Klitzman's Paradise (The Klitzman Stories)

by Paul Blades

  With a smile of immense satisfaction, Creeper poised his cock for entry into the woman’s gaping womb. He held her legs up above her with one hand and guided his tool to its target. He entered her easily and he sighed loudly as the meat pushed her nether lips aside. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” he groaned as he penetrated the girl to the hilt.

  “Nyah…” was all the response Jana could give him. It was odd how she could feel everything that the man did to her but couldn’t move a single muscle. She felt his tool scraping the sides of her canal and tears started to flow down her face. How could this be happening? Why was this happening?

  It didn’t take long for the band manager to raise his lusts high. The excitement of the moment, his long wait for the chance at completion, the thrill of fucking this beautiful woman, all brought his passion to the boil. When he felt his cock begin to throb, he pulled it abruptly from the woman’s sheath and, holding it with his hand, encouraged the release of his cum with a steady, rapid stroke. He aimed it at the face of the paralyzed woman. The first spurt hit the side of her face, next to her nose. He altered his aim slightly and the next landed in the middle of her forehead, just above her eyes. As the force of his ejaculations weakened, he dumped his load on her nose, lips and chin. And then he was done.

  Creeper stood bent over the woman for a few moments, catching his breath, milking the last few drops of his sperm from his skinny cock. He looked at the cum covered face of his victim. He laughed. “You’re a mess, Jana,” he said.

  The boys all decided that it was time to get some rest. The rock music, which had been blaring loudly all the while, was turned off. Slaughter had gotten some more rope and he decided to try out a tie he had seen in a magazine on Miriam. While Deke held the sobbing girl in place, he fastened the middle of the thin cord around her wrists behind her. Then he ran the two ends over her shoulders, one on each side of her neck and down between her legs. He crossed the girl’s ankles and tied them together, pulling on the cord sharply until her arms were driven up high on her back. Miriam’s mouth was free and she protested the cruel binding. “Please, you’re hurting me! Please!”

  Slaughter gave the girl a mighty slap on her ass, leaving a dark red imprint of his hand.

  “Owwwwwwww!” the girl yelled.

  “Shut the fuck up, cunt!” Slaughter castigated her. Her shoulders ached from the tension on the cord. The two lines leading from her wrists ran on each side of her pussy, squashing the tender lips together. Her breasts were crushed against her thighs and any little movement caused her arms to rise higher, exacerbating her pain.

  “Oh, please don’t leave me like this, please,” Miriam begged. Slaughter gave her another strenuous slap. The ‘crack!’ of the blow resounded throughout the passenger compartment. “Shut your fucking face, slimehole!” the cruel man told her vehemently as the girl screamed and wailed. He turned to Deke. “Where’s that fucking rag?”

  Deke picked up the panties that had been in Miriam’s mouth a short while ago and handed them to Slaughter. “Open your blow hole, bitch, or I’ll smash your face in!” he told her.

  Miriam, whimpering, shivering with fear and unhappiness, obediently parted her lips. Slaughter stuffed the panties in. “And keep them in there, slut!” he yelled. “If ya spit it out, I’m going to break your nose, got it!”

  Miriam nodded dolefully.

  Roxanne had been awoken by the loud taunts of the drummer and the anguished cries of her friend. She saw her two companions cruelly bound and began to cry all over again. Slaughter looked over at her. “Oh, I’ve got something special for you,” he told her tauntingly. The black haired girl crawled over to the corner of the room, vainly trying to escape whatever the brazenly tattooed man had in store for her. “Oh, please don’t tie me up, please,” she whimpered. “I’ll do whatever you say. Please.”

  “Get over here, cunt,” the drummer commanded. Seeing the futility of resistance, Roxanne crawled over to him on her hands and knees. The girl suppressed a whine, biting her lower lip with her teeth. Her long, black hair fell around her head.

  “Get me some more rope,” Slaughter ordered the guitarist and Deke complied, pulling a long length of cord from the special cabinet they kept on the plane. “And bring me two of them gags.”

  The boys had had fun on the plane before.

  Roxanne trembled when she saw the thick wad of leather attached to a wide belt. “Ohhhh,” she moaned. What was happening here, she thought. Why were these men being so cruel?

  Slaughter took one of the gags and tapping her on her cheek forcefully, ordered her to open her mouth. She was kneeling like a supplicant before him and he pushed the thick plug past her lips. The belt was tied tightly behind her head.

  “Now sit back and give me your hands,” he ordered. Roxanne obeyed unhappily. The tattoo covered biker took the girl’s thin right arm and brought it outside her right leg and then under it. He tied it off to the inside of her ankle. He then ran the rope twice around her waist, pulling it tight, drawing her ankle up close to her body. The other end was used to tie her left wrist to the inside of her left ankle. The result was to force her to sit up, her back arched forwards and her legs spread. The presence of her arms under her legs made it impossible for her to close her thighs.

  Slaughter paused to appreciate the product of his skills. Roxanne’s beauteous breasts were not large and billowy like Miriam’s, but ample, firm and round. Her areolas were dark and her nipples, long and slim. He placed his hand between her legs and slid a thick finger the length of her unprotected gash. Roxanne frantically tried to close her legs, but the positioning of her arms and wrists kept them forcefully apart. She whined from behind her gag as she realized her helplessness. Tears fell from her eyes as she looked pleadingly at her captor.

  Max, his legendary cock drooping between his thighs, looked on with admiration. “You’re getting good at this, Slaughter.”

  “Yeah,” he said, proudly. “And if you want to fuck her, all you have to do is push her over.” He demonstrated by giving Roxanne a harsh push to her chest. She rolled over onto her back, bringing her legs up into the air. Her black bearded slit was rudely displayed. Slaughter and Max laughed.

  “In fact,” Max said, “I think that I’ll give her another shot right now.”

  While the other men threw back a night cap and prepared themselves for sleep in the plush, reclining arm chairs, Max pleasured his long, thick cock in Roxanne’s tight pussy. She cried and moaned the whole time, rebelling at the sensations brought to her by the hard meat plowing her hole. She had never felt so helpless or so violated. She closed her eyes and shook her head side to side in frustration and misery. She yearned to expel her pussy’s cruel intruder. But Max’s cock kept hammering at her like a machine. She could hear his gleeful grunts as he worked towards his pleasure.

  Max finished quickly and, after catching his breath and sliding his softening meat from inside her, brought the girl back to a sitting position. Roxanne, her pussy still hot from Max’s abuse looked up at him with tearful, saddened eyes. She murmured a plea from behind her gag. Max looked down at the naked and bound young woman, smiled, patted her on the head and went to bed.

  Creeper had tied off Jana’s legs so that they were draped over the sides of her chair and had tied her arms to the arm rests. “Just in case,” he said, caressing the reporter’s exposed slit until it was again moist and loose. “Tomorrow, we’ll fuck some more,” he promised her. He got up, crossed the passenger compartment, dimmed the lights in the cabin and then took his place in his chair, leaning it back and covering himself with a light blanket. He was soon asleep.

  The four women lay awake in the semidarkness woefully contemplating their experiences of the last hour or so. Daphne had awoken to find her self bound and gagged. She whined and struggled until Slaughter came over and gave her a strenuous kick in the side telling her to “Shut the fuck up!” Now that the music had been turned off, the only sounds in the cabin were the faint noise of the jet engines laboring to take
them to their unknown destination, the sniffling and soft sobs of the unhappy girls, and the snoring of the men.

  Daphne and Miriam eventually succumbed to sleep. Even Jana nodded off, mercifully allowing her to escape temporarily from cruel reality. But Roxanne, fixed in her sitting position, her back arched painfully, her hips and shoulders aching, found it impossible to sleep. Her mind raced through the various aspects of her predicament. No one knew where she was. She and the girls had been told not to let anyone know about their date with the stars and they had foolishly complied. It was a Friday night and, with no work tomorrow or Sunday, no one would miss her until she failed to show for her 7:30 A.M. shift at the toothpaste factory. Her body felt despoiled by the double deposit of Max’s spunk inside her and she felt shamed about how easily the men had enticed her and her friends with the booze and the blow.

  Most of all, she worried about what the men were going to do with them. She was afraid that after they had finished abusing them that they would all be killed. They certainly couldn’t risk releasing them and having them tell their stories to the world. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to be free, wanted to live the life that she had planned. She thought of her mother and other loved ones that she would never see again and how her family would be desperate and frantic when they found out that she had disappeared. She tried to free her limbs from their bonds, twisting and turning her wrists, straining to extend her legs, but the evil drummer had tied them off expertly. And where would she go anyway? What would she do?

  She hated the rude gag that silenced her. She chewed and ground her teeth on it. It reminded her of how the bandleader’s cock had been in her mouth and that she had let him put it there, proudly accepting his discharge. How foolish and naïve she and the other girls had been. And she thought about her exposed, defenseless sex, how casually Max had pushed her over and gained access to her. Any one of the men could wake up now and fuck her and she wouldn’t even have the opportunity to struggle. And she knew that they would fuck her. All of them would. They would take turns with all the girls. She imagined Slaughter’s cruel face peering back into hers, his evil grin, as he plowed her furrow. And maybe they would make her take it up the ass, like he had done Miriam. And she thought of her naked breasts, hanging free from her chest in her bent over position, how they would seem enticing and inviting to the men in the morning.

  All this ran through her mind a hundred times, a hundred different ways. She tried not to cry, but every once in a while the tears would begin to flow again. “Why me?” she thought. “Why me?”

  Gradually, after many hours, the morning light began to shine in through the small windows of the passenger compartment. The soft light made even stranger the vision of the other bound women. As the room gradually drew brighter, she knew that she was coming closer and closer to when the men would awake and her torments begin anew. A wave of misery passed through her. She gave a great sob and hung her head.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A HERO’S WELCOME

  I lay down in the thick jungle forest, about thirty feet away from where the women were hitched, for what seemed to be hours, waiting for Nick and his boys to return. I had one of the automatic rifles with me and a canteen of water. I figured that if any of the bad guys came back, they would head for the females and I would have a chance of picking them off. They would be easy to find since they continued, intermittently, to sob and whine and attempt to call out from behind their taped mouths. I realized that they were probably thirsty and hungry, but I didn’t want to take the chance of leaving my hiding spot until I knew everything was clear.

  It was about two hours later that I heard some heavy feet walking along the jungle road. It was as dark as a coal bin. I could just about make out the shapes of the females around the tree. Deep, low voices came closer. I slid off the safety to the AK-47 and drew a deep breath.

  “Harry?” a heavy, baritone voice called out. “You out there?”

  It was Nick. I shouted out a reply and emerged from my little observation post. A bright flashlight shone in my eyes.

  “Hey, Harry,” Nick said. “You ok?”

  “I’ll be better when we can get the fuck out of here,” I replied.

  “Spoken like a true hero, Harry,” Nick riposted, laughing.

  He had another good laugh when he saw the three trussed up women. “Not taking any chances, I see,” he commented.

  I saw the lights go on from the lead Land Rover and the engine roar to life. Nick’s men began the job of clearing the tree trunks from the road.

  “I’ll bet these ladies have to piss like racehorses,” Nick commented. “Give me a hand.”

  Nick unlocked the legs of the tall, naked Ms. Meyers and led her a few feet from the tree. “Squat,” he told her. As soon as she did, a hard stream of water emerged from her loins. I unhooked the feet of the blond girl and walked her away a few feet. Well, she couldn’t pee with her pants on and so I told her to lie on the ground. When she did, I unbuckled the belt to her jeans and tugged her tight blue jeans and her underwear off of her hips and down her legs. She protested meekly as I did so.

  It was difficult to imagine what was going through these girls’ minds. Kidnapped, finding themselves in the middle of a Wild West shootout and then the hours of waiting, all the time cut off from any real knowledge about what was going on by their black hoods. And now this girl was being stripped. “Calm down, calm down,” I told the struggling blond girl. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  This seemed to calm her a little. I removed her boots and then slid the jeans and underwear off the rest of the way. She had a pretty blond bush between her legs, draping plump labial lips. I pulled her to her feet by her arms and told her to piss. She squatted in front of me, spreading her legs and released a long flow of water. Her pants were wet from when she had peed in panic back at the compound and I didn’t see any purpose in putting them back on her. Besides, it was dark and I really just didn’t want to fuck around with it.

  Nick was removing the pants of the auburn haired young girl and I heard him shout out at her, “Cut the crap, bitch!” and a loud slap. She apparently had taken the opportunity to try and fight off her assailant. She shrieked behind her hood and was slapped again. Then there was silence.

  The men had finished clearing the tree trunks and we were ready to get on our way. The females were loaded onto the trucks along with the dead bodies of our friends and Dr. Svenberg, and we recommenced our return to the landing field. Nick had called in our ‘problem’ on his cell phone and when we arrived about two hours later, the chopper was there waiting.

  The going out had been slower than the way in. Even with the headlights of the vehicles, the roughness of the road in the darkness required extra caution. The girls were back in the seat behind me. The headlights of the vehicle behind us gave me a chance for a close up view of their charms. Before, I could tell the girls apart from their hair that was sticking out from under their hoods. But now, I could see their furry little bushes between their legs. They rode with their legs tightly clamped together in a futile effort at modesty, but they could not fully obscure their curly hair at the top of their love triangles. The blonde’s breasts were a little bigger than the redhead’s. Her shirt and bra were still stuffed above them and they swayed and shook admirably as they recorded each and every bump and twist in the road. She had thick, short nipples, each surrounded by a pale, wide areola.

  The redhead’s nipples were like tiny dots on the tip of her breasts. Her areolas were dark and smaller than the blonde’s. Her breasts were a little less round, less full, but ample for her slight frame. She was nearest me and I resisted the impulse to stroke and cup them.

  The small field was well lit when we arrived and the men who were waiting cast approving eyes on the naked and almost naked women as we escorted them from the trucks to the helicopter. Their ankles were still manacled and they had to take little baby steps to get there. A man inside the aircraft helped lift them up inside. Dr. Svenberg
’s body followed. Eventually, someone would come along and find the bodies that we had left behind on the trial, but Svenberg’s would not be one of them. It was fairly certain that he had merely met his fate a little early, since I couldn’t conceive of Klitzman having any use for him. In fact, it was probably merciful since someone somewhere may have wanted him to pay for his sins in a more prolonged, painful manner.

  Before I got in the chopper, Nick’s men surrounded me and gleefully expressed their admiration and thanks for my decisive actions back on the road. There was no question that if I hadn’t acted, albeit from fear of death, we would all be somewheres trying to argue our way out of long sentences in hell. Nick clapped me on the back and motioned for me to get in. I climbed the step and took my seat on the floor.

  The helicopter took off without incident. After a short while, I saw Nick take out his long, broad knife and cut the remnants of the girls’ clothing from them. It would be a long time until they would wear anything else. About ten miles out from the mainland, he got up and slid the helicopter door open. We were over a large, open expanse of water. He dragged Svenberg’s body to the edge of the door and then pulled his girlfriend over. He untied the black bag over the woman’s head and pointed her head down so that she could see her lover’s body.

  The light inside the helicopter was faint, but I could see the misery in the woman’s eyes as she took in the bloody form of the doctor. Tears sprung to her eyes and she looked up with hatred at me and Nick. Her long hair was matted and tangled. She was trying to say something from behind her taped lips; undoubtedly a communication intended to convey her misery and anger and casting aspersions on our morality and sense of fair play. Nick laughed and, after removing the handcuffs and manacles which were still on it, gave Dr. Svenberg’s body a kick. It tumbled out the door.

  The moon was out in all its glory and I looked out the door to watch the lifeless form tumble and turn as it fell through the air behind us. We were pretty high up, but I could see the small splash that it made as it hit the water. So much for a life dedicated to truth, justice and freedom. The woman Judy was sobbing uncontrollably. Nick slid the door shut and tied the black bag back over her head.