by Argus, JJ
He bent and hefted her over one shoulder, then motioned Penny and I back, and left, locking the hatch behind. After a few seconds we heard the sound of applause from somewhere not very far away, the sound of ragged mens' jeers and approval. It softened as we lay back on our bunks, but now and then we could hear a cheer or a shout from some man or other.
The sky darkened and the door opened once again. A new man appeared, bald, foreign seeming, and with a goatee. He looked at us dourly, then motioned us out. "I will take you on deck for some air," he said with a discernable accent. "Do not do anything foolish. I am not nearly so kind and gentle and forgiving as your earlier masters."
We were led down a narrow corridor to a steep staircase, then up it to another level above. We could hear the men much more clearly now, and as we turned to take the stairs to the next level passed an open hatchway.
There were perhaps a dozen men inside. They were a rough and ragged looking group, unshaven and crude. And Sara was with them. She was straddling one rough looking man who sat in a chair, his cock was thick and seemed to gleam in the light as it pierced her shaven sex. I could quite clearly see the tautness of her labia as they squeezed together around it, and watched them pushed inward as she slid down to take the thing deep within her.
She moaned in apparent pleasure, then pulled herself up, only to sink down once more, riding him with great enthusiasm. I had never seen anyone having actual intercourse before, and was slightly startled for a moment.
She was showing none of the anger or rebelliousness she had below. Her eyes were alight, a look of lust and pleasure on her face as she rode the man's shaft with wild abandon, the muscles in her thighs moving strongly as she impaled herself repeatedly on the upright prong. Another man stood just to her right, and her head was twisted so that she could take him into her mouth. She was bobbing her lips excitedly - or pretending to at any rate, as the room full of men looked on with sneers and obscene comments on their lips.
A man moved behind her, an erection pushing against her backside, and she drew her lips off the cock beside her long enough to shout in delight. "Yes! Oh God! Fuck my ass! Fuck my filthy ass! I love being fucked in the ass and cunt at the same time! Fill me with your wonderful cocks!"
Her voice was emotional, yet I heard the edge of hysteria in it even as a rough hand jerked her mouth back and it was filled with cock once again. I felt ashamed at having watched the performance, at having seen how this intelligent, strong-willed girl so degraded herself before such common trash.
"Move," the goateed man ordered.
I turned away and climbed the next narrow staircase to the deck above, then walked out to stare at the sea, followed by Penny.
"Nothing in sight," the man said in satisfaction. "You are far from home. You go to a new life in a new world."
"Yes, master," we said softly.
"That girl below, she still thinks of herself as better than she is. That is why I give her to the crew and my men. They will use her the entire voyage, an unaccustomed treat for them. When we are done I will clean her body just as their use will clean her mind."
He smiled cruelly and reached out to squeeze one of Penny's big breasts. "It is too bad you are not blonde," he said to her, "For you are a biddable girl with large teats. You would be more valuable as a blonde."
"I'm sorry, master," she said weakly.
Without warning he gripped my hair from behind and yanked me back hard, so my back slammed into the side of the cabin, then bent my head back over the top to arch my back.
He undid the little gold belt, then tugged the poncho-like shift up and over my head, throwing it over the side of the ship.
"No clothing, not to cover up your nakedness," he said, running his hand over my body.
He turned to Penny and yanked her down onto her knees.
"Eat her," he ordered.
I felt Penny moving between my legs, and a moment later her tongue pressed against my sex. I could not move if I wanted to, and I did not dare to want to. I stood there, legs apart, head pressed back onto the top of the low cabin, staring at the night sky as Penny's tongue lapped at my clitoris.
"The girl below pretends," the man said, his face close against mine, so close his bad breath was warm against my skin. "She pretends, she thinks she can fool me. She waits for her chance, when she thinks to escape, to return to her old life. Foolish girls. She will go on acting the part until, without even realizing it has happened, the part will become real."
My loins were throbbing lightly as Penny's tongue lapped at my clitoris. I felt the man's free hand cupping one of my breasts, pinching my nipple lightly, and my breasts throbbed in response.
"She is a blonde girl. Do you know why we prefer blondes?" he asked softly. "Nothing is more a natural whore than a blonde girl. They try to pretend otherwise, but this is a proven fact. Peel away her manners and her education and her sophistication and the girl down there is nothing but a raw animal whore. As are you."
I shuddered softly, wanting to deny it, but not daring to. And as Penny's tongue worked its magic on me my insides flowed like liquid metal, burning away at what pride still remained to me, and I began to grind myself against her.
"Whore," he whispered in slick, oily satisfaction. "You do not pretend like the other blonde girl. You know what you are."
I was breathing in short puffs and pants, eyes closed as my body burned, and I whimpered softly as he rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
"You are a sexual animal, a creature made to bring pleasure to men. This is why you will fetch so much on the block. Because you have the mind and heart and soul of a slave."
I came, my hips bucking helplessly into Penny's mouth as the man sneered down at me.
We were many days at sea, and saw little of Sara during that time. Late in the evenings she was half dragged back to our cabin and tossed onto her bed. Even from across the room with the porthole wide we could smell the raw sex, the sweat and semen that coated her bruised body. She lay dazed and exhausted, hair a tangled mass, plastered against her face and forehead by sweat and bodily fluids. Her legs were spread wide, and remained so as she stared silently up at the ceiling.
She never spoke, nor replied to our half-hearted attempts at conversations, and early in the mornings as the crew wakened, she was dragged off to please them once again. Later we discovered she spent her days on hands and knees with a scrub brush, washing the decks - and not incidentally, being mounted by any man who had a fleeting interest in her.
In the evenings she was in that room, the centrepiece of the mens' partying and celebration.
We were marched off the ship in the dark. By then she had been cleaned up but I saw little sign of defiance or anger in her dull eyes as we walked, single file, along an abandoned dock and into a low car. The air was warm, but I did not know where we were. It was a small, anonymous dock surrounded by hulking shadows.
The car drove us to a warehouse, and after a brief hesitation, drove into the opened door to park among a number of others there.
The warehouse was dark. There were two rows of benches in a square about ten feet wide. Two dozen people, almost all men, sat on the benches looking at the girl standing in the middle of the square. What light there was came from a spotlight above, trained only on the girl.
She was older than the three of us, and dark of hair, her skin showing a Mediterranean origin. She was nude, and in chains, slowly walking about the square, displaying her body for the men. There was something terribly cruel in the sight. She was so young and beautiful, her body sleek and glossy, and yet she was naked and helpless before a collection of what appeared to my eyes to consist largely of fat, older men, few of whom seemed very attractive or athletic.
She had a petite face, her eyes brown and downcast. Several times she stopped as a man to one side spoke rapidly - praising her body and lack of spirit, her desire to please and the value of her sexual abilities. Several times she stopped and turned, her young, athletic body
I was embarrassed for her, and fearful, knowing this awaited me as well. My mind screamed at the cruelty and indignity of it all.
She was sold, apparently, to a fat man with a white moustache. He stepped forward and slapped a collar around her throat, tugging it sharply, then led her off to one side. Our car door opened and the man with the goatee motioned Penny out. She gave me a final, terrified look, then hurriedly obeyed, following him to the benches, and stepping through an opening to take her place under the bright, cold light.
Again the auctioneer called out, describing her value. As had the girl before her she was made to pose for the watching men.
"Show them your tits, whore," Mr. Goatee ordered. "That's it. Now spread your legs more. Raise your ass better. Good. Now get down on all fours."
She crawled along before the benches, her big breasts jiggling as the men examined her. One called out a question and Mr. Goatee ordered her to crawl before him. He examined her, bending to squeeze her breasts, perhaps assuring himself they were real.
"Mooo," he said.
The other men around him chuckled or laughed.
"Moo like a cow, slut," Mr. Goatee ordered.
"Moooooo," Penny said in her high quivering voice. "Mooooo."
More of the men laughed, and the men before her slapped her on the backside and called something out. There were more calls from the surrounding men, and I realized they were making bids on her.
She looked so pathetic there, so terrified, and so ill-used. I felt a rising sense of outrage on her behalf. This poor, frightened girl who had harmed none, and did not deserve to be treated so... so cruelly, so barbarically, as a slave, an animal.
And yet even as my outrage glowed hotly that dark, wicked side of me was awakened, and I felt a sense of dark lust at her abuse, at the cruelty. In a sense, somewhere in my mind I had developed a link between wickedly sexual acts and arousal. The more outrageous the act the more forbidden, and the more forbidden the more wickedly exciting. And so as I watched poor Penny crawling about, this sweet young girl, being stared at and inspected and sneered at by these men, most of them old enough to be her father, I felt my mingled outrage and dark heat suffusing my body and mind, and knew a breathlessness as I realized I would soon be subject to the same cruel inspection.
She was sold, and led off on all fours with a collar around her throat. The car door opened and Mr. Goatee motioned me outside.
I stepped onto the rough stone gingerly, my heart pounding frantically as he took my arm and led me towards the other men. I felt my skin redden as I was led out into the square beneath the light, and fought to keep from visibly trembling. I blinked rapidly in the bright light, dropping my eyes down as I stood in place. I found myself wishing my wrists were still bound, for then I would have something to do with my hands, which kept trying to instinctively cover myself.
"Straighten your back," Mr. Goatee ordered.
I straightened up at once, but that meant raising my head, and I blushed furiously, feeling my skin crawl as I stood there under those piercing eyes.
"Start walking around, slut. Let them see your tits and ass."
I shuffled forward, feeling almost light-headed as I moved before the seated audience. It was all so very unreal, walking around naked! in front of all these people. I could hardly believe it wasn't some ghastly nightmare. One of the men reached out as I passed him and I halted at once, inhaling sharply as his fingers rubbed at my sparse pubic hair. It had been permitted to grow back in somewhat so that purchasers could be assured that I was a true blonde, yet it was far too short to offer any real protection to the eyes examining me.
He pulled his hand back and I resumed my slow walk as the man, the auctioneer, I suppose, called out what I supposed were things about me, but I heard the words as though from a great distance, with an odd echoing sensation, and can not now relate them. I recall the stir among the men, however, as my virginity was announced, and another man reached out to halt me. This time his finger pushed roughly into my pussy.
"Spread your legs, slut," Goatee ordered.
I opened my legs more as the man, a squinty eyed little black man, pushed his finger up my pussy to feel my hymen. He pulled it back and I shuffled forward again. Another man stopped me, a tall, thin Asian man, who looked extremely dignified in a tailored suit. He also slipped a long finger into me to check on my cherry, then turned me around with a hand on the hip and squeezed my bottom. He nodded and slapped my bottom, sending me on.
"Move to the middle of the square and stand with your hands behind your head," Goatee ordered.
I obeyed, and then turned slowly in a circle at another command, my feet well apart. I bent over at the waist, showing those behind me a view of my bottom and pussy, and then to my horror, Goatee ordered me to dance.
There was no music, of course, but I knew there was no command I could not obey, and knew that if I failed to do as he wished in front of all these men I would be severely punished. I frantically thought of the dance Mistress had said I did best, and tried to play the music in my mind.
I rolled my hips slowly and seductively, sliding my hands slowly up my body and then through my hair. I let my hands rise as my hips rolled and my head began to turn as my eyes slitted.
All those people watching!
Unable to breath, I turned slowly, straightening my right leg, half jumping forward onto my right foot and twirling, then letting my body undulate.
"Enough," Goatee ordered.
I halted, dazed. I stood still as the men bid for me, aware of the moisture on my face and forehead and between my breasts. The lights sparkled before my eyes, and for a long moment I wondered if I would faint.
The bidding went on for longer than it had for the previous girls, and I noted the last two involved were an older man holding a cane, and a young man, perhaps not so very much older than I. The older man had dark, flinty eyes which bespoke a cruel spirit. Yet the younger man seemed little better, eager and cocksure. Oddly, a woman sat beside him, an arm linked possessively, or perhaps, for protection, in his. She wore a large hat which hid her face in shadows, but she seemed young and attractive.
The young man won, and pumped his fist in the air in victory. The woman kissed him on the cheek and I saw bright, penetrating blue eyes turned upon me from beneath the hat. The man rose and went to the auctioneer, dealing out a large number of bills of unknown denomination. Then, face flushed, he came into the square. He grinned at me, but more as a man happily examining his newest toy.
He pulled my wrists together behind my back and shackled them in place. Then he pulled from his suit pocket a short chain. It was of odd sort, or so I first thought. I realized almost at once that it was parted near one end into two slightly thinner strands. Each strand ended in a clip and the man attached each clip to one of my gold nipple rings.
He moved back and tugged on the chain, pulling painfully hard against my nipples. My breasts stretched out and I gasped in pain, leaping forward to ease the pull as he laughed in delight. He led me out of the square, holding the leash high so that my nipples strained upwards, forcing me almost to walk on the tips of my toes, gasping and moaning in pain.
The woman rose and followed, appearing to be as happy as the man in their new possession, and giggled each time the man forced the chains to pull upwards and my body reacted.
"God, she's cute," the woman said in delight, her voice American.
"We're gonna have a helluva time with this little slut," the man boasted gladly.
They led me to a Mercedes, and the man unlocked the trunk. He forced a thick ball-gag into my mouth, then pushed me into the trunk, pulling my ankles up behind my back and fastening them, with a strap, to the shackles about my wrists. A moment later the hood was slammed down and I was in darkness.
I cannot say I was well pleased or impressed with my new master. He seemed brash, uncouth and entirely too shallow and self-absorbed, a great contrast to the confidence my earlier captors had displayed. Still, I consoled myself that if he were in fact, as inexperienced as he seemed, then perhaps I would have greater opportunity for escape.
Chapter Five
I could hear the growing sounds of traffic around us; car and truck engines, honking horns, and the babble of voices. Both my new master and my new mistress (or so I supposed her to be) had American accents, and I wondered if we were now in America. But I had no way, of course, to discover this from the boot of the car. After some time we turned in somewhere, the car slowed, and the sounds faded, to be replaced by the kind of echo one hears inside concrete garages.
We stopped briefly, then continued on, turned sharply, and stopped once again. Now I felt the car sway and the car doors slammed shut, and braced myself for what might come next.
The lid was lifted, and I looked up at the two of them, both beaming happily at their new possession. The man reached in and unfastened my ankles, then he pulled me out, setting my bare feet down upon the cold stone. We were indeed inside a garage, but in a small, private section separated from the greater garage by a metal door, the last foot of which came down even as I watched. The smaller inside garage held only a few sports cars, including the Mercedes.
"I should take the little slut right here," the man said cockily.
The woman, or perhaps, given her temperament, I should say, "girl", giggled, eyeing me with bright, excited eyes.
"Do it, Chad! Give it to her right here! She's supposed to be a virgin. Won't this be a great place to lose it, in a dirty fucking garage?!"
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