From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:09:51 1997
From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: Doc's Orders: An Introduction
Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:09:51 GMT
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About Doc's Orders
==================
It all started with "Captured Caroline" my long term project for
A.S.S. Because of various rewrites I had a number of scenes left
over, scenes that it was impossible to reuse in the current CC
storyline.
So I created "Scattered Scenes" a methord of reusing these scenes by
tying them together into a single independant story. The first of
these call "The Hitch Hikers Guide to Slavery" deliberately finished
part way through a story. This is because "Scattered Scenes" were
never meant to be complete but like Suki's Images just bit's and
pieces of erotica.
But enough people wrote in wanting more. So I've expanded "Hitch
Hikers" Into Doc's orders.
Enjoy.....
Quin
From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:09:51 1997
From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap1 "The Hitchhikers Guide to Slavery" (Mf/ff, B&D, NC Kidnap)
Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:09:51 GMT
Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net
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************************************************************
STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it
is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the
author.
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Quin 1997
tmquin@ibm.net
************************************************************
Doc's Orders by Quin
==================
Chapter 1 "The Hitchhikers Guide to Slavery"
=====================================
I was returning from Vermont cursing Doc and his timing. I admit I
*had* promised to look after his delivery problems personally. I can
even vaguely remember taking his retainer but I hadn't agreed to work
Easter week and especially not during my first vacation in three
years. For God sake my new Snowboard had hardly even been christened.
I told myself that whatever the job was it had better be good . I
wondered just why I had dropped everything to head back.
I could still remember Doc's phone call that morning, his British
accent so polite yet so demanding. "But Charles old boy I thought we
had a deal. You know that I wouldn't ask if the assignment didn't
require your special flair. Besides I believe Kitten is preparing a
special dinner and you *know* how much she looks forward to having you
over...."
Kitten, he knew I couldn't refuse her. She was my invisible leash,
his guarantee that he could reel me back at any time. So here I was
cruising the back roads of Worcester County MA on an cold overcast
Easter evening wondering just why he needed me so desperately.
I was so caught up in events that at first I didn't even notice them.
I suppose we've all seen hitchers from time to time, huddled by the
side of the road waving those pathetic little signs. They look at you
with such hope as you approach that it's almost impossible to drive
away without feeling a complete heel. I mean, most of the time when
I'm working I'm simply not allowed to stop, but somehow that doesn't
make me feel any less guilty.
I moment I saw those two I could tell there was something odd about
them. There was no sign, no warm clothes, hell they didn't even signal
until I was almost past them. I glanced in my mirror. Two young
girls alone and in the middle of nowhere. In some countries it would
be a trap, an obvious ploy of carjackers or robbers but this was New
England and I doubted it was anything that crude. Still, five years
of Advanced Recon teaches you to take nothing at face value. I pulled
up a good distance ahead of them and picked my spot so that any
potential ambusher would have to break cover to reach me.
In my mirror I watched as they ran up. The leading girl looked to be
sixteen or seventeen, well built, perhaps five nine with shoulder
length blonde hair. She was dressed in a waist length leather jacket
and a knee length plad skirt. There seemed something familiar about
the outfit but in the dimming light I couldn't make it out. In any
case I doubted that it was very warm. Still, at least she'd thought to
wear a sensible pair of shoes. The pack she carried was small, good
for perhaps a couple of days and the lack of a bedroll or obvious tent
confirmed that these were not ardent outdoors men. Off in the
distance her friend seemed to have prepared a little better. I got
the impression of a mop of dark hair over a yellow waterproof jacket,
below that she wore jeans and a pair of ankle boots.
I swear that I stopped purely for humanitarian reasons, I wouldn't
have left a dog out on a night like that. However, by the time they
reached me I admit I'd started to see the possibilities in the
situation. I watched in the mirror as the blonde drew level; I could
tell what she was thinking, youngish guy on his own in a large old
car. She hesitated, stopped and looked back towards her friend. I
knew this area quite well, Doc's place was a few miles away. This road
was quiet, I figured they'd probably been here a while. As her friend
came up I decided to up the pressure.
I wound the window down. "You girls are lucky I came along," I said
in a friendly voice, "Not much traffic comes this way after dark and
that storm will be here real soon."
The blonde looked up. It was overcast, showers were a certainty
though I think the word *storm* would be pushing things. While she
thought about it I looked her friend over. The large brown eyes and
curly dark brown hair betrayed her Latin ancestry, her skin however
had a pale almost porcelain quality. I guessed she was about the same
age as her friend though the serious expression on her face made her
appear more mature. The blonde looked at her friend obviously waiting
for her opinion. The dark girl glanced at me suspiciously. She
seemed the practical one of the pair something she confirmed a minute
later when she silently shook her head.
Time for more pressure, "Don't have all day ladies, hell you haven't
even said were you want to go."
"W...worcester," The blonde stammered.
"I'm going to Bolton," I said firmly as if I expected them to argue,
"But I could drop you by I-91. You can get a lift into Worcester
easily from there." I looked around, "Well it would be easier than
gettin' one around here."
The blonde looked beseechingly at her friend. I watched as the dark
haired girl did the calculation. Two of them, one of me. I got the
feeling that if she'd been on her own she'd have waited for something
less risky, but her friend was already cold and if they stayed here
much longer they would get wet.
She nodded, proving that perhaps she wasn't that smart after all. The
blonde sighed thankfully and headed towards the trunk.
"No good going there sweetheart," I said, " The trunk's full.
You'll have to put your stuff on the back seat."
She flushed a little when I called her "sweetheart" and she seemed to
hesitate a moment.
I smiled, "You can dump those packs on the seat behind me. One of
you ride up front, makes it easier to talk." They looked at each
other. I could tell that neither really wanted to talk, but if that
was the price of the lift.... The blonde glanced at her friend. The
brunette nodded again. The packs were thrown on the back seat as I
suggested and the blonde came forward to the passenger door. Part
one was complete; I had separated them. The blonde struggled out of
her jacket and dumped it on top of the packs, underneath she wore a
tight polo neck sweater in a dark brown color. Once I saw the
complete outfit I immediately recognized it as the uniform of an
exclusive Catholic boarding school. The sweater may have been the
regulation style and color but she'd obviously taken some trouble to
ensure it flattered her figure. I waited expecting the brunette to do
the same but the yellow coat stayed firmly in place. She waited until
the blonde had got in next to me then opened the back door
and slipped into the seat behind her friend. I could see she was
going to be difficult.
"Hi," I said offering my hand to the blonde. "Charlie Parker."
She didn't take the offered hand but instead looked me over.
"Beth," She said at length, "And that's Maria."
No comments, no jazz fans here I thought. I also noticed that she
didn't give any surnames. I glanced over at Maria who just nodded
politely, her body tight and weary. If what I was planning was going
to work I needed to get Maria off her guard a little. I noticed that
she'd positioned herself close to the door though she'd been sensible
enough to use the seat belt.
I smiled.
"Doesn't say much your friend." I said as we pulled away.
"We had a bad experience a couple of hours ago. A truck driver....
He said he'd give us a lift but..."
"Oh I see. I was going to ask how two nice young ladies from Saint
Mary's came to be so far from the beaten track."
They both stiffened, "Saint Mary's?"
Interesting reaction I thought; I decided to probe a little further.
"Yes I recognized the uniform. You *are* from there right?"
The tension seemed to mount even more, in the corner of my eye I saw
the glances back and forth. Something was going on between these two,
something that had led them to a back road miles from Boston.
Whatever it was they didn't want to be identified with it, had hoped
for some anonymity.
"You recognized the uniform...?" Beth began. I could tell that she
was about to deny it, claim I'd made a mistake. Saint Mary's was an
exclusive school, the kind of place that the daughters of congressmen
and diplomats attended. Such girls have been told all their lives
that they are better that the rest of us, taught to use their wits and
breeding against their enemies. I'd found that out from bitter
experience. I decided I needed to take the upper hand. Time to head
her off.
"My wife's an old girl." I said sweetly, "The uniform's been updated
a little since her day but the Tartan in the skirt is unmistakable."
"Tartan...." Beth began. The plad was distinctive, the family Tartan
of one of the schools founders. Few outside the Ivy League Set even
knew the school existed never mind be able to identify the Tartan on
sight. I could feel Beth looking me over. St. Mary's girls go on to
marry into the best families in the country, I didn't seem to fit the
part. Still it's hard to tell these days, I once stood next to Bruce
Willis in a store in San Fran and I was probably better dressed than
he was. I could be a rock star, a corporate robber baron slumming at
his New England retreat, any number of things. I felt the tension in
the car increase still more, was I *somebody*.
Time to let her off the hook.
"Check the yearbook for '82 when you get back. Her maiden name was
Jennifer O'Neil. Pretty redhead, don't think she got any special
distinctions. She was a day girl there for four years."
Beth relaxed a little, day girls were usually on scholarships, normal
middle class Boston girls that the school took in to maintain their
Christian piety. Beth didn't say anything but her body language spoke
volumes. She'd been afraid. Afraid that we'd meet at some Alumni
party, afraid that perhaps I moved in the same exclusive circles she
did. Afraid that their presence here might somehow make it back to
the school or daddy?? Seemed reasonable.
She cleared her throat. "Your wife was a day girl?" I caught that
tone in her voice, that upper-class whine. Five minutes ago she'd
been a little girl freezing her butt off by the side of the road, an
object of some pity even for me. Now after a few minutes in the warm
all her old instincts were reasserting themselves. My heart hardened
and the fate I'd decided on for these two was set.
"Yes that's right," I said, "She was on a scholarship. She says that
it's a great school, though she did take some ragging." I watched her
reaction, feeling the tension bubble burst. I was no one important,
there was little chance that I would mention their presence here to
anyone they needed to worry about. My suspicions confirmed I felt it
was time to change the subject.
"So this trucker gave you a bad time?"
Now her temperature was back up Beth's ego was back with a vengeance.
"He was an awful man, said that he'd take us to Worcester straight
away but once we were out of town he started to change. He pulled off
the Interstate and started making lewd suggestions. When we wouldn't
do what he wanted he threw us out."
I took this in for a second. The place I'd found them was quiet and
there were large numbers of wooded side roads big enough to take a
semi. Friend trucker probably thought he had a party on his hands and
tried to get some privacy. I had no doubt that these two had led him
on. Despite what you see on TV truckers are not usually random
maniacs. Most work for big companies and those companies run a virtual
cartel. No working Joe was likely to risk being blacklisted for two
little tarts like these. If he'd turned off it was because *someone*
had given him the idea that he would be rewarded. Still I kept my
thoughts to myself.
"So what kind of lewd suggestions did this guy make?"
Beth seemed uncomfortable, "Well you know?"
I shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't," I said, "The only young lady *I*
make lewd comments to these days is my wife. I take it from your
reactions that these were of a sexual nature?"
Beth nodded indignantly.
"And how old are you girls?"
"Sixteen," Beth said.
I sounded shocked. "I hope you took the guy's number," I said, "He
sounds a complete sleezeball."
"We did," Beth said proudly, " And when we get back we intend to send
his company a letter."
An anonymous letter I thought. After all they wouldn't want to have to
explain what they were doing hitchhiking to Worcester.
Doc's was now only twenty or thirty miles away. Soon my relationship
with these two charming ladies would have to get a little unpleasant.
I intended to put that off as long as possible, every mile closer to
Doc's was a bonus. To keep them distracted I started
chatting, asking about the school, dropping the names of a few of the
teachers that had been there when I'd lived nearby. As I'd expected
Maria said nothing, she just sat behind watching. Beth was a fountain
of information and though I got no closer to the underlying mystery of
what they were doing here or exactly who they were she dropped enough
clues for me to start piecing things together. Beth's father was a
lawyer, some medium ranking partner in a large Boston firm. Not
especially ambitious he seemed content to bide his time and wait for
his more senior colleagues to die. Maria's father was a banker of
some kind, working out of the country for Chase Manhattan. I felt the
disapproval from Maria as Beth let that slip but there was little she
could do. Beth had been raised in an world were what you did wasn't
so important as who you were and who you knew. Name dropping was like
second nature to her. Too young to have much influence herself she
relied on hints about her access to power to impress. I glanced at
her. She was a little silly cunt who was about to forefill a fantasy
I'd had for twenty years.
I started to move towards Doc's place. Having been in the Service I
tend to think that everyone has the same sense of direction that I do
and I confess that I'd expected some comment. However, they didn't
seem to notice, at least Beth kept talking and Maria kept silent as
before.
I was starting to think I could take them all the way to Doc's door
when Maria spoke. "We should have reached the Interstate by now!"
It was an accusation, a challenge of sorts. To some extent I liked
Beth, she was stupid, arrogant and vain but wasn't really that
unfriendly. Maria seemed to be a complete bitch, a real ball breaker,
it would be interesting to see what happened with her.
"Yep," I said but kept driving.
Beth turned towards me eyes wide with fear.
"Relax," I said, "I'm not like your trucker friend. I'm not about to
leave you two by an on ramp in the middle of nowhere. There's an
oasis a few miles further down the Interstate you can wait in the warm
there and you'll have a better chance of getting a lift on to
Worcester."
Beth, the stupid bitch, really wanted to believe, "An oasis?"
"A truck stop. Hell I couldn't go back to the wife and tell her that
I left two St. Mary's girls to fend for themselves on a night like
this."
Beth was satisfied but as expected Maria was more cautious, "If this
place exists why not use the Interstate to get to it?" she asked.
I shrugged. "That section's a toll road," I said. "I'm willing to
help you girls out but I don't see why I should pay for doing it!"
That shut Maria up for now but I could tell the honeymoon was over.
The next time I needed to adjust the lights I reached over and threw
an unmarked switch near the driver's door. From now on the clock was
ticking, it would only take them a few minutes to realize what I'd
done then all hell would break loose. Fortunately I knew of a perfect
place not so far from here. It was quiet and private and if I could
reach it my troubles would be over.
If........
If is a million dollar word, it sometimes means yes, sometimes no.
In this case it seemed to mean *yes* because despite deviating from
the route the girls didn't notice. In fact it was only when I pulled
off into the woods that they finally realized their danger and of
course by then it was far too late.
Surprisingly it was Beth who reacted first. "What the... What are
you doing?" she demanded.
I smiled, "End of the line......."
Beth struggled. Her hand flashed down to the release button of her
seat belt. I watched as she pressed the little red button.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, and again. I watched amused as she pounded it
harder but still it didn't release. About this time she tried to move
forward, but the seat belt reel was locked and she was pinned to
her seat. I glanced at Maria who was starting to come to the same
realization, that the seat belts were somehow locked and effectively
strapped them to their seats. That's when the screaming started.
Beth let rip, no surprise there I'd marked her as a mouthy bitch from
the start. The big surprise was how little fuss Maria made; she just
looked on with hollow eyes. I suppose it's the problem with being too
cerebral, you can't deal with sudden changes that well. Still it gave
me a little more time so I endeavored to use it. I reached under my
seat and found the small cloth bag I'd velcro'd there. I don't think
Beth even saw the handcuffs until it was too late. She was so busy
thrashing about and pulling on the belt. I had her first wrist locked
before she even knew she was in trouble. She struggled a little as I
passed the other bracelet through the lap belt and caught her free
hand but by then it was over. With her hands chained to her waist she
couldn't stop me from forcing the ball gag into her screaming mouth.
I tightened the strap and the car was suddenly quiet. She made a few
muffled sounds and I could hear Maria whispering a prayer but compared
to seconds before all was silent.
Beth started to weep. Facing me she tried to say something but all
that emerged from behind the gag was a muffled nonsense. I couldn't
tell what she said but her body language, hands clutched together,
eyes wide told me the story. Beth was begging for her life. I felt a
wave of satisfaction. Still she could wait for now. My first priority
was making Maria "comfortable".
The seat belts had been rigged by a friend of mine. Tiny solenoids
activated by the dashboard switch locked the buckle and reel
mechanisms on all the passenger belts leaving the driver free to move.
I'd only used it once before on more than one girl and that experience
had led me to ask for a number of refinements. Leaving the car I
walked around to Maria's door. Maria was still struggling, though
being an intelligent girl she probably only did it out of habit. If
she'd wanted to she could have reached over and ungagged Beth, but she
didn't probably because she knew it wouldn't do any good. Beth had
been very vocal for most of the last five minutes. No one had come.
The bag had one more gag and three pairs of cuffs left. I got some
cuffs ready then opened Maria's door. Pushing a button on my key fob
I was rewarded by a loud click as Maria's seat belt disengaged. For a
second she paused, then with remarkable speed she sprang from the car.
I grabbed but caught the coat. We struggled for a second then she
managed to slip out of it and ran for the trees. Throwing the coat
aside I started after her. I wasn't worried, her only chance was to
make for the road and hope she could find someone to flag down before
I got to her. She was heading the wrong way. She was good, probably
a track star at school, but here she was in my world. No amount of
sand track practice can prepare you for running on broken ground at
night.
She's almost made the trees when an exposed root brought her down. I
needed no further encouragement, I was on her in an instant and her
hands were cuffed behind her before she'd taken her first breath.
Only then, when all else was lost did she start to scream. Even
then it seemed a half hearted effort. Like her struggles in the car I
felt it was as much to be doing *something* as it was a serious
attempt to escape..
I forced the ball gag into her mouth and tightened the staps. Now she
finally admitted defeat and stopped struggling. We waited a few
minutes to get our breath back. Then I pulled her up and dragged her
back to the car. As we got closer I could hear Beth's muffled sobs.
Now they were both gagged I doubted any sounds could carry beyond the
first line of trees.
Beth looked up and I smiled at the look of despair that flickered
across her face. I think she really believed Maria would get
away. The two girls held a brief gagged "conversation" that became
rapidly boring. Smiling at Beth I dragged Maria towards the back of
the car.
I paused by the trunk and opened it. There was my bag and snow board
which I tossed aside for the moment. Maria struggled but I was no
longer in a mood to play so I slammed the heel of my foot hard against
the back of her leg hearing the muffled squeal and feeling her
collapse to the ground. Next to the spare wheel was a larger bag with
more supplies. Plucking it out I turned to find Maria trying to crawl
away. Grabbing her by the shoulders I carried her the few feet to her
discarded coat and dumped her on it. Then I opened my bag and went to
work.
I used a couple of straps to fasten her legs together temporarily at
knees and ankles. This was just to stop her struggling too much as
I applied the duct tape. I started at her ankles winding the tape
tightly around her legs until I reached the knees. These I left free
as I wanted to be able to bend her legs but I wrapped another band of
tape halfway up her thighs to pinion the top of her legs. Wrists and
forearms were similarly bound. Like Beth, Maria had been wearing a
polo necked sweater underneath her raincoat and while duct tape over
jeans made a viable bond I was a little worried about the wool
stretching. So recovering the straps from her legs I reused them
above and bellow her elbows to strengthen her bonds.
Maria had nice tits and now that her arms were pulled back they were
thrust out in a most appealing way. I paused a second to have a quick
grope and listened to her muffled protests. She was still a little
too loud for my taste. Rolling her over I removed the ball gag and
replaced it with an inflatable bladder. I used a small pump to
inflate this until her cheeks were distended and her eyes bulged.
Satisfied, I secured it in place first with layer after layer of duct
tape and finally with a tight Ace bandage. Another grope test found
Maria very effectively silenced. I finished up by using a couple of
straps to hog-tie her wrists to her ankles. She complained a little,
or at least tried to but Maria was a realist, despite her little show
of defiance she'd realized it was over the moment she'd been unable to
unfasten the seat belt. All she wanted now was to survive all this.
I admit she gave me some problems when she realized she was destined
for the trunk but hog-tied she was in no position to stop me. Once
I'd
got her nicely tucked away inside I threw her coat on top and closed
the lid. My bags and snow board joined their packs on the back seat
and I turned my attention back to Beth.
I'd left the Service just after Desert Storm following a
fraternization problem between myself and a female Navy officer. We
aren't talking Tailhook here, in fact she outranked me. To be
honest as we were on our own time and there were no husbands or wives
to get hurt I never saw it as anyone's business but our own. They say
that dress whites and Marine green don't mix but we did ok there for a
while. Still the Brass didn't see it that way and decided someone had
to pay. I was on my final tour intending to Re-up later that year so
I was the obvious candidate. She was young and ambitious I was old
and cynical so I cut a deal with the Brass. No charges, I just left
at the end of my final tour and saved her from the scuttlebutt.
When I got out I'd kicked around for a while but to be honest I'd been
in too long to be good at anything else. Mercenary work just didn't
interest me. Hell, I'd fought and some of my buddies had died to make
the New World Order and I didn't feel like helping to break it up
again.
I came across Doc in a gambling house, the old bastard was one hell of
a poker player, and we'd got to talking. Well, he'd been buying so I
did most of the talking. In the end he asked if I wanted to make some
good money for a simple delivery job. I'd thought he meant drugs and
had been a little reluctant to agree but I was low on funds by then.
In the end I just figured that anyone taking that stuff deserved what
they got so I'd agreed.
We went back to his hotel room were he introduced me to a beautiful
Asian girl called Mi Lin. I figured Mi was a hooker he'd hired for
the night so wasn't so surprised when he offered me her services. I
admit that those little oriental chicks always pushed my buttons and
this one was so willing. I'd been around the world many times and
used the local pro's in just about every country you can imagine but
none were as eager to please as Mi Lin. Some don't to oral, some
don't do anal. Mi never said no to anything and in addition she had
this cute habit of calling me *Master* all the time. She was
literally the best fuck I'd ever had.
The next day Doc turned up and I figured it was time to pay the piper.
I'd expected him to give me a briefcase or something. Instead he told
me to deliver Mi Lin to a cat house in New Mexico. It would take two
or three days and of course I could use her as I saw fit during that
time. I'd expected Mi to object but she seemed quite happy. It was
then that Doc told me what he did for a living.
Doc was a trainer of slaves. He could take any normal healthy woman
and turn her into an obedient sex machine in a little under six weeks.
It was hard to believe but Doc claimed Mi was living proof. I don't
know what Mi had been doing two months before but now she was content
to fuck and suck; all night if necessary. I'd taken her on the trip
to New Mexico half expecting her to jump ship at the first opportunity
but she seemed happy to be going along almost as if she looked forward
to life as a cheap whore.
At first I couldn't see how Doc's business worked. I'd been around a
bit and knew the score. Hundreds of runaways flood into New York
every year and there are pimps and pushers at every street corner just
waiting for them. Want a sex slave? Just pluck a girl off the
street, beat her a little, pump her full of smack until she's hooked
and put her to work. That first year all I did was deliver slaves and
Doc paid me a fortune to be a glorified taxi driver. I couldn't see
how he made his money. Who would pay for such a thing when junk and
intimidation was cheaper?
Then as I experienced more of Doc's girls I began to see. First they
were so willing, so responsive to a man's needs. While you're with
them you are literally the center of their world. They loved sex, in
fact they seem to physically *Need* it. When they look at your dick
the hunger in those eyes is real. When you fuck them, they really do
enjoy it, really do cum and cum. There is no deception, she isn't
faking or making out her shopping list while you fuck her. Doc's
girl's like you, like what you say and who you are, are happy just to
be with you. Any man no matter what he looks like feels like a
prince.
Then of course there's the sex. In terms of oral, they have mouths
more talented than those of twenty year Las Vegas strip girls, they
can hold a man at the edge of ecstasy for a lifetime. When they fuck
it's like nothing you've ever known, they know how to use their body
weight and internal muscles to best effect sometimes overloading you
with sensation. Best of all of course they'll do anything you say. I
began to see how a brothel owner could corner the market, reach the
point where he could force his competition out of business. Best of
all Doc's girls could continue to command top dollar for years after a
normal girl would be forced to retire. They may be initially more
expensive but Doc's slaves outlasted dozens of drugged up runaways.
After I'd been working for Doc for about a year he asked me if I
wanted to try recruiting, that is finding women and girls for Doc to
process. We usually picked runaways or prostitutes, women who could
go missing without being noticed. Occasionally though we got special
orders though Doc's contacts. Men who wanted their ex-wives, jilting
lovers or pushy bosses turning into fuck toys. Because of the risks
these jobs often paid better that providing a fresh slave. I pulled
twenty three kidnappings last year, none of which have ever been
reported. I've become the ultimate predator, like a big jungle cat I
know my territory and my prey, know what to risk and when.
And like a cat I sometimes play with my victims.
The moment I'd seen Beth in the full St. Mary's uniform some twenty
year old feelings of pain and anger had been rekindled. I knew that
somewhere God was laughing. The years disappeared in an instant and
I'd known immediately that I had to take them. It may seem unfair
that they should pay for someone else's mistake but it did have a
certain symmetry. Besides every St. Mary's girl I'd ever met was a
total bitch and these two were unlikely to be different.
I smiled at Beth who shuffled in her seat as much as the belt would
allow. I had something special in store for her and it started with a
gag. I reached into the bag and found what I wanted. It was a rubber
mouthpiece shaped at the front a little like a boxer's gumshield. One
of Doc's perverted friends was a dentist who we called in if a slave
needed dental work. Once in a drunken stupor I'd explained this idea
to him and the next time I'd visited Doc's a parcel had been waiting
for me......
Carefully I filled the gumshield with a special resin. She watched
silently probably trying to figure what I was doing. When I was ready
I took a strap from the bag and slipped it loosely around her neck.
She panicked. She started shaking her head blabbering and crying. It
took me a while to understand.
"Stop it! I have no intention of strangling you, that isn't what the
strap is for. Now cut it out or I'll hit you."
She stopped, eyes full of fear.
Quickly I unbuckled the ball gag and before she had time to respond
shoved the rubber mouthpiece between her teeth. As she shook her head
and tried to spit it out I forced one end of the strap under her jaw
and the other over her head. Then I tightened it clamping her teeth
down on the gumshield. She blubbered, but she couldn't get her
mouth open. Next came the cuffs. Up front was good,
behind was better. I released her seat belt then one wrist. She
tried to resist but her position was hopeless. I pulled a small loop
of fishing twine loose from the seat and threaded the cuffs through it
before refastening her wrist behind her. She tugged for a while but
there was no give. Her hands were fastened behind her to the seat. I
replaced the seat belt and pushed the magic button to lock it. She
tried to move forward but found that she was strapped to her chair
once more. Reaching into the bag I took out a leg clincher, a device
that straps around the thighs and clamps the legs together. She
struggled and as her legs weren't currently bound it proved quiet an
effort to get the clincher on and tightened. However once it was done
the effect was perfect. Beth's upper legs were completely
immobilized. Lower legs were more of a problem. I have some special
boots at home that are ideal for this but of course they are never
around when you need them. Instead I had an interesting device. This
was a length of a rubber material the outside of which was covered in
cotton cloth, the inside with Velcro. Reaching down I wrapped it
tightly around her lower legs just above her ankles. Pulling her legs
back I fastened an eye on the device to a small hook under the seat.
She moaned a little but now she couldn't move her legs at all.
Then I removed the chin strap, sitting back so I could see her
reaction. For a second her eyes bulged, then she gurgled. I smiled.
The resin had set, cementing her teeth to the gumshield and locking
her jaws closed. Still her gurgles were too loud. Forcing her lips
apart I located the small valve set in the front to the gumshield and
inserted the pump I'd used earlier with Maria. As the bladder in the
mouthpiece started to inflate Beth's cries became more and more
muffled. When I determined she was quiet enough I removed the pump
and did a grope test to confirm. Satisfied, I stuck a strip of flesh
colored tape over her mouth being very careful to work it around her
lips. The tape was thin and but for color differences it was hard to
tell were her skin stopped and the tape started. Despite her
struggles I managed to apply a layer of foundation makeup to her face
and the tape. After a few threats she held still enough for me to
apply the next layer. I finished by painting a pair of pouty lips on
the tape with lip gloss. Even sitting next to her I couldn't see the
join. The tape was invisible, the gloss lips looked like they were her
own. Even a few feet away it would be impossible to tell she was
gagged. The mouthpiece and tape together were almost a 100% effective
you could stand a few feet away and hear nothing. I pulled the plad
skirt down over the leg clincher then got out and walked to her door.
I glanced inside. Her cuffed hands were behind her back and out of
sight. The leg clincher was hidden by the skirt, the binder at her
ankles looked like knee socks and of course there was no sign of the
gag. A casual observer could see nothing strange. I smiled then got
back inside, as a final thought I pulled out a long dark wig and put
it on her head. I doubted anyone would remember her but it didn't
hurt to make her look a little different. Satisfied I started up and
headed for the road.
Reaching over I found Beth's breast though the sweater and started to
massage it. I became aware of a very faint muffled protest but the
engine covered it completely.
"Tell me Beth was this what the impudent trucker wanted?" Of course
she didn't answer. "Now come on Beth," I said, "You can nod and
shake. I'm sure you can answer simple questions. You're helpless,
you must realize that. The only hope you and your friend have is to
please me and it would please me if you answer. Understand?"
She nodded.
"Good girl," I said encouragingly. "Now I'll repeat the question.
Was this what the trucker wanted?"
She nodded and looked down.
"Bet he wanted a blow job too didn't he?"
She nodded again.
"Thought so. You see I doubt his schedule would leave him the time to
fuck even one of you so he'd have to take a couple of quickies. Funny
isn't it, if you hadn't been so high and mighty and had actually
sucked the poor bastard you'd be safe in Worcester by now."
She nodded and looked at the floor. A couple of hours ago she'd been
horrified at the prospect of giving some poor trucker a blow job. Now
I think she'd suck the whole Teamsters Union just to be safe in
Worcester.
"Tell me Beth do you want to suck me?"
She nodded frantically. It hadn't escaped her attention that I'd have
to remove the horrible gag for her to blow me.
"What about fucking me. Do you want to fuck me Beth?"
She hesitated, I smiled. She didn't want to go that far. "Well I'm
afraid you are going to fuck me Beth and suck me and do whatever else
I want do you want to know why?"
Getting no response I decided to tell her anyway.
"You see Beth back in '76 I was just a little older than you are now
and living just a few miles from your Alma Mater." She looked up.
"That's Latin for St. Mary's." I smiled. "Anyway I met this girl,
let's call her Jane. She looked a lot like you, about the same size,
same blonde hair, same uniform. I loved her. You know they say young
love burns the hottest. Are you in love Beth?"
She shook her head.
"Shame," I said, "Young love is a wonderful thing. You see my mother
died when I was very young so when I fell for this girl I fell real
hard. We had sex day and night almost continuously every opportunity
we got. Jane was one randy bitch, she was never satisfied. Cunt,
ass, mouth." I smiled evilly, "You'll see. I wanted to marry her but
when I suggested it she backed away and wouldn't even answer my calls.
She was real hard to get to while she was at school so I waited for
the Easter break. It must be close to twenty years ago today, I'm
sure you can see the symmetry Beth. I was just amazed. Anyway I went
to her families place in Boston to confront her. She laughed in my
face, told me that I was just a toy. A blue collar boy she could just
use and discard, worse her father was there and he offered me money to
get lost. Told me to take it and blow or he'd get his friend the
police commissioner to have me picked up. I left with them laughing
at me Beth, feeling helpless and alone. Just as helpless and alone as
you feel now."
Several cars had passed I'd watched her reaction, felt her despair at
knowing that the other drivers could see nothing wrong.
"I joined the Marines. Got involved in Recon, did my share of black
ops. When I left the service I met this guy. He trains slaves,
claims he can turn any woman into a sex toy in a few weeks. Once he
offered to make a slave for me, sort of a Christmas bonus. He said if
I chose the woman he would do the rest. So I went out to find Jane,
it wasn't difficult, her face was in the society columns almost
daily. Trouble was that she was married, had a couple of kids.
Kids need a mother Beth, growing up without one I realized that. I
could have taken her, could have used her as a plaything as she used
me but then her kids would have suffered. It didn't seem fair somehow
so I let her go. My friend's offer still stands though and all I need
is a girl. You are going to be that girl Beth. In a couple of weeks
you'll be sucking and fucking like a good little whore."
We passed through a small town and I watched as Beth tried desperately
to attract someone's attention with the little movement she had, she
got a few strange looks but no one realized what was going on. I
smiled. By the time we left town she was weeping. I felt her despair
and knew Doc would be pleased, the first stage of processing had
already begun.
About an half hour later and still a few miles from Doc's I pulled
over and went around to her side. Doc has a rule, one that we who
work for him rigidly obey, no slave will ever know the exact location
of Doc's house. Doc supplies girls all over the country and once
they've left him he can no longer be certain how secure they'd be
kept. It was possible that despite his training a girl could get away
and alert the authorities. Our clients always work through a chain of
intermediaries and don't know our location but the girls *have* to be
brought here for training.
I lowered Beth's seat letting it recline down as far as I could.
Reaching into the bag I took a small tube of cream and told her to
close her eyes. She jumped a little as I applied the cream to her
lashes, but she would see the reason soon enough. Very gently I
stuck an oval of surgical tape over each eyelid sealing them closed.
Satisfied she could see nothing I took a simple sleep mask like the
ones you get on long distance flights and fastened it over her eyes.
Closing the door I cast a critical eye at the scene but could see
nothing suspicious. How many times on a long trip does your passenger
try to sleep? It was dark and quite late and my passenger tired of
being woken by the light was using a sleep mask to try and get some
rest. Satisfied I checked on Maria.
The girl looked up the moment I opened the trunk. She tried to say
something but of course it was pointless. A quick check of her bonds
found she'd been unable to budge a single one. Maria would probably
only see a brief glimpse of the place between trunk and dungeon. Still
a rule is a rule. The quick application of a padded leather blindfold
ensured she would see nothing when we took her out.
Satisfied that my guests were comfortable I pressed on to Doc's.
Every mile brought me a little closer to Kitten and by the time I was
entering the lane I was very, very hard. It's said that even a
craftsman can make a mistake and Kitten was mine. I'd come across her
in a New York alleyway on a cold December day five years ago. I could
see that she was young, though the grime and the smell kept me from
realizing just how young. She was just sitting in a corner starving,
contemplating whether to sell her blood or her virtue first. Then I
came along and made that decision for her. She was the easiest
capture I ever made though I feel she'd probably have willing signed
up for slavery if it meant 3 squares and a warm bed. She traveled to
Doc's in my trunk very securely bound and gagged but it proved
unnecessary as she gave me no trouble. It was only later while we
were cleaning her up that we realized the truth. Kitten was only
thirteen years old.
Now neither Doc nor myself are pedophiles and we don't deal with
anyone that is. That meant that we had a slave who was a good three
years ahead of her sell by date. We discussed it, even contemplated
throwing her back but it was far too risky. Besides as we watched her
wolf down that first meal we realized what a hard time she'd had.
It took little encouragement for her to tell us her story. Her mother
had been a Pro in Pittsburgh, she hadn't known her father. She'd been
taken into care at age nine when her mom had been put away for the
third time. Somehow her mother had got an early parole but had died
of a drug overdose before she could reclaim her daughter. Kitten had
been in and out of foster care since then finally ending up in a
children's home. She didn't want to say much more but Doc's
examination had revealed the truth. At thirteen Kitten was no longer
a virgin and hadn't been for some time.
In the end the solution to the Kitten problem was obvious. Doc lived
alone except for various "guests" and to be honest he wasn't as young
as he was. So Kitten became his house slave, cooking, cleaning
and looking after the old man's needs. He now claims that he called
her Kitten because of the way she likes having her hair stroked but I
can remember what he really said that first time. After all Kitten
is as good a name as any for a little pussy :-)
At fifteen Kitten's sexual side started to assert itself and with some
reluctance Doc started teaching her the various tricks he taught his
sex slaves. She proved to have quite an appetite and on her sixteenth
birthday, when she was beyond Doc's taboos, she had taken him to bed
and virtually raped him. I used to have trouble explaining to others
just who she was. She was Doc's slave, lover, housekeeper,
nursemaid, assistant, companion........ granddaughter??? In a
strange way maybe so. In the end Doc gave me the definitive answer.
"Sorcerers apprentice!" he said with a smile and from then on it was
settled.
I bumped down the drive the final few yards to Doc's door. I kept
asking him to get it surfaced but he just smiled. The noise, he said,
was an extra warning of visitor in case his numerous electronic
systems broke down. As I neared the door I heard his voice from
inside.
"Charles, old boy, before you come in go to the beer cooler and bring
me a couple of cans. Take what you want while you're there."
An old wood and wire cooler sat on the porch, it had no refrigeration
other than the cold New England air, but that seemed to be enough. I
knew what I'd find inside, cans of British beer sent to Doc by one of
his European customers. Grabbing a couple more for myself I went
inside.
"You should put these in the refrigerator"
"Dear me Charles, whatever for?"
"Sorry I forgot. You drink English beer warm."
Doc smiled, and combat began. "Not at all dear boy. Warm British
beer is I'm afraid an American exaggeration. Beer should be kept at
the *right* temperature. In my youth it used to be hand pumped from
vats in the pub cellar. Britain is a cold country, dear boy, I assure
you it arrives anything but warm. The problem you have here is that
you overcool your beer. It's a man's drink not some fizzy beverage,
it should be treated with respect."
"Still as grouchy as ever I see."
"One of the benefits of age I'm afraid. In another fifty years you'll
see it's attractions."
I poured the beer into the glass he offered and sat back. "Well you
wanted me and I'm here. So what's so damned important?"
"Ah yes. I'm sorry to drag you from your holidays but something of an
emergency has come up. I'm doing a special job for one of our New
York clients, two girls to be prepared in advance of some office
outing. Very good money obviously but due to some mix-up the date's
been brought forward."
I sipped the beer, "Are they ready?"
"Oh yes, have been for a few weeks I've been holding them here until
the client was ready. It's sort of a strange deal, he wants them to
do something at this party of his, then he want's us to dispose of
them."
"Dispose?"
"Juan will take them no problem. Teressa has also expressed an
interest though I don't know yet if she wants both. As you'll see
they're more valuable as a set but there are problems with Mexico at
the moment. Still with the training paid for we could almost afford
to give them away....."
"Seems straight forward," I said, "Can't see that there is too much of
a problem."
Doc shuffled uneasily. "Truth is that there are some problems."
"Oh?"
"You are familiar with my techniques Charles. You know that some have
taken fifty years to develop. I admit to having some failures in the
past but for perhaps the past thirty years I've been sure enough of my
findings to be able to draw up certain axioms."
I nodded, when he first told me what he did I'd not really believed
him. In the Marines I'd been through special training, tortured by
professionals to find my breaking point and give me the tools to
resist torture by the other side. With constant physical and mental
abuse almost anyone will break, the trainers job was to gauge that
point before the subject was irreversibly damaged.
Compared to Doc those guys were in the Stone Age. I've picked up a
runaway and two months later seen the same girl turned into a
accomplished whore. Doc's girls aren't just obedient, they are so
compliant, so willing. Doc claims his technique makes the slave
actively need sex, they have an enormous appetite and seem to
genuinely enjoy every moment. Pleasure, he says, is much more
effective persuader than pain. Hurt someone and all they'll do is try
and avoid what caused the pain. Pleasure someone and they will
actively seek out more.
Doc scratched his nose, "The problem is this. Our client wanted one
of the girls to maintain most of her original personality. That is,
he wanted her aware of what she was doing and able to respond in a
characteristic way to her environment. Now as you know this implies
that rather than break the girl we should condition her with various
desired responses. This means that she would appear as normal but
when given a trigger event or an order from the master she's been
conditioned to obey she would perform the desired task."
I nodded. After six years I understood *that* much.
"All my research shows such a thing requires between three and six
months depending on subject. I've *never* produced such a girl in
less time, not with total success anyway. The problem is that our
client's time scale has left a little under six weeks for training.
That was barely enough time to break her friend. I've made a start, I
feel that she'll do the job he requires but our control of her is very
unstable. I'm afraid for the most part you must consider both of them
hostile and transport them accordingly."
New recruits were "hostile," that meant that if they weren't tied down
they would try to run away. Usually transporting one of Doc's girls
after processing was easy. No escape attempts, no bonds, you just
drove them somewhere like they were regular people. In fact the only
downside was that if you didn't fuck them every night they had a
tendency to be moody in the morning. Tough job but someone has to do
it.
"What about this "party" if she gives us problems there We could have
witnesses?"
Doc smiled, "I've thought of that. I'll give you a drug, it's a will
suppressant, inject her with it about twenty minutes before you arrive
and she won't give you much trouble for the next few hours. Let the
girls do their thing, then pack them up, ship them back and let me
worry what to do with them."
The plan seemed reasonable, though the risks involved in transporting
an unstable slave must be worth double. Then I remembered. "Doc, you
remember you offered to process a slave for me?"
"Yes?"
"Well I've found one. I recruited a couple of hitchers tonight and
one of them is perfect."
"Recruited? Not around here I trust?"
I smiled, "Twenty, thirty miles."
I heard Doc breath in, "Charles, how many times do I have to tell you.
We do not recruit around here. For God sake not even a dog pees in
his own basket."
"I didn't intend to take them! When you see her you'll understand."
"Very well. I suppose if they're here it's a little too late. We'll
need Kitten. You'd better get her."
"Where is she?"
"In her basket."
"Basket?" I was surprised, " Is she being punished?"
"No, our little Kitten has a few more kinks than even we knew. Go get
her and you'll see."
Doc keeps his slaves in hidden underground cells and dungeons.
In fact nothing to do with his illicite career exists above the
surface. This means that if we got unlucky and the place was raided
it was unlikely to yield any clues. However Kitten had been a
problem. A house slave has to wash and clean and look after her
master which is fine except a sudden raid was likely to find her above
ground. With this in mind we had built Kitten's "Basket" a small
hidden cell concealed within part of the fireplace. At night she had
slept underground with the others, but during the day when she wasn't
needed or if the security system warned of a sudden visitor she would
be locked up in the basket until Doc was ready to let her out. Doc
had been a cautious man, despite Kitten's good will he had still kept
her bound and gagged for much of the first three months. It hadn't
been uncommon to see the girl naked but for her bonds struggling to
clean the floor with her hands tied. Doc had kept her naked not for
any sexual reason but because the lack of clothes and the cold
weather outside discouraged escape.
Gently I pushed the hidden latches and swung the basket's door open.
Kitten was inside dressed in a leather basque and bikini brief set.
Stockings and high heel pumps were a must of course as that was one of
Doc's favorite fetishes as were the long leather opera gloves. The
room, which had been large enough to take a bound thirteen year old
was now barely big enough for Kitten to lie down it. She was gagged
with a large leather pad gag of Doc's patented design, her ankles
fastened to a spreader. I couldn't see her hands but figured they
were bound behind her. A length of white cotton rope had been used as
a crotch strap wrapped once around her waist then passing between her
legs pushing the leather panties deep into her damp twat. I noticed
the small movement of the knots she'd tied as they teased her clit
through the panties, the other end of the strap was probably tied to
her wrist in some way. The whole thing looked frustrating, I doubted
that she could ever get off on her own.
"She did it herself a few hours back," Doc said, "I think it's her way
to get you to fuck her. I'll go out and see to that girl of yours.
You'll find the keys on the small table, a condom too. Please use it
Charles old man, not that I don't trust you but remember you are
peeing in the well I drink from."
Kitten's eyes twinkled, she'd been leading me on for months, cock
teasing me until I could think of nothing else. Doc ran an open house
policy. The few of us in direct contact with him had almost unlimited
access to the slave pens. The only exceptions tended to be if a
client specified that they wanted exclusive use or if sex would
somehow interfere with training. Other than that any girl in the
place
was fair game.
Except for Kitten. As part of her strange status Kitten only fucked
the men Kitten wanted to fuck. Oh I have no doubt that Doc could
order her to do it, after all she was still a slave, but I doubted he
ever would. So Kitten had played with me for the last few months and
this was the payoff. I couldn't see the bondage angle though. Doc
keeps all his girls bound and gagged as a security measure, and all of
his slaves have been fucked in bondage at least once. Kitten was the
exception though so I could only figure that this kink was entirely of
her own choosing.
By now I'd got my pants off and was trying with trembling hand to roll
on the condom. Kitten just watched amused, tugging occasionally on
the crotch strap to keep things cooking. At last I was ready. I used
a knife to cut the cord above her snatch and slowly pulled the strings
to release the bikini briefs. Kitten moaned as I removed the panties;
Doc's gags are very effective and I doubted she would get much louder.
She trembled with anticipation and the overpowering smell of her sex
hit me making my rubber coated cock swell even more. I felt I would
have to start soon or pass out so I put my cock on the entrance of her
womb and pushed. She gave a muffled squeal. Even though she was well
lubricated she was impossibly tight. I paused, concerned that I may
have hurt her. I heard the spreader drag for a second as she adjusted
her position. Then she thrust up engulfing me in a tight warmness.
Her muffled scream sounding surprisingly loud in the tight confines of
the basket. She thrust again and I finally got the point. I started
fucking her in earnest feeling her muscles at they grasped my cock and
pulled me deeper inside. The tightness was incredible it was almost
as if we were joined at the waist. I felt her orgasm building deep
inside her body feeling it wash over my buried cock like a tidal wave.
She came and her hot cunt sucked deeply on my cock, pumping, draining
me dry as I seemed to cum for hour after hour.
I fell back feeling relieved I still had some body fluids left and
wondering for some strange reason if Mi Lin knew what had happened, as
if a woman can somehow know when she's suddenly no longer "the best."
I managed to stagger to my feet and get the keys, one for the
spreader, one for the cuffs and one for the gag. I freed her slowly
allowing myself the opportunity to tease her bound body before finally
letting her go. I left the gag 'til last so that I could remove it
when she was standing. I pulled the mouthpiece free.
She licked her lips. "Hi Master Charlie," She said, voice hoarse and
sexy.
"Hi Kitten."
I didn't know what else to say. It was pointless asking if it was
good for her, the volume of her cries despite Doc's special gag had
proved that. It was pointless to say that I loved her because she
belonged to someone else, literally. In the end Doc interrupted the
moment.
The door opened and in staggered Maria. she "looked" around the room
with her blindfolded face. Her gag and the bonds around her upper
body were still as before and swatches of cut duct tape still adhered
to her jeans. She was joined a second later by Beth. Doc had removed
the leg bindings and the sleep mask for some reason. She stood there
looking oddly normal save for her taped eyes.
Kitten recovered the bikini briefs and I put on my pants.
Doc appeared behind the two girls and pushed Maria forward. The
helpless girl staggered and almost fell making a little mewing sound
behind her gag.
"Ah Kitten, all finished are we? Good girl. Now take this one down
and start processing her straight away. I want a full workup,
virginal swabs, urine test and a blood sample for the HIV test."
Kitten sighed, from bondage babe to private nurse in a few minutes.
She flashed me a smile then grabbing Maria's arm she started to pull
her towards the hidden dungeon door.
Doc pointed at Beth's concealed gag. "Not still doing this are you.
It's going to get you caught one of these days."
"I think it's pretty good myself. Squeeze a nipple if you don't
believe me."
Doc shook his head, "I have no doubt that the gag is effective and I
agree that it isn't easily noticeable but the fact remains that while
a slave is in public view she has too many opportunities to draw
attention to herself."
"First up, I only use it at night and even then only for short trips.
Second the alternative was to put her on the back seat. I accept that
there is less chance of her being seen but if someone does see a girl
bound and gagged in the back of your car they *will* notice."
"And if you're stopped?" He persisted.
"If she's tied up in the back it's all over anyway! This way I just
show her the gun and make it clear that if she draws attention to
herself the cop dies. In poor light you can't easily notice it even
close up."
Doc shook his head, I don't think he'll ever be convinced.
"This is the one you want processed?" he said.
I nodded.
"How much?"
"Full treatment, the works."
"Expensive!"
"So your offer was only good for a six week fuck toy?" I asked
innocently.
He scowled, "Full treatment it is then." He reached over and pulled
off the wig letting Beth's natural blonde hair cascade down.
"Isn't.......?" he began. I put a finger to his lips silencing him.
Beth "looked" around disorientated and scared.
"We had better get Kitten up here to process this one," Doc said.
I shook my head. "I want to save the uniform," I said, "That
means we need to actually strip her rather than just cutting the
clothes off. Kitten can't manage that on her own."
Doc smiled, "Never underestimate Kitten, Charles. She's far more
talented than you can imagine."
We took Beth down to a dungeon room and stripped her ourselves.
She struggled of course but still blindfolded and gagged she was too
disorientated to put up a spirited resistance. I showed Doc the
special solvent solution that allowed the hidden gag to be removed and
even he had to admit it was ingenious. When we were finished Beth
hung from the ceiling, arms and legs separated by spreaders,
blindfolded with a conventional leather blindfold and chewing happily
on one of Doc's gags.
Satisfied that she was ready for Kitten we headed off in search of
Maria.
Doc smiled, "Charles old man I must confess I never realized you were
so ruthless. You can't take the mother so you take the daughter? I
am right? Beth is Jane's daughter?"
I nodded, "You can imagine my reaction, and tonight of all nights. I
didn't realize until she took her jacket off and I saw her in the full
uniform. I mean it's been four years since I last checked up on Jane,
Beth was just a little kid then. You must see why I took her, it
seemed like fate. I can't imagine what Jane Walters daughter would be
doing hitching to Worcester. It was so bizarre, so perfect....."
Kitten appeared in the corridor. "I think I can answer some of your
questions, if you're interested?"
We walked into another dungeon area to find Maria hanging naked
From the roof. She was bound identically to her friend with
blindfold, gag and spreaders. Over the years Doc had developed a set
of standard practices. Binding the girls like this allowed for a full
medical exam with minimal fuss. Kitten gave Doc a clipboard and
pointed to some results. "HIV and micro bacteriology will have to
wait of course, but this bitch is definitely pregnant."
I watched Maria stiffen.
Doc checked the clipboard, "You checked?"
Kitten shrugged, "Twice, she's either pregnant or has some form of
ovarian cyst. Given her age the later seems unlikely."
I looked at Kitten amazed.
Doc noticed the look, "Come now Charles you shouldn't be that
surprised. Surely you didn't think I'd developed the technology just
to have an endless supply of willing pussy?"
In fact I *had* thought that but I kept silent for now.
"The same techniques I use to make a sex slave in two months can make
a pretty good doctor in a couple of years."
"Pretty good?" Kitten said, "You know my grade point average."
"Yes my dear but it doesn't count unless you actually graduate medical
school."
Kitten pouted and stormed back towards Maria.
I watched her go amazed.
Doc bent over and whispered conspiratorially, "Told you not to
underestimate her....."
Kitten removed Maria's gag. "Ok you bitch who got you up the spout."
Maria seemed confused.
"Up the spout?" I whispered to Doc.
"Pregnant. I'm afraid too many years living with an Englishman has
played havoc with Kitten's idioms."
"Let me go you bitch!" Maria screamed. I saw Kitten stiffen.
Kitten tutted, "Wrong answer and wrong name. You are the *bitch*. You
will call me *mistress* or by God I'll make you suffer!"
I felt my blood run cold.
"May I suggest that we adjourn off to the snug for a whisky?" Doc
suggested. "I get the feeling things are about to get a little
unpleasant. I let Kitten do most of the discipline these days because
quite frankly she has a certain talent for it."
"Please stay," Kitten said, "This really won't take a second."
She turned and grabbed Maria's nipple twisting viscously.
Bringing her head close she hissed in Maria ear in a voice so cold and
viscous I found myself with the chills again. "Hungry bitch? Arms
getting a little tired? I'm the one who decides when you come down.
*I* say when or if you eat. So tell me slave what do you say?"
She gave another twist and Maria's will dissolved.
"S...sorry."
I smiled. It wasn't easy for a St. Mary's girl to apologize, that
isn't the way they are brought up, but Maria was a realist and
survival meant not messing with Kitten.
"Sorry what?" Kitten asked.
"Sorry Mistress."
"Good girl!" Kitten said. She turned and smiled. "See that didn't
take long did it." Turning back to Maria she gently massaged the
injured nipple "So tell us about how you got yourself pregnant."
Even with half her face covered by a blindfold Maria looked sheepish.
"Carl.... a .. a boy who works on the grounds. We took precautions I
bought him condoms and hid them. There must have been a defect." She
slumped down miserable.
Then I suddenly realized, "You were going to Worcester for an abortion
weren't you??"
She nodded and sniffed, "One of the girls knew of a guy. We couldn't
use a legal clinic, they have to take your name... I'd have to have
my parent's approval.... They'd have to know. We thought using one
outside of town was better but we didn't have transport."
"And Beth," I asked.
"The girls said someone would have to come with me, in case there
were problems. They drew straws......"
And suddenly a thousand to one shot became ten thousand to
one.........
I cleared my throat, "This guy you were going to see, what was his
address?" A plan had started to form in my mind, a way to shift
suspicion away from here and back towards Worcester.
"In my jeans pocket....."
Kitten had cut the jeans off with a knife but fortunately the pockets
were intact. Kitten reached down and picked up the remains working
her was through the pockets methodically. Finally she found a piece
of paper which she handed to Doc who read it and winced.
"My dear young lady I know that things may seem quite desperate for
you now but I can assure you that you've had a fortunate escape. This
man is a scoundrel, a quack and a butcher! I shudder to think what
would have befallen you at his hands."
Maria "looked" up. "Really?" She asked weakly.
"Really," Doc said firmly, "Kitten, help our young mother down and
find her a nice private cell away from the others. Minimal bonds, no
gag and double rations. She is eating for two after all."
"Two?" Maria whispered.
"Yes my dear I think we will let you come to term on this one. Do not
fear both myself and Mistress Kitten are well qualified, you will
get the best in private care."
"B...but I don't want the baby."
Doc smiled, "No but we do. Now hurry along Kitten dear and do make
sure that our mother to be is nice and warm."
I watched as Kitten dragged the still reluctant Maria away. "*You*
want the baby?" I asked.
"Oh yes," Doc said, "Good healthy white baby can easily pull in twenty
thousand if you can find the right adoptive parents. That's a tidy
profit on nine months room and board. Further it will establish Maria
as having a good reproductive track record. There are societies
were that is a highly valued property in a slave."
"You're a bastard you know."
Doc smiled, "And your point is? Anyway, while we're here I may as
well introduce you to your cargo."
We wondered through the pens. Doc's place was built to handle twenty
girls or more, but that had been in the sixties when there had been an
almost infinite number of Flower Children to choose from and HIV was a
far off nightmare. These days he keeps perhaps ten at a time, a
number he and Kitten can handle easily between them. The corridors
are always quiet, Doc keeps his girls bound and gagged at all times to
"discourage mischief". I must admit it works. It's hard for the
girls to plan a mutiny when they can't talk to one another.
We stopped at a cell occupied by two girls. Unlike the occupants of
some of the other cells these two wore clothes. The older woman
was in her mid thirties with long brown hair and dark brown eyes. She
was dressed in a fairly expensive female business suit complete with
stockings and sensible pumps. She mumbled something into her gag and
tried to move forward. The steel collar around her neck stopped her
getting any further. Doc pointed to her. "That's the one we were
talking about," he said, "Her name's Myra." "This one," He said
pointing to the younger blonde girl, "Used to be called Joanne but
these days we call her JoJo."
JoJo was dressed in the most incredible outfit I'd ever seem. A latex
lace up basque, latex thigh high five inch heeled boots and shiny
latex gloves.
"This is their outfit for the party, we kept them in it after today's
practice so that they can give you a demonstration." He handed me a
key and nodded towards Myra then started to unfasten JoJo.
"Right ladies go to work."
Myra sat as if she was at a desk. A pair of glasses had appeared from
somewhere and she sat pantomiming reading papers. Pausing she pressed
a button on an invisible intercom.
"JoJo come in here please."
JoJo flounced over. There was something in the way she moved, in the
vacant look in her eyes that told me she was a six week special. Doc
had broken her, destroying completely the woman she used to be and
programming the husk as a simple sex toy. I could see how Myra could
be a problem, there was still a flicker of self awareness behind those
brown eyes but for JoJo it was all over. All she could wish for now
was a kind master and an easy life. It was unlikely she'd have
either.
"JoJo! Fine personal assistant you are I was looking through these
accounts and I've found a problem."
"Really miss what's wrong?" Even her voice lacked any personality.
"There's still money in them you little bitch! Why do I employ you!"
JoJo squirmed pushing her latex covered cleavage in the older woman's
face. "I dunno. Because I lick slit good?"
Myra stood up threw off her jacket and the glasses and then Doc
pressed a button and the music started. I'd seen lesbian displays
before, most erotic dance shows have at least one if they can get away
with it. Most are quiet boring as you soon get the feeling that the
girls are just play acting. This was different, it had an energy and
rhythm about it that was unmatched in my experience. Each woman
latched on to the other, licking, fingering, teasing in time to the
music. Methodically they stripped each other, though in fact Myra
ended up taking the most off. Underneath blouse and skirt was a latex
top and a pair of matching bikini briefs. This left both women dressed
almost identically at which point the lesbian foreplay became
more spirited. There was a strange urgency to it all as each woman
tried desperately to bring the other off. I looked at JoJo, the
vacant look had been replaced by a desperate unearthly hunger. I saw
it's reflection in Myra's eyes but I also saw something more, a
horror, self loathing and disgust. It hovered just below the surface
suppressed by Doc's conditioning but it was there. Somewhere the real
Myra was aware of what she was doing, aware but unable to stop. Then
suddenly JoJo came, and moments later Myra followed her with a
screaming mind stunning orgasm that left her twitching on the floor.
I helped her up. The vacant look had crept into her eyes as if the
orgasm had somehow crushed the last vestige of her personality. She
didn't struggle as I rebound her and shoved the gag back into her limp
mouth.
We went back upstairs in silence.
"What was that Doc? What have we got ourselves into?"
"That was one hundred percent what the client ordered," Doc said
defensively. "He even scripted it and chose the music. You see there
is a gimmick. I've made it so that each woman has an orgasm that is
perhaps a tenth of it's usual potency. Except, if she cums just
after another woman then it's more like ten *times* the usual
potency."
"So each tries to make the other cum first!"
"Right! If you cum first you get a little tremble. Cum second and
the world explodes."
"So Myra won just now."
Doc smiled, "She usually does, one of the advantages of not having
been broken yet. The whole setup was the client's idea he just asked
if it was possible."
"But why?"
Doc handed me a whisky, "Myra worked for a major Manhattan bank in
their foreign trading desk. Quite senior, a VP I believe. Joanne was
her PA. Our client was another VP who's department used the Foreign
Desk a lot. He started to notice some irregularities which at first
he put down to some over ambitious trading. Gradually though he
started to find evidence of a widespread securities fraud being run
from somewhere inside Myra's department. As was common procedure at
the bank he approached the board in Myra's absence and was ordered to
investigate fully. One weekend he and some of his people entered
Myra's departmental records and started to do an audit."
I could see where this was going, "And the culprit turned out to be
Myra.."
"Exactly! She had embezzled several million dollars in the past three
years and he was able to prove it. He called her in and asked for an
explanation and she just laughed in his face. Told him not to be a
stupid little boy, that they couldn't go to law because after Barrings
and that Tokyo scandal any publicity would bring down the bank. She
even threatened to go public herself if he pushed it. She handed him
her resignation and just left laughing at him as she went and taking
Joanne with her."
"So he hired you to get revenge."
"In a way," Doc said, "You were in London that week so Martin and Ray
picked up our two young friends. The bank has managed to bury the
loss through some careful accounting. The office has a tradition of
going out to a cabaret evening once a year. This year our man will
provide the entertainment."
"How's he going to explain it?" I asked puzzled.
"He'll claim that Myra agreed to do it in exchange for not being sued
for breach of contract."
"Seems a little thin," I said, "If I'd stolen a few million I'm sure
I could find a better way out"
Doc shrugged. "Ultimately it doesn't really mater," Doc said, "He'll
get his few minutes of revenge and the public humiliation of Myra and
he'll be happy. Let him explain it."
I wasn't satisfied but I let is ride.
"Anyway the party is tomorrow night in a club in Manhattan." Doc said,
"You will take them to the show and bring them back here afterwards."
I confess I didn't like it and I told him so but I think he felt I was
overplaying things as a bargaining ploy. In the end we agreed on a
price.
Doc paused. "By the way Charles, in nine months it will be Christmas
I believe."
"About then." I agreed.
"Lets have a party of our own then! Maria will be having her baby and
in nine months I can turn your Beth into the most perfect slave you'll
ever see!"
"Sounds good," I said standing, "But right now I need to get some
sleep if I'm driving tomorrow."
I headed down to the dungeon to say goodnight to Kitten. That look in
Myra's eye still bothered me. I had a friend who worked one summer in
a slaughter house. He had no problems "processing" hundreds of cows a
week, hell he even joked about it. Then one day he just upped and
left. When I asked him why he told me about an accident they'd
had, of a cow that had somehow survived the killer and how he'd
watched it die in agony fully aware of what was going on.
Usually I didn't think about those we processed, it was quick and
simple and there seemed to be little pain. Myra was different. We were
slowly destroying her and like that poor cow she was aware of what we
were doing to her. I shuddered.
Kitten was in the dungeon with Beth. The girl's position had hardly
changed since I left her though her shaved cunt showed that Kitten had
been busy. Slaves have no sexual contact until the results of the
health checks came back, but of course this didn't include mechanical
items. When I arrived Kitten was just about to fit Beth with a large
vibrator. Not wanting to interfere I waited until Kitten had finished.
Kitten looked up, "Slave, your *master* is here to see you." She
reached down and switched the device on. Beth moaned behind her gag.
"He gives you this gift of pleasure in recognition of your obedience,"
Kitten intoned, "And the gift of pain if you disobey." Beth's hips
quaked as she tried to get a better position and her moans increased
in
volume.
Kitten walked over. "Come to see how she's coming along," She asked
lightly.
"Actually I came to see you."
"Doc told you then?"
"Told me what?"
"That I'm to supervise the processing of your slave?"
"You?"
"Yes *me* You haven't been here much master, I do most of the training
these days."
So Doc hadn't been kidding when he'd called her his apprentice......
"It's about that girl Myra. Do you know who the client is?"
She shook her head. "Doc works on a need to know basis and I didn't
*need* to know. Even if I did I couldn't tell you.
Compartmentalization is essential if our security is to be
maintained."
"The intermediary, you must know *him*."
"Master please, you know I can't say so why ask?"
"Kitten!"
She rolled her eyes, "Ok, but if I end up scrubbing kitchen floors
naked again
*you* will be responsible." She sighed, "It's Sam Turner."
I kissed her and we made love then and there. Above us and in a world
of her own Beth swung backwards and forwards, moaning
into her gag and thrusting her hips as she chased that illusive
orgasm.
....................................................................................................
From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:11 1997
From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap2 "New Beginnings and Loose Ends" (M/ffff B&D, NC, Adventure)
Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:11 GMT
Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net
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************************************************************
STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it
is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the
author.
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Quin 1997
tmquin@ibm.net
************************************************************
Doc's Orders by Quin
======================
Chapter 2 "New Beginnings and Loose Ends"
=====================================
Next morning I woke refreshed. I'd gone to bed with the germ of an
idea that had slowly blossomed into a fully fledged plan. I'd been up
at six thirty and in search of Kitten. I had no doubt that she would
be up. Slaving is like any other form of animal husbandry, up at
dawn, down at dusk.
She was in the kitchen having breakfast. The leather outfit of last
night replaced by a cute latex French maid's outfit which was probably
for my benefit. It seemed the teasing was on again. She was reading
a book but when she saw I was up she quickly put it down and headed
for the stove.
"Sunny side up! Right Master?"
I nodded, the Marines had got me used to the idea of getting up early
but at some primal level my body still didn't like it. She passed me
a large mug of coffee and started assembling breakfast. I looked at
the book "The BIG book of girls names." It had a cute picture of a
woman playing with a baby on the cover.
"Getting a little ahead of yourself aren't we," I asked, "She may have
a boy."
"I'm sorry Master?"
"I was saying, your just a little ahead of yourself with Maria's
baby," I said holding up the book.
"Oh, that's not for the baby, " She said putting a large plate of
pancakes on the table, "That's for me."
"You?"
"Yes, I'm choosing my new name. At the moment I can't decide between
Caitlin and Kathryn. I think Caitlin sounds better but it has all
those beach bunny, 90210 connotations. Kathryn's more stuffy but hey,
she's s Starfleet Captain."
"I'm sorry?" I said and I was, genuinely sorry that I'd even started
this conversation.
"Doc asked me if I wanted a new name."
"Why?" I said confused.
She arched her back and sucked her stomach in. Her breasts were
forced out, straining against the imprisoning latex. Suddenly I was
hard again.
"If you haven't noticed Master," She purred, "I'm hardly a kitten
anymore."
Now that she mentioned it I realized she was right. I mean I know she
had grown up, I'd fucked her for God sake, but in my mind there were
two Kitten's, the sex vixen and the thirteen year old girl in that
freezing alley. Finding that they were the same person after all
would take some adjustment. Perhaps a new name wasn't such a bad
idea.
"What was the second one I asked?"
"Kathryn? It's with a *y*. Do you like it?"
"Sorry? Err no, not especially," I said, "Just didn't hear it right.
What are the others."
She ran through a whole list and it didn't take me long to see the
pattern.
"Do all these names shorten to Kat?"
"I thought I'd stick with the feline motif, " She said.
"Then why not just stick with Kat?"
She wrinkled her nose, "It's a little common don't you think? Bit too
much trailer trash?"
I gave up. "Doc tells me you handle discipline these days?"
"Ah, ah."
"How good are you at torture?"
"For pleasure or punishment?" She asked handing me a bottle of maple
syrup.
"There's a difference?" I asked.
"There is if you do it properly Master," She said suggestively.
"I need to get some information from Beth. I figure she's either
going to hold out on us or may tell us the wrong thing completely."
"Like what?"
"Bank card number." I said as I took my first bite of pancake. Doc
was an excellent cook with exceptionally high standards. It came as
no surprise that this was one of the first things he'd taught his
young house slave. Kitten's pancakes were excellent, equal to the
best you could find in the finest restaurant in the world.
"Are they good Master?" She asked innocently.
Now she was teasing me with food. I ignored the obvious trolling for
complements. "About those numbers."
She wrinkled her nose, "Piece of cake. Should take about an hour."
I frowned. I'd expected Beth to be more resilient than that. Of
course the money wasn't much good to her now but it would be a while
before she accepted that. I realized that painful torture could open
anyone's lips, I knew that better than anybody, but Doc's treatment
was almost painless and the kind of "persuasion" necessary would go
against that principle.
"An hour?"
"Probably less," Kitten said returning to the stove.
I shook my head. "Don't want to question your professional opinion,"
I said, mouth full of pancake, "But I know this kind of girl. Even if
you took a whip to her she's too stupid to know when to give up.."
"An hour," she insisted, "*Tops.*"
I shook my head.
"If you don't believe me we could have a small wager...."
I laughed, "What do you have to wager?"
Kitten smiled and bent over trusting her latex covered toosh at my
face. She brought a gloved finger up to her mouth and looked at me
over her shoulder with a confused expression on her face. It was an
almost perfect reproduction of a fifties cheesecake shot.
"Gee Master," She said wiggling her ass, "I can't think."
"Ok, I said, "You made your point. What do you want in return?"
She smiled a sinister little smile. "Personally I've always liked the
idea of a boy toy," She said, "A male slave of my very own."
I nearly choked on my coffee, "You can't be serious?"
"Not so sure of your Beth after all?" Kitten taunted, "Or just not
man enough to take the risk?"
I found myself flushed. This shouldn't be happening, *SHE* was the
slave here. The idea of being Kitten's slave did not appeal at all,
I'm too dominant for that, but I'm too macho to back down.
"No drugs?" I asked.
She gave me a pained look like I'd just asked her to heat up a TV
dinner.
"No drugs," she said.
Beth was a Saint Mary's girl, a bitch of the first order. I doubted
she'd be smart enough to give up that number in an hour if her life
literally depended on it.
"Deal," I said, "Get the number in less than an hour and I'm yours for
*ONE* night."
Kitten gave an evil feline grin, "No restrictions?"
"No restrictions," I agreed, "As long as when you *LOSE* there are no
restrictions while you're mine."
She smiled. "Agreed," She said, dumping ham, eggs and waffles on a
plate in front of me, " Now eat up and lets go get our pigeon."
Needless to say the breakfast was excellent. We ate in silence but
Kitten's body language told me that she was supremely confident. I
began to feel nervous.
Afterwards we headed down to the dungeons. Doc had explained the
history of the place to me once. It had been built in the fifties as
some kind of Government survival shelter. The idea was that certain
key members of the Massachusetts State legislator would hide here in
time of war. Needless to say it was secret, not only to hide it from
the Russians but also to prevent the possibility of the local people
trying to break in during an alert. In '62 the place got it's first
tryout during the Cuban Missile Crisis and was found to be too small
for all the politicians and their hangers on and most importantly too
hard to get to. The Federal Government started building a new shelter
north of Boston and this one was earmarked to be destroyed. Somehow
in the general confusion following the Kennedy assassination it was
missed. Doc bought it from the government as an undeveloped parcel of
land in '65 and with a group of slaves built the house and the complex
we know today.
We walked down the corridors listening to the muffled sounds of the
slaves in their cells. The design of the cells was a little unusual
and reflected some of Doc's thinking about the training of slaves.
For a start each cell had a section of steel bars about two feet wide
and going floor to ceiling just to the right of the door. This allows
air and sounds in from the corridors and lets the slaves see the
comings and goings throughout the day. As the bars were always to the
right of the doors and as the slaves are chained to their bunks it
isn't possible for a slave to look out into another's cell. The
slaves remain gagged so it isn't possible for them to communicate but
they can hear each others sounds and know that they are not alone.
Doc claims this greatly speeds up the breaking of a slave because they
share each others despair without the benefits of any camaraderie.
The slave starts to thinking that if all these others can't escape
what chance does she stand, sees the naked, gagged women being dragged
past her cell to an uncertain fate. Eventually it overwhelms her.
By now we had arrived outside Beth's cell. Though the cells are
designed for double occupancy, Doc always gives a new recruit single
quarters for the first few days. They tend to be noisy and disruptive
and Doc doesn't think it fair to trouble another slave with their
tantrums. The only exceptions tend to be if girls are recruited
together or are being supplied to the same master. If Maria hadn't
been pregnant it was likely she would have been Beth's cellmate.
Kitten picked up a clipboard from beside the door and checked the
contents.
"Some of the paperwork hasn't been done," She said, "Want to do it
now?"
I reached for the clipboard but she pulled it back. "In there," she
said with a smile.
As we entered the cell Beth was struggling to stand. I had known
immediately what to expect, Doc had a standard uniform for slaves that
almost all of them wore. I watched her as she struggled and took in
the details.
It started with high heeled ankle boots. They consisted of a wooden
sole attached to a solid platform heel. The uppers were made of
strong black leather, like the stuff they use to make army boots. The
uppers ran from the toes to a broad leather strap circling the ankle.
The strap was really a type of cuff and was fastened with a padlock
which effectively made it impossible to remove the boots. A couple of
spare D rings on the cuffs allowed for additional restraint. At the
moment a short length of chain was clipped between them hobbling
Beth's ankles. The whole look was workmanlike and functional if a
little ugly. The boots were battered and old, countless slaves had
worn them through the years and there were probably dozens more in
their future. However they served a useful purpose, not only did they
get the slave used to walking in heels they also made escape more
difficult. As they were locked in place an escaping slave couldn't
discard them easily. Doc claims that the tendons in the back of the
leg starts to shrink if a girl wears heels too long. While that makes
it easier for her to walk in them it effectively means that flats
become uncomfortable. In nine months Beth will have no choice than to
be a high heeled slut.
The rest of Beth's "outfit" was brief. Around her waist she wore a
chastity belt arrangement. This was basically two wide leather
straps. One was fastened tightly around her waist, the other was
attached to the first at the front and back passing between her legs
on the way. A couple of simple locks held everything in place and
ensured it couldn't be removed. It was possible to unlock the crotch
strap separately and so gain access to her twat. At cunt level the
crotch strap had a small metal plate that allowed for various
attachments. At the moment it was being used to hold a vibrating
dildo deep in her twat. I smiled, I hoped she liked it because
something, organic or otherwise, would fill her cunt every second of
her time here. It was yet another of Doc's training aids. He says it
educates the slave that her natural condition is to have a cock inside
her. He claims that after processing his slaves no longer feel
comfortable without something in there. Beth's arms were covered in a
pair of black latex opera gloves that reached up to just above her
elbows. Doc likes gloves and his conditioning technique ensures that
even after they leave the girls continue to wear them even though
today they appear a little anachronistic. Doc says it helps reduce
the chance of a stray fingerprint being found. Two leather cuffs on
Beth's wrists were fastened to the belt locking her arms by her sides.
A further clincher by her elbows had the very desirable side effect of
thrusting her wonderful breasts outwards. Like the other slaves she
was naked above the waist allowing easy access to h er charms.
By now she had struggled to her feet and stood looking at me with such
hatred in her young eyes. Bound as she was there was nothing she
could *DO* about it but I was still glad that the metal collar around
her neck kept her chained to the wall near her bunk. She tried to say
something, but one of Doc's leather pad gags had been fastened over
her mouth. On Beth the thing seemed huge extending from her chin to
her cheeks. In fact a little dimple had been cut into it for her
nose. Like the belt it had a removable section at the front that
allowed for the fitting of various attachments. Something was stuffed
into her mouth at the moment and I knew immediately that it was a
penis gag, to get her used to the feeling of a cock in that pretty
young mouth.
I turned to find Kitten waiting.
"Shall we begin?" she asked looking at me amused. "These are
questions about your requirements. Usually these are passed from the
customer by our agent but as you're here."
"Oh, err yes," I said, aware of my huge hardon.
"Slave's name?" She asked, "We have her here as Beth. Do you want to
change it?"
It was usual for a master to give his slave a new name. It was as
much for security as anything. In all the years of Doc's operation
not a single slave had been recognized by someone who knew her in her
former life. Most of this is to be expected, slaves are rarely placed
near to where they were recruited, but the numbers involved mean that
logically there must have been some near misses. I mean, if you went
into a skin joint and the dancer looked like that pretty chick you sat
behind in high school you may start wondering. Of course chances are
you'd probably think it's a coincidence, that they only look similar,
still if she had the same name you may get curious....
"I haven't decided yet," I said. Then suddenly I knew. "Jane," I
said, "Her name is Jane."
"Slave Jane," Kitten repeated making a note on the clipboard. "Right.
Now color. She's blonde at the moment. You want her brunette or
redhead??"
"No."
"Didn't think so," She said, "But we still have to ask. Now breasts,
we can enlarge them if you want but Doc asked me to remind you that
his offer only covers our costs. Cosmetic surgery and doctors fees
are extra."
I snorted, "After he gets Maria and that valuable baby for free?"
"That's a management decision," Kitten said, "You'll have to take it
up with Doc."
I reached forward to feel Beth's tits. She squealed into the gag and
started to back up. Quick as a flash a crop appeared in Kitten's hand
and she brought it down hard on one of Beth's exposed nipples. The
squeal became a full fledged scream though the gag reduced it to
almost nothing.
"Hold still," Kitten hissed, "This man is you new owner. He has every
right to inspect his property. Now stand up straight legs apart.
Move again and I'll be forced to discipline you."
Beth stood as directed sobbing piteously. She stiffened but didn't
resist as I gently caressed her naked breasts. I felt a slight
tremble as my hand lingered and her nipples started to harden. Just
like her mother I thought, far too sensitive for her own good.
"I think these are fine," I said, "I'm not sure about the nose
though." The only real difference between Beth and her mother at this
age was the shape of the nose. Jane's had been strong and straight
Beth's was more of a button affair. I wondered if it was even
possible to have your nose enlarged.
Kitten shook her head, "I'm afraid she's still a little young for
that. Plastic surgery while the features of the face aren't fully
mature is a little risky. Perhaps in a year?"
I nodded. Kitten reached down and unlocked Beth's crotch belt. She
pulled the dildo free raising a groan from her helpless captive.
"Damp one," She commented. "As you can see we've shaved her to our
usual pattern with a small tuft of hair for decoration. Is this
acceptable or do you want more or less? It's usual practice to
permanently denude all the shaved area for easy maintenance."
"All of it," I said, "Completely, permainently clean."
This raised a stifled noise from Beth. She was of an age when she
could still remember it naked, were she considered pubic hair as some
mystical mark of her womanhood. I reached down and ran my hand over
her smooth pubis. I felt her stiffen but with hands strapped by her
side and mouth gagged she was helpless to stop me. I stroked it
gently feeling the faint tremors as her hips shook. In nine months
using electrolysis and hot wax this area would be permainently clear.
I looked into her eyes and saw her silent plea, if I removed it she
would be marked as a slut forever. Every doctor, every lover would
know immediately.
"Yes," I said, "Loose it all."
Kittens gloved hand stroked Beth's belly. "Of course we will put her
on a vigorous workout regime to get rid of the last of this puppy
fat."
That raised a muffled protest which Kitten chose to ignore.
"Final extra's. We have started heel training, is that acceptable?"
I nodded.
"Figure training, piercing, tattoos, special training?"
"No figure training," I said, "Silver rings in both nipples, navel,
clit hood."
Beth stiffened.
"I'd have to see the patterns for the tattoos. I want the works on
the training, both male and female, dancing, oral, etiquette,
housekeeping, child care..."
Kitten scribbled furiously. "We have nine months," She said, "Why not
sign her up for everything, it saves writing."
"Ok," I said, "May as well get Doc's money's worth. Besides it
improves her resale value."
Nothing comes close to describing the look on Beth's face, the horror,
the shock. To be talked of in the same way that someone might discuss
the options on a new car. To have other people decide how your body
will look for the rest of your life. I think she especially hated the
idea of the rings, her body activity, the wiggling and tugging of
bonds had increased markedly since that discussion.
Kitten handed me the clipboard. "Sign," She said.
I took the clipboard, "I want to talk to her."
"Now?" Kitten asked.
"Now." I said and picked up the pen.
As I signed Kitten was reaching behind Beth's head to remove the gag.
Now would come the moment of truth. I'd been a recruiter long enough
to know that this was when you found out what you'd got. Almost by
definition Doc's recruits were city girls. His "six week specials" we
recruited from the urban poor, most of his "recondition women" worked
in business or came from good families. As Doc's orders on local
hunting meant that we hardly ever operated even in Boston, New York
was actually our nearest major hunting ground. The trip to Doc's at a
nice legal fifty involved at least one layover and at some stage the
gag had to come out so that they could drink. How they reacted told
you a lot about how they'd take training. The dumb ones start
screaming and carrying on, call you names, scream for help etc. A few
quick slaps are usually needed to bring them back in line long enough
to feed and water them. The smart ones say nothing. They knew that
you wouldn't be doing this anywhere they had a chance of rescue, they
do nothing to provoke you, nothing that would risk you killing them.
The real smart ones talk quietly to you hoping to get you on their
side, I usually gag them again as soon as possible.
Beth's gag popped out and she almost immediately started swearing.
"Let me go you bitch," she demanded. Kitten's eyes rolled, St.
Mary's girls seemed somewhat predictable.
Beth turned to me, "Fucking ass hole! Should have realized you were a
prick."
Kitten smiled. "We could cut her vocal cords?" She offered, "It's
not part of the usual service but it is effective."
Beth stiffened, her reaction had been one hundred percent predictable,
exactly what a St. Mary's girl spoilt and born to privilege would be
expected to do. Now finally she realized her danger.
"Please let me go, mister. I won't tell anyone. Promise!"
I tried to look thoughtful, "What about Maria. My friend wants her
baby so badly."
"You can have it," Beth offered, "I'm sure if you let us go she'll
give it to you."
"But that mean's we'll have to wait nine months."
She looked hopeful, "Let me go now and release Maria later. I can
help you. I can tell people she's changed her mind, run away...."
I was overwhelmed by her loyalty, just like her mother she used people
up and spat them out. I decided it was time to tell her the truth.
"Your mother's maiden name was Walters wasn't it."
"Yes, but..."
"Jane Walters..."
Only then did she realize the significance, understood why she was
here.
"Oh god..."
"That's right slut, the woman I told you about the one who jilted me,
was your mother. You know I really used to like the idea of making
your mother my slave, of bringing her up here and having Doc break her
for me. Last night I realized something, I realized that all I wanted
from your mother could be done in three days. I could pluck her off
the street take her to a cabin in the woods somewhere and take
everything I wanted in three days. Then I could just bury her up
there. You see it wouldn't be worth making her a slave. She's what,
thirty seven now? Loose pussy, sagging tits, why waste my time with
her. The girl I really want is your mother as she was twenty years
ago, young pussy in her prime. What do you have to say for yourself
*Jane*?"
"But I'm..." She began. I nodded to Kitten and the crop struck
nipple once again.
This time she did scream and immediately the muffled noises from the
other cells ceased.
"Let's try that again. How are you *Jane*?"
"V...very good, sir."
"That's better, but I prefer *Master*."
I pushed the gag back into "Jane's" sobbing mouth and the conversation
was over.
Kitten knelt and gently pushed the dildo back into Beth's sopping
cunt. The girl moaned, I wouldn't have expected her not to, and a
look of humiliation flashed through her blue-green eyes. Kitten
looked up, "Now can we settle the other matter? I don't want to rush
you but I have fifteen slaves to feed this morning."
I nodded and held Beth steady as Kitten released her collar and fitted
a nipple leash. The leash was uncomfortable and Beth didn't like it.
Still, that was the price of slavery and once her nipples were clamped
she became much more manageable.
We led her towards one of the dungeon areas on the south side. Beth
seemed a little stunned by it all, she'd been brought to her cell
blindfolded and so had little idea as to the scale of the place. At
one time we had to stop while the door at the end of a corridor was
opened and I found Beth looking into a nearby cell. Inside were two
girls, one white the other Asian, bound and gagged as Beth was. The
length of the chains fastening them to their bunks seemed to have been
badly chosen because they could just reach each other. The white girl
was bending over rubbing her leather gag against the Asian's exposed
nipples. The Asian groaned into her own gag, her small body shaking a
little. The white girl went further, drawing her long brown hair over
the Asian's belly and breasts to the other girl's obvious delight.
Eventually after some signal too subtle for me to see they switched
roles and the Asian started rubbing her gag against the white girl's
inner thigh. Of course they couldn't get off, not wearing the
chastity belts anyway, to an extent they only worsened each others
torment..
I found the scene strangely erotic, two slaves taking what little
pleasure they could find. Kitten looked disgusted, I figured the
chain would be shortened soon.
At length we reached the dungeon Kitten wanted. I'd never been here
before as it was one of Doc's training areas. It seemed very small
and was filled almost completely by a computerized console. Kitten
dragged Jane to a door and removed the leash. Then she did a
surprising thing opening the door she quickly freed the cuff from the
girl's left wrist and pushed her inside.
Slamming the door closed she hurried over to the console. "Time
starts now!" She said and pushed a button.
I watched the tiny TV monitor on the console with interest. It showed
a fish eye view of the small room Beth had been pushed into. The girl
seemed stunned but a second later it got worse. The strobe light
wasn't fast, perhaps 10 times a second but is was bright. Beth spent
a good few seconds trying to bring her free hand to her eyes. Of
course with her elbows still clinched this proved impossible. Then
she suddenly stiffened and her gloved hand tried to move to her ear
instead.
"Oops! Forgot the sound," Kitten said, "This is what she's hearing at
the moment." She pushed a button and from a tiny speaker a sound
emerged that was simply indescribable. Something about it cut
straight through me putting every nerve on edge. Seeing my reaction
Kitten mercifully turned it off and I was surprised to find that I'd
involuntarily moved perhaps three steps away from the console. I
looked at the monitor, I had no doubt that the sound was much louder
inside. Beth was pacing the walls like a caged animal, face contorted
above the gag. Her free hand flapped around in a desperate attempt to
shield her senses from the onslaught. This continued for about five
minutes by which stage the girl was almost catatonic. Then it
stopped, on cue Kitten hit the button and the sound was back. A small
panel had opened in the wall next to the door, a friendly female voice
obviously some kind of automated announcement said, "Sequence will
start again in ....ninety... seconds. Please enter security number
to open the door." Beth staggered to panel and I could see a small
keypad inside. She frantically started punching buttons whilst the
polite voice counted down. Even when the count reached zero and the
awful sound started again she kept typing, tears rolling down her
face. Eventually she was overwhelmed and just rolled up in a ball.
Then Kitten hit a button and the sound stopped.
" Your number is 110681," She said
"Sounds like a date," I said.
"Probably is," Kitten said, "Why do you think banks went from four to
six digits? The brain works by association, that's why some numbers
are easier to remember than others."
"How do we know it's the right number?"
"She entered that sequence fifteen times in two minutes, five of those
times was after the stimulus was reapplied. We call this the
"Disorientation Chamber" I can assure you it's very difficult to think
in there. The keypad is of the same type as used in most Auto
tellers. The height angle and distance into the recess are also
exactly the same. Unable to think she'll do whatever she would
normally do with a keypad of that type. Still if you don't believe me
we can verify it at the bank."
She glanced at the clock, "Fifteen minutes is you'll agree, much less
than an hour."
I scowled, "You haven't proved it works yet."
"It will," She said, "Now we'd better get your girl."
Beth was too stunned to struggle, Kitten rebound her hand and we led
her back to the cell. I had no doubt her fight would return but for
now she was drained. I felt, perhaps a little twinge of pity for her
but it was soon swept away as I helped Kitten attend to the breakfasts
for the other slaves.
Maria seemed to be adjusting well. By comparison to the others her
cell was a palace. Obviously designed for single occupancy it had a
real bed, a small desk and a bookcase. Admittedly most of the books
were sex manuals but it was still stimulation. She was still chained
at the neck and her wrists were still fastened to a chastity belt but
I could tell from the way she moved that her cunt was empty. She was
also ungagged and started asking questions. Only a threat from Kitten
finally shut her up but I used the opportunity while she ate to ask
some questions of my own. She was bowed and subservient. Maria was
above all else a realist, she had seen the conditions that prevailed
for the other slaves, realized that only her unborn child separated
her fate from theirs. She was most cooperative.
From her we discovered about the abortionist, who had recommended him,
who knew where they were going and how long those people were expected
to cover for them. I confirmed there had been no one along that road
between the trucker dumping them there and my picking them up. I
smiled. Now confident that my plan would work I had Kitten free
Maria's off hand and passed her a book on child care.
"Good luck!" I said and left knowing I wouldn't see her again until
after the baby.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"What do you think?" Kitten asked. I looked up and had to admit that
the effect was stunning. In Beth's clothes Kitten looked the image of
a St Mary's girl. The uniform fit her perfectly and though I hadn't
saved it for this purpose I was happy we hadn't cut it to pieces.
I nodded, "Try the whole thing on, the wig too." I had to admit that
the thought of a street urchin dressed in the uniform of one of New
England's most exclusive academies held a little subversive thrill.
Yet good as she looked it the outfit all this would be for nothing if
she didn't look like Beth.
After feeding the slaves I'd recovered the girl's packs from my car.
Then, dressed in surgical kit to minimize the forensic evidence we had
carefully gone through the contents. Inside Beth's we had found a
small purse containing a billfold and some makeup. The money came to
about two hundred in small bills which I pocketed. The bank card I
put away for later. Maria had about six fifty on her, five hundred of
which we knew was the cost of the abortion. This seemed a little
steep, though to be honest I didn't know what the going rate was.
Still, I expect that the guy adjusts his prices according to ability
to pay.
In Beth's pack we'd also found an "X Files" baseball cap, something
that would make our job a little easier. We put the contents of the
packs into a number of large ziplocks bags. The packs themselves
having been in contact with my car we carefully incinerated and placed
the ashes into a separate bag.
"Now what do you think?" Kitten asked and I looked up slowly to take
in the full effect. Sensible shoes and socks led in turn to plad
skirt, above that was the tight sweater. Beth's leather jacket and
purse completed the outfit. Kitten wore a pair of woolen gloves that
we'd found in Beth's pack. As they would still allow the leaving of
fingerprints they were used to hide the surgical gloves underneath.
Finally, she was wearing a blonde wig of about the right length and
style. As we had found no waterproof the addition of the baseball cap
to the outfit seemed reasonable. I cast a critical eye over
everything. Beth and Kitten didn't look much alike in the face, but
that didn't matter. Height, weight and clothes carry many more clues
to identity than most of us would care to admit and from a distance I
felt she could probably fool anyone.
"Let's go." I said.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. .
I drove the van slowly towards the town of Worcester MA.
Doc had extensively landscaped around his house to hide the extent of
the underground complex. The place now looked like your average New
England retirement cottage, an effect he had spent a lot of time and
money to achieve. Unfortunately the large garage needed to maintain
the transport side of his business would look inappropriate. This van
and a small car were the only vehicles he kept there and a small
industrial lot in Worcester served his business needs.
In the back JoJo and Myra shuffled uncomfortably in their bondage.
After a lot of discussion we had finally agreed that two trips to
Worcester were a waste of time. As I had Kitten with me it would be
safe to take Doc's shipment along and secure them in the warehouse
until I was ready to leave.
"How's it going?" I shouted.
"They're a little restless but I think we'll survive," Kitten said,
"We have a soundproof storeroom round the back that we use as a
transit cell. I think they'll be ok there."
I nodded. I'd been to Doc's site in Worcester many times and I knew
we would be all right.
At last we turned into the courtyard of the lot and I pushed the
remote to open the loading doors. Doc's business relies on cars and
vans more than most, you can hardly FexEx a slave to your customer.
We keep a variety of vehicles available so that we can more completely
match the environment in which we were working. A Caddie on an
industrial site would draw attention but a delivery truck outside a
swish nightclub would do the same. As a result we have a little of
everything and most of our vehicles have several identities depending
on which State they're in. Recently Doc has been thinking about using
a small private plane for the long trips to the West Coast. He's paid
for my pilot's license, even for a conversion to choppers but he's
still undecided. Things as concrete and verifiable as a flight plan
tend make him nervous.
In addition to our agents some of whom do their own recruiting, we
have 6 recruiters/delivery personnel. As far as I know I am the only
one who knows the final destination. Most deliver to a staging area
like this and I will pick up the recruits from there. This means that
these places always need some short term slave storage area. In this
case in was a small room around the back marked "inventory". It had a
solid steel door and thick walls making it almost completely
soundproof. Putting the shipment away we headed out in another more
anonymous van.
Our back street abortionist was doing well for himself. Maria's
address led to an older more affluent area of town were each house was
set apart in it's own grounds. The houses were large and Victorian
and the neighbors seemed to keep to themselves. I circled the area
checking for security systems and access to the back. I was relieved
to see no cameras, though I suppose the guy was hardly likely to
incriminate himself by keeping tapes of comings and goings. Still I
warned Kitten to be careful as I dropped her off in an alley a few
blocks away. She was wearing a small wire, equipment we got from the
same people who supply the FBI. Such things are often useful during
the surveillance of potential recruits. As agreed Kitten would hang
around out front for a while as if undecided. This would make sure
that our man's discrete neighbors got a good look at the uniform.
While this was going on I went around back finding a position where I
could watch the back door. How many times had I done shit like this
in the service? Too many and I was still nervous. Finally I heard
Kitten say she was going in.
In the earpiece I could hear Kitten stammer out a few words of
explanation. She had a friend who was in trouble, another friend had
recommended she come here. A man's voice invited her in and we were
off. I quickly scaled the fence and ran to the back. This was one
time discrete neighbors were a bonus. I'd been prepared to find the
back door locked but was relieved that is was open.
Kitten's orders were clear. She should keep him talking as long as
possible while trying to avoid him getting too good a look at her
face. I'm sure the guy has seen so many girls he probably couldn't
remember individual faces anyway. Still, it helped sell the idea that
the girl didn't want to be recognized.
I headed down to the basement. As I'd hoped the guy had an old coal
fueled boiler, I'd figured he'd need something like this to dispose of
the organic remains. As Kitten started asking price and wanting to
know the details of what would be done and where, I was loading the
contents of the girl's packs into the furnace. I finished off with
the ashes of the packs themselves. No doubt this would seem odd to
any subsequent forensic examination but what did I care? I spent some
time ensuring everything was well alight. I figured in fifteen
minutes it would be gone leaving only the telltale residue and ashes.
I was at the back door when Kitten started to leave. She would be
back soon with her friend, she said, could the doctor see her now?
The man agreed even offered to take her to her friend. Kitten
politely refused saying the friend was nervous enough already.
Silently I slipped outside and vaulted the fence then made my way back
to the van. As before Kitten hung around for a while after leaving.
I wanted all the neighbors to remember the blonde girl in that
distinctive plad skirt.
I smiled when Kitten finally slipped into the back of the van.
"Well," She asked, "How did it go?"
"Burning nicely," I said, "And the other thing?"
She held up a small evidence bag. This morning it had contained
fibers from Maria's shredded clothes and hair brushings from both
girls, now it was empty.
"Sprinkled in area's of high traffic," she said proudly. I smiled,
soon they would have been trailed all over the house.
Now it was time for the final moves. I rejected the first two ATM's
as they were too modern but finally I found what I needed. The ATM
accepted Beth's card and was old enough to have a poor camera.
Further it was within a few blocks of the abortionist. I asked Kitten
if she was ready, the whole plan hinged on the next few minutes.
She nodded so finding another quiet alley I dropped her off and
waited. These days all ATM's have camera's. Most are discrete, you
don't have a lens stuck in your face when you make your transaction,
but they all have them. Older machines hide them behind a plate just
above your head so that they look down at your face. The newer
machines use CCD camera's or angled mirrors to look directly at you.
That was why we needed an older machine. With baseball cap in place
and looking directly down the machine would not get a view of Kitten's
face. The ten or so shots the machine would take would show a girl of
the right hair color, height and weight wearing the victim's clothes
and using the victim's PIN. Just to be sure she would be using her
left hand which was consistent with Beth being left handed. The
transaction would put her alive and well in Worcester sixteen hours
after the kidnapping and just four blocks away from the abortionist.
Kitten returned.
"Well?"
She handed me the money and the receipt. "Two hundred and fifty as
ordered."
"And you looked down all the time?
She showed me a magazine. "I was reading."
"Good girl," I said, "Now hurry up and get changed back there."
By the time we pulled into the warehouse Kitten was back in more
Kittenish attire, leather boots short leather miniskirt and a silk
top. We transferred the clothes and things back to Doc's van and then
collected the shipment. In the two hours or so we'd been away neither
girl had budged a single bond. Satisfied, I fed, watered and
toiletted them for the road. Then I said good-bye to Kitten.
"I'm taking the Limo like we agreed." I said, "Give me fifteen
minutes to get clear then head out."
"Oh slaaave," She sang. I stiffened and turned around.
Kitten smiled, "Don't forget our little wager....."
I flinched, which seemed to be exactly the reaction she wanted. With
an almost childish glee she danced towards her van and I knew I was in
big trouble. Still something about it bothered me.
"Hey Kitten, you got that number in 15 minutes."
"Yes, slave," She said with relish.
"So why say an hour, why not some shorter time?"
She smiled, "Because you're not a fool dear *SLAVE*. I knew if I said
I could get it in fifteen minutes you'd realize there was a trick to
it . This way you thought there was a chance I'd fail and you'd get
your grubby little mitts on me. It's a classic case of the little
head doing the thinking." She frowned, "Anyway shouldn't you leave.
After all the sooner you go the sooner I get to collect on our bet."
Yes, definitely in trouble.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . .
I was generally happy with the way things had turned out. Of course
the evidence wasn't enough for our abortionist friend to be arrested.
Depending on how well he cleaned out his furness there may not be any
evidence at all. Still eventually when the girls failed to come back
the alarm would be raised. I was sure one of their coconspirators
back in school would finally break and the bank transaction linking
them with the house in Worcester would direct the police in that
direction and away from the quiet road where I found them.
I was so caught up in events that at first I didn't even notice them.
I suppose we've all seen hitchers from time to time, huddled by the
side of the road waving those pathetic little signs. They look at you
with such hope as you approach that it's almost impossible to drive
away without feeling a complete heel. I mean, here I was driving
Doc's shipment down to New York in his big black limo. I'm simply not
allowed to stop, but somehow today I wanted to make an exception so I
pulled over. The first girl was blonde, bungled up against the cold
in a huge green raincoat. She ran up along side.
"Going to New York mister?" She asked hopefully.
"Yes," I said, " But I can't give you a lift. My boss is asleep in
the back and he wont pick up hitchers."
By now her brunette friend had wondered up.
I pointed back the way I came. "If you go back there you'll find a
big truck stop. It's dry and it's warm and you stand a better chance
of a lift that waiting here."
"Back there?" The brunette asked.
"'Bout a quarter mile." I reached over and handed her a C note. It
was part of the money we'd taken from Beth's account so it seemed
strangely appropriate. "This will buy you dinner while you wait."
"Thanks mister!" They said in unison.
"Shush," I whispered, "If he wakes up I could loose my job."
They looked at me conspiratorially.
"Do you girls have a place to stay when you get there?"
"Oh yes, we have a friend there already," the blonde said. She wasn't
a very good liar.
"While you're eating dinner do a little rethinking," I said, "A lot of
places won't allow extra tenants and your *friend* may not be able to
let you stay. New York is a bad place to live on the streets."
The brunette smiled politely, "Thanks mister but we'll be ok, honest."
I pulled away feeling perhaps a little better, then the blonde called
out.
"Thanks mister! See you in New York!"
I winced, for her sake I hoped not.
I quickly lowered the tinted partition and looked into the back. JoJo
sat in her strange fetish outfit, hands cuffed behind her back and one
of Doc's gags strapped in her mouth. She sat passively looking
through the tinted window. Next to her Myra was similarly bound and
was also sitting quietly. So far she'd been no trouble and I still
had the will suppressant as a backup.
I smiled, "Just a couple of hitch hikers ladies, nothing to worry
about." Then I headed on to the interstate and off to New York.
From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:28 1997
From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap3 "Mayhem in Manhattan" (M/ff B&D NC Action/Adventure)
Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:28 GMT
Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net
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STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it
is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the
author.
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Quin 1997
tmquin@ibm.net
************************************************************
Doc's Orders by Quin
======================
Chapter 3 "Mayhem in Manhattan"
==========================
Out on the highway I had chance to relax. Ironically if you stick to
the speed limit there is actually less chance of being pulled over on
the Interstate than on some side road. Highway Patrol officers and
State Troopers assigned to major routes never have problems making
their quotas, so random checks are less frequent.
Gradually my mind turned back to the delivery. It seemed fairly
straight forward. The club the girls would be performing at had a
swanky Manhattan address. Their act lasted about twenty minutes
leaving us exposed for less than an hour. Still no matter how I
looked at it something about this deal stank. It wasn't the rush to
get Myra away, we'd taken similar risks before with slaves that
weren't completely ready. In fact just a year before we'd been forced
to drug up a new recruit and use her to arrange an alibi for one of
our contacts. Such things were bad but they were manageable. Hell,
I've recruited in elevators. After that almost anything's a piece of
cake. I think the thing that was ringing alarm bells with me was the
details. Why do this shit with Myra? Kitten had proved Doc could
extract almost anything given time. Those millions of dollars had to
be somewhere. Our client could be the big hero and have Doc recover
the money for the bank. Hell, I'm sure Doc could use a few million.
Why have her humiliate herself on stage when you could get a more
tangible revenge? For that matter why have them perform at all?
Further it had taken all six weeks to break JoJo. That made her an
exceptional individual, I doubt I could resist Doc that long. What
was such a person doing working as a PA?
I looked at my overnight as it sat on the seat beside me, best to be
sure......
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .
. . . . . . .
About a half hour from Manhattan I stopped at one of my usual rest
stops and did my final preparations. Myra struggled a little as I
gave her the will suppressor. I sat and watched her for a few
minutes. Doc's drugs were extremely experimental, it's hard to get
FDA approval for drugs designed to enslave the user. Though Doc's lab
is of pharmaceutical quality so there isn't the same risks as with
street drugs, some people can have a bad reaction to aspirin and these
were not tested that thoroughly. Slowly I began to see the light
dimming in her eyes. I noticed a stray tear as it trickled down her
cheek. Taking a compact from her purse I attempted to fix it. After
all it wouldn't do for her to look bad on her big night. Strangely I
began to feel a little better, whatever we were getting ourselves in
to at least I didn't have to worry about Myra. Relieved I hit the
road again.
The Blue Note Club was on West 28th just a few blocks from the Empire
State. Back in the Thirties this had been a major business district
and had somehow avoided the major redevelopment of the Sixties. Now
the area was a little rundown but was close enough to Broadway to
still be inside the party district. As I was over an hour early I
cruised the area a while. If Myra was going to go ape shit it was
best that she did it in the limo. I had to admit that Doc's drug
seemed to be working. Myra looked like a robot, she took direction to
the point were I could get her to look left or right on command.
I was relieved to see the side entrance of the club was clear. If
there was going to be trouble it was likely to be here when the slaves
smelt freedom for the first time. The club used seedy and bohemian as
a motif. The windows were painted over with stylized representations
of Jazz musicians and their instruments so it was impossible to see
inside. It was still early in the night but s I'd still expected more
activity. I cruised the block again my instincts telling me to run.
There used to be a time when I'd listen to my instincts. Twenty five
clicks into Iraq with only an LTD for company had been one of those
times, but for some reason tonight I ignored it. I told myself it was
for Doc's generous delivery bonus but what good would a bonus be if
you weren't alive to spend it? I suppose the real reason was that I
had too many unanswered questions to pull out now. They say curiosity
killed the cat, and it seemed not only felines are effected.
I looked at my watch, still an hour early. Though the lights were on
the club seemed very quiet probably indicating that it wasn't open
yet. Chances were the area would fill up very quickly once the doors
opened. Trying to get the girls inside when the alley was full of
people didn't strike me as fun. I felt it best to get them inside
now. I was sure our clients could find us somewhere to stay until
show time. Finding a quiet spot I parked up and freed the girls. Doc
had warned me about Myra but I'd seen nothing that indicated that JoJo
was a problem. I felt unusually tense like I knew we'd have problems.
I felt I needed an Ace somewhere and I was willing to take a few risks
to get it. Reaching into my overnight I recovered my spare 9mm and a
second magazine.
"JoJo, listen to me slave!"
JoJo looked down, "Yes Master?"
"I'm going to put these in your purse. They're quite heavy so you
will have to compensate a little for them. As far as you're concerned
the purse is light. You will carry it as if it is just part of your
arm. If asked you will only give it to me, is that clear?"
"Yes Master."
"Good girl."
"Now Myra, there is something you can do too........"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The side door of the Blue Note Club was in a quiet side alley off of a
busy main street. It seemed safe enough, I felt sure I could leave
the Lincoln here without having it stolen. Doc had given me a cloak
for JoJo, something to cover her kinky costume until show time. I was
fairly confident that the purse would go unnoticed under it. We left
the car and headed to the side door. At my first knock it opened
revealing a large, brutish looking white guy who'd probably been born
a bouncer. He stood perhaps seven feet tall and seemed about the same
wide. Brown hair flecked with gray was shaved close to the skull. He
had no neck that I could see and his general demeanor was unfriendly.
"Yeah?"
I indicated the girls. "I brought the special act?"
It seemed to take a while for him to digest this information, then he
looked inside and shouted, "Toby, they're here?"
Toby turned out to me a thin willowy black guy in his early thirties.
Compared to his friend he was a stick of a man though I noticed that
he had a good muscle tone. When it came to intelligence there was no
comparison "Toby" was the one I worried about.
Toby looked me over probably doing the same calculation I was.
"You carrying?" He asked.
I rolled my eyes, "Of course I'm carrying," I said, "This is New York
if you don't have a gun the police stop you and give you one!"
Toby liked that, he smiled showing a perfect set of white teeth. He
snapped his fingers, "Ok let's have it." When I paused his tone
started to harden. "Look, the boss is a little nervous so hand it
over. You'll get it back when you leave."
With some reluctance I reached into the holster and withdrew my .38.
I could tell Toby wasn't satisfied and I didn't blame him. He frisked
me finding the holdout in my ankle holster straight away. I shrugged,
"Can't blame a guy for trying." Toby flashed me a look that told me
he *could* but finding nothing else he stood aside and let me pass.
JoJo almost made it through. She had almost glided between them when
Toby realized the potential danger.
"The chicks too!"
"Ok," I agreed, "But you won't find anything. They're slaves you
know. Why would a slave have a gun?"
Still Toby reached for JoJo's purse; and at that moment Myra made her
bid for freedom. She was out the door in a second with both myself
and Toby after her. I reached her first bringing her down in a flying
tackle. She opened her mouth to scream but Toby's hand covered it and
together we dragged her inside.
"Shit man, I was told these whores were trained?"
"In her case *partially trained*" I said, "Your boss wanted them too
early, before this one was fully finished. Her act is all we can rely
on her to do."
We paused a while to get our breath back and I looked him over again.
I knew I'd been right about Toby. Everything about him screamed
Special Forces. I doubted he was a Marine, we can generally spot each
other in a crowd, but he'd been something Delta Force,
Airbourne....something. Still he'd missed one trick. Thanks to
Myra's diversion JoJo's purse, and it's precious cargo, had made it
through intact.
Inside was not what I expected. This was not the backstage of a
thriving nightclub, even one that wasn't open yet. The air smelt
stale and dusty, like no one had been here in a while. It dawned on
me that the club was closed, probably had been for several months, and
that the exterior lights and signs had only been left on to discourage
looting.
"Follow me," Toby commanded and headed off towards the front of the
house. I noticed posters and bit's of old tickets littering the
corridor. Most were dated about three months before. Three or four
months was probably as long as a prime location as this could remain
unoccupied. This seemed confirmed when we entered the main room.
Most of the tables were covered with dust sheets but at the back there
seemed definite signs of renovation.
The club's last makeover seemed to have been in the Eighties. It had
that Yuppie, Club Tropicana look, all bamboo furniture and plastic
rubber plants. I began to think that perhaps the Blue Note Club was
what the place was becoming rather than what it had been. One of the
more annoying Eighties features was a small raised island just large
enough for a couple of tables that had been built to one side of the
dance floor. Back then it was a place where the beautiful people
could sit so that everyone could admire them. Now, a large
comfortable couch had been placed on it at an angle facing the stage.
On the couch sat a man and a woman. He was dark, in his mid to late
thirties, thin, well muscled but nothing to write home about. He was
dressed in a simple tux and looked for all the world as if he'd just
stepped out of a James Bond movie. She was more exotic, perhaps ten
years younger with long blonde hair. She was wearing a leather dress,
it's bodice slightly ribbed like a corset showing off her figure to
best effect. However the most extraordinary thing about both of them
was that they were masked. He wore a little burglar effort that
covered part of his upper face. She again went more exotic preferring
instead a large leather affair with sections that extended down to her
cheekbones. I also noticed that they were both wearing gloves, he an
open backed driver's pair, she had long black leather opera gloves. A
careful pair, I thought, not taking any chances on being identified.
"Ah," The man said as we entered, "You're early." His voice had an
educated Boston twang but it covered something else. If I had to
guess I'd have said California but educated at Harvard. She said
nothing.
"Would you care for some Champaign?" He said, recovering a bottle
from a strategically placed ice bucket.
I smiled, "I'm sorry but no. I have to drive later. If you have a
coke or something I wouldn't say no. It's been a long drive." I
think he'd expected white slavers to be quiet tough men like the
gangsters you see in the movies, because for a while he seemed
confused.
"Toby?" He asked.
The black man headed over to a cool box hidden behind the couch and
returned seconds later with a can of diet coke. While he was
distracted I moved closer to JoJo closing in on her purse. Toby
tossed me the can and I opened it letting the froth spill out on my
hand. Cursing, I stepped forward and dried it on JoJo's cloak.
I glanced over at our hosts. It would be easy to think they were a
pair of yuppies on some wild power kick but there was something else,
something disturbing about them I couldn't quite put my finger on.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled as adrenaline started pumping
through my system.
"I was told that they were to perform at a party?" I said, "Is there
somewhere we should wait until the others get here."
"This is the party, " The woman answered. Her leather gloved hand
caressed the glass as she sipped her wine, "A very private party."
Her accent was pure Mayflower, each word rolled in two hundred years
of privilege until it seemed to drip money.
"Shall we begin?" The man asked, "After all you have such a long way
to go."
I glanced towards the stage. On it were a chair and a desk complete
with telephone and intercom. I also noticed a small 8mm video camera
on a tripod. If I could get this over with I'd have another few hours
safety margin on the will suppressor.
"Why not?" I said, "If you're ready?"
The man nodded and I directed the girls towards the stage. I was
going to follow but Toby stopped me and pointed to the camera. I
could only watch as JoJo and her purse got further and further away.
On cue they started the dialogue as corny as before. Then they went
into the lesbian scene. The drug seemed to have drained some of
Myra's drive and the teasing and stroking was not as one sided as it
had been before. Both girls got as far as being bottomless and a
small struggle started as each fought for time on the other's clit.
Myra started to make significant moves and her tongue danced over
JoJo's slit. The blonde girl tried to fight but the battle was lost.
She started into her orgasm with a squeal of disappointment.
With effort I dragged my attention away and back to our hosts. The
man was turned on, no surprise there, any man would be. The woman's
look was more indescribable. I could see her gloved fingers buried
deep in her pussy from here, but there was something in that look,
some form of pure hate too insane for me to comprehend. This was
going to end badly I could tell and all I wanted now was that gun.
With a scream Myra came, I noticed the woman shudder and knew she'd
got off too.
I signaled the girls to come down and turned to the audience.
"Madam et Monsieur that completes our feature presentation. May I
please remind you that we are available for club dates in the greater
Manhattan area. I thank you and goodnight"
JoJo had fallen behind as she left the stage, the gun was still just
out of reach.
"Wait!" The man said, "The party isn't over yet. Joanne come over
here."
JoJo happily complied, fuck toys will respond to anyone with a
commanding tone. I could only watch as she and her purse headed
towards the couch. I noticed that Toby had positioned himself
strategically to the right of his boss. The white guy who I'd started
to think of affectionately as "Ugg the Barbarian" stood near the door
to backstage. Over by the renovations I caught another movement. It
was a classic encirclement and the fact they were doing it now implied
things were coming to a head.
The man undid his fly. JoJo needed no further explanation, sinking to
her knees and taking his cock tenderly in her lips. Like all Doc's
girls she had a wonderful technique using tongue, suction, pressure
and friction to best effect. She was doing it slowly, building the
sensation. The woman watched enviously then hitched up her leather
skirt.
"Myra over here," She cooed.
Myra started over but with a groan the guy pushed JoJo away. "No,
that bitch is mine!" He pushed JoJo roughly towards the woman. "Take
this one."
He beckoned Myra over and then turned some of his attention back to
me.
"Hadn't you better be going?" He asked.
"I have to return the girls," I said, "Company rules."
"We've changed our minds," He said his voice hardening. "We were so
impressed with their performance that we've decided to keep them.
Haven't we my dear?"
The woman just groaned. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed. She
had pulled one tit free of the leather bodice and was rolling the
nipple between her gloved thumb and forefinger. Down at waist height
JoJo's face was buried deep in the woman's pussy as her talented
tongue gradually built an orgasm.
"We paid for them." He said, a hard edge to his voice, "I don't see
any problem."
"They're not finished," I said, "Your time scale was too short. If
you want them neither myself or my associates have a problem but you
must give us a month or so to finish the training." I knew as soon as
I said it that he wouldn't agree. I had been tempted to call Toby as
a witness of Myra's instability but a quick glance had shown him
mesmerized by the sight of the two women getting it off. That was an
advantage too good to miss.
Myra had started work on the guy's cock and his ability to focus was
starting to go. He sighed, "I had hoped not to have to do this here,"
He said, "Too many links back to the bank...." He groaned as Myra
upped the sensation.
"Toby, dispose of our annoying little friend."
Then I moved. I avoided making a direct beeline for the purse, but
instead crouched and moved at an angle about six feet to the right.
Ugg could still shoot at me but if he missed the couple on the couch
would take the bullet. Of course this always assumed that Ugg was
smart enough to realize that. I started closing on JoJo. Toby
finally broke his gaze and started reaching for his gun. I knew that
in seconds I would be a dead man and suddenly understood all that crap
about curiosity and cats.
Then Myra bit down hard.
It was so unexpected even I was confused, it was a major no no
something a slave never did. The man screamed in agony, a sound
almost as bad as Kitten's sonic disorientator. Toby reacted
instantly, unarmed my danger potential had just fallen and he switched
his attention to Myra. I vaulted over one of the covered tables and
pushed it over. I was pleased that it seemed more substantial than
the bamboo chairs.
"JoJo," I ordered, "Come to me *NOW*"
JoJo, who up until now had been too intent on licking slit, heard the
order and broke away. The woman tried to grab her but if this was an
attempt to stop her escape or to continue the pussy licking I couldn't
say.
Toby had just managed to pry Myra off his bosses dick when the
shooting started. These were wild shots from the guys at the back of
the house. Toby realized immediately that he was in a potential
friendly fire situation and screamed at them to stop. Seizing the
opportunity Myra made a break for the backstage door. By now I'd
recovered the gun from JoJo's purse. Toby seemed quite relaxed, after
all he had at least four armed guys against an unarmed man and two
slaves. It was time to shake that complacency.
My first shot took Toby in the leg. I had considered killing him but
then the rest of the goons were probably even more dangerous without a
leader. The next I planted between the two on the couch. Despite his
pain Toby reacted like a professional. Leaping forward he used his
body momentum to push the couch backwards causing both himself and his
employers to fall behind the island and into cover. It also upset the
cooler spilling crushed ice across part of the dance floor.
Now was our chance, the two guys at the back were closing fast but the
ice would slow them a little. Toby was out for the moment. I shot
Ugg, a head shot in case he wore a jacket. As he fell back I yelled
at the girls to run and laid down a little covering fire. Then I
raced after them. Shots whistled around in confusion then I heard the
woman's voice.
"Ignore him you fools! Shoot the women, shoot the women."
Then we were out. I glanced down at Ugg as I ran over him. Single
shot just above the right ear. Not bad for a guy with a handgun in
this light.
As we reached the stage door I found the limo keys and pressed a
button on the fob. With a click the doors opened and the engine
started, yet another rewiring trick I'd had done. I confess that if
the girls had decided to run at that moment I couldn't have stopped
them but they realized that the only safety was in the Limo. The
threw themselves in the back, I took the drivers seat. We were almost
out of the alley when a shot shattered the rear window. Of course I'd
realized the limo wasn't bulletproof. If you're not the President or
Al Capone you don't need it to be. Still the whole thing came as
quite a shock. At least two more bullets struck home before we were
clear.
I did a couple of quick turns. I hadn't seen a car, with luck it
would take them a while to pursue. I assessed my situation. I was in
a limo very obviously damaged by gunfire, ferrying two, not always
cooperative sex slaves around New York. In addition I had some weird
oversexed yuppie couple and their private army after me.
Of course Doc and I had arranged a standard procedure in case
something like this happened. What I should do now was simple. Find
a quiet alleyway, shoot the slaves and set the Limo on fire. I had ID
on me. Not my own ID of course but good enough to hire a car and get
out of town. I could then arrange for Doc or Kitten to pick me up.
That was what I'd agreed with Doc, after all no slave was worth
compromising the whole organization, but part of me grudgingly
accepted that I'd be dead without these two. Besides the bad guy's
wanted them killed and the last thing I wanted was to do *THEM* any
favors. So I pushed their fate out of my mind for now and instead
concentrated on my next move.
One thing was clear. I had to get off the island. It was now quite
late into the night, most businesses were closed, most shows and bars
open. This was as quiet as the roads out of town were likely to get
before three. I didn't have a choice I headed for the Holland Tunnel.
I'd have preferred a bridge, tunnels are too well lit if you're this
badly damaged, and I knew it would be a miracle if I wasn't pulled
over on the other side. Still my only other alternatives, stop and
get another car or drive through downtown Manhattan to the Queensboro
Bridge didn't look that hot either.
"How's it going back there?" I asked.
"I'm fine Master," JoJo said, "But Myra seems a little odd."
"Is she hit?" I glanced back Myra was gently rocking backwards and
forwards mumbling something under her breath.
"No Master, I don't think so?" JoJo answered.
Doc's will suppressor should have been good for another hour or so,
but then I doubted a drugged Myra would go around biting cocks either.
"JoJo, listen to me. The restraints you were wearing this morning are
in the small cupboard on your side. I want you to take them out and
cuff Myra's hands and feet, ok?"
JoJo opened the cupboard and started to cuff Myra's wrists behind her.
"Good girl, now make them good and tight." Myra didn't fight though I
wasn't clear if this was because JoJo was doing the tying or because
she was too far out of it.
"Good girl. Now take the gag and put it into her mouth. Strap it
tight as well." Myra protested a little at this but it was a little
too late by then. I glanced down. The floor was covered in glass but
I couldn't help that now.
"Push her on to the floor and cover her with your cloak..... Good.
Now put your feet on top of her and push down a little. Listen JoJo,
you must keep Myra covered and on the floor is that clear? If she
tries to get up push her down."
JoJo smiled, Doc's slaves get a slight sexual thrill when they obey
orders. Doing so much in such a little time had turned her on, I knew
that she'd be horny tonight.
"Yes Master," She said in a husky voice.
In my mind I thanked simple, loyal JoJo a thousand times. So far
she'd not failed me. I made a silent pact that should we survive this
I would find her that kind master, that table dancing in Juan's
Mexican brothel was not going to be her future.
I'd taken a fairly eccentric route to the tunnel entrance. I admit
that it was a gamble because it gave Toby and the boys chance to get
in front of me. On the other hand the same factors of good light and
surveillance that bothered me would stop them doing too much on the
Tunnel approach road. My biggest fear had been that they'd intercept
me in some quiet side street. I was passing a building site when
something caught my eye. It was one of those transparent plastic
sheets they use to keep out the rain and suddenly I had an idea.
Stopping the car I quickly climbed up and cut a section off with my
knife. I carry supplies, anyone in my business would. As it would be
hard to explain handcuffs and collars to the cops about the most
useful thing a guy like me can carry is duct tape. For a slaver the
stuff is just so versatile. As a friend of mine says it's like the
Force; it has a light side and a dark side and holds the universe
together. In my case I carry two rolls, one white the other black.
White is good for gags, it isn't nearly as obvious as the usual silver
type. Black on the other hand is good for bonds, in a darkened car it
isn't that obvious.
Taking the black I stuck small sections over the bullet holes. It
looked like shit but it was better than the obvious rings of bare
metal. Next I taped the plastic over the broken rear window. It too
looked shit, but with car crime like it is how many cars do you see in
a day with temporary patched up windows? Satisfied that we looked
more like victims of a smash and grab than of a driveby I headed for
the tunnel.
At first I'd thought they were cops. The car was a tan colored
Taurus, and the FBI buys those in their hundreds. The aggressive way
they wove through the traffic behind me suggested it too. I was on
the approach to the tunnel thinking that perhaps I'd got away with it.
Quickly I glanced in the mirror. The two in front I didn't recognize
but in the back, a pained look on his face sat Toby. Then I saw the
danger. If I stopped for the toll I would leave myself in the perfect
position for a driveby. If I didn't stop then the cops would be
waiting for me at the other side.
I realized I only had one chance. Slowly I made my way towards the
barrier for the right most lane. As predicted the Taurus started
edging towards my left side. Timing was going to be critical. As the
cars paused to pay the toll they could just reach out and shoot me.
Unless......
Then I saw what I'd wanted. A Volvo in the lane to my left slowed a
little. I placed my gun on the window ledge, it didn't pay to be too
obvious. Distance was all important. Finally I fired, taking out the
Volvo's left rear tire. He stopped, and his lane stopped, and because
it was in that lane the Taurus stopped. Coming to the gate I grabbed
a palm full of change and hurled it into the basket. I probably paid
the toll for fifty guys but I didn't care. For the moment I was still
alive.
I was almost out of the tunnel by the time they caught up. I wasn't
too worried I figured Toby was smart enough to know he'd get better
chances later. Still I had hoped that perhaps I could shake them.
The Lincoln was a large heavy car with poor acceleration, but the top
speed compared favorably with the Taurus. The faster I could go the
more chance I stood. Assuming I didn't get pulled over. I had some
idea where I wanted to go. Doc had another staging area on an
industrial lot just off the 280. I was hoping I could find a new car
and maybe some backup. Of course all this assumed Toby would let me
get that far. Surprisingly he didn't bother me as I slipped through
the minor roads needed to change interstate. Perhaps he was following
me, perhaps he was after a place quieter than I-78 or maybe he just
doesn't like Newark
In any case we were on a fairly quiet stretch of 280 when he made his
move. At the first clatter of automatic fire I knew we were in
trouble. Car to car with handguns is tricky even if the other guy
isn't dodging. Throw enough bullets around and something is going to
hit.
"JoJo get down on the floor with Myra. *NOW*"
Seconds later one of the side windows exploded into a shower of glass.
I glanced in the mirror, as predicted he was coming up fast. I tried
to swing my rear end out and side swipe him but he was too quick. A
truck loomed up ahead. Looking at the Taurus I could see the guy in
the passenger seat taking aim with what looked like a MAC-10. I had
no intention of finding out if it was. I hit the brake. The other
driver was good but not *that* good. He shot by me and the bullets
missed by a mile. Next he dried to follow but over compensated and I
shot past him. I took a few hits and my engine noise stared to
change. I hoped it was just the muffler. A desperate plan formed in
my mind one that could work if I was in a sports car. As it was I had
a better than evens chance of getting us all killed. As I drew level
with the truck I glanced under the trailer. As I'd suspected there
was a little metal tank with a gauge on the side slung underneath.
The trailer was a Peterbilt most of them have this tank, it's the
reservoir for the air brakes. Putting my foot down hard I swept past
him aware all the time that Toby was right behind me. When I felt I'd
got as far ahead as I dared I emptied my gun into the tank..
It helped that the trucker was doing a minor correction at the time,
still the effect was stunning. The tank exploded and almost
immediately the trailer brakes came hard on. The tires smoked and the
trucker fought to control it. He failed, the trailer whipped round
striking the back of the limo and nearly sending me off the road. I
never saw what happened to the Taurus.
As soon as I could I got off the highway. I could tell the damage was
bad. I could probably nurse the car a few more miles. As it was we
broke down less than a mile from the exit. Fortunately there was some
cover nearby and I was able to push the car behind it. I just prayed
they were in worse shape than we were. I took a couple of hours on
some basic repairs but there was significant oil loss. I figured
another few miles and the entire engine would seize. The hard
decision I'd been putting off since Manhattan now seemed my only
choice. Pushing my last clip into the gun I walked around to the back
of the car and opened the door. Incredibly they were both asleep
curled up together like children at a slumber party. Myra was still
bound of course so the illusion wasn't so perfect but after all we'd
been through together I just couldn't kill them in cold blood.
Looking at a map an idea started to form, it was a desperate plan and
it got Joe Q Public more involved than I'd have liked. I glanced down
at the sleeping slaves. The alternative wasn't so rosy either.
From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:38 1997
From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap 4 "Home Invasion" (M/ffff NC B&D)
Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:38 GMT
Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net
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************************************************************
STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it
is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the
author.
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Quin 1997
tmquin@ibm.net
************************************************************
Doc's Orders by Quin
==================
Chapter 4 "Home Invasion"
====================
I chose the house because the garage doors were open and it offered
the quickest way to get the car under cover. Of course the fact it
was near the edge of town helped too. It was almost seven thirty, one
of the worst possible times, but getting the car to come even this far
had taken all night. I'd lucked out because the streets were still
empty, another couple of minutes and I'd have been screwed. Realising
I'd have to be quick I drove into the garage.
"JoJo, close the garage doors then stay with Myra."
"Yes Master, " She seemed a little sullen having woken up extremely
horny this morning. Unfortunately I hadn't been able to do anything
about it at the time. Still she was a slave, she had to learn to live
with disappointment.
I pulled on the ski mask then grabbing my overnight and gun made my
way inside through the garage door. I suppose I'd expected the
typical family scene, Mom, Dad and a couple of kids. What I got was a
little different. The woman was in her early thirties, attractive,
nice figure, mousy brown hair. She was dressed in a female business
suit, well uniform realy, she had one of those little name badges that
receptionists wear. The girl was fifteen or sixteen, obviously the
daughter, with her mother's eyes and hair. She wore some kind of
school uniform.
The girl opened her mouth to scream but when I pointed the gun at her
it died to a whimper.
"Not a move, not a sound understand?"
"Please," The woman said, "My purse is on the counter. It's all we
have, please just take it and go."
I gave her my best psycho look, "Tell me lady. Was that no sound?"
"No," she whispered.
"You just don't give up do you? Still we can fix that." I reached
into the overnight pulled out JoJo's strap gag and tossed it to her.
She caught it and looked in disgust at the huge penis mouthpiece. A
man could never be this large and still walk. I was deliberately
acting twitchy as if I'd plug them both in a second.
"Well bitch. What are you waiting for?"
"Please," She said, "We'll be quiet. There's no need......"
I put the gun to the girl's head letting my hand shake a little. I
didn't have time for this, I'd already noticed the third breakfast
setting. The girl whimpered and this seemed to make up the woman's
mind. Slowly and with trembling hands she opened wide and pushed the
mouthpiece inside.
"Now fasten the fucking straps!" I watched as the woman gagged
herself. "Tighter bitch or you'll end up burying a daughter." She
grunted as she pulled the strap extra tight, so far so good.
Then I threw her the pair of leather cuffs JoJo had been wearing.
"One on each wrist, nice and tight, now!" She gave me a look, doe
caught in the headlights. Her eyes flashed to the gun against her
sobbing daughters head. Then she fastened first one wrist then the
other. I made her put her hands behind her and locked the cuffs
together. Of course I checked the cuffs and the gag but both were
tight, she didn't want to risk upsetting me. I took Myra's cuffs and
fastened the girl's hands behind her.
I bent down so that I was whispering in her ear. "Ok sweetheart, who
else is here?"
"No..no one."
"Bullshit! I can see the other table place stupid. Now tell me who
it is? Is it daddy?"
"M...my sister."
"Where *IS* daddy?"
"With his *GIRLFRIEND*." There was such venom in that answer that I
was forced to believe her. Looking around I saw an almost clean tea
towel that would do nicely. Balling it up I brought it to her lips.
After seeing what I'd done to Mommy she had a pretty good idea what
was about to happen.
"Please no!"
I smiled my best psycho smile at her, "Listen sweetcakes this is how
it works. While you and Mommy aren't gagged my trigger finger is
awfully itchy. I could blow your sister's head clean off. So open up
like a good girl and help my finger stop itching."
She was scared. She looked over at her mother. The woman made a
small gagged sound and nodded.
"Please don't hurt my sister. She's a little slow but...umph."
I pushed the towel firmly into her mouth sealing it in place with a
couple of strips of duct tape. A search of the kitchen draws found a
few additional towels two of which made excellent blindfolds.
Quickly I went outside and retrieved the slaves. Myra I'd rebound
with duct tape so I could use her cuffs, but she'd been so noisy
lately I'd let her keep Doc's gag. I carried her through to the den,
I didn't want the two in the kitchen to know we had another captive.
Tying her ankles to a radiator and assuring myself that she couldn't
be seen from outside I wandered back to the kitchen.
I tossed JoJo one of the rolls of tape. "Use this to tie their ankles
to the chairs, tape their elbows too."
"Yes sir," She said. I'd asked her not to call me Master while we
were here.
Then grabbing a couple of extra towels I went in search of the missing
sister.
The sound of running water led me to a shower room on the second
floor. All in all the house was nice, built in the late sixties and
probably worth about a quarter mill. I wondered how they could afford
it. Still sister number two was having a shower. Feeling a little
like Norman Bates I crept a little closer then ripped the curtain
aside. I got ready to pounce on her before she could scream.
"Hello," A voice said, "Who are you?"
The girl looked about thirteen, her body just starting into those
interesting changes that make up adolecence, but the voice seemed
younger perhaps five or six. I remembered what the other sister had
said before I gagged her.
"Hello," I said, "Who are you?"
"Amy," She said in a friendly voice, "Who are you?"
"Err Jimmy," I said offering my hand, "Pleased to meet you Amy."
"Why are you wearing that? Is your head cold."
"Yes," I said, "I have a head cold."
"Becky, gets those," Amy confided, "But only when she has a test at
school."
"And Becky is?"
"My sister!"
"Here," I said giving her a towel, "You had better dry yourself or
you'll catch cold too."
I didn't want to have to tie Amy up if I could avoid it, she could
panic or have a fit or something. Instead I took her to her room and
helped her get dressed. I told her that there would be no school
today and that her mother and sister were too busy to play. I had a
friend who could play though as long as she didn't go downstairs.
Would she wait here?
Then I went in search of JoJo. I found her putting the finishing
touches to the mother's bonds. She'd done a fantastic job. Far in
excess of what I'd expected. This could only mean she wanted to be
fucked badly. Slaves always over perform when they're desperately
horny.
As they were blindfolded I could take off the ski mask. I took JoJo
to one side and whispered in her ear.
"Here, put on this mask. You'll find a little girl called Amy
upstairs. I want you to play with her until I say otherwise.
Whatever happens keep her upstairs. Do a good job and I'll reward you
latter."
A sparkle appeared in JoJo's eyes as she pulled on the ski mask, we
both knew what reward meant.
"Now remember keep the mask on and stay away from the windows. If the
girl asks why you're wearing it say you have a head cold."
JoJo seemed a bit confused at the final part and I wondered if Doc had
given her basic child care training. Still for the moment it didn't
matter.
I looked at the woman's name badge. It said her name was Sandra
Fisher and that she worked in a savings and loan downtown. Reaching
down I loosened the strap and removed the gag. She sat working her
jaw for a while. When I was sure she was comfortable I began.
"So Sandra," I said, "As you can tell we have a situation here. Me
and my friend need somewhere quiet to hold up for a few hours and
unfortunately that place is here."
"What have you done with Amy?" She asked, her voice trembling a
little.
"Nothing," I said, "My friend is looking after her and if you
cooperate she need never know any of this unpleasant business took
place. Now this is what's going to happen. First we are going to
make a few phone calls. Nice simple ones just to tell work, school
etc. that the Fisher family has a one day virus. Next you are going
to tell me everyone who you may even remotely expect to come around.
The reason is that if anyone comes and I don't expect them then I'll
shoot them as a burglar. Understand? Finally you are going to sit
here quietly until me and my friend have gone."
"How long will that be?" She asked.
"Three or four hours if you cooperate. If you're good we'll just
leave you tied up and ring a neighbor when we're far enough away. If
you're bad be may have to take Amy or Becky with us, ok?"
She nodded.
"Ok first up where are your car keys?"
"I....I don't have a car...my husb.."
"Ok I know," I said. If I'd have thought about it I'd have realized
that no car in garage and no car on the drive probably meant no car."
"Ok, lets up that estimate by an hour. Where are the nearest shops?"
I got her to make the phone calls with no trouble, one to work, one to
Becky's school and another to the special school Amy attended. I had
the foresight to have her preempt a number of people who may call on
the fly. Next I made sure the answering machine was setup ok and
pulled the chairs with their struggling contents into the utility
room. I checked the bonds and found them tight, I wasn't worried
about Sandra because I knew how effective Doc's gags were but I did
the nipple test on Becky to be sure. Satisfied, they couldn't be
heard I took the added precaution of turning on the dryer. Bangs and
strange noises are common when you dry clothes and the sound covered
their gagged moans. I checked on Myra, told JoJo were I was going and
headed out back locking the door behind me. There was an alley around
back and I quickly vaulted the wall into it. I'd decided it was best
if no one saw me around the Fisher's. I wondered what to do about
them. If it was up to me I'd leave them alone, after all they knew
nothing about us or our business. It would be a mystery for the local
police and an exciting story for Becky to tell her friends at
school.... Of course the final decision was Doc's. Knowing him I'd
end up recruiting the whole family. I'd heard that mother daughter
acts are quite popular in Bangkok this year.......
As I neared the shops I thought of Sam. He'd been Doc's agent in New
York for the past seventeen years, and was one of the most senior
people in the organization. Yet he'd accepted a commission from the
gruesome twosome? Well I suppose we all get old. My first job was to
warn him, Doc's liking for compartmentalization can leave his people
very exposed if things go wrong. Now the only link our Yuppie friends
had to Doc was Sam. I only hoped he'd been careful. Ok so I admit
that it had crossed my mind that he could provide backup, but I was
starting to think I'd gotten things under control.
Doc is a little like the devil, he can assess the exact price you put
on your soul and buy it from you. They say we all have our price, Doc
works by meeting that price, buying someone's absolute loyalty. Of
course this only works if a person has high moral integrity in the
first place, otherwise they might just welch on the deal. So Doc is
very choosy about *who* he buys. I always find it ironic that a group
of people who will steal someone's daughter and sell her as a slave
are all people who's word you can trust absolutely.
Sam once told me his story and perhaps it will illustrate what I mean.
When he was eighteen Sam had married his childhood sweetheart Connie.
She was seventeen at the time they had been each others only partners.
It was a match made in heaven, they were perfect together, I can't
think of any couple more happy. They settled down raised kids, Sam
built a business and all seemed perfect. The only problem was that
Sam was sexually dominant, into bondage games and S&M and Connie just
wasn't interested. So for twenty years he buried his dark desires and
got on with his life. Gradually the tension grew and one day over a
beer he mentioned it to Doc who he'd met in the army. Doc had smiled
that devil smile and made a bid for Sam's soul. Doc needed an agent
for his organization, a contact in the Big Apple with a clean criminal
record and a business to use as a cover. In return he would give Sam
what he'd always wanted, a pain slut to free his dark side on. Sam
was shocked, but for his long association with Doc he would have
turned him in, but gradually Doc's poison started working on his
conscience and Sam started to think why not? He had enough money that
he could keep a mistress without depriving his family. Hell, he would
get even more if he worked for Doc. Then one day he saw her on a bus.
She was twenty years his junior, as it was the early eighties I
suppose she had that preppy big haired Farrah Fawcett look, and Sam
had realized he wanted her.......
And the deal was struck.
That was seventeen years ago and Sam has kept the same slave ever
since. Slaves evolve over time, even the fuck toys. They get their
own interests and tastes. Of course underneath they are still slaves,
but they are also real people with real interests. Alison, Sam's
slave, is now a well respected expert on early Coptic manuscripts.
She runs her own business and for three weeks in four runs her own
life. For the last seventeen years that fourth week has been Sam's
and during that time she is his devoted slave as he inflicts the sweet
pain on her willing body.
Whatever happened to the Fishers I'd realized I couldn't use their
phone, the phone company records would link them with whoever I
called. So I was happy to see that the shops had a number of public
phones. I was also pleased at the range of stores and that there was
both a druggist and a hardware store nearby. That should speed things
up.
But first the phone......
For one week a month Sam was in Manhattan "on business", which
translated meant that he was whipping Alison's sweet behind or
torturing her pussy. The rest of the time he was at home or playing
golf, one of his son's running his legitimate business. I wondered
which week this was.
"Hello?" An older woman's voice answered.
"Hello, Mrs Turner? Err Connie.. My name is Charles Kyle I don't
know if you remember me? I'm a friend of your husband Sam? I was
wondering if I could talk to him?"
I heard a muffled sob, "I'm sorry Mr Kyle, I..I Suppose you haven't
heard....I'm afraid my husband is dead." In the background I heard a
girl's voice, probably the daughter, asking if she could take that.
Connie shooed her away. I don't think Connie ever knew what Sam and I
did. She knew he had some extra source of income and that I was
involved somewhere. She's been discrete and dutiful but it was
obvious she didn't want her children involved.
"Dead?" A chill went down my spine, "When, how?"
"The police found his body last night. He'd been on a business trip
to Manhattan. They say it was street crime."
"Oh God no! Oh, Connie I am so sorry! I've known Sam for the past
eight years we meet whenever I'm in New York. If there is anything I
can do?"
"My husband spoke of you often, said that you were a very loyal young
man?"
"He did?"
"Mr Kyle I must ask you to break a confidence that I am sure my
husband asked you to keep. It's about the other woman."
I was silent.
"Come now Mr Kyle you must realize that I knew. I was married to my
husband for thirty seven years, I knew him better than I knew myself."
There was pain in that voice but something more, a need that I
couldn't refuse.
"Yes," I said suddenly feeling very tired, "The other woman."
"He's been seeing her every month for the past seventeen years?"
"Yes."
"And he does things with her. Things he and I couldn't do."
"Please," I begged, "Don't do this. Leave it alone."
"Did they have children?"
"No," I said, " No, theirs wasn't that kind of relationship."
She seemed a little relieved but said, "Then she's alone."
"Yes."
"I'm lucky, you see I have the children. They're here now keeping me
company. It must be very terrible being alone."
"I suppose so," I said.
"Please Mr Kyle, if you should speak with that woman, have her call
me. I want to meet her perhaps stay with us a few days..... She and
my husband shared so much. I wouldn't want her to be alone, not now."
Despite everything I found myself weeping. Sam had been right about
Connie. She was one in a million. "Yes I will," I said, "God bless
Connie."
"Wait, Mr Kyle, how can I reach you for the memorial service."
"I travel," I said, "Don't worry I'll know."
So Sam was killed last night. I wondered if it was before or after my
visit to the club. I had no doubt they were connected. Sam had been
Military Intelligence, according to Doc he'd been the last man out of
Saigon. I doubt a man like that would let himself get mugged. I
started to ring Doc but then got to thinking. If Sam had been with
Alison then she could be in danger. Quickly I dialed her number.
The receiver was lifted, "Hello Alison?"
"Ah my dear Charles," Doc's voice said, "So glad you could join us."
"Doc, Sam's dead."
"I know dear boy. Why do you think we're here. Poor Alison is so
distressed I was forced to give her a sedative. Now about my
shipment, have you disposed of it as we agreed?"
"Well, no. You see....."
"Good show! I was a little concerned that you had. Good to see
you're thinking on your feet. Now where are you?"
Doc didn't seem too distressed about Sam, I suppose it's one of those
British things, but his clipped tone suggested that he *was* upset. I
felt that payback was looming. I gave him the address in a
prearranged code. Shifted grid reference to give the town, the order
the street name appeared in the local phone book and the house number.
If someone was listening in then they would have problems with that."
"Business or residential?"
"Residential."
"Any residuals." Meaning any residents.
"Some," I admitted.
"Well I suppose it can't be helped. Inside two hours."
I rang off feeling relieved, the ball was back in Doc's court.
I did some shopping, mainly supplies needed to keep our hosts secure
then headed back. I made sure no one saw me slip into the alley, then
hopped over the fence and in through the back door.
I opened the utility room to see quite a sight. Somehow Becky had
managed to turn her chair a full 180 degrees AND cause it to fall at
an angle. When I opened the door Sandra's cuffed hands were just
inches from her daughter's taped lips. They "looked" my way and I
could smell the fear in the room. Even if they had managed to get
Becky's gag off I doubted it would have done much good. Still this
provided me with an excuse to have some fun.
"You know," I said leaning in the doorway, "I sense a punishment
coming on."
First part of the punishment was to force them to strip. One at a
time I unbound them but left them gagged. Then at gun point I forced
them to strip. I put on the radio and made them remove each piece of
clothing one piece at a time whilst gyrating to the music.
Unfortunately JoJo still had the mask, it would have been even more
fun to have the other watch the degrading spectacle. Strangely Becky
didn't seem to mind as much and I wondered if she'd done this before,
perhaps for a boyfriend or a few extra bucks? When each was naked I
rebound them tighter than before. I admit that in tying them my hand
may have strayed a little but only when absolutely necessary. Still
their embarrassment seemed to improve their behavior. I've found that
slaves are much more manageable when they're naked, it puts them at a
psychological disadvantage.
Next I decided to separate them. Sandra I wanted near a phone in case
someone called. The answering machine had worked well during the
daytime, and I'd still use it to screen calls but it seemed Sandra was
part of the local PTA. I didn't want someone to call around
personally because they couldn't get though on the phone.
However Becky was a pest and it struck me that keeping them separate
would discourage any further mischief. Leaving Sandra tied to a chair
in the living room I toted Becky over my shoulder and took her
upstairs. I'd had a good excuse for Amy had we met but it proved
unnecessary as JoJo had managed to tire her out and the girl was
napping.
I bound Becky spread eagle to her bed. She, of course, struggled
seeing what this allowed me to do. However the new cord I'd bought
from the hardware store proved more than a match for her and soon she
was helplessly spread. She had a fine athletic body and was quite a
sportswoman if the medals in the living room were to be believed. Her
breasts were small but pert, nipples a dark chocolatey brown. Of
course I *had* to do a nipple test to check the gag was still secure
and it only seemed right to rub them better afterwards.
"Quite a gymnast aren't we?" I asked, "Well for you we have a special
punishment." Blindfolded now by pieces of surgical tape which I used
to seal her eyelids closed she could only imagine what I meant. I
deliberately undid my belt and zipper allowing her imagination to take
full effect. But I had something more devious in mind.
I signaled JoJo to come over.
I pointed at the helpless girl and whispered, "You will pleasure this
slave with your mouth," I ordered, "She is to be kept on the edge but
not allowed to cum. Is that clear?"
JoJo nodded, it was a common request that formed part of her training.
Becky gave a muffled squeal at the first touch of JoJo's tongue but
soon she was groaning into her gag and attempting to force her cunt
into the girl's face. Periodically JoJo would switch her attention to
breasts or thighs allowing the sensation to diminish a little. In
just a few minutes Becky began to experience the sweet agony she would
be in for the next few hours.
Satisfied I went downstairs. I'd taped Sandra to a kitchen chair and
placed her near the phone. Like her daughter she was blindfolded with
surgical tape but she was still gagged with Doc's patented penis gag.
She was still quite young, so she must have been very young when she
had Becky. Her figure had recovered well from two children and the
sight of her bound naked to a chair was giving me quite a hardon.
Gently I reached out and stroked my gloved hand over her exposed
nipple. She stiffened, a faint tremble fluttering through her breast.
The nipples hardened immediately and she groaned. Then bending down
she rubbed her gagged mouth against my hand.
"Ok, I'll take it out, but it goes back when *I* say. Try anything
stupid and not only you will suffer, understand?"
She nodded so I removed the gag but left it dangling around her neck.
"Where's Becky?" She asked.
"Upstairs keeping my friend company," I said, "I thought it better to
separate you after last time."
She licked her lips. "Why did you make us strip?" She asked
nervously. There was a tension in the air a nervousness that I found
a great turn on. Working for Doc I can have my pick of young pussy.
These days most of the girls I fuck are half my age. There was
something about seeing an older woman helpless like this that did
something to me. Perhaps it was because she could have been the girl
I dated at school.. Perhaps surrounded by plenty my palette has got a
little jaded. Perhaps a change is as good as a rest.
I kissed her neck, she flinched a little.
"You tell me?" I said as I continued to nibble the nape. She gasped
a little and I watched as her nipples started to harden.
"Do...do you intend to..... rape us." She gasped. I moved up to her
ear flicking my tongue against the lobe, feeling the heat radiating
from her naked body. It amused me, mother and daughter, both turned
on and helpless. I decided to play some more.
"Haven't decided," I said teasing, "Though that daughter of yours is
quite a temptation. It's been a while since I've had pussy as fresh
as that."
I watched her stiffen, her worse fears confirmed. I'd expected her to
get indignant but as I brought my hand up to caress her breast I felt
her body tremble. "Y....you can have me, but please leave my daughter
alone."
"What do you mean have you?" I asked gently stroking her inner thigh.
Blindfolded by the tape she was unable to predict when and where I'd
touch next. As I brushed against her belly I got an involuntary moan
and her body stiffened. I gently ran my gloved fingers through her
brush and found it wet.
"So damp so soon. What was it you were saying?"
She fought to focus, "I.... oh ...I'll fuck you willingly.... just
leave her alone. Please." The last word was a plea but what for I
wasn't sure. Was it the mother protecting her young or a horny woman
being teased to distraction? I meant to find out.
"And suppose I don't like it willingly, " I asked rolling one of her
nipples in my gloved fingers. She gasped sucked in a huge breath
intent on getting her offer out before she lost her will completely.
"Then I'll do whatever you want, resist, not resist. I'll sign a
statement saying I'm doing it willingly. That it's not rape. You
could use it in court if the catch you....Oh.....Please"
I took one of her breasts in one hand, fingered her exposed pussy with
the other. "Let me tell you what I think. I think you want to be
fucked. You may think you're selflessly sacrificing yourself for your
daughter but you want it don't you?"
She gasped but stayed silent.
"All you have to do is ask. To make it simple I promise not to rape
your daughter no matter what your decision. If you want it just ask,
if not just say no." I realized that I'd placed her in a dilemma,
that before she could always rationalize her needs by saying that
she'd surrendered to save her daughter. Now she had to face the
truth."
"Please......" I upped the tempo on my teasing.
"All you have to say is please fuck me."
"Please ......fuck....me."
I smiled, I'd been intent in having at least one of these cunts beg me
to fuck her before Doc got here. So the winner had been Sandra, of
course I'd make her pay a high price and I always had her daughter for
seconds.
I cut Sandra free of the chair and laid her on the couch. Her hands
were still bound and the gag hung round her neck in easy reach. I
started were I'd left off teasing and nibbling probably putting more
foreplay into a single session than most men use in a lifetime. Her
body trembled as it betrayed her mind, then he mind was washed away
too. I whispered things in her ear things she had to say if she
wanted be to continue. They were horrible degrading things, things
members of the PTA never say, and she repeated them happily willing to
sound like a whore if it got her a little closer to that orgasm. I
got her to shout them unconcerned about the neighbors, "Oh please
Master fuck this whore" not being the same as "help murder". When I
thought she was ready I slipped on a rubber and pushed my way in.
It was........ different......... Eight years of young, tight pussy
can spoil a man and of course she hadn't been taught those little Thai
whore tricks that Doc's girls know. Still she had a certain
enthusiasm, following my lead and screaming obscenities as I fucked
her brains out. She came three times each more powerful than the last
then I let myself go filling the rubber until I thought it would
burst.
We lay there recovering and I wondered were Doc was. I figured if he
wasn't here in half an hour I'd look in on young Becky. Of course I'd
promised her mother I wouldn't rape her but I had no doubts that the
girl would be out of her mind by now, willing to beg anyone or
anything to fuck her. Of course if she begs then it's hardly rape....
I looked at Sandra as she panted on the couch.
Who knows I might let her watch.........
From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:47 1997
From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: NEW:Doc's Orders: Chap5 "The Devil and Ms Fisher" (M/fff NC B&D)
Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:47 GMT
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************************************************************
STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it
is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the
author.
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Quin 1997
tmquin@ibm.net
************************************************************
Doc's Orders by Quin
==================
Chapter 5 "The Devil and Ms Fisher"
===========================
There came a knock on the door. Sandra gasped but she was screamed
out, I gagged her with a practiced motion. I went to the window and
glanced outside. I saw Kitten in a pair of white overalls and a
baseball cap rocking on her heels. Quickly I went down the hall and
opened the door.
She smiled, "Someone order an exterminator?"
"Cute," I said, "You took your time."
"An hour and twenty minutes including picking up this nifty disguise."
She said, moving through the house like a whirlwind.
"Ok," I said getting down to business, "One in here, one in there, two
upstairs. The younger kid's got some kind of problem. Seems to have
a mental age of five or six. We've kept them blindfolded since we got
here except for the kid. We left her free and just wore masks around
her. Where's Doc?"
"Be here in about an hour. He didn't trust my helicopter flying."
"You fly choppers?"
She shrugged, "Doesn't everybody."
Smug bitch.
Kitten went into the living room and checked on Sandra noting her damp
pussy and the discarded rubber.
"Have been busy haven't we?" Reaching over she tightened Sandra's gag
then reaching into her pocket she pulled out a pair of handcuffs which
she used to secure the helpless woman's feet.
We checked quickly on Myra then I led her upstairs. JoJo's face was
covered in Becky's juices. The younger girl was begging for release
behind her gag.
"My you *have* been busy," Kitten said, "Planning a double header were
you? Mother and daughter?"
"Whatever happened to *Master*" I moaned, "You called me master
yesterday."
Kitten looked at me, "Come now, we both know it's just a curtesy
title. Doc is my only master. Besides since yesterday *You* have
been my slave in waiting and I figure until that's resolved it makes
us equal."
Climbing onto the bed Kitten peeled the tape from Becky's lips then
pulled the sodden towel free.
"Hello slave."
"W...who are you," Becky gasped.
"You may call me Mistress and the only thing that you need to know
right now is that I decide when or if you cum."
"Please....."
"Call that begging, if you want to cum I'm sure you can do better than
that."
"Please....let me cum."
"Please what?"
"P...please Mistress L...let me cum."
"Better," Kitten said. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out
another of Doc's gags which she forced into the girl's unresisting
mouth. This she padlocked in place. Then she turned to JoJo.
"Finish her off then untie her and help her downstairs. She isn't to
remove the blindfold. Understand?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Good girl!"
Kitten turned to me, "Right, lets get this thing under control shall
we."
She stripped out of the overalls to reveal a nicely tailored business
suit. I found myself getting hard again. I suppose I've liked a
woman who can power dress since the Marines.
We started to clean up, disposing of anything that linked us to the
place. Ray, another recruiter I'd worked with from time to time,
appeared at the door with a large tank on wheels. It had a giant
roach on the side and I figured it was part of their exterminator
cover.
"What's this?" I asked
"Slave transporter, so we can take them out without being spotted.
Give me a hand." She the lid off and showed me the padded interior.
There was just about enough room for a body inside.
It took some effort but eventually we managed to cram Myra into the
tank. I watched as Ray wheeled her to the van.
I took Kitten to one side, "Look, Can't we just leave them tied up or
something. Do we HAVE to recruit them?"
"Do I see a twinge of conscience? The suggestion that you might just
let two prime recruits go?"
I looked uncomfortable.
"These people are a security risk you must see that. I admit I feel
sorry for the little girl but I'm afraid your two naked playmates have
got to go."
By now JoJo was leading Becky downstairs. The girl seemed drained and
unresisting. JoJo had already fastened Becky's hands behind her with
the leather cuffs so after forcing her down onto the couch with her
mother we only needed to cuff her ankles.
The two Fisher women squirmed, aware of each other's presence. The
smell of sweat and damp pussy clung to them, each knew what had
happened to the other."
Then Doc arrived. Compared to the whirlwind that was Kitten he
appeared almost subtly.
He was dressed in a business suit with an overcoat, this silver hair
and beard impeccably groomed. He looked for all the world like
someone's rich grandfather.
"Ah Charles my boy."
I winced, a whole day of maintaining cover blown. Silently I
indicated the two naked women tied on the couch.
"Ah yes this must be the delightful Ms Sandra Fisher and her daughter
Rebecca." He said it as if they had just been introduced at the
Queen's garden party. The girls wiggled a little and Sandra tried to
say something.
"Charles, were are your manners, free these young ladies at once.
Kitten I assume that there are suitable clothes somewhere in the house
please get some straight away."
I looked at Kitten but she just shrugged. I helped Doc free the
Fishers.
Sandra blinked finally seeing again for the first time in hours.
Seeing Doc she tried to cover herself.
"Please my dear young lady do not trouble yourself. I can assure you
that you have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Wh.....who are you?" she asked.
"Mouth a little dry? Charles get these two young ladies a drink."
I found some cans in the refrigerator and brought them in.
"My friends call me Doc and I'm sorry to say that this young roughian
works for me. So you see any inconvenience that he has caused you is
entirely my fault. Please accept my apologies."
Sandra sat down eyeing Doc doubtfully. However she seemed to feel a
little better when a few minutes later Kitten appeared with some
clothes. Despite the fact that I'd seen them both naked, hell I made
them strip in the first place, Doc made me look away as they got
dressed.
Sandra was starting to feel a little more secure something Doc
shattered a moment latter.
"Rebecca my dear, please go with my assistant here and do as she say's
she will need your help with your sister."
"Amy! My god where's Amy?"
"Upstairs asleep," I told her, "She's having a little nap."
Doc smiled, "Now Sandra, we must take your daughter's away for a
while. Not long I assure you. While they are gone I'm sure that I
can count on your complete cooperation."
"If I don't you'll hurt my girls!" Sandra cried pretty close to
hysteria.
"Not at all," Doc gave her a hard look, a look that scares even me.
"I won't lie to you Sandra. I could take your daughters and ensure
that they spend the rest of their lives giving blow jobs in a Mexican
brothel. It is perfectly possible for me and my associates to erase
your family without trace and ensure that no one will ever look for
you. I could do all that and worse, but I won't. The reason that
your daughters must leave is that I am expecting a group of armed men
to attack this house later tonight. Those men have been told to kill
everyone inside and to hunt down any survivors. I believe that I have
taken all necessary precautions but why risk your daughters lives?
Two of my men will transport them to your sister's in Maine and leave
them with her.
Sandra was stunned.
"You see Sandra the reason my young friend was forced to detain you
this morning is that he and the two young ladies were running for
their lives. These men have already killed an associate of mine, a
friend for over thirty years, a faithful husband, loving grandfather.
A man who served your country well through some of it's darkest hours.
When you get to my age it seems that you spend most of your days
attending funerals. Usually you can look back and say that at least
the chap had a good innings but in this case my friend had a good few
overs left to play. I feel a righteous indignation that can only be
soothed by a most terrible revenge. Ah here's the tea. Kitten will
you be mother?"
Kitten poured the tea and I watched Sandra's face. Thirty minutes ago
she'd been tied up on a couch getting (I hope) the best fucking of her
life. Now she was trying to come to terms with this.
"So who are you, the government?" Sandra asked.
"It would be safe to say that we have all worked for your government
from time to time but not at the moment. At least not in an
*OFFICIAL* capacity," Doc said, "In this case it is my belief that
your government will find itself well served by our modest efforts
here today."
"But these men....."
"I would like you to stay and assist us in this matter." Doc said,
"If you wish there is still time to take you to your sister's with the
children. However if you stay then my organization is willing to pay
you the sum of one hundred and thirty seven thousand, seven hundred
and thirty one dollars. In case you are not aware that is the
outstanding balance on the mortgage for this house."
"But how..."
"I know a lot about you Sandra. I know about your husband Gerard, how
the stress of raising a child with Amy's special needs broke up your
marriage. I even spoke with Dr. Linz not an hour ago about young
Amy's condition. I realize that since the divorce you have been
making caretaker payments on the mortgage, paying the interest only
not the principle and I realize that even that takes nearly two thirds
of your available income. What I offer is a way out of the poverty
trap for you and your daughters, all you have to do is assist my
associates and keep quiet about ALL that happened here today."
"And the men?"
"We intend to kill them Sandra. Make no mistake, if you stay you will
be an accessory to that act. Punishable by the full weight of the
law."
I could see her considering it but the result was a foregone
conclusion. If what Doc said was true she and her daughters would be
out on the streets within a year. He was offering her a way out and
all he wanted in return was a part of her soul.
She looked up, "What do you want me to do."
.... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . .
Sandra moaned into her gag as I thrust in. This time there was even
more of a thrill probably because we both realized this could be our
last fuck ever. It hadn't been easy for Sandra to allow herself to be
tied up again, especially knowing the dangers. It would mean that she
would be completely helpless when it happened.
I thrust in again. Still she was making the best of a bad job, they
say danger is an aphrodisiac and Sandra was certainly hot tonight.
She was on her second orgasm and I was building nicely towards mine
when I suddenly saw her lust filled eyes open with alarm.
I heard a click next to my ear.
"So, Charles isn't it? I must say you fellows take your work
seriously. Do you just walk around tying up every woman you meet?"
The Yuppies voice was still as irritating as ever.
"S...Something like that," I said and came. After all there was no
point in wasting it.
"Put your hand's on your head and stand."
I stood and he nodded me towards the kitchen then he reached down and
dragged Sandra to her feet.
"I must say you led us quite a chase. Toby will be so glad we found
you. When he gets out of hospital."
"How is Toby?" I asked.
"As well as a man with two crushed legs can be."
"Ouch, I hope you'll tell him it was nothing personal." I said. By
now we were in the hall. As arranged Sandra kept falling back forcing
him to keep pushing her forward. I on the other hand moved a little
ahead. The idiot looked like a broker not a gunman and I hoped he
didn't realize what we were doing. His eyes kept sliding over
Sandra's body. Down her flanks to her freshly shaved pussy. I saw
the bulge in his trousers that showed he was distracted. That would
make it easier.
" How did you find us, by the way?" I asked, "You must realize my
people will be here soon."
He laughed, "I don't think so. Want to know why." He pushed me
forwards giving me an extra impetus that carried me even further from
him. The Yuppie Bitch Queen and two men stood in the kitchen and sat
in a chair hands cuffed, mouth taped over, was Alison.
"Shit!" I said.
The Yuppie smiled. "Your message was still on her machine when we
arrived. She hadn't made it home you see because we decided to have a
chat with her first." He tilted her face up and I could see the
bruises. "As you can see she wasn't very cooperative. If you hadn't
called we wouldn't have found you."
"What do you want?"
He smiled, "Joanne and especially that little tart Myra. I've got to
pay that little bitch back."
"Then what?"
"No witnesses, nothing to connect us with any of this."
He turned to the goons, "You two look for them."
They found JoJo bound and gagged in the den and pushed her through to
the kitchen.
The Yuppie Bitch Queen licked her lips. "I don't suppose we have time
for a quickie do we darling? Joanne has such a wonderful technique it
would be a shame to miss out."
The Yuppie smiled, "Perhaps latter after I've dealt with Myra. He
looked Sandra over, "Tell me *Charles* how well does your new toy suck
dick." "Not still painful then?" I asked innocently.
"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find out," He said, "I think we and the
ladies will have a bit of a party before we leave. Unfortunately as
you ruined our last one you'll not be invited."
The two goons were dragging Myra downstairs. She was kicking and
making gagged noises from beneath a pillowcase I'd used as a hood.
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what all this is about?" I
asked.
He laughed, "Like in the movies. Real life isn't like that I'm
afraid. All you need to know is that you fucked with the wrong
people."
Myra was pushed into the room. Being blindfolded she staggered a bit
finally coming to rest against a wall.
One of the goons walked over and pulled off the pillowcase. They were
expecting Myra, they were disappointed.
"Peekaboo," Kitten said.
The goon was stunned and a second later he was dead. Kitten's hand
flew up the heel striking the man's nose at a lethally precise angle.
On cue Sandra threw herself to one side crushing the Yuppies gun arm
against the door frame. The angle was such he couldn't hit anything.
Desperately he tried to push the naked woman away. Realizing that she
was literally fighting for her life he hit her in return I hit him,
hard. The second goon was so confused having seen "Myra" turn out to
be another woman, and that woman then kill his partner that he didn't
do anything for a while. Just about the time he started thinking
again Ken shot him with a silenced 38.
"What the....." The Yuppie Bitch Queen started to say but seeing
Ken's gun she kept quiet.
I set about freeing the women.
Doc came in all smiles, "My dear children what a wonderful success.
Sandra my dear a wonderful performance, Kitten as outstanding as ever.
Alison..." He went over to where Alison was rubbing her wrists.
"....My dear we couldn't have done it without you. The risk
involved..."
"They killed Sam, Doc what was I supposed to do. If they killed me so
what?"
"Now don't start talking like that, Sam wouldn't like it." It was a
common syndrome with slaves dedicated to one master, they frequently
became listless even suicidal when the man died. I looked over at
her.
"Alison, I spoke to Connie. She'd like to meet you, perhaps have you
over to stay...." This seemed to cheer her somewhat especially the
idea of meeting Sam's kids for the first time. I didn't say anything
but Sam's eldest was about Alison's age and shared some of his fathers
"interests". Perhaps there were some possibilities there.
I looked around the kitchen. Kitten had started handcuffing the
Yuppie couple. JoJo put the kettle on for tea. Sandra was in the
utility room getting dressed . Ray and Ken were outside seeing if
there were any more out there.
A few minutes latter we were all a little more relaxed. Sandra was
wearing clothes again and the "Exterminator" had dealt with the dead
bodies. The Yuppie couple were taped to kitchen chairs.
"Now can someone please tell me what is going on!!" I asked.
Doc smiled gave Sandra a funny look then said, "It all started a
couple of months ago Charles when you were in London. Sam came to me
with a commission. Apparently a woman named Myra McTaggart who worked
for a well known New York bank had been found with her fingers in the
till. As I explained before she had blackmailed the bank into
dropping the issue or risk damaging publicity. Sam said that the
bank's directors wanted revenge and could we process her straight
away."
"You told me this before," I said, "And the story has more holes than
the Titanic."
"Just so, but Sam had received his request from an excellent source, a
VP of the bank." Doc looked at the Yuppie, "And he was about to marry
the bank president's daughter." Doc glanced at the Yuppie Bitch
Queen.
"So we picked Myra up and of course we were interested in discovering
just where she had hidden the money. She seemed strangely reluctant
to talk despite Kitten's persuasions and while we were pondering this
Sam got a second request. Apparently Myra's PA was asking unfortunate
questions threatening going to the police etc. Obviously she couldn't
remain at liberty. So of course we picked her up too. Even before
she arrived at my place this strange request about a weird lesbian
show had been passed to Sam. Even then I was curious enough to have
Sam start to do some checking, when I saw the girl my suspicions were
confirmed."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because Joanne is my God daughter."
My mind boggled, who in their right mind would make Doc their kid's
godfather?
"You see I knew her grandfather whilst I was working on a project call
MKULTRA just after the war. He was in military intelligence like Sam.
When Joanne was born she had learning problems and though our research
was secret he asked if I could use some of it to help her. Well I did
and over the years I've kept in touch. So of course when she gets
delivered to my place it is a bit of a shock. When we discuss things
and we realize what must have really happened. You see Myra had
suspected that the Bank was being used to do illegal fund transfers
and had started an investigation. She gave Joanne the job of
researching the banks files to find an audit trail. They discovered
that whoever was doing all of this must be on the board as only they
had the authority. Myra needed the help of the bank's president in
order to get the power she needed to audit further. As the president
was hard to reach, she decided to go via his daughter and told her the
whole story. The daughter agreed to help but the price was most
unusual. It turn's out that the daughter was not such a pure thing as
she led people to believe. There was a sexual price Myra would have
to pay to get to her father. Myra refused, even made the mistake of
suggesting that Daddy would not be pleased when he found out. Up
until then Myra had been discrete about her investigation. Then
suddenly our man gets word on what she is doing. He sets up evidence
of embezzlement pointing to Myra to cover the deficiencies in the
books and had us pick her up."
"Why not just kill her?"
"Charles dear boy, this is an unstarched white collar criminal,
meaning he can't stand up for himself. He didn't have the guts to do
his own dirty work. He realized that if Myra disappeared the blame
would be placed on her. He moved in the kinds of circles most our
clients do and had heard whispers. Besides Myra was hunting him, it
had become personal, the advantage with using us is that afterwards he
and his lover could use her as their personal toy. Later after Myra
was picked up he realized that the real threat was Joanne. By the
time Joanne and I worked this out Myra was in a critical condition, if
we took it further she would be permanently destroyed. So we decided
to keep her disorientated and teach her a few tricks. We had a plan
but it would require Joanne to do a number of unsavory things. We
tried but she simply couldn't do it. So finally she agreed to the
creation of a shell personality. Something temporary that would sit
on top of her own for a few days and would be able to do what was
needed, and that's how JoJo was born.
My plan was to deliver the slaves as agreed and to catch our VP in the
act so to speak. Unfortunately two things went wrong. First our VP
got word that Sam was asking questions. He realized that if he killed
Sam, the girls and whoever delivered them there would be nothing to
connect any of this together. So he hired some muscle from one of the
more disreputable executive protection agencies and had the time of
the party moved forward. He and his lover planned a night of the long
knives, to get you all on the same night. They picked Sam up when you
were on the road and we didn't know until it was too late.
The second thing to go wrong was that you arrived too early. I'd made
arrangements to have some of our people there for backup. A couple of
slaves had been prepared to be found in a compromising position with
our VP. All was set but then you went in early...."
I winced. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It had to look natural, he wasn't to suspect until it was too late.
We had thought he would come alone, that we could take him stick him
in bed with a couple of whores and threaten to send the pictures to
his prospective father in law. Of course we never thought that his
fiancee would turn out to be such a shameless hedonist, I was shocked
when I realized, they are such a good family...."
"When things went wrong all I could think about was that you'd kill
the slaves as we'd agreed. Then I discovered Sam was dead and it
became very personal. When you called I was with Alison. I realized
immediately that if they didn't have you then we still stood a chance.
Alison agreed to be bait. You see to protect his family Sam never
used his own ID when in New York he worked from a small office and
none of his clients knew his real name. They killed him before you
slipped through their fingers, the police report suggested that they
made no attempt to get any information from him. It seemed reasonable
therefore that once they lost you the only link they'd have would be
the office. I arranged that Alison would go over, deliberately get
caught if you like. Then when they went to her place to follow up
they would find the message I had you record."
"So Myra and Joanne are going to be deprogrammed."
" Joanne is of course. I would have liked to have kept Myra but
Joanne is attached to her so I suppose we'll have to fix her."
"How will you explain her being away for so long?"
"Well," Kitten said, "We usually make them think that they've been
abducted by aliens."
"Aliens, Them? Who's them??"
Doc rolled his eyes, "I'm afraid our little Kitten is becoming a bit
of a practical joker. I'll explain later."
Just then Ray and Ken came back. "We found their van and disposed of
a couple of extra's. We'll use it when we dispose of the bodies."
Ken said.
"Very good dear boy. Do try and divert attention elsewhere. Use the
Crack powder sparingly. Remember, just enough to leave a trace. We
want the police to find a drug connection but don't make them
suspicious. After all they're slow not stupid.""
Doc turned to Sandra. "So my dear, you know a little more about us
now."
"Y.....you're white slavers???" She asked still trying to come to
terms with it all.
Doc looked shocked, "I assure you we have no color preferences.
Besides "White Slaver" is such a Victorian term. It conjures images
of virtuous white women at the mercy of dirty Arabs. Oh no we're
nothing like that."
A look of horror spread across her face, "My God you have my
daughters."
Doc shook his head, "Your sister in Maine has your daughters, flown
there by private plane. I think Amy will be thrilled. Has she ever
flown in a small plane before?"
Sandra shook her head.
"Wonderful child Amy, Dr. Linz and I spoke about her case at length.
She has Prosov's Syndrome I believe?"
"Yes........"
"Brilliant man Prosov, told really wonderful dirty jokes. Stalin had
him purged you know, too independent."
Doc paused, "Sandra, my organization has lost a valued member and a
good friend. While no one can replace Sam his death has left an
opening in our corporate structure that I feel you can fill."
"Me? Kidnap girls and....... How do you think I could do that. I'm
a Mother....."
Doc smiled, "I think you can do it precisely because you are a mother
and because you want the best for your daughters. The house is yours
as we agreed, the bank will confirm that the mortgage has been paid.
That is payment for your work tonight and for keeping silent on the
things that happened today. Remember as far as the courts are
concerned you are an accessory to two murders so keeping things quiet
is in all our interests. If you accept my offer we will set you up in
business. Real Estate seems promising, we will buy you a franchise
which will make you the senior partner. As it grows it will generate
more than enough income to keep Rebecca in private school and pay for
college. You'll also have enough free time to look after our other
business. Don't worry we will train you and provide suitable staff."
"I...but.."
"Please, you haven't heard the most substantial part of my offer. You
see I knew Prosov, knew him well. We collaborated before his
government intervened, we were both interested in the same things you
see, the structures of the mind and the mechanics of learning. I can
offer you something no one else can ever offer you. I can cure Amy.
I can get her mental age back to her physical age in less than six
months. Push her IQ back to normal and perhaps beyond."
"They said it's incurable....."
"They said man would never fly, that the Earth was flat, that if a man
traveled at over thirty miles an hour air pressure would crush him.
I'll prove it to you. Kitten? Sandra do you have a calculator?" She
pointed to the kitchen draw. Doc dug it out and gave it to her. "
Good now work out a sum, any sum and then ask Kitten."
"Errm.... Yes....Ok What's 273159 divided by I dunno 123?"
" 2220 point 804 how many decimals did you want?" Kitten asked smugly.
Sandra tried three more in most cases the limiting factor was her
calculator as Kitten gave more decimals than she could verify.
Doc smiled, "Six months, that's just enough time for you to setup the
business. If you can't see an improvement before then you can keep
the business with my blessing and forget about us. If Amy improves
then you work for me. Believe me your conscience is not as big a
problem as you believe."
"And what if Amy improves and I don't work for you? What if I cheat."
Doc smiled, "You won't."
"Agreed then?" He asked.
"Agreed," She said.
"Well I must ask you to do one ceremonial duty to celebrate our new
arrangement."
He handed Sandra a padded gag and pointed as the Yuppie Bitch Queen.
She seeing what was coming tried to move her head away but Kitten
stopped her.
"Gag that slave."
Sandra reached forward and pushed the penis mouthpiece into the girl's
mouth then tightened the straps.
A cheer went up and a deal was made.
And it only cost one soul.
THE END