Klitzman's Predators Book One Read online

  Draco shut the van doors as we stepped out and waived me and Florez towards the driver's compartment. "Get going. And take it easy."

  About two hours later we were pulling in to the driveway of the split level ranch. It sat on about ten acres of wooded land. Even though it was winter, the evergreens largely hid the house from view from the road. As we pulled in the driveway Florez activated the automatic garage door opener. The van pulled into the garage and came to a stop. Florez waited for the door behind him to close before getting out. I followed suit and then swung into the back and retrieved our cargo from the side compartment.

  The girl was still limp and lifting the bodybag was awkward. However Florez and I swiftly carried the bag from the van and into the house through a door which communicated with the house. As we crossed the threshold I saw Estelle holding the door for us, gazing curiously at our burden.

  "Well, a nice day's work I see."

  "Yeah," I said, "a nice day's work. One more for the collection. Open the cellar door."

  Estelle opened the cellar door and led the way down the short set of stairs. At the bottom was the steel cased door with a deadbolt attached. Estelle pulled out the key and turned the lock. The three of us passed in. The room was dark as pitch black coal, lit only by the column of light which entered through the door which had been just opened. Estelle flicked on a light switch by the door as Florez and I passed into the room.

  Florez and I carried our package over to the first empty mattress and placed it on the floor gently. I unzipped it and Florez and I removed the body inside. Quickly, we unchained her hands from behind her and attached them to the ring at the head of the mattress. Estelle had grabbed her legs and, after affixing the confining anklets to them, clipped them onto the rings on the floor. We all stood momentarily admiring the fine, tanned body displayed beneath us, as the young girl moaned slightly, apparently coming out of the drug induced stupor in which she had made the trip to our little hideaway.

  "Yes, a nice day's work," Estelle said quietly. "Very nice indeed. Here, help me with the hood." She spoke to Florez. Florez grinned.

  "My pleasure. I didn't get a chance to get a good look at this baby yet. I like to see what our merchandise looks like so I can put in my reservation when we get to the island." He chuckled.

  Estelle pulled off the hood which Nicky had placed on the girl in the car while Florez held her head up off of the mattress. "Oh, what a pretty one," he said. "Waking up now, my pretty one?"

  The girl was stirring, her eyes slowly focusing on the leering face above her. Her body stiffened suddenly as her mind registered what her senses were taking in. The gag suppressed her gasp as Florez's hands pulled her face close to his. Her eyes, wide now, fixed on Florez's face. Florez, keeping one hand behind her head, slowly drew the other across her neck, down to her breasts, stopping briefly to gently test their firmness, and then descended to her belly and the mound between her thighs. "Oh, yes, I'll be seeing more of you," Florez whispered to the girl menacingly. "We'll do a little dance together, chiquita, a long, slow one."

  "Come on now, cut the play. I've got to get this one bedded down and out for the night. You know the rules." Estelle kicked gently at Florez who was now probing the girl's loins, grinning, devouring the girl with his eyes. Florez looked up at Estelle.

  "Sure honey, I'll play by the rules. I can't help myself.” He laughed as he withdrew his hand from the girl's pussy, and lifted her head so that Estelle could place a new hood over her face. The new hood differed from the one Draco had given Nicky in the limo in that it was heavily padded, but with a mesh over the face by the mouth and nose. Clearly, the hood was to prevent the girl from damaging herself by banging her head against the wall or floor, assuming she could reach it. The mesh ensured that her breathing would not be cut off.

  Having replaced the hood, Estelle produced a small object from the pocket of her skirt and, tearing off its cover, knelt down next to the girl. She gently parted the lips of the girl’s vagina and inserted the object inside. She looked up at me as she pushed her finger deep inside the struggling form on the bed. "Suppository," she said. "Keeps them very mellow."

  I looked over at the other forms on the floor. Mellow was the word. The five other females were lying quietly on their mattresses, an occasional moan the only sound. Yes, mellow was the word. These creatures should be thrashing and screaming, imprisoned in a nightmare, at the most days before, free and unfettered, their lives and their bodies their own. But now, confined, stolen, their ultimate fate unknown to them, panic and fear the only emotions which would suit what their minds could fathom of what had happened, what was happening to them. Mellow, yeah, for now, but they would need to learn another state of mind soon, obedience, instant, reflexive, unquestioning obedience.

  I looked around the room. Two mattresses down from the new girl I saw the girl we had boosted from her own apartment a couple of nights ago. I could see it was her from her well muscled body and the blond pubic hairs. No mistaking that body. Two days in chains. Mellow, yes, and an unwitting kindness, as these girls awaited their fates. Estelle rose from the floor and motioned us out of the room. As we passed through the door, her arm swept the light switch off and darkness and silence again invaded the below ground prison. The last sounds the chained and drugged women would hear, other than their own stifled moans and pleas, was the slam of the door, the rattle of the lock as the bolt was shot home.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MARA’S SURRENDER

  After that episode I felt totally at Nicky’s mercy. I did not want to live without the thrill he gave me, the electric charge of danger and the unknown. Since that night, he regularly kept me tied and/or gagged while he cooked, showered or even slept. One night he left me hogtied in the middle of the living room all night while he went out to god knows where. His attitude was different, colder, more aloof than he had been even before. I felt him slipping away from me. I was desperate at the thought that he would leave me. Each time he entered my apartment, I thrilled anew at his presence. Each time he was late, or even those few nights that he did not come, I spent my time agonizing, praying that I had not seen him for the last time.

  And so finally the day came when he called and told me we were going downtown to a little Italian restaurant I had never been to before. He had called me at work. My vacation was just starting. He had told me to take it, no explanation offered, none demanded. He wanted me, that's all I knew. I assumed we would go away. In my mind, I imagined two weeks of intense pleasure and yes, pain. Nicky had not struck me again since that first night, but I knew that a barrier had been broken. I could see in my mind the satisfaction on his face that night when he had slapped me. I didn’t care. I had truly never felt so alive before, so excited. I was living on a razor’s edge and I loved it.

  I had packed my bag on his instructions the night before. We would meet at my apartment after work. At work I just told them I was going away for two weeks, "going on the road" I called it, away from phones, bosses and clients. I hadn't told anyone about Nicky, his shadowy existence stifled the usual girl talk. I knew that my focus on Nicky and our sexuality was fragile, could dissipate at a moment's notice, one word of alarm from a friend, one wide eyed look from a coworker, would be all that was needed to burst this fantastic bubble. And, most importantly, I hadn't talked about Nicky because he had told me not to.

  When I got home, I showered and perfumed myself, as he liked. I dressed nervously. Nicky had asked that I dress simply, but elegantly, that we were to meet some of his friends.

  I feared this and wanted it. Nicky's friends, who would they turn out to be? Why did he want me to meet them? Why, on the cusp of my vacation, were we breaking our routine, going out, meeting people. With trembling hands I put on my sapphire earrings, matching watch, and golden bracelet, all remnants of a woman I used to be. A black, short dress, simple, revealing. I brushed my long blonde hair, penciled in my eyeliner and lipstick, perfumed my neck, between my breasts and hands. I dabbed a little at the top of my thighs. Nicky had bought it. He liked to smell it on me, on my intimate parts, my breasts, my vulva, my thighs. Slipping on my nylons, I was ready. Nicky had told me to meet him downstairs. I left my bags in the apartment. I figured that we would either stop by and pick it up after dinner or sleep there and leave in the morning. Nicky hadn’t told me more than to be ready.

  We were picked up by a long, black limousine. It drove us to Little Italy and let us out in front of the restaurant. Nicky’s friends were already inside.

  The dinner was long, leisurely. The three men, Nicky and his friends, Harry and Draco he called them, spoke of business, vague affairs, savoring their meals and, I could see, me. I sat next to the one called Harry, across from Draco, on Nicky's left. More than once I felt their eyes piercing me, cutting through me, while I, frightened, lost, had eyes only for Nicky. After dinner, as he spoke to me, my stomach, although full, wrenched as if empty. Yes, I did love him. Yes I would do anything for him. Why did he have to ask? Why did I have to make these declarations before these two dark and threatening men?

  Yes, I told him, I was his without reservation, Yes I would prove it if he demanded it. Here? Now? How? Why? I wasn't to be told. Later, I guessed, I would be shown. It was now or never. No don't leave me Nicky, don't abandon me, I need you, I'll die for you, do anything. All these things raced through my mind. My mouth was as dry as a hot box, sweat running down my ribs, perspiration across my brow. Harry and Draco staring at me, awaiting my declaration. Clearly, this involved these men. What this meant to Nicky I didn't know. But he couldn't leave me, he mustn't. I couldn't live without him.

  Finally I was able to squeak out a reply. "Yes, Nicky, I'll be yours, whatever you want. Just don't leave me, don't do that please. I couldn't bear it."

  The tension around the table was broken, Nicky was beaming at me, his arm draped across my shoulders, he kissed me. Somehow, I knew I was lost.

  The next part seems all of a blur. We were in the limo, speeding uptown. Draco was talking, Nicky caressing me. I was to go with them. Where? Why? For how long? Questions I knew I should ask. But questions I knew I couldn't. I had surrendered myself to Nicky and his will. Whatever was asked, whatever demanded, in his name, I would do.

  Suddenly the limo pulled to a stop. Surrender, an act of surrender was demanded. What would that be? Disrobe, undress, needless to say, of course, I had done this for Nicky a hundred times, but these men....

  I was not a virgin when I met Nicky, far from it. I had undressed before a dozen lovers over the years since I had turned old enough to vote. But never before more than a single man at a time. Never before anyone who gazed at me with such cruel and cold eyes as these friends of Nicky's. Yes, I hesitated, yes, I tried to negotiate, press for advantage, would he really make me do it, did he really mean it? Nicky's tone told me that he did. What choice did I have?

  It was the shorter man, Draco, who explained it. I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked at Nicky. If I said no, this would be the last time I saw him. My entire being revolted at such a possibility. I looked at the two strange men. I was going to go with them. They would turn me into Nicky’s whore. I wanted to be his whore, more than anything else in the world. If surrendering to these men meant that I would achieve that, I would do it.

  After I expressed my timid consent, I was told to take off my clothes.

  When I was naked, my clothes taken from me, my jewelry stripped from me, I knelt on the floor of the car, Nicky on my left, the two strangers on my right. Something was handed to Nicky, my hands pulled behind me, my breasts thrust out. Nicky leaned over. As he put it on me, the mean looking one, Draco, said "With this collar you are enslaved."

  Enslaved? A bolt of panic struck through me. I looked around at the hard faces of the three men. What was happening to me? He had placed a thick leather collar around my neck. I couldn't see it, but its roughness scratched at my skin, my throat, tensed, constricted.

  Nicky leaned over again, embracing me. I felt my hands behind me being drawn together, tied, joined as my nipples pressed against his suit, my breasts crushed, my thighs tight against his. Still, I didn't struggle. How could I? Nicky wanted this. I loved Nicky. I wanted this too. He kissed me. I drank in his kiss like a woman dying of thirst. I needed to feel this anchor while the rest of me was slipping away. The fire lit in me as always, through my insides to my loins. My hands squirmed, unused to bindings, wanting to return the caress, to bring my body even closer to Nicky's. Suddenly, he pulled back.

  It was then I felt myself, drifting, dizzy, floating away from one world into another. I was to be a slave. A slave, owned by Nicky, not what I had dreamed of, not what I had wanted. But Nicky's love, yes, that was what I wanted. But at what price? That decision had been made. Trembling, not fully believing what my senses told me was happening, I told Nicky I loved him. My hands had been taken from me, given to Nicky. Draco then showed me a gag and handed it to Nicky. A ball dangling midway on a leather string. Now my voice was being stripped away. "Not gagged," I thought, I couldn't stand that. I was going along, I was doing what was told. Not a gag! Oh, please! These thoughts were barely across my mind when Nicky pushed the ball gag into my mouth, past my teeth, filling it my mouth, pressing down my tongue, stretching the muscles of my jaw. Quickly, with practiced motion, the strap was clasped behind my neck. My heart jumped. No, no, this was wrong. I didn't mean it, what I had said, what I agreed to! I can't have this happen, please Nicky, please don't make this happen, please!

  My mind screamed, my voice was lost, mere murmurings. The gag suppressed the last expression of my will, my hands frozen helplessly behind my back, my voice stilled. I pleaded with the only thing I had left, my eyes. And then all went black. A hood was pulled over my head, my last view of the world as a free woman, Nicky's face, denied me, all reassurance now gone. I panicked. Suddenly hands pressed against my breasts, Nicky's? His voice, soft, reassuring, his lips on my nipples, he loved me, I was his, he would reclaim me, he said. Oh, god, make it true!

  And then he was gone. The car sped up, I was alone with my captors, naked, bound, silenced. I knew they were staring at my breasts, my belly, my thighs. How could they not. I knew I was physically desirable, hadn't Nicky and others told me countless times before. But now, these charms, as they were, were displayed to men who had no need to flatter me, to cajole, caress, persuade. I was in their power, physically and emotionally. I strained at my bonds, no, no, no, this was a mistake, wrong. Let me go, let me go.

  Hands then touched me, not to free me, but to push me back against the seat, spread my legs, lean me back. My back muscles strained, I moaned. My body was as taut as a bowstring, my nerves on end. But then, the rocking of the car, the gentle hum of the engine, the softness of the seat on my back and head as I knelt back, calmed me, settled me. I was lost, my fate sealed, no need to act, no need to think. I let myself float into semi-consciousness.

  I don't know how long it was before I was transferred from the limo to another car or van. Doors slamming, arms lifting me, pulling me from the car. Concrete under my feet, then up a step and onto my stomach, a shot, oblivion.

  I awoke still bound and gagged, hooded and laying on my back on a lumpy mattress of some kind. My hands bound above me, fixed to the headboard or the wall or such, my feet spread apart fixed to the sides of the bed. The room, wherever it was, was quiet. I was still groggy, but, as I struggled to consciousness, I remembered what had happened, what I had become. But what was I doing here, wherever that was? What was happening to me? I could sense more than hear the presence of others in the room. A slight moan to my left, a rattle of a chain to my right. The room was warm, almost steamy. An echo, stone walls? The word dungeon came into my mind.

  I lay there pulling occasionally against my bonds, straining at the gag in my mouth aching to pull my legs together. I knew I had been out for a long time, but what was going to happen to me I didn't know, or else I did and I didn't believe it. I couldn't help but crying, calling out for Nicky, my mother, my father anyone to help. This could not be happening to me, a twenty first century woman of education, ambition, articulate and empowered. My fate was my own, I had thought. I would decide and fulfill my destiny, whatever that was. But then, this was my choice, my decision. I could have walked out of that restaurant at any time. No one forced me into that car, no one forced the words of surrender from my mouth. My destiny, had I fulfilled it at last? Was I a slave to my passion, my need to feel it to evoke it? I began to cry.

  Sometime later, with a clang and a bang, a door opened. Voices entered the room, a man, a woman, laughter. I could hear them approach my bed. I had never felt this kind of fear before. What had Nikki meted out for me? Were these his agents, his messengers? What was going to happen?

  Hands on my hands, hands on my feet, unfastening them from the bed and wall. I was pulled up to my feet unceremoniously. My legs were like rubber as I leaned against a shoulder (whose?) and was pulled along the floor. I tried to push myself away, to strike out, more laughter, male and female. My hands pulled behind me, retied, a hand between my thighs, pulling the hairs there, urging me forward. I was defeated.

  I felt a seat beneath me, a toilet. Oh what a relief as I emptied my bladder. I was almost grateful. As I finished my pee, I was pulled forward, my backside exposed. As I was held tightly in a man's arms, I felt a nozzle enter my behind, a warm gentle pressure inside me and then a flood. I tried to pull away, but, held there, was subjected to three more assaults, each producing a stream of waste and fetid air. The man and woman who held me exchanged witty remarks as they cleaned me up. A man's hand twisted my breasts, ran itself between my thighs. Oh, god, no, not that, I thought. But it was not to be, not yet.

  -->