by Paul Blades
She began to wail. Jack shoved the prod up against her again. He pushed it under her chin and lifted her face so that she was looking at him. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled at her. She continued to wail.
“Now!” he said. “Or I’ll give you another one!”
That got her attention. She clasped her lips together tightly and nodded her head vigorously. Her chest was heaving and her bound hands were held tight against it, covering her breasts.
“Put your hands down!” Jack ordered curtly.
She slowly lowered them until they were by her waist. You could tell that she was ready to bring them back up in an instant should Jack threaten to give her another jolt. The prod was jammed up under her chin.
“Learned your lesson?” Jack asked her.
She nodded as well as she could, her eyes pleading hopefully for no more violence.
“Okay,” Jack told her. “Get up!”
She rose to her feet. She gave Jack no more trouble. When he was done with her, he brought her over to where Stitch was waiting. The brown haired girl was in her cage. The FBI lady had finished her meal and was kneeling there, brown faced, awaiting orders.
“You can do her,” Stitch said. “I’m going to take a little of the edge off.”
“No problem,” Jack said.
He led the FBI lady over to the shower. He thought twice about undoing her wrists. He realized that she was probably trained in self-defense and apprehension techniques. The rule was for broads like this to always have them confined in some way. If their hands were free, their legs should be bound, and vice versa. And if both were free, she should be chained to something. He could see her eyes flitting about, calculating the odds of this and that. But there was a submissiveness to them too. The boys had had her out last night and had a good time with her. Her body bore the marks of the whip, and pretty fresh too. She had been taught a lesson or two, he was sure. But you had to be careful dealing with a broad like this. He kept her hands fastened behind her back.
It was a pleasure to manhandle her body. Like the Ramirez woman, she was older and more mature. Her flesh had a mellowness to it. “I must be getting old,” Jack thought to himself. They used to throw ones like this away in the old days. But now he was wondering what that Morales guy would do with her. It would be fun to train her. She had just the right amount of surliness and inner strength that would make it a challenge. “Fuck her,” Jack thought when his thoughts went to the girl upstairs. He could have a good time with this one.
Stitch was getting a blow job from Mrs. Ramirez and was seeming to enjoy it. He was grunting and moaning as he slid his cock in and out of the mouth of the kneeling woman. She had a remorseful look on her face. Jack was sure she would have to give quite a few blowjobs before she was reunited with her hubby. And more, too. She would survive, but sucking a cock was never going to be the same again.
Jack held the elbow of the FBI lady as he waited for Stitch to finish. He concluded with a loud groan and a frantic pumping of his cock into the woman’s mouth. When he finally pulled her off, she was crying again. He patted her on the head and said, “Thanks, honey,” and then reinstalled her gag. He made her shuffle on her knees over to her cage, fastened her wrists to her ankles and bound them together with the 6” chain. She shuffled the last few feet into her cage and Stitch slammed it shut.
He turned to Jack. “Why don’t you knock a piece off of the FBI lady before you come upstairs,” he suggested. “I’ll leave you the key and you can lock up when you’re done.”
“Suits me fine,” Jack replied.
Stitch took the key chain out of his pocket and, after showing Jack which key was which, handed them to him.
“See what I mean,” he said. “There’s hundreds of these broads around. And you’re going to have your pick of them. Forget that girl upstairs. You would have gotten tired of her in a little while anyways.”
Maybe, maybe not, Jack thought. But he was going to fuck this one now.
“See you upstairs,” he told Stitch.
“Make sure you bring the dog dishes,” Stitch reminded him. “And hang up the prod outside. If one of these bitches managed somehow to get free, I wouldn’t want to be greeted with it when I opened the door.”
“Will do,” Jack replied.
He left the FBI lady standing naked in the middle of the room while he went over to the door and unlocked it so Stitch could leave. The grey haired biker gave him a nod and Jack closed the door behind him. When he returned to the room, the FBI lady was looking at him, dismay in her eyes.
Jack picked up the prod. He raised it and started to approach the woman. She backed away, apprehension now showing. She kept going until she hit the wall. Jack was right behind her. He took the prod and jabbed it against her belly. “We’re not going to have any problems, are we, bitch?” he asked.
Special Agent Linda Kramer felt her body shudder. She was looking at the man who had been described to her as one of the meanest men alive. She had seen what he did to the other woman. That was just a sample of what he was capable of. The man pushed the prod up against her breasts, poking them, pushing them back and forth. What did her FBI training tell her to do now? She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to submit. She had been given a taste of the prod last night when they went to return her to her cage. It was the guy they called Billy Boots who brought her down. She had done nothing wrong. But the diminutive guy had shoved her into her cage and then went at her with it. He must have given her five or six shocks, all in rapid succession, laughing all the while.
Later, in the dark, after he had left, she cried and cried. She knew that the others could hear her. She knew that she should be a strong example of resistance and hope for the other females, but she couldn’t help it. What was happening was all too horrible to think of.
She had heard one of the men last night say something about her going to Mexico. She didn’t want to go there, but if that was their plan for her it meant at least that they weren’t going to kill her. She wanted to live, desperately wanted to live. And she wanted to experience as little pain as possible in the process. But there was something inside her that wouldn’t let her surrender. She couldn’t give in to this monster. It went against everything she had been taught. For her own self esteem she had to oppose him. She would not give in!
“…uck ooouuu!” she spat out at Jack from behind her gag. Jack just smiled. He dropped the prod down quickly to her pussy before she could react and pulled the trigger. It made a loud noise.
“Ooooooouuuuuuuummmmmpf!” Linda called out as she collapsed to the floor. It felt like someone had kicked her there. She felt the prod touching her rear cheek and before she had time to move away, the prod sparked again and she was punched in the ass, forcing her to roll over and screech loudly. This time he pushed it against her breast. She wanted to shout, “No!” when the current passed through to her with a jolt. She screamed and rolled over again.
Jack held the prod up. It needed to recharge. The FBI lady was scrambling to get further away from him. She was sobbing and wailing. Jack just followed her, waiting for the prod to reboot. It didn’t take long. He backed her into a corner. She stared at him wide eyed as he extended the prong once again. Her urge to rebellion had now dissipated. She was ready to do whatever he said, but she had no way to communicate it to him. “…eeeeeeese! ...on’t!” she tried to say. The prod was stuck against her belly. “Crack!”
“Ooooouuuuuuuuuuuuu!” she screamed. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! …on’t! …on’t! …eeeeeeeeeease!” she tried to yell. “Crack!” Another jolt of electricity made her body cringe and her muscles cramp violently. And then, “Crack!, this time against her ass again as she had rolled into a ball to protect herself. It felt like he had struck her there with a baseball bat. “Ooooouuuuuuuuu! Ooouuuuuuuuuuuu! ….ease …op! …ease op! ..m …eggin ouuuuu! ….eeeeeease …op! …eeeeeeeeeeease!”
Jack paused while the prod reloaded. “So, you’re going to be a good girl?” he asked her tauntingly.
“…es! ….es! I …ill! I …ill!” she replied frantically. She looked up at the man piteously. Her bravery had all run out on her. Surely she had done enough to satisfy convention! Surely her masters at the FBI didn’t expect her to go through more than this!
But it was more than her concern about letting the Bureau down that had motivated her revolt. More than the need to put up a brave front for the other women. Last night the men had used her and it had been horrible and degrading and painful and shameful. She had experienced no lust or pleasure at it. But the night before, when Ike had taken her upstairs, that had been different. She had responded then and in a way that frightened her, shook her self-concepts to their very core. And it would be that way again now, she was sure of that.
This cruel, hard man would put his hands on her and bring her feelings and desires that were repugnant and shameful. How would the other women think of her? How could they ever have trust in her if she was somehow to lead them to freedom, as remote as that possibility was? And how would it seem to her superiors if they ever did get free and these women told them what they had seen her do and how she experienced it?
But that all paled from the reality of the fact that Blackjack was willing to induce as much suffering as it took to force her to comply. Whatever her power of resistance, his power would be stronger and last longer. There was no way she could win. She surrendered to her fate.
Jack let her lie there a minute or so. Then he told her to get up. She rose wobbly to her feet, casting dark, hateful glances at him. He pushed her with the prod until she was in the middle of the room, facing the cages. Hooking the prod into his belt, he stepped behind her. Her bound hands were sitting on the top of the rise of her rear cheeks. He released his hardened cock from his pants and he pressed it against them. “Take hold of it,” he ordered.
Her hands were fastened palm to palm and she was able to open them enough to let his rigid manhood to slip in. She whined as she felt his rigidness, his heat against her hands. He circled his own hands around her chest and took hold of her breasts. He started massaging and caressing them. Linda felt the vibrations of her nascent arousal immediately. She looked out and she could see that the eyes of the other women were on her. She whined and her body shifted. The man’s hands clasped tightly around her breasts.
“Hold steady, bitch,” he told her. He took hold of her nipples and twisted them. She cringed in pain. She stilled. The hands went back to work.
They explored her breasts and belly, travelling lightly over her skin, spreading their warmth. But they always came back to her breasts, kneading them, massaging them, caressing them, pulling on her teats, circling them and squeezing them tightly. All the time his cock was in her hands. His weapon, his meat, his prick, and the sensation of holding on to the object that would enter her, provoke her passions, drive her lusts, was shameful and so, so exciting.
He gave her breasts a squeeze and took hold of her nipples, stretching them from her, pulling her breasts out as far as they would go. The tension on her flesh was too much to take. She issued an unhappy moan. She had closed her eyes long ago, but now shut them harder, trying to block out what was happening to her, trying to erase the image of her standing before the other women as she succumbed to the man’s attentions.
Then, while one hand continued to caress her breasts, the other dropped ever so slowly over her belly and down to her loins. It brushed across her sparse growth and delicately flitted over her pudenda. She shivered and suppressed a moan. When a long, thick finger slipped from the base of her divide slowly, slowly to the top, burying itself deeper and deeper into the channel between her love lips, she did moan and she regretted it fiercely.
The man soon had her crevasse dilated and mushy. He had leaned her over just a smidgeon so as to reach her loins and her breasts were swinging free from her body. Her hands had grasp of the man’s meat and were caressing it mindlessly. When she moaned again, the hand in her loins driving her to distraction, he slipped his hand free from her now steaming sex and slipped his cock free of her hands. He took hold of her neck and pressed her forward. “Spread your legs,” he told her. She swallowed a sob and spread them.
He had her half bent over. His hand was coming in from behind her now and he was able to thrust two fingers deeply inside her with ease. He ran them back and forth for a while, making her moan and shift her hips. And then he stepped forward. His left hand had hold of her neck and pressed her down even further, until she was almost tipped over. His right hand guided his steely shaft to her crevasse. It bumped up against her swollen love lips, pushed for a moment against her perineum, and then, finding her hole, slipped right in.
Linda Kramer of the FBI, Special Agent, top of her class, rigid devotee of the Bureau, issued a deep, satisfied sigh. She hated herself for it, but there it was. When the man’s motions began, she groaned and began to ease her hips back and forth to meet him.
Jack sighed too as he plunged deep into the woman’s divide. Its walls seemed to grasp him firmly. Her interior was hot and soft. His cock glided along, in and out, happily. He bent the woman over even further, holding on firmly to her hair and prodded her legs further apart. Now he was truly buried deep inside her. His thrusts were long and hard. He could feel the tingling which presaged completion and he suppressed it, enjoying too much the feel of gliding over her velvety interior back and forth again and again.
Linda whined as her hair grew taut. She couldn’t move her hips now with them all distended, but she received each stroke of the man’s cock as if it was a gift. She had felt his immensity and length with her hands, his shape, his contours, and she was able to imagine his instrument as it plunged along her crevasse driving her closer and closer to explosion with each thrust.
Her face was tilted upwards, facing the cages. She opened her eyes for a moment and saw the stupefied faces of her sister captives staring back at her. A wave of humiliation passed through her, but it was soon negated by the ever increasing passions that the man was producing in her. She felt her need rising and she began to utter little, impassioned groans each time the cock buried itself within her to the hilt. “Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!”
The man’s thrusts were coming harder and faster. His grip on her hair tightened. Her loose breasts were swinging to and fro. It was coming! It was coming! She couldn’t do anything about it! “Oh, stop! Stop! Stop! Please! Please! Pleeeeeeeeeeease!” she thought madly.
And then it hit her. Her body shuddered and her pussy clenched tightly. The man behind her released a deep, urgent groan. His other hand had been on her hip, but now circled her and took hold of a breast, squeezing it hard.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmpf! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmpf! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmpf!” she moaned as her pussy delivered a series of hard, intense jolts to her. Pleasure washed through her. She screamed and moaned.
Jack was holding on tight. His cock was dancing and jerking and pulsing deep in the woman’s cunt. “Oh, yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” he thought. This was the thing! This was the thing to make him forget her! “Ahhhhhhhhhrgh! Ahhhhhhhhhhrgh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhrgh!” he groaned.
And then his spasms began to wind down. He slowed his thrusts. The woman’s pussy was still giving him pleasurable squeezes, but ever softer and softer. He let his cock give him a few more twinges of delight and then he stopped. He paused a moment and then slipped his softening meat from its home. The girl issued a deep sigh. He pulled on her hair until she was standing up. He gave her breasts a couple more satisfying squeezes and then ordered her to her knees. Still holding her hair, he made her shuffle over to her cage. He then connected her ankles to each other and then to her hands. He ordered her in.
“Yeah, this one would be fun to train,” he thought. Maybe giving up the girl wouldn’t be so bad after all. When the FBI lady was in the cage, he slammed the door shut and locked it.
He picked up the dog dishes and checked the room one more time. He went to each cage and double checked it to make sure that it was locked. He went to the door, took out the ke
ys Stitch had given him and opened it. Before he turned out the light, he took one more look around the room. The woman was curled as much as she could into a ball, her eyes jammed shut. The other females were staring at him with fear. “See you later, ladies,” he said to himself and he shut the light and closed the door.
Linda welcomed the pitch darkness. She heard the locks being closed on the door. A moment later there was silence. All except for her doleful sobs.
CHAPTER TEN
Jack still felt a little woozy from all the booze and the dope he had smoked. He found, too, that having fucked the FBI lady hadn’t taken his mind off of his captive for very long. He trudged up the stairs from the cellar with a feeling of foreboding. By now, he assumed, Ike had finished fucking her and he would have to decide whether to go upstairs and examine the fruits of his abuse, or to sulk for the rest of the day downstairs.
He came up to the ground floor and entered the main room. Big Betty was standing near the door getting ready to leave. A very morose looking Maureen was there. She was dressed in a pair of cut off denim shorts and an orange tube top, the clothes, Jack presumed, that she had been captured in. A pair of flat leather sandals was on her feet. Her hands were bound behind her. She was wearing her head harness and had the harsh gag in her mouth that Jack had seen Big Betty adorn her with in the kitchen earlier. She looked more forlorn than she had been when she was naked. Somehow being in her own clothes highlighted the freedom and rights she had lost. Jack had no doubt that it was the last time she would wear them, maybe wear any clothes at all. It was a poignant sight.
The girl, Vida, was dressed in her yellow sheath dress and wearing a pair of high heeled sandals. She held the chain that led to the gag in Maureen’s mouth.
Big Betty was dressed in her expansive, dirty blue jeans and a denim vest over a black t-shirt that had white lettering on it that said, “If I Had Balls, They’d be Bigger Than Yours!”