Buying the Virgin Box Set Four - The Virgin and the Masters: BDSM, Punishment, and Ménage between a Young Woman, her Master and her Lover

by Simone Leigh

  And Klempner…. was his friend?

  So, monsters have friends too.

  “I didn’t kill him. He wasn’t paying attention. Got run down.”

  “He was after you, because you wouldn’t do as you were told, wouldn’t obey…. just like your mother. She didn’t like doing as she was told either… usually had to be persuaded when I wanted to fuck her. Am I going to have to persuade you? Or are you going to do as you’re bid?”

  He sweeps his head back, indicating the other four, no five men in the room. “We’re going to have a lot of fun anyway, you and me, and the others here. I gather you enjoy it, having a few of ‘em going at you…”

  Where is he getting this from?

  “I’d rather like to keep you nearby for the long-term.” he continues. “Run you with the other hookers. I’d enjoy that, seeing how much cock you can suck in a day. But I think you’ve got a big mouth, so instead I’ve got a buyer for you. You’re going where no-one speaks English, and no-one cares about what comes out of a whore’s mouth… just what goes in it.”

  He surveys Beth, trailing fingers through her hair, over her face, lifting her chin with a finger. “And I’ll get a better price now, selling you as a pair.”

  Beth’s fear is visible. Trembling, her eyes are frantic, skin pale, and glistening with a cold sweat.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I say. “Handling her. You don’t want to devalue your goods.”

  He doesn’t stop; running his hands over Beth, her shoulders, her waist, one hand settling below a breast. Her breathing is shallow and rapid. “The buyer I have in mind for you two won’t care.” he sneers. “Quite the opposite. He likes to know that you’ve been brought to heel before he pays.”

  I force a laugh. “You’re nuts. You really have no idea who you have there? Whose wife she is? She’s worth far more to you for ransom, than any third-world hustler’s going to give you.”

  Now I have his attention. “What are you talking about? Who is she then?”

  “That’s Beth Haswell.… Elizabeth Haswell…. Richard Haswell’s wife….”

  He looks at me blankly. “You know…. Richard Haswell… Billionaire…. Owns half the fucking city. And that’s his wife you’re pawing at. He’ll pay a fortune to get her back, but he might not be so happy about it, if he thinks you’ve been fingering his property.”

  He stares down at me, slit-eyed, doubt written large, but I have his attention. “You’re lying.”

  “No, I’m not. Look it up. You should find photos of her on the internet easily enough. Go on; search for images, Richard and Elizabeth Haswell.”

  He jerks his head at one of the chimps in the background. “Do as she says. Look it up.”

  The thug taps in on his phone, staring at the screen, gapes and then thrusts the phone at Klempner. He looks at it, looks at Beth, comparing the two.

  “Alright. She’s worth a lot. That doesn’t mean she’s not joining in the fun…”

  “Haswell is a billionaire.” I drip contempt from my words. “He likes his goods pristine. If you mess with her, he’ll probably not pay as much, or at all.”

  Klempner sucks in his cheeks. “Yeah…. I’d see it like that too…. Okay. Lock her up again.” Then he turns to me. “Now, you….”

  Oh crap….

  The group of men closes in on me.

  _____________________________

  Beth

  The door opens, and Charlotte is all but thrown inside, landing hard on the floor. She picks herself up slowly, rubbing at her shoulder and hips, where they hit the concrete. Her face is swollen on one side, starting to bruise.

  She’s badly upset, wringing at her hands.

  Her rings are gone….

  “Those aren’t the clothes, or the shoes, you were wearing before.” I say.

  “No, they’re not.” and she won’t speak after that.

  _______________________________

  The day fades, and the temperature falls. As I start to shiver in my thin blouse, Charlotte shuffles up close to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. She rubs my arms, as though trying to warm me, but then starts talking, very quietly.

  “They’re taking us out of here, Beth, to the buyer they’ve got for us. We’ve only got one chance. Between being taken out of the building, and them getting us back into that truck, we have to run.”

  Nausea rises in the back of my throat. “A buyer?”

  “Mmm... yes. Although I’m not sure he’s so keen to sell you, now that I’ve told him you can be ransomed. But I don’t know. He seems hell-bent on revenge on me, and I think he’s got you wrapped up with me in his head. Either way, we have to get away from here….”

  “But where? There’s nowhere to go….”

  “It doesn’t matter Beth. Trust me on this. We just have to get away. When I say, you run, as fast as you can, with me. Now shush before they hear us.”

  _______________________________

  Charlotte

  The door slams open, and the guard puts a tray on the floor: water, bread and what might be cheese. I don’t fancy it much with the flies thronging around it.

  “Hey, can I have my old shoes back?” I ask. “These hurt my feet.”

  The guard looks at me askance.

  “They’re just shoes.” I say. “Check them out if you want to. If you’re trying to sell me, it’s not going to improve my price if I’m limping, is it?”

  He looks back to where I see Klempner in the other room. He pauses, nods, and head-points the guard at my old clothes.

  The guard picks out my trainers, feeling his way carefully through them for anything that doesn’t belong there, finding nothing, because there is nothing to find. With a grunt, he tosses them to me in our jail, and bangs the door closed again.

  I sit and put on my own shoes, then, trying to be casual, pass the pair I had been wearing to Beth. “Here, change out those court shoes. I can see from here they’re rubbing you sore, and the heels must be killing you by now.”

  She doesn’t get it and for a moment starts to demur, but I widen my eyes at her, hoping she gets the message.

  Saying nothing, she changes out of her high heeled fashion shoes. “Better bring those with you when we go.” I say, raising my voice for the benefit of our captors. “No doubt they’ll want us both to look our best.”

  ___________________________

  Keys rattle in the lock and the door opens again.

  Speaking as quietly as I can, “This is our chance, Beth. We might not get another. Pretend to be really frightened, and do exactly as they say until….”

  She nods, visibly gulping, fear raw on her face. “Pretend?” she murmurs

  One of Klempner’s apes, holding a gun on us, barks, “Out….”

  Making a show of eye-rolling obedience, I stand. Beth joins me, and I hold her hand as we are herded out to the main room. The windows are dark, and I try to remember if there is a moon tonight.

  Klempner grins at me, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Don’t worry. We’ll have our party later. I’m looking forward to it.”

  I drop my head, looking at the floor, trying to appear submissive. The worm of fear coiled in my gut tries to unravel, but I push it firmly down. This is no time for panic. A wrong move could cost both my life, and Beth’s.

  Outside, the air is sweet with rain and, although the night is chill, the forest breathes fresh around us, the peaty scent of soil and damp leaves. Overcast, the night is a velvet deep, and the trees, a drift of welcoming shadows.

  Still holding Beth’s hand, I wait meekly, as one guard opens the back of the truck, another standing beside us, gun held loosely, not really paying attention. Looking briefly back inside, the interior brightly lit, all the others are doing one thing or another; packing up to leave, all distracted…. I turn quickly away, not wanting to destroy my night vision.

  With a squeeze of my hand, I give Beth a half-second forewarning, then with my free hand, sweep the gun hand of the guard up and a
side.

  And, towing Beth behind me, I run….

  The two guards who accompanied us out, yell an alarm, and there is shouting and cursing behind us.

  “Where are we going?” gasps Beth behind me.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I yell back. “Just away.”

  The two are right behind us as hand-in-hand, Beth and I run helter-skelter into the night.

  _________________________

  Michael

  We sit, parked up by a diner, James with his eyes fixed on his laptop screen. I stare into space. He glances up at me.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “What do you imagine?”

  “Well of course, Charlotte. Something specific?”

  I stare up into the car roof for a moment, caught between embarrassment, the knowledge that Richard is seated right behind us, and the need to unload some stress.

  “I was thinking about that noise she makes. You know the one, when she’s good and aroused, getting close to coming, sort of a cross between a moan and a wail…”

  His face twitches and he looks away. “Yeah… it’s a good sound isn’t it.…”

  “Shall we move on? See if a different area gives us a signal?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  _________________________

  Beth

  I can’t believe it, but we have left our pursuers behind us under the trees. We are in the parking lot of a diner, closed now for the night, but just off the main highway. The forest closes behind us, but ahead, dissolves away to more open ground. In the night, I cannot make out any detail.

  Bending over, clutching my sides against a stitch, I heave in great lungfuls of air.

  “Don’t relax too much.” says Charlotte. “We’re not stopping here. It’s the first place they’ll look, a parking lot like this. If we follow the highway, we’ll make best speed. We can hide off-road if we need to.”

  She’s bending over into a trash bin.

  “Charlotte, what are you doing?”

  “Looking for something to eat.”

  “Eat? Out of the trash bin?”

  “It’ll be okay. These places always empty the bins overnight, so this’ll be today’s. So long as it’s still in the box so the flies can’t get at it, it’s fine. And you’d be surprised what people throw away.…”

  Appalled, but fascinated, I watch her; this girl, apparently so like me. But right now, she feels alien, as the depth of the differences between us comes home to me. “How do you know this stuff?”

  Still searching through the bin, she says “When I was a kid, trying to run from the home, the first couple of times, I got picked up by the police when I was caught shop-lifting for food. After that, I found other ways to eat….”

  She roots among cardboard and greasy papers, then emerges with a box. “See, here you are. There’s most of a meal in here. It’s cold, but it will keep us going.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Do want to eat or not?”

  “Is it good?”

  “No, it’s lousy. I hate junk food, but we’ve got to have something inside us. Your body can’t run on empty.”

  Reluctantly, I reach into the box; deep fried chicken. I bite in, fighting my instinct to gag. She’s right; the food is perfectly edible, but I’m eating trash and my stomach heaves at the thought.

  There is a distant rumbling, the sound of car engines. “Come on.” she says, grabbing my arm again. “Time to go.”

  Michael

  James jerks bolt upright, “There’s the signal again! It’s only a mile or so away, on the road, back the way we came.”

  My foot to the floor, I make a screeching turnaround, then accelerate, engine screaming, following the trace.

  In under a minute, cornering, the headlights swing onto two figures, running ahead, one lagging behind the other, being dragged behind by the arm.

  “Look there… running…. It’s them, both of them, Beth and Charlotte….”

  Drawing closer, the one to the fore - it’s Charlotte, still racing away - twists her head around, red hair flying.… She U-turns, now running away from us, still towing Beth behind her. Beth staggers and trails, but Charlotte pulls her along, gripping her by the wrist.

  “Fuck! They don’t realise it’s us.”

  “Beth! Charlotte!” Richard hangs out of the window, shouting and waving. “It’s us….”

  Charlotte, her face swinging round again, slows, turns, still dragging the weary Beth behind her, and now running towards us. She’s yelling something, gesticulating wildly with her free hand, trying to tell us something, but….

  Headlights swing from the side and front. A car screeches in from the opposite direction, moving directly towards them, and a second drives in from off-road. Charlotte, head twisting, looks from one side to another; for the shortest of moments, indecisive.

  Slamming onto the accelerator, foot hard to the floor, wheels squealing, I speed towards the two fleeing women.

  The car coming in from the side will reach them before we can. The other may do so. Charlotte suddenly breaks loose from Beth, pushing her towards us, waving her arms and yelling instructions.

  The two women split, going in different directions, Beth hobbling towards us, Charlotte dashing into the off-road darkness. One car swerves to follow her, the other keeps coming towards us and the frantically running Beth.

  James pushes his laptop aside. “Shit! We can’t follow both!”

  “Neither can they…” I concentrate on my driving, closing in on Beth.

  Richard is still hanging out of the window, calling to his wife.

  “Get ready to pull her in.” I yell to James and Richard

  “Richard!” Beth’s voice is desperate, her face visibly tear-streaked even in the weird headlamp-lit darkness.

  At the last moment I brake hard, metal shrieking, gravel thrown up from the tyres. “Get her in!”

  Richard slams open the door, reaching for her. The car is still moving, the on-coming vehicle screaming down on us. As Richard pulls Beth bodily into the car, lifting her from her feet, shots fire, the dust jumping by the wheels.

  “They’re going for the tyres…”

  I slam onto the gas, and the car pulls away, slamming us back in our seats.

  Charlotte....

  I accelerate into the off-road darkness, scanning for her running figure, but there is no sign of her, and now shots are coming at us from two vehicles.

  Driving crazily through the dark in pursuit of Charlotte, swinging the car from side to side as I go, so that the headlights have a chance of catching her, we give chase, but there is nothing. In the night, hiding, she could be anywhere; behind a tree, or a rock, or simply flat to the ground looking away from the light. The sound of gunshots follows us, bullets skittering from the ground.

  James sounds sick. “We can’t stay. If we lose a tyre, we’ve all had it, and we’ll be no use to her then.”

  Incredulously, “You’re saying we should go? If they catch her again, what do you think are her chances of escaping a second time?”

  “We’ve got Beth. Let’s get her to safety. We’ll come back. How far away can she be? And if we come in daylight, with the police, perhaps she’ll see it’s us and come out of hiding.”

  “Can you navigate me to a road?” In the darkness, on the broken ground and trying to outrun our pursuers, I have no idea where we are, or where anything else is.

  Richard is on the phone, talking urgently to someone. Tapping off, he says “I’ve spoken to Will. He’s going to saturate the area with patrol cars. If we can get back to the highway, we’ll have company very quickly.”

  “And perhaps Charlotte will break cover then.” adds Beth.

  “We’re only a minute or so off the main road.” says James, pointing. “That way, if you can.”

  Still being tailed, it’s not easy to turn, but as we approach the highway, already, blue lights flash, uncanny in the black night, and our pursuers drop back. Som
e of the blue flashing cars pursue them into the darkness.

  Surrounded by police vehicles, I slow down, pulling up on the verge. James is peering at his computer screen again. He sighs. “We’re down to just the one tracer and it’s travelling with us.” He turns to the back seat, where Richard is cradling his violently trembling wife. “Beth, where have you got it?”

  “Sorry, James. I’m not with you.”

  “We found you because Charlotte planted tracers on herself and her car. She didn’t tell you?”

  Beth shakes her head dumbly, eyes wide. “She set herself up? To find me?”

  James’ skin is pallid, his speech slow. “She started with seven trackers. There’s only one left, and it’s here in the car. It’s got to be on you. Did Charlotte give you anything?”

  “Um, yes, a couple of hair combs. There were lice in the room they were holding us in.”

  James and I meet eyes for a second. “I’m sure she found that convenient.” he says. “May I see the combs please, Beth.”

  She removes them from her hair, which drops down in plaits, passing the combs to James.

  He examines them closely, using the light from his mobile to examine them. They are standard enough fare; cheap plastic hair combs, set with fake plastic gems, of the kind that can be bought in any market or budget goods store for a few coppers. “Mmm.… she did a good job of disguising the tracer, at least to the casual eye. She replaced one of these pewter type gems with the tracer; slotted it into the socket. No-one would notice it on a casual inspection.”

  “Beth.” I ask. “Was she wearing a necklace when you saw her? With a locket? The kind you can put a photo in?”

  “She was when they first brought her in, but when they made her change all her clothes, they took it off her.”

  “Changed her clothes? Was that before or after she gave you the combs?”

  “Some time later.”

  “It looks as though they caught on that she had the tracers, but didn’t realise that she’d already planted one on you.”