Convict's Captive Book 3

by Paul Blades

  Linda knew what fun meant. She had seen some of it a little while ago. Part of her wanted to resist these despicable, cruel men. But most of her was so filled up with fear that her ability to resist them was at nil. She drew her lips into a grimace and nodded dolefully.

  Ike nodded to Mouse and he went to the wall and released the chain that was holding her aloft. Her body crashed to the floor. She issued a moan of pain. Mouse took hold of her hair and pulled her to a kneeling position. Ike had gone over to the dresser under the rack of whips. He opened it and took out a quart sized glass jar and a pair of pliers. He stepped back to where Linda knelt. The men were circled around her. She looked at the jar with shock and horror. It was half full with teeth. Ike shook it for her and the teeth rattled around noisily.

  “You see,” Ike said to her, “it’s not unusual for some of the broads who come through here to believe that sucking cock against their will is a fate worse than death. It doesn’t happen too often, but enough so that we’ve been able to assemble a fine collection of teeth. We start from the back, a molar or two wrenched right from their gums. We save the fronts for last since most guys don’t want a blow job from a broad with flapping gums. But I have to admit that once or twice we had to go all the way.” He shook the jar again. “So, what do you say? You’ll probably do it anyway once we rip out one or two, so what’s the sense of making us go to all that trouble? Are you going to cooperate or not?”

  There’s something grotesque looking about teeth after they’ve been torn from their natural habitat. The roots seem unnaturally long and usually carry a trace or two of blood, not at all the bright, shiny things that grace a pretty smile.

  Linda shuddered with fear. She knew that Ike wasn’t bluffing. He had no reason to. She looked about at the men surrounding her. She counted up the blowjobs: six, including Ike. And one more if that guy who went upstairs came back. Six or seven blowjobs against gut wrenching agony. She knew they wouldn’t stop until they were all out. And then she’d be a useless hag to them. The Mexican gang lord, she knew Estaban Morales’ reputation well, wouldn’t buy her if she had no teeth. She would end up buried amidst the almost limitless expanse of sand out there somewhere. And if the FBI and state and local law enforcement hadn’t been able to find the safehouse after all these years, they would never find her grave.

  She knew she should refuse. She knew she would never be the same afterwards. But she also knew that as soon as the first tooth had been cruelly extracted from her mouth she would be begging to do it. Tears were streaming down her face. Her hands writhed in their bonds. Her stomach had contracted into a knot and was turning somersaults. Her body was sweating all over. Her mouth was dry. She felt herself starting to shake. Her mouth turned into a dismal frown, she nodded, “Yes.”

  Mouse took the jar and the pliers from Ike’s hands. Ike lowered the fly to his metal studded jeans. He drew out his cock. “I’m first,” he said.

  Linda cried and whined all during that first blowjob. The man’s meat was thick and long. It filled her mouth to capacity. It was hot and salty and hard. He had hold of the hair on the back of her head and guided her up and down his pole, castigating her from time to time for lack of enthusiasm. He pulled her off once and gave her face a mighty slap to encourage her to better effort. She kept her lips held tightly against his shaft. She suckled the meat almost tenderly, if not at first, certainly after Ike’s fierce remonstrance. She swirled her tongue around it. She did everything she could think of, all the things her boyfriend, a person she was not likely ever to see again, had taught her.

  Ike took his time in coming to fruition. He had gotten a blowjob from one of the barmaids after he had closed his joint earlier, so the edge was off somewhat. Linda’s jaw began to get tired. It seemed like the man would go on forever.

  And then his hips began their motion. She heard him release a long, impassioned sigh. The other men began to call encouragement. Just before it happened she had a premonition of his cock throbbing and jerking in her mouth, his white sauce filling it and running down her throat. Her body went queasy at the thought.

  And then it happened. His meat began to spasm. His thrusts into her mouth, timed perfectly by his control of her head, became quicker and more urgent. He groaned loudly. She felt the hot discharge filling her mouth. She tasted its salty, semi-bitter flavor. She felt her stomach flip over and she thought she was going to wretch, an action that would surely produce more pain and corporal discipline. She whined and sobbed, but she swallowed it all.

  Next was Mouse. He was quicker. Then Stitch, who took his time.

  By the time she got to Rocker, the men had resumed watching the movie, smoking and drinking, and she had been dragged over to the couches where Rocker leaned back and enjoyed it, like he had with the black haired girl, Julie, making her take her time, slowing her down time and again when he got close, and then, like the others, filling her mouth with his salty cream.

  Jawbone followed suit with Rocker, but he was not as patient and she was done with him quickly.

  She shuddered when it was Billy Boots’ turn, with good reason. He pushed her to the floor onto her back, placed his knees on either side of her head and plunged his cock between her widespread, unhappy lips. She gagged as he thrust into her throat, her body writhing and twisting in protest. He held it there until she began to choke and cough and groan. He thrust it in again and again, each time waiting a little longer, until she thought she was going to faint. Finally, in cruel, hard thrusts that bruised her lips, he called out and groaned, his hands holding her hair tightly to the point of pain as he came.

  The miniature biker locked her ankles together again and reinstalled her gag, affixing it so tightly behind her head that it pressed up against her gums and made her grimace.

  They left her lying on the floor for a long while. She kept her eyes closed and her head turned away from the men, stewing in self-pity and remorse.

  Deep down in the basement of the hacienda, Linda remembered bitterly what came next. After the movie was over, an event punctuated by the screams of the last beautiful young woman to meet her fate, Ike got up and pulled her to her feet by her hair. He loosened her ankles and affixed a 12” long chain to them. She moaned and sobbed as he took her up the stairs. She waited unhappily on the mattress of the bed in the room he took her to while he undressed, revealing his muscular, scarred body. She promised herself that she would not react when he bound her wrists to a chain that led from the headboard and he freed her ankles. But she screamed and groaned with passion as he fucked her brutally fore and aft.

  Now, in the darkness, in her cage, she wondered unhappily what was wrong with her. She rued her roaring, body wrenching orgasms. She dreaded when they would come and get her again. She heard a loud whine and a sob and realized that it was her. She closed her eyes and prayed to God for help.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The day’s journey had been uneventful. Jack stopped for gas early on to top off the tank. He left Carly as she was, after warning her of the consequences of making trouble, while he paid the cashier and filled the car with gas. He took Route 264 west out of Cave Springs and then dropped down to 412 just before Siloam Springs near the Oklahoma border. His plan was to follow Rte. 69 to Dallas and then hop on 380 and take it to Roswell, New Mexico where it hit up with Route 70. Then it would be Route 70 all the way to that little bar just outside of Tularosa.

  He had forgotten it was Sunday until he passed a couple churches with parking lots chock full of cars. It made the driving much easier since all of the business traffic was off the road. It was slow going coming down the mountains in Arkansas, but as soon as he hit Oklahoma, the road was flat and clear.

  At about 11, he drove down a dirt road off of 69 so that he and the girl could piss, and then back on the road again. He gassed up just outside Dallas where he bought a map of Texas. At about 2:30, he pulled off the road again so they could relieve themselves. He took a 15 minute break to eat a couple of the peanut butter sandwiches
and drink some soda. He didn’t give anything to the girl. Whether she ate or not was of supreme indifference to him. He only had so many sandwiches and if he ended up dumping her anything he gave her would have gone to waste.

  It got warmer the further west they went. He eventually took off his overcoat and the girl’s too. He didn’t care if she got hot or not, but it would look stupid with her all dressed up in a winter jacket and him in a t-shirt.

  He was glad that he had brought her on this leg of the trip. It broke the monotony to rub her spread open thighs while he drove or play with her pussy or tits. He got her all worked up a number of times and let her come twice. She moaned and contorted and twisted in her bonds as she came, to his amusement.

  So far, so good. About 5, they pulled into a little gas station just south of Lubbock. He gassed the car up again. He broke down and gave the girl some soda to drink which she gurgled down enthusiastically. He had just gotten back in the car and turned on the ignition when he heard it on the radio.

  A reporter was speaking:

  “…the FBI has issued no comment, but Radio 98 has learned that the reports of fugitive Jack ‘Blackjack’ Jackson’s death in a fire at the Rogues motorcycle gang headquarters in Wausau, Wisconsin have been proven false. An unnamed source in the Wisconsin State Police has informed us that there has been confirmation that Jackson is a suspect in a murder and robbery of a sporting goods store two days ago in the small town of Nellsville, Wisconsin, some 75 miles west of Wausau.

  Authorities believe that Jackson and his 22 year old hostage Carly Walker are heading south towards the Mexico border. There has been confirmation that he is responsible for the theft of a metallic blue, ’94 Mercury Grand Marquee with Kansas plates from the parking lot of the Kansas City International Airport. Authorities are concentrating their search in Texas and in New Mexico. A copy of his FBI wanted poster with his suspected new, altered appearance and a picture of Carly Walker can be found on our website, 98allcountryradio.com. Jackson is known to be armed and is extremely dangerous. Authorities are unsure of whether he still has possession of his hostage or whether she is still alive. Any member of the public who believes they have sighted Jackson should refrain from confronting him and call 1-800-98-radio. That’s 1-800-98-radio. Keep tuned to this station for further bulletins as they arrive.”

  Jack didn’t react right away. He calmly eased their car back out onto the road and continued their journey west. He was steaming inside. He flipped off the radio and then decided better of it and flipped it back on.

  The broadcast was a kind of good news/bad news kind of thing. It was bad news that the FBI knew what car he was driving and where he was headed. It was good news that that knowledge had somehow leaked to the press. Forewarned is forearmed.

  It would be getting dark in about two hours. He pulled out his Texas map and looked for a likely, lonely spot to turn off the road. He saw a place called Mound Lake just north of 380 about 10 or 15 miles west of them and he headed for it. He turned off of 380 onto a two lane secondary road, drove about 3 more miles and followed the signs. He found a road that circled the lake and drove along it north until he found a dirt trail that led off of it. He turned down it and drove right up to a ridge that overlooked the lake. He made sure that the car was not visible to anyone using the lake and turned off the engine.

  Carly had heard the broadcast too. She realized immediately that she had become a distinct liability.

  During the long ride, Carly had been unable to see any of the countryside they were travelling through. All she saw was a blackness that matched her deep despair. She could hardly move any part of her body. Her hands could clasp and unclasp. She could move her head to some degree. Her toes could wiggle. But that was all. Her legs were splayed wide. She realized why when she felt his hand on her thigh. At first, she had abhorred the ready availability of her tender, sensitive skin. But as the miles went on, miles filled with an utter lack of any stimulation of any kind, other than the twangy country radio stations he kept finding, the touch of his hand was a perverse sort of welcome diversion.

  When he slipped his hand over her pussy she realized why the seat had been set to lean backwards. It made her pussy lips readily available. As had been happening, the moment he touched her there, her lusts began to rise. He toyed and fingered her there for a long time, starting and stopping, measuring her excitement by her squirming and her moans, his light fingers delivering just the right amount of varying sensations to make her pussy yearn for completion. When he got her near the top, he would stop. She would issue an irrepressible groan and he would laugh and pat her on the thigh. Ten or fifteen minutes later, he would begin again.

  Twice he had let her come. She groaned with pleasure and her body shuddered with each mighty contraction. And afterwards, she was ashamed of how easily he manipulated her, how desperate she had been for release. She would cry silently, knowing that he couldn’t see her tears and would have no pretext to punish her.

  But most of the time had been spent in terrible isolation. Hour after hour after hour. It was like those times the day before he had left her in total isolation, almost as if that time was a dry run for this trip. All she could do was think dreadful thoughts. Several times she started crying out of the blue and had to control herself lest she break out into heartfelt sobs, an event that she knew would not go unpunished.

  The fact that they were travelling in broad daylight made it seem all the worse. The world was out there. She couldn’t see it, but it could see her. She knew that people had to notice her sitting so seemingly peaceably in the front passenger seat. When he stopped for gas, she could hear other people around, men and women, even kids. She wanted to cry out to them, beg them for help. But she knew that she daren’t make a single sound to attract attention. He had as much as told her each time he left the car to pay and pump the gas. But she kept alive the hope that someone would notice the blindfold under her sunglasses, the bit of blue from the ball stuck in her mouth, the helpless way she turned her head back and forth. Maybe recognize him and call the police.

  The thought kept going through her mind that this was her last day on earth. She yearned to see the sun, the faces of other people, to feel a part of the world for one last time. He was going to snuff her out like an unwanted pet. Her mind was filled with the dark thoughts of nothingness. It was no wonder that she welcomed the distraction of his hand on her flesh, took pleasure in the stroking of her cunt, yearned to be brought over the waterfall of passion, to feel the blood rushing through her, to feel her heart pumping wildly, to feel the thrill of her sexual organ in celebration.

  When they stopped for bathroom breaks, she stretched her legs as well as she could, enjoying the brief release from her harsh confinements. When he tied her back into her seat, she would have to control herself to prevent herself from breaking out into miserable sobs. And each time they pulled down a bumpy country road or trail, she would fill with panic that now was the time, that he had finally decided to get rid of her. It was with great relief to find that he had stopped merely so that he and she could piss.

  But this time, this was different. She had heard the news broadcast too. It was like the FBI had read his mind. She felt a surge of gratitude that they were still looking for him, for her, that they hadn’t given up. But she knew, at the same time, that anything that increased the likelihood of a confrontation with the authorities was a danger to the man. And her sitting with him in this car was one of those things.

  She hadn’t known that he had killed a store clerk back where they stopped the first night. She had been locked in the bathroom in the tub at the time. She confessed to herself that she knew that he had done something awful when he came back with the guns and the clothes and the money. If she had given it much thought, she would have realized that he couldn’t leave any witnesses to his depredations. She had been too wrapped up in the thoughts of her own survival to think about it. She felt bad about it now.

  She wondered who the clerk was, w
hether he had any family, any children. Someone would mourn for him, that was for sure. The radio hadn’t said whether it was a man or a woman, but she assumed it was a man since if it was a woman the news people would have made a bigger thing of it. Despite her anger at God for letting her become the prisoner of this animal, she said a little prayer for the clerk’s soul.

  But her thoughts of the man’s fate soon passed. As soon as they turned off the highway, her blood ran cold. Then, when the car made a couple of twisty turns, she knew for sure that he wasn’t just stopping for gas or something. When the car started to bump and rock, she knew that they were on a dirt road and that the man was seeking an isolated spot where no one would see them. She started to cry.

  Jack turned off the engine to the car and leaned back in the seat. He lit a cigarette. He could hear the girl sniffling. Well, she had good reason to be afraid. He knew she had heard the broadcast. It didn’t take a rocket engineer to figure out that there was a problem and she was it. He looked about. There was nothing all around except for a nice stand of cottonwood trees just starting to bloom. The ground was covered with green prairie grass about 6 or 7 inches high. It had rained recently and the ground looked soft and would be good for digging. It was a beautiful place, kind of like a glade.

  He had promised himself that if he had to do it he would find someplace nice where he could think of her sleeping until eternity. Somehow that made the thought of ending her life just a little easier to take. In years to come he would think on it and realize that he had done right for her after all the pleasure she had given him. It was a shame though. She had almost made it all the way. But it was as good a spot as any.