Tara just whimpered.
“A medical procedure that’s just about as old as mankind. The ancient Egyptians even used them. We will introduce warm soapy water into your colon by way of your anus, and then when you expel it, you’ll be all nice and clean inside. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“Oh god,” said Tara.
“Orderlies!” yelled the doctor, and the two men in blue uniforms and baseball hats came back into the room. “Flip her over, please.”
The two men unstrapped her and turned her over. The table seemed designed to accommodate people face-down as well as face-up; the bonds fit both ways.
She whimpered as the men strapped her firmly into place, and she was laying on her aching breasts with her ass in the air now, her legs spread.
“Please visually examine the patient’s asshole, nurse.”
Tara couldn’t see what was happening, but she felt so exposed and helpless she let out another sob.
“Looks perfect, doctor,” said the nurse. “A beautiful healthy little asshole, not so much as a hair visible.”
“Go ahead and clean the patient’s anus, nurse.”
Tara felt the warm rag move over her buttocks and then over her asshole, gently. She gasped and let out a moan of pleasure.
“I think she likes it, doctor,” said the nurse.
“Go ahead and orally stimulate the patient’s anus, nurse.”
Tara heard the nurse let out an eager sound and then she felt hot breath on her ass and then something very warm and very wet touch her asshole – the nurse’s hot probing tongue.
“Oh my god,” moaned Tara, squirming with pleasure. She’d never felt anything like that before.
The tongue disappeared, and Tara was aware she was panting again.
“All right, Tara, I’m going to manually check your asshole now,” said the doctor, and she heard the now–familiar sound of lubricant squishing onto latex. “All right, Tara?”
“Yes,” said Tara softly.
“I can’t hear you,” said the doctor.
“Yes, it’s okay for you to stick your finger in my asshole.”
She felt something cold and slimy touch her anus, felt her sphincter contract. She let out a moan of combined humiliation and arousal.
“Ready, Tara?” asked the doctor.
“Yes, I’m ready,” said Tara, sniffling her tears.
“Ready for me to put my finger in your asshole?”
“Yes, I’m ready for you to put your finger in my ass … ohhhhhhhHHHHHH!” Tara cried out as the cold latex-clad finger forced its way past her sphincter and inside of her. Her hips bucked towards the finger, involuntarily.
“There there. Calm down,” said the doctor. “It’s going all the way in.”
She felt the finger slide all the way into her anus, felt it gently moving, stoking her insides.
“Oh, god!” murmured Tara.
“Feels good, little whore? You like it in your asshole, I can see that.”
“Oh, god, it’s … mmmm … it’s uncomfortable but … ”
“It’ll take a little getting used to,” said the doctor, and withdrew his finger.
Tara let out a breath of relief tinged with disappointment. Her anus felt slimy with lubricant now.
She heard the snap of latex gloves being removed and then another pair being put on.
“Now … let’s see. What kind of nozzle should we use, nurse? I’d like your opinion.”
“Well, I suppose the bigger, the better, doctor,” said the nurse.
“This kind has a small balloon that inflates to ensure that there is no leakage,” said the doctor.
“I think that will be perfect, doctor,” said the nurse, and Tara heard moist noises. Were they kissing?
Then she felt something cold and hard touch her asshole, and she screamed.
“Oh, what’s the matter, Tara? Do you want to go home? Please, if that’s the case, then just say mercy,” said the doctor.
“No!” said Tara. “I don’t want to say mercy, I don’t want to stop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m sure!”
The doctor chuckled and Tara cried, “Oh, god!” as something large and cold began forcing its way slowly into her anus.
“There, there … just relax …”
Tara writhed and moaned as it worked its way fully inside her.
“There we go,” said the doctor, and she heard a click, and the thing in her anus expanded inside of her.
“OOOHHHHOOOOHHHHHHWWWWWWW,” cried Tara. “Oh god!”
“Does it hurt?”
“No … it’s just … uncomfortable, I’ve never felt anything … ahh, ah, ah, ahhh, ahhhhh, OWWWWW,” she cried, as she felt the water flowing inside of her.
“That’s it … now … just going to put this bedpan under you … okay now, hold the water as long as you can, little whore.” The doctor’s voice was strained; Tara could hear the unmistakable sound of the nurse sucking his cock, back behind her, as he administered the enema.
Finally the flow stopped, and the doctor said, “And now I’m just going to put this little vibrator against your clit.”
“Oh god,” moaned Tara as the small vibrating device wedged between her pussy lips, making her gasp with pleasure as it touched her clit.
Tara was panting and shaking now at the pressure in her colon, but she couldn’t deny that again she was very hot and beginning to feel orgasmic. The vibrator was setting her whole body trembling; it was such an intensely enjoyable experience, it was almost too much – like being tickled. Her breathing was so fast that she began to feel like she was going to hyperventilate.
“Hold it for a full two minutes,” said the doctor breathlessly, and the noises of the nurse sucking his cock intensified.
The vibrator buzzed beneath her, sending waves of pleasure through her clit and through her whole body, and Tara moaned and writhed against her bonds, rubbing her breasts on the table, holding her ass clenched.
Finally Tara released the enema into the bedpan, and she had a massive orgasm at the same time, her whole body turning scarlet and convulsing, and she heard the doctor crying out as he came as well.
* * *
Miles away, Tara’s stepfather Derek walked into the offices of the private investigator without knocking. The secretary nodded and said, “He’s expecting you, sir, go on in.”
The investigator stood up and shook hands with him. “Hey Derek. Long time.”
“Hey Richard. Yeah, nice to see you again too. I wish it could be under more pleasant circumstances.”
“The last time wasn’t too pleasant either. Fucking Afghanistan. But what can I do for you? What’s the problem?”
“My daughter has run away,” said Derek. “I need to find her as soon as possible.”
“Well, first step is usually to track her phone.”
“That’s how I know she ran away. She said she was going on a school trip, and I checked it this afternoon, I have an app on my phone to show me where her phone is, and I found it was stationary just a few miles outside of town. I drove out to where it was and I found it on the side of the road.” He produced the phone. “Look at it. It’s covered with tape.”
Richard examined it thoughtfully. “Very strange.”
Derek paced back and forth, running a hand through his dark hair, scowling. “And I called the hotel where they’re supposed to be staying and she’s not there. I called several of her friends and they don’t know anything. Or they claim they don’t know anything. I want you to examine that phone, call records, texts, everything. You can get access to her email accounts, right?”
“Yeah, I can. You know I can.”
“And you can find texts that have been deleted, right?”
“Yeah, I can,” said the investigator. “You’d be amazed how easy it is, in fact.”
“Can you get on it immediately? Price is no object.”
The man took the phone. “You know I’m the best and you know I can do
it,” he said. “And you know I owe you one.”
Derek nodded. “Right.”
* * *
After the doctor and nurse were finished with her, they moved her into another room and locked her in – after giving her a blue hospital dressing gown to wear. This room was like a small hotel room, with an attached bath and shower and a comfortable bed with pillows and a blanket. A carton of yogurt and a banana was on a small table, as well as another bottle of mineral water.
She lay down, still shaking and exhausted from the orgasms.
Finally she ate the banana and the yogurt and drank some water and climbed into the bed, her mind and body completely overwhelmed.
Before she could go to sleep, Christopher came into the room. She was again struck how kind his eyes and smile were, and how warm his voice was compared to the doctor.
“You did very well today, Tara,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said weakly.
“No thought of quitting?”
She shook her head. “None.”
“How do you feel about everything that happened today?”
She hesitated. “It … made me feel ways I’d never felt before.”
He nodded and looked into her eyes and she looked back fearlessly.
“All right. Get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow you turn into somebody else,” he said.
DAY TWO: SHAVED
When Tara woke up, it took her a moment to remember where she was.
It certainly wasn’t her own bedroom. That unremarkable room in an unremarkable suburb in which she had never been safe from the demands of her stepfather, Derek.
The events of the previous day came rushing back to her so suddenly that she almost gasped, and her heart began pounding. The contract. The agreement: three days of BDSM, after which she would receive a new identity and a new life.
And Christopher … the mysterious, beautiful leader of this mysterious group.
Then the first day of it. Pissing herself on command, she remembered, feeling her face grow hot at the thought of it. Then the molestation by the men dressed as paramedics. The doctor and nurse. Her first orgasm. Her first enema, and her second orgasm.
She got up out of bed, still wearing the hospital gown she’d been given, and was surprised to find an elaborate white dress, with bare shoulders, a v-back and a long skirt – sort of a prom dress, she thought, maybe even a wedding dress for a less conservative type of wedding. It had been hung on the wall while she slept, she supposed, and again her vulnerability made her shiver.
And a pair of white lace panties, a white strapless push-up bra, and a pair of thigh-high white stockings.
She felt a little thrill rush through her at the thought of wearing it. She remembered her stepfather’s particular punishment of only buying her the cheapest, plainest underwear.
Then, as she headed for the shower, she wondered what they’d be doing to her today.
After Tara finished her shower, she was rather pleased to find Christopher waiting for her sitting in the room’s one chair.
“Good morning,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” she said, feeling a bit self-conscious about him seeing her wearing nothing but a towel, but then deciding that was, under the circumstances, rather ridiculous.
“Here’s a protein smoothie for breakfast,” he said, pushing forward a thick pink shake in a tall plastic glass. “Have to keep your strength up.”
She drank some of it.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“My god, I slept like a rock. I was totally exhausted.”
He smiled. “Yes, it’s exhausting. Mentally and physically. Your first orgasms, hmmm?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. Only two more days. Have you had any change of heart? Are you still committed to seeing this through?”
She felt a sudden uncertainty, a sudden fear. What would stop them from keeping her here? What would stop them from not giving her anything, when they were done with her? Not much.
The idea had come from a close friend, who told Tara she had heard of this arrangement working out with a cousin; the cousin had an abusive boyfriend, well-connected at the city government level. Legal means of getting away from him had been exhausted, but this group enabled her to disappear, starting a new life in Europe.
Tara had found Christopher’s name on a Deep Web site, and there were only positive comments from people regarding his organization. But it was a totally criminal, completely underground enterprise …
But then Tara though again of what she had discovered in the basement of their suburban home, and turned her mind back to the day in front of her.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m going to do this.”
“Good,” he said, “I’m glad you’re not afraid.”
She hesitated and then said, “I didn’t say I wasn’t afraid.”
* * *
It was no problem at all for Tara’s stepfather Derek to kidnap her friend Peter.
Derek had been a Special Forces operative in Afghanistan and he had worked in more than one “black bag” rendition of various insurgents and wanted terrorists. Kidnapping a kid off the street in a major US city was different only in a few details.
The private investigator Derek had hired – a former intelligence agent named Richard -- had worked most of the night doing a thorough forensic examination of Tara’s phone and computer, and had only managed to find a few deleted e-mail messages with some cryptic references to a meeting with somebody named Christopher. The return IP address on the messages was some place in China, so it had probably been re-routed to hide its origin.
Richard’s company had subcontracted installation of the city’s traffic cameras, however, and thus he easily hacked into them around Tara’s school and found footage of her leaving the parking lot of the school with a guy in a new-model Mustang, which Derek immediately knew belonged to her friend Peter.
Peter was a couple years older than his 18-year-old daughter, and had graduated the year previously. He was a college student now, and he lived by himself in an apartment near the college.
Derek had never liked the kid much, but he was harmless and effeminate and probably gay so he’d allowed his daughter to hang around with him, going to a few musical shows and a couple of dance recitals.
He set himself up near Peter’s car, in the parking lot of the cheap apartment complex which had no security at all, except for cameras also installed by Richard’s company. Richard arranged for the cameras to have some technical difficulties.
Derek had called the kid at 7:00am, identifying himself as a police officer and saying that his friend Tara has been found dead and he needed to come down to answer some questions. The kid had come rushing out of the apartment about fifteen minutes later, clearly frantic.
When the kid came out to his car, Derek went up behind him, locked his forearm around the kid’s skinny neck and choked him unconscious, then tossed him in the trunk of the car. There was a pillowcase in there already, which Richard quickly slipped over the kid’s head. He then zip-tied the kid’s hands and feet.
It hadn’t taken five minutes, and nobody had seen. Nobody got up that early at that particular complex.
Derek drove off, pleased with his abilities, Tara’s best friend unconscious in the trunk.
* * *
Christopher oversaw Tara putting on the prom dress – she was hesitant for only a moment about being naked in front of him, but then remembered that he had watched everything that had happened to her yesterday.
He also oversaw her doing her hair up in an elaborate pile on top of her head and helped her with her make-up.
“You’re pretty enough, you don’t need make-up, but … nothing subtle today,” he advised. “Lots of lipstick, and lots of eyeshadow.” He helped her outline her lips.
“You seem to know a lot about makeup and hair,” she said.
“My brother was a drag queen,” he said, somewhat absently.
“Really?”
“Yes. He’s … gone now, unfortunately.” Christopher’s eyes went downward and Tara knew she shouldn’t talk more about this subject.
“How … long have you been doing this?” she asked Christopher.
He smiled. “A few years. As close as I can tell, we’ve had nearly complete customer satisfaction.”
“I mean, this … BDSM, all this stuff.”
“Most of my life,” he said, smiling thinly. She again felt she shouldn’t pry, not at the moment.
“This person … the person whose identity I’m taking … Shade. She was special to you, wasn’t she?” Tara asked.
He looked at her, smiling a little. “How did you know that?”
“Your face, your eyes, really change when you mentioned her.”
He frowned, looked down for a second, and then said, “I’ll talk to you more tomorrow. Or tonight. If you make it through day two. Okay, you look beautiful. One last thing,” he said, and handed her a blindfold.
* * *
Derek drove about forty-five minutes out of the city, to a place he liked to fish, on a 40-acre tract of land owned by a friend of his. He knew nobody would bother them there.
The kid had started to kick a bit, about twenty minutes into the drive, but then he’d stopped. He was presumably scared shitless, anyway. Too stupid to even know about the inside latch in the trunk on modern cars, Derek figured, but he’d disabled it just in case.
After he parked, Derek drew his gun, a .40 Smith and Wesson automatic. Just in case. He didn’t expect the kid to put up a fight, but occasionally they surprised you.
When he opened the trunk, the kid began babbling and screaming, his screams muffled a bit by the pillowcase but not too much. While Derek considered that a positive development, in terms of getting information, it angered him that the kid was so weak and … girly. Actually he supposed girly wasn’t the right word; he’d interrogated plenty of tough girls.
Including his daughter.
He slapped the kid on his pillow-case-covered face, and holstered his gun again while he dragged the kid out of the trunk and tossed him on the ground.
Three Days a Slave: The Complete Novel Page 3