Klitzman's Paradise (The Klitzman Stories)

by Paul Blades

  “So this is the reporter,” Rukimo said. Jana looked, amazed, at the bulky, fearsome African. Standing next to him was the man she knew as the Creeper. He looked somewhat different. Behind him were the crates. She was just in time to see the sides of the third crate released. She was startled to see the bound, frantic, young women inside.

  Creeper took her by the arm and brought her into a position where she could get a good look. “You see, Jana, that’s where they went. Surprise, surprise. You were right all along. I had a devil of a time in convincing your editor to assign you to get an interview with us, but it seems that he has a few indiscretions in his past and that, plus a little cash, smoothed the way. He’ll tell everyone that he got a phone call from you saying that you were taking a few days off and were flying off to the South Pacific with a new lover you had found. Your boyfriend will be very disappointed, but he’ll find someone new. Too bad the little tour boat that you’ll be taking will sink abut five miles out to sea. No bodies will be recovered. Especially not yours, since you’ll be here.”

  Jana’s mind reeled with the implications of the Creeper’s statement. She looked agog at the young women as the uniformed African men began to free them from their bonds in batches of four and lead them out onto the floor of the hanger. The girls were wobbly on their feet and most of them were crying. One actually tried to run away, but was caught before she got more than a few feet. Each weeping girl in turn was forced to strip by two of the uniformed men, there were about twenty or so about now, and they then had collars and bracelets affixed to heir bodies. Chains were run between their ankles. Instead of having their wrists bound behind them, they were fastened to the rings in the backs of their collars, raising their elbows high and making their breasts peak out. They were not outfitted with gags, but had large rubber balls thrust into their mouths, effectively silencing them, but allowing their faces to be inspected.

  Leaving the stunned Jana to stand in place, Creeper and Rukimo walked down the long line of females. They were all shapes and sizes, but all markedly attractive. Rukimo stopped here and there to admire a set of breasts, a particularly pretty face or especially graceful, taut bellies. “You can pick them, Reggie,” Rukimo said.

  “It’s not always easy when they’re all dressed up,” Creeper replied as they walked down the line of naked, frightened young women. “After all, they’re masters at disguising their defects. A little powder there, little padding there, a nice patterned design to masquerade a little plumpness. But I’ve been doing this for a while, although not on this scale, and I’ve developed a pretty good eye for the real thing.”

  Rukimo and the mass kidnapper were on their second pass by the girls. Rukimo stopped at a pretty, red headed girl. She was tall and thin, but had graceful lines and heavy breasts. He took hold of the ring in the front of her collar and pulled her from the line. “Turn around,” he ordered her. Fear welling up in her eyes, the girl obeyed, slowly turning herself until her back faced the cruel looking men.

  “Bend over,” Rukimo told her. She gave out a little whine and bent her body in half at the waist. “Spread your legs,” Rukimo ordered. The girl cautiously made her legs wider. Rukimo inserted his hand between her thighs and cupped her sex. He seemed to be making some kind of evaluation. The girl’s knees trembled as she endured the strange man’s hand on her naked pussy. Rukimo measured the plumpness of her pudenda. “Mmmmmmm,” he said. “Not bad.” He ordered her to stand up straight and to turn around again. He looked at her youthful face for a few moments and then stepped in front of a long haired brunette two girls down.

  “You,” he said, pointing at her. “Step out.”

  A frown broke out on her already unhappy face and she complied. She was somewhat short, about 5’3”. Her dark brown hair was thick, curly and long. She seemed younger than the first girl, who looked all of 22. Her eyes were pools of brown, her nose small, her lips thin. But she had a passionate look to her face. Rukimo put her through the same drill as the red headed girl. After a few moments with Rukimo’s experienced hand between her thighs, the girl moaned and her knees weakened. When he had her turned back facing towards him he turned to Creeper. “You don’t mind?” he asked. Rukimo could do anything he wanted anywhere within a thousand miles of this island and no one would stop him. If Reggie had brought his saintly sister with him and Rukimo wanted her, she would go. But Rukimo was polite, if nothing else.

  To Creeper, it matter not a whit what happened to the girls once they reached the island. He was getting paid $20,000 each. Today’s haul was $240,000 and when the Malaysian freighter delivered its goods, another cool million. All of the expenses had been underwritten by ‘k’.

  “Any one you want,” he replied. One of the guards brought Rukimo a leash and he attached it to the collar of the diminutive brown haired girl. Her knees visibly shook and tears floated down her eyes. The redhead was ordered back in the line.

  After the pretty, young, bound girls had all been made to pee on command, just as Jana and the three British girls had, a large black van pulled into the hanger and backed up to where the women were standing. One by one they were loaded in. They sat down on the rough commercial quality carpet and their waists were belted to the sides. There were six on one side and five on the other.

  “Got room for one more?” Creeper asked the men. When they signaled affirmatively, he stepped back to where they had left Jana and, grabbing her collar ring, brought her over to the van. She tried to resist being placed in the vehicle, but the men were much stronger than she was and she was soon mounted on the end, near the door.

  “I’ll see you in a little while, Jana,” Creeper said. Twelve pairs of forlorn eyes peered back at the skeevy, pale skinned man as he swung the doors shut. They sealed the women inside the dark, windowless rear of the van with a loud “thump”. Creeper and Rukimo, and an unhappy, naked, young, brown haired girl at the end of his leash, watched the van pull away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A LOVE FEST

  I escorted the new slave girl, Cindy, through the massive wooden doors that led from Klitzman’s domain to the resort. I held the leash close to her neck to discourage her from struggling. It was about 3 A.M. and the red brick pathways were virtually deserted. If it had been a busy time, I would have hooded the young, blond girl to save her from being overwhelmed by the sight of numerous naked slave girls scurrying about, crowds of men leading naked and bound young women behind them on their way to where they would fuck and abuse them.

  It didn’t take long for us to reach my cottage. When I came in, Carol and Mary were kneeling in the living room, their ankles affixed to rings in the floor, waiting for me expectantly. Mary was gagged, as per my standing instructions. The girls were glad to see me but blanched when they saw that I had another girl in tow.

  I figured that the girls had been locked to the floor for many hours and so the first order of business was to release them and allow them to relieve themselves. They both scurried happily away. I went to my room, towing Cindy behind me and threw off the camouflage fatigues that I had been wearing all day. When I turned to Cindy, she was wide eyed, knowing that she had been brought here by me so that I could “break her in.” I guess that she expected me to throw her down on the bed and rape her. Well, not yet.

  I desperately needed a shower. So did Cindy. Carol and Mary came into my room and knelt on the floor. They both eyed the lovely blond girl with undisguised hostility. Cindy stared back at them in horror. She was right to. This is what she was now destined to become, a subservient slave. It might take weeks of training down in Rukimo’s subterranean school for purloined females, but I doubted it. Cindy was tailor made for enslavement. She was timid, pliant and allergic to pain. I would soon see if she possessed the other indispensable ingredient, a deeply passionate nature. If she didn’t, and failed to learn to produce authentic passionate responses virtually on demand, she would soon find herself shipped off to an even worse fate than service on Klitzman’s island.

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��I’m going to take a shower,” I informed my pets. “Alone,” I emphasized. The girl’s eyes had lit up at the prospect of pleasing me and dimmed when they realized that I would deny them the opportunity. As I have said, it wasn’t that I was a Don Juan and could cast spells of enthrallment over pretty, young females. Pleasing me was the way to ensure, or at least maximize, the probability that I would keep them rather than send them off to harsher fates in exchange for other, fresh young bodies.

  “This is Cindy,” I informed them. “When I’m done, I want you to give her a thorough bath. Wash her hair and brush it nicely. Then you can bring her to me. And no talking,” I added. In spite of the general prohibition against slave girls communicating with each other, I knew that they were, in fact, terrible gossips and exchanged information at every opportunity. I didn’t want Carol loading up Cindy’s head with a lot of crap. She would find out what she needed to know soon enough.

  I turned to Cindy. “You will cooperate with my slaves. If you do not, you will be given a very severe beating. There’s no place here you can go, so don’t try and run away. From this moment, your only choices will be whether to minimize your suffering or not. Don’t be stupid.”

  Her eyes watering, Cindy nodded her willingness to be obedient. She had already had one lashing and I was sure that she was in no mood for another.

  Carol was eying the bright red stripes that covered the front of the young girl’s body. She looked at me with disapproval. I could see that Mary, too, was shocked at what she saw. I reassured them. “I didn’t do that.” Here I was, the conscienceless slaver, making sure that my slave girls kept their good opinion of me. I had brought slave girls back to my cottage for the purposes of whipping them, but I usually kept it within bounds. Just enough to spice up the fucking that would follow. Actual punishments, for instance of girls in the lounge that I managed who failed to come up to snuff, I usually did after hours in the lounge’s basement. It wasn’t that I didn’t want any witnesses. I just figured that the acts of discipline were between me and the girl.

  Carol and Mary’s eyes brightened at the news. I had been redeemed.

  “Is she new, master?” Carol asked me timidly. Slave girls are not permitted to initiate conversations, but Carol knew just how far she could push me. I took hold of Cindy’s arm and turned her around so that my pets could see that her ass was a blank slate. She did not yet bear the universal Klitzman brand on her buttocks, the red, cursive ‘k’.

  “Oh, master,” Carol said.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I replied. “She’s new today. Now take care of her like I asked. She’s probably thirsty and hungry too. Get her something to drink and some food. I’ll be out of the shower in a few minutes.”

  The effect of the hot water on my naked body was comforting. I had been through a lot that day, although not, admittedly, as much as the three women we had kidnapped, or Dr. Svenberg for that matter. But I had shot and killed six men. That wasn’t something that happened every day. Once, when two freelancers had tried to knock over one of Tony’s joints, I had happened to be sitting at the bar. I caught one in the head and he fell like a stone. The other guy turned and ran. I think I hit him in the shoulder or something since there was blood on the sidewalk outside. Later, Tony found out who he was and had him taken care of. The dead guy in the bar was wrapped in a tarp and dumped in the swamp somewhere. The bartender cleaned up the blood inside and washed down the sidewalk. But that was the closest I had ever come to a multiple killing. I had a vision of the surprised bandit to my right as I placed my Beretta against his temple and fired. Maybe he needed killing. He was certainly willing to chop me up into little pieces.

  But I had to add to my ledger the enslavement of the girls Renate and Cindy. I envisioned some angel in heaven leaning over a big book with my name on it and writing something down in the part where it said, “Shit That Harry Has To Pay For In Spades.” I imagined that section of the book being the biggest, covering many pages, with the section entitled “Good Things That Harry Did” being the smallest, probably just a few lines.

  I washed the sweat and the jungle mud off of me thoroughly. I noticed the numerous pink bumps denoting places where the mouse sized mosquitoes had lunched on me. I would have Carol administer some salve to them later.

  I emerged from my shower refreshed, but tired. I walked out of the bathroom toweling myself to find the three slave girls kneeling expectantly outside. It was a pretty picture. Three sets of near perfect breasts, each set different and with its own appeal. Three sets of widespread thighs, spread wide enough apart so that the pleasures between them could be readily seen. Three sets of pleasing, soft eyes, awaiting a simple command from me to satisfy my every whim.

  “Did you eat?” I asked Cindy. If she had, my pets had reinstalled her gag like good little slaves. The blond headed girl nodded affirmatively. “Okay,” I told my girls. “Give her a bath now. And don’t take too long about it.”

  “Yes, master,” Carol affirmed. Mary just nodded.

  My bathroom was sumptuous with both a shower and a large, sunken tub. There was plenty of room for the three girls to fit in it, as I knew from the times that I had them bathe with me. Mary and Carol jumped to their feet and assisted Cindy to hers. I watched them urge her into the bathroom and then I went into my bedroom.

  I threw the towel on the floor and went to the side table where I kept a bottle of scotch and some glasses. I poured myself a few fingers, neat this time, as the well preserved, smooth substance deserved, and I took a long gulp. I crawled up onto the bed and, after shoving a few pillows against it, leaned back. I downed the balance of my refreshment and, in a moment, I was asleep.

  I awoke about an hour later to a sweet voice intoning, “Master? Master?” It was Carol’s voice. I looked up and saw the three slave girls kneeling by the side of the bed. My pets had worked a transformation over Cindy. Her long blond hair was washed and brushed. Her face was bright and clean. Her body was pinkish from her bath and looked fresh and inviting. Either Carol or Mary had put makeup on her eyes. I kept a supply around so that the girls could refresh themselves. And, most amazing of all, Cindy had lost that patina of fear that had oozed from her when we had first arrived. I can’t say that she looked happy. Her eyes communicated her nervousness and apprehension. But somehow, she had been convinced to submit to the inevitable.

  My suspicion was that Carol had been very disobedient. Undoubtedly, she had spoken to the blond girl, extolling my virtues as a master, telling her of the benefits of pleasing me. Carol did have that look of the kid who had snuck a quarter from the offerings plate at church. Her eyes avoided looking directly at mine, although she had an unmistakable smile on her face. I placed my glass on the side table and told the three, pretty, young women to get up on the bed.

  My bed was large enough to hold a rugby team and we all fit there comfortably. I told Cindy to come closer to me and she edged her way over on her knees. She still wore her gag and her hands were still bound behind her. I removed the gag and slid it from her mouth. She had been adorned with bright red lipstick and her lips looked just like bright, ripe fruit. I took hold of her head with both of my hands and leaned forwards, placing my lips on hers. I urged her mouth open with my tongue and delved within.

  The girl’s body was trembling as I took her mouth. Slowly and gently, I mingled my tongue with hers. Her breath was sweet and my fires were beginning to light. After a moment, I sensed her body soften. Her lips melted and her tongue joined mine in its dance. I placed my hands on her soft, malleable breasts and stroked them, bringing a moan of pleasure to her lips. I reached around behind her and unclasped the bindings that held her wrists together. Leaning her over, I laid her down on the plush mattress. I slowly and tenderly brought her hands above her and affixed her wrists to the ring in the middle of the finely carved headboard of the bed. She gave a little start as she felt her hands being confined, but I stroked her worried face and kissed her luxuriant lips until I saw a relaxed acceptance in her eyes.
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  I took my time with the delicious flesh I had yearned to possess while she had been trussed and displayed at Klitzman’s. She was a totally different woman now. Her soft body squirmed with pleasure as I kissed her firm, fat nipples. I sucked at them gently until she moaned, cupping the breasts carefully, massaging them lovingly. I ran my hand down her well toned belly and over her thighs, gently pushing them apart. She spread her legs willingly and I took possession of her mons, rubbing the engorging labia with the palm of my hand.

  Mary and Carol were hovering over me, their hands softly caressing my back and shoulders. I whispered to Carol that she should remove Mary’s gag and that they should kiss each other. Carol smiled and soon her lips were locked on the lips of my black haired slave, the nipples of their naked breasts pressed together, imitating their kiss.

  I returned my attentions to the new slave girl. I tested her crevasse for moistness and, satisfied at her arousal, slid my fingers inside her, probing her inner sanctum, burying them deeply inside. The girl moaned with pleasure and raised her knees, spreading them widely. Her wrists pulled gently at her bonds and her eyes fluttered. I placed my finger atop her hardened bud of pleasure and she gave a gasp and her chest heaved, shaking her twin orbs enticingly. “Ohhhhhhhh!” she moaned as I worked her pleasure nub. Raising myself up, I kissed her nipples again, first one and then the other. I took my hand and gently pushed her knee down and I slid my thigh over hers.

  My cock was rigid with need. I could smell the girl’s arousal and the pungent odor fueled my lust. When I had placed myself between her legs, her eyes opened. I could see the sign of hesitation in them, sharing space with her passion. It was a moment of truth for the poor girl. She was about to receive her first slave fuck. Never before had anyone entered her other than by virtue of her own choice. After this moment, her tender slit would no longer be her own. It would belong to her masters and the admission ticket to her private place would be merely desire. Anyone who wanted her could have her; she could refuse entry to no one. I knew that she could not refuse me. She knew that. But it was the invitation of her lust that I sought. I wanted her body to desire me, to want completion, to crave my possession.