel naked in the tub while she ran warm soapy water up her pussy and butt to flush out all traces of her rescuer. The pink-tinged runnels of soapy water gave testament that she had given up her virginity. "Well, it was worth it," she told Maddalena fiercely. "Besides, you know I'll stick to the agreed upon story; nobody would believe the truth."

All four teens had rehearsed their story. They had been getting into their van after the tennis match when a man and a woman had kidnapped them at gunpoint. In the kidnapper's van, they were tied up by the man while the woman drove. During the ride, the kidnapper had ripped off Idy's clothing, brutally raped her, and then sodomized the hysterical teen. The three friends would testify to witnessing both the brutal rape and the sodomy that followed. Then, while the woman was in a convenience store paying for gas and snacks, the girls had overpowered the man and chained him up securely. The woman had been nabbed as she got in the vehicle. Panicked, Loretta Cooper, the other seventeen-year-old, had quickly driven away to an interstate rest area. While they were dragging the male kidnapper out of the vehicle, the female had somehow gotten loose and driven away, leaving them alone with the kidnapper chained to a picnic table. Idy had freaked out and washed herself as best as she could in the rest area's bathrooms. Then the police had arrived.

Of course, all four teenagers knew that the story was pretty much a fabrication. Yes, they understood that the pretty blonde male was part of the kidnap plot. They also knew that instead of one woman, two were actually involved, and they were rolled up in two long sausage-shaped rolls behind the middle bench seat of the white utility van they were riding in. By unspoken agreement, nobody asked what the fate of their female kidnappers was to be. They were each satisfied by the full day of torment they were allowed to inflict upon the now helpless females.

Rafael Domatto was blissfully unaware of how complicated his life was to become. Lisa and Lori Heath already had a good idea of how the tables had been turned on their schemes of kidnapping and slavery. They were scared to death of facing the coming days.

Robert and the four teenagers were well satisfied with the outcome of their adventure. None of the kidnapped teens were the worse for wear. In fact, Idy had enough material for sexual daydreams to last her for years. She was certain she would never achieve so many mind-bending orgasms in one setting as she had during her first sexual experience. "Yes," they all agreed with a laugh, "life was fucking great!"

--- To Be Continued ---

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

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Chapter 36 – Her Fate is Finally Decided (or A Virgin's Dilemma)

Aaron compared the two e-mails that he had just decrypted. Each had been sent by an agent operating on his behalf in Argentina. The first was from Michael Mueller, the ex-CPA and bookkeeper to a major drug kingpin whose activities had been centered in the southeastern United States. Michael's report was upbeat and told of his smooth transition from Aaron's prisoner to his manager at the newly acquired Montanya de Diablo (Devil's Mountain) Vineyards and Winery. Michael had been met at the airport by his special probation officers for the next five years, the Director and Deputy Director at the nearby Mendoza Provincial Penitentiary. They gave him a programmed local cell phone, an electronic monitoring collar for his ankle, and a local orientation. His tour of the Argentine penitentiary had been sobering; the tour of the extensive operations of the estate, vineyards, and winery were exhilarating.

Michael provided a detailed accounting of the condition of the previously family-owned vineyards and winery in the Mendoza wine region of Argentina. The vines in the century-old El Campo de Diablo (The Devil's Fields) Vineyards were in perfect condition. Michael had met the Vineyard Manager and the duo had personally inspected the Malbec, Cabernet, Zinfindel, and Viognier vines. His meeting with the Chief Winemaker at La Manera de Diablo (The Devil's Way) Winery had also gone smoothly. Aaron's new manager projected that the 450-acre estate would need no infusion of capital and should begin to generate income within a month or so from the sale of bottled wines already stored in the estate's well-stocked cellars. He reported that the climate was fantastic and a close clone to that of California's coastal wine production region.

Throughout the message were mentions of thanks for the second chance that he had been given and promises of superlative attention to detail in protecting the slaver's investment. Michael admitted to being a little put out at the insistence of his overseers that he attend Sunday Mass at a local Catholic church. But, he sheepishly mentioned being smitten after meeting the wonderful daughter of a local businessman at his very first church attendance. The small and mousy man, with his prematurely bald head, painted the young woman and her parents in glowing terms. He was clearly overwhelmed. The note closed with a mention of how certain that he was to enjoy his exile in Argentina.

The second message was from the powerful and ruthless agents hired by Aaron Clarke to watch over Michael Mueller during the subsequent five years. The chief operating officers of the ancient Mendoza Provincial Penitentiary predicted no problems in keeping the quiet man under control. Their oversight of all local transportation and the local telephone switchboard exchange would prevent his arranging for a departure. They did report that they had orchestrated the meeting of one of their nieces with Michael Mueller. The twenty-five year old Latin beauty was smitten by what she saw as a powerful and wealthy businessman. At her age, an unmarried spinster was a potential embarrassment to the family, and she was more than willing to overlook his physical deficiencies in order to make a match that would please her family. Everyone was contented with the prospect of having the mousy accountant as a relative to quell the fiery temper of their relative. The penitentiary managers felt the strong-willed girl and her parents could keep Aaron's problem accountant under control.

Aaron laughed at Michael's predicament. From the two views that he read of the young girl and the estate manager, Aaron made his own prediction of an even earlier wedding. "At her age," he laughed, "she's smart enough to get him into bed and become instantly pregnant. Her society is probably forcing her to make a marriage decision." He laughed again as he visualized a headstrong and independent woman forced to marry in an environment where she had already alienated any potential suitors. Thanks to Aaron's offer of full use of a warehouse slave each night, Michael had gotten quite a crash course in sex and B&D while spilling his guts about the drug business in the southeastern United States. The unworldly woman might have some sexual surprises of her own once she unleashed the accountant's lust. Aaron decided that the problem of Michael Mueller's probationary period was well under control. Aaron remembered that Michael Mueller was the first criminally involved captive to survive his capture by the East Coast Slavers Organization. The freedom of three truly fuckable law enforcement agents was part of his new strategy of enslaving the truly guilty and stealing their ill-gained wealth.

Aaron glanced over at the far corner of his desk at the picture he had set there the week before. It depicted a slender young blonde woman in a chaste schoolgirl outfit posed before a foreboding, medieval looking chateau. The letter beside the picture was forwarded from the Head Mistress at a very old fashioned, all girls, preparatory and finishing school in Switzerland. Her own short note indicated that his daughter, sixteen year-old Barbara Drake, was doing well in the freshman class at the six-year school. The letter and picture triggered a strong sexual response as Aaron Clarke, hardened slaver, remembered his difficulty in deciding what to do with his youngest captive, the virginal nineteen year-old Barbara Michaels, stuck-up bitch assistant to the even haughtier shop owner Belinda Maticevski.

Barbara had been quarantined untouched in a cage for weeks as howls of anguish and torment echoed around her through the slaver's warehouse in Miami. Her 'I'm better than you' attitude and haughty manners vanished the first night of her captivity when she awoke naked in a cage. Then, she saw her cagemate broken into her role as obedient bondage slut, followed by the drastic change in her boss Belinda. The mere sight of Belinda's one hundred-twenty-five-pound hairless body, topped with obscenely large man-made E+ tits, shambling along naked dragging her leg chains while she dispensed meals, changed linens, and cleaned up cages broke Barbara as surely as if she had been subjected to Aaron's normal brutal introduction to slavery. When she saw Belinda's new name, 'Cunt', tattooed boldly across her permanently hairless mons and the golden rings in her nipples and pussy lips, she was more than ready to make any bargain with her devil of a captor to keep from becoming like the other captives. The entire time Barbara Michaels had been Aaron's captive, she rarely saw another woman face-to-face, and she never learned the names of any of the other captives, including that of her cagemate, Sandy Hamilton. The voice-control training collars were vigilant twenty-four hours a day to ensure no unauthorized verbal communication occurred between slaves.

Finally one night, Aaron was feeling particularly horny and disgusted with his inability to decide the fate of his youngest captive. "After all," he told himself with some passion, "I am a slaver, not some pussy office worker." Thus prepared to act the part of a cruel slaver, he ordered his slaves to prepare Barbara for his use and to deliver her to his office suite. Aaron intended to pluck all three of her virgin cherries in privacy; he certainly didn't want any of his other slaves chiding him for fucking such a young beauty.

Barbara had cowered in absolute terror beside a plush couch in the office when he said, "Little cunt, you look delicious in your schoolgirl uniform. Flash me your tits."

Barbara knew she had to obey. The obvious signs of torture on her cagemate and her ex-boss, 'Cunt', had convinced her of the alternative. Barbara's hands brushed across her swollen breasts on the way down to the bottom of her sleeveless white pullover. "Oh," she thought with dismay, "my boobies are so swollen! My period must be ready to begin." Barbara knew when her period arrived that her belly pouched out a little bit and her breasts swelled from water retention; all effects of hormone's surging through her body. When her top popped up over her sensitive boobs, she saw that her normal full-size B cup breast meat was swollen to what was probably a hard mass of a C-sized cup. "I hope I don't start leaking," she cried silently in dismay. "I couldn't take him seeing me bleed."

She was heartened at the encouraging murmurs made by her captor at the sight of her bare boobies. "Yes!" she thought, "maybe he'll like me and treat me nicely." When his hand signaled clearly for her to draw the top off fully, she quickly yanked the white cotton up over her head and stood topless before a man for the first time in her young life. Her eyes had grown huge with wonder as she looked down to his groin. She moaned in dismay when she saw a huge lump under the man's designer trousers. "Of course he's going to have sex with me," she thought. "That's what this has all been leading up to. But, … my God! That looks like a log in his pants"

His next command both pleased her and took her by surprise.

"I like what I see," he had said. "Keep cooperating and I'll try and make this as enjoyable as possible for both of us. Turn around and show me your ass."

Barbara couldn't help but hesitate a little. "None of this is going like I thought," she complained to herself. Nonetheless, she forced a whore's smile onto her face and coyly turned her upper body half away from the slaver, pointing her plaid skirt-clad butt toward him. Without touching her short skirt, she leaned over toward the back of the sofa, letting the scratchy wool climb up her young rump, exposing the bottom of her bare ass. Barbara had been brought in to service her owner wearing only a tight white cotton top, a too small and too short skirt, and a pair of black lace-up patent leather shoes. She blushed crimson when she realized she was willingly showing a man a glimpse of her sparsely covered pussy. "From a back view," she thought miserably, "he can see my crack and my pussy lips hanging between my legs. Oh, God! How humiliating!"

"Flip the skirt up over your rump!" he commanded.

"If he wants to see my ass, then that's what he'll get," she vowed with a little tremble. She finished her half turn, fully presenting her ass, and flipped the skirt up and onto her back. Her knees shook as she fought to control her tears and fear. Her tummy tightened up with terror and she felt her nether lips clench in response.

When she was first captured, Barbara wanted nothing more than to escape from this slaver and return to her mother. But Barbara had long ago realized that even if let free, she had few options in life. She didn't even know where to go. Like her mother, she was undereducated, had no influential contacts, had no remaining family, was flat broke, and was too overwhelmed to right the difficult decisions she should have made in her past.

Unbeknownst to her, Belinda Maticevski had blabbed all the sordid details of her assistant's difficult life. She related how Barbara had grown up in a very restrictive home environment tightly controlled by a domineering mother. Everything else about the life of Barbara's mom was a failure; her non-existent career, her failed marriage, and her inability to capture a reliable, bread-winning spouse. Barbara rebelled by becoming an indifferent student at best and fought her mother every step of the way. Fortunately, she was disinclined to stoop to sex or drugs to alienate her hated mother. At eighteen, she ran away from home and in Miami bumped into Belinda Maticevski. The older woman had seemed so refined and perfect that Barbara had immediately fallen under her spell. Belinda was ecstatic at forty-six to have an eighteen year-old copying her every move and worshiping her. In the intervening months, Barbara had moved in with Belinda and the two were inseparable up until their capture together, soon after Barbara's nineteenth birthday.

"Hold still!" Aaron commanded as he drank in the sight of the perfect ass pointed his way. Normally he preferred his cunts hairless or at least severely shaved. However, everything about this young lady's ass cheeks, rectum, pussy, and thighs was perfection. "If you cooperate with me, I'll turn off your control collar and go easy on you," he said in a gentle voice. "What do you think?"

Barbara was all for things being easy. Too many signs of torture and pain had surrounded her in the warehouse cage. Desire to escape pain as well as numbing boredom made her ready for something to happen. She eagerly nodded her head up and down while gently swaying her ass, her winking asshole and pussy moving as if they were a cobra's eyes attempting to hypnotize its prey.

"No talking," Aaron commanded as he turned off the control collar, "otherwise I'll gag you, tie you up, and rape you."

Barbara's lean form shuddered at the thought. She promised herself that she would not use her voice, regardless of what he demanded of her.

She heard the slaver give a series of commands that she followed obediently. First, she had to spread her legs further apart, swing her head down low between her knees, and lewdly fondle her own breasts while keeping her eyes locked on his. Next she had to moan several times as if she needed sexual relief. Already deep in the forced game of following his commands, the fingers of one hand blindly fumbled around to spay open her pussy lips while the other hand's fingers obediently trapped her clitoris. Her next round of moans were far more natural sounding. When she felt her pussy juicing up around all ten of her probing digits, she could actually smell the aroma of aroused pussy.

Aaron had stared entranced at the dampening cunt before his eyes. He was riveted and aroused by the way her trapped and haunted eyes stayed locked on his regardless of the lewd act she was forced to undergo. When her hands glistened from her own aromatic dew, Aaron made her slowly start to step towards him, all the while keeping her fingers on her cunt lips and clit. Finally, Aaron made her turn around, raise her face to his and kiss him gently.

Barbara's face was beet red with embarrassment at having to inch backwards closer to this powerful man while her boobs jiggled with every difficult shuffling step. Then, she was mortified when he made her turn in place and more closer until her knees were outside his. She obediently leaned down to run her tongue out of her mouth and trace his lips. Gently, she continued to bring her face closer until her tongue spread his lips apart and tentatively darted in. "It's called French Kissing," she thought. "I'm nineteen now and I've never French Kissed before this."

She brought her damp lips across his face in little kissing smooches and dared to whisper in his ear, "Please don't hurt me. I've never even kissed like that before." Afraid at her effrontery at disobeying his order, she darted back to his mouth and ran her tongue further inside than before. When his tongue touched hers and his lips suctioned her further in, she froze in surprise. Then, with an obvious sigh of appreciation, she resumed her kissing. Again she froze when his fingertips trapped her aroused nipples and tugged them away from her chest, drawing her torso closer to his. The tugging amplified the ache in her swollen boobs and she moaned contentedly into his mouth.

When she drew back from his face to gulp in a much needed lungful of air, she was shocked to see his shoes, socks, pants, and underwear were gone. His shirt was opened wide and his giant cock bobbled up in the air inches below her chin. Mesmerized, she stood as if stunned until his fingers tightly squeezed her nipples. At that point, she saw her skirt pooled at her feet. "I'm naked now," she wondered. "He took off my skirt, and I never even felt it."

Aaron had taken the time during her focused kissing session to wriggle out of most of his clothing and to unleash his big prick. "Sit on my lap," Aaron commanded with a noticeable growl of lust in his voice.

Barbara slipped her legs a little forward and lowered herself onto his thighs. As she moved to set her bare breasts against his naked chest, she was shocked to note that his gigantic sex organ actually hit the underside of her breasts. She almost fainted at the thought of sitting down on that rigid log. "Oh, dear God!" she whispered to herself, "that thing will split me open. No way I can take that thing inside me."

Aaron remembered back to the first time his clasped fingers ran across her perfect ass. The tiny blonde hairs on her butt made the skin feel as smooth and as perfect as a newborn baby. He also could feel his long dick bump against the bottom of her breasts. Unlike Barbara, he had no qualms or fears that he wouldn't fit inside what was certain to be the tightest cunt he had ever encountered. His only problem; standing by his promise meant that he couldn't just throw her onto the carpeted floor of his office and drill himself into her virgin pussy. He groaned as the length of his cock caressed along the teen's tightly closed cunt slit. "Nice!" he moaned into Barbara's ear. "You're gonna be a great piece of ass."

Barbara had flinched as her body was pulled up against his rock-hard penis. She relaxed against him when she heard his appreciative groan and his whispered "Nice!" His comment about how great she would be in bed triggered a warm feeling in her tummy. "He wants me bad," she thought with a naughty giggle to herself. She rolled her arms tightly around his torso and hugged him forcefully, even rocking her hips against his hard stalk. His hips pushed back against her, stimulating her clit and bringing a flood of blood to her sensitive tissues.

Barbara raised her hips up high, running her pussy along the full length of his cock. She was surprised at how high she had to move up in order to find the knobby end of him. It felt so good, she sighed and slipped down, grinding her groin hard against his. This time she grunted at the pleasurable feelings and started back up his long stalk, rubbing her wet slit across the solid bar of meat. Over and over, she rubbed her gash up and down his cock, creating electrifying sensations as she sped faster and faster.

Aaron remembered how Barbara's increasing ardor was matched by her escalating vocalization as each pussy rubbing, dick caressing, humping motion was finished. Previously willing to let her take the lead in their foreplay, Aaron changed strategies as he became too aroused by her lithe form dancing upon his lap. As her next upward lunge completed, he took careful note of her height so that on the subsequent rise, his hands moved her up an additional two inches, letting his cock knob jump forward to nestle into the recess of her pubic mound.

Barbara threw her weight down with her normal exuberance and then wailed in dismay as she realized that she had skewered herself onto the man's giant cock. "Eiii," she shrieked, "too much! That's too much!" She froze in fear and slowly looked down to see what damage she had done to herself. Her hands tentatively felt around the thickness of his cock and felt only tightly stretched pussy lips and no damage. "You're inches deep in me already. Oh, God! It's so big!" Tears streamed down her face as she fought to remove herself and shrieked as nothing moved except for her insides. "Ahhhh!" she moaned, "Help me! It burns so bad! It's pulling my belly out!"

Murmuring words of encouragement, Aaron had calmed the virgin enough to get her to hold still, impaled halfway on his dick. She felt so deliciously tight and hot mounted on him that it took everything he had to hold back from raping brutally in and out of her. He held still and rubbed her back, continuing his gentle murmurs. One hand had taken possession of a temptingly swollen breast momentarily before it shifted down to find her clit sticking out above her tight-lips. His other hand reluctantly left her flawlessly soft back and reached down to clasp himself just below her thinly stretched lips, his own fist-gripped cock acting as a stopper so that Barbara's body wouldn't slip further down on him. Fighting his reflex to hump upward as hard as he could, Aaron leaned in to kiss Barbara on her lips with a gentle kiss while continuing to gently rub her clitoris in circles. He made the kiss more insistent as she responded. "Hmmm," Aaron moaned into her mouth. He slipped his tongue deeper into her mouth and started to gently rotate his fuckstick in tiny circles, stirring his cock around in her hot box and slowly loosening up her pussy's unrelenting grip.

Sitting in his office weeks later, Aaron could barely suppress groans of satisfaction as his cock swelled in happy memory of the taking of her vaginal virginity. Still stuck halfway onto his big dick, she had started to leak gobs of sex drool and blood from her broken hymen. Aaron remembered looking down and seeing his balls and the base of his throbbing stick streaked with the gooey stuff. That was the point at which Aaron realized that his act of setting her upon his dick had hastened his sex act to the point that he had forgotten to use a condom. Deciding her tight gash felt too good around his aching cock, and knowing she was ready to start her period at any time, he decided that he didn't care about the outcome. He let the hand gripping his dick slip a further quarter-inch down his meat. She never noticed, so Aaron suctioned his lips against her sensitive neck and kept up his slow stirring of her slippery box, Widening her too tight twat with every pot-stirring rotation. He made sure that the heal of his thumb kept up a stimulating rotation of her slippery clit. Aaron's hand was now covered in her goo. He let her slip down another half-inch.

Barbara's low moans of passion vibrating from her voicebox made Aaron's lips tingle while they were arduously kissing the nape of her neck. When Aaron's hand slipped all the way down his fuckmeat to the base of his cock, he knew he had five full inches buried in her cunt and he was nearly ready to let her fall down the last four inches. The fist sitting against the base of his pecker was absolutely drenched in slippery pussy goo. Her moans were nearly continuous now. Ready for the next step, Aaron eased his hand out and grabbed her ass cheek. He thought he would never forget the feel of her tight cunt sleeve about his dick as she slowly settled down till her hard pubic bone hit his.

Aaron felt Barbara clench his body desperately; whether in fear or passion, he was unsure. He left one hand possessively clenching her meaty ass while the other wrapped around her back, hugging her as tightly as she held him. She returned the passion of his kisses as he held her in place, skewered upon his giant log of a cock. Even weeks later, Aaron remained touched at how Barbara had accepted her fate, trying to placate him and make a better place for herself. He waited fully ten more minutes, kissing, hugging, and caressing, before he brought both his hands down to crush her butt cheeks in his grip.

There is little doubt that Barbara Michaels would never forget her first sex. After she first accidentally impaled herself, his monster prick remained locked in her insides for at least thirty minutes before he spewed tablespoons of creamy white jism into her vagina. By then, her cervix was sore from the stretching and pounding of the too-long prick in her tiny frame. However, her overworked 'G' spot, clitoris, and sensitive nerve endings inside and outside her fuck hole had given her an unimaginable number of earth-shattering orgasms. Her lover had slowly begun to fuck her, and over at least thirty minutes of fucking, built up to a bruising pace where she was literally thrown up and down upon his gigantic spike. By the time they were finished, Aaron had left sticky and bloody handprints all over her musky, wrung out frame. Barbara actually passed out in exhaustion as she felt his giant snake convulse as it spewed millions of baby-making sperm into her no longer virginal body.

Aaron took a deep breath and sat back within his office chair and looked back at Barbara's photo at her new school. He pinched his rock hard cock and wished she was there. "I never took her anal cherry," he thought with some regret. "Maybe later," he promised himself with a cocky grin. He remembered pulling Barbara's short skirt down over her ass and laid her unconscious body down on the couch. With her legs askew, Aaron clearly saw her puffy, just-fucked labia with white jism and thin bloody rivulets drooling out onto the inside of the plaid skirt. "She looks well and truly fucked out," he thought with a grin.

A small padlock clicked shut, connecting a thin stainless steel chain to an eyelet on the back of her training collar. Aaron ran the chain the few feet into his bathroom and padlocked the other end to a secure loop of hardened steel drilled deep into the concrete warehouse floor. He threw a comforter over the sexually wrung out girl and returned to his paperwork.

Aaron remembered how embarrassed the young woman was when later she awoke naked save for her skirt and collar and covered in dried cum, pussy lube, and blood. She wept when Aaron threatened her with a whipping if she didn't drop the comforter she was bundled up in. "That was only for sleeping, slut! You are never to cover yourself without permission when out of bed," he growled. When ordered to clean up in the bathroom and return to kneel beside the couch, he was pleased when she readily followed his directions.

Picture in hand, Aaron thought how her easy submission had impressed him into categorizing her as a 'catch and release' candidate. Aaron first contacted his document preparer, Ricardo Manapat. Ricardo and his granddaughter, Teresa, forged a new identity for Barbara. Nineteen year-old Barbara Michaels became sixteen year-old Barbara Drake, daughter to Justin Drake. One of Aaron's identities now had a sixteen year-old daughter. While the documents were being prepared, Aaron contacted a lawyer who only knew him as Justin Drake, licensed private investigator. It took time and money, but Aaron was able to get applications for Swiss citizenship submitted for both himself and his daughter, Barbara.

Two weeks after her first sexual experience, Barbara found herself flying to Europe with her 'father' while she masqueraded as a girl three years her junior. Still wearing her training collar, with her lush breasts cruelly wrapped in a training bra, she was on her way to the medieval looking Swiss school, forced to redo her once-failed high school experience. Thrilled to be free, she had been horrified to discover that legally she was now only sixteen and faced six years of forced schooling. Barbara was also appalled to learn she had to master English, French, and Latin. The school's strict regime included all the traditional subjects of a normal high school preparing students for college plus those required of an old fashioned finishing school. She actually sulked and whined when she found that not only did the school have corporal punishment, but that her Master would severely punish her during breaks for any failed classes. The school considered a 'C' or lower grade to be failing. The once apathetic student now had to get only 'A's or 'B's.

They spent the night in a luxury hotel in Geneva. A grateful and now very much sexually active Barbara finally succeeded in fully deep-throating his oversize cock just minutes after arriving in the hotel. Her 'father' pumped a very satisfying load of cum far into her gullet. Barbara's oral skills soon got him fully rigid again and she rode him to multiple climaxes before her amazingly tight twat finally coaxed his cock into pumping another heavy load into his condom.

The first lonely night in her private room at the finishing school, Barbara read through a packet of papers given her by her 'father'. With amazement, she found that she her Master had already finalized the paperwork to make her a trust fund baby. The legally binding trust fund stated that upon reaching her twenty-second birthday, she could redeem her finishing school graduating diploma for full control of her one million dollar trust fund. If she was unable to graduate, the trust fund reverted back to her 'father'. A handwritten note from her 'dad' read:

"Remember dear, this school will open limitless doors of opportunity for you. This is your only chance to break free from the certain failure of your past life. Consider yourself lucky that you get to redo your entire high school experience. Learn as much as possible. Fail and you rejoin your last boss to work side by side in the lowest of service vocations.

Love Dad"

Barbara had gulped in fear of failure and resolved to succeed, no matter how hard the academics were. "I can't end up like that stuck-up bitch, Belinda," she thought. Barbara had finally come to understand that her boss was hopelessly haughty, beyond redemption, and no longer her role model. That first night at the Swiss finishing school, Barbara went to sleep only after bringing herself to a series of mini-orgasms as one hand masturbated furiously while the other either caressed her boobs or absently traced the new tattoo centered above her still hairless pussy. Her new tattoo was a shameless source of sexual fantasy and lust.

Before she left for Europe, her Master's slaves had rubbed a black dye onto her already sparse blonde pubic hair. Then using a laser flash to burn the hair out down below the skin's surface, they removed everything except what was protected under a three-inch-wide, heart-shaped cutout. After the laser depilation, the remaining heart-shaped section of hair located just above her now hairless labia and asshole was temporarily shaved off to free the site for placement of her new tattoo. The full color work of art depicted a buxom blonde on hands and knees, big boobs hanging down temptingly. A slave collar and leash clearly identified the sexy woman as a slave, reinforced by the wrist cuffs she wore and the 'fuck me' heels. The only other item of clothing worn by the slave was a black mask that only obscured her eyes. Eventually, Barbara's sparse pussy hair would grow back in the heart-shape, partially hiding her revealing brand from casual scrutiny.

Aaron left a final enticement to encourage the young woman to succeed. If her grades were 'acceptable', Barbara's 'father' was to take her to ski at Saint Moritz over her entire Christmas holiday. Probably the world's most famous ski resort, Saint Moritz is the site where winter sports holidays were born. The resort was first used by English tourists in 1864 and had grown to become the playground for the rich and famous. Barbara was promised a limitless shopping spree to prepare for the slopes and a chance for a world-class ski experience on Saint Moritz' famous slopes and state-of-the-art high-speed detachable triple and quad lifts.

--- To Be Continued ---

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

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