by Paul Blades
I decided that I would hold off until I could be absolutely sure that I would not jeopardize my position. After all, what had I really learned? I knew that Klitzman's island was somewhere off the central coast of West Africa. I knew that he operated a landing field somewhere in the jungles of Venezuela. These were already known. But as to the substance of my mission, nothing.
The plane from Klitzman's took me back to the Venezuelan airfield where there was another plane waiting for me, a light job, big enough to island hop around the Caribbean and nothing more. As I got off the plane at the jungle airfield, it was already being refueled and prepared for takeoff. At the cargo bay, two men were off loading several large cartons marked "Fragile" as well as what I knew to be many pounds of refined, pure heroin. Waiting to board the plane were three business types, probably guests and two meaner looking guys, probably Klitzman's men going back to headquarters for some r&r.
Also standing at the base of the off loading ramp, hands chained behind them, hooded and naked were two dark skinned girls, full figured and round and a third girl, pale and thin, with fine blond pubic hair. They were connected to each other with a chain which ran from the neck of the lead girl to the one behind her and so on. Obviously, they were new recruits to Klitzman’s island of hell. The business guys were eyeing them with undisguised lust. But I knew they had been given strict instructions. No touchee, no talkee.
I walked swiftly past the little crowd and followed the direction of one of the ground crew to the waiting single engine job. The pilot waved me in and we took off. I had been on the ground for less than five minutes. Next stop, Paliba.
I sat silently in the plane as we flew into the late morning light. I knew the pilot would be under orders not to gab with me and I certainly had nothing to tell him. What little I could learn would have nothing to do with my mission and could only raise suspicions. The less I talked the better for me. Besides, I was busy thinking to myself about how I was going to complete my mission and what I was going to have to involve myself in on this little trip in order to get back to the island in good graces with the boss.
After about a four hour flight, the pilot banked the plane to the left and began a landing approach. I could see a small field ahead as the pilot spoke to ground control over the radio. We landed without incident and I found myself walking through the small antiquated airport with my suitcase in my hand, looking for my contact. I had been waived through customs after showing my passport and the little courtesy card given to me by Klitzman. The old Klitzman magic was at work.
As I approached the exit from the terminal I heard a feminine voice speak my name. I turned and saw a well, dressed, tall woman, apparently a native, standing about 10 feet behind me and to my left. She had copper colored skin and was dressed in a cheerful flowered skirt, bunched at her waist with a simple, white sleeveless top. She looked to be in her late thirties. Her hair was long and black, falling straight down her back. Very attractive.
"Mr. Wiggins, I'm so glad to meet you." She held out her hand. "I'm to take you to the resort. Please come with me."
"An invitation like that is hard to turn down," I said "Lead the way."
I followed her out to a black limousine which was sitting outside of the airport lounge, watching her walk before me. She had a sway, almost a lilt to her walk, like music. Her skirt came down to just below her knees, giving her a demure air. She opened the door to the rear of the limo and motioned me in. She got in behind me and the limo took off. The windows were tinted. The nameless woman sat next to me and smiled slightly as she returned my gaze. She smelled sweet, like jasmine.
"Drink, Mr. Wiggins?" she asked. I noticed just then a small bar behind the front seat. "A Bombay martini, twist of lemon, is that correct?"
"Absolutely correct," I returned somewhat surprised. I wouldn't have thought that my coming would be so noticed and prepared for. But then again, Klitzman left little to chance. Whoever I was meeting here had probably been shown my dossier, or at least as much as Klitzman thought they needed to know.
The trip lasted about forty minutes. I guessed that there wasn't too much driving that could be done on a small island like this one. Probably smaller than a Manhattan borough with about five per cent of the population, or less. With most of them crowded in the main port, one could have a lot of privacy in a deserted corner like we were apparently heading for. Privacy is everything now, isn't it?
"We are here now, Mr. Wiggins. Please follow me inside the gate." The nameless woman led me out of the car and towards a large gate which was guarded by some pretty mean looking fellows. They looked like they came right off Klitzman's island, which they probably did. The limo driver handed my suitcase to one of the guards as the woman and I passed through the outer gate.
About fifteen feet beyond the gate was a small gatehouse where a very smartly dressed black man, black as coal, stepped out and bowed to me slightly, kind of a salute. "Good evening, Mr. Wiggins, we are pleased to have you here as our guest on Paliba. May I see your passport please?" I gave it to him.
"I will keep this document until you are ready to depart, Mr. Wiggins, I am sure you will understand the need for security. I must also insist on the opportunity to inspect your luggage. It will be returned to you shortly."
"Sure, sure." I said. "Don't worry about it." The woman touched my arm and motioned me to follow her. She led me through a second gate and then up a small walkway to the front door of a large mansion building in the old Spanish style, red tile roof, two stories and spread out for several hundred feet in both directions. We walked into the front door and into a large hallway. There were several very attractive servant girls standing in the hallway, all wearing flowing, lacy, white cotton skirts, down to their ankles and white short sleeve tops of the same material. A thin golden belt, more like a silken cord was drawn about each one of their waists and hung down their sides to about a foot above the floor. Their feet were bare. They were all wearing leather collars sporting a golden colored ring in the front and leather bracelets around their wrists.
The woman who had led me inside spoke quickly to the first girl standing by the stairway, Spanish, I thought, or maybe Portuguese. She spoke to her in a sharp, harsh tone, the voice of command. "This servant will show you to your room," she then said to me. "Please refresh yourself and you will be expected in one hour for dinner."
"Thanks," I said. "And will you be joining us?" I asked.
"Why yes, Mr. Wiggins. I will be there. It is my duty to make your stay with us a comfortable one. By the way, my name is Carla. If you find there is anything you need you should use the phone in your room to reach the central telephone. They will find me and I will do what I can for you."
I nodded and started up the stairs behind the servant girl. She too had that lilting walk that Carla had, her hips swaying gently as she led me up the stairs. I followed her to a doorway about three quarters of the way down the hallway. The door was open and she led me inside. The room was about thirty by twenty with a large canopied bed against one wall. Against the other was a wardrobe and dresser and the door to a bathroom. As I stepped into the room, I closed the door behind us and watched the girl walk over to the wardrobe. She opened it and showed me several summer style suits. The dresser contained underwear, socks and shirts. There was several pair of sandals by the bathroom door. Everything for the worn out traveler I thought. Whoever runs this joint is doing ok for himself.
The servant girl had gone into the bathroom and began to run the tub. It was a large sunken tub, big enough for two people to sit in. The girl turned to me and in one smooth motion stepped out of her skirt and then pulled her blouse up over her head. She had jet black pubic hair which bunched out like a small forest between her legs. Her breasts were not large, but firm and round. Her skin was coffee colored, her eyes as black as her hair which ran down to her shoulders in torrents. Her eyes cast down, she knelt by the side of the tub, her knees apart, hands resting on her thighs, open, palms up. I recognized that, i
t was the pose of submission. Klitzman had reached out to this small Caribbean isle and instilled his system of discipline and training even here. She had leather bands around her ankles, with a small ring embedded in the side. No mystery as to what that was for.
I let the girl bathe me, soaping me as I stood in the tub, her kneeling outside reaching over to rub my back, my stomach, my legs. She shampooed my hair from behind me while I sat with my back to the edge of the tub on a small ledge. The water was warm, relaxing.
Since the bathroom was carpeted, there was little of the echo of most bathrooms to destroy my reverie as the servant girl rinsed my head of soap and then firmly massaged my shoulders. Gently but firmly she rubbed the muscles in my shoulders and back. She then gracefully stepped into the tub with me and began to rub her hands, then her lips across my chest. I reached my hand up and caressed her head softly as she reached her hands lower, down my sides and into my lap. She grabbed my cock, which rose above the water.
Bending over, she took it into her mouth, moaning slightly. The vibration of her moan tremored throughout my body as she worked her way up and down the shaft. Her tongue flicked over the glans of my cock as she sucked gently but firmly. I was leaning back, enjoying the rest, the pleasure after my long flight. She continued for about five minutes, alternating moaning and licking, expertly bringing me close to the edge of my climax and then back. This girl was a pro. Finally, I could hold back no more and I came, a long, slow, pulsing come, like my dick had been working out for a ten mile run. The warmth of the water spread over me like a wave.
As I finished, the girl gently stroked my balls and licked the come off of the end of my cock. I just lay there as she gracefully rose from the tub and disappeared momentarily. She was back in an instant with a large bath towel and robe. I got out of the tub and allowed her to rub me dry, my legs, my chest, my arms. It was like a standing rub down, the way she rubbed and massaged my body at the same time.
When she was done, she gave me a large white terry cloth robe and then motioned me over to the sink. Laid out there were a razor, shaving brush and mug. She made a motion as if to begin to lather up the brush when I stopped her. I was damned if I was going to let even a beautiful stranger hold a razor to my throat. I did it myself as she watched, kneeling on the floor to my right. When I finished, she preceded me into the bedroom and began to pick up the clothes which were lying on the bed. Apparently while I was in pig heaven, someone had come in and laid out the clothes I was to wear. Having gone this far down the route, I figured I might as well go with the rest of the program.
As I was dressing, or rather, being dressed, there was a knock at my door. I opened it. It was Carla. "We will be having cocktails in about ten minutes, Mr. Wiggins. Please come join us."
"I'll be right there." I replied, "My bath took a little longer than I thought it would. Not that I'm complaining mind you."
"Yes, our servants are well trained. They are very disposed to please our guests. I am gratified that you found this one pleasing."
"Very pleasing." The girl's eyes were downcast as I spoke to Carla. "I hope I get the chance to see more of her."
"Alicia will be pleased to remain here to await your pleasure later tonight. Just chain her ankle to the bedpost. She'll be here when you get back. I'll have her dinner sent up. There is a chain and key in the top drawer of the bureau. The other servants will see to any personal needs she might have while she waits."
"Why thank you, I'll just do that. By the way, does she speak any English?"
"She knows many simple commands in English. We don't find it important that they know more than that. I'll see you downstairs in a couple of minutes."
She stepped over to Alicia, put her hand under Alicia's chin, lifting it up and spoke to her again, swiftly, sternly. Alicia's eyes showed fear as she listened and mumbled a two or three word reply. She lowered her eyes again as Carla walked towards the door. "See you soon," she said to me as she left.
I buttoned my shirt as Alicia brought me a set of gold cuff links from the bureau. She fastened them on for me and then picked up my jacket and held it for me to put on. No tie in the tropics, I thought. The jacket fit to a tee as everything else had. Good planning.
Alicia, still naked, stood before me awaiting some command. I noticed for the first time a small golden disc dangling between her thighs. She was standing with her hands behind her, wrists on her hips, her breasts thrust out, legs apart. Another Klitzman pose. I watched her in silence for a few moments. She was a vision of subservient beauty. Her downcast eyes were like a cat's, deep and dark, her skin, dark, soft and smooth. I stepped closer to her and reached down between her legs, grabbing the medallion which hung there. I could see that the lips of her labia had been pierced and the medallion hung from a ring which had been inserted through the incision.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the bed where I pushed her backwards onto it. Her eyes widened as her hands fell from her hips to break her fall. I stepped between her open thighs, running my hands along them and up to her hips and back down again to her knees. I then lifted her knees up, pushing her legs up towards her chest. This gave me an unobstructed view of the cleft between her legs and beneath to her ass and the tight ring of flesh that sat below. I could see emblazoned into her hindquarter, an angry red, cursive ‘k’.
The girl looked at me with fire in her eyes. This one is not long to her bondage, I thought. She still allows herself to rebel. Grabbing her ankles with one hand, I pushed them towards her head, spreading her thighs further. With the other hand I grasped the medallion and examined the inscriptions. On the one side was inscribed in simple block letters the name Alicia. Above it was a pair of crossed whips, more like riding crops. On the other side a single, cursive k: Klitzman. She belonged to him and probably had never even heard his name. Not that that would have made much difference.
After examining the medallion, I released Alicia's legs and, grabbing her wrist, bade her to stand up again next to the bed. I walked over to the bureau and found a light chain, about 18” long, in the bottom drawer. The chain had small locks on each end with a key in one. I tried the key on both locks and found that it worked both of them. I then returned to Alicia. I took one end of the chain and affixed it to a ring on the bedpost towards the foot of the bed. The other end I locked onto the ring which protruded from the leather band around her left ankle. I put the key in my pocket. I would see her later.
CHAPTER THREE
SINS OF THE FATHER
I left my room and walked down the hallway to the central staircase. On the way, I noticed several guards, strategically placed down each hallway. Ready for any emergency. The hallways were wide, covered with a plush red and black carpet. The walls were decorated with various paintings. As I examined each one, I noticed that they all dealt with the female form, nude, partially clothed, engaged in various enticing or otherwise voluptuous poses. Just what you would expect in whorehouse.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw three servant girls standing by the entrance door, all dressed like Alicia, eyes downcast, hands behind them. There was little or no chance of their leaving by that door, or me for that matter, since it was heavily bolted and locked. Besides, there was Mr. Congeniality outside. The windows were all barred, and since the building was evidently well air-conditioned, the windows were probably kept locked and sealed. “I sure wouldn't want to be here in a fire,” I thought.
I was escorted by a slender servant girl with radiant, wavy auburn hair down the corridor to a large door. She motioned for me to enter. I was later to learn that while the servant girls were permitted at times to remain unattended, or even to roam unsupervised throughout the halls or around the grounds, they were expressly forbidden to open or even touch any of the doors. I opened the door and stepped into a brightly lit dining room, a large chandelier in its center, a long table, set with crystal and fine china. There were five men standing around the room, chatting, drinking cocktails. Carla was instructing a
servant girl on the far side of the room. She spotted me.
"Oh, Mr. Wiggins, I am glad you are here." She dismissed the servant with a wave of her hand and glided over to meet me. "We are about to take our places for dinner. Please sit here next to the head of the table. I will announce your presence."
I did as I was bade and stepped over to the head of the table and sat down in the seat Carla had indicated. The other men drifted to the other seats. All their eyes dressed left as a door opened on the side of the room. A slender, Hispanic looking man, wearing a flowered, Hawaiian style shirt, white pants and a thin moustache entered the room. His face was contorted into a smile as he looked over at me and approached.
"Ah, Mr. Wiggins, so nice to meet you. I welcome you to our little family." He reached over and took my hand. "Gentlemen, greet Mr. Harry Wiggins, he has joined our company and will be assisting in procurement, isn't that so Mr. Wiggins?" I nodded yes. The other men nodded too. Quite a crowd.
"Mr. Wiggins, I won't bore you with the names of my other guests tonight, you will meet those you need to know more formally later. Tonight, we wine and dine. And talk of course. You have much to learn about our systems and procedures. My name is Diskare, Rene Diskare." He motioned to Carla who was standing by the far wall. She, in turn, motioned to the several servant girls around the room who began to serve dinner. Diskare poured me a glass of white wine from a decanter. The other men dug in. Carla took her place at the opposite end of the table directly across from Diskare.
"So, Mr. Wiggins, are you enjoying you membership in our organization?"
"Well," I replied, "it sure beats my last engagement."
Diskare laughed. "Oh yes, I see what you mean. Many of our associates feel the same way, don't you know. It takes a special type of man to fulfill our organizational needs. Right Pierre?" He spoke to a large, well built fellow to my right.
