PREDATOR RIDGE
by Candace Smith
Copyright 2010 Candace Smith
Published by Strict Publishing International
PRELUDE
Garrett stood silently stroking his dark whiskers, only half listening to the men bragging about their accomplishments and trying to win his support. Even after three months of solitude with only his captive for company, he found their incessant chatter irritating as they listed their methods, trying to surpass the other’s abilities.
To him, a man who had accepted his skills as a master the first time he made his mother crawl to him, their training seemed unremarkable. When he was young, his mother used to grip his chin and try to focus her blurry stare on his black eyes, and she would tell him he was the devil’s child and use the excuse to beat him. He smiled to himself, remembering how he had forced the drunken woman to hand over the money she had earned from the fuck with the truck driver, and he had used the cash to drag her to a Mexican whorehouse where traded her for a week’s worth of time with a slut and a room.
The others merely forced compliance with devices and punishment, and never understood the more arousing benefits of the psychological subterfuge of the girls. That was the true art, the real skill they were lacking, and one they would never understand. No, their impulsive satisfaction demanded the immediate response of a scream or wail, and they ignored the arousing sound of a whimper… the internal noise that let Garrett know he had altered his captive’s psyche with a mark that would not fade in a week like the welt of a lash. Still, the men were about the closest he had to friends… other than Colby, of course.
By the set of his jaw and the intense way his dark eyes stared across the campfire reflecting its flame like Satan, the men should have recognized that their subtly dropped hints were being ignored. Garrett did not give a damn who Colby chose to replace him, and his mind wandered to the upcoming sale.
The girl still fought to deny the inevitable permanence of her captivity, though he was not overly concerned whether she would bring a good price. The important result of his training was that she would fearfully do as she was ordered, and he was certain she would earn him enough to purchase the ranch on the ridge of the foothills. He had spent five years in the mountains… enjoyable years, he admitted to himself, but he was ready to move on. This was the ninth slave he had trained for the ranchers, and after the next one he would move into his new position. There was a building pressure against his zipper while his thoughts drew to anticipating his next captive. This last one would have to endure the extra months of the winter training, because the mountain trails became impassable with ice and snow and made it impossible to come down until spring.
The night air was chilled, with errant breezes causing his split leather riding coat to brush along his legs. Yet, his eyes narrowed on a shining rivulet of sweat trailing from beneath the young woman’s collar, making its way to the valley between her breasts. He smiled at the sign of her obvious fear… a statement that his captive was not so broken that she could no longer respond to her torment. Her blue eyes were wide with the delicious edge of panic Garrett had seen so many times. They would soon fill with tears that would spill down her cheeks, while the trainer gave the aroused buyers a taste of her submission. He felt his cock stretching, thickening with the anticipation of displaying his masterful accomplishment.
The girl would not plead… she knew better than that, and Garrett watched the other two women hanging beside her, already moving their feet and trying to pull their legs together to hide their worth. Not his Joanne. She hung in silence, absorbing the painful stretch of her arms pulled high over her head and attached to a branch by chains clipped onto her leather wrist cuffs. Her ankles, likewise cuffed, were secured to the embedded bolts in a log that lay on the dirt beneath her, spreading her legs and forcing her to balance on the balls of her feet. Garrett was pleased she remained still, presenting herself for the men as he had warned her to do. The strained position gave her nude body a lithe, slender look, not missed in the stares of the cowboys gathering across the clearing.
Joanne glanced to her side where her friends were displayed. The frightened expressions on their faces, occasionally accompanied by fearful hitched sniffles, earned them glares from their trainers. She felt Garrett staring at her, threatening her from across the fire to obey. It was enough to force her compliance, because she could not fathom… refused to consider… the consequences of failing.
The fourth girl was missing, and Garrett was slightly pissed off that the presentation was delayed until Roger arrived with his captive. The man was trying too hard to prove himself and overshadow the others, working to gain recognition from Colby and earn Garrett’s position in the mountains. The results with his last two captives were depressingly despondent slaves… an unwelcome waste of time and money. Colby and Garrett had discussed the man and had agreed that if Roger had not gained control over his ambition, he would have to be replaced.
Garrett watched Joanne’s attention pulled to the far edge of the site when she saw the missing girl, Sandy, being dragged towards the other women by her angry trainer. “Damn,” Garrett muttered, as he noticed tears begin to wash down his slave’s face. He had hoped Joanne would hold them back until he picked up the whip. The two other trainers realized their opportunity to convince him had ended, and they finally stopped talking and hoped they had said enough to sway Garrett’s support.
Joanne nervously waited for whatever Garrett decided would happen to her next. It had been many months, since she had any say in her future. The entry level position with the newspaper seemed distant… as though that life belonged to someone else. She clenched and opened her fists, hoping for the relief of the little bit of circulation that it sometimes offered.
She saw one of the black cloaked trainers coming towards her with his fist threaded through Sandy’s hair. Some of the limp, dark blonde strands had actually ripped out of her scalp, and the cruelty made Joanne’s frightened tears spill as the man dragged the shocked girl closer. A part of Joanne’s mind… a small part of her old self… was pleased she could still push through her training to feel sympathy for someone other than herself, though even that was no longer allowed.
She glanced fearfully at Garrett, knowing that he would be angry if he knew she was thinking of anything other than pleasing him. He was talking to the men beside him with his back to her, and she looked back at Sandy. Her friend was beyond caring and did not utter so much as a whimper while her trainer continued to pull her across the dirt. The silent girl’s knees were bruised and cut in places from the travel down the ridge after the long walk behind the man’s horse. Roger scowled when he tossed her, and Sandy’s head barely missed hitting the log by Joanne’s left foot.
Her sympathy for Sandy dissipated, when Joanne looked across the fire to where more men began to fill the benches, narrowing their eyes with sadistic interest while they continued to evaluate the hanging women. Garrett’s eyes focused on her with disapproval and she quivered, knowing he had seen her tears. He had told her that after tonight one of the ranchers would own her, and she would become their property. He warned her to perform as she had been trained, with the threat that if none of the ranchers bid on her, she would be sold to a man named Antonio and disappear into one of his Mexican brothels. Her eyes dropped to Sandy’s crumpled, inert form and she silently willed her to get up… to stand stretched with her friends so that one of the ranchers would purchase her and she would not end up as a mindless receptacle for Antonio’s customers.
Garrett was the leader of the Western slope trainers, and the other men vied uselessly to imitate his technique. Joanne saw him speak briefly with the park ranger, Harvey, the man who had aided in her capture. He had delivered the sup
plies after they arrived at the secluded mountain home and told Garrett that the other captors, especially Roger, were trying to gain his position when Garrett moved down off the ridge. That was so long ago, when Joanne still held out hope for rescue or escape.
She no longer thought of those things, after enduring months of torturous training. Her mind had been carefully stripped of self-worth, and her only thoughts were how to please and how to avoid punishment. She was a commodity to be used by these men, and hopefully to satisfy their needs.
When Garrett had leashed her to his horse to bring her down to the sale, she had panicked. Joanne threw herself at his feet, and begged him to keep her. She would endure any of his torments to avoid facing a new master, because sometimes he let her feel the wonderful mindlessness of orgasm, and he told her not all the masters allowed it. As much as she wanted to do as her trainer had ordered and find her ultimate pleasure in pleasing, it was still only the ecstasy of climax that let her forget her torment for a few, brief moments. Garrett had dragged her to her feet, and he told her she was barely adequate to present for the sale. He said the best she could expect were the whorehouses if she could not entice one of the ranchers.
Joanne glanced over to him. He was still standing to one side of the group with the trainers but they were no longer talking while they stared at Sandy. The captors were easy to recognize with their long black riding coats and cowboy hats. Each of her friends had spent the past months in one of their mountain hideaways, being viciously broken and trained to the point of fearful compliance. On the way down the mountain, Joanne had tried to convince herself that nothing could be as bad as staying with Garrett. Now that she saw the cruel lust on the faces of the men they had been prepared for, she was sure she was wrong.
One of the ranchers walked up to Garrett, and the two men left the others and approached her. Joanne felt a twinge of guilty relief when they focused their attention on Sandy. “This is the third one, Garrett. We’re pulling him in.” The men lowered to their haunches, and Garrett reached down and gripped Sandy’s chin. Joanne felt an involuntary shiver as she remembered the many times he had held her jaw the same way and forced her to look into his dark eyes.
“Shit.” Garrett dropped his hold on Sandy, and her head fell back onto the dirt. He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his long black hair. “Antonio might not take this one.”
“She’s blonde. He’ll take her,” the rancher replied.
One of the other trainers joined the two men, and he squatted beside them. “You pulling Roger in, Colby?” Joe asked uneasily.
“He’s costing us too much. I talked to the others, and we agree he’s probably just burned out. Three seasons is a long time up there.” The man nodded towards the cliffs. “Maybe we’ll pull him down until spring, and see where we stand.”
The trainer in question turned from the man he was speaking with, and strode over to the men studying his captive. “The slut shut down, Colby, and she can’t be broke of it.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice, as he suggested, “She might do for one of the ranch hands.”
Colby ran a hand down Sandy’s side and squeezed her thigh, causing her to whimper. Her blank eyes continued to stare at some distant place in her mind, dry and uncomprehending. He let out a sigh and raised his steely eyes. “I don’t want her, and none of the others are interested.” The men stood, and Colby turned to Roger. “You’re pushing them too hard, and we think it might be best to pull you down for a while. I can use your help on the ranch, and it will give you a chance to be around people and rethink your methods.”
“It’s not my fucking methods.” Roger turned and glared at Garrett. “I just keep getting the short end of the stick when the sluts are divided.”
Joanne watched Garrett’s jaw clench, and he waited a moment before saying evenly, “Roger, I think you need to listen to Colby on this.”
Joe grabbed the opportunity to support Garrett, and he looked down at Sandy and said, “Roger, as I remember it, you picked this one.”
Roger ignored the trainer’s statement and turned back to Colby. “If you pull me down, you’ll be sending Harvey up in my place. We both know you’ll never put me back up again.”
“Look, just take the winter off. Harvey’s not ready to go up yet, and the line we have set up is only for three girls anyway. You won’t be missing anything,” Colby answered.
Roger studied the woman on the ground who was threatening his position with her catatonic silence. He began to silently nod his head, as if making a decision. “You still got the other two sales?”
“One in the Southeast and one in New England,” Colby affirmed.
“Let me take her back up. I’ll work with her through the winter, and if I can’t get her saleable by spring, I won’t fight you on coming down.” Roger stared into Colby’s eyes.
Colby thought about it. Even with the girl being a blonde, the ranchers would be lucky to get ten grand out of her, and the threat of being pulled might get Roger back on track. Colby knew the man had the ability, and he had delivered well trained merchandise in the past. If they had to bring him in, Garrett would have to remain in the mountains and Colby already had their new enterprise planned. “Let me talk to the others.” The three men walked away, and Joanne saw Roger shake Garrett’s hand in apology.
Colby talked to the other ranchers who nodded their heads in agreement, and they called Roger over to them. After a short discussion, he came over to Sandy and looped his hand through her bound wrists and dragged her off towards the trail to the mountain. She never made a sound.
Joanne closed her eyes when the men approached and began running their hands across her body, as if they were assessing the value of livestock. Garrett’s deep voice boomed across the clearing, “Eyes.”
Joanne flinched, and immediately opened her eyes and tried to focus on the dancing flames in the fire. She felt roughened fingers as they pinched and prodded, and she held back most of her humiliated whimpers when they spread her intimate lips and stroked. Through it all she managed to try to stay still, with only her tears and frightened panting breaths showing her terror. The men finished their initial inspection and walked back to the benches.
Garrett approached her with the black whip in his hand… the one with the thin end that felt like a wasp stinging her over and over. She was trembling by the time he walked behind her, and she looked miserably at the men across the clearing for rescue. All that returned her silent plea were the excited faces of the cowboys. The first strike landed across the fleshy globes of her bottom, and her hips jutted forward while her feet scrambled to stay on the log. She knew it hurt more to be stretched and hanging by her arms.
The second lash landed on the crease where her thighs met her bottom, and her tears spilled down her cheeks. “Aaah…” she screamed. She knew better than to beg. Garrett walked in front of her, with his eyes narrowed in excitement. A long time ago she had given up trying to understand why he liked to torture her. All she knew was that the more he hurt her the more aroused he became. By the look on the faces of the observers, all these men shared that interest.
The whip snapped across her nipples and she screamed in agony, pushing back off the log to escape. It felt like a knife had been drawn across her tips and she looked down at the line as it reddened and rose. “Position,” the trainer snarled, and Joanne tried to get her footing. She saw his eyes drop to her spread legs and she whimpered, the next target obvious. It took all her effort not to try the futile attempt of drawing her thighs together for protection. His strike would be purposely harsher if she did that, and then she might beg… and in disgrace, be sold to the Mexican whorehouses. The whip lashed across her hairless pussy, the tip expertly finding the hood of her clit. Her hips pumped madly while she shrieked.
The lashing was only for demonstration purposes and he did not want to mark her beyond visual enticement, so Garrett tossed the whip to the ground. Joanne shuddered when he walked up to her and wrapped his arm around
her hips, pulling her against his chest and stilling her thrusting movements. Her painful sobs turned to a feeling close to gratitude when she realized the whipping was over. His free hand spread her pussy and his finger began stroking her folds. After months of training, Joanne felt herself lubricate obediently, and she tried to let her mind wander to a lover. It was difficult, because Garrett insisted she not close her eyes, and she kept glancing at the men watching her humiliation.
Her body had become used to his debasing treatment and she quivered with the beginning of embarrassing spasms. Garrett’s dark blue eyes stared up at her… she could feel them. This was his favorite torment. The knowledge that he could make her respond and control her sexual arousal was the ultimate, fulfilling goal for him. None of the other trainers were as adept at forcing passion, and Garrett reveled in his mastery. He could feel the tortured girl’s pussy clenching, dripping her juice down her thighs while his thumb stroked across the welt on her ass. Reflexively, her eyes squeezed closed and she sobbed her orgasm, gratefully pushing into his hand. A soft echo of his voice broke through her pleasure as she remembered him saying she might not be allowed to experience this distraction after she was sold.
Garrett wiped her juices on her thigh and walked back to the other trainers. The ranchers came forward, and a middle aged cowboy stuck his finger into her still pulsing channel. Another finger plunged into her rectum and she gasped, and then began to cry. Joanne still did not beg or plead, because she was sure far worse things could be done to her.
In the end, she was purchased by a rancher named James from Arizona, and Garrett lowered and prepared her for shipment without saying another word to her. The last she saw of the man who had abducted and tortured her was from the back of a van with her hands wrapped around the shiny steel bars of a cage. His black coat flowed behind him in the slight breeze while he walked over to where the other trainers were meeting with Colby. When the van’s doors banged shut she was left in darkness, facing the rear of the truck as the engine was started.
Predator Ridge Page 1