by Paul Blades
The booze was making his mind foggy and thick. It filled him with self-pity and remorse and shame. He knew that these things, this hatred, this anger, were what he was supposed to feel, what he needed to feel. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of personal tragedy that was filling him. The girl was his last, best chance at recovering his humanity. And she was gone. Other men would have her. Other men would fuck her and she would fuck them. The thought of it filled him with a deep, deep sorrow. It would have been better to have done the job on her like he had wanted to.
But he couldn’t even do that now since this Morales guy would take it as an insult. He would pay the price for it and all this struggle, all the years of planning and endurance, seeking only what he now had proffered to him, which lay at his feet just waiting for him to pick it up, would go to waste.
He would have to go on without her. Maybe, like Stitch said, in a week or two, he could forget her, forget what might have been. Life had handed him another shit sandwich and he had no choice but to eat it.
“Ahhhhhhh, fuck it!” Jack said morosely.
“That’s the spirit, Jack,” Stitch said. “Hey, I got an idea,” he continued, “I got to feed and service the stock downstairs. Why don’t you give me a hand? It’ll take your mind off of everything.”
Anything seemed better to Jack than sitting around mooning about the girl. “Sound’s good,” he replied.
Stitch got up from his chair and went to pick up the 5 steel, shiny, doggy bowls from the floor, stacking them up on one another. He brought them to the sink.
“I had Maureen all trained to do this stuff, but I don’t think we’ll be seeing too much of her anymore,” he said as he began to rinse the bowls in the sink. “When the new girls come, I’ll pick one out to give me a hand with things. Morales will probably be dropping off some Mexican cunt tonight for us to sell down the line. I might just take one for permanent duty here. I’m tired of breaking in a new girl every few months.”
He had all the bowls rinsed and stacked in the dish rack. He turned to the stove. There was a big pot there that had been simmering all the time since before Jack came into the room. Stitch picked up a big wooden spoon and gave it a stir. Satisfied, he grabbed two dishtowels and took hold of the handles on the pot.
“Grab two of those bowls for me willya,” he asked Jack. “And follow me.”
Jack did as was bid. Stitch led him back into the main room and then off to a door on the side. It was large and steel encased with a large, brass dead bolt lock on it. Stitch put down the pot, took a ring of keys from his pocket, picked one out, and unlocked the door. Jack held the door open for him as he picked up the pot and walked through it.
There was a small landing and then a set of coarse, steep, wooden stairs that went straight down. Stitch led Jack down them to the bottom. He led Jack to another door constructed of thick wood planks. It had a big brass deadlock like the other but also a steel plate with a large padlock. Stitch put his pot down again and unlocked them both. He flicked on the light inside the next room from a switch just outside the door. He swung the door open and Jack preceded him in.
The room was large, about 40’ by 50’. It had a floor made up of thick slabs of stone. The walls were made of stone too, rough pieces, joined together with cement. The ceiling was about 10’ high and crisscrossed by heavy beams. There were no windows.
It was cool inside, almost cold, and damp. The room had a musty smell. There was a row of cages along two of the walls, five in each row. Four of them were filled by blinking, startled, naked women. They were distributed evenly amongst the cages so that no two were adjacent to each other. The women’s feet were bound together with a 6” long chain and were connected to their wrists, which had been locked behind their backs. They all wore leather shield gags that covered their faces from just under their noses to over their chins. They looked very unhappy.
Two of the women were very young, 18 or maybe 19. One had midlength, wheat colored blond hair and the other long brown hair that reached below her shoulders. The other two cages contained the woman Jack had kidnapped and the FBI lady. Jack took note of the excellent security. To get out, the girls would first have to figure out a way to undo their chains. Then they would have to figure out a way to get out of their cages. And then they would have to figure out a way to get through the double locked door. They would have to do this in absolute darkness since the light switch was outside the door. The chance of escape was just about nil.
Stitch put the pot down just inside the doorway and took hold of a three foot long pole-like object that was hanging on the wall just to the outside of the door. Jack recognized it as an electric prod. He stepped back into the room and closed the door, locking the deadbolt.
“Now who’s going to go first?” Stitch said lightly. He walked over to the cage that held the young, blond girl. “I guess you,” he said. He took out the ring of keys again and unlocked her cage. He turned on the prod and it made a ‘beep!’, signaling it was ready. He swung the door to the cage open and prodded the girl with the pole without pulling the trigger.
“Come on out now, honey,” he told her. “Give me any trouble and you’ll get a blast from this, understand?”
The girl morosely nodded her head.
The cage was not quite tall enough for her to kneel up at full length. She rose to her knees, bending her head over, and started to shuffle out. Her skin was pale and she was finely shaped. Her breasts were heavy and they swayed nicely as she moved. She kept her eyes fixed warily on the two men. They were moistened as if the girl was fighting off tears.
When she was out of the cage, Stitch closed the door behind her and then released her wrists from her feet. He then unhooked the chain between her ankles.
“Get up,” he said.
The girl struggled to her feet. “Okay, now like I taught you, up and down, up and down until I say stop.”
The girl began to a series of slow, unsteady knee bends.
“That’s it,” Stitch told her. “Feet wider apart.”
To Jack he said, “These two have been down here almost a week. I like to exercise them a little so that they don’t get all cramped up. Otherwise, when it’s time for them to go, you gotta carry them up the stairs.”
Jack could see the wisdom of Stitch’s routine for the girls. They had done something similar back in the old days in Wausau. Jack counted 20 knee bends when Stitch told the girl to stop. There was an anxiousness in her face which went beyond her fear. She was breathing heavy through her nose.
“Okay,” Stitch told her, “over here.”
Jack noticed a chemical toilet in the corner of the room. The naked girl scooted over to it quickly. She sat down without waiting for permission and a moment or two later, Jack heard the sound of her water hitting the chemical pool below her. She issued a relieved sigh.
Stitch motioned the girl up with the prod. She stood up from the toilet and, without being told, bent over and spread her legs. There was a roll of toilet paper on the wall and Stitch took out a nice length and wiped the girl’s pussy clean with it. “You don’t want them to get a rash or anything,” he commented in explanation. “I keep ‘em nice and clean so that when we turn them over they’re in tip top shape. Later, I’ll give ‘em all a nice enema so that they’re all cleaned out for their trip.”
Stitch tossed the paper into the toilet. “Okay, now girl, over here,” he ordered. The girl walked unsteadily over to a shower head which jutted out from the wall. There was a drain built into the floor underneath it. On a shelf were soap, shampoo, some towels and a pile of washcloths. Stitch turned the water on and regulated its flow until it was coming out warm.
“It’ll speed things up if you give ‘em a shower while I feed ‘em,” he told Jack.
“No problem,” Jack replied. He handed the bowls he had been carrying to Stitch and then addressed the girl. “Turn around,” he told her curtly. She obeyed without question. He undid the straps that held her gag in tight and removed it from h
er mouth, putting it down on the shelf. He then unlocked her hands from behind her back and, after coaxing the girl under the stream of water with a little push, attached them to a chain that hung down from the ceiling from above the shower head. The chain had enough slack that the girl’s hands were held up around her chest.
The water cascaded over the girl. Jack let her get good and wet and then pulled her by the elbow until she was outside the flow of water. He rinsed a washcloth and then soaped it up.
There was a commotion over by the cages that drew Jack’s attention. Stitch was speaking harshly to the brown haired girl.
“You’re a fucking pig!” he told her angrily. “This is the second time you pissed your cage!” The girl was still huddling within the cage’s confines. Her eyes were large and pleading. Stitch pressed the prod against her belly and pulled the trigger. There was a loud ‘crack!’ and the girl released a muffled scream from behind her gag. Stitch pushed the prod up against her again. The girl let out a muffled plea for mercy, but Stitch pulled the trigger again. Her body jumped inside the cage and she screeched.
“Once more for good measure!” Stitch said angrily. The girl was curled up and scrunched against the far wall of the cage as far as she could go. She was sobbing. Stitch thrust the prod between her legs. She shouted a desperate plea and a second later the prod spoke again, issuing another loud ‘crack!’ within the room. The girl’s body cringed and she released a horrible wail.
Stitch gave her a few seconds to regain her equilibrium and then ordered her to get out. Weeping and wailing, the girl obeyed. “The next time, there’ll be a whipping,” he told the girl as she took up a kneeling stance in front of him, her body shaking, tears flowing down her face. “I don’t care if it gets you all marked up,” Stitch added. “I won’t have a pig like you dirtying up my cages!” He pushed the prod against the girl’s chest. “Got it?” he demanded harshly.
The girl nodded desperately, cringing from contact with the heinous instrument.
“Okay, then,” Stitch said, “as long as we understand each other.”
He went to release the girl’s ankles from her wrists and Jack went back to his task at hand. The blond haired girl, dripping wet, was looking at him unhappily. Tears had flowed down her face too. Jack reckoned that she and the other girl were friends. Well, that was too bad. They’d undoubtedly be separated once sold off. It didn’t due for a girl to have too close a friend where she was going. It fomented conspiracies to escape.
Jack squeezed the excess water from the washcloth and began to wash the girl’s body. It was soft and pliant. He spread the soap over her delightful breasts and taut, flat belly. She still wore the evidence of her maturity around her sex and he washed that too, letting a nice lather work up amidst the hairs. He had her spread her legs and washed her crack thoroughly.
He couldn’t help think of the girl upstairs and the times that he had washed her. He tried to put out of his mind what she was undoubtedly doing now. He pushed the blond haired girl roughly so that her back was towards him and he rubbed the cloth over her rear cheeks and the split between them, making sure that he probed deep her little rear hole. The girl whined when he did it and he told her, gruffly, to shut up.
When he had finished doing her back and legs, he made her stand under the flowing water again. He watched her as she rinsed off. The girl, his girl, had been blond too when he had first got her, he thought unhappily. Their bodies were similar. This one was maybe a tad taller. He could almost pretend that it was her. Carly. That was her name. He wished that he had not remembered it. Knowing her name, recalling it, would not help him forget her.
He let the girl rinse off and then made sure that she got her hair all wet. He brought her back out of the flow of water and shampooed her hair. When the soap was all washed out, he put her back under and then poured some cream rinse into her hair. He had her rinse that out and then pulled her from the shower. He quickly dried off her head and body with one of the towels and then brushed her hair until it was straight.
He released her hands from the chain. There was a tube of toothpaste and a couple of worn toothbrushes on the shelf. He spread some toothpaste on the brush and handed it to the girl. She looked at him dolefully and then went to work. He let her go one for about a minute and then took the toothbrush away from her. She spat the foamy whiteness onto the drain. There was a cup on the shelf and Jack took it, filled it from the shower and gave it to the girl. Obediently, she rinsed out her mouth and then spat it out. She handed the cup back to Jack.
Picking up the gag, he took hold of the girl by her elbow and turned back toward the cages. Stitch was standing there watching the brown haired girl consume her meal. Her legs were spread and she was bent over with her face into one of the shiny, silvery bowls he had brought down. Stitch had her gag in his hand.
Jack had the blond girl kneel on the floor outside of her cage.
“All right, that’s enough,” Stitch told the brown haired girl. She brought her face up from the bowl. It was smeared with the brown sauce of the stew.
Jack watched as Stitch slid the bowl with his foot over to where the blond girl knelt. He pulled the pot he had brought down over to it and then ladled another large ration of stew into the slivery bowl. “Okay, get to work,” he told the blond girl.
Jack washed the brown haired girl while the blond girl ate. She was thinner and taller than the blond girl. Her tits were smaller, but still firm and ripe. Jack lingered over them as he washed them. Her nipples stiffened as he handled them. He wondered what it would be like to fuck her.
Ultimately, finding a new bitch to fuck and torment on a regular basis was the only recipe for forgetting about his former captive. When he had the girl turn around and did her back, he noticed that her ass was small and a little boney near the hips. It wouldn’t be her he would be picking out. He liked them with a little bit of padding back there. But someone would like her and within a few days, maybe less than 24 hours, this girl would be fucking any and all comers, and doing it with sincere enthusiasm if she knew what was good for her. He gave her ass a harsh swat as he ordered her back under the water. She screeched unhappily and obeyed.
When he was done with the brown haired girl, Stitch had the blond girl all bound up back in her cage. The Ramirez woman was out and eating obediently. He had already let her pee. Both dog dishes were on the floor in front of her, one containing her ration of stew and the other about 2 cups of water.
“Enough,” Stitch told her. “Now drink the water.” The woman looked up at him resentfully but dutifully shifted her attentions to the liquid.
Jack had already stuffed the gag back into the brown haired girl’s mouth. He was about to put her back in her cage when Stitch told him to give her a chance to pee first. “I didn’t give her any water, so maybe she’ll behave herself this time,” he said. “But see if she can go anyway.”
He took her over to the toilet, now loaded up with yellowish-green fluid and sat her down. The girl strained and strained and finally a thin stream emerged. Her eyes conveyed her relief.
When he brought the girl back, Stitch had the Ramirez woman ready for him. He took custody of the brown haired girl. There was a 5 gallon steel pail on the floor with a strong smelling cleaning liquid in it along with a rag. Stitch unhooked the brown haired girl’s wrists from behind her back and told her to clean out her cage. Sadness in her eyes, the girl sank to her knees, wrung out the rag in the pail and went to work. Jack took the Ramirez woman over to the shower.
She had a mature body compared to the other girls. Her breasts were just a little less firm and her flesh a little plumper and softer, small layers of fat where the other girl’s had muscle. There was something about it that attracted Jack. Ike had said that he would suggest to that Morales fellow that Jack keep custody of her until she was ransomed. That might be a very nice thing, Jack thought as he handled her body.
He was getting hornier and hornier from handling all this female flesh. It made him think of
the girl upstairs. Everything was reminding him of her. It made him angry. Who was she to have this kind of effect on him? “I should have killed her,” he thought. He was probing the Ramirez woman’s tiny rear aperture with the washcloth, a fresh one for each girl, and he did it with just a little more force than he did the other ones. The woman cried out.
Jack took hold of her long black hair and shook her head harshly. “Shut the fuck up!” he told her angrily.
“Please! Please!” the woman called out. “My husband will pay! He has plenty of money! Please! Please don’t hurt me!”
Jack spun the woman around and slapped her fiercely across the face. It jerked her head back and she screamed.
“I told you to shut the fuck up!” Jack yelled at her. He turned to Stitch. “Give me that prod,” he barked. Stitch walked it over to him. The FBI agent was on her knees eating her meal.
Jack took hold of the prod and released the woman. She began to back away from him, her bound hands held up before her, desperately seeking to ward off contact with the prod. “Please don’t! Please! Please!” she called out. “I’ll be good! I’ll be quiet! Please! Please!”
She was backed up against the wall and had nowhere else to go. Her face was a mask of fear. Tears were flowing down her face. Her hands were held up before her.
Jack paused for a second and then thrust the prod quickly towards her. It made contact on her belly, just above her black haired, shrouded sex. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! Nooooooooooo!” the woman screamed. Jack pulled the trigger. “Crack!”
“Ayieeeeyahhhhhhhhhhh!” the woman called out. Her body shuddered and banged up against the wall. She bent over double and then fell to her knees.
