by Paul Blades
Jack had the meat all cut up and started looking in the cabinets for a bowl big enough to mix the beans and meat together.
“Lookin’ for a bowl?” Stitch asked him.
Jack grunted a reply.
“There’s some bowls there on the floor by the wall,” Stich told him. “That’s where we usually feed the girls.”
Jack looked over. There were four large, stainless steel dog bowls all lined up near the wall. They looked good enough. He went over and picked two of them up and brought them to the counter. He dumped the beans and the meat in one and mixed them all around. He turned to Stitch. “Got any milk in that fridge?”
“Yeah, on the door,” Stitch answered.
Jack went over to the refrigerator and opened it. There was a gallon jug in the door slot.
“All the comforts of home,” Jack commented.
“Yeah, we like to keep it nice. Somebody makes a run for stuff every couple of days. We try and keep the traffic down to a minimum, especially during the day,” Stitch said. “For obvious reasons.”
“Yeah,” Jack answered. He brought the milk over to the counter and filled the other silver bowl almost to the top. He returned the jug to the fridge and then put the gleaming bowls on the floor. He snapped his fingers and the girl’s head rose up. He pointed to the bowls and she shuffled over on her knees. She paused when she reached the food and looked up at him. He removed the gag from her mouth and gave her a nod. She spread her legs and leaned over until her mouth was by the bowl with the food and began to eat.
Jack watched her for a few seconds. It never ceased to give him a little charge to see her eating like that. Between bites, she looked up at him resentfully. It made him chuckle inside. He hoped she never got over the humiliation of eating like a dog. It would take the fun out of it.
He had seen some long necks in the fridge and went back and got himself one. “Get you one?” he asked Stitch. Stich nodded. Jack took out two bottles of Lone Star and brought them to the table, pulling out a chair. Before he sat down, he handed a bottle to the other man. Stitch nodded his thanks and twisted off the top. He told the girl to go stand in the corner. She got up from her knees and, giving Jack a fearful glance, scurried over to where the kitchen wall met the outside of the building and pressed herself into it face first.
Jack took a long look at her, admiring her firm posterior and long, graceful legs. He had to admit, she had appeal. He realized that he ought to fuck his balls off while he had the chance. Who knew how long it would be before he got himself all set up in Mexico, if ever. He might regret not fucking everything he could. But then he looked over to his captive. He had a good view of her from where he sat. He was behind her and her hot little slit peaked out between her legs as she ate. He promised himself to spend a little time there before too long.
There was a bottle of Wild Turkey on the table with a couple of glasses. Stitch poured them both a shot. They raised their glasses at the same time and clinked them together. “Here’s looking up your kilt,” Stitch said.
“Yeah,” Jack replied. “To good times.”
They both shot the rye whiskey back at the same time.
Jack was feeling a little high from all the drinking he had been doing. He wasn’t used to it. Stitch poured them both another shot, but he didn’t protest. He was starting to like the way it felt.
“So what are your plans?” Stitch asked him.
“Right now, the only plan I have is to get to Mexico in one piece,” Jack told him.
“Ike’ll take care of that,” Stitch said. “One of our Mexican contacts is coming here tomorrow night to pick up some merchandise. I’m sure Ike’ll fix you up with him. He could probably use a guy like you.”
“That would suit me fine,” Jack said.
“What are you going to do with the girl?” Stitch asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” Jack answered. “I’d kind of like to take her with me, but we’ll have to see.”
“You could get a pretty good buck for her from our friend,” Stitch told him. “She’s right up his alley. You’ll need some dough to get all set up. Or you could talk to Ike. We’ve got a few places where we could use her. But he’d probably give her to Big Betty. Did you meet her?”
“I don’t think I did,” Jack answered. “But I think I know who you mean. She’s a 200 lb. bull dike, with arms like a prize fighter?”
“That’s her,” Stitch replied laughing. “She runs one of our special places, ya know, where you can get anything you want. We send all of our trouble makers there. Once Big Betty gets a hold of ‘em they aren’t trouble any more. She keeps ‘em all under lock and key 24/7. Once a girl goes there, well, there’s no place to go after Big Betty’s.”
“I’ll give it some thought,” Jack said. “As to the money bit, I scored a little on my way here. But not enough to last very long. If this Mexican guy can give me work, that would be good.”
“I’m sure he has work for you,” Stitch assured him. He poured two more shots. “Here’s looking at you,” he said as he raised the glass again. Jack followed suit and they downed the liquor. They stayed talking for a while. They compared notes on prison life. Stitch told Jack he was wanted on a parole warrant, but that he’d shoot it out if they ever came for him. Jack agreed that that was the only thing to do. Jack started telling some stories from the old days and Stitch had a few of his own.
At one point, the girl had finished the food and started in on the bowl of milk. When she was done, Jack went over to her and wiped her sauce covered mouth and chin with a paper towel. He reinstalled her gag and told her to go stand in the corner opposite the black haired girl. When she was situate, he sat back down in his chair. Stitch had another shot ready.
Carly listened while he men swapped horrific tales of their depredations and of their lives as convicts. It was the most she had heard the man talk. It was a little strange to hear him go on. She had only heard short sentences from him since he had taken her, and sometimes he had said nothing to her for hours, using gestures or a snap of his fingers instead. From the stories he told, she confirmed for herself what a brute that he was. The other guy wasn’t much better.
When she had heard the other man mention the bowls on the floor, she had quailed at the thought that she would have to eat that way in front of him and the naked black haired girl. When she saw the actual bowls, her heart dropped. They were clearly bowls meant for dogs. She obeyed though. She didn’t have much choice if she wanted to eat. And she was very, very hungry. The steak and beans wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t cold either. Carly knew that if she ever got free she would never eat beans again. She hadn’t liked them to start with, but since her captivity they had been virtually the staple of her diet. For now, though, it didn’t matter. She would do what she’d been told. She gulped them and the small bits of meat obediently.
She kept an ear out for the men’s conversation. As a prisoner, she knew that no one would ever tell her what was going on around her and so she would have to draw her own conclusions from the bits and pieces of conversation she was able to decipher. She heard the man confirm that he was heading for Mexico. That was no surprise. But the next thing he said had much more interest for her. The other man had asked if he was going to take her with him. Then about selling her to the Mexican guy. Then, he mentioned Big Betty, who Carly had already met. She had to pause in her eating when she heard that.
Liberation was clearly not in her future. The dismalness of her situation made her feel like breaking out into sobs all over again. There had to be some way out of this! There had to be! But what she had seen of the other girls told her that these men were practiced at keeping women prisoner. Dozens of women had probably passed through here. If they couldn’t escape, how could she? The very fact that this strange slice of hell in which she now found herself existed meant that none of them ever had.
So one of the three possibilities the other man had mentioned was her future. Of the three choices, she would choose staying with the
devil she knew. But even the mere possibly being sold into slavery was horrifying. What life would be like imprisoned in a Mexican whorehouse she hardly dared imagine. And to be sold off to that woman, Big Betty, that was the most horrifying of them all. Men could get anything they wanted at her place. And she had had a sample of the anything they were talking about over the last few days. And from what the man said, they would keep her there until she was of no more use to them and then dispose of her. Throw her away. She would probably die an agonizing death at the hands of some psychopath. “Oh, god, please not that! Please!” she thought.
When she realized she had stopped eating, she quickly pressed her face down in the bowl. She had been ordered to eat and if he saw her slacking off from his order, he would punish her.
Now, standing in the corner, she realized that her only hope of avoiding the worst was to please her captor, to make him not to want to part with her. He was just one man and sooner or later he would become inattentive and she could get away. But if she were held prisoner in a brothel, the likelihood of her getting away would be much smaller. They would have systems and routines just for the purposes of keeping their property secure. Someone would be watching over her and the other girls all the time. No, she had to somehow convince the man to keep her, to bring her to Mexico with him.
But did he even have final say in the matter? Up to now, he had been the supreme authority over all things that concerned her. Things were different now. That man, the one who was the leader here, he had had a clear voice of authority. And while her captor did not cower before him, there was just a semblance of deference in his voice. If the other man wanted to take her away from her captor, he would order it. It would be difficult for the man to refuse. Only if he desired her above all things would he put up a fight. It was her only hope.
His desire for her had overcome his instincts for self-preservation three times in the last three days. It needed to work one more time. He was going to take her upstairs and fuck her soon. She needed to make sure that it was the best he ever had.
So she stood there patiently, even though the act of burying her nose in the corner, having her bare back and bare ass displayed, put away like you would a dog, made her shake with shame. And yet, the idea of her helplessness, the very fact of her shame itself, her fear filled need to give abject deference to any of the man’s humiliating whims, coupled with the fact that in a short while he would place his hands and lips on her again, pierce her with his steely, remorseless cock, made her lusts begin to burn.
After about the fifth shot, Jack started feeling very woozy. He was not used to so much booze. Stitch was still going strong, but Jack had had enough. He looked over at the girl. She was standing still, silently, just as she had been ordered. Her conjoined hands rested just atop the demarcation of the divide between her pale white buttocks. Her fingers rested, intermingled. She was still wearing the sandals he had adorned her with this morning. They made her ass rise up nicely. Her short, fiery red hair blended nicely with the copper colored tiles of the floor and walls.
In the other corner was the other girl. She had a fine ass too and slender legs. Her whole naked back could be seen since her hands were joined in front of her. Her black hair came down to the middle of her back. Jack had only gotten a short glimpse of her, but he recalled her being stacked well. Her ass was plumper than the girl’s and begged for the kiss of a riding crop or a lash. Fucking it would be heaven.
For a moment, he toyed with the idea of making a swap with Stitch. He could take the girl, Carly, see, he could remember her name now, and Jack would take the black haired girl. It might be fun to fuck someone new.
But no, there was really no contest. He would be a fool not to fuck the girl again. This might be his last night with her. Probably would be. Although maybe, just maybe, he could talk the Mexican who was coming tomorrow to let him bring her with him. There were all kinds of practical issues with that like where would he keep her until he got set up an all, but it might be just possible.
Part of him wondered what it would be like to let go of her. She had epitomized everything right about his escape until now, had been the physical embodiment of it, the grand prize he had seized. Would his luck run out when she was gone? Would he pine for her like some love-struck fool? Or would he come back to his senses, remember that she was just one cunt among a long line of cunts from the past and, hopefully, in the future?
Why should he feel about her the way he did? She was hot, yeah, but there were plenty of hot young sluts out there. He bet that he could make the black haired one screech with passion before the night was out if he picked her instead. No, it was more than just the fact that she was hot. It was the way she looked at him when she was eating on her knees, that look that combined sultriness and hostility. It was the way she sobbed when he was done with her, so vulnerable and destitute. It was her obedience, so complete, and how she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, but did so when he ordered it, filling up with tears and her body trembling. It was the precise size and heft of her breasts and the taste of her pussy. She was the one who could not be replaced. No other woman would be just like her. No woman could ever be better. It would be a shame if he lost her. A real shame.
“Hey,” Jack told Stitch, “I’m hitting the hay.”
Stitch looked at him. “You want Maureen, here?” He asked Jack. “She’d make a great threesome.”
“Not tonight,” Jack answered. “Which room should I take?”
“The first one down on the right. It’s usually my room, but I got it all fixed up for you. There’s all the amenities, a shower, a nice big, fully supplied bathroom, towels, toothbrushes and a king sized bed. There’s even a cage in the closet if you don’t want to sleep with your honey there. Just shut the door and it’s, ‘See you tomorrow!’” He laughed.
Jack ignored the humor. He was going to ask where Stitch was going to sleep but decided he didn’t give a fuck. He eased the chair back and then carefully pushed himself to his feet. The room didn’t spin so much as kind of wobble. It took him a second to catch himself. He went to the corner and took hold of the girl’s hair, pulling her back and then pushing her forward. They went back through the swinging kitchen door. The music from the party became louder right away. Jack tried to scoot by unnoticed over to the stairs, but it was not to be. One of the men called out, “Here’s Jack!” and several pairs of eyes turned to look at him.
“Hey Jack,” the man he remembered as Chaz said enthusiastically. “Ya gotta come here and see this!”
A syrupy country song was playing. Here and there people were passed out. A few of the men were still ensconced with the party girls. A group of four of them were circled around a woman bent over a hassock with a man who Jack recognized as Billy Boots on top of her. Jack drew closer. The couple was facing him. The woman had her wrists fastened to a ring in the front of a leather collar around her neck. She had short blond hair. Billy Boots was easing himself in and out of her rear entrance. She was moaning unhappily.
“Jack, meet Special Agent Linda Kramer of the FBI,” Chaz said. “She’s been detailed to capture you.” There were laughs all around.
“Ike caught her nosing around his bar yesterday. I don’t think she’ll be nosing around anymore,” Chaz continued.
Jack looked at the woman. A surge of anger went through him. Here was one of the people who were trying to put him back in a cage. She issued another moan as Billy pushed his cock deep into her bowels. He looked up at Jack. He had an evil smile on his face. He hadn’t bothered to undress. His cock was protruding from his unzipped jeans. “Give me a few minutes and you can have a turn with her, Jack,” he said. “Her bung hole is nice and tight.”
He leaned back and took hold of the hair behind the woman’s head, lifting her face up to look at Jack. “Hey, fuckface,” he said, “say hello to Blackjack Jackson. I think you were looking for him. Now you’ve found him.”
The woman looked at Jack miserably. Her face was awash with tears.
To Jack, she epitomized the forces that were trying to hem him in, to return him to captivity and, if not, to kill him. A fierce impulse within him made him want to smash his fist into her. It was sure tempting. He held himself back and let the surge of anger subside. He had better things to do than to fuck with this cunt, he thought. “Maybe tomorrow,” Jack said. “Right now I’ve got something else on my mind. Just save me a little piece of her.”
“Sure, Jack,” Billy said, amused. “We won’t use her all up. She’s going to Mexico tomorrow and we want her all in one piece for that.” He shook her head. “Ever been to Mexico, honey?” he asked her sarcastically. “I’m sure you’re going to love it.” He laughed and released her hair. Her unhappy face fell. Billy resumed his traverse of her ass, picking up the pace a bit.
“Hurry up, Billy,” one of the other men said. “I want a shot at her.”
Jack stepped away, bringing the girl with him.
As he led her up the stairs, Carly thought unhappily about the fate of the FBI agent. Here was someone who had been sent to try and rescue her. And even she was powerless to resist the men’s depredations. If they were audacious enough to kidnap an FBI agent, what hope of rescue or escape did she have?
They came to one of the doors at the top of the stairs, the one the man down in the kitchen had talked about. The man opened it, pulling the door outwards and then brought her in.
The room was large, about 20’ by 30’. There was a king sized bed head into the wall on their left. It was covered with clean looking, light blue, satin sheets. In the middle of the headboard, just above the large, fluffy pillows, was an embedded brass ring. A chain led from it to a little pile in the middle of the bed. There were rings in the footboard too, two of them, near each corner, and chains connected to them led to the floor.
Straight ahead was a wide and tall, boarded up window. Underneath was a long, dark oak credenza. In the corner, a chain dangled from the ceiling. Several whips were mounted on the wall behind it. Just seeing them made Carly cringe with fear.
