Klitzman's Empire (The Klitzman Stories Book 2)

by Paul Blades

  I looked at Thorndike and at the 9 millimeter in Cholo’s hand. All he had to do was shoot me in the legs and, between the three of them, Cholo, the African and Thorndike, they could easily toss me over the side. My own blood would draw the sharks. I looked back at Thorndike. “I won’t do it,” I said.

  Thorndike looked at me an ironic smile on his face. “I’d tell you that it’s you or her, Harry, but I’d be lying. It’ll be you and her. You sure you want that? She’s going over the side one way or the other,” he said.

  “I’m not doing it. That’s all there is,” I said.

  There was a moment of complete silence in the boat. I could hear the steady rumble of the idling engine, the sound of water slapping the sides of the gently rocking boat. I felt a huge lump in my throat. I measured the distance between me and Cholo. He’d get at least one round off, but I might get him. I looked at Thorndike. “Or should I just grab him and take him with me?” I thought.

  The silence thickened. I decided to go for Cholo. If I got the gun, well maybe I could get them all. Or he might kill me with his shot and my troubles would be over. I was about to jump when I heard Thorndike break into laughter.

  “You’ve got balls, Harry!” he said. “I’ll say that for you.”

  I looked over at Cholo. He was grinning a grin as wide as his face. “No shit, Harry,” he said. “Machismo, you know what I mean?” He began to laugh too. I looked at the tall African. His mouth was a gleam of white as he bared his teeth in a shit eating grin. The girl looked around frantically. “Were these men mad?’ I imagined her thinking.

  All of the tension went out of my body at once. My hands were trembling. “Gimme a beer,” I said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE WHEEL TURNS

  The boat ride back from the scene of Morianos’ demise was long and agonizing. I had never seen a man eaten by sharks before and my stomach was still turning. Not only that, I had thought myself about an inch away from death, and my nerves were still on edge. I stared at the churning water behind the boat as it sped back to the island. My mind kept seeing Morianos’ helpless form bob and jerk in a soup of his own blood. Thorndike and Cholo were taking turns with Lois below decks. I could hear her screams of pain over the roar of the outboard motor as they tormented her. I wondered whether she was sorry that I had not let her join Morianos in his wrestling match with the sharks.

  When we pulled up to the dock, Rukimo was waiting there with the four by four. He smiled broadly when he saw me. “Harry, so good to see you,” he said, grinning.

  “Likewise,” I said as I pulled myself up into the front passenger seat. The tall African who had been our pilot came dragging a hooded Lois behind him on a leash. I could see the marks of the whip that had been laid on her by Gog and Magog. I was getting gladder and gladder that I had broken Thorndike’s nose. The nude girl was assisted in climbing into the vehicle. Her hands were still locked behind her and all that was needed to secure her was the seat belt.

  The pair of nee’r-do-wells, Thorndike and Cholo, must have had their own transport back to the resort, as Rukimo sped away without waiting for them. I didn’t feel like talking much, but Rukimo was insistent. From his banter, I assumed that either Thorndike or Cholo had reported to him via the ship to shore radio or by cell phone.

  “You’re one of us, now, Harry,” he said as he guided the utility vehicle along the narrow, curving road that led away from the docks. “You showed real nerve out there.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Or maybe I’m just stupid,” I said.

  “Oh, no, Harry. Not stupid. People think that to flourish in our business you have to be unscrupulous. But it really takes a firm code of honor to be a successful criminal. Those that live without one, like our friend Morianos, often end up prematurely dead.”

  I looked at the huge, dark African. “And if I had tossed the girl overboard?” I asked.

  “Well,” he replied, “let’s just say that you would not have prospered. We would have found a place for you, somewhere, but it would have been something really dead end. But now we know that you can be trusted, that you’re a man to rely on. That means a lot to Mr. Klitzman.”

  “Klitzman, Klitzman, Klitzman,” I said exasperated. “Does the guy really exist, or is he some bogeyman to frighten the little girls with?”

  “Oh, Harry,” Rukimo said, a serious mien on his face, “he’s real all right. I think you’ll find that out very soon.”

  The rest of the drive was uneventful. Rukimo drove through the heavy steel gates and was waived through by a guard. He pulled up just beyond the welcome hut where I had spent my first evening. I stepped out of the car.

  “Take the slut with you, Harry,” Rukimo said. “I’m sure that she’ll be willing to show you her deepest appreciation for saving her life.” The black man laughed.

  I considered the naked young woman in the back seat. “Why not,” I thought. I grabbed her leash and pulled her from the vehicle. When she stepped free, Rukimo sped away.

  I took Lois in tow and led her down the red brick path towards my dorm room. I had drunk two thirds of a six pack of beer on the ride back from the murder of Morianos without any effect and I yearned to shoot back something with a real kick. When I entered my room, the girl Patricia was there, kneeling in her slave position, her arms resting on her thighs, palms upturned. She smiled when she saw me and then frowned when she saw the woman I was towing. I unfastened the leash and unlocked Lois’ arms from behind her. I removed the hood and the attached gag. Lois’ eyes darted around the room with fear. “Get her cleaned up,” I ordered Patricia.

  Reluctantly, Patricia led Lois into the bathroom. I heard the water running in the tub as I cracked open a bottle of 24 year old scotch and poured myself a long pull. I shot it back quickly and poured another. I heard the echo of a deep, heartfelt sobbing coming out of the bathroom. I entered to see Patricia hugging the forlorn Lois, their naked bodies pressed against each other. Lois’s body shook with her sobs. Patricia looked up at me, anger in her eyes. “What did you do to her, master?” she said, her voice hard with anger. Most decidedly unslave-like behavior.

  Before I had time to answer, Lois raised her head, interrupting her tears. “No, it’s not like that!” she exclaimed. “They wanted him to throw me to the sharks, and he wouldn’t do it!” Her voice quavered as she spoke. She resumed crying.

  Patricia looked up at me with new respect. “Is this true, master?” she asked. The black haired girl’s eyes were wide with what bordered on astonishment. Why would I care about a slave girl, she was asking herself. When word got out, my stock would go up another notch with the slave staff. I could expect some really good blow jobs.

  “Just get her cleaned up and bring her into the bedroom, slave,” I replied as coldly as I could manage. I didn’t want Patricia to get the wrong idea.

  She smiled at me, a glint of light in her eyes. “Yes, master,” she said.

  I returned to the bedroom to polish off another glass of scotch. I held my hand out to measure my recovery from my near death experience. My hand was still shaking. I threw off my robe and dropped myself on the bed.

  The scotch was just starting to reach my brain. “What the fuck am I doing here?” I thought. “I must have been out of my fucking mind!” I wrapped my arms over my face and closed my eyes. I was living under almost constant fear of a cruel and merciless death. No one had contacted me since I had been sprung from prison. There seemed no hope that anyone would. And what if they did? What the fuck would I do then? Any step I took was fraught with peril. “What the fuck am I doing here?” I repeated in my mind.

  I must have drifted off, because the next time I looked up, two enticingly beautiful women were kneeling at the foot of my bed. Their faces were expectant. Lois’s short blond hair had been dried. Her pleasantly formed breasts seemed to quiver as she watched me, awaiting my command. Patricia’s eyes held that mischievous spark that had attracted me to her in the first place. It was she who spoke up.


  “May we pleasure you, master?” she asked, her voice sultry and inviting. I looked at Lois and saw the eagerness in her eyes. I nodded my assent.

  The two lithesome women jumped up on to the bed. They stretched their naked bodies along mine. I could feel their heat as they pressed their breasts against me. Two pairs of lips rubbed against my neck as two hands descended down from my chest, across my stomach and to my already awakening sex below. A soft, delicate hand encircled my hardening shaft as another cupped my taut sac. Lois placed her hand on my cheek and turned my head to hers.

  “Thank you, master,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “I, I….”

  Tears were rolling down her face. “Shhhhhh,” I said in an attempt to comfort her. “It’s all right now.”

  Her lips joined mine and I felt her tongue explore my mouth. A wave of pleasure floated through me as I tasted her breath commingled with mine. My cock had grown stiff and the hand that gripped it, I could not tell whose, tenderly stroked its length. I felt Patricia’s mouth seize my nipple and suck on it gently. She swirled her tongue across it. I moaned into Lois’s mouth as my passion began to grow. While Patricia dragged her lips across my chest, and down my stomach, Lois broke our kiss. She knelt up over me and offered me one of her porcelain breasts. I sucked on her teat hungrily. I heard her utter a deep sigh as the nipple stiffened under my lips. I reached out my hand and caressed her silken skin, running it over her hip and down the length of her thigh.

  Patricia had continued her lips’ downward voyage. She caressed my inner thigh with her hand, pulling my legs apart. I felt her ease herself over my leg and position herself just below my hardened shaft. Lips encircled the bulbous head of my cock. I could feel the heat of her skilled mouth flowing through my body. As the hands that had been stroking my sex left, she pressed her lips downwards, engulfing my member to its hilt. I groaned as I felt the lips tighten around my cock, its length embedded in the Irish girl’s narrow throat. Lois withdrew her breast and, placing her hands on either side of my head, resumed our kiss, sucking my tongue from my mouth, pulling it into hers.

  My consciousness alternated between the mouth working my pulsing cock and the exquisite pressure on my tongue. I was overwhelmed with lust, my senses nearing overload. As my juices rose, I felt Patricia’s mouth withdraw. I broke my kiss with Lois and looked down my torso. She was looking up at me, smiling, her eyes soft, imp-like. “Not yet, master,” she said. “Not yet.”

  I was about to protest when Lois turned to join Patricia’s oral torment of my loins. She stretched her body the length of mine, spreading her legs, presenting her dilated and moist slit to my mouth. I ran my arms around her thighs, drawing the pungent crevasse to my lips. Small, tender hands pressed my legs wide and pushed my thighs upwards. As Lois lowered her mouth to my cock, Patricia took my aching balls into hers. I groaned with pleasure. I buried my face between Lois’s soft, white thighs, seizing her tiny bud with my lips. I could feel her tremble as I pulled on it gently, tickling it with my tongue. Her mouth left my cock, only to run the length of my steely rod. Patricia joined her, and two hot, rough tongues stroked my shaft.

  My hips shuddered as an electric charge shot from my cock to my brain. I was intoxicated by the musky aroma of Lois’s moist pussy. I yearned for release. Lois recaptured my tool with her mouth and began an energetic caress of my prick with her lips. Patricia’s hands pushed my thighs further upwards. I felt her tongue trace the length of my perineum, and dart into the ring of my bowels. It was a caress I had never known, and the warmth of her tongue inside me and the lips and tongue that caressed my meaty pole drove me past the point of no return. I cried out as my cock jetted stream after stream of hot fluid into Lois’s welcoming mouth. Her thighs tightened around my head as she began to shudder and jerk, her own crisis flowing through her. I felt like my cock would never stop as intense, almost painful, spasms convulsed it.

  Finally, my orgasm began to fade; my body felt limp as if drugged. Lois moved her body off of mine as Patricia rose from her intimate caresses. I saw their mouths join, Patricia fervently drinking of my discharge from Lois’s mouth. When their mouths drew apart, they both looked at me and smiled.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon, and well into the evening, fucking. Patricia had earned her turn, and I kissed and caressed her breasts as Lois drank from between her thighs. The black haired Irish girl moaned and called out as Lois brought her to a wrenching orgasm.

  After a respite, I laid them next to each other and took turns plowing their furrows, encasing my cock in their hot sheaths, one after the other. They squirmed and moaned as I plundered their gushing slits, moving back and forth until they were both almost mad with desire. I finally let Patricia come, her legs entwined behind my back, moaning with pleasure, while Lois sucked at her lips. I then shifted to Lois, pushing her to her back. She cried out as I was spilling my seed deep within her.

  We lay entangled for what seemed like hours. I drifted in and out of sleep as the sated women tenderly caressed my soft but still tumescent manhood, their bodies crushed against mine. When my forces were renewed, we started again.

  It was late when hunger began to overrule my passion. I let the women sleep while I took a quick shower. When I returned to the bedroom, the two women were still asleep. They were entwined in each other’s arms. I looked upon the beauteous flesh before me, the delicate thighs, the soft, pouty lips. Patricia’s coal black hair was splayed out around her. She had her arm over Lois’s pale, white hip. Their breasts kissed. The only things that marred this tender scene were the ubiquitous leather collars and bracelets, the angry, red, cursive ‘k’ on their buttocks.

  What did they dream about, I wondered. Did they envision their innocent youths, a time when the horrors of female slavery were unknown to them? Did they recall past lovers, whose tenderness and affection once made them feel treasured? I could not believe that the two sweetly ensconced beauties were reliving in their dreams, for the moment at least, the harsh reality of their present existence.

  I considered the slumbering form of the former reporter, Lois. I had been witness to her conversion from a free woman to a mere object of pleasure. Her demeanor differed sharply on that first day at the resort when she had begged not to be raped, when she had reluctantly accepted Rukimo’s large, thick cock in her mouth. She had become an eager and skilled whore, a master at sexual technique in six short weeks. It may have been little more than a month that she had begun her service as a sexual slave, but it might as well have been years.

  I ordered the women some food over the phone and shook them gently awake. It would be a gross violation of slave discipline for them to be found sleeping in my bed while I was away. I could have ordered my meal in, but, again, slave girls did not eat with the masters, and I was still concerned that I might lose face by appearing to be too soft on them. Patricia asked permission to use the small water closet allocated for the use of slave girls that was set into the corner of the bathroom. When she had left the room, Lois waived me over to her, an urgency in her face. I thought that she desired a kiss, and I leaned over to grant her that favor. To my surprise, she pulled my head down so that her lips were at my ear.

  “Bederson sent me,” was all she said.

  My mind reeled in shock. Bederson was the agent who had recruited me into this madness. He had promised me instructions. I had never heard from him and thought that somehow I had either been forgotten or betrayed. My thoughts raced back to our conference in the little room back in the Federal prison in Atlanta, me in shackles, him in his well-tailored Brooks Brothers suit. I remembered his words, “If it’s in the national interest, Harry, we can justify almost anything.”

  I looked at the widened eyes of the naked female who knelt on the floor at the foot of my bed. This woman had endured what few women could even have conceived of. She had been beaten and branded, forced to open herself to countless men. For the past six weeks or so she had been under daily threat of torture and abuse. Did ‘anything’ incl
ude the sacrifice of this beautiful, young female, the loss of all of her personhood, her reduction to a chattel whose value lay only in the pleasure her body could give to others?

  Patricia had returned to the bedroom and assumed a kneeling posture beside Lois. I must have telegraphed my astonishment, and my fear. For if Lois was Bederson’s agent, how long would it be until someone was able to wrench it out of her? My life was in greater peril than I thought. And I had let her live!

  “Master,” Patricia asked, her voice full of authentic concern, “are you ill?”

  I tried to recover my equanimity. “Yea, uh, I’m okay,” I stuttered. I wanted to interrogate Lois, to discover what I could about how I was supposed to get myself, and now her, out of this. I looked at her again and I saw her shake her head almost imperceptibly. She was right. We could not talk now. Letting Patricia know that I was an undercover agent, a serpent in Klitzman’s bosom, was the same as telling every slave girl on the island. The odds were that at least one of them would believe that the road to better treatment, to an assuagement of her forlorn life, lay in betraying me. And Lois. I would have to wait.

  Since I had announced my intent to go and eat, I could not change my mind now without rousing Patricia’s intense curiosity. Somehow I would have to send Patricia on her way so that I could converse privately, and ever so secretly, with Lois. I tried to cover up. “You girls have drawn the life force right out of me,” I said, managing a little smile. “I need to regain my strength.”

  Patricia gave me one of her pixie-like smiles. “Yes, master,” she said. I turned and left my suite, vowing to make a swift return.