Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  When the full hour was up, Jeremiah turned off the electric box. He opened the cover and released Denise from her bindings. The girl was shaking from her ordeal. She looked at Jeremiah fearfully, praying that he would not torture her any more. She hoped and prayed that she could satisfy his questions. Jeremiah helped her rise off of the probes that had filled her. When she was fully out of the apparatus, she fell to the floor and, kneeling over, tried to kiss his feet. Of course she was still gagged, but it made no difference to her. She wanted to express her supplication to Jeremiah in the clearest, plainest way.

  The overseer laughed. He reached down and released the gag from behind her head. When the gag was out, she resumed her worship of his feet, licking and kissing his toes and instep. “Get up on your knees, white bitch!” Jeremiah ordered. He had no sympathy for these stupid women.

  “Please don’t hurt me any more, please, oh please!” Denise begged. Tears were running down her face. Then she remembered Jeremiah’s final words to her before he locked her in the devilish device. “Oh please, master, please let me suck your cock, please, I beg you,” she cried out abjectly.

  Jeremiah just stood and looked at her. It was ironic that the stupid white man named Lenny had already told him everything. But this one needed to be broken anyway. Now she was. Everything usually worked out for the best.

  Denise was now nuzzling his crotch, hoping to get her lips on his manhood. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head away. He was wearing his usual white caftan, and needed to draw it off of himself before she could do him service.

  When he stood naked before her, Denise seized his cock with her lips. Jeremiah’s cock was hard with anticipation and she was able to slide her lips down the thick shaft. Her tongue worked frantically to pleasure Jeremiah’s stiff instrument. She began to bob her head back and forth rapidly in her desperate desire to bring him pleasure. But Jeremiah was having none of that. He grabbed her hair and stilled her head.

  “Just keep your mouth open, white slut, I will do the work,” he said to her contemptuously. He began to slowly work Denise’s head back and forth over his cock. He pushed it down against his loins, feeding his thick piece into her throat. He then withdrew it slowly, until only the tip was between her lips.

  Denise soon got the rhythm that the slave master desired. She let her tongue float over the iron rod that pierced her throat and pursed her lips around the shaft when the powerful black man drew it out again. At this moment, having Jeremiah’s cock in her mouth and pleasuring him was the greatest thing in the world, the object of her heart’s desire. She was grateful that she was permitted to show him her complete surrender. She joyfully felt the thick rod pass the entrance to her esophagus and fill it to bursting. Fire was building in her loins as she let her passion run wild. She imagined the thick meat pummeling her pussy. She wanted this terrifying black man to fill all her holes at once, to possess her absolutely.

  Jeremiah slowly let his lust build. Now that his doubts had been cleared away by the capture of the Turk, this slut was proving her worth. He would be sure to express his gratitude to the foolish white man for arranging to have her sent to Katango.

  Jeremiah felt his surge of lust coming on. He pushed Denise’s head fully against his stomach. Her throat bulged as his manhood filled it. His cock began to throb and then he felt the shock of his orgasm go through him. He pumped his seed down the white slut’s throat, rolling his eyes back in ecstasy. Denise was struggling for air as he jetted his last spasm of fluid into her belly. He pulled himself from her mouth and let her slump on the ground before him. Maybe tomorrow they would have the wedding and the day after he would bring her back here for more agony and pleasure. Next time he wanted to hear her scream with pain.

  * * *

  The Turk had just cut through the leather around Justine’s wrists when they heard heavy boots walking up the concrete path outside. They both quickly put their backs against the wall, Justine keeping her arms behind her. Two soldiers dragged a dark haired white woman into the room with them. She was limp in their arms.

  Lenny walked in behind the soldiers. “Hiya, Turk,” he said. “Look who dropped in. Your old friend Nora.”

  The Turk guessed that Lenny had sent Nora the landing signal. When she landed, she had been seized. It looked like she had been worked over.

  Lenny had the soldiers drop Nora on the table that dominated the room, the same table on which both Cheryl and Denise had been freed from their black boxes. The men quickly began to strip the semi-conscious girl, ripping and tearing her clothes from her. The soldiers smiled and laughed as her pale white breasts were revealed and her dark thatched cunt. Nora was stirring awake now and, at Lenny’s urgings, she was stood up next to the table and her wrists affixed to rings at the corners. Her legs were then spread and tied to the legs of the table. The soldiers laughed, pinching her tits and slapping her behind. Then, there was gunfire in the distance. The soldiers’ heads snapped to alertness and they ran from the room. That left the snarling, traitorous Lenny.

  “You know that I will kill you Lenny,” the Turk told him calmly.

  “Oh, I doubt it Turk, my boy. You see, as soon as this Stoner guy gets back, he’s gonna arrange a little party for you.”

  “No, Lenny. I’ll be holding the party, don’t you worry,” the Turk responded calmly.

  “You don’t look like you’re calling the shots now Turk,” Lenny retorted. “Before they send you off, I’m going to ask them to let me fuck your little girl friends right in front of you.”

  Lenny turned to the stirring Nora. “And now I’m going to fuck this dyke in the ass,” he said menacingly. “She’ll be serving the troops in the barracks before nightfall and I want to get my piece of her now before she’s all sloppy.”

  Lenny opened his pants and let them fall to the floor. His cock was rampant with lust. He slapped Nora on the buttocks.

  “Hey, Nora,” he taunted her, “when’s the last time you were fucked in the ass?”

  The black haired naked woman was alert now. She pulled at her bindings frustratingly. “Fuck you, Lenny!” she yelled.

  “No, Nora,” he returned, “fuck you!”

  Lenny spit on his dick and began to press it into the puckered entrance to Nora’s bowels. She squirmed and twisted, but could not free herself to fight him off. She grunted with pain as his cock split the ring of flesh. She gripped her hands tightly and gritted her teeth, not wanting to show Lenny any sign of weakness.

  It was good that she was taking up all of Lenny’s attention, because Justine was busily trying to undo the Turk’s hands. Lenny moaned with pleasure as he finally sank to the hilt into Nora’s recesses. He closed his eyes and started pumping wildly into her. Nora groaned and struggled to no avail.

  Justine finally was able to loosen the thongs around the Turk’s wrists. He freed his hands and frantically attempted to free his legs. Just as he reached down, Lenny looked over. His eyes widened with shock to see the Turk’s hands free. He pulled his cock from Nora and stepped back. The Turk, seeing his only chance, pushed himself to his feet and leaped at Lenny. Lenny tried to jump back, but tripped on his pants, which were still around his ankles.

  Turk landed atop Lenny. Lenny screamed for help. Turk grabbed him around the throat, cutting off his cry. He butted him in the face with his forehead. Lenny groaned and went limp. As Turk was pressing the life out of him with his bare hands, Lenny’s legs began to shiver and dance. They kicked wildly twice and then lay still. A moment later, Lenny’s throat rattled and he died.

  * * *

  Stoner and a few of his men had barely made it back to the helicopter. All hell had broken loose just when he thought that he had a small band of rebels trapped. Two dozen rebels had died gallantly, serving as bait to draw Stoner in. Then two hundred attacked. Stoner had no wish to die for his little piece of Africa. It was time to call it quits. He had maybe a hundred million dollars in Swiss accounts, money that he had siphoned off every aid project that had come to Ka
tango, plus the profits from his various enterprises. He could live off of that. He would find a small island country he could buy into. Somewhere that would allow him to continue his nefarious hobbies.

  Stoner had been about twenty yards from the helicopter when his advance troops had been overrun. He dashed for the copter and jumped aboard along with four or five of his more astute men. He ordered the pilot to take off. He could see the frantic faces of his abandoned troops looking skywards as the helicopter rose and removed itself from the zone of danger.

  He had not been able to contact Kurim for about twenty minutes and now he knew why. While in flight he tried to reach several of the other outposts by radio. No luck. His empire was going to Hell in a hand basket.

  When the copter landed back at the mansion, he ordered the pilot to gas up. It wouldn’t do to run out of fuel in the middle of his escape. The copter was his ticket out. He hopped off and dashed inside. He needed the Swiss passbooks, the bearer bonds and some cash.

  Jeremiah had brought Denise back up to Stoner’s bedroom and tied her to the post opposite Cheryl’s. He taunted the sisters with the discovery of the Turk’s plot. Being gagged, they didn’t have much to say about it, but their forlorn faces told the tale.

  He was surprised when Stoner burst into the bedroom. He had obeyed his lord’s request and brought the valise containing the financial documents that Stoner needed. It was the first thing that Stoner asked for.

  “Where’s the fucking briefcase?” he snarled.

  “Here, Master Stoner,” Jeremiah answered, pointing to the valise in the corner of the room. Jeremiah was perplexed. Surely the master had beaten the rebels back. Or had he?

  Stoner saw the look of wonder on Jeremiah’s face. “It’s all over,” he yelled at him. “Get me a can of kerosene and get whatever you need. The helicopter is taking off in ten minutes.”

  Jeremiah understood at once. If he were caught by the rebels, they would roast him on a fire. He took off for his chambers. He had a suitcase too.

  * * *

  Right at that moment, the Turk would have given his right arm for a weapon. He could hear sustained small arms fire not more than a half mile away. He needed to get to the mansion, but he could see desperate soldiers fleeing every which way, shooting randomly. And he had two naked women to think of.

  Nora and Justine crouched behind the Turk as he peered out the door of the concrete hut. Nora’s ass was sore, but she was otherwise none the worse for wear. Justine was ecstatic that delivery seemed to be at hand. Turk poked his head back in.

  “We’ve got about 50 yards to cross before we get to the Mansion. We’ll have to run fast. Don’t stop for anything. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s a very dangerous place right now.”

  He turned to Justine. “Where do you think the girls are?” he asked her.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “There’s really only two places, either upstairs in the dormitory or in Stoner’s room. That must have been him coming in on the helicopter. I think I saw him running into the house.”

  “Right. Let’s hope he runs back out of the house again quick. He’s undoubtedly armed and I’m not.”

  Turk took one last look around. There seemed to be a lull in the excitement. “Okay, run!” he said.

  * * *

  Jeremiah had grabbed a bottle of kerosene from the kitchen. He was also carrying his suitcase full of gold and cash. It was all of the money he had saved from whoring out Stoner’s wives over the years. He knew that someday it would prove providential. All he needed now was a ride out of here. He needed a place on the helicopter. He had an idea why Stoner wanted the kerosene.

  Stoner had quickly disrobed and changed into civilian clothes. He reaffixed the .45 to his belt. There were some mementos and keepsakes he wanted to save, and he was shoving them into a small gym bag when he saw Jeremiah come in with the kerosene and a suitcase. He turned to the women standing bound to the four posters of his bed.

  “Well, ladies,” he said. “I guess this is goodbye. It’s been a real pleasure fucking you.” He grabbed Denise’s breast and twisted it. Denise moaned in pain. “Sorry we didn’t really get to know each other,” he said to her caustically. “I bet you’re a great whore.”

  He grabbed the bottle of kerosene from his factotum.

  “And I have a little surprise for all of you,” he said to the women. He started pouring the combustible liquid over the mattress and sheets. “You’re all going up in flames,” he said almost gleefully. “Consider it a parting gift.” Stoner’s eyes were wide with a furious madness. “Everything must burn,” he said. He poured kerosene around the feet of all the women. They were moaning and crying, frantically pulling at their bonds. To be burned alive! It was the ultimate torture.

  When Stoner had finished emptying the kerosene bottle, he turned to Jeremiah. He had seen the suitcase Jeremiah had brought with him and he had a good idea of what was in it.

  “Got your treasure with you, Jeremiah?” he asked.

  Jeremiah nodded. “Yes, Master Stoner. But we must leave. The rebels….”

  “Yes the rebels,” Stoner replied. “But first you and I must settle a little business.” He pulled his .45 from his holster.

  “How much do you think you earned from whoring out my wives, Jeremiah?” he asked.

  Jeremiah was shocked. He had no idea that Stoner knew. His palms began to sweat. “I don’t know Master Stoner,” he said nervously.

  “Well, since it was my wives all those men were fucking, don’t you think that that money really belongs to me?”

  Jeremiah looked at Stoner with hatred. This man was going to steal his life savings. He opened his mouth to curse the white devil.

  He never got a chance to say a word. Stoner fired the .45 right into his chest. It blew him back about ten feet and he crashed to the floor. Stoner smiled. “That fucking black bastard,” he thought. No one stole from him!

  He turned to the doomed women. He only wished that he could stay and watch them burn. He put the pistol back in its holster, smiled, and took a book of matches from his pocket. He pulled out a match. The smell of kerosene permeated he room. He stepped back a few feet from the bed.

  Just then, the door came crashing open. The Turk stood in the doorway. His chest was heaving from running. He took a quick look around the room. He smelled the kerosene. He saw Stoner standing, poised. He attacked.

  Stoner reached for his .45 once he had gotten over the shock of seeing the doors to his bedroom flung open. He just got it clear of the holster when the Turk came crashing into him. It stumbled from his hand. The two giant men wrestled on the floor. Each knew that he was fighting for his life. Stoner’s big fist struck the Turk on the side of the head and he saw stars. Stoner took advantage of the Turk’s momentary distraction to push him off of his body and crawl towards the gun. The Turk recovered quickly and he grabbed Stoner’s foot and dragged him away from it.

  Stoner turned his body and struck out with his other foot. He caught Turk in the groin and the man went down. Stoner tried to rise, but Turk was back on top of him. The men traded blows as they rolled about the room. Nora and Justine looked on stunned. Nora tried to make a break for the gun, but Stoner, having risen and seeing this, crashed his fist into her head, knocking her senseless. The desperate struggles of the behemoths had knocked debris all around the room. The racks of whips fell from the wall and spilled across the floor. Stoner grabbed a small stone statuette from the credenza and smashed it into the Turk’s head.

  The Turk fell, stunned. Seeing his foe on the floor Stoner calmly walked over to the .45 and picked it up. He pointed it at the Turk. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m going to put out your lights.”

  Just as he was about to shoot, a lash struck out at his hand. The gun flew to the floor as Stoner screamed out in pain. It was Nora. She had seen the bullwhip on the floor and had seized it just in time to place its biting tip on Stoner’s hand. But Stoner rapidly recovered. Before Nora had
time to wield the whip again in the close confines of the bedroom, he rolled to the floor and scooped the weapon back up. He pointed it at Nora. “Lots of new people here today,” he said menacingly.

  The Turk had recovered from the blow to his head and had struggled to his feet. He saw Stoner with the pistol aimed at Nora. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the crossed African spears that Stoner had mounted on the wall as decorations. He grabbed one and let out a mighty roar, rushing Stoner like a madman. Stoner turned to meet the challenge, swinging the .45 into play. He was too late. The Turk pierced the evil man right through the chest. The force of his blow sent Stoner reeling back and the spear pinned him against the wall. His body convulsed twice and he was gone.

  Just then a commotion was heard in the hall. Shots were fired. Four gunmen, wielding automatic weapons and dressed in native garb came rushing into the room. They saw the mighty figure of the Turk, bloodied and battered staring back at them. Turk put his hands up. The nervous men approached him, their finger’s poised on the triggers of their weapons. The Turk’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the floor.

  PART FIFTEEN

  A NEW DEAL

  When The Turk awoke, he was lying in a large four poster bed. His head ached. Two black men, dressed in colorful, flowing shirts and khaki shorts, sat across from him, balancing automatic rifles on their laps. One of them saw that the Turk was awake. He nudged the other and then got up and left the room. The Turk’s head felt like he had been clobbered with a brick, which, of course it had. There was a large bump on the side. Turk touched it delicately as he tried to piece together where he was and what he was doing here. Slowly, it came back to him. The women had been strung up like sacrifices to an angry god. He had fought with a man, probably Stoner, himself. The natives had rushed in and all went black. “Cheryl!” he thought. What had happened to Cheryl? And Nora! He tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea swept over him. The man at the foot of the bed clicked the safety off of the rifle. After about a minute, the door opened and a tall, black man of regal bearing, wearing jungle fatigues and sporting a pistol on his belt appeared.