by Paul Blades
He took another chug of the liquor. “Get up,” he ordered her.
Deirdre obediently rose from the bed. Her heart was still thumping and her body was reverberating with the consequences of lust. She cursed herself for her wantonness. Maybe the man was right. Maybe she was a whore by nature and not just by profession. He took hold of the ring in her collar and drew her out into the living room. Her leash was lying on a side table and her clipped it to her collar.
“Goodbye for now, slut,” he told her. “Maybe the whip next time, eh?”
The women who had brought her were outside. She wondered if they had been waiting the whole time. The tall one took hold of her leash and, giving her master and owner a respectful bow, hauled her away.
They were half way across the courtyard below when Jessie approached her. He smiled ear to ear, his gold tooth gleaming. He took hold of the leash from her escort.
“I think it’s my turn, whore,” he said. He brought her to his room and fucked her fore and aft for more than an hour.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Deirdre spent most of the next few days hooded and bound in her cage. Jessie brought her back there when he was done with her. She was astounded and dismayed to see four more cages next to hers, three of them filled with hooded and bound women.
She was fed at regular intervals and bathed too. Twice more she was brought to el Jefe’s rooms. The second time he beat her as he had promised. She saw no more of Jessie. And none of the other men fucked her, something she thought was strange. It was as if she was being held aside for something special.
The long hours she spent in her cage were demoralizing and horrid to bear. She came to long to be brought to her owner’s rooms to be fucked just to get some more time outside of it. It was a double edged sword, though. Each time he fucked her, he drove her deeply into passion, forcing explosive orgasms from her. Alone in her cage, cut off from virtually all sensation, she would mourn her base nature, her whorishness.
And then one day, after she was allowed to shower and shampoo and then fed, she was not brought back to her cage or to her owner’s room. Instead, the women, and it wasn’t always the same women, they all seemed to share this duty, led her to a door at the other end of the courtyard. It opened to a large room, perhaps twenty feet long and 15 feet wide. Chains dangled from the ceiling along one wall. They were in pairs and at their ends were solid, heavy yokes of polished wood with three holes in them, one at each end and one in the middle. A blond haired woman was standing mounted in one. Her hands were captured as well as her neck. She was Caucasian, like her, and she assumed that she was one of the women she had seen in the other cages. She had never seen them with their hoods off.
Along the opposite wall were four comfortable looking chairs with cloth covered seats and ornate arms. Small tables sat between them. On one was a bottle of water, a bottle of tequila and a bottle of cognac as well as four or five small glasses.
The room was lit softly, but not dim. It had a fine, red rug and walls of dark stained wood.
The women quickly had her mounted next to the other, her neck confined and her hands turned up on either side of her head. One of them pulled the end of the chain until the wooden stock forced her to stand straight up, slightly elevated on her toes. A ball gag was forced in her mouth and tied off behind her head. A spreader bar was attached to her ankles to keep them about three feet apart. And then they left.
She hung there for a long time. Her feet started to ache after a half hour or so. Two more women were brought into the room and mounted. Alone in the room, except for each other, the strangely confined women exchanged worried glances. Something was up. Someone was coming to make a selection, that was obvious. But for what? Was it for a grand, introductory fuck by some special client who would get first pick of the litter? Or was something else going on?
About an hour after the last woman was mounted, the door opened again. It was Signor Corrida and he was leading a very smart looking woman. She was tall and elegant looking and seemed to be about 40. Her hair was chestnut and pinned up behind her head in a bun. She wore bright gold earrings and her face was made up perfectly, not too much and not too little. Her lips were painted red and there was a slight flush to her cheeks, but her eyes, besides her lashes being painted in black, were unadorned. She was dressed in closely fitting designer jeans, a loose, mauve blouse and a pair of black, high heeled boots. Around her waist was a belt with a large, gold buckle.
Behind her was a tall, broad shouldered man. He stood back and just to the side if her. He was wearing a well cut grayish blue suit and elegant shoes. There was a bulge under his left arm that could only be one thing.
Another man, one whom Deirdre had seen walking across the courtyard once or twice, was with Corrida. Both he and Corrida were dressed casually in pullover shirts and jeans. They both wore shiny, brown cowboy boots.
Corrida was talking. He invited the woman to sit next to the center table and he poured her a glass of tequila at her request. They were engaged in a conversation they had apparently begun before they came in. It was in Spanish and so Deirdre could not tell what they were saying. But the repartee was sprinkled with amused little laughs.
From time to time, the woman cast her glance at the four mounted women. It was a cold, appraising look. She was elegant looking, but Deirdre perceived something very hard about her. Certainly she had to be hard to come into a room with four unfortunate female prisoners lined up on display and not exhibit a single sign of sympathy for their plight.
After they had talked for about ten minutes, Corrida urged the woman to her feet and escorted her to the end of the line. She prodded and poked, caressed and stroked. Since the yokes were on chains it was easy to make them turn around so that she could see and feel their asses. A lowering of the chain and an order to bend over, an order which none of the women had the slightest inkling to disobey, was sufficient for her to sample their love holes, peer between the cracks of their rear cheeks and stroke them into responsiveness.
Deirdre was trembling with fear the whole time. Although el Jefe was hard and callous, she detected a harsher taskmaster in the woman. And where would she take her? Deirdre hadn’t the slightest idea where she was now. Where would she end up if the woman bought her? Possibly some place where there would be even less hope of escape than from here which was at least within a day’s drive of the border.
She was so afraid that when the woman, smiling a shark’s smile, massaged her breasts she let out a little whine. This seemed to intrigue the woman. She took hold of Deirdre’s love lips and started to squeeze them, mildly at first. She kept her eyes peeled to Deirdre’s face as her grip became tighter and tighter until finally the helpless woman let out a sob and a tear floated down her cheek.
El Jefe and the woman went back to their chairs and had another drink while they discussed, presumably, the relative assets of the four captives. They laughed and joked. Once or twice they got up from their chairs and reexamined one or two of them. From Deirdre’s perspective, and to her dismay, the woman’s choice seemed to be coming down to either her or the blond woman to her right.
The woman asked that Deirdre’s gag be removed. When the large ball was out the woman spoke to her. She had a smooth voice, pleasant in fact. Her English was very good with just a slight lilt to it. But there was an edge to it that convinced Deirdre that she was no stranger to command nor reticent to inflict punishment when her command was ignored.
“Tell me your name, child,” she said. Her manner was friendly, like they were in a doctor’s waiting room exchanging pleasantries.
Deirdre’s mouth was dry. Her heart was pounding. She needed to pee badly. “D, D, Deirdre,” she finally got out.
“How old are you Deirdre,” she inquired.
“T,twenty-two,” she replied.
“That’s twenty-two, mistress,” the woman corrected her.
“Twenty-two, m,mistress,” Deirdre repeated.
The woman was tall, a l
ittle taller than Deirdre. She was so close that their noses were almost touching. Her hand found its way to Deirdre’s purse and she stroked it lightly while they talked. Deirdre knew that the woman wasn’t really interested in the information. She just wanted to hear her speak.
“Do you like to suck cock, Deirdre,” she asked.
Deirdre didn’t know how to answer this one. If she said yes, she might go up in the woman’s estimation or she might be punished later for lying. If she said no, well, technically that would be a lie too since she used to like it when she did of it of her own free will and not for some fucking john. But maybe the woman was looking for someone to humiliate and make suffer and would enjoy forcing her to do something she didn’t like.
“Come on, slut,” the woman insisted. “Answer the question.”
“S,sometimes, mistress,” she finally replied.
The woman laughed. “And sometimes not, I take it.”
“Yes, mistress,” she mumbled.
“And what about pussy? Do you like to lick pussy? The same answer?”
“Yes, mistress.”
“And what about mine? Would you like to lick my pussy?”
Deirdre panicked. Should she say yes or no? She couldn’t answer this one, ‘sometimes’. She began to get overwhelmed. Tears started to flow down her face. If she said yes, the woman was more likely to buy her. If she said no, she might buy her anyway and punish her later. She wished the hand would leave her pussy. She was fully lubricated from the woman’s handling of her and it was distracting. She dipped her hips slightly as if to ward it off. The hand became more active. A finger was massaging her love button. It became more insistent. She couldn’t bear it another instant. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned.
The woman laughed. “I’ll take her,” she said to Corrida in English. “And the blond too.”
Deirdre started to sob. She didn’t want to be owned by the woman. She didn’t want to be owned by anyone. She wanted to go home, back to Atlanta, find her old boyfriend and move in with him. She would never turn another trick in her life, never dance at another bar, never try to take anything that didn’t belong to her again. She would go to church, say prayers every day, do good things for people, if only God would let her out of this.
The woman went back to the table and finished off her glass of tequila. She shook hands with Corrida and left the room with him. The two other men had a brief discussion and then the one who had come with the lady left. He came back in about fifteen minutes. He was carrying a large, black case. He put it down on the floor and opened it.
They did the blond first. She was sobbing too. When they removed her gag, she said some words that sounded to Deirdre like Russian. The man who was with the lady removed the leather collar that the blond wore and replaced it with one made of shiny steel. He placed similar bands around her wrists and ankles. An 18” long chain was attached to her legs. Her hands were folded back behind her, clipped together and then connected by a small chain to a ring in the back of the collar. She squealed in pain when they lifted her arms to do it. A bridle gag was placed over her head. It had a wide, leather shield that covered her mouth, and a strap that had a little slot in it for her nose and then went up between her eyes and married with the strap around her throat.
Deirdre tried to struggle when they were outfitting her. She earned a harsh slap on her pussy and a fierce twisting of her nipples. When they had her all trussed up, the man who came with the lady told her in a deep, scratchy voice that sounded like he was German, “There will be a punishment for that later.”
There was a ring on the outside of the gags and the men attached leashes to them and then took the women out into the courtyard. They were allowed to pee over the drain that was used for those purposes and then hustled over to a black Lincoln Continental where they were pushed into the back seat. The windows were tinted and there were no handles on the doors. Seat belts went over their chests, securing them in place.
They sat in the car for a good half hour. They exchanged frantic, doleful looks with each other. It was almost midday and it began to get quite warm. Deirdre tried to think of things she could do to escape like kicking out a window as they drove to wherever they were going, but she was barefoot and her legs were chained. Even if she knocked out the window, she had no way to open the door. The man must have thought of that because when he came back to get in the car, he opened the back seat first and clipped the chain between her legs to an eyebolt under her seat. He did the same for the blond too.
He opened the front passenger door for the lady and then got in the driver’s seat. The engine revved up and they pulled away.
They drove for about an hour. Deirdre was beside herself. “Where are we going? What’s going to happen to me?” she thought desperately. A sickening feeling had spread throughout her whole body. Overwhelmed with fear and anger, humiliated by her helplessness, she screamed into her gag at one point and kicked her bound ankles against the floor of the car. The woman looked calmly into the back seat and smiled. She said something to the driver and he laughed.
When the car came to a rest, the door opened and she saw that they were at an airfield. She was pulled out of the car and led to a blue and white, dusty, two engine passenger plane. The wind was kicking up and she had to close her eyes to prevent dirt getting in them as she was led by her leash towards it. When the man went to put her in, she struggled and cried out. He grabbed a hold of her right breast and twisted it savagely. She groaned in pain. Another man entered the plane from the other side and the two of them easily forced her into the back seat where she was strapped in place again. A few moments later, the blond joined her. The man and woman got in, the engine was started and, after it warmed up for about ten minutes, they taxied to the runway and were off.
They were heading south. Deirdre knew that because the sun had dipped a mite in the sky and it was to her right. At fist, she wondered why she and the blond girl had not been blindfolded. But as the miles went swiftly by, she came to understand. She could see out from the window next to her. They were traversing mile after miles of rugged country, dried up landscape. And then they hit the mountains. The message was clear. Wherever they were going, it was a long way away from Texas. She would have a long, long way to go if she ever were able to escape. No one who had ever known her would find her where she was being taken. For all practical purposes, it might as well have been the moon.
She lay back and let the vibration of the engine sooth her. Every once in a while, the woman would look back at her purchases and smile.
It was late afternoon when the plane began to circle to land. Deirdre looked out the window and she saw a fairly good sized city set, it seemed, in the middle of nowhere. She saw no purpose in resistance when the man tugged at her arm to get her out of the plane. There was a long, black car waiting for them, much like the other one they had traveled to the airport in and she and the blond were secured in much the same way.
They whisked through the city. Deirdre couldn’t see much because of the tinted windows. But she was able to look out of the windshield. The city was a pleasant combination of modern and old. There were some large office buildings made of steel and glass and there were buildings that could have been built in the 1800’s, regal and solid. What impressed Deirdre most was the fact that the man and woman had no compunction about driving them in an automobile through the city during the day. They had stopped at several traffic lights and Deirdre could plainly see the faces of the people as they crossed the street through the windshield. She could have sworn that one of the people, a man dressed in a business suit, had seen her, bridled and gagged in the back seat. He tipped his hat.
What it meant was that there would be little chance of rescue by any of the authorities here, wherever they were. Apparently it was not beyond the pale here to kidnap young women and turn them into sex slaves.
They pulled into a little street and a few blocks later into the walled in courtyard of a beautiful stone bu
ilding. It was three stories high and at least two hundred feet long. They were in the back, but the architect had not stinted in his decorations here. There were elegant cornices and stone archways over the windows. In the middle was a complicated coat of arms. Faux columns ran up the corners. The top floor, three stories up, had ornate, intricate carvings of jungle animals along it every ten feet or so, just under the roof.
The woman went into the building while the man unhooked their chains from the eyebolts under the seats. He motioned for them both to get out of the car. Deirdre struggled to obey. When she was out, another man hooked a leash into the ring on her gag and escorted her to a heavy, steel banded door on the ground floor. It’s large, brass deadbolt was locked and the man opened it with a key.
Once inside, she was led down a long hallway, taking baby steps because of her chained ankles. They passed several small rooms which had, instead of doors, steel bars. In one of them, Deirdre saw a woman lying on a cot, hogtied, with a black hood over her head. They entered a room that looked like a lounge. There were bars over the windows. A TV was mounted in a corner near the ceiling and it was showing a Spanish movie with gangsters and fragile, helpless women. Several naked women were sitting in easy chairs or standing around talking. They were all beautiful and all wore the collar and bracelets with which she and the blond had been adorned after their sale. A couple of them bore the clear signs of a recent lashing, red stripes over their breasts and back sides.
The women all gave her and the blond a cursory glance and then looked away.
The man leading Deirdre stopped at one of the small rooms. He had a key on a chain on his belt and he unlocked the steel barred door. He removed the leash from her gag, pushed her in and then locked it again. There was a sliding outer door built into the wall that Deirdre hadn’t noticed before. He slid it shut and locked it.
The room was about ten by ten. It had a low ceiling and a floor of faded yellow tile. There was a cot against one wall. In the corner was a small sink under a mirror. Next to it was a toilet. There were no closets or anywhere to put clothes. There were no windows. Across from the bed was a wooden hutch. The room was lit by a single light on the ceiling, but there was no switch. A chain dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the room connected to a pulley on the wall. Just under the pulley, mounted decoratively, were a whip and a thick riding crop.
