Semi-Hard

by Candace Smith

  His thoughts turned to just how lucrative this business must be, when a heavy set man with dark hair that was just beginning to streak with silver at the temples, turned towards him. Their eyes met for a moment, and then the man spoke to his aid. While the guard turned to study the cowboy in the shadows, the buyer sat with a snifter of cognac, and turned his attention back to the girl on display.

  Buyers wanting closer inspection of the bound offering, rose and approach the terrified woman, and one of the Arabs paid a fee to have his guard lash a whip across her ass. The gagged shriek must have pleased the white robed man, because his white teeth shone in a smile and he nodded to the cartel representative announcing the merchandise. The girl was removed from the post and led away by her new owner’s security guard.

  Dillon watched several more girls presented, and it seemed to him that most of them appeared to have been recently abducted. They displayed none of the submissive qualities of training to please the men seated in front of them, and their panic overrode any possibility for them to experience what was happening to them. Their faces were ruined with the tears they had cried since their captivity, and a few of the girls bore bruises on their thighs or bottoms. Dillon decided that some of the cartel members must have initiated them towards their future.

  The cowboy could not decipher the silent nature of payment for the women, but Dillon was certain that the amount he had been paid for his trained slave was a fraction of what the cartel would receive for her.

  His blonde was brought out, compliantly raising her arms to be secured, though the fear was evident in her blue eyes as she searched the audience until she located him. A look of calmness crossed over her face, and Dillon noticed the big man look back at him again. Although the man’s guard had led two previous young women away, this was the first time that the big man approached the stage for a closer inspection. When he rose, two other potential buyers quickly reclaimed their seats, and Dillon suspected that, for whatever mysterious reason, no one would bid on his slave until the dark haired man had made his decision.

  Viktor’s sharp eyes noticed the man in the shadows as soon as he and the other buyers were led to the courtyard. Two months ago, he had purchased a redhead that was not the usual street fare the cartel usually tried to move. Earlier, when all the potential buyers were negotiating lines of payment with the cartel, they were offered a preview of the women being auctioned. The slaves were huddled together in a room off the parlor, and just before the buyers were escorted outside, a blonde was led in. She nervously knelt in position while the other dark beauties wailed behind gags and shook in terror as the men looked at them through the bars.

  The blonde… somehow Viktor knew that the man with the black hat and boots had brought her. While he waited patiently for her to come up to the post, he purchased two sluts for his men in the guardroom that were watching his estate in Russia. Finally, the small woman was led out, obediently raising her cuffed wrists but fearfully scanning the crowd until she located the cowboy.

  Viktor rose, and several men returned to their seats. If the Russian wanted the girl, the other buyers knew that he would drive the price up to unreasonable limits. The young woman trembled while Viktor caressed her breasts, and her eyes never left the shadowed man across the courtyard. Viktor leaned closer, pressing against her, and he slid a thick finger between her pussy lips. Her clit was ringed as well as her nipples, and the Russian acknowledged the cowboy’s attention to detail. It seemed obvious that her pussy, legs and arms had been permanently denuded.

  When his finger stroked her slit, she immediately lubricated, and she glanced up at him once before returning her stare to the cowboy. In a short amount of time she was rocking her hips into his hand, encouraging his stroking with half-closed eyes of passion while she continued to gaze at the trainer. Her climax was quick, and when Viktor shoved his finger inside the wet hole, the spasming clenching of her channel assured him that the orgasm was genuine.

  He nodded to the auctioneer, and looked back towards the alcove. Mikhail led the girl to the transport cages, and the Russian met Dillon’s black eyes. They were narrowed with a hint of a sadistic, knowing smile. With his property sold, Dillon had no interest in watching more street whores displayed. He made his way around the edges of the wall towards the gate, and he left the auction in search of a bar for one more cold beer before making his way back to his truck.

  The cool sweating bottle thudded down on the scarred wood of the bar in front of him, and when Dillon’s hand moved to his pocket to pay, an arm reached across him and tossed cash towards the bartender. Dillon took a sip of beer before looking up to see his benefactor. It was the bodyguard who had accompanied his slave’s buyer. Dillon lifted an eyebrow, but he remained silent.

  “Viktor regrets that he cannot leave the festivities for a while, and he wishes to impose on your time to wait for him. I think this meeting would most definitely be of interest to you.”

  “Russian?” Dillon guessed. He sipped a long draw of the cold beer.

  “Yes, my friend.” The man smiled and sat down on the barstool next to him, flagging the bartender for another bottle. “I am Mikhail, and Viktor has asked me to see to any needs you might have while we wait.”

  Dillon shrugged with an indifference he was not really feeling. The brief time he had spent watching the auction had assured him that the money he had received for the blonde girl was a minute amount compared to how much the cartel had received for her. These people were wealthy, with funds available to purchase slaves or, just as easily, to make people disappear. “Well, Mikhail, why do you think they invited me to watch the proceedings?”

  “The cartel must work with Viktor out of necessity, but I’m sure you noticed that no one challenges him. The Mexicans could see his interest in the two slaves you provided, and they must be willing to throw your future merchandise to persuade us from further ambushing their profit,” Mikhail answered honestly. “Viktor is able to get their prime slaves with a much lower investment than if the cartel can force a bidding war between the other buyers.”

  “And, you don’t think the cartel will come after me for cutting them out of the profit?” Dillon asked.

  “No. They do not need the problems with us.”

  Dillon was not sure he wanted to get involved with men who had the ability to make the cartel nervous, but he could see no way out of at least meeting with the Russian. He sure as hell did not want problems with them if the Mexicans were leaving them alone.

  “I prefer to leave the rest of your inquiries to Viktor,” the Russian informed him, in a tone that let Dillon know that their conversation about the matter had ended.

  Dillon let the guard buy him dinner, and they traded stories about their homelands. By dessert, Dillon had promised the man a cowboy hat and boots if he saw him again. Mikhail was solidly built, and although Dillon had no doubt his cold eyes held the promise of disposing of his boss man’s enemies, Dillon felt a comfortable kinship with the man. Not that Dillon would kill… that did not excite him… but he had no qualms in stealing girls’ lives from them.

  It was two hours later that Mikhail rose and excused himself, and he asked Dillon to wait. When he escorted Viktor back to the bar, Mikhail’s hand was behind the open flap of his jacket and gripping the gun that Dillon was sure he kept hidden there.

  “Dillon, thank you for waiting.” The man’s grip was firm, and Dillon had a fleeting thought that he would not like to put money down on a contest between Viktor and his bodyguard. “Even those Mexican rebels need to revel in celebration after the sale,” he chuckled. Viktor pulled out the chair across from Dillon, and Mikhail sat between them with his eyes constantly searching the bar for potential threats.

  “First time I’ve ever been to one,” Dillon drawled. “After the girl went, I didn’t see any sense in stickin’ around.” At first, the nervous habit of sliding back to the Texas slur bothered him. The more Dillon thought about it, the more he decided that it might be better if this ma
n thought he was not too sharp, and to let him believe Dillon was merely the truck driving cowboy that he presented himself to be.

  “The redhead… she was yours, as well.” This was spoken more as a statement rather than a question.

  Dillon thought back, feeling his cock twitch when he remembered training the feisty girl. “Yes. She was a bit more challenging than your recent purchase.”

  “Still, compared to the shit they offer, she was quite a coup for me. You can get more like those?” Viktor asked.

  Dillon understood the man appreciated the time he put into the girls’ training… not that it was a burden to him. Next to the abduction, training them was the part he enjoyed. The sale, though the money was necessary, was more of a chance for him to turn over his inventory and allow him the opportunity to capture another unsuspecting young woman. This, in turn, gave him the opportunity to fine-tune his training methods. “I’m kinda’ stuck with where my loads need to be run, but yes. I’ve managed to scoop up three or four a year,” Dillon replied, deliberately cutting his actual numbers of abductions short. He would rather promise less and deliver more.

  The Russian stared into Dillon’s eyes, and he could almost sense Viktor’s wheels turning, weighing out options. “If you are not limited by your… vocation… you could get more?” His intense gaze met Dillon’s, and the trucker felt the queasy shrinking sensation of his sack tightening. This was not a man to fuck with, but Dillon also sensed that the Russian would be a man of his word… as long as it benefited him.

  “Viktor, I already have pretty good facilities to hold and train them, but I still have to pay the bills,” Dillon replied. All of the money he had received from the sale of the girls, which was basically ten thousand a head from the brothels, had gone into adding equipment to the training facilities in the garage and towards the upkeep of the truck. Though the fifteen thousand he had received for the blonde was promising, Dillon was far from really turning a profit. He was curious to learn what the Russian intended to propose.

  When Viktor told him what he had paid for the girl, the cowboy’s mouth dropped open and the fat man laughed. “Yes, though I would work out a percentage with you of my final proceeds when I resell them, so it should bring you even more than I paid the cartel for your little blonde,” he assured him. “I see no sense for you to go through the Mexicans.”

  Viktor tented his fingers, a sign Mikhail understood to mean that the deal was set. “It was fortunate you arrived today instead of leaving her with them for a week before the sale. They use trained slaves like this, and do not offer them to us until they are barely worth our time. It would benefit us both to arrange a direct source. Though I could see that the redhead had training, it still took some time to get her mind and physical appearance improved for resale.”

  The thought of becoming a full-time slaver excited Dillon, as it was something he had been planning to do eventually anyway. The Russian told him that he had access to properties all over the country with private airstrips, so as soon as Dillon had finished with a girl, he could transfer her for payment within a few days notice. Viktor said he could manage to justify Dillon’s trips by issuing bogus invoices of transport of goods from a manufacturing plant he owned, and he had distribution points in practically any area Dillon decided to travel. Viktor’s company had a web of destinations to hide illegal activities behind legal enterprises.

  The deal was set, and the Russian fronted him with enough cash to pay off his debts and make the alterations to the truck to convert it to a mobile training facility. The cost was outrageous, but Viktor did not flinch at the expense. Dillon dismantled most of his original facility at his house, because using the box trailer of the rig would enable him to continue training while he picked up a new woman. This would increase the amount of inventory he could provide to his sponsor. It went unspoken what they would do to him if he did not hold up his end of the deal.

  He sat in the house with his feet propped up on the low wooden table jotting down plans for the new association, when his eyes rose to the television at the mention of his name. Not his name, really, but what the news reporters and police had tagged him with… ‘The Highway Slasher’. Slasher made it sound like Dillon killed the girls, and they had not found any bodies, of course. They were referring to the tires, and he supposed that ‘Highway Slasher Abductor’ was too much of a mouthful.

  The newscast offered no new information, other than that they were losing confidence that a black rig was involved because someone said they saw an old red truck pulling out of one of the stops where one of the abandoned cars was found. Ironically, the black rig one of the witnesses had seen was not even his. The witness was positive that the semi did not have a sleeper cab, and they described it pulling a silver refrigerated trailer. This meant that they still had no idea of his vehicle description, and people were letting stories run wild about the victims kept frozen in the truck. Dillon knew this information would tend to freeze potential witnesses’ minds from considering alternatives.

  By the time the association with the Russians had been in place for a year, the police were no closer to catching him. His abductions followed no decipherable plan, as they happened in almost any state, any road, and any time. The closest continuity and pattern they could formulate was that a girl would disappear every month… and, that she would never be heard from again.

  CHAPTER I

  Sweat trickled down between Tiana’s breasts while Adam squeezed them, his hands slipping on the slick surface. Even with the big fan blowing a windy stream of slightly cooler air across them, the heat in the bedroom seemed to hold onto the musky smell of sex permeating from the damp sheets, and the breeze offered very little relief to the hot night.

  “We gotta’ get the AC fixed,” Tiana gritted out as she bounced on Adam’s cock. It was only the beginning of summer, and she knew that the stifling air and humidity would only get worse.

  “Shit, it’s hot in here,” Adam agreed.

  Tiana noted he did not make mention that his check would be coming soon and that they could use it for the repair. She found the sweltering heat was interrupting any chance of her achieving an orgasm, so she reached behind her bottom to fondle her boyfriend’s sack. There was no way that he would let her climb down until he was finished, and her knees were beginning to ache from being folded back for so long. Tiana enjoyed sex as much as the next girl… but not in a damn furnace… and not with her supplying all the effort again.

  While her hand reached back to stroke him, her fingers slipped up and she pinched her bottom… hard. It was the first true response she had managed from her pussy, but it was just too damn hot to bother to arouse herself further. When the AC had worked and she could concentrate on her own passion, she would close her eyes and pretend that Adam was forcing her to ride him. Sometimes, she fantasized that she was bound in place and that he was… well shit, not even that was working this time.

  She never had to pretend before she got with Adam, and she had no idea why her thoughts had begun to turn to a darker form of sex. Tiana figured that if she got with a regular boyfriend again, one who liked to find ways to excite her in bed, her fantasies would return to normal. She had been sleeping with Adam since they had met in Lit Class a year ago and began dating. At first, it seemed that they shared a lot of interests, but Tiana had gradually come to the conclusion that Adam’s main preoccupation seemed to concern what pleased Adam at any given time. His upbringing in a wealthy home had made him expect to be pampered and spoiled, though Tiana was fairly certain that he was unaware of this.

  Tiana was one of the few students who were actually in college to receive a degree, and she had little interest in student parties or searching for a man to complete her life. A fuck-buddy-escort through college would be fine, and then they could go their separate ways. But shit, I at least need someone who moves when we’re screwing around.

  She wanted security, and to her that meant the independence accreditation from school would give her. Us
ually, Tiana could allow her vivid imagination to carry her through Adam’s mediocre performance in bed, so she had agreed to a trial period of moving in with him after her lease had run out. The two of them still had three years of college left, and she had hoped the arrangement would save her some money.

  With an absent father and a mother who had sunk back into life in the trailer park with her last drunken partner, Tiana was swamped in student loans and government aid. Her only work experience growing up had been watching the kids in the trailer park… mostly in exchange for food. When she had arrived at college last year, she had managed to land a job at the daycare. It provided her with a little spending money, after she covered the cost of insurance on her small ten year old car. There was a distressingly meager amount that she could use for rent, and the thought of having someone to share living expenses was welcome.

  It was not until after she moved in that she had discovered Adam’s former roommate had moved out because Adam never seemed to have his share of the bill money. Tiana was strapped for cash after catching things up, and fixing the AC would not be an option for at least another two weeks. That was when Adam said that his check from his folks would arrive.

  Tiana finally felt him stiffen, and his hands grabbed her waist. Thank, god, she thought as he quickly pushed into her and emptied. She climbed off and walked towards the shower, noting that Adam had not asked if she was finished. Fifteen minutes later, Tiana was wrapping a towel around herself and feeling much more comfortable. She searched the counter for the toothpaste, and then began digging through drawers when she saw the empty tube in the trash.