by Paul Blades
The crowd was giving her shouts of encouragement. Jack just kind of tuned them out and concentrated on letting her ministrations send him wave after wave of pleasure. He had closed his eyes. It was just like the old days. It was almost as if the twelve years in the joint had been only a bad dream. He had broken in, or seen broken in, dozens of unhappy women this way back in the day. They thought that they were performing the odious task to avoid more unpleasant eventualities, but they were really doing nothing but forestalling them.
Jack had no doubt that his was not the last cock she would suck tonight, just as he was sure that sooner or later, before her evening was through, she would make acquaintance with the long, stiff tassels of the flogger she had been shown a little while ago. But hope sprung eternal and the woman had undoubtedly acted with the expectation that somehow sucking his cock and doing a good job would alleviate her sufferings when actually she was just initiating them.
She worked his cock skillfully. Her hands twisted and turned behind her back in their bindings. Her long, brown hair recorded each movement of her head, swirling this way and that. Once Jack’s cock had reached its maximum extension, she had had to edge herself back a little so that her mouth could accommodate it.
Jack reached down and seized her hair. On her next down stroke, he pushed her head down firmly until his cock pressed against the back of her mouth. “Go down all the way, honey,” he told her gruffly. “Give me long, slow strokes like you like it.”
He held her head down until her gurgling started to get frantic and then he released her. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. She pulled her head back slowly until the head lay just inside her lips and then lowered again slowly, this time making sure that she got in as much of his rigid pole as she possibly could.
The crowd had pretty much silenced now. There was an old Hank Williams tune playing. It was sweet and low and made the woman’s predicament seem all the more doleful. Jack had to give it to her. She was really doing a good job. She was issuing little squeals and moans as she worked his dick. Her eyes were closed in an attempt to blot out everything around her.
One of the women shouted out, “Now I recognize her! That’s Malinda Ramirez! I seen her picture in the paper. Her husband owns half the real estate in Albuquerque and a dozen or more car dealerships! She runs a string of these high class women’s wear places. She’s a millionaire!”
A couple of people seconded the woman’s observations. The woman’s eyes sprung open and she released a loud moan as if having been identified made her shame all the more woeful. She slowed down and released a sob. Jack tapped her harshly on her cheek. “Come on, little rich girl, get back to work,” he told her gruffly.
With a sob, the woman went back to her odious chore. Jack closed his eyes again, relishing the friction of her lips, the agility of her tongue. He had to give it to her, she was putting her all into it. It made him happy that he hadn’t ditched her.
But there was something wrong with what was going on, something slightly off kilter. There was something about being back in the milieu of so many years ago that was not quite satisfying. It was like his years of spiritual torment, the deadly years of confinement, had taught him to seek out the deeper, more pure essence of things. The people in the room, people who were getting their jollies from watching him humiliate the woman, seemed somehow puerile and shallow. It was a surprising discovery.
All those many years in the joint he had thought that this was exactly what he wanted, the approbation of his cohorts, his peers, indiscriminate access to alluring, subservient females. He had achieved that goal, no one in their merry band was more honored right then than him, and he had a helpless, much more than attractive bitch sucking his wand. To his surprise, it did not give him the thrilling charge he had thought it would.
And then he realized, it was the girl. He wanted the girl and no one else. He imagined that is was her mouth on his cock, her on her knees before him. The wavelength he had been seeking, that pure, unadulterated stream of rapture he had experienced with the girl came rushing back. It was her that he wanted, her that he craved. Something had happened between them in that isolated cabin buried in snow, or at least it had happened to him.
He felt his climax coming. A wellspring of exultation erupted within him. A wave of pleasure washed through him. He felt that peak building, that peak that presaged the eruption of his passions. He held himself there, wanting to preserve that feeling of immanence as long as he could. “Carly. That’s her name. Carly,” he thought. He knew that he should have saved himself for her but it was too late to do anything about it now. The crowd around had sensed his approaching crisis.
“That a boy, Jack!” “Go get ‘er Blackjack!” “Give it to her!” “Fuck her face!” “Shove it down her throat!” the voices called out. He held himself there, held himself, held himself. The picture of his captive’s doleful eyes looking up at him as she consumed his manhood sprung into his mind. It was perfect! Perfect! Was this love? Was he in love with her? What did it mean?
And then all thoughts of reflection left him as his cock exploded. He gave a loud, angry sounding grunt and he felt his cock throbbing and jerking in the woman’s mouth. She gave a squeal and tried to back away, but his hand circled her head, grabbing her hair, and he pushed her down and up, down and up, down and up, as his juices flowed in rabid spurts from deep inside his balls.
“Arrrrrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!” he groaned. His body was permeated with bliss. “Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!” he thought.
As his cock’s pulses waned, he pressed the unhappy woman’s head down as far as it would go. He felt his prick pierce her throat and she began to gargle and cough and struggle. He kept it there while he wound down. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” he moaned. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” That was great.
The crowd of onlookers erupted with glee and mirth. Hands reached down and roughly pulled the grimacing woman away. An animated discussion arose about who was next. Then Ike stepped in. “I’m next,” he growled sternly. The men and women hushed. He had been standing next to Jack.
He reached out for her arm and the others gave her up. The woman looked frantic. His hand easily enclosed her upper arm. He grabbed it tightly and pulled her to her feet. The woman winced. He stood about 8” taller than her and was twice as wide.
“I’m going to take her upstairs and see what million dollar pussy tastes like,” he said. He turned to Jack.
“You don’t mind, Jack, do you?” he asked. His tone suggested clearly that he expected no objection.
“Not at all,” Jack replied. “Not at all.”
Ike gave a yank to the woman’s arm and he began to propel her to the stairs. She squealed and whined. Ike stopped and took her by the throat. “If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up,” he told her.
Her eyes wide and her lips trembling, the woman gave a frantic indication of assent. “Please don’t hurt me!” she whined.
Ike released her throat and took hold of her arm again. He passed by Hound Dog who was still holding the flogger.
“Give me that,” Ike said.
Hound Dog handed him the cruel instrument.
“C’mon, Malinda, or whatever your name is,” Ike said. “I’m going to give you a little lesson in discipline.”
The woman sobbed and wailed all the way up the stairs. Only the closing of the door to the bedroom silenced her.
CHAPTER SIX
Carly hadn’t witnessed what went on with the woman, but she had heard the crowd’s excitement and the woman’s pleas. Most of the time though she spent quailing in her cage enduring the unrestrained eyes of the people around her. A few of them came up to the cage to taunt her. Having received the command from the man, she didn’t dare flinch as they perused her intimately, suggesting what they would do to her when they got the chance.
One of the women, harsh and butch looking, had practically salivated over her. Carly assumed that she must have some kind of rank with the gang since she held herself haughtily
and none of the men came to stand over her. She was hefty, but not really fat, just built like a tank. Her black hair was short and messy. Her nose looked like it had been broken at least once, maybe more. She was wearing a black leather vest over a black, sleeveless t-shirt and had tattoos up and down her arms. On her upper right arm was the same cursive, bright red ‘R” she had seen on the breast of one of the women. Her face was broad and coarse looking, her features thick.
She had a blond companion, slim and a little weather beaten. There was a bright brass ring in her nose. She was wearing a short, yellow shift with cut out sleeves and a scooped neck. The butch woman seemed to have some authority over her and Carly assumed that they were a couple, of sorts.
“Heya, honey,” the butch woman said, leaning over the cage and banging on it loudly. Carly had to bend her neck up to see her.
“Nice tits. How’d ya like to come out and play a little bit? I’d sure like to get my tongue up your sweet looking little pussy. Say hello to the little girl, fuckslut,” she told the other woman. Carly noticed then the chain leading from the woman’s nose to the butch woman’s hand. The blond woman was pale and her skin looked as thin and as delicate as tissue paper. Carly expected her to cringe at the caustic appellation, but she just smiled.
“Hello, little girlie,” she said in a high pitched voice. “You look kinda cute.”
“I wonder whether she’s ever licked a pussy,” the butch woman said. “Maybe I’ll ask Blackjack if we can have a turn with her tomorrow.” Her eyes kept sweeping over Carly’s flesh. It made her skin crawl and when she mentioned asking her captor for a turn with her, Carly’s stomach went sour and a chill ran through her. She was fighting back her tears.
To Carly she said, “How’s about it, honey? I’ll be ya I could make you scream. Then I’d squeeze your pretty face between my thighs. Maybe I’ll see what Blackjack’s looking to get for ya. I’d love to put ya in my stable.”
Fear shook Carly to her core. She was right about the man selling her off to the gang. To think that she could become this woman’s property made her blood run cold. The tears she had been suppressing started to flow.
“Lookie, mistress” the blond woman said. “She’s crying.”
“Ain’t that sweet,” the bulky woman said. “I’d love to give her something to really cry about.”
Carly shivered and she closed her eyes. The woman laughed. She apparently tired of her sport. “When ya talk to Blackjack next, tell him Big Betty wants to get a piece of ya.” She laughed again. She pulled on the chain that led to the blond woman’s nose.
“C’mon, fuckslut,” she said. “Let’s see whose cock needs suckin’. I don’t want you getting all rusty on me.”
Carly watched them amble away with dismay. “Don’t let her buy me! Don’t let her buy me!” she thought desperately. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” All the people who loved her were a million miles away. She had somehow fallen into hell. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in the butch woman’s stable. It sounded like she ran a whorehouse or something. From the looks of her, it was probably a harsh, terrifying place. “I couldn’t stand it! She thought. “I couldn’t stand it!” But then again, someone was going to buy her! They were going to make her a whore! “Please, God, no! Please don’t let it happen! Please! Please!” she prayed.
Her eyes started seeking out the man. She had seen him enter into a crowd of people and she assumed that he was the one that they centered around. Once, the crowd parted momentarily and she saw the man’s face lifted up, his eyes closed as if in a trance. She deducted that he was taking pleasure from one of the women and worried what that portended for her. Her only hope was that the man would still want her enough to not turn her over to the gang. She knew it was a slim hope, and remaining the man’s prisoner was harrowing in itself. But the prospect of becoming a common whore for the scurvy, conscienceless people she had seen so far was abhorrent.
At one point, one of the men unlocked the cage next to her and the frightened young girl was removed and taken upstairs. Another one, a thin blond, was brought down and locked in the cage the other had just left, but her sojourn there was brief as another man came and got her out within a few minutes. Carly cowered in her little cage, seeing firsthand her probable future.
She saw the big man, the one who had shown her captor where to lock her up, take the woman she had shared the trunk with up the stairs. The woman was wailing and sobbing and watching it made Carly shiver with fear. The man who was leading her seemed as ruthless and cruel as her captor. Maybe worse. He looked like their leader. If he was, sooner or later she would have to fuck him. The thought made her cringe with dismay.
The crowd dissipated and some of them began dancing again to the loud, twangy music. Two men seized one of the prettier girls and dragged her over to a couch and made her strip. The room smelled of pot, cigarettes and beer. One of the men had brought out a large bong and a circle of celebrants surrounded it and started taking hits. Part of Carly envied them. It would be good to be able to smother her consciousness, take her mind away to another state. She would smoke and smoke until her senses became so dulled she wouldn’t care what they did to her.
Just then, the man reappeared in front of her cage. He was looking at her strangely. She welcomed the sight of him. She knew that there were bedrooms upstairs and she began to hope that he would take her up there soon. She would do anything to be beyond the eyes and reach of the partygoers. And she was hungry too. She had watched the man eat while she starved and she added it to the long list of things she had compiled to seek revenge on him for. But now, all her mind concentrated on sending him the strongest psychic message she could. “Please take me away from this! Please! Please!”
Jack looked down on the doleful and supplicative eyes. She looked so pretty in there, all caged up. This is exactly how he’d keep her if he ever got her down to Mexico. She’d have no existence outside of her little world unless he gave it to her. He’d feed her and clean her and exercise her so she stayed lean and tight. She wouldn’t be allowed to say a single word, ever. And he’d keep her naked, like this. He desired her so much that he could feel it under his skin. This was bad. He would do anything to keep her out of the hands of these vultures. But how would he do it? He didn’t even know the next step as far as he was concerned. Tomorrow he would talk to Ike. They must have a way for him to get over the border. And maybe he could take her after all.
He remembered that she hadn’t eaten. The first rule for a pet is that you had to feed them right. If he wanted her helpless, he had a responsibility to take care of her. There was a table full of food, but he didn’t want her eating in here where all the others could watch her. They might get the wrong idea. There had to be a kitchen here. He would get a plate of food and bring her back there. Then, maybe, he’d head to bed. The partying would go on all night and he was hang dog tired.
Taking the key from his pocket, he unlocked the cage. When the door swung open, she looked to him for permission to exit. He motioned her out with his hand. When she had shuffled out and cleared the door, he took hold of the hair on the back of her head and brought her to her feet. He led her past some revelers and over to the table. He had her kneel while he filled up a plate with a nice sized hunk of steak and some beans. Then he brought her back to her feet and led her in the direction of where the kitchen might be.
The music was still blaring loudly. Couples were fornicating out in the open. Bottles of Jack were being passed around. The property girls were all naked now and in various states of use. He exited the room and saw a hallway. He brought the girl down it with him. There was a door at the end. He pushed it open and they were in the kitchen.
It was large with copper colored stone tiles across the floor and half way up the walls. A wide, long, wooden table sat in the middle of it. There was a nice sized, shiny steel, industrial type refrigerator and a commercial stove. Pots and pans hung on hooks on the walls. Wooden chairs were distribu
ted around the table. At one end sat the guy who had been introduced to Jack as Stitch. He had a naked, black haired girl kneeling on the floor next to him and he was feeding her bits of food from his plate.
The door swung closed behind them, deadening the noise from the party room. Stitch looked up at Jack and smiled.
“Had enough?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jack answered. “Too many people.”
“I know how you feel,” Stitch replied. “I did a six year stretch at PNM, a max joint over in Santa Fe. Took me about a year to get used to being around people without watching to see who was going to jump me. I ain’t never going back.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack said. There was a long, wooden, butcher block counter near the sink where he could chop up the girl’s steak. He released her hair and tapped a spot on the floor with his boot. She gave him an unhappy glance and then sank obediently to her knees, spread them and put her forehead on the floor.
“Nice trick,” Stitch observed. “You’ve got her trained good.”
“Yeah,” Jack answered. “You gotta show them who’s in charge right away. Saves a lot of problems later.”
He went over to the counter and pulled a butcher’s knife out of a wooden block. He dumped the steak on the counter and then opened a few drawers until he found a fork. He started in to chopping the steak into little pieces.
Stitch just watched him. The girl he had been feeding watched him too, nervously. She had heard the others talking about him and how mean he was. She didn’t want to go nearer than a mile to him. Stitch had to give her a little slap to get her attention. She looked at the piece of meat in his hand and opened her mouth. Her hands were confined to her collar by a small chain. There were a number of faded marks on her pale skin from a beating or two. She took the meat from Stitch’s hand and started chewing.
