Klitzman's Predators Book One Page 3

  Pierre looked over, "Yeah, sure, Mr. Diskare. Very special." I had no doubt.

  The rest of the dinner was filled with small talk about my trip, my health, my liking for the little servant girl who had played the flute for me in my bath. After about forty minutes, and various delightfully prepared recipes, Diskare motioned again to Carla who in turn motioned the serving girls to clear away the dishes.

  Diskare led me and the others into the next room, which turned out to be a billiards room, about 50' long, sofas and easy chairs lining the walls. We entered the room through a pair of sliding doors which a red shirted guard closed behind us after we entered. On the exterior side of the room were several large French windows, running the entire length of the wall from the floor to the ceiling. They led out to what was a spacious garden and a view of the sea below. There was a small bar along the interior wall and, at the other end, in the corner, was a baby grand piano, black, shiny and sleek. In the other corner was a small stage, about 6" above the floor in front of which were kneeling two servant girls.

  On the stage, her wrists joined over her head, held upright by a chain which led to the high ceiling, was a graceful looking, wide eyed, unhappy, brown haired girl. She was naked except for a gag which partially concealed her features. Some people had house plants, this guy had girls hanging around the house to admire.

  One of the men commenced a game of billiards with Diskare while two others started a game of straight pool on the other table. The servant girls had gotten up and were handing around a tray of snifters and a brandy decanter. I found an easy chair which gave me a good view of Diskare's game and, out of the other eye, the dish in the corner. One of my fellow diners came up to me.

  "My name’s Dracovich, but everyone calls me Draco," he said. "You'll be working with me."

  "Yeah, well, my name's Wiggens, Harry Wiggens." I shook his hand.

  "What's your line Wiggins, I mean, you know, what's your tie in here?"

  "What are you taking a poll?" I said. I could see him stiffen.

  "Listen fellow, don't do me any favors, okay." He started to walk away. I realized that I had made a blunder. If this was the guy I was going to be working with, I had better not piss him off from the gitgo. I could find myself walking on air at 10,000 feet over the Gulf of Mexico. I decided to mend the fence.

  "Listen, I didn't mean anything,” I said. "I'm just a little jittery. I mean, when I signed on I didn't really think I'd be going back to the States, you know what I mean. I mean, it’s not my favorite vacation spot right now."

  "Well, I guess I know what you're saying. It's no picnic, I can tell you that” he replied. “You don't have to tell me anything about your past, I mean I really couldn't give a fuck. It's just that a guy likes to know who he's working with. Live long and prosper, you know what I mean."

  I told him that I did. Just then, one of the other men, a small guy with a squeaky voice, the kind that made you wonder whether some people should shut up all of their life, began a high pitched laugh. I looked up and saw him and the two guys who had been playing pool standing around one of the servant girls who was kneeling on all fours on top of a hassock. Her dress was flipped up over onto her back, revealing two fine thighs and a delicious ass. The squeaky guy had jammed a dildo into her ass and was pulling it in and out. Squeaky made some comment and the other two men laughed. He then opened his fly and pulled out his dick. Draco spoke.

  "Well it looks like that one's taken. I guess I'll go find a companion for myself and then hit the hay. I'll see you tomorrow. Diskare told me to start breaking you in right away."

  I bade Draco goodnight and got up from my chair. I wandered past Squeaky and the two dough boys and walked up to the bar. I refilled my cognac and then stepped over to the stage to take a closer look at the girl who was dangling there. As I walked up, her eyes were on the tableau of Squeaky and the servant girl. As I reached the front of the platform, her eyes shifted to me. I could see confusion and fear in her eyes. Obviously she was not a trained slave. Diskare must be getting ready to break her in. After a moment or two, Diskare appeared at my side. "Very beautiful, no?"

  "Very beautiful, yes," I replied.

  "There will be a little entertainment concerning this girl later. I would like you to join me."

  "I'd be glad to,” I agreed.

  Diskare motioned to a guard who was standing near the door to the hallway. The guard nodded and stepped over to the platform. "She will be leaving us now, but you'll see her again shortly."

  The guard unfastened her hands from the chain and the girl slumped into his arms. She had probably been standing on her tippy toes for a long while. The guard straightened her up and then unlocked her wrists, only to join them again behind her back. Grabbing her hair, he made her bend over until her head was level with his waist and then led her from the room.

  "Come with me, Harry and we’ll have a little chat." Diskare placed his arm on my elbow and motioned towards the garden. We stepped outside and began to stroll down a gravel, flower lined path. I could see the ocean below the 200' cliffs, rising and falling like a vast serpent. The moon shone brightly, strewing its light across the waves like a thousand golden fish wriggling on the surface. A lovely night. A lovely night to be a master.

  "Harry, I want you to know that Mr. Klitzman has instructed me to grant you every courtesy. This does not happen often, especially for someone who has not been very long in our organization.”

  “That's okay,” I started to protest.

  He waved my protest aside. "I've read your dossier and know all about you. Let me be frank. I am entirely loyal to Klitzman. Everyone who works for him who knows what's best is. But I have my concerns. Are you safe, Harry? What is your game?"

  I knew that I was being tested. “Listen Mr. Diskare,” I told him, “I was facing the rest of my life in the can, not some country club, super max. Klitzman got me out. This is like a second lease on life for me. I'm not going to fuck that up. As for my appearance here, I'm just as surprised as anyone else. My only guess is that Klitzman wants to recoup some of his investment in me."

  "Yes, I suppose you're right, Harry. But let me warn you. The men you will be working with, the men you met tonight. They are also wary by nature. Make no wrong moves. I would like to see you back again."

  Now I knew I had done the right thing with Draco. Like any organization, the man on the top could control just so much, especially if he needed the skills and knowledge of the men who worked for him. Draco was liable to give me an irrigated liver if he felt threatened. He would think of what to tell Diskare or Klitzman later.

  "And so I will show you some of our facilities. Come inside with me."

  We entered a doorway which led to a set of stairs down to the basement of the building. We were met with a steel door on which Diskare knocked softly. A black face appeared briefly at the small glass window in the door and then it opened.

  We walked about fifteen feet down a hallway where we were met with another door. This opened much like the first and led us into a long hallway with various steel doors along both sides. We stopped at the first door. Diskare removed a key from his pocket and opened it, waving me in. The room was about 30' by 30', with a large contraption like a kid's monkey bar set in the middle. Along both walls were a series of small cages, about five by five. In three of them there were naked young women, bound and gagged. They looked very unhappy.

  "This is one of our training rooms. The structure in the middle is where we usually brand our new acquisitions and affix their discs. You can see that it swivels back and forth so as to put the girl in the required or desired positions. A girl can also be left displayed here so as to teach her openness and obedience."

  I looked around. There were various sets of whips, chains and other binding devices hung on the walls around the room. There were no windows and the walls were an antiseptic white. The floor was carpeted. Diskare led me over to one of the caged girls. “This girl arrived just yesterday,” he told me. ��She is one of the Brazilian girls we like to get. We have agents in the mountains and the jungle where the typical peasant is as poor as the dirt he must farm. Daughters are a liability and are often sold so that the rest of the family can survive. The girls are told they are being sold to husbands in the city. They are thus quite surprised when they are flown out of the country and arrive here. Even so, they are usually passive by nature and easy to train. They also have little or no idea where they are so escape is not a realistic possibility.

  “There are two separate classes of embonded women here. Some, like Alicia, who you met, function as servants around the mansion. Occasionally, I will sell one on to one of our clients as a courtesy. The others are those specifically recruited to either serve the guests of the resort as whores or to be sold on or sent to Klitzman’s Island. But I am sure you have seen enough here, let me show you the slaves' rooms."

  We left the training room and passed down the hall. Some of the rooms I could see by looking in the small spy holes in each one, contained more facilities for training and disciplining slaves. In one I saw another coffee colored girl splayed back on a small platform, her legs chained to poles on each side, obviously awaiting someone's pleasure. We stopped at a door on the left side of the hallway and Diskare unlocked the door and stepped in. It was a long, narrow room with a row of beds along one wall. Above each bed was a ring and a chain which led from the ring down onto the bed into a little pile. A matronly looking woman was sitting on a chair at the end of the room.

  "The servants are under the direct control of Carla, the mistress of the house. They are rarely admitted to the main areas, but both administer to the needs of the slaves and maintain their discipline and order. They ensure that the girls clean and dress themselves properly and are presented for duty when they are needed." He nodded to the woman who just smiled and continued sitting. Only then did I notice that there was a small, naked, light skinned girl at her feet. She was hooded and had her wrists bound to her ankles. A chain ran from her neck to the matron's lap. Slave discipline.

  We left the dormitory and Diskare led me down the hall to another steel door. He knocked lightly and it sprung open. "Now for our entertainment," he said.

  The room we now entered was a relatively small one. In it were three guards, lounging around several easy chairs which were lined against the interior wall. In the middle of the room was a black leather divan. On it sat the girl from the billiards room. She was dressed now and someone had freshened her makeup. She was sitting there demurely, her knees together, her hands in her lap. She was wearing a light blue blouse with swaths of yellow strewn across it. Her skirt was of matching design and was short, but loose. She was also wearing high heels that matched.

  She looked up as we came in and I could see by her red eyes that she had been crying.

  "This is the daughter of a high official of the government of a local country where we have extensive interests. He has broken his word to us regarding a very special project. Tonight we will exact our revenge and ensure that it will never happen again.

  “We will conduct our little performance tonight in English, which the girl understands fluently. So you will be able to follow along. It will be most amusing for you." Diskare spoke briefly to one of the guards while I regarded the girl sitting before me. I didn't know exactly what Diskare had planned, but I knew it wasn't good. I doubted that this girl had any inkling of what lay in store for her.

  After a moment, two more guards entered the room, both carrying portable video cameras. Like the other guards, they were dressed in red t-shirts and white canvas pants. Diskare motioned to the three original guards who stirred themselves from their chairs. One of them turned down the lights on the sides of the room leaving a small spot glaring into the center, about three feet from where the girl was sitting. The show was about to begin. Diskare stepped about two feet away from the spot on the floor and spoke to the girl.

  "Get to your feet," he spat out harshly. She looked up at him, startled, and slowly rose from the couch. Her arms were wrapped around her chest as if to comfort herself.

  "Stand in the light," Diskare ordered.

  The girl looked at him again as if he were speaking Greek. "Now!” Diskare barked. The girl jumped at the booming sound of Diskare's voice. She placed herself in the center of the light. I saw the cameramen step forward on either side of Diskare and begin to shoot.

  "Hands at your sides, stand straight,” Diskare barked. The girl stiffened. The three original guards had donned masks which covered the top part of their faces down to their mouths which was left free. There were holes for their nostrils and eyes. The masks, which were black like their uniforms, made them appear ominous, sinister. For a moment the room was silent. The girl took in her surroundings, wide eyed, confused. There was still enough light in the rest of the room for her to see what was going on. I'm sure it was not of a nature to comfort her.

  I hadn't gotten a good look at the girl's face before since it was covered by the gag. Her features were as refined as her body had been graceful when I saw it upstairs. She was young, not over twenty two, I guessed. Her lips were full, painted red, and they trembled as she stood there in the silence awaiting the next command. She had been, no doubt, already counseled not to speak unless spoken to. This did not prevent a small whimper escaping her lips.

  The silence continued for about two more minutes as all in the room regarded her. The cameramen continued to shoot, getting a good leader for their little film. Then Diskare spoke again.

  "You are Marissa Villejo?"

  "Y-yes." she stuttered back.

  "You are the daughter of Carlos Villejo?"

  Her reply was quieter, almost a whisper, "Yes."

  "What is your age?"

  "Twenty two."

  "You have sisters?"

  "Y-yes." her voice raised slightly, querulous.

  "What are their names and ages?"

  The girl looked around. It was obvious that refusing to answer was not an alternative. Besides, she had been plucked from her daily life, transported to an unknown place apparently a thousand or more miles from her home, kept prisoner and paraded naked before unknown men. She had to know that these were questions to which the answers were already known.

  "Veronica, twenty, and Luisa, eighteen."

  "Today it is you who have been brought here to atone for the offense of your father. He has betrayed those with whom he had bargained. He has lost his honor and now must suffer a punishment. You are to be the vehicle of that punishment."

  The girl followed Diskare's words wide eyed, unbelieving.

  "You have been brought here so that you, with your life, can both serve as compensation to those who have been damaged and serve as a warning to your father that he must not betray those who have bargained with him again."

  She began to sway slightly with fear. A tear rolled out of the edge of her eye and down the side of her face.

  Diskare continued. "We are making this record of our proceedings tonight so that it may be shown to your father that because of his dishonor, you are now lost to him. Should he choose to betray us again, it is your sisters, Veronica and Luisa who will stand here where you do today."

  The girl began to cry softly.

  "Tonight, from this moment, you are to be transformed. You are to be reduced to a vessel, a chattel. From today forwards, you no longer the master of your life, your body. Those things are to be taken from you and to become the possessions of your masters.

  “Your mind and your will are to be dedicated totally to the task of serving and obeying those who command you, those who will own you."

  The girl's crying became louder. She closed her eyes as if to ward off the words she was hearing. She was shaking violently as the tears poured down her face. Diskare paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in, both to the girl and to the distraught father who was to see this video.

  As the girl stood there sobbing, one of the cameramen crept up on the right to get a close up of the girl's face from the side. The other was shooting over Diskare's shoulder.

  Suddenly Diskare bellowed "Silence!" The girl's eyes sprung open. She looked at Diskare, terrified. She would as much disobey his commands as put her hand in a meat grinder. She probably didn't know much about what was going on, but what she did know was that she was absolutely at the mercy of this madman who was addressing her, and that whatever he decided would be her fate would happen. She stifled her sobs.

  "You will now disrobe," Diskare told her.

  She had been naked before in view of these strange men. But now there was the cameras and her father. For a moment she considered her options: none. Diskare stared into her eyes. Tears streaming down her face, she slowly raised her hands to her blouse and began to unbutton it. When she finished, she drew it down her arms and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts full and round, sprung free. Her nipples were dark and large, like blood red pesos. They were large for her frame, but were graceful and well shaped.

  She then fumbled with a zipper on the side of her skirt and then let that fall to her feet. Obviously she had been permitted to don only her skirt and blouse, as she was naked beneath her skirt as well. Her belly was flat and firm, her thighs well toned, tanned. There was the faint hint of white on her breasts and on her lower belly. She had apparently been too demure to expose those areas to the sun. She would have her chance now.

  "Kneel!" Diskare commanded. She knelt as the three masked guards now came forward. One was carrying a small carved wooden box in both hands as another approached and drew the girl's hair from around her neck. Then third guard then pulled a leather collar from the box and affixed it around the girl's throat. It clicked shut, a sound as final as death.

  "With this collar, you are enslaved,” Diskare told her. “You have no name. You have no property. You are not a person, but a thing, to be disposed of as the desire of those who own you shall be."

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