Slaver’s Bait
The tenor of Denise’s life with the Turk had been set on her first two days there. She was never allowed to speak, her arms were constantly bound behind her, her face half hidden by the leather mask, its thick leather plug in her mouth. Every morning she would receive a thorough and sensuous massage from the old woman followed by a manual manipulation to orgasm. She would kneel at the dining room table, erect, knees apart, at lunch and dinner while the hulking man who had kidnapped her ate. She would watch as Tamara marched to and fro during the day on her seemingly innumerable and never ending tasks.
Her sessions of love making with the Turk continued to be hot and heavy for both of them. She had learned to patiently, slowly, suck Turk’s cock using only her mouth. His eyes would roll back into his head and he would groan loudly when she finally let him come. She would sit astride him, impaled on his long hard rod of flesh and rock her hips gently until, with a mighty groan, he would discharge himself inside her.
And then, there was the dungeon. He did not take her there frequently, and when he did, he did not beat her as cruelly and with such hateful passion as he had before. But he did beat her. He would leave her bound into tortuous positions, her body stretched so that it imposed its own pain on itself, for hours on end.
After lunch, or while she was chained to the foot of the stairs, or at night, after dinner, when the three other occupants and Denise sat in the living room and listened to music, the Turk would grab her leash and pull her to her feet. Wordlessly he would lead her down the hall. If they turned at the stairs and went up, Denise knew that he had opted for an interval of pleasure with her. If he passed the stairs and headed to the dining room, off of which the door to the cellar ran, her heart would sink, her mouth would go dry. Butterflies would appear in her stomach. He had decided that he would inflict pain on her.
Every afternoon, Tamara would bring her to the sun porch and they would watch the sun go down together. Each time, Tamara would caress her loins until she came, crying out softly at each wave of pleasure. Only once had the old man joined them. Denise had surmised that the presence of the man would forestall her afternoon delight. But it was not so. As usual, Tamara pulled her onto the lap and delved her fingers into Denise’s slit, which was, as usual, wet with anticipation. At first, Denise was mortified to be seen accepting the old woman’s caresses before this old man. However, he watched her with such obvious pleasure and he and the old lady spoke to each other in such pleasant tones, that Denise soon forgot her embarrassment and let the warmth spread from her loins over her body.
As for the Turk, he was still as unsettled as he had been when he decided to abduct Denise. He spent hours wandering through the woods or rowing his canoe on the lake. He would sit at his perch and try to recreate the feelings of that magic kiss. He agonized over the question of whether to keep Denise or not. At the same time, her presence both exacerbated and alleviated his painful longing for Cheryl. The answer to his dilemma came as a result of a phone call from Nora.
Nora ran a ‘specialized’ brothel and slave procurement business deep in the Nevada desert. Turk had kidnapped females for her many times and had spent some considerable time there, using the product. This time Nora had a job for him in Western Massachusetts. It seemed a wife of a very wealthy executive wanted the executive’s young and lovely mistress to disappear. It was one of Nora’s trademark deals. She would get paid on both ends, by the disgruntled wife and by the ultimate buyer. Mexico or Latin America was the usual destination of her captives. Occasionally, she would ship to Asia or Japan. It was really the highest price that prevailed.
Turk figured the job would take three days. He drove off in his van with one of his specialized boxes. Nora would fly in with her small seaplane and pick up the merchandise. She might stay around a day or two for old time’s sake.
While the Turk was gone, life went on as usual at the homestead. With one exception. Denise had known that this time would come eventually. During the afternoon after the Turk left, the old man walked into the Great Hall and saw Denise sitting cross-legged at the foot of the stairs. Tamara was upstairs cleaning. The old man paused for a moment in contemplation and then stepped over to where Denise sat. He unhooked her chain and led her out of the Hall, through a long hallway and then outside the house through a door in the back. He led her to a tiny shack about 30 yards from the house. When they had entered the shack, he turned to Denise and, pressing on her shoulders, forced her to her knees. He undid the mask and withdrew the thick leather gag. He opened his pants and pulled out his large, withered cock. Denis knew what to do.
The young woman patiently massaged the old man’s tool with her lips and tongue. He moaned as he felt her hot tongue lick his shaft and circle around his cock’s bulbous head. It took some time, but the old man finally got hard. Denise was happy that she could please the kindly old man. When he was hard enough, he withdrew from her mouth and had her kneel and bend over on a large stack of bags of mulch. Denise spread her legs willingly and opened herself so that the man’s passage to her cunt would be eased. He pressed the head of his cock against the entrance and slipped inside. He moaned the whole time he was fucking her. He took his time, patiently sawing back and forth. Denise’s blood began to rise at the motion of the man’s large, hot tool. When she felt the old man’s pace begin to quicken, she contracted her pussy muscles as hard as she could, increasing the old man’s pleasure.
When the pair came back inside, Tamara was standing there at the bottom of the stairs waiting for them. Denise felt like a naughty school girl, although she had had really no choice in whether to fuck the old man. He sheepishly reaffixed her leash to the hook by the stairs. The old lady spoke a few words in to him, curtly. The man nodded. Tamara hesitated for a second. Her mouth then turned into a grin, her face beamed. She stepped up to the old man and, curling her hand behind his head kissed him on the cheek. They hugged. Denise had sunk to her knees to await Tamara’s presumed displeasure. Tamara merely smiled at her and patted her on the head. She walked away humming one of her little songs. The old man looked at Denise, shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, Turk’s boat could be heard motoring up to the dock. Tamara rushed into the kitchen to prepare him some food. Denise, who had missed her passionate fucking with the strange, dark man, came to her feet and tried to peer out the window of the Great Hall in an effort to see him. She was affixed to the bottom of the stairs and so could not run to the door. She heard the kitchen door open and the tread of the Turk’s heavy boots. When she saw him enter the great hall, her heart stopped. He was carrying a big black box, the kind that he had imprisoned her in when he kidnapped her. The box, from its weight, was obviously full. Denise quickly fell to her knees. “What does this mean?” she thought to herself. The Turk looked at her sternly and then muscled the box past the stairs and towards the entrance to the dungeon.
He emerged about twenty minutes later. He passed by her without looking and went into the kitchen to eat. She could hear the chair scraping on the stone floor of the kitchen, the clatter of dishes. He talked to the old woman. His voice was sharp and curt. Hers was pleading, soft.
In fact Turk and Tamara were having an argument. Tamara had made the same assumption that Denise had made. She knew better than to confront the Turk head on. This was his house. He ruled here. But she let him know how much she loved her ‘little bird’ as she called Denise, how sweet she was. Turk told her to mind her own business, that he was the judge of who came and went here. He would do what he wanted with the girl. He had no immediate desire to sell Denise. He just didn’t want to commit himself to keeping her. He couldn’t keep her bound and gagged and chained forever, could he?
When Turk left the kitchen after his meal, he grabbed Denise’s leash. To her relief, she was dragged up the stairs after him. But in the event, she was left unconsoled. His lovemaking was harsh, hard. He ploughed her throat cruelly and then had her kneel on the bed, crunched over, so that he could ravish her rear passage. He had no soft caresses for her. There was no quiet, tender interlude. When he was done, he took her leash and ran it under her, between her legs, and fastened it to her bound wrists. She was forced to continue kneeling on the bed, her breasts crushed against her knees, her head forced down. The chain rubbed between her pussy lips, grating against her sore clit each time she tried to move. She stayed that way until Tamara came to relieve her some two hours later.
That night, Denise was taken to the dungeon after dinner. Turk took her into the torture room. She was crying, both in anticipation of the frightful pain she could expect, but also because she had apparently fallen from grace in the cruel man’s eyes. The addition of a new girl undoubtedly signaled the removal of the old. The Turk pulled her over to a steel pole set in the floor and attached the back of her collar to it. The floor near the plate had been covered with a steel plate. Embedded in the plate were large, rounded prongs, about 2″ in circumference and set about 1″ above the surface of the plate, 1″ apart. Turk left the room. It didn’t take long for Denise to discern the precise nature of her torture. The iron bumps drove directly into the soles of her feet. There was no way to stand on them comfortably. She could shift her feet in any direction, roll back on her heels, stand on her toes and she experienced the same dull, throbbing pain in her feet within a few seconds.
The Turk returned with a short, shapely young brunette in tow. Her hair was long and she wore a mask similar to Denise’s. Her eyes were wide with terror. She was nude and her firm, round breasts bounced as she was led into the room. The Turk led her to the center of the room where the chain came down from the ceiling. Denise had taken the whip or the cane here several times. She knew what was in store for the girl. The increasing pain in her feet, however, prevented her from giving her full empathy to the Turk’s new victim.
Turk unfastened the girl’s hands behind her back and fastened them to the chain. He pulled her hands up over her head. He tied her ankles to the ring in the floor.
The girl was visibly trembling. She had dark, tanned skin, presumably from a salon due to the time of the year or perhaps from weekend trips to the Bahamas. Her areolas were dark, her nipples taut with fear.
Turk unlocked the gag around her head and pulled it free. The girl immediately began to plead and beg for her freedom. She had not noticed Denise when she had entered, but she saw her now and uttered a mournful moan. “Oh, God, please mister, please! I’ll do anything you want. I have money! I can get more! Oh, God, what are you going to do to me?”
Turk slapped her across the face. “Shut up!” he yelled at her. The young girl obeyed, her lips trembling, tears flowing down her face. The Turk went to the wall and selected his favorite rattan cane, the same one he had used on Denise. When the girl saw it she went insane. “No! No! No!” she yelled, struggling desperately and futilely at her bonds. “Please don’t whip me. Oh, I couldn’t stand it. Please! Please!”
The Turk let go with a mighty blow of the whip across her tits.
“Ohhhhhhh,!” she cried out. “Oh, God! Oh! That hurts! Please don’t whip me! I’ll do anything you want. Please!”
Turk paid her screaming no mind. Ruthlessly, methodically, he traversed her body with the cane. Across her stomach, the front and rear of her thighs, her ass and her back, and of course, her breasts again. More than twenty blows fell on the girl’s flesh. Her screaming had deflated to a constant low wail by the time the Turk was finished. She was a sweaty, red marked mess. She slumped rather than stood. The Turk put away the cane. Cheryl had watched the girl’s pummeling with astonishment. She knew now why the Turk had whipped her. It was an awesome thing to watch.
The Turk’s manhood tented against his trousers. He knelt down and undid the straps holding the girl’s ankles in place. He pulled them back, attached a spreader bar between them and locked the bar to the floor. He had not lengthened the chains holding the girl’s wrists, and so she had to lean forwards. Her rear jutted out invitingly. The Turk turned around to the front of the girl and jammed the gag back into her mouth. He buckled the mask back into place. In front of the girl, Turk began to remove his clothes. The girl watched incredulously at first, and then began to protest and cry behind her gag. When he was fully disrobed, the Turk reached out and grabbed the young woman’s full and firm breasts. He squeezed them, twisting the nipples. The girl winced in pain. Moving behind the girl, the Turk reached his hand under her and began to manipulate the tender lips of her sex. His cock in one hand, her quim in the other, the Turk stood and watched the young girl pull fruitlessly against her bonds. When she was wet, he presented his rock hard cock for penetration. As he eased himself in, to the girl’s great dismay, he looked at Denise. The new girl was facing Denise and Denise watched as Turk impaled the girl. Their eyes met. Denise could read only the cold hardness of a man who kidnaps and rapes women. Gone was the tenderness she had seen, gone was, or so it seemed, any hope for her.
The Turk pounded away at the girl’s cunt. He had barely registered seeing Denise and she quickly faded from his mind as the pleasures of this new bitch’s cunt went through him. He grabbed her swinging breasts for leverage and he ploughed back and forth into her. She was whining throughout her ordeal. Twice she looked up at Denise, her eyes pleading for help. “I can’t help you,” Denise thought. “I can’t even help myself.”
When the Turk was done, he left both women there. He left the light on so that they could look at each other and benefit from the other’s predicament. When the door slammed shut, Denise began to cry.
About two hours later, Denise was surprised when a tall, young, black haired woman entered the room. She was speaking loudly to ‘the man’ as Denise thought of him. They were not speaking English. The woman wore tight black slacks, matching black boots and a white shirt with frills down the front. Her hair was dark and short.
Nora had arrived just before dark. Her plane had coasted in low over the trees and then landed on the long lake. When the plane was tied off, Nora walked up to the house. She was admitted through the chain link gate by the old man. He hugged and kissed her. Tamara screeched with joy when Nora walked in the door. They hugged and kissed. Tamara pulled her into the kitchen and sat her down at the counter. In a minute a large cup of tea and honey covered pastries were on the counter.
Nora was an old friend of the family’s. She was Turk’s second cousin. She had been close friends with Tamara’s daughter, Fatima. Fatima’s death had torn something in her too. The only men she had any stomach for were the old man, Fatima’s father, and the Turk. She would do anything for the Turk.
The Turk had been out rowing his canoe. He had heard the plane and returned to the house. He got in just as Nora was finishing her tea. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. They said hello in English. Nora’s eyes searched Turk’s. “Oh, you’ve got it bad,” she said, still in English.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he replied. “Auntie,” he said in Turkish as he addressed Tamara, “Nora will stay for dinner and until after lunch tomorrow. Please have her bedroom ready.”
Nora snuggled up to the Turk. “I’d rather sleep with you, Turk.” Even she had abandoned use of his given name.
“Cut the crap. Let me show you the goods.”
So when Nora walked into the dungeon, Turk was right behind her. She paused at the frightened new girl, feeling her tits and her thighs. She noticed the dried sperm on her thighs and smiled. She spoke in Turkish. “Couldn’t wait, eh?” she said jokingly.
“It’s good to get them going right away,” the Turk answered. “Besides, I was horny.”
“Okay, okay,” Nora replied. She looked over at the distraught Denise. While the new girl’s aches and pains subsided, Denise’s had grown. The aching in her feet had grown close to unbearable. She had tried every combination of placement of her feet. She begged the Turk with her eyes to release her.
“She looks a bit uncomfortable, Turk,” Nora said. Denise did not understand the words, but she knew that the woman was talking about her. Was this her new owner?
“So?” Turk replied.
“So, I just thought I’d mention it,” Nora said. She reached out and stroked Denise’s breasts. She cupped them in her hands and squeezed them gently. She rubbed the nipple with her thumbs, testing their responsiveness. She ran her hands along the young girl’s back, over her ass and down her thighs. In English she spoke to Denise, “Spread your legs, dearie.”
Denise was taken aback by the sudden switch to English, but obediently complied, although moving her feet was agony. Nora ran her hands along the inside of Denise’s thighs. She rubbed against the delicate cunt lips and tickled the little nub of flesh at the apex. Nora was an expert at female flesh. She had peddled enough of it. She knew her way around a cunt and soon had Denise lubricated and moaning.
“Maybe I’ll sleep with her tonight,” Nora teased the Turk.
The Turk, who had been watching, replied, “Suit yourself.”
“I’d get her out of this if you want her to be able to walk,” Nora told him.
“Okay, okay,” the Turk answered. “So, get her out.”
Nora unleashed Denise from the pole and pulled her off of the steel plate. She was escorted from the room. The new girl, whose calves were burning from the effort of leaning forwards for two hours, pleaded to be released. Her voice was just a mumble. The Turk turned out the light and shut the door.
Later, at dinner, Denise knelt at her usual station. She had her eyes fixed on the Turk while he ate, trying to find any hint of her fate. She realized that she had become complacent over the last few weeks. She had even, at times, forgotten that she was a kidnapped prisoner here, at the mercy of her chief tormentor. Her body craved his touch, the hardness of his manhood as it filled her. Yet, she was remembering, he was the enemy. He had kidnapped and tortured her. He could destroy her at will. He could even sell her body to some other cruel, hateful master and perhaps already had.
But she didn’t want another master. Would another master caress her so tenderly? Would there be anyone like the old woman, whose lunacy seemed almost natural? Denise, for the first time since her first day here, feared for her future. If only she could convince him to keep her! So she knelt, her back straight, her breasts thrust out, awaiting her master’s pleasure.
After she had eaten from her bowl in the kitchen, the old lady had brought her to the living room where the Turk, the young woman and the old man sat. Denise was worried at the muted demeanor of the old lady. It gave credence to her own feelings of impending doom.
Before she had a chance to kneel at the Turk’s side, the young woman rose from her seat and took her leash from Tamara’s hands. She said something teasingly to Turk and then led Denise out of the room and up the stairs.
The guest bedroom was across the hall from the Turk’s room. Nora led Denise over to the bed, a wide, long bed with a white cotton bedspread. Nora pulled back the covers and urged Denise into it. She went to the bathroom and emerged in the process of removing her blouse. She wore a light, white, under wire bra underneath and she removed it, releasing her pale white breasts. She shucked off her slacks and panties and then sat on the bed.
Nora was far from bashful when it came to women’s bodies. She ran her hand over Denise’s stomach as she seized a nipple with her mouth. She gave the nipple a long, soothing kiss as she tenderly separated the delicate lips below. Denise, disconcerted by this woman’s amorous intent, spread her legs obediently nonetheless. She closed her eyes and let the moist lips and the practiced hand impassion her. Nora turned her oral attention to Denise’s other breast. The young girl’s cunt was moistened now and loose. Nora plunged her fingers inside and made Denise gasp. She felt the hand leave her pussy and then the back of her mask being loosened. The gag was removed and the young woman’s tongue was thrust into her mouth.
Denise had never experimented with lesbian sex and had never had another woman touch her private places since she was a child. She had been shocked at first at Tamara’s advances, but the sweetness and affection that seemed to prompt them made them seem natural. But this was the real thing. A woman was kissing her, rubbing her breasts against hers, insinuating her leg between her thighs. But something inside of her told her that whatever she had believed about sex, its ‘right’ usages, the appropriate circumstances for lust, was useless now. Sex was imposed on her and she could either enjoy it or burn. She would rather enjoy it. She began to kiss the woman back. She clenched Nora’s thigh with hers. Nora returned her hand to Denise’s sex and pulled and prodded at the point of pleasure at the top. She slid her fingers into the moist crevasse and stroked the roof. Denise was gasping in pleasure, pressing her lips to Nora’s. She began to thrust her hips, bucking at the hand that was driving her lust. When she came, she moaned into Nora’s mouth while she squeezed the hand that pleasured her with her thighs.
Nora whispered in her ear, “Say ‘thank you’, slut.”
Denise hesitated. This woman was asking her, ordering her, to break one of the cardinal rules. She couldn’t make the words come out. Nora rubbed Denise’s still moist cunt with her hand, sending a reverberation of her passion through her body.
“Say ‘thank you’, cunt,” she repeated.
The voice was more emphatic. Tears came to Denise’s eyes. In a hushed, small voice she replied, “My mouth is made for fucking.”
Nora looked up at her and smiled. She was familiar with Turk’s practices. But this was her night with the girl, not his. “Not tonight it’s not. Now, thank me.”
“Th-thank you,” Denise stuttered.
“There, that was easy,” Nora continued. She played with Denise’s breast, flicking the nipple with her finger. “Have you ever sucked on a woman’s tit?” she asked the captive woman.
“No,” Denise replied meekly.
“That’s ‘No, Mistress’.”
“No, Mistress.”
“Well tonight you’re going to get your start,” Nora told her.
Nora sat up and leaned against the pillows. She pulled Denise after her. Denise knelt next to the other woman, her shoulders bent, leaning over her. Nora grabbed her own breast. It more than filled her hand. She lifted it, proffering its nipple to Denise. “Kiss my nipple,” she ordered.
Tentatively, Denise placed her mouth on the stiff nubbin of flesh. She was surprised by the pleasant feeling it gave her. Now she understood why men liked it so much. She swirled her tongue over the areola, drawing a sigh from the black haired girl. “And now the other,” Nora instructed her.
She lifted her other breast to Denise’s lips and let her mouth encircle it. Denise sucked on the teat gently, grabbing the nipple with her lips, flicking it with her tongue. It was easy. Just do the things that you like to have done to you. When Nora moaned, Denise engulfed the whole top of her breast, filling her mouth with it.
Nora wanted more. She leaned up and reached behind Denise, unlocking her bracelets. “Caress my cunt,” she ordered.
Denise, grateful for the use of her hands, placed one lightly on Nora’s sex. She was surprised at its warmth. She felt the slippery lubrication leaking from between the engorged lips. She parted them and stroked the length of the slit, delving slightly into its interior. “Oh, yes!” Nora exclaimed. She was a woman of unreserved passion. For her, there was no reason to hold back anything, especially lust. She had had the free use of women’s bodies for many years and daily took pleasure from them. “Rub my clit!” she told Denise.
The slave girl placed two of her fingers on the hard button and rubbed it gently. Nora sighed and leaned back, letting her blood rise. She rocked her hips gently in time with Denise’s fingers. Denise was still licking at Nora’s breasts when Nora rubbed Denise’s cheek with her hand. “Lick my cunt, slave girl. Put you lips on it.”
Denise had no thought of disobedience of Nora’s order. She leaned over and positioned herself kneeling between Nora’s thighs. The aroma of Nora’s juices was overpowering. She was caught up in Nora’s feverish passion. As she opened her mouth and placed her lips on the center of Nora’s pleasure, she thought to herself, surprised, “I want to do this. I want to do this.”
And she did. She ran her tongue down the entrance to Nora’s sheath and plunged it inside. She reveled in the fumes, the taste. She grabbed Nora’s hips and she began to lap at the flushed gash. Nora’s hips were bucking now. She had grabbed Denise’s head. “Suck my clit!” she yelled. “Suck it now!”
Denise captured the little man and sucked on it readily. Nora moaned and rocked her hips. Her hands tightened on Denise’s head as waves of release poured through her. “Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!” she cried.
When her orgasms abated, Nora took Denise in her arms. She ran her hand over Denise’s breast and kissed her lips. “Now say, ‘thank you Mistress’,” she instructed.
“Thank you, Mistress,” Denise whispered.
The women lay there together for some time. Denise felt Nora’s hand run down her thigh. She placed her lips in the crux of Denise’s neck and kissed it, sucking on the skin gently. Denise was emboldened. “May I speak, Mistress?” she asked.
“What, slut?” Nora whispered back.
Denise hesitated, her eyes brimming with tears. “Are you going to take me away?” she asked in a low, meek voice.
Nora looked at her. “Is that what you thought?” She laughed. “No, I’ve come for the other one. The bitch in the basement.” Nora laughed again. “Do you want me to take you?” she asked.
“No,” Denise answered unhesitatingly. “But if I’m to be sold, sent away, I would like it to be someone like you.” She was crying now, all of the fear of the last several hours released. But the edge was still there. She realized, as did the Turk, that the present idyll couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, she would be shipped off to some whorehouse or to some pig somewhere who would abuse her and torture her and not care for her one bit.
“I’m a harsh mistress, slut. I would whip you. I might whip you tomorrow before I leave,” Nora told her.
“It would be worth it if you would kiss me like you did before,” Denise replied earnestly. Nora smiled. She wiped a tear from Denise’s face.
“Shut up, slut,” she said tenderly. “Time for sleep.” She reached over and recovered Denise’s mask from the side of the bed. She kissed the slave girl’s lips gently and then pressed home the gag. After buckling the mask behind her head, she had Denise lie down so that she could fasten her wrists together. She rolled her over to her side so that she was facing her and kissed her breasts. “Goodnight, slut,” she said softly.
In the morning, Tamara was waiting in a chair outside of the guest room. She was fast asleep. Nora shook her gently and she awoke. Her eyes melted when she saw Denise. She took the chain from Nora’s hands and led her downstairs for her ablutions. Nora had showered and changed when she awoke. Gone was the tender lover of the night before and back was the callous slaver. Wearing her cold exterior, she descended the stairs and went to the kitchen for breakfast. Turk was seated there, drinking coffee. Nora poured herself a cup from a pot on the stove and spoke to Turk in English.
“So that’s the sister,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes,” Turk answered, “that’s the sister.”
“She’s quite a catch. The sister must be something else.”
“Nora,” the Turk turned to look at her and said, his voice fatalistic, “it’s driving me crazy. I’ve got to do something.”
“But what, Turk? You don’t even know where she is.”
“No, but there’s not a lot of people who can afford what we sell and fewer who have a place that they can keep them when they’re sold.”
“Well…,” Nora said, sipping her black coffee.
“Well, what?” Turk demanded.
“It’s just a thought, just an idea.”
“Okay, what is it?” Turk asked.
“What if you could narrow down the list of people who might be interested in a certain type of girl? Then the universe of possible buyers becomes even smaller.”
“Come on, Nora,” Turk complained. “How many people wouldn’t be interested in a buxom, young beauty. Do you mean cut out all the buyers who don’t like blondes?”
“No, you’re thinking about it all wrong,” Nora replied. “If you can’t reduce the pool of buyers, you can heighten the interest of a special few, even to just one person.”
“And?” Turk questioned.
“And how many people are in the market for sisters?”
“Sisters?” he asked.
“Yes, dimwit. The same reason that drew you to this Denise will be the same thing that would draw out Cheryl’s buyer,” Nora said. “We could fix the box with a GPS device and track it, no problem. ‘I know a guy,’ as they say.”
“I’ve got to think about this. I could lose them both.”
“Yes or win them both. Do you really want your life to go on like this? You’re practically useless. Anyway, where’s your sense of daring?” Nora asked.
“I’d need help.”
“Help I can give.”
Nora left just before dark. She needed enough light to clear the lake, but didn’t want to attract too much attention to herself during the day when nosy park rangers might record her plane registration. She had gassed up on the way in and could make it back to a small strip she used in Nevada in a few hours.
The new girl had been packed up into the box. She had begged and pleaded again, as they all do, but Turk knew his business and she was back in without too much trouble. Turk had made her suck his cock first. Well, she said she’d do anything.
Nora would call Turk in a couple of days, when she could get the equipment for the GPS. Turk had to build a false bottomed box to hide it in. They agreed that they’d be ready in a week.
They also agreed that they needed a third man. Lenny was the only one they could think of. Turk didn’t like the idea of having his life depend on Lenny. Lenny, a mouse like, skeevy kind of guy, had helped Turk put the lock on a girl a month or so ago outside of Tulsa. He had done okay. Usually Turk worked alone so there wasn’t really anyone they could get on short notice that he felt he could work with. Lenny was a weasel, but he got the job done.
They would need to plan quickly once they found out where Denise had been shipped. It was a big gamble. Maybe the party that bought Cheryl wouldn’t buy Denise. Maybe she’d be taken out of the box long before she reached her destination. Maybe he would get caught trying to get the two of them out. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The Turk pretty much stayed away from Denise for the next few days. He had betrayed many women, sold them into living hells, but never someone he had gotten to know. He had never kept a girl here for more than a few days before. Even though she had not been permitted speech, Turk felt a bond between himself and this woman. He felt a responsibility to Cheryl, because Denise was her sister. He knew that Tamara would be crushed when he told her that Denise had been sold. His only hope of redemption would be to retrieve her.
On the night before the event, the Turk made long, passionate love to Denise. He did not say a word to her, but he caressed her tenderly and stroked her lovingly with his cock. He knelt between her legs and pleasured her, making her come three times. He could not bring himself to keep her for the night. When Tamara came to take her downstairs, he sat on his bed and hung his head.
In the morning Nora arrived with the GPS system. In the plane with her was Lenny. Turk had no intention of letting Lenny anywhere near Denise. It was a pity they hadn’t kept the other girl around. But Lenny would just have to keep it in his pants.
After they had checked out the GPS equipment and installed it in the carrying box, it was time to make Denise’s tape. It was decided that Nora would make the tape. She had brought an appropriate dress for the girl, a short ruffled red skirt with a spaghetti strap top. Nora had also brought a pair of red high heels for her. The tape would be broadcast at 10 o’clock that night. Denise would have to be packaged for transport immediately after the winning bid had been made.
All week long, Denise had felt that something was wrong. The man would not even look at her. Tamara had taken to singing only sad, maudlin songs. There was a special warmth in her hugs and kisses and a certain determination to maximize her pleasure when she manipulated Denise to climax.
Today, Tamara had orders to keep Denise down in her cell after her bath. Denise was surprised at being left downstairs. She, of course, could not inquire of the reason, but she nervously awaited the day’s developments, alone, her legs strapped together, lying face down on her pallet. Without noise or other distractions, the day passed very slowly.
Nora and Lenny sat down with the family for lunch. Denise’s would be brought down to her later. Tamara took an instant dislike to Lenny. She cursed him in Turkish. Lenny, oblivious to this, kept on asking Turk when he would get paid and negotiating for an increase.
“A quarter million is a lot of dough, yeah,” Lenny said in his nasal twang. “But if you’re dead, you can’t spend it. I mean, I’ll be taking some real chances here. I don’t know what your scam is but I’m sure its worth a lot more than a quarter mil. I want at least another hundred grand.”
Turk told Lenny for the third time, “Listen, there’s no scam here. We’re going to get a girl, that’s all. We’ve done it dozens and dozens of times. It’s just that this time we gotta go a long way.”
“And you don’t know where you’re going yet,” Lenny retorted. “I mean, lets get real. How can that be?”
Nora butted in. “Listen, Lenny. All you gotta do is your part.”
“Yeah?” he responded. “And how much are you getting paid? I’ll bet its lots more than a quarter mil. I mean who’d fly clear across the globe for chickenshit money?”
“I told you, I’m not getting paid anything,” Nora reminded him.
Turk interrupted their dialogue. “Okay, Lenny, I’ll up it another $50, 000. I’ll wire half to your account tonight before we go. I’ll wire the other half when the job’s done.”
“No good,” said Lenny. He knew when he was in the driver’s seat. “I want to get the other half when we get to wherever we’re going. If you get caught, I don’t want to be sucking wind.”
The Turk paused to consider. Lenny held the hammer. If he didn’t go, the job would be immensely more difficult. They didn’t even know where they were going. They would have to make up a plan on the fly. Nora would have a plane ready for their getaway. Lenny would have to be there to help with arrangements on the ground. If he gave Lenny the balance of the money when they got there, there would be a risk that he would walk away. But Turk would have to take that risk; he would rely on his fierce reputation. If Lenny punked out on them, he would hunt him down to the ends of the earth, and Lenny knew that.
“Okay, Lenny,” he said finally. “You win. But that’s it. No more bullshit, got it?” It wasn’t the money. Turk would have paid him much more if he thought it would do any good. The more he paid, the greater Lenny’s greed would grow. It was better to keep the price reasonably low, for safety’s sake.
“Sure, Turk, sure,” Lenny replied. Smiling, he dug into the hot stew that Tamara had served.
Nora went down to the dungeon around three o’clock. They wanted plenty of time to make the tape so that it came out right. They didn’t want Denise to know that she was being sold and they especially didn’t want her to know anything about the scheme to rescue her sister. If there was a fuck up, she would know nothing.
A basic routine was worked out for her. She would strip and answer a few questions. Although she might guess at the purpose of the video, ‘maximum deniability’ was to be maintained until the bitter end.
Nora had a dark cloth draped over the wall in the hallway outside Denise’s cell. The girl was lying in there bound and strapped. Tamara had fed her her lunch hours ago. She would not eat solid food again until she arrived wherever it was that she was going.
Once the camera had been set up, Nora went into Denise’s cell and freed her from her bonds, removing even the mask, the gag and her bracelets and collar. Denise watched, mesmerized as her confinements were removed. When she saw the dress, she started to cry. Something terrible was happening. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew that it could not be good.
Nora tried to comfort her. “Stop crying, slut,” she teased her. “You’d think that you never saw a hot dress before.”
Denise summoned the courage to talk. “But what’s happening?”
“We’re going to make a little movie, that’s all,” Nora replied.
“But why have I been locked up here all day?” the frightened girl asked, her voice on the verge of cracking.
“There’s someone upstairs that the man doesn’t want you to see. That’s all. Just put on the dress.” Nora’s tone deepened. “Or would you like a whipping?”
“No,” the girl answered timidly. The dress fit her perfectly. Her straw blond hair was set off nicely by the dark red dress. Nora took Denise into the large bathroom and did up her face. She wore a dark mascara and ruby red lipstick. She looked beautiful. The only problem was that her eyes kept filling up with tears. She knew that Nora was lying.
The routine they had worked out was rather simple. Nora had her run through it a couple of times and then was ready to shoot. The clip opened with a long shot of Denise. It closed to her face and ran over her body. It paused to mark the swell of her bosom and the gracefulness of her hips. When done, the camera pulled back and Nora asked Denise a few questions.
“What’s your name?”
“Denise,” the girl answered, almost demurely. There was fear in her face, as there should be, would be, if she had just been abducted. Her eyes were moistening.
“And are you a slut, Denise?” Nora asked.
“Yes, I’m a slut,” the trembling girl returned.
“What kind of a slut are you Denise?”
“I’m a cocksucking slut,” she said, dolefully.
“Take off the dress and show us your body, slut.”
Denise shuffled the straps from her shoulders. The bodice fell down immediately, showing her firm round breasts. Tamara had applied a light rouge to the aureoles so that they stood out. As she had been instructed, she held them out for the camera. She turned around and wriggled out of the rest of the dress. Her taut, pale, rear globes were shown to the camera. Denise turned slowly until she was facing the camera again.
“Show us your cunt, slut,” Nora commanded her.
Denise spread her legs and pulled the lips of her sex apart, revealing the glistening inner lips and the tender hole. The camera zoomed in. After lingering there, it pulled back. The last shot, the one that would be frozen before the bidders as they contemplated her purchase, would be of Denise holding her twat open, an invitation to all comers.
Afterwards, Denise allowed herself to be led back into her cell. Nora replaced the bracelets around her wrists and locked them behind her back. After she had replaced the collar and was about to insert the gag into Denise’s mouth, Denise risked another question.
“Please, what is the tape for, Mistress?” she asked. She was barely holding back her tears.
Nora tried to brush off the question. “Never mind your silly head about it. Open your mouth.”
“Please kiss me,” Denise asked timidly. Nora stopped momentarily. She placed her lips on Denise’s and kissed her firmly. She ran her tongue into her mouth and held the girl tight. Denise melted in her arms. When their lips broke apart, Denise murmured, “Thank you.” The gag was inserted and she was silenced.
The video was sent out onto the Internet at exactly 10 P. M. The Turk had done a voiceover explaining who Denise was and all about her sister Cheryl. A picture of Cheryl in her black cocktail dress had been included in the transmission. One hour later, the time for the closing of bids, the Turk received an email that Denise had been sold for €330, 500 euros, or a little over $422, 000 dollars. His share would be 65% of that. He was instructed to drop her off at a little storefront in Boston in ten hours. That was just enough time for Lenny and Nora to fly to Logan airport in the morning and pick the Turk up. They would fly to New York to await developments.
It was decided that it would be easiest if Denise was brought upstairs so that the box, which contained delicate equipment, would not have to be hoisted up the stairs. That was another worry, whether the GPS equipment would survive transport. But it was a gamble they would have to take.
Nora went down to get the girl. Tamara had refused to participate. She screamed an epithet at the Turk and marched up the stairs. The old man made himself scarce.
When Denise saw Nora, her stomach began to turn. She had been lying on her pallet, confined in her chains and straps most of the day. She sensed that whatever had been going on that day, whatever fate had in store for her, now she would find out. She hoped and prayed that it was not what she thought.
As she stepped into the Great Hall, Denise saw the Turk standing there sullenly. Her eyes caught Lenny, who was ogling her with undisguised lust. Then she saw the disassembled black case on the floor. She made a moan and her knees gave out. Nora had to catch her before she fell. She guided her body to the floor. The Turk wordlessly carried her to where the base of the box had been laid out and placed her on it. While Denise sobbed, Turk affixed her ankles to the bottom of the box. He removed her bracelets and after taping the wrists, her palms pressed together, he slipped the black glove over her joined hands. He removed the steel collar. The hood was next and could not be applied without removing the gag. This was the part that the Turk dreaded.
Denise had swooned when she saw the familiar black box. All of her fears had come true. She had been sold, probably to that scurvy looking man she had seen when she entered the room. She listlessly allowed the Turk to carry her over to the base of the box. She was too stunned to fight him when he locked up her arms behind her. She looked up as the gag was removed from her mouth. She had stopped sobbing now. There was a silent pause. She looked around the room. Everyone was looking at her. The moment was too real, too frightening to be really happening. After a moment, Turk began to apply the hood that Denise would wear for however long it took her to get where she was going. As the hood was placed over her hair, Denise desperately waved her head back and forth to avoid it.
“Please, please, don’t send me away, please!” she begged, her frantic voice echoing through the vast room. “I don’t want to be sold. I want to stay! Oh, please, please don’t do this to me, please!”
The Turk struggled, but he was able to pull the hood over Denise’s head. As he pulled it into place, Denise’s eyes were covered by small pads built into it. All that was left was the mask that would silence her and complete the suppression of her individuality.
Denise continued her supplications. She was blinded now by the hood, and she screamed her pitiful pleas into the darkness around her. “I’ll do anything that you want! I want to be with you! You can whip me! Please don’t send me away! I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please, please don’t do this!”
The Turk knelt in front of the frantic girl. He grabbed her cheeks with one hand and held her head steady. The effort silenced her. She sniffled and moaned. The Turk addressed her. He steeled himself for what he had to do. “You must open your mouth and accept the gag. There is no use fighting it. It’s going in one way or another. I don’t want to hurt you. So open your mouth.”
Denise made a nodding motion with her sightless head. She would acquiesce. All hope of redemption was lost. The man was right, there was no use fighting it. He had betrayed her and that was that.
The Turk slid the gag in easily. He placed the tubes in Denise’s nose and through the gag into her mouth. These were for breathing and feeding. A pad was strapped around her loins to accept her urine. A plug went into her ass. The straps were all tied down, securing the now voiceless and sightless prisoner. All that could be seen of her was the pale, white skin of her back and buttocks as the top of the box was applied. When it was secured, Turk and Nora stood there silently watching it. After a few moments, Lenny broke the now tranquil scene.
“Okay, then,” he said. “I’m going to bed.” He marched up the stairs. The Turk took one last look at Nora and then turned to roll the box to the doorway where he would take it to his boat for the ride across the lake. Denise’s voyage had begun.
* * *