by Paul Blades
When we arrived at the island, there was a small reception committee waiting for us. Rukimo and Anthony were sitting, waiting, in an open topped SUV. Nick hopped out first and Anthony came over with Rukimo and they shook hands. When I emerged, Rukimo had a big smile on his coal black face. “Harry the hero!” he announced as he shook my hand.
“I’m no hero, Mr. Rukimo,” I answered. I always called him mister even though he had told me several times not to. I figured if he ever decided to skin me alive he might remember my politeness and slit my throat instead.
“That’s not what I heard,” he replied. “Nick told us everything. That was quick thinking and sharp shooting.”
“Well I don’t know about that. Usually I can’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
“Well, it was close in work, Harry, your specialty.” The females were being unloaded behind us. Anthony went over and took stock of them. They all flinched as he took the liberty of squeezing their breasts. He turned to me. “Very good work, Harry. I heard that you flushed these two pretty things from their hiding place. It would’ve been a bad business if they had been left behind. And I think that we’ll be able to put them to some very good use.”
As I looked at their naked forms, I realized that these were the first women that I had had a role in bringing to Klitzman’s little resort. I had helped break in a few newbies, but up to now the enslavement of the women I abused had been somebody else’s doing. If they weren’t being fucked or abused by me, they would’ve been fucked or abused by somebody else. I added to their miserable fate only microscopically. But these women I had the opportunity to set free and I had blown it.
“Just doing my job,” I replied.
Anthony perused the attributes of Ms. Meyers. “This cunt’s a little long in the tooth,” he said as he pinched her small, pointy orbs. “And no tits to speak of.” He paused as if weighing whether she should be accepted into our club for women or thrown back, probably into shark infested waters. The thin, shapely woman moaned in pain and tried to back away from her unknown assailant. Anthony held her tits fast. “But I’m sure we’ll find a use for her. All in all a good day’s work. For you too, Nick.”
Nick made a small bow in appreciation of the acknowledgment.
“The boss wants to see you guys,” Rukimo told us. “And bring the females along.”
I climbed in the back of the SUV with Nick. The women were tumbled into a large black van. Rukimo drove and Anthony sat in front next to him. We drove along the outside of the slave resort, its demarcation being two tall barbed wired and electrified fences with razor wire on the top. An escaping inmate would have to top one, sacrificing her body to the slicing effects of the wire and overcoming somehow the vicious shocks from the fence, run twenty feet or so and then top another 15 foot fence. And then, of course, the island was surrounded by shark infested waters.
Seeing Rukimo at the wheel, the guards at the gate waived us through. We skirted the main compound and arrived at the back entrance to Klitzman’s villa. I had never been this way before. We entered through a steel door and passed through a room filled with tiny cages. Several of them held forlorn looking young women. The women we had captured followed us along, each one encouraged by a large, black guard dressed in their standard black robes. They all carried sets of handcuffs and 18’ long electrified wands in their belts. The wands could be used as a very effective truncheon or to deliver an instantaneous fierce shock. The guards kept order with the slave girls and also with the guests. Unruly guests were frowned upon.
We entered a large elevator. We had to wait a moment or two for the girls since they still wore their manacles on their ankles, allowing them only to shuffle along at a rather reduced pace. The door closed and the elevator rumbled and rose slowly. It opened to a pleasantly appointed hallway with a plush, red rug and white walls. We turned left, walked down the hall about twenty feet and passed through another door.
We were in the reception room to Klitzman’s mansion. I had always entered it from the other side. It was a large room with dark green marble floors, white walls and a large circular couch. Klitzman, the lord and master of this domain sat in the middle. He was at least 350 pounds, had grizzled, grey hair, fat jowls, broad shoulders. His face was rotund with deep set eyes and a large, strong nose. There were several overstuffed armchairs in the room and a round red rug in front of the couch. I had been here several times before.
Usually, the room was filled with a number of delectable looking naked slave girls engaged in various forms of sexual activity for their master’s amusement. But I saw that they had all been assembled near the far wall. They were kneeling, their heads lowered to the floor and pointing towards the wall, their hands crossed over their naked backs, their legs spread widely, revealing their charms. They were all wearing slave hoods. These hoods had their own gags attached and carried small speakers that plugged their ear holes. Battery powered, the speakers emanated an annoying, steady tone of white noise, shutting the wearer off from all sound from the room around her. Although their hands were crossed behind their backs, they were unbound. None of them would dare move a single inch without permission. Most of the twelve or so enticing little tushies that were pointed in our direction carried evidence of recent abuse, either long, angry, red stripes or deep purple black and blue marks. Service in Klitzman’s private domain was about as far from paradise as you could get.
Also unusual was the fact that Klitzman wasn’t eating. It seemed to me every time I went to se him that he was on a 24 hour food fest and that he was engaged in an experiment on how broadly skin could be stretched on a human frame. I wondered if he had the phone number for Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.
Three steel mounts were standing on the rug in front of the demonic, criminal overlord. The guards wasted no time in freeing the women’s ankles, forcing them to their knees and setting them up in the frames. Clamps went around their necks, holding their heads in place. Their knees were spread wide and their backs were forced into a small arch, causing their breasts to jut out proudly. Once they were mounted, one of the guards went down the line removing their black hoods. Their first sight was that of their oversized new owner. He was dressed in a bright red robe with golden threads running vertically up and down it. Klitzman’s fat thighs were spread wide apart and their view included a display of Klitzman’s dangling, fat cock and balls.
As we entered the room, Klitzman had called out in his deep, booming voice, “Nick! Harry! Good to see you!” I was always amazed at how such fat lips could produce such distinctive, clear tones. It goes without saying that Klitzman was more than slightly mad and he signaled his eccentricity by adopting various accents every time he spoke. Today was BBC English.
Nick and I acknowledged our master’s compliments with short nods.
“Sit! Sit! Sit!” the mammoth man bellowed. Nick and I took chairs to Klitzman’s right. Anthony and Rukimo sat on his left. A slave girl wheeled in a cart full of liquors and I accepted the invitation to avail myself of a large twenty-four-year-old single malt scotch over ice. Now I knew that I should have drunk it neat, but hey, I just came out of a stinking, hot jungle. Give me a break!
Nick took a tall gin and tonic and Anthony and Rukimo both took glasses of water. Klitzman accepted a large glass of beer.
The master criminal raised his glass. “To success!” he called out and we all raised our own and took long pulls at our drinks. The sensation of the scotch going down my throat was heavenly.
“Today you have struck an important blow in favor of law, order and commercial freedom!” Klitzman announced. So that’s what I was doing. I thought that I was suppressing a struggle for basic human rights. But what did I know?
“Harry, you have justified my faith in you. I’m very happy.”
Klitzman had promoted me a few weeks ago to some amorphous post as his ‘go to guy.’ He told me that I was going to be entrusted with ‘bringing back the gold,’ whatever that meant.
I adopted my most
obsequious manner. “I’m just grateful to be of service Mr. Klitzman, after all you’ve done for me.” That was at least partially true. He had gotten me sprung from the joint, cheating a life term. Even though I was secretly a snake in the grass, I did appreciate breathing free air. Free for me that is, not the slave girls.
Klitzman quaffed his brew and handed the glass to the slave girl. She poured him another. At this, he shooed her from the room.
“Now let’s find out a little about our new friends,” Klitzman said, peering lustfully at the three displayed women. They still had the tape over their mouths. I could see their eyes darting back and forth around the room. The sight of the bevy of beauties ass up on the side of the room must have been disconcerting. And the fact that they were being presented naked and trussed like holiday turkeys to this gross behemoth of a man.
Klitzman motioned to one of the huge African guards who were standing in the room. “Remove the tape from their mouths,” he said. “I want to have a little chat with them.”
The guard stepped forwards and one by one tore the silvery tape from the women’s mouths. He did it ungently, ripping the tape off without ceremony. Each one gave a little shriek as the adhesive was rent from their skin. The blonde’s lips were trembling with fear. I could see the hatred and strength in the eyes of the redhead. Ms. Meyers had a look of absolute fury.
“You fucking bastards!” she yelled. “You murderers! You’re nothing but filthy scum!”
Klitzman gave a hearty laugh. “She’s got spirit,” he said. He looked over at the guard. “Give her five strokes across her breasts with the riding crop,” he told him casually. “And then five across the thighs.”
“Fuck you,” the lithe, naked woman yelled. “Fuck you, you bastard!”
The other two women cringed at her words. She was hardly in a posture conducive to defiance. None of them were. Even the redhead looked shocked at her outbursts.
In a moment, the guard appeared before her with the riding crop in his hand. It was heavy, about two inches round and 18” long. The guard swung his arm back and delivered a crushing blow across the woman’s small, but luscious breasts.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” she yelled forcefully. Another blow landed right away. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she yelled. “Oh, god, stop! Stop!”
The guard struck her three more times. Each time the woman gave a loud, anguished cry. Her whole body shook and shuddered in her steel mount. Her head rode back and forth. “Oh, god!” she yelled again and again. “Oh, god! Oh, god!”
The guard paused after delivering his five vicious blows to her breasts. He stood back to adjust his aim to the woman’s shaking, trembling thighs.
“No! Please no!” she pleaded. “I’ll be quiet! I’ll do what you say! Please! No more! Please!”
Ignoring the woman’s piteous begging, the guard reared back and struck again. The blow landed right across the tops of her thighs. Her legs were spread, but at the top they were only a few inches apart and so the crop landed equally on both legs.
“Ohhhhhhh!” she cried out. “Pleeeeease!”
Four more mighty blows were delivered. At the end, the woman was a blubbering mess. Her flesh showed bright red where the crop had landed, areas that were sure to reveal dark black and blue marks within a short while. Her body was shaking so hard, she looked like she was suffering an epileptic fit. Her sobs echoed through the room. The blonde, who was mounted to her left, was also crying woefully. She struggled in her steel trap, tears flowing freely down her face. The redhead was also suitably impressed with the callous violence she had witnessed. In spite of her courage and fortitude up to now, her lips were trembling and her eyes were brimming.
Klitzman had a fierce look of lust in his eyes. Sexual violence was his soul food. He thrived off it, as evidenced by the bruised and battered posteriors of the slave girls kneeling by the wall. I had seen evidence of his proclivity when Carol had been ‘gifted’ to me. Her back was torn into shreds. And I doubted greatly that she had done anything to merit it.
“Well,” Klitzman said, “I guess that we’ve heard enough from you.” He snapped his fingers and a guard produced a gag and brought it to her. He grabbed her chin and forced it between her teeth. It was one of the shield gags that were standard uniform for the slave girls. It had a long, thick plug of leather attached to a broad shield. Once installed, it covered the whole of the bottom half of the face. It quieted the woman considerably, although her faint moans could still be heard.
Klitzman rose from his sofa. It took a mighty effort to move his huge bulk. He stepped over to the redhead and grabbed her cheeks in his huge hand. “Do you have anything you want to say, my dear?” he asked her.
The frightened young girl sobbed out a desperate “No!”
“That’s good. I don’t want to tire my guards out. Now, what’s your name, pretty one?”
“R,Renate,” the girl responded weekly. Her accent was distinctly European.
“And where are you from?”
Now I knew why the slave girls were wearing the deafening hoods. It was strictly verboten for the slave girls to say anything about their pedigree. If by miraculous chance a girl were to escape, she would be able to say little or nothing about the women that she had served with. Also, our little escapade in the jungle was strictly on the QT. Loose lips sink ships.
Klitzman awaited the girl’s response.
“Germany,” she answered. “I’m German.”
“You mean you were German,” Klitzman answered. “Now you’re just a slave.”
The girl gave a sob at this news. The blond girl’s sobs increased their decibels. Klitzman looked over at her. “My dear,” he said. “Either you silence yourself or I’m afraid I’ll have to have you whipped. Do you understand?”
The blond girl bit her lip and struggled fiercely to obey the foreboding command. With a piteous grimace on her face, she soon settled down to a muted moan.
Klitzman then continued his interrogation of Renate. She had been at the station for six months. She attended university in Düsseldorf. Yes, she had seen men coming to visit the doctor. Could she identify them? At this she hesitated. I could see the crisis of conscience that she was undergoing. Just by her response, you knew that she could. The real question was whether she would. And I knew that, with the many tools of persuasion available to the master criminal, she undoubtedly, virtually certainly, would.
Tearfully, Renate nodded her head. Klitzman smiled. “We’ll talk more about that later. Right now, I want you to suck my cock.”
An expression of frantic disgust crossed the young woman’s face. “P,please…” she started to say.
“I’m only going to ask you once, little girl,” Klitzman said menacingly. “and then I’ll have my man beat your tits. And then you’ll do it anyway. So open your mouth and let me in.”
Grimacing, the girl parted her lips in obedience and fear. Klitzman threw his robe open, revealing his massive, jellied belly. Due to his girth, the girl had to strain her head to reach him. Seeing her trouble, he disconnected her neck from the steel stanchion. He put his hand in her now scraggly reddish brown hair and pulled her head forward.
The man’s cock was still soft, and the girl had to gobble it up inside her mouth to perform her chore. Her eyes shifted right and left to take in who was watching her. Of course, we were all watching her. To witness a beautiful young girl’s first step in degradation was always compelling. You knew that it was an act that she would repeat a thousand times, but the first time was something special. You could imagine the shame and self pity that was running through her brain. She was overcoming everything that she had thought about herself heretofore. She had thought that she was a person with rights and dignity and self-integrity. But he was wrong. She had had those things only temporarily. Just until this very moment. She had not known that her destiny was to have all of those things swept away.
Tears flowing down her pretty face, the girl struggled to bring pleasure to the man ominously standing
before her. I could see her jaw working on Klitzman’s meat, her nose flaring as she struggled for air, her wide eyes as the cock began to stiffen and expand.
Renate’s lovely breasts swayed and jiggled as she worked hard at her task. Klitzman, his hands on her head, leaned back and closed his eyes to slits as he absorbed the delicious product of her efforts. Here was a guy who had had his dick sucked probably by several hundred different women and got it many times a day. And yet, his ecstatic reaction to the mouthing of his prick by the newly captured girl was like he hadn’t gotten his dick wet for a month.
It was an interesting thing to watch. This mountain of a man was thrusting his broad, fatty hips at the, in comparison, tiny, young girl. His whole body trembled with each movement. His belly was resting atop the girl’s head. She strained to encompass as much of his wad as she could, gagging when the long, fat rod struck the back of her throat. The only other sounds in the room were her slurps and moans as she did her best to please the man who had just had the girlfriend of her former employer so viciously whipped.
Finally, on one of her down strokes, Klitzman took hold of her head and held it still. His body shuddered and a low, deep groan came from his throat. Renate coughed and gurgled as he jetted his foul discharge into her. Her bound hands clasped and unclasped frantically behind her. Klitzman uttered a mighty, “Arrrrrrrapf!” and his whole body relaxed.
When Klitzman withdrew his sated cock from the girl’s mouth, a long string of his goo came with it, coming to rest on the girl’s chin. She looked relieved that her ordeal was over. Klitzman wiped his shrinking dick on either side of her face to remove the last vestiges of his discharge. He then patted her cheek softly.
“That’s all the use we have for your mouth for now, Renate,” he told her. He snapped his fat fingers and the guard came over with another gag. Renate meekly accepted it and the straps were tied tightly behind her head. Her neck was reaffixed to the strap on the steel frame, causing her to tilt back and jut out her breasts. Klitzman leaned over, he could only really engage in a de minimus bow due to his girth, and took hold of the girl’s nipples with his fingers. He shook them up and down so that her breasts flopped and jiggled. “We’ll have more fun the next time we meet, Renate,” he told her, smiling.
