The System
Once the rings were all in place and the piercings healed, Syd was introduced to The Board.
The System, of course, had always existed, but the great leap forward it took when the on line social networks began to flourish was unexpected and highly lucrative for them. The great beauty of social networking, as far as Graf Salmon and his organization were concerned, was that people who otherwise would lead quiet, unknown lives are exposed to the entire world, displaying their wants, needs, fears, perversions, occupations, family ties, bank accounts, vocations and vacations blatantly and with little protection. With over a billion gullible and self-centered souls to choose from, operations like The System thrived on this enormous treasure trove of highly personal data. The privacy myth that the major sites continued to supposedly offer was a mere gauzy curtain protecting little or nothing. Still, the masses happily jumped off the privacy cliff, either certain that they had nothing to lose or simply too dumb to see that each tidbit of personal data they posted provided a closer clandestine link to them for those who had other, less healthy interests.
Despite her treatment at the hands of those who abused her, Sydney Price’s mind was still very much intact. She had not been actually physically tortured so much as she was constantly reminded and motivated about doing what she was told to do as quickly and accurately as she could. Syd was not the kind of woman to resist anything for very long. In her life, she had adapted to doting parents, sadistic teachers and coaches and stupid boy friends who were so transparent about their wanting little more than a quick lay and an attractive companion to display. Employers saw her as an attractive, but not really critical member of their work force. Syd’s past life and her initial abduction at the Frankfurt hotel was a long ago, nearly forgotten incident. More recently, Syd concentrated on improving her physical assets, martial arts skills, running speed and endurance, technical expertise in electronics and other skills which, in the past, she had not even thought about. This kind of training was something she was slowly coming to enjoy. She also relished the “benefits,” that went with the training, like boarding and the wagon.
Being boarded was not a pleasant experience for anyone. Once the rings were all in place and the piercings healed, Syd was introduced to The Board. This was not the corporate Board of Directors. It was a heavy metal plate, probably made from titanium or aluminum, formed to match the outline of a human torso. The board was placed against her belly and connected to her with locking links at each imbedded ring. When fully fitted, the board was closely linked to her nose, tongue, neck, nipples, waist and lower lips. In other words, Syd was linked tightly to a flat metal surface that went from nose to pussy. This arrangement restricted any bending of the waist or neck and was more onerous than it seemed. Additional metal cuffs went around her upper thighs to complete the attachment. She was made to kneel and fitted with the usual pony boots with their heavy steel shoes. A special head harness and bridle arrangement augmented her collar and the chain links holding her tongue and nose to the metal plate. The first time she was boarded, Syd resisted and was immediately removed from the board and soundly flogged, hanging by her wrists from a single chain from the overhead, gagged and blindfolded. Her back, breasts, thighs and stomach were criss-crossed with the marks from the leather flail. As soon as she was cut down, she was again fitted with the board. She resisted again, but not as strongly as before, but her keepers, demonstrating great patience, simply removed the board and strung her up once again, this time adding a leather discipline helmet and leaving her hanging for an hour before the beating resumed.
Three repetitions of this treatment had the desired effect, however temporary. Sydney soon realized that the way to alleviate her pain and discomfort was to do as she was told, so she allowed them to board her once again, fit her with the pony shoe boots, shackle her booted ankles and wrists and then hitch her to a low, almost flat wagon with an odd metal pole sticking out in front. The end of the pole was a two-pronged fork. Attached to the tine of the fork was a molded plastic cock of considerable proportions. This was inserted, once it was properly lubricated, into Syd’s cunt while she knelt, confined to the board. A second cock of similar proportions was produced, attached to the other tine of the fork on the lead pole of the wagon and also inserted into Syd, this time into her ass. Then chains and straps were attached to the board and to the lead pole, holding her impaled with no way to remove the double prongs unless these bindings were released.
Sydney whined and moaned as the arrangement was tuned to the point where the wagon followed directly behind her as she moved on all fours with the dual plugs shifting about inside her and sliding slightly in and out of her lower apertures with each movement. Weights were loaded onto the wagon. As an added incentive, the internal probes were unpredictably energized with electrical charges varying from shock to vibrations if she slowed or tried to stop.
A helmet with earphones was fitted and strapped to her head, completing her outfit. The helmet’s radio received and played a series of instructional lessons endlessly. The content of these lessons was that she would obey, always, no matter what, doing as she was told at once without consideration for her own life, safety or survival. Once all was in readiness, she was led to a circular track at one end of the building, hitched by nose and or tongue to a moving post mounted on a track in the flooring and left to endure the day’s exercises, which consisted of being led around the circular track with the wagon following. At intervals when she was allowed a break, additional weights were loaded onto the wagon and then the exercise began again. Boarded and dragged around the track by her nose daily for two weeks, Syd learned to do as she was told.
One day, immediately following the track routine, she was taken from her cell, handcuffed and escorted to a small office on one of the upper floors. They told her to sit in a wooden chair and then two men and two women she did not know sat down at a table opposite her and told her what she would be doing next. In essence, they told her that she was now ready to carry out their directions concerning certain activities in a distant city. She and an associate would hold up a bank courier, rob him or her and take only what they were instructed to take, leaving the rest. Her training thus far had familiarized her with the details of such an operation, including how to identify bogus couriers, traps and other possible obstacles.
“Do you have any questions?” the lead man asked when the briefing was over.
Syd shook her head. She had, as per her training, learned not to speak or make any other audible sounds.
“Good. You will be returned to your room and held there until your mission is programmed. Between now and then, you may undergo a few reminder experiences to serve as memory references to what will happen is you final in your mission. Leave now,” one of the women said without even looking at Sydney.
Syd left the room escorted and was walked back to the elevator and taken back down to the lower levels where she was returned to her silent, empty cell. There, she was again chained to the heavy rings on the wall, fitted with the customary metal helmet that sealed ears, eyes and mouth, and left to contemplate what fate awaited her. A few hours later, someone entered the cell, sat in a heavy chair they brought in with them and unfastened Syd from the hall chains and placed over their knees, face down. What followed was what Syd assumed was a “reminder” that the woman mentioned earlier. Her cuffed hands were attached to a floor ring, her ankles were spread and chained wide and she was slowly spanked with a weighted glove for nearly a half hour. There was no commentary. No words were spoken and she remained gagged. The heavy leather hand fell relentlessly on her exposed buttocks, her thighs and her cunt. The center of crotch blows were the worst, making Syd tremble in anticipation, only to be struck in some other, nearby place, but always painfully. In the first few minutes of this spanking, her ass was pepper-red and displayed dozens of swollen handprints. By the end of the session, when she was returned to her previous restraints, Syd’s butt and thigh backs were hot and
glowing, making any resting position out of the question, so she lay chained and still in the harsh discipline helmet, on her stomach and breasts, wondering how many of these reminder sessions she’d have to endure before undertaking her mission and thinking that if she had to sit down at any time in the next few days, it would be excruciating.
She then remembered that one of the men in the briefing room told her that if she succeeded on this mission, she would be granted improved living conditions and that with each subsequent mission her life here or elsewhere in The System would greatly improve. If she failed in any way, she would be sold off to unnamed parties in some other distant location.
The briefing, Syd recalled, included some video clips of several unfortunates being trucked off to serve as sex and bondage slaves. The video was impressive and the images of the women, bound and chained in coffle, shuffling off to some hell hole at the end of the earth to vanish forever, was imprinted deep in Syd’s mind.
Sydney Price wondered, as she lay facedown on the cold stone floor and drifted off to sleep, exactly how this all came about and what would, in the end, happen to her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Brillcart View
“My name is Rhonda and I’m here to help you,” she said as she slipped a pair of hinged handcuffs around Emily’s slim wrists.
Emil Brillcart studied the video carefully. At his hand commands, the hooded, uncomfortably bound female assistant stopped, paused and reversed the clip several times until he finally waved her away. As the woman shuffled out of the viewing room, her chains rattling softly, Brillcart picked up one Nokia cell phone from the arrangement of five on his desk and pressed one button. The line was answered by a woman who spoke only one word: “plans.”
Brillcart said, “proceed with Oscar and Papa,” and then pressed the “end” button on the phone. These five words put two more of his many criminal plans into operation. If his calls were being monitored, a possibility that Brillcart considered to be almost one hundred percent likely, he felt secure enough in the knowledge that those doing the bugging would knock themselves out trying to figure out what the two codes words meant. Was it another bank theft on some urban street in Calcutta, Tokyo, Mumbai, Capetown or Los Angeles? Was it even Brillcart speaking? Even without encryption, which he could easily have used, Brillcart knew that the government’s lack of skilled manpower and resources in any one of a thousand locations where he could strike was in his favor as well. Certainly, they were not up to surveying his entire empire and most of his nefarious activities. The best part of being a mega criminal mastermind, he often said to his subordinates when they might have questioned his plans, was that there simply weren’t enough cops to stop him. Brillcart would often repeat a line he once read in the Los Angeles Times. The statement was attributed to a man, now dead, who had taken on a U.S. government federal agency that was exhausting its manpower and resources trying to find him and indict him for various, if not somewhat mundane, misdoings. Asked if he feared the federal agency, the man, a native of the state of Alabama and thus familiar with alligators, told news reporters: “We have more tail than they have teeth.” This bold public challenge went viral, but to Brillcart, it sounded like an appropriate response. He neglected to mention that the individual’s comments simply served to intensify the government’s efforts to convict him and he eventually spent seven years in a federal prison.
So Oscar and Papa, two more small incidents that would end up in the unsolved cases files of Interpol and perhaps some other LE agencies, were about to go active. For Brillcart, these two plots were no more significant than the length of chain that currently held his most recent acquisition dangling from the ceiling in an adjacent hallway. The suspended girl was one of the incidental windfalls that fascinated Brillcart because of her stupidity and the cunning and rapid reaction of his hunter teams. Stumbling out of one of dozens of exit doors in Madrid’s central train station, Emily May Willis stopped to change hands on the roller luggage trailing behind her. In an instant, two women in dark overcoats swooped down beside her, one taking Emily by the arm and one taking her trolley suitcase.
“We’ll help you,” one woman said as she gently guided the girl into a waiting Audi sedan, shoved her easily into the back seat and got in next to her.
“My name is Rhonda and I’m here to help you,” she said with a big smile as she slipped a pair of hinged handcuffs around Emily’s slim wrists.
The other woman went around the left side of the auto and entered the rear door, sandwiching the pretty young girl from Baltimore, Maryland, USA between her two captors.
“But...” was all Emily got to say because she was immediately rendered speechless and nearly soundless as the leather gag bulb was thrust into her half open mouth and her upper were strapped behind her back. A thin leather strap went around her ankles and another around her lower thighs. As the Audi pulled away from the station, Emily glanced back over her shoulder at the fading lights and wondered what the Hell was happening.
“We aren’t going to harm you, are we, Bea?” Rhonda, the woman on the right said, adjusting yet another strap around Emily’s lower arms and pulling it tight until the girl felt her shoulders scream with the strain and her elbows, still inside her leather jacket, touched.
“Well, that isn’t really true, is it, Cat?” said Bea, the second woman, to Catherine, her second accomplice, who was driving fast away from the central station and towards the main road that would take them out of the city. “We will hurt her and perhaps even harm her unless she cooperates fully, right?”
“Right,” echoed Rhonda, leaning back into the rear seat and pulling the terrified American woman with her. Rhonda’s left hand was already sliding up the inside of Emily’s right thigh, the fingers pinching the smooth lycra/spandex fabric of Emily’s dark pantyhose where it met her crotch. Emily jerked in the restraining straps, gurgled and hummed into the mouth-filling gag, still stunned at the sudden change in events. For an unfortunate few moments immediately after they attacked her, Emily actually though that perhaps these women had been sent to pick her up as a courtesy from the hotel. It only took the large ball gag being thrust into her gaping mouth and the multiple leather bands around her wrists and ankles for Emily to realize that this was not a courtesy ride. But that realization came much too late.
The woman on her left suddenly reached out with her right hand and, pulling open the front zipper on Emily’s jacket, wrapped her hand around the girl’s left breast and squeezed. Emily jerked, trying to pull away from these two vicious women who were tormenting her, one with her hand now deep in Emily’s sex and the other messaging her breast in a way that would have made the girl scream if her mouth hadn’t been so well plugged.
“You know what cooperate means, don’t you, little cunt,” Rhonda said sharply as she dug the long nail of her middle finger deeper into the center of Emily’s sex. Rhonda was adroit at this sort of sexual violation and knew exactly how to sever the feeble barriers of pantyhose and panties on other women. She was equally facile at unfastening any sort of bra on her victims, but in this case, Emily apparently hadn’t felt the need to wear such an appliance on the train from the airport. Expecting only a short walk to her hotel near the train station, Emily didn’t plan on being kidnapped and violated, let alone by three women who seemed to know their jobs extremely well.
“We’ve got a long ride, cunt,” Bea said, torturing the same breast once again, but this time after she sliced open the girl’s shirt and exposed the entire jiggling, sweating chest. Emily’s abductors noted the tan lines on her breasts and traced the well defined line of suntan on the white, slightly freckled upper surface of the swelling mounds. “Been doing a little sun bathing, have we?” she asked as her fingers again found the now fright-stimulated nipple. “We have some tanning devices that you’ll perhaps enjoy as well,” she said with a nasty, sarcastic grin. She found it amusing that her suffering captive would soon discover that the tanning marks left by the sun were far less da
maging or painful than the marks left by a cane or crop. “Exactly how unpleasant this trip is for you depends once again, on that word, cooperation,” she concluded.
Getting little positive response from their struggling charge, the two abductors set about making their involuntary guest more accessible for what they had in mind. As they worked they chatted with the driver.
“Cat, we’ll have some fun back here until we get to Toledo and then I’ll switch places with you. Okay?”
“Sure. Try and leave some scraps for me, though. She’s a tender piece, I think. You know what happens if Mister B thinks she’s been, ah, what does he call it, over violated?”
“Right. We’ll leave you some yummies, don’t worry,” chimed Rhonda as she adjusted a short strap from the center rear seat headrest so that it mated with the wide posture collar she wrapped around Emily’s thin neck. This was more than a conventional posture collar. It had a built in gag with its own strap, a sort of boned leather extension that came down over the shoulders and straps that fastened under the arms to hold it snugly in place. Two straps went over the top of the head and secured on each side with ratchet buckles. A third strap went for the front with extensions to each side of the well plugged mouth, up over the forehead between the eyes and buckled at the back. The built-in gag was a soft-lined leather pad that sealed the area around the mouth and was tightly belted over the lacing and straps at the rear of the entire garment. There were leather loops on each side of the harness to allow a padded blindfold to be fitted as well.
“This headgear is extremely effective,” Rhonda said as she continued to tighten and align the straps so that Emily’s neck and head were totally enveloped and immoveable. AT this point, the captive girl was both silent and unresponsive, so Rhonda tweaked a nipple and got the expected response, demonstrating that their prisoner was still very much alive.
Once the collar and its head harness were in place, the strap from the headrest went through a ring on the back of the collar and back to the headrest, then to a D ring on the top of the harness. It was tightened to the point where Emily was sitting straight up with her head forced back, unable to look at anything except a thin slice of the car’s forward windshield and the interior roof liner.
The Couriers Page 17
