They finally reached the library, where another youth stood guard. Six of the thirty-five members of the scout troop had survived the epidemic and were turning into pretty good sentries, with the promise of the two girls given to their barracks to serve them. The sentry opened the door and the rangers passed through.
The Colonel stood up from his desk as the women were dumped on the carpet. Seven more of the rangers were standing against the walls watching the new arrivals and anticipating the Colonel’s decision on their placement. From what they could see, the women looked like they were in good shape. Chances were they would either be put in the rangers’ or officers’ stables, and more than one of the men already had his eyes narrowed and felt heated stirrings at the thought of new flesh.
“Turn ‘em over and strip ‘em so we can see what we’ve got to work with. Why these girls are still running around by themselves out there, I’ll never figure out. Sometimes I think we’re the only group with the commitment to understand the dangers to them and to protect them.” The Colonel shook his head as his eyes began to glaze while the women were pushed onto their backs.
All three of them were pretty, with no scarring visible and a healthy amount of meat on their bones. “At least it looks like they’ve been able to keep themselves fed.” He watched as the men’s fingers almost quivered while buttons and zippers were undone. At last, the three girls were spread out naked before them. “I wonder who the hell branded them like that,” the Colonel asked no one in particular.
“It shouldn’t be a problem, Colonel. It’s just a large T on the redhead and that T with a smaller letter on the other one’s. Our mark should cover it all right if we line up the vertical bar on the T,” one of the rangers suggested.
The lodge brand was a Y and S for Yellowstone. “Well, whoever the inconsiderate bastard was, he sure as hell couldn’t manage to hang on to them and keep them safe,” the Colonel said. “Did they look like they still had it together?”
“Yes, Colonel. This one even argued with me about trying to bring them in.” He toed Emmy with his boot.
“Well, get them secured so we don’t have a scene when they wake up. I don’t need them making it all the way to our protection, and then hurting themselves. They have such a hard time accepting that they’re finally safe, and it isn’t like we ask for too much in return.” The Colonel took his seat behind the desk while several more of the rangers helped secure the collars, wrist and ankle cuffs. The wrists of the girls were linked behind their backs as first Betsy, then Emmy and Sabra, began to rouse.
The Colonel’s dark eyes still focused on the redhead. The officer’s were due one more girl, and he glanced up at his second in command and nodded towards her with his eyebrow arched. The ranger focused on the girl as she began to wake up. When her disoriented green eyes began to widen, he smiled at the captain.
Sabra’s head was throbbing and she tried to get her bearings. She had been in the woods, yes, and three men showed up. Her eyes widened and she studied her stomach, remembering she had been shot. There was no sign of a wound and she quickly looked over at her friends.
All three girls sat up, and Betsy’s eyes filled in defeat. “Betsy,” Sabra whispered. “We’ve gotten away before and we’ll do it again. Don’t you dare give up.”
Emmy was royally pissed off. “Oh hell no,” she seethed. “I did not drag my ass halfway across the mountain to have a group of souped-up macho jerks grab me again.”
The reaction from the ranger standing behind her was immediate, as he gripped the hair on the top of her head and pulled viciously. When Emmy opened her mouth to scream, he crammed a foam ball behind her lips, letting it expand so she could not push it out. She continued her muffled curses.
Betsy and Sabra shuddered and closed their lips. “Good. At least you are able to comprehend that much,” the man behind the desk said.
Sabra studied him. He was obviously the one in charge of this group of men, and she felt like groaning as she saw the same lustful fire in his eyes that Taylor had.
“Stand them up,” he ordered.
Sabra continued to watch him. This band of men had the leanness and strength she had noticed in the cowboys, and she decided it was definitely another side effect of the epidemic. The man behind the desk was probably in his mid to late thirties, but there was no sign of softening in his body and his eyes were calculating and shrewd.
“Brandon, we’re moving the redhead to the officers’ stables. Do your men want the other two? You said you were thinking about putting that dark haired one into general quarters.”
One of the rangers, the one who had spoken to them on the trail, walked around Emmy and Betsy. He pointed at Betsy. “We’ll definitely take her, but the other one is going to end up with her brains fried if she can’t learn to shut up.”
The Colonel replied, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I think we were lucky enough to save them while they still seem to have their wits about them, so they’ll realize what they need to do to avoid punishment and to stay protected.”
Sabra wanted to scream at the man. The only thing they needed protection from were the demented, over-sexed men. She already understood after her time with Taylor that the guys just did not seem to comprehend this. Even the men who recognized something had been altered in them assumed it was so they could take their rightful place in charge of the women.
Sabra whispered through clenched teeth, “Betsy, watch their eyes. Right before things got all crazy with the men last time, some of them were getting a twitch. I think whatever is inside of them is causing some kind of breakdown. They’re dangerous then, but it’s also our best chance to get away.”
“I don’t see any of them here that are doing that. They just have that same crazy sex look,” Betsy whispered back. “I’m going to try to play them against each other. Maybe I can get them fighting that way.”
“Fill Emmy in, but give it a couple of days. It looks like they’re planning on separating us, so let’s see if we can figure out some kind of routine,” Sabra suggested.
The Colonel was staring at Sabra, and she was nervous he had caught them talking. She sure as hell did not want a gag in her mouth, so she and Betsy stayed quiet.
“Get them to the stables for introduction,” the Colonel ordered.
The women were relieved to find that at least they were not going to be led on a leash. Of course, it was not necessary with one of the strong men walking in front of them and another walking closely behind. They were led out of the lodge through the back door to an actual stable.
For some reason, Sabra thought the term ‘stable’ was meant as a euphemism rather than a real horse stable. Once inside, they noticed there had been some changes made to the building.
There were younger men, teenagers probably, but with the enhancements of whatever was done to them building up muscle and sex drive, it was hard to tell. They were washing other tethered naked women or grooming them. Emmy gave her a, ‘What the fuck?’ look, and Sabra shrugged. None of the women seemed to have welts or bruises on them, so she took that as a positive sign.
When they entered the stable, they were in the large room where the women were being tended. Long rows to the left, straight ahead, and to the right, branched off the central area with stalls on either side of all three walkways’ lengths. Sabra stumbled a step when Emmy and Betsy were led across the room to the middle spoke and she was led to the right. She looked over her shoulder once and caught Betsy’s determined eyes.
She was walked to the end of the path where there was an equipment room of sorts. All of the horse gear had been removed and there was an array of various kinds of exercise equipment. A young man was sitting at a desk filling out forms, and he stood up as the two rangers approached with Sabra.
“I heard you brought three more in. Congratulations, sir.” The young man looked Sabra up and down and she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“It was a good rescue. Two went to rangers, and this on
e is filling the last officer’s slot,” the ranger replied with an obvious touch of pride in his voice.
“Stall three is ready.” The sentry looked slightly nervous. “I know we usually put the new ones in one or two, but they’re occupied with those two that needed a little correction. I wanted to keep an eye on them. I’ll make sure to watch out for this one, too,” he assured them.
“You do that. I think the Colonel’s got his eye on her, so we don’t need any mishaps.”
“Yes, sir.” The young man picked up a jailor’s ring of heavy keys and led them down the hall.
Sabra had tried to look into the other stalls they were passing, but the tops of the doors had been closed over with planks so that only a one-foot square was open, and she could not see anything. They stopped before the second door on the left, and the sentry fumbled through his keys until he found the one that fitted the lock. He looked up at her and then said to the ranger, “She’s quiet. That’s going to make things easier. I hate the ones that wail for two days.”
“I think her and her friends were getting tired of being scared out there by themselves. They know they’re going to be taken care of, here.”
Sabra wanted to kick the guy in the over inflated balls that seemed to rule the men’s thought processes. She silently followed them into the room. There was a chamber pot type thing in a corner and a cot with a thin pillow and blanket. That was it. Even the window to the outside had been boarded up.
“I’ll get her up next for grooming. I want her ready if the Colonel calls her for dinner.” The sentry and the two rangers left the stall, and Sabra heard the key turning in the lock.
Her hands were still tied behind her, but there was not anything to do in the small space anyway. After walking around for a few minutes, she lay down on the cot. She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew the door was being opened again.
One of the youths she recognized from the cleaning area at the front of the stables entered the room with the sentry. “She’s a quiet one, but don’t let your guard down. Make sure you get her set up right, because Allen says the Colonel might be requisitioning her. I think he’s finally tired of the blonde’s shit.”
The kid who was supposed to wash her, looked like he was about eighteen… on steroids. He stared into her green eyes and held up a little black box that was clipped with a chain to his belt. “This is a taser… do you remember what those are?”
This was too much. “Yes, you little shit, I remember what they are.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at the sentry. The sentry shrugged at him. “The rangers say she hasn’t given them any trouble.”
Sabra looked at the kid… his eye twitched. Already an idea was beginning to form. She calmed down and followed the kid down the hall with the sentry behind her. The kid with the taser walked in front of her, and Sabra began to realize how much the arrogant men had figured the women had been cowed.
Her lashed hands were attached to a chain rising up from the floor, and the front of her collar was secured to a thick beam in front of her. The sentry walked back up the row of stalls to his desk. Sabra looked down a row of six women and saw Betsy and Emmy standing on the end. Emmy’s gag was gone and both of them were soaking wet while their groomers were beginning to shampoo their hair.
Sabra felt the warm spray of water on her legs and focused on her groomer with the hose in his hand. “Close your eyes for a second,” he said. Sabra did as he asked, and the water soaked her hair and continued around her back. It actually felt pretty good. He shampooed her long hair and called down the line, “Who’s got the stuff for getting knots out?” Someone tossed him a bottle.
She was not crazy about the kid washing her breasts, pussy and ass, but what the hell? All in all, it was not a bad experience. Sabra saw the look of contentment on her friends’ faces, as well.
He did attach a leash to lead her outside and walk her around in the sun until her hair dried. They passed by Betsy and Emmy a few times, and when Sabra caught their eyes she blinked rapidly and nodded to her groomer. They understood, and Emmy managed to get it across that hers was doing the same thing.
After she was dried, she was taken back to her stall. The sentry said, “The Colonel has signed you out. I’ll give you one piece of advice… don’t piss him off.”
Sabra sat on the low cot and waited. Other than planning or fantasizing, there was absolutely nothing to do in the room, and she figured she would get bored out of her mind pretty quickly if she had to spend a lot of time in there.
The key to the door turned and the sentry ordered her to stand. Sabra followed him to the front of the stables where pairs of rangers were standing with pistols in their hands around three groups of women. She saw Emmy and Betsy in the middle group. The group on the far end had women that were older, maybe a little plainer, or not quite as sane as the women in the other two groups.
One of the rangers walked up to Sabra. “You have the honor of being requisitioned by the Colonel this evening. You will remain silent unless he asks for your acknowledgement. When he speaks to you, reply, ‘Yes, Colonel.’ You will kneel at his right side.” The man walked behind the women and ushered them towards the lodge.
When they got to the restaurant, Sabra saw that the tables were arranged in two long vertical rows with a table placed horizontally at the front, facing the other seats. She was led to the single table where the officers sat, and she scanned the twenty kneeling women until she spotted Emmy and Betsy beside two of the men that had captured them.
Betsy looked nervous, and Emmy still looked pissed off, but she was quiet. A hand dug into her shoulder, pushing her down and she looked into the glaring eyes of the ranger. Shit, she was supposed to kneel. Sabra glanced at the steak knife on the table as she sank to her knees. The chair next to her was empty and she had a quick thought that the Colonel might have been fortunate enough to have had a heart attack, or something. No such luck. Apparently, he just liked to be the last to arrive to make sure everyone noticed him. They were like a bunch of gorillas thumping their chests to prove who was the strongest.
There was a bowl set next to each man’s dish and after they filled their plate, they put some food into that as well. The Colonel surprised her by reaching a hand under her chin, and when he lifted her face their eyes met. Sabra knew her eyes held a mixture of anger and fear; his gaze was dark and piercing with the slight widening of arousal and anticipation of what the night would bring. After a moment, she realized he was expecting her to recognize and submit to his power… and that was something she could not force herself to pretend to do.
She continued to stare into his eyes until she saw the anger begin to shine back at her. He dropped her chin, and as he leaned over to place the bowl on the floor in front of her, he stroked the top of her head and whispered, “Do you know why I don’t let you use your hands to eat?” Without waiting for an answer he said, “It makes your tongue stronger and lengthens it when you have to reach for the food we provide for you.” He sat back up and conversed with the other rangers while he ate his dinner.
Sabra’s stomach knotted. She had not eaten since breakfast, and the rich venison stew assaulted her senses as much as the disgust at the thought that even by merely eating she was being trained to please the men. Hunger finally won out, and her tongue reached for some food.
While she ate, her mind worked at what she had learned about her new captivity. The Colonel was different to Taylor. Where Taylor had a weathered signs of living in the rural ranchland, with a lifetime of hard work etched into the tanned wrinkles around his eyes from squinting in the sun and calluses that had become a part of his strong hands, the Colonel had a fiercer internal strength with a handsome, dark, dangerous look and a body that seemed toned by sessions at a gym rather than by physical labor. He was smart… and that frightened her almost as much as his chemically altered physical and lustful nature.
When her bowl was empty she straightened, and the Colonel’s hand imme
diately stroked her head again. He picked up the bowl, poured in some water from the pitcher on the table and placed it back in front of her. “Finish that. I don’t want you becoming dehydrated. I have a busy night planned.”
Thoughts of Taylor’s tortures that she had almost been able to forget crashed through her mind, and the equally subdued passionate response from her sex pulsed distressingly as she lapped at the water. Why did she keep having those feelings? Could she really miss being with a man so much that her body would answer with need under these circumstances?
The meal ended and the Colonel rose to his feet. He hooked a finger under Sabra’s collar and pulled her up beside him.
Torturous Existence Page 7