Convict's Captive Book 4: Welcome to Mexico

by Paul Blades

  The walls were paneled with dark stained and polished maple panels. A number of elegant landscape paintings were on the walls showing hunting scenes. Jack brought her over to a large one depicting an Indian buffalo hunt. It was filled with reds and yellows and greens and blues. It showed a wide scene and the Indian figures were small, riding dappled ponies or creeping up on the buffalo, bows and arrows in hand, from over a hill. Some Indian women were busy carving up a couple of buffalo, large, blackish brown things, that had already succumbed to the hunt.

  Jack released Darla momentarily so that he could remove the painting from the wall. He realized as he was doing it that he had just telegraphed to Darla the fact that someone had given him inside knowledge, but, frankly, he didn’t give a shit. Darla wouldn’t be communicating anything meaningful to anyone for a long while.

  Behind the painting was a safe. The front of it was round and about a foot in diameter. On the front was a black dial with little lines and numbers on it.

  “Okay, cunt,” he told her, “let’s have the combination.”

  Darla’s mascaraed eyes had spoiled and there were little lines of black running down from them onto her cheeks. She had a miserable look on her face. Her blue shoes were now two toned from the liquid she had spilled on them. Her thighs were shiny. She looked for a moment like she was going to refuse his order, but then something just went out of her.

  “First you turn it three times to the right past zero,” she told him. “Then go to the number 27. Then two turns past 27 to 14, going left. Then one turn to the right past 14 to 44. Then it should open.”

  Jack followed her instructions. When he reached 44, he turned the handle. It moved. He looked at her. There was something in her eyes he didn’t like. “Come here!” he spat. She edged forward with a frown. He took hold of her hair and had her stand right in front of the safe. He moved to the side.

  “Is there any reason I shouldn’t just open this thing?” he asked her gruffly.

  “No! No! Don’t! Please don’t!” she cried out. “Please wait! Please!”

  “There’s a spring trap, isn’t there?” Jack asked her.

  “Yes,” she whined miserably.

  “How do you disarm it?”

  “You have to circle the number 44 to the left three times and go to 4,” she whined. It had been her last, best hope. The spring trap would have unloaded a shotgun shell right into Jack’s face.

  Jack considered doing something to the woman for trying to kill him, but decided against it. First of all, he needed her standing in front of the safe in case she was lying about disarming it, second, well, he couldn’t blame her for trying. Fair was fair after all.

  Jack followed Darla’s instructions and left her standing in front of the safe. He turned the handle again and swung it open. Nothing happened.

  Jack turned to the lady. “Get down on the floor,” he told her gruffly. Looking back at him miserably, she sank awkwardly to one knee and then the other. Then, not taking her eyes off of him, she bent over and managed to bring her torso down to the floor, kind of sliding her top half forward and then, at the last second, plopping down.

  She had a fine ass, tight and plump, covered by the thin screen of her lacy panties. Her hands fluttered nervously behind her. Her long fingernails were covered with a pretty shade of blue that blended well with her shoes. Jack had to resist pulling her panties down to her knees to get a better look at her assets, but the draw of the safe was, for now, stronger than the compulsions of his libido.

  The lady had been right about the cash. There were 12 bundles of hundreds, all wrapped up in banker’s paper. Jack picked up the satchel and loaded them into it. Sixty grand. There were several rolled up wads of cash held together with thick rubber bands. Jack flipped through them as he dropped them one by one into the satchel. They were mostly twenties, but mixed up with fifties and tens. After the bills, there was a nice, diamond studded Rolex and a black cloth bag that contained a jumble of gold chains. Jack rooted around in it and pulled out a couple of rings with large stones in them. The bag went into the satchel too.

  And last, but not least, were three trays of Krugerrands, 20 to a tray. Jack emptied the trays into the satchel and tossed the trays away.

  The lady hadn’t moved. She had started crying though. Now that he had the contents of the safe, she was more or less expendable. She was smart enough to know that. But Jack wanted to check out the bedroom and the rest of the house before he did anything about her. He wasn’t going to kill her, of course. She was going on a little trip tonight, but he didn’t want to tell her that yet. She would get all excited and desperate. He saw that he needed to do something to calm her down for now though.

  “Get up,” he told her. She frowned and struggled to her feet. Her stockings were coming down from her thighs and bunching around her knees. Her breasts jiggled nicely as she moved. Jack estimated them as at least 40’s. As she stood there forlornly, her face in a miserable pout, he decided that he just had to see them.

  He stepped forward towards the woman. His knife was in his sheath and he pulled it out. The lady released a whine of dismay, her face crunching into a dismal mien. “Please don’t…” she whispered as she stepped backwards slightly, rattling her ankle chains.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Jack told her. “Just stand still.”

  She ceased her movement, but he could see from her unhappy eyes that she didn’t believe him. He brought the tip of his knife to her belly. Tears were flowing down her face. He flicked his wrist and the tip of the knife sliced through the midpoint of her straining bra. The clamshells parted and her breasts dropped into place. Magnificent!

  They were round and heavy, but not droopy. The gal had quite a few good years left. The areolas were wide, at least 5” across and her nipples long and fat. They were stiff and quivered as the lady took in a deep breath.

  He made Darla turn around and he cut off the rest of her bra. Then he took hold of the hair in the back of her head and marched her back to the living area. He brought her to the bottom of the stairs.

  “We’re going upstairs now, honey,” he told her. “Take one step at a time and be careful. I wouldn’t want you to fall and get hurt.”

  He crept up the stairs behind the woman as she inched her way up. He had to resist the temptation to take hold of her firm rear cheeks. Her waist was narrow and her back long. Her helpless hands were closed into little fists. Twice he had to catch her as she fell backwards, stumbling at a step. At the top of the stairs, he made her lie down again while he checked out the bedrooms. He found the master bedroom right away. He only took a glance inside, for now. He went to the other rooms. There were four other bedrooms. None of them gave any sign that anybody had been using them. He quickly checked the dressers and closets just to make sure, but they were all empty.

  Back in the hallway, he made her get back on her feet. He took hold of her arm and led her into the master bedroom. It was a spacious room, decorated with expensive looking, heavy, dark stained furniture. There was a long dressing table, and there he found several jewel cases. He dumped their contents into his bag. Darla watched him unhappily.

  He checked out the rest of the drawers. In her dresser, he found loads of her silken finery, but not much else. On the man’s dresser, there was a jewel box with a number of jeweled cufflinks and stickpins. In the top drawer, amidst a assemblage of roiled up socks, there were several thick, rolled up wads of bills, mostly hundreds. Into the bag they went. In the nightstand, on what he guessed was the man’s side, there was a .44 magnum colt in the top drawer. He stuck it in the satchel after checking to see whether it was loaded.

  In what he assumed to be the woman’s nightstand, on the other side of the bed, he found, to his amusement, a treasure trove of sex toys. There were several vibrators, two pair of fur lined leather bracelets, a bright red ball gag, a leather hood with a zipper over the mouth and a small flogger with soft, maroon colored tassels. He turned to the woman and smiled. “You like it
kinky I see,” he told her in an amused voice.

  Darla stared at him, her rabid anger clear in her eyes. She wanted desperately to call the man a motherfucker, a bastard, a jerkoff, something that would express her virulent disdain for him, but she remembered the slap he had given her and kept her mouth shut. Jack piled the playthings on the bed. They might be useful later.

  Before examining the contents of the huge walk-in closet, he made the woman get down on the floor again. She had a dismal look on her face as she sank to the floor. Her unhappiness was like a tonic to him. Her heavy breasts wobbled enticingly as she sank to her knees and then to the rug.

  The closet was jam full of expensive clothes, both his and hers, but mostly hers. There were a couple of skimpy numbers he thought it might be nice to see her in. She was going to be his guest for a while and they would have much play together. There was a small carrybag in the closet and he stuffed a few delicious looking numbers into it along with a few pairs of her stiletto heeled shoes. He brought the bag back to the dresser and piled a few handfuls of her intimacies into it.

  He was done casing the bedroom, but he had a sense that he was missing something important. In his experience, there was always one more thing that you had overlooked the first time. He went back to the woman’s dresser and went through each drawer more thoroughly. Way in the back, in the third drawer down, he felt a little box. He pulled it out. It was a rectangular shaped jewel box. He opened it. It was a diamond encrusted two inch wide bracelet. He took a moment to appreciate its beauty. The gems twinkled brightly, even in the soft bedroom light. He turned to the woman. She was looking at him from the floor. She was giving him a wretched look. “Nice” was all he said. He closed the box and dumped in into his satchel.

  He looked at his watch. It was only a little after 1. There was still some time to kill. He didn’t want to hit the road until after 3, so the roads would be mostly dead when he drove away. He looked at the woman and a solution of how to fill up the time came immediately to mind.

  “Get up,” he told her gruffly.

  She rose to her feet. The idea of her urine covered thighs was not appealing to him. He took hold of her arm and led her into the bathroom. Like the bedroom, it was sumptuous. There were his and hers sinks with a long mirror behind them. The tile was off white with brown and red swirls all through it. Definitely marble. The toilet had a padded seat. Several copper colored throw rugs were on the floor. There was a tub, elegant in its design, and a separate shower with half a pentagon of cloudy glass around it etched with designs of naked, frolicking nymphs.

  He made the woman sit down on the toilet. He pulled off her now two toned shoes, removed the manacles on her ankles and drew her stockings down over her knees and then her feet. She was looking at him warily. He rubbed his hands over the outsides of her thighs. They were soft and warm. The lady scowled at him and started to tremble. She stood when he told her to and he slipped her lacy panties down her legs and made her step out of them.

  He took a moment to behold her. Her pussy was shrouded with a thin, sparse layer of soft blond hair. It had been trimmed back to accommodate a bikini. Her belly was flat. Her skin was slightly pinkish. There was a small beauty mark on her right breast just west of her areola.

  “Please don’t,” she said to him softly.

  He looked at her face. He decided that he had heard enough of her voice. He reached into the pocket of his pants and produced a small, blue rubber ball. He examined it for a moment. It was the same ball he had used on that girl. Her name came immediately to mind, although he had spent the last 3 months or so trying to forget it. Carly. He had had such a hard time remembering it when she had been his prisoner, but now it popped into his head every time he thought about her, which was just about every day.

  He looked at the woman. She was blond, just like her. She had had the same unhappy, desperate look when he made her strip for the first time. If she lived another 15 years or so, this could be her, except, perhaps for the oversized breasts. But even if she did live that long, which he doubted, she would hardly be so well maintained.

  He had seen her a few times when a guest over at her new owner’s hacienda. It was clear that the Morales kid, Lorenzo, treasured her ownership. He had offered him the use of her more than once, egging him on as if rubbing his nose in his own loss of her. He had always declined. He hated the feeling that he got when he saw her, naked, the evidence of Lorenzo’s cruelty on her luscious body, watching her callous use by Lorenzo’s compadres. He always left the hacienda as soon as he could.

  Shaking himself from his unhappy reverie, he told the woman to open her mouth. She looked at the ball in his hand and then back up at his face. “You’re not putting that thing in me!” she protested.

  “Listen, cunt,” he told her sharply, menacingly, “if you don’t want all of your pretty, white teeth scattered all over this nice marble floor, you’ll do what I say. And then I’ll put this ball in your mouth anyway. Got it?”

  A tear descended from Darla’s left eye. She knew that he was planning on fucking her and the prospect of him invading her body chilled her. She knew too that she had to do everything that the man said. He didn’t look like the type that would be dissuaded by tears or remonstrance. She just hated the idea of having her voice stifled like that. Gerry had made her use the ball gag once, but she had cursed him out afterwards and had refused to let him do it ever again. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thrown all that junk out. The vibrators were nice when Gerry wasn’t home or on those nights he dropped off to sleep after poking her a few times and dumping his load. But the other stuff she thought disgusting. And now she was all bound up for real and the man wanted to put that dirty blue ball in her mouth that had been in his filthy old pocket for god knew how long. She thought of asking him to wash it off first, but the glare of his evil eyes convinced her that not only would it be fruitless, but that he would punish her for it. After they were married, she had made Gerry pay thousands to get her teeth straight and brilliantly white like they were now. The idea of them being beaten out of her head frightened her to no end.

  Meekly, she spread her lips. The man was standing no more than two feet away from her. He reached out with the ball in his hand and pressed it against her mouth. She hadn’t opened her mouth enough for the ball to go in. The man gave her an angry look and stepped closer to her. He wrapped his free hand behind her head, taking a fistful of her hair, and pressed on it while he jammed the ball against her teeth. She released a moan of unhappiness as the ball popped in.

  Jack looked at the dismal looking woman. She was picture perfect, down to the little patch of blue that divided her upper and lower teeth. Her large breasts hung just right with only a hint of sag and her nipples, almost bright red against her pale white skin, were stiff and thick. Her bound arms pressed her breasts out nicely. And she stood there seemingly unashamed of her displayed, lightly shrouded pussy, her legs spread wide. Darla was right, he was going to fuck her, but only after he cleaned her up a little bit.

  The shower was walk-in. Inside, beyond the expensive, etched glass wall, the stall was plenty big enough for them both to stand in it. Jack took hold of the woman’s hair and pulled her in. They both stood aside as he turned on the water. Darla looked at him with forlornness.

  The shower head was at the end of a long hose, convenient for running the water’s spray all over your body. When the water was hot enough, Jack removed it and, starting at the woman’s waist, ran the water all up and down her thighs and legs. There was a large plastic pump bottle of luxuriant body wash. Jack pumped a large dollop onto his hand and proceeded to rub it all over the woman’s furry coosh.

  The woman issued a little moan while he manipulated it. The soap made it all slippery. He couldn’t resist running his slick fingers the length of her divide, pushing aside her labial lips. It didn’t take long for his finger to be able to easily negotiate the inner surface. When he slid his finger inside her entrance, she whined and her knees did a little
sag. He slid himself in and out a few times, lustfully appreciating the tunnel’s silky softness. He slipped out and gave the nubbin at her pussy’s apex a little rub and the woman, her eyes closed into slits, swayed.

  Hurrying his task, he refreshed his hand with the body wash and did the inside of her thighs and down her shins and feet, making sure that he got in between each toe. He luxuriated in the softness and suppleness of her skin. The woman made muted little moaning sounds, but was otherwise silent. When Jack was done with her feet, he rose and rinsed the woman off.

  Darla appreciated being clean again. Pissing her panties had been a grossly humiliating experience. And the thought of her legs covered with the dried remnants of her wastewater had made her skin crawl. As the man had rubbed her pussy, all over the tender inner portion, poking inside her, her sex had started a little hum. It made her feel a little dizzy. The man’s hands were strong and sure. He really wasn’t bad looking. Mean looking, but not ugly. There was a powerfulness to him that kind of reminded her of her second husband who had driven an over the road rig for an outfit out of Chino. He had been a nuclear force in the sack. He had run off with some 19 year old Tex-Mex gal about 3 years into their marriage and that had been that.

  Gerry had kind of reminded her of him. His problem though was he was good at the start, but he had little finishing power. Don had been able to keep it up all night. But let’s face it, she had not married Gerry for his lovemaking skills. The prenup had guaranteed her 2 million dollars if the marriage lasted 10 years. She was only a couple of years away from her goal. She kinda had the feeling that Gerry knew she was counting the months, if not the days, until she could leave him, but he didn’t seem to mind. She was useful to show off and for an occasional turn in the sack. And she gave great head. That was what Gerry liked most, to receive her oral ministrations, blow his load and nod off. She didn’t mind. That was what the vibrators were for.