On the night of the abduction Heather was taken directly to the huge ornately appointed office of Alvero Ruiz. She was naked, her hands shackled behind her. On each ankle was a leather cuff. A twelve inch chain connected them. She was effectively hobbled.” He sat behind a massive ebony desk on which was a bottle of Chevez, a half filled glass, and a bucket of ice. Heather was made to sit on a plain chair facing him. His shirt was open exposing his hairy chest. His big belly hung over his belt. He was sweating profusely, his face red, his thinning hair and scraggly beard damp. She could smell him from where she sat.
“Do you know who I am?”
Heather glared at him her eyes filled with anger, “A murderer and drug dealer,” she said.
He rose from his chair and walked around to stand before her. Without warning, he slapped her so hard across the face she almost fell out of the chair. Her cheek was bright red with the imprint of his hand. She began to cry. He waited a moment then lifted her chin so she had to look up at him. “I’ll ask you again, who am I?”
“You’re a coward, a filthy Mexican coward,” she said.
He backhanded her twice so hard that she stopped hearing and the room went out of focus. He waited until she seemed somewhat recovered. Again, he lifted her chin so that she was staring up into his sneering face. Between his thumb and the index finger of his right hand he grabbed her nipple and twisted it viciously. She screamed. “Who am I?” he yelled.
The tears streamed down her face. She bowed her head, “A pig,” she whispered.
Quickly he walked to a cabinet in the wall, opened it, and selected a riding crop. Returning to stand in front of her, he raised the crop and brought it down with a cracking sound across her left breast. Again she screamed as the hot searing pain exploded. She groaned and hung her head, the tears flowing freely. He lightly touched her right breast with the crop. “Who am I!” he shouted. She said nothing. He lifted the crop and brought it down across her right breast. The scream caught in her throat as the room went out of focus. She passed out. Along the angry red whip marks were spots of blood where the skin had broken.
From his desk he took a small container of smelling salts and held it under her nose. After a few moments she coughed. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head so that she had to look up at him. In his right hand he still held the crop. “Who am I?” he asked once more.
“Alvero Ruiz,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he leaned closer to her, “and before long when I ask you to tell me and anyone else who I am you will answer by saying, ‘Alvero Ruiz, my master’.” He pressed a button on his desk. After a few moments the door swung open. Lobo, Ruiz’s lieutenant, grinned and nodded at his boss. Heather looked up at him and quickly turned away. He was tall and thin, his head skeleton like, his eyes sunken, his wide mouth and thin lips revealed yellow crooked teeth. His thinning hair hung down to his shoulders. He placed his long dirty fingers under Heather’s breast and lifted it slightly. “Looks like this white American bitch gonna need some trainin’,” he said.
Ruiz nodded, “Yeah, she like all the rest of them, fuckin’ spoiled. Needs to learn her place.” He waved a hand at Lobo, “Take her down to the kennel. Put her in Estella’s old crib. Tell Maria to explain to the bitch what her duties are and what happens to the cunts who resist.”
Lobo lifted her from the chair. She took a step but hobbled by the short chain connecting the ankle cuffs, she almost fell. Lobo caught her and pulled her close against him, his filthy hands on her ass cheeks. He smelled strongly of sweat and piss. She tried to back away but he held her tight. He looked back at Ruiz, “I’m gonna like fuckin’ this one,” he laughed.
“I expect we all gonna enjoy her once she’s broke in,” the older man replied.
Lobo grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the office and down a passage and then down dark narrow steps to a large basement area. She noticed a sign over the main doorway, “Bitches‘Kennel”. Along both sides of the hall that led to a large low ceilinged room were numbered doors to tiny cell like rooms. A few were open. She noticed a single small window high up on the outside wall of each room. It was barred. There was a barred window in the doors which could be locked from the outside. Each room contained a narrow bed, a small table with a single drawer and mirror, a clothes rack, and against the far wall a trough of some sort.” She heard running water. In one corner was a rusty tin sink. They stopped at number seven. Lobo opened the door with a big key and shoved her inside. She almost fell but regained her balance. He pushed her down on the bed. The room was, she guessed, no larger than a prison cell. The mattress was thin and soiled. It smelled lightly of cheap perfume. Lobo removed the handcuffs but left the hobbling chain and cuffs secured to her ankles. “You make any move and I’m gonna beat the shit out of you,” he said placing himself between her and the door. “This was Estella’s room. She drugged out. Couldn’t dance good no more or even fuck good. We dumped her in Mexico City where she’s either whoring for drugs or dead. Sooner or later that’s what happens to most of our bitches.” He grinned down at her. “But you’re a young one, strong and full of piss. All the boys gonna be wantin’ to fuck you when you’re on the line.”
Defiantly, she stared up at him, “It’s not going to happen,” she said. “I’m not some poor Mexican girl you took from a mountain village. I’m an American. My uncle is rich. I graduated from a fine university. I’m married.”
Lobo chuckled, “Yeah married to a fuckin’ monkey or ape or whatever the fuck he is. About that other stuff, that makes you more fuckable. The boys gonna want a rich American college girl.” He turned toward the door, “Maria be along soon to tell you how you gonna earn your keep.” The door slammed shut and she heard the key in the lock.
She sat on the filthy mattress and looked around. She saw a slight movement on the floor by the far wall. It was a rat. Her hands flew up to her mouth stifling a scream. The rat stared at her, then darted behind the sink. She leaned over, holding her head between her hands and sobbed for a long time. Her breasts throbbed where she had been whipped. After half an hour she heard a key in the lock and the door swung open. A short stocky Mexican woman in her fifties stood in the doorway holding a leather collar and a stainless steel length of chain. “What’s your name, bitch?” Heather turned away and said nothing.
The woman crossed to stand in front of her. Dropping the collar and chain, she grabbed Heather by the hair forcing her to look up. Quickly she backhanded Heather leaving red imprints on both of the girl’s cheeks. “You gotta answer when I ask,” she said.
“Heather, my name is Heather,” she stared up at the older woman defiantly.
“I think you’re a smartass cunt who maybe needs some time in the box.” She pointed to the floor, “Pick that stuff up and buckle the collar around your neck.” Reluctantly, Heather fastened the collar around her neck and then leaned down for the chain. The woman took it and snapped it to the “D” ring in the collar. “My name is Luz,” she said, “but you call me Mistress Luz. You got that?” Heather nodded. “Say it, bitch, speak up,” the Mexican woman shouted.
“Yes, Luz...I mean, Mistress Luz, I understand.”
“Now we take a tour and I tell you what you got to do to earn your bread and keep from getting whipped.” She yanked on the chain pulling Heather to her feet. Heather, completely naked, followed behind the older woman down a passageway along which were cell like rooms identical to the one she was given. The passage opened into a shabby dressing room. Make up tables with mirrors lined both walls. Heather counted eight of them. Two brown skinned young women were seated next to each other, applying mascara and lipstick. They were dressed, Heather decided, like cheap whores. On the floor near them were platform shoes with what appeared to be five inch heels.
Luz nodded to the girls who had looked up, “This the new bitch takin’ Estella’s place, number seven.”
“She white,” the nearest girls said.
“Yeah,” Luz smiled, “the boys be lining up for this one. M
aybe you girls get a break.”“ She tugged on the leash leading Heather through the far door and down another hallway that ended with a heavy door on each side. Luz pushed to open one on the left pulling Heather into a sort of barroom with tables and a small stage. A tall mulatto girl was pole dancing for the amusement of six or seven rough looking men who yelled obscenities at her. Except for stilettos, she was naked. Throbbing music blared from two speakers above the stage which was lit with a single blue light. The room smelled of marijuana smoke and cheap perfume. The black girl’s body glistened with sweat. When the men saw Heather they turned away from the stage and began shouting questions at Luz.
“What you got there, Luz?”
“Hey, is she for us. Did old Ruiz get us a white bitch?”
“When the fuck she goin’ on the line?”
“Jesus! A white cunt! Is she from the states or what?”
Luz grinned at them. “Yeah, you boys in for a treat once we get her broke. She’s an American college bitch, the one that was up at the professor’s place fuckin’ a goddamn ape.”
One of the men stood up and banged his hand on the table, “Holy shit, we got us an ape fucker!”
“A damn pretty one. I got a big bone to throw her right now.”
“Hey, Luz, get the bitch cleaned up and put her on the line.”
The girl on the stage had stopped dancing and stood leaning against the pole. Luz tugged on the chain pulling Heather forward. “Yeah, I expect she be ready by tomorrow night.” She turned to Heather. “Tell the boys your name and speak up,” she demanded.
“Heather.”
“And what is your number?”
“Seven.”
Luz nodded and looked out at the men, “So if you want her she answers to Heather or Seven.” She turned leading Heather out of the room amid shouts and laughter. She crossed the hall and pushed open the massive oak door on the other side of it. Heather gasped at what opened before her. Running down the length of the small room was a narrow table no higher than a cocktail table but slightly wider. Four girls, all brown or black, were kneeling along its length, each separated from the next one by about three feet. The girls were naked. They wore no shoes. Around their necks were collars like her own. These were secured to eyebolts by five inch lengths of chain forcing their heads down and their buttocks up. Spreader bars attached to their ankles parted their legs. They wore wrist cuffs. Their arms were pulled back between their spread legs, the wrist cuffs buckled to the ankle cuffs. Their faces were made up with mascara and lipstick. Their bodies had been rubbed with perfumed oil. Both their pubic area and anal openings had been shaved.
Behind the first girl stood a tall skinny black man” his dirty jeans and shorts were gathered around his boots. His hands were on the girls hips pulling her into him. His long black cock slid rhythmically in and out of her anal opening. There was no one behind or in front of the second girl but Heather watched as she bent her head over a line of white powder trying to draw as much of it into her nostrils as she could. A short fat balding man stood in front of the third girl, his hand on her head and he fucked her mouth. The last girl in the line was experiencing an orgasm as the Mexican behind her pounded his cock into her pussy.
Heather stood looking at the scene in front of her, “My God,” she said, “they are...they are...”
Luz smiled. “They’re doin’ doggie duty, four hours every other day. Two nights a week they work the pole in the room we just come from. Four nights a week each doggie is on call which means she spends a couple hours with whichever soldier wants her.”
Heather shook her head in disbelief. “That’s criminal. It’s...it’s slavery.”
“It’s a fringe benefit Captain Ruiz gives to his soldiers. You ain’t seen the girls complaining. They get a fringe benefit too. It’s that line of white powder you see Maria trying to sniff up her nose.”
“They’re drugged...you’ve made them addicts.”
“No, when they become addicts we take them to a city and dump them. That’s what happened to Estella. We keep them contented with a line or two of coke a day but Estella had one of the soldiers givin’ her lines on the side. Now she’s living on the streets and he’s dead.” The soldier who was fucking the girl’s mouth threw his head back and yelled as he pulled her tight against his crotch. The girl’s eyes widened as she began to gag, but she swallowed all of his cum and continued to suck until his limp cock slid from her mouth.
He turned toward Luz and Heather, “Ahhh, that was fuckin’ good. She got a sweet mouth.” He zipped up his fly. “Who’s the white cunt?”
“Estella’s replacement. She should be on the line tomorrow evening.”
“We ain’t never had no young white pussy. She gonna be a busy bitch.”
Heather shook her head, “You’re wrong, both of you. I’ll die before I submit to this...this...kind of degradation.”
Luz winked at the soldier, “Think maybe a night in the box might change her mind?”
He laughed, “Fuck yeah. It ain’t ever failed.”“ At the mention of the “box” all four of the girls looked at Heather. The closest shook her head. She saw in all of their faces a mixture of fear and sadness. Luz pulled on the chain and led Heather back to her cell like room where she attached the free end of the chain to an eyebolt in the wall next to the bed. She pushed the girl down to a sitting position. “You got a lot to learn,” she said. “Looks like you gonna learn the hard way.”
Heather looked up defiantly, “I will not...I absolutely will not become one of those poor creatures made to offer themselves like...like receptacles. I won’t dance for these cretins you call soldiers and I certainly won’t be one of their...their whores.”
The older woman smiled. “But you will, you arrogant bitch. You’ll do all of those things. Your mouth, your cunt, and your ass all three of your holes will be used and sometimes abused every day and most nights.” She leaned closer, “And you won’t resist. You won’t even complain.”
“Never!” Heather shot back.
“Tomorrow night you will quietly be taking your place on the line and offer your three holes to whatever filthy cocks want to enter them.” She turned and left, locking the door behind her.
Luz went directly to Ruiz’s office. He had been expecting her. “Well?” he asked.
“Just as you predicted. She needs a night in the box.”
“Do it then. Snakes or rats?”
“Rats, I think.”
“Ok, but feed them first. We don’t want them chewing on the merchandise.” Luz was about to leave when he held up his hand, “After a night in the box, let her sleep for a few hours then get her cleaned up and lookin’ good. Take eight or ten photographs of her then have Louis email them to the General.”
“He knows we have her?”
Ruiz shook his head, “He knows things before they happen.”
Heather was so exhausted that in spite of the collar and chain and filthy bed, she managed to fall asleep. At eight o’clock she was awakened by what she took to be a female child wearing faded jeans, flip-flops, and a soiled tee across which was written “Snow is Good Fucking Blow’. After sitting up, she saw that the child was really a dwarf, the stubby arms and legs, the square face, the wide mouth and big teeth. She placed a tray on the floor then unhooked the chain and pointed to the trough in the corner, “Piss, shit, whatever,” she said. Heather shook her head. “Gonna be awhile,” the dwarf cautioned. She indicated the tray. “Eat. I’ll be back in half hour. My name’s Abila.”
After the dwarf left, Heather heard the lock turn in the door. Not long after she’d finished the corn soup, bread, and tea, Abila was back accompanied by Lobo who held in his hand a pair of sturdy leather wrist cuffs. He held them up grinning at her.
“No!” she shouted backing into the corner of the cell. Both he and Abila grabbed her there and quickly cuffed her wrists behind her. She kicked out at them but Lobo smacked her hard across the face then threw her over his shoulder. She felt herself being car
ried down a long flight of stone steps which led to a small damp basement lit by one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. There were no windows. Lobo set her on her feet facing a squat cinder block structure that stood in the center of the room. “That’s the doghouse,” he said. “Bitches that don’t do what they’re told spend time in the doghouse.”
Abila who had followed them added, “When they come out, they don’t never want to go back.”
Heather turned to Lobo, “No, please don’t...” she began.
Instead of answering he dragged her forward while Abila swung open a solid steel door. Heather was forced inside, her hands still cuffed behind her. The enclosure was a four by four foot cube that permitted her to neither stand nor lie down. She had to sit or curl up in the fetal position. The floor was rough cement as was the ceiling. When the steel door slammed shut, she was in complete darkness. She couldn’t see the walls around her or even the floor under her. She struggled against the cuffs that bound her hands but they held fast. After an hour she began to yell and curse and finally to beg but gradually came to realize that no one beyond the thick walls could hear her. There was no way to stretch. Her arms ached. Every time she tried to change her position the rough floor and walls scratched her bare skin. She lost track of time. After what could have been an hour or five hours she heard something like a small door open above her head but it let in no light. She felt several live things fall on her legs and body and then heard the door slide shut. She screamed and curled up in a corner thrashing out with her legs. ‘Rats!’ she thought, ‘My God, they’re rats!’” They were. Three of them, small and recently fed but nonetheless rats. They scurried over her legs and feet. She felt the claws of one on her belly and another between her naked thighs moving toward her crotch. She clamped her legs together and heard it squeak and jump away. One had got behind her between her cuffed hands and her ass crack. As she knocked it away it bit her finger. She screamed until she had no voice left.” Sometime during the night she felt herself urinate. The puddle of piss burned her scratched skin. The rats’ fur was wet when they brushed against her. She felt one biting at her toes and kicked out at it.
Heather Page 8
