by Paul Blades
But he was thinking like a fool. She was just another cunt. She was there to be used and disposed of. Who cared about her useless, ‘normal’ life. She was like everybody else. You took from them what you needed, what you wanted. If they got in your way, too bad for them.
Her dress was still hanging by the window and her little yellow shoes were underneath it. He had stuffed her discarded nylons into them. He thought of her putting them on the day before not knowing what fate had in store for her. He remembered her doll like face when she was sleeping. He felt like something was twisting inside him. He had never felt this way about a broad before in his life. What made her so special? Was he getting soft? Old? Or maybe, maybe, he was just tired of leading a life of untrammeled wreckage.
He leapt up from the chair. “Fuck her!” he thought. He was going to do her. He swung the door to the bathroom open and flicked on the light. Without looking at her, he leaned over and snapped the drain closed. He put his hand on the handle for the spigot. He began to twist it. The water began to spill out. She was moaning and crying frantically. Her bound hands writhed. Her body shook back and forth. He turned out the light and closed the door. “There,” he thought. “It’s done.” But his hand never left the handle. “Don’t be a fool!” he told himself. “Your better off without her!” And then he thought of her lovely body, her brilliant eyes, the warmth of her mouth on his cock, the way she sighed when he entered her.
He couldn’t do it. He pushed the door open. The water had risen already to half way up her thighs. She was shaking and twisting her head frantically. He crouched down. He knelt on the floor. He looked at her.
He shut the water off and opened the drain. He watched it empty out. When it was all gone, he untied her feet from her wrists and then her feet from each other. He lifted her from the tub. She was sobbing heavily. He took a towel and quickly dried her off. Then he dragged her from the bathroom into the bedroom and over to the table. He let her slip to her knees and untied first her elbows and then her wrists. He took off the pillowcase and then, lastly, removed the blue ball from her mouth. He went and sat in his chair.
Her hands dangled at her sides. Her eyes were doleful and sad. Her lips were trembling. The stripes he had put there still marred her breasts and belly. She stretched and expanded her body to try and make sure that she was really unconfined. She began to murmur something. He couldn’t understand it. She was crying, tears pouring down her face, and the words were coming and coming, words that she kept repeating but he couldn’t make out. Then she fell to her hands and knees and started to crawl towards him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He was perplexed. Sorry for what? And then he remembered. She had tried to run away. She thought that all of this had been a punishment for trying to run away.
She reached his chair and started kissing his boots. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she was saying louder now. She raised her head and started climbing his legs. He was too astounded to stop her. When she was kneeling between them, she ran her hands over his thighs, her eyes flitting up and down again at his. Her face was wrinkled with her delirious unhappiness. She lay her head in his lap. She was sobbing. Her hands continued to rub his thighs, now along the outsides. Then her hand moved again. She lifted her blond head and her hands took its place in his lap. He felt fingers seeking out the buckle to his pants. They loosened it, separating the halves, and then slowly eased down his fly. Her eyes, red from crying, dark from her agonies, stared up at him cautiously as if waiting for a blow to fall. He let her continue. She fished out his hardening cock. Her hand was hot around it and he issued a sigh of pleasure. She looked at him whispered two more times, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and then she leaned over and subsumed his cock into her mouth.
Her lips and tongue consumed him hungrily. Her hand reached into his open pants and cupped his scrotum gently. Her tongue flitted over the tip as she suckled the head. She moved her head up and down, up and down, her free hand rubbing his belly and chest under his shirt. She swirled her tongue around, held her lips fast to the skin of his thick stem, took it to the very edge of her throat and held it there. He moaned and groaned. He sat back in the chair and placed his hand on her head, not for control, but in acceptance of her efforts.
He let her go on and on. She was going good. He held himself back as long as he could. And then he came. Her energies increased fivefold. Her mouth bobbed rapidly, her tongue swirled madly. She squeezed his balls gently and circled the base of his cock with her other hand. She moaned and twisted her head, getting as much moist friction as she could on his cock. He bellowed his pleasure, grabbing her head with both of his hands and holding on to it tight. He felt like he was emptying his whole body out through his cock. It just kept going and going. A flash of pleasure jolted through him at each mighty spasm. Until, finally it wound down. He was out of breath. His heart was pounding. His body shivered with tweaks of pleasure as she suckled his cock to obtain all of his discharge. When he had gone soft again, she laid her head in his lap, flung her hands around his waist and cried.
He let her go on for a few minutes. Then he gently pushed her back. He lifted her head and told her to crawl back a few feet. He addressed her.
“We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes. First I am gong to feed you. Then, there are some new clothes I bought for you to wear. You will try them on. Choose the ones that fit you best. Then I want you to put on your makeup like you had it yesterday, lipstick, eyeliner, the works. Then we’ll be going. We’ll be driving all night. Tomorrow, we’ll rest again. Do you understand?”
She nodded her head, her face neutral, resigned and obedient.
He took out the chicken nuggets and placed them on a plate. He saw that they were too big for her to swallow all at once and so he cut them up and then poured the honey mustard sauce all over them, making sure each one got a fair amount. Placing the plate before her on the floor, he reminded her to keep her hands behind her back or he would have to tie them. She just nodded and complied.
He finished off his burger while she ate. She kept her hands clasped together behind the small of her back, spread her knees widely and then leaned her head over until she could slurp up individual pieces of the cut up chicken. It took her a while, so he had a smoke while he waited. He enjoyed watching her. He poured some of the Pepsi into a bowl and let her drink it. She would need the caffeine. When she was done, her wiped her face and cleaned the plate and bowl.
He showed her the denim miniskirts. She picked out the one that she thought would fit her best and, business like, stepped into it and snapped it closed. She looked much different with some clothes on. It made him want to fuck her. But they didn’t have time. She picked out a light blue t-shirt with a bouquet of pink and yellow flowers on the front and put it on. He gave her the socks and the running shoes and they seemed to fit fine. He carefully folded the little yellow dress and put it and the matching shoes in one of the plastic bags from the army navy store.
He ordered her into the bathroom and brought her bulging, yellow purse with him. She opened it and carefully outlined her eyes, powdered her face, applied her bright red lipstick. When everything was ready and packed, he gave her her new parka to wear. She looked like a whole other person. He had no illusions that she wouldn’t try and run away if she got the chance, but he was also satisfied that as long as she was in his presence, she would be docile and subservient. He felt good about that because he had lost all desire to harm her.
He pulled the Walther out of the pocket of his cargo pants and showed it to her. Her eyes widened and she stepped back.
“I just wanted you to know. We’ll be driving all night. We may have to make some stops. If you fuck up, if you endanger me, I will fucking shoot you dead in an instant. I want you to know that without any doubt. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m never going back to stir. They’ll have to kill me first and I will kill anyone that gets in my way. And that includes you. Do you understand?”
She nodded her head. She understood.
They went out to the car. She stood by while he put the things in the back seat. He made her get in the driver’s side. He knelt there with the door open and tied her left leg to the bottom of the seat. He gave it about 18” of slack. It would be just one more impediment to her running away. He closed the driver’s door, hustled around to the passenger seat, got in and closed the door. He handed her the keys. She started the engine up, put the car in gear and they were on their way once more.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was a little after 7:30 that they got started. Carly was in a daze. It was almost like all feelings had left her. Her fear was completely gone. Or, not gone really, just kind of absent. It was like hanging off of a precipice by a rope and you knew that as long as you had hold of it you were all right. But the moment your hand began to slip, and you knew that that moment was inevitable, you would be filled with agonizing fear. For now, she was okay. She could take a breather from fear. But she knew that it might erupt again at any moment. For now, she was lost in an eddying rush of fate. The man was her guide. Wherever he took her, she would go. She was just along for the ride.
She felt the rope on her left leg as she drove. She felt like telling him that he didn’t need it now. She wouldn’t run. What was the sense? She pictured herself getting ten or fifteen feet away from the car, hearing a loud, ‘Bang!’ and then feeling a hole being punched in her back and erupting through her chest. No, she didn’t want to die that way. If he was going to kill her, she was going to make him, if she could, do it as a conscious, voluntary, depraved act, not as some visceral reaction to a perceived threat. Somehow, she would count it as a victory if he did it with a conscious, premeditated blow.
There was more traffic than when they started out last night. They came into a built up area almost right away. Several times they stopped at red lights with cars sitting right next to them in the next lane. Carly could see the people. They were going about their lives as if nothing had happened. Didn’t they know that the whole world had changed?
It was funny, it kind of made her see how shallow her life had been. She never paid any attention to the news. It was just stuff happening to other people. She rarely left her home town. Randy was kind and sweet to her, but he was, when you came down to it, Mr. Average, a safe choice. Her job was safe and unchallenging. She had given up any idea of going to college and being something else than a menial laborer. She never read any books anymore. She never went out and met new people. It was too bad she was learning so late how boring and predictable her life had become, now that her life was, for all practical purposes over.
For it was over. The man was going to kill her. She knew it. She didn’t want to hasten it. She would do whatever he said in order to breathe as many breaths as possible between now and then, live as much as she could live. And if it meant being the man’s sex slave, if it meant receiving the pleasures of the caresses of her own assassin, she would do it. If her life was meant to end, she intended to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of it that she could.
The man said nothing. He smoked, ate some chips. Smoked some more. His body was relaxed, but his eyes were always at work, scanning the road for police (they had seen a couple), danger, scanning her for any sign of rebellion. He was poised for action. She knew that if she started to talk, unless it was absolutely necessary, his fist would flash out like it did last night and strike her arm again, causing her disabling pain. He was tightly wound all right. And she was going to have to drive with him for almost 12 hours straight.
She thought of the blow job that she had given him when she had been released from her devilish confinements. It had amazed even her. She had never done anything like that before. Her life had never been in real danger before either. And neither had she been ever tied up unmercifully like that and had a man stand over her contemplating whether she should live or die. The best explanation she had for her behavior was that she wanted the man to know that she was his to do with as he liked. She would not resist him. And she would devote herself to his pleasure for as long as he would let her. And that she was sorry. Sorry for having offended him. Sorry for not understanding her place in this new world.
And it had been exciting! The most exciting thing she had ever done! Her heart began to beat a little faster now, while she was thinking of it. Her pussy began to burn. In a little more than 11 hours, she would be naked in his bed again. He would tie her up and use her, plow her with his magical prick. She would come again and again and again. And barring unforeseen catastrophe, she intended to be there tonight and obtain the pleasure she had earned.
At a little before 9, they drove into a built up area. Jack saw the sign for the bridge over the Mississippi. He had traveled this way a few times, running meth up to Minneapolis, delivering girls to their new pimps waiting for them in St. Paul, or to the Salvadorans waiting to run them down to Denver or places beyond. They usually drugged the girls all up, moved them two or three at a time in small vans. They would be given a shot in the basement of the clubhouse where they were kept pending sale or disposition, and wake up in a cage in the back of some other van heading to their new home.
He made the girl drive past the entrance to the bridge. He looked around carefully. This was the danger point. This is where they would be waiting. He saw nothing. About ten blocks past the bridge, he made her turn around and go past it again, slower this time. Still nothing. Maybe they were waiting for him on the other side, he thought. He didn’t want to drive by the bridge too often otherwise some cop who wasn’t even thinking about him might become suspicious and decide to make an inquiry.
They stopped about ten blocks past the bridge, back the way they came. He had her pull into a shopping center parking lot and turn around. He took out the gun.
“We’re going to cross that bridge,” he told her. “I want you to listen to whatever I say like it was the voice of God talking to you. I want instantaneous obedience. If I say, ‘Turn right!’ then turn right. If I say, ‘Turn left!’ then you do that. If I say to hit it, then I want you to put the pedal to the floor. Remember, the life you will save will be your own. You’re my hostage and if the cops get us stopped, I intend to shoot it out. Understand?”
The girl nodded back at him. He expected to see more fear in her face, but he saw, instead, what looked like excitement. Well, it would be exciting if the cops were waiting. He had the two extra clips for the Walther and the rest of the handguns from the army navy store fully loaded and an arm’s length away. “There will be a hail of bullets,” he thought to himself. That’s how the papers would describe it. The boys back at the pen would read it and know that he had gone down with flying colors, resolute to the last. And they would read about the girl and imagine for themselves the fun he had had with her before they died in a ‘hail’ of bullets. And they would be right. Fuckin’ eh! And, hopefully, more to follow tomorrow.
He had her pull up to the bridge. It was a left hand turn off lane. The light for the turn was red. Her blinker was on. He had the Walther in his lap. He kept flicking the safety on and off. He had already chambered a bullet. The light turned green. She looked quickly over at him, as if for permission, and then she edged the car across the opposite lane of traffic and entered the bridge lane. They went up a small ramp and then, presto, they were on the bridge.
The Mississippi here is not the thunderous river that it is down by Missouri and the more southern states. But it’s big enough. The water runs fast and strong. It has already been gaining momentum for over 250 miles. The bridge was steel frame with two lanes in each direction. It was relatively crowded for its 500 foot length. It was brightly lit. Jack was keeping his eyes peeled for any untoward movement on the other side of the bridge or, for that matter, behind him. It would be a great place to trap him, with cops on both sides and just the river below.
But nothing happened. The light was green on the other side. They sailed right through it. “Turn left,” he told he girl. They headed south
.
He leaned back and reached for a smoke, keeping half an eye on the rearview mirror. He lit it and looked at the girl. She seemed to have a sense of relaxation on her face too. It would have been a wild shoot out, that’s for sure. Her chances of survival would have been from slim to none. Apparently she knew it and that she had dodged a bullet, so to speak. She had done a good job, was cool from beginning to end. She had balls. He liked that.
The area was fairly well built up and the road was somewhat congested. Traffic was traveling at a decent pace though and soon they were out of the urbanized area near the bridge.
Just on the outskirts of the town, Jack saw something that intrigued him. It was an adult movie, book and novelty store. It was called the Whip and Chain. The front window was boarded up to conceal the nature of the merchandise and to cloak the customers in anonymity. He ordered the girl to pull into the parking lot.
It was a brown, wooden, one story structure. The back of the store fronted the road and all the parking was away from the street, something that suited Jack. He ordered the girl to pull into a parking space. There was only one other car there which Jack assumed was for the store clerk. It was a little after 9:30 and the sign on the tinted, glass door said that the store closed at 10. Before going into the store, Jack reminded the girl of the pistol in his pocket and the necessity of absolute obedience.
They walked in.
The store was small, about 30’ by 30’. The clerk sat behind a long, Formica counter. In front were several dozen garish and salacious publications. Behind the clerk, on the wall, were thirty or so different x-rated DVDs with voluptuous, willing, inviting naked women on the covers. The clerk was dressed in a rust red t-shirt with the name of the store on it, a denim vest and blue jeans. He was balding, about 35 or so, and wore a scraggly beard. His shoulders were broad and he stood maybe 6’2”. His middle bulged. There was an earring in his left ear made of gold. His forearms carried tattoos of strange, Asiatic style designs. He was reading a magazine. He barely looked at them.
