Klitzman's Predators Book One

by Paul Blades

  Diskare motioned for the guard to step closer to Audrey.

  The guard dangled the garrote from his hands. "And now, Miss Abrams, you must choose death or slavery. What is your choice?"

  Audrey looked up from her lap, "Oh, please don't do this. I've never hurt anyone. Why are you doing this? Please, please, don't hurt..."

  In the middle of her pleas Philippe passed the garrote once more around her throat. He pulled it tight with a smooth jerk, forcing Audrey's head back, deftly avoiding her hands.

  Audrey's eyes popped out as she grasped vainly at the cord of the garrote now around her neck. Her feet flayed wildly she tried to arch her back to reduce the pressure on her neck. Philippe pulled tighter for a moment and then relaxed slightly, causing the girl to sit back on the divan, her feet to the floor. She looked at Diskare in horror.

  "Now, my child, you must choose. If you fail to choose, I will permit Philippe to choose for you. And he has never failed to choose death. So now speak, what do you choose?"

  Audrey face was contorted with fear and despair. I could see that she was too frightened even to speak. Her lips moved but no sound came out. Her face was turning red.

  "Silence?" Diskare spoke to the quivering girl seated before him, his hand still buried in the other girl's sex. He signaled to Philippe, “Then kill her."

  Philippe paused for a moment, gathering himself to pull the ends of the garrote apart, to tighten the noose around the girl's throat. In just that instant, the girl found her voice. She screamed out, her voice strained by the wire around her throat, her face frantic. "Oh my god, no, please don't kill me! I don't want to die! I'll do anything, anything! I'll be your slave, anything, just please don't kill me, please!" Philippe continued his pause and looked at Diskare. Diskare smiled and motioned for him to loosen the garrote.

  "Ah, you have chosen. Good. Philippe, you may release her."

  Philippe, appearing somewhat disappointed, backed off from Audrey and removed the garrote once again. Audrey emerged, coughing and sputtering for breath. Her eyes were red and her face puffed up from crying. Tears cascaded down her face as she sat and sobbed in relief. She wasn't given long to rejoice.

  "Miss Abrams, you will kneel before me. Now!" Diskare's voice boomed like a cannon shot at the girl. She stiffened as if shot and then fell to her knees in front of Diskare, her dress spread out like the petals of a flower around her.

  "Kneel up straight. Arms at your side." The girl complied.

  Diskare pushed Maria off of his lap and to his side towards Carla. He edged forward on his chair and stared Audrey in the face, inches away. Between them on the floor lay the riding crop and whip and the collar Carla had removed from the armoire a short while ago.

  "You will now beg to be a slave! Beg, or Philippe will finish the job he started!"

  Audrey hesitated briefly, and then whispered quietly, her voice cracked with fear and sorrow, "Please let me be a slave. Please let me live. I want to live, please." The tears continued to flow.

  "You must beg, Miss Abrams. You must beg to be a slave. Now, or die." Diskare grabbed the girl's cheeks between his right hand.

  "I beg to be a slave. Please let me live. I beg you,

  please let me be a slave," she whined disconsolately

  Diskare smiled. The barracuda had his kill. "Harry, should we let this girl become a slave? What do you think?"

  "Well," I replied, "why don't you try her out? If she doesn't work out you can always kill her later. No?"

  "I think you're right, Harry. Don't you Carla?"

  "I think that's a splendid idea Mr. Diskare. In fact, I believe that she will be a very good slave. She's quite attractive and she has such a strong will to live. I think she'll train very well." The expert was talking.

  "Then it’s settled." Diskare squeezed the girl's face harder and glared into her face, his voice like a whip. "I accept you as a slave. As of this moment your body is not your body, your will is not your will. Your life is only borrowed from us, your masters. From this moment on you will obey and you will serve. Your hands, your breasts, your loins, they exist only to please those who own you and command you. Serve and obey, these are the words you must forge into your brain. You will do so silently and with relish. Any failure on your part to please, any hesitancy in obeying a command, no matter how painful or distasteful will be punished severely. Since your life is now ours, it is ours to end. Remember that. Do you understand?"

  The girl nodded her head, still held in Diskare's hand.

  "Good. Now let’s see what our new property looks like. You will stand and strip. First remove your blouse."

  Audrey jumped to her feet and began to unbutton her blouse. Her hands, however, were too shaky from her recent dance with Philippe to do the job. She looked in horror at Diskare as she fumbled.

  "Not a very good beginning, slave. Perhaps Maria should help you. Maria, strip this slave."

  Maria, who had been kneeling next to Carla, sprung to her feet and quickly unbuttoned Audrey's blouse. Beneath it, her breasts were wrapped in a thin, lacey bra which pushed the breasts up. Audrey had dropped her hands to her sides and Maria was able to reach around Audrey's back and disconnect the strap.

  For an instant, the two women stood front to front, Maria's naked breasts crushed against Audrey's. Then Maria slid the straps down Audrey's arms and pulled off the bra. She must have known her business since she then stepped away, behind Audrey, permitting us a free view of her breasts. I had been right. Her nipples and aureoles were pale, only slightly darker than her pale white skin. Pale, but large and fleshy, like silver dollars. Her nipples were hard, stiffened by fear. The breasts themselves were slightly more pale than her skin, showing the effects of years of bikini sunbathing. Well those tan marks would be gone soon. A bikini was considered overdressing around here.

  Diskare paused only to take in the sight of his new property. He was appraising her, the game over, the real stuff now to begin. Should he ship her off the Klitzman’s? Would she serve well here? Maybe a sale to a South American drug king? Well there was time for decisions like that later. First she would be trained and marked. She would taste the lash, have men enter her body at will, suffer hours or even days of painful confinement. She would learn to service women as well, both for the pleasure of the few queens of crime who favored this little resort and for Carla, a demanding mistress. From time to time, she would perform for her masters, pleasuring anther slave, or being pleasured for the delight of those who favored that taste. Her mouth would open to receive the members of those who deigned to possess it, licking and sucking with new found skill, a skill she would develop quickly or she would feel the painful consequences of failure. Perhaps she would be taught to dance, to flaunt her charms before those with the power to accept her invitations, unwilling as they may be. I was looking forward to it.

  Diskare motioned the girl to continue with her undressing. With a sob she unfastened the buttons of her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She stood before us in her panties, her light brown pubis peeking through the sides of her crotch. Her mound was full, presenting a slight but noticeable bulge above the vee of her legs. She was shaking.

  “The rest!” Diskare ordered. The girl looked up at him briefly and then around the room. The slave Maria stood there stoically awaiting a command. Carla sipped her drink and stared back at Audrey. I was entranced and more than excited as the bulge in my pants revealed. Audrey hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and pulled them down, stepping out of them and casting them aside.

  “There will be a punishment later for your slowness in obeying my commands. Do not err again.” Diskare’s voice was as cold as ice. The girl was sobbing.

  “Now lay down on the divan behind you, face up and spread your arms and legs.” Audrey jumped to obey, tears flowing down her cheeks. Diskare motioned to Philippe who stepped forward.

  “Philippe, please place the bracelets and collar on my new slave.” Philippe needed no second urging. He stepped forwar
d and collected the instruments of Audrey’s possession from the floor. Leaning over her body, kneeling between her legs, he first affixed the collar. It locked closed with a snap. The ankle bracelets were next and then, one by one, the wrists.

  “Now, slave, stand up and present yourself to your new masters.” Diskare ordered.

  Audrey sat up, her hands flying to her throat, her eyes staring, non-believing, at her leather cuffs. Remembering Diskare’s imprecations about obedience and pain, she leapt to her feet and rushed to stand before him. “W-what will happen now?” she managed to squeak out in a tiny voice, a stark contrast to her stern rapprochements of a few minutes before.

  “Slaves don’t act questions.” Diskare replied. “A second punishment.”

  Audrey squealed slightly as she realized her error. Oh, well, trial and error is sometimes the best teachers.

  “Maria, clip this slave’s wrists to the back of her collar.” Maria moved to obey instantly. When she had finished, Audrey stood before us, her chest jutted out, her breasts raised up invitingly, her arms behind her head.

  “Carla, I would like you to take this slave to the punishment room and administer ten lashes with a riding crop, front and back. She is then to be gagged and confined until this evening when we will have her marked. Mr. Delacourt will be here about nine o’clock. I’m sure he will enjoy the event. I would like to give him the pleasure of fucking her first so make sure that no one has access to her until then. Maria, Philippe has worked hard for us today. Escort him to your chamber and please him.” Maria nodded submissively. Phillip grinned.

  Carla was grinning too. She stepped forward and attached a leash to Audrey’s collar. Audrey flinched when she approached but offered no resistance. She could sense that Carla was one to be feared.

  “By the way slave,” Diskare remarked to the girl as she was being led away, “I have not decided on your new name yet. For now you will continue to answer to the name Audrey as I think it will amuse Mr. Delacourt. Tomorrow we may think of a new name for you. Harry, I’m feeling quite randy after this little episode. Let’s go down to the training rooms and select a little delight for ourselves.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Diskare,” I responded, “my pleasure.” I finished my lemonade as the new slave, temporarily called Audrey, was led swiftly from the room.

  PART TWO

  HARRY IN NEW YORK/MARA’S STORY

  CHAPTER ONE

  HARRY LEARNS THE ROPES

  I was sitting in the tiny kitchen of an Upper East Side New York City apartment, waiting as had been planned. I had gained entry easily with a key that had been made from a wax impression by one of Draco's people. It was a modern type apartment, clean, new rugs, stark, bright designs. The kind of place that money slept in. I had been there since about 9 p.m., biding my time, listening, waiting.

  I had spent a little over a week at Diskare’s resort. The beach had been pleasant, the women sublime. Audrey’s initiation into slavery was a memorable event. Diskare let Simon press the hot brand into her buttocks, completing her formal loss of human rights. She had begged and pleaded with him frantically not to do it, to set her free. She promised him everything she could think of, including signing over her deceased mother’s financial empire to him. Simon didn’t budge an inch or blink an eye. When he fucked her for the first time, I could see the pure enjoyment he got out of it and the wave of relief as his problem of what to do about her assuming control of the family companies withered away. I didn’t fuck Audrey that night, but I did have her suck me off the night before I left for the States. She wasn’t bad.

  Shortly after midnight, I heard a key in the lock. It was the girl. The lights came on in the room just as I slipped myself into the walk-in pantry closet. I could hear her high heels clicking loudly on the parquet floor of the kitchen. She must have walked right past me. I was ready to make my move if she opened the door, but she didn't and I listened to her footsteps click away and become silent as she stepped onto the carpet in the living area. I opened the closet door slowly. The lights of the kitchen had been turned out and I could see the lights of the bedroom down the hallway. I stepped quietly from my hiding place and walked slowly towards the bedroom.

  I felt in my pocket for the knockout agent Draco had given me and the cloth with which to cover her mouth. It was there and ready. The same motion which would suffice to bring out the cloth would release the agent as I squeezed down hard on the plastic ball inside with my gloved right hand. Whatever else I needed was in the small carrying case in my other hand. “Planning, caution, execution.” Those were Draco's words. Well the first part was over. The second was here, the third, coming up.

  I could hear the girl humming softly to herself in her bedroom as, presumably, she was undressing for bed. In a minute or two I would be able to hear the water running in the bathroom which would signal my entry into the bedroom. I knew the layout of the apartment well and knew that even if the bathroom door was open, she would not be able to see me as I entered the bedroom and took up my position. After a short while, I heard the water begin to run. She was washing her face, taking off her makeup. The next time she put it on would be for someone else's benefit, and certainly not without the approval of those who she was destined to serve. Her life was about to change.

  “Know your prey.” That was Draco's other pet phrase. Draco and I had picked out our prey after a week of careful stalking. We had had several leads from spotters who Draco kept on his payroll, but this one had panned out the best. She was young and beautiful. That went without saying. She would not have been brought to our attention otherwise. She lived alone and kept regular hours. Her building had an emergency staircase which led directly to the street. For the last three nights we had monitored her movements as she came home from work.

  Each night she would come home, eat dinner, watch the news and go back out. Every night she returned about midnight after attending her classes at City College and studying in the school library. This revealed enough about her to make Draco decide to pounce. Most importantly, however, Draco's data check had not revealed anything particularly important about her. She was just another 22 year old going to college at night for her MBA, and working during the days as an assistant market analyst for a national corporation. Just the type that made our country great: hard worker, clean liver, dull, dull, dull. Well, after tonight her life wouldn't be dull, not at all.

  I thought briefly about the things which were undoubtedly going to happen to this girl. A pang of guilt, yes. A loss of resolve, no. I had decided, weeks ago that whatever I had to do to bring down Klitzman, I would do. More than just the fate of some yuppie fortune builder was at stake. She was just a casualty in a war. A civilian casualty, sure, but since when did being a civilian exempt anyone from suffering in war. Not since Cain slew Able.

  Quickly but quietly I made my way into the bedroom. I could hear her splashing herself at the sink, still humming. What was that song, I couldn't make it out. An older tune, I should know it. As I heard her begin to brush her teeth, I positioned myself next to the doorway. I stayed far enough back that it would take her a step or two into the room to see me, even if she were looking, but close enough to grab her as soon as she passed over the threshold. I looked carefully round the room. I made sure that my reflection could not be seen as she came through the door. Her dress was laid carefully across the bed, her shoes together. Neat as a pin. She would probably have made a good executive, but would make a better slave.

  I knew her habits pretty much. Home at 12, then a little TV; in bed before lights out. I had listened to the bugs we had placed to find out what we could about her movements. I had spent about an hour that night removing them so that they wouldn't be here for anyone to find when her disappearance was noted. I had also packed a small bag of her clothes and typed a message on her computer to the effect that she had decided to take a few days off. A “friend” would call her in sick to her job in the morning. The day after being Saturday, and Monday a holiday, she wou
ldn't be missed until Tuesday or even Wednesday. By then she could be out of the country.

  Suddenly, the teeth brushing stopped and she turned off the water. I poised, waiting. She turned off the bathroom light and seconds later, walked through the door. As she passed me she was pulling off her chemise, her eyes covered, blinded. I stepped softly behind her, waiting for her to take the lacy undergarment off of her head. As I leapt towards her, she caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye. Too late.

  Grabbing the cloth in my right hand, I squeezed hard, flushing it with the knockout agent which had been stored in the plastic container. With my left arm I reached across her chest and pulled her towards me. I brought my right hand down across her face at the same time. I heard her gasp in surprise. A textbook reaction, and one which would guarantee the success of the chemical. I felt her move her arm upwards in preparation for a downwards jab. Someone had taught this girl some self defense. By the time she was ready to bring it down, though, she was out and collapsed in my arms.

  I held the cloth to her mouth for another few seconds to make sure and then dragged her body over to the bed. I let her down softly and pulled out a plastic bag from my pocket into which I jammed the cloth I had used. No use getting all fucked up on the fumes myself. I went to the window and pulled the blinds open and shut twice. My signal. I had made sure when I came in that the blinds were shut. No need for any ‘Rear Window’ heroes to call the cops.

  I regarded the girl on the bed. She was thin, shapely, her hair was a strawberry blond, short, in a flip. Her legs were long and firm, the kind that felt good wrapped around your back. I knew from our background check that she worked out at the local health club. One of Draco's people, a woman, had been able to gain access to the club the night the girl was there. The pictures she took in the locker room helped seal this girl's fate. Draco didn’t really appreciate going to the trouble of acquiring a girl unless he was sure it was worthwhile. The pictures had proven that, demonstrating her firm muscles, energetic body and pure, unblemished skin. All that working out would pay off all right, but not for her.