by Paul Blades
He turned and looked at the blond girl. Dismally, she realized that her turn had come. Her face was a mask of gloom. Klitzman waddled over to her. He reached over and stroked her blond hair almost tenderly. “Ah, what a pretty little girl,” he sad, his voice all syrupy. “I’ll bet that you can tell us all kinds of nice things, eh?”
The girl’s lips formed a grimace. She shifted nervously in her bonds. I expected her to pee again in her fear. The huge man placed his hands on her plump breasts and began to maul them. “What lovely playthings you have, my dear,” he said to her. He rolled the ample orbs around her chest, his vast hands making them appear small. The girl was barely keeping herself under control. At any moment, she would burst out into a fit of pleading and begging. She had a slender torso that broadened out into voluptuous hips. Her belly was flat and taut. Unlike Renate, whose features, although quite pleasing, had an aspect of hardness to them, her face was graceful, soft. Her lips were succulent, almost distorted in their fullness. Her blond hair was wispy, giving her an aura of extreme vulnerability. Klitzman took hold of the full, stiff nipples at the ends of her breasts and teased them until they were hard.
I had finished my scotch and would have appreciated a refill. Watching this tableau had fueled my lust. I had two willing females back at my cottage. They would have been delivered late that afternoon as per my standing instructions. But that flesh was there and this flesh was here. I surreptitiously gave my hardon a squeeze.
“So, pretty girl, what’s your name?” Klitzman finally asked her.
“C,cindy Jamison,” the girl got out fearfully.
“C,cindy,” Klitzman repeated. “What a lovely name. And where are you from, C,cindy?”
“Iowa,” the girl answered, her eyes pleading for mercy from the obese, cruel man who was mocking her fear.
“Iowa? Well, that’s nice. Are you cornfed, C,cindy?” Klitzman asked.
“Wha..?” the girl reacted. She was desperately trying to please her interlocutor, but he had thrown her a curve. I doubted that she had had any prior experience at being naked and trussed, kneeling with her legs spread, her sex exposed, while talking to a forbidding looking 350 lb. fat man who was manhandling her breasts.
“You know, like the cows?” Klitzman explained. His hands were still on her soft, malleable orbs. He was massaging them as if he was trying to milk them. “Well, you do have a bovine aspect, young lady. Your tits are big and plump like you were made to produce milk. Would you like us to make you into a moo cow, C,cindy?” he asked her. “We have drugs that could make you very productive. We’ll shave your head and put a big gold ring through your nose and make you crawl around on all fours. Men would be sucking your teats all day long just for a little taste of your sweet cream. Would you like that, C,cindy?”
Cindy’s face cringed in apprehensive misery at the suggestion. “N,no,” she answered. “Please don’t do that.” Her voice was strained and cracked, barely audible.
“Well, we’ll have to see,” Klitzman told her. “If you’re a good little whore, maybe we won’t. Will you be a good little whore, C,cindy?”
The blond girl’s eyes widened at the implications of Klitzman’s suggestion. She looked around at the callous men who were watching her humiliation. “Yes, C,cindy,” I thought. “You’ll have to fuck us all sooner or later. And more. Much, much more.” I had to admit that the prospect of access to her soft flesh was enticing.
Cindy moaned in fear and unhappiness. In one short day, she had gone from a bright, happy future as a zoologist, lucky enough to get an internship in Africa, working with a well renowned scientist, to a whore. More than a whore. I wondered if she realized how permanently her life had changed. How long would it take for any thoughts of deliverance from this warped dimension she had fallen into to fade away? Not long, I thought. As opposed to the more determined and potentially rebellious Renate. Despite her alacrity at sucking Klitzman’s cock, I sensed that Renate would carry her resentments at being converted into a fuck toy for a long time and that they would be would be hard for her to suppress. Cindy, however, was not made of sterner stuff.
Of course, Cindy was now already a whore, whether she agreed to it or not. But the formality of acknowledging that fact was a formidable barrier for her psyche. Having consented to a life of degradation without the necessity of even one whip having been put to her flesh would mark her indelibly. She could preserve her self respect or at least one small part of it if she refused, or she could succumb to her fear. She had seen how fiercely cruel the big man was. She had seen and heard the older woman, Judy, probably someone she had held in high esteem as a mentor and as a modern, educated, liberated woman, beg and plead for a surcease of her abuse. She had seen Renate pliantly service the fat man’s tool. What choice did she really have?
The girl pursed her lips in a dejected pout. Her eyes were tearing and her chin trembled. Klitzman waited patiently for her answer, kneading her mammaries, a cold, hard glare on his face.
“Y,yes,” the distraught girl finally mumbled.
“I can’t hear you, C,cindy,” Klitzman responded. “You’ll have to speak a little louder.”
“Yes! Yes!” the girl shouted. “Please don’t whip me, please!” she added miserably.
“We’ll see about that in a little while, my little whore,” Klitzman answered her. “Now tell me, how long have you worked for Dr. Svenberg?”
“Two weeks,” the girl replied. “Only two weeks. I don’t know anything, honest, please, please!”
Klitzman looked up at Nick and me, an amused, surprised expression on his face. “She doesn’t know anything, she says.” He looked over at Anthony and Rukimo who had been watching the spectacle with undisguised amusement. “That’s not very helpful,” he said.
“Not at all,” Rukimo answered.
The master criminal looked back at the unhappy blond girl. “Well, maybe you could entertain us a little then, C,cindy, since you don’t seem to have anything else we want. Okay?”
The girl was too frightened to respond. She looked over at the huge black man who had answered her tormentor, and the hard looking, brown robed man who sat next to him, smiling evilly. She looked over at me and Nick. The image of being ravished by the lot of us must have crossed her mind. “P,please,” she uttered dolefully as she looked back up at the mountainous man who stood before her. “P,please don’t make me,”
“Oh, we’re not going to fuck you, C,cindy. Not right now anyway. I had some other entertainment in mind.” Klitzman spoke to the tall, black robed, African guard. “Bring me the leather switch,” he said.
A look of alarm and panic spread across Cindy’s face. “Noooooooo!” she shouted. “Please don’t! Please! I’ll do anything you want! Please don’t whip me, please!”
Klitzman looked down at the bound girl kneeling before him. Her arched back presented her fluffy, delicate globes as an ideal target. Her clear, pale flesh on her belly and thighs were inviting.
“I think that’s enough talking,” Klitzman told her. He motioned for another guard who brought forth a leather gag. “Now open up, C,cindy, don’t make things worse for yourself.”
“Ohhhhhhh!” the girl moaned, trying to avoid the gag. “Pleeease! Pleeeeeease! Pleeeeeease!”
Klitzman’s voice abandoned his pretense at civility. “Open your mouth, cunt,” he roared at her. Meekly, her lips trembling, the girl complied, giving up all hopes at avoiding her fate. Klitzman shoved the gag in hard, making her head recoil, and attached it tightly behind her.
When she saw the guard deliver the instrument of her impending torture, the girl’s body began to shudder and squirm. But she was solidly affixed to the steel frame behind her. Klitzman swung the long, thin, leather whip behind his shoulder and brought it forwards. The whip made a ‘swish’ through the air and struck the girl’s breasts with a loud, ‘thwack!’ Her body stiffened and she released a pitiful scream from behind her gag. A long red line rose immediately on her flesh. Klitzman struck again, just across th
e top of her breasts. There was another muted scream and another angry, red trail of abused skin arose.
I didn’t count the number of times that Klitzman delivered fierce kisses of his whip to the girl’s body. It must have been at least twenty. She screamed and moaned and whined. From the tops of her breasts, to her lower thighs, she was covered with trails of abused flesh. Dotted red specks of blood oozed from some of them. She was suffering at the hands of a man who truly enjoyed inflicting pain. It was his métier, his raison d’être. His face glowed with the radiation of his lust for suffering. Out of breath, sweat dripping down his face, the evil man finally relented.
Klitzman caught his breath. “That was very nice, C,cindy,” he taunted the still recovering girl. “You put on a nice show. I think that lots of people are going to want to whip you. Maybe we’ll assign you to the whipping room. Would you like that?”
C,cindy had no idea what the whipping room was, but it didn’t sound so good to her. It was a small theatre with about thirty plush seats in it. Stadium seating, of course. Every hour on the hour, there was a show. A tall African guard would abuse the body of a beautiful female for a good half hour. You could sit back and watch at your leisure or, after the guard was done, you could get up and join the fun yourself. Cool, refreshing drinks were served by naked slave girls who would give you a blow job if you asked. Their skittishness derived from the fact that it was not unknown for one of them to be selected for the encore.
Klitzman looked over at Anthony and Rukimo, who usually made such decisions. They both seemed in agreement. I looked at the unfortunate, red striped girl. She was crying again, knowing that cruel fates awaited her. Klitzman resumed his seat at the center of the broad, semi-circular couch.
“Well, boys,” he said. “It was a very good day’s work and a very entertaining little sojourn here. Nick, you’re to be congratulated.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied. “But it was Harry who really saved the day. If it wasn’t for him, these sluts wouldn’t even be here.”
It was true. Renate and Cindy might still be hiding underneath their beds if I had left well enough alone when I saw them. Even Judy, the svelte scientist, might have eventually been ransomed by the bandits, who probably got more than their share of pussy out in the jungle and would be hungry for the means to buy weapons and booze.
“Well, Harry, you’ve rewarded my faith in you. How’d ya like to break in one of these young fillies tonight?” He had slipped into some kind of cowboy twang.
Mary and Carol were waiting for me back at the ranch. I was tired and dirty. Mostly, I wanted a quick blow job and some sleep. But one didn’t turn down gift horses from this desperado.
“My pleasure, Mr. Klitzman,” I replied.
“Then cut out a heifer and take her home. Which one do you hanker on?”
My preference was for the beautiful, voluptuous Cindy. I could just picture myself grazing on her grasslands.
“I’ll take the blonde,” I told him.
“Okie dokie,” the fat man replied. “But first we got to get her properly outfitted. How about you, Nick? Are you pining for some poontang?”
“I’d like to finish what I stared with the former Ms. Meyers, Mr. Klitzman, if that’s all right with you.”
Klitzman signaled to a guard who vanished for a few moments and returned with a box containing some of the accoutrements of slavery on Klitzman’s island. He and another guard first removed Cindy from her bindings. The girl slumped in their arms. They quickly outfitted her with a thick, leather slave collar and bracelets around her ankles and wrists. They pulled her back to her knees and affixed her wrists behind her back. The miserably unhappy Judy Meyers, or the woman who had been Judy Meyers, was next. The guards produced long, leather leashes and attached them to their collars. I stood and took command of Cindy’s and pulled her to her feet. Nick did the same with Judy.
Klitzman turned his eyes to the forlorn Renate. “It seems that you’re the odd cunt out, Renate. But it really isn’t fair that your friends have received a whipping and you haven’t. Why don’t you hang around a while and I’ll get around to it before you leave.”
Renate’s face turned ashen and she emitted a moan.
“Watch this, Harry,” Klitzman told me. He picked up some kind of handheld device from the couch and pressed a button. “Okay, slave girls, remove your hoods and take your positions.”
On the side of the room, twelve supine, hooded and naked slave girls sprang into action. In a trice they had removed their confining hoods and, after placing them in a neat pile, raced to assume a semi-circle in front of Klitzman’s couch, kneeling on their heels, their hands behind their heads. They were all strikingly beautiful females, well appointed breasts, graceful hips, luscious mouths. They looked at their master expectantly.
“I had a transmitter placed in the earpieces,” Klitzman advised me. “We’re working on something for all the girls. It’ll be a lot easier to control them.”
I gave a nod to the slaver’s enlightened use of technology. Cindy, the fearful, beautiful, naked, new slave girl was standing next to me expectantly. I took hold of her leash and led her from the room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WELCOME TO PARADISE
Roxanne’s heart dropped as she felt the jet make a wide, banked turn and begin its descent. She watched fearfully for signs of the awakening of the members of the band. But it was not until she felt the jolt of the wheels on the tarmac that they showed signs of life. Slaughter waked first and he let out a wild whoop of happiness. “We’re here boys!” he yelled. “Pussy heaven!”
The other band members came groggily awake. The noise too awoke the other females. Miriam strained at her bonds in fearful anticipation of the next chapter in their abuse. “Maybe now that we’re here, they’ll let us go,” she thought hopefully. But where were they? Were they in the Bahamas? Her arms and back ached and she had to pee. She was afraid that if she peed where she was bound, the men might make her lick it up, or beat her or something. She twisted her bound wrists in frustration and fear. She watched while the naked Slaughter trotted off to use the bathroom. The jet was rolling to a halt and the other men were getting dressed. Slaughter came out and the others lined up to take their turn.
Daphne was awake too and she twisted and turned in her bonds. She had fallen to her side in the night and was facing the wall, so she couldn’t see what was going on. Jana awoke to find Creeper tickling her exposed pussy. “Wake up, Jana,” he said. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” He laughed cruelly. “You’re going to find out where all those other girls have gone. In fact, you might even see a couple of them. You’re going to get the scoop. To bad you’ll never be able to tell anyone about it.”
When Slaughter returned from the bathroom he took a moment to contemplate the pretty, trussed up blond girl, Miriam. He had his cock in his hand and he gave it a couple of tugs. Miriam looked up at him pleadingly.
“Do you get horny in the mornings, slut?” he asked her. “I do. You wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?” He laughed. He knelt down in front of her and eased the sopping wet underwear from her mouth. His cock had hardened and he presented it to her lips.
“Please untie me,” she said despondently. “Please.”
Slaughter gave her a rough slap across the face. “No talking, fuckbucket!” he told her angrily. “Only sucking! Got it?”
Miriam whined at her abuse and nodded woefully, parting her lips to accept his meat.
“Don’t worry,” he told her as he pushed his cock to the back of her mouth. “I won’t take long.”
Miriam gagged and whined as the man sawed his thick, hard piece back and forth over her lips. Knowing that the sooner she got him off the sooner he would vacate it, she tried to keep her lips pursed around the shaft and to caress it with her tongue. She wondered miserably if he had washed himself after having had his cock up her ass. She doubted it and the thought that her wastes were still on the member that was in her mout
h made her stomach crawl.
“Come on, Slaughter,” Max called out to him. “Our car’s waiting outside.” Max had dressed as had Deke and Creeper. They stood around and watched the drummer take his pleasure with the girl.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah,” the rough musician called out, panting as he pounded his cock into the mouth of the unfortunate girl. “I’m almost there. I’m almost there.” He looked down at the young woman, admiring his piece as it drew back and forth over her plump lips. He figured that he needed a little help in getting over the top. Keeping one hand firmly planted in her tangled and messy blond hair, he placed his other hand on her bound wrists and pulled them further up her back. Miriam moaned loudly in pain as her shoulder muscles screamed in agony. The thrill of the woman’s pain and the vibration of her moan on his cock did it for him. As was his habit, he shoved his hard rod deep into her mouth. “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” he cried out as his manhood throbbed and spurted inside Miriam’s throat.
The girl felt like she was going to wretch and she made a soulful, “Gaaaaaaaaaaaa!” in protest. As she began to choke and gasp for air, Slaughter finally pulled his cock from her. He tapped her face and smiled at her. “Thanks, fuckbucket,” he said mockingly. He gathered the soaked panties from the floor and jammed it back into Miriam’s mouth. He got up from his knees and rapidly dressed.
Max was standing over Roxanne admiring her tits and her revealed sex. Roxanne looked back at him, her eyes begging for release. He stroked her head. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll see you again in a little while. We have a lot of fucking to do.”