Convict's Captive Book 3 Page 6

  “Come on,” Chaz ordered the girl in a deep, harsh voice, “get outta there. And don’t get smart. I know plenty of ways to make it hurt without leaving any marks. Just give me a reason to and I will.”

  Camille had broken into silent tears. She shuffled herself out of the cage on her knees. Her blond hair was almost yellow and hung down to the middle of her back. She was thin but curvaceous. Her breasts were solid and pert. Apparently the men had not been so cautious in her care before now because she bore the faded remnants of a whipping on her breasts and thighs.

  As she cleared the cage, Chaz took hold of the hair at the back of her head and lifted her to her feet. She gave out a little squeal of pain.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Chaz told her. She nodded back. Her face had devolved into an expression of her misery.

  “Use the bedroom at the end to the right,” Stitch told Chaz. “And don’t forget to keep her chained to the bed. I don’t want her running off if you pass out after you fuck her.”

  Chaz laughed. “It won’t be me who’ll be passing out. I’m going to fuck the living shit out of this little honey.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Stitch answered. “Just do what I say.”

  Chaz smiled. “Sure, Stich. Just like you say,” he replied. “Come on, Camille,” he said to the girl, shaking her head harshly. “Let’s go fuck.”

  He pushed the unhappy girl in front of him. She could only take small steps due to the chain between her ankles. The man was taking long strides and she had to double time her feet like a hurrying geisha in order not to trip and fall to the floor. He led her to the staircase and up where the girl had to take little mini steps to navigate the risers. Linda’s heart went out to girl. She was about 5’6” tall, and the big man towered over her. When they reached the balcony, he turned her to the right. Linda watched as he led her to the door on the end. He unlocked it and pushed her rudely in. He stepped in and slammed the door behind him.

  There was nothing for Linda to do but keep wary eyes on the men and the stupid movie they were watching. It had a lot of car chases and shoot outs. Linda didn’t recognize any of the actors. The men kept smoking and drinking long necks and taking swigs from the Jack Daniels bottle. They exchanged appreciative commentary on the movie action, cheering whenever the activities became particularly violent and hooting when one of the many big breasted, barely dressed babes were slapped around or otherwise discomfited.

  At one point, Rocker took one of the black haired girls out of a cage and had her suckle his prick while he leaned back on one of the sofas and smoked another joint. Another man, the one they called Jawbone because of his prominent chin, stripped down and had the third girl come out of her cage. He fucked her right there on a leather divan, her knees bent back and almost touching her shoulders, while the young girl groaned and sobbed. When he was done, Stich fucked her next, not bothering to disrobe, but just lowering his fly and fucking her as he was.

  In the meantime, Rocker finally got off and Billy Boots, after slapping the girl back and forth a few times for issuing a whine of unhappiness, bent her over the side of one of the couches and took her rear entrance, making her screech and howl in complaint.

  When Stich was done, he reconnected the ankles of the girl he had been using, freed her hands from her collar and told her to go to the kitchen and warm up some food. She shuffled off obediently, if unhappily. At first, Linda wondered how the men could let the girl go off on her own like that, but then she guessed that all the other doors and windows except the front had been boarded up or hammered shut.

  When she came back about 20 minutes later, Boots’ sobbing victim had been restored to relative safety in her cage. The first girl, who answered to the name of Maureen, had large, round breasts with dark, wide areolas, wide hips and a simple, childlike face. She looked about 19 or 20 at most, had pale, almost pasty skin and had straight, jet black hair that ran down her back to just above her waist. She was carrying a tray with a large bowl of what looked like stew with several smaller bowls and a series of spoons and napkins. She brought the tray to Stich first and he spooned himself out a bowlful. She then presented the tray in turn to Rocker, Jawbone and Billy Boots. Boots passed, but Rocker and Jawbone filled bowls to the brim and placed them on their lap.

  When she was done serving the men, the girl stood in the middle of the room, her brimming eyes downcast, holding the tray in front of her, awaiting further instructions. Stitch looked up at her when he was finished eating and asked her if she and the other girl, who he called Julie, had eaten.

  “No, sir,” Maureen answered timidly. Her inner thighs were shiny from the cum leaking from her shaven crevasse.

  He filled his bowl and Rocker’s, who had finished his as well, and placed them on the floor. He released Julie from her cage, refastened Maureen’s wrists to the chain that led from her collar and told them to eat up and be quick about it. The girls knelt in place, shaking their heads until their long black hair was behind them, then leaned over and began to eat. Stich filled two more bowls with beer and placed them beside the others so they could drink.

  When they were done, he told them both to pee in the larger bowl and then, after they squatted and performed, to the amusement of the men, ordered Maureen back to the kitchen to clean everything up. Julie went back in her cage.

  Once Maureen came back and was restored to her confinement, things settled down a bit. The movie ended and another one came on. It was a slasher movie and Linda watched with horror as the pretty young girls in the picture were slaughtered viciously, one by one, by a man with a ski mask over his face. All the while, Linda could not help being self conscious about her state of virtual nakedness. The men looked over at her once in a while, as if reminding themselves that she was still there. Every time their eyes cast over her, a wave of humiliation passed through her. At one point, Billy Boots came over, he seemed pretty drunk, and started slapping her breasts harshly, back and forth, calling her a cunt and a pig and promising harsh treatment to come, making Linda squeal and cringe, until Stich told him to cut it out.

  They were about halfway through the second movie when Linda heard the unmistakable sound of motorcycles pulling up outside. She shuddered with fear. The engines turned off and a few moments later she heard the front door open and close and then the step of heavy boots on the foyer floor. Her back was to the entrance of the room and she twisted her body so she could see who was coming in.

  It was Ike and his major domo, Mouse. The boys all greeted them. Ike and Mouse murmured gruff replies and then went over to the refrigerator and got themselves some beers. They popped them open, took long drinks and then sauntered over to where Linda hung helplessly. They just stood there, perusing her, while they drank. Linda felt her stomach go sour with fear and she had to suppress the whines of unhappiness that kept trying to emerge from her gag. The men had been waiting for their leader so that the fun could begin. Well, here he was.

  Ike was a fearsome looking dude. His wildly bearded face looked like it had a permanent scowl. His chest was broad and muscled. His hands looked as big as bear’s paws. He stood there arrogant and powerful and his mien bespoke a ruthlessness and cruelty that made Linda shiver. She could tell that visions of the horrific acts he was going to perpetrate upon her were circling around in his brain.

  Mouse, as described heretofore, had a pointed face with a snout-like nose. He was balding in front and his scraggly brown hair hung down to his shoulders from the circlet around his bald spot. He stood about shoulder high to Ike who was about 6’4”. Although Mouse was a little over 5’10”, since he was always standing near or next to Ike everybody thought of him as a runt. He was as loyal to Ike as an apostle and always carried out his orders swiftly and surely, whether it was arranging a hit on some transgressor, keeping gang members in line or making sure that Ike got his cut of every licit or illicit enterprise that gang members engaged in.

  Ike gave Mouse a look. He didn’t have to speak his order. Mouse knew what to do right away.
He flipped open his pig sticker, stepped forward, and began to cut away the remnants of Linda’s attire.

  While Mouse was tearing through Linda’s jeans, cutting up each leg so that they could be removed without freeing her ankles, Ike moved over to the rack of whips on the wall. He chose a long, leather encased, steel switch with a polished wooden handle. When he came back, Mouse was pulling the remnants of Linda’s jeans from her body. Ike waited until Mouse had cut away her torn rhinestone studded, denim shirt before speaking.

  “Go through her pants. See if there’s anything inside them that says who she is,” he told his minion.

  Mouse picked up the quartered jeans and went through the pockets. He produced a small wad of cash and a plastic i.d. He looked at it cursorily and then handed them both to Ike.

  Ike put the cash in his pocket and then took a look at the i.d. After a moment or two, he tossed it aside. He stepped up in front of the dangling girl.

  “Well, little FBI girl, first, we’re going to have a little lesson in obedience,” he told the wide eyed, panicking young woman. “It’s always best that we get right to the heart of things. Then, when I start asking some questions, it will be clear what the consequence of not answering will be.”

  Linda couldn’t help issuing a whine. She had been eyeing the switch fearfully. It was about 3’ long, but looked like a toy in Ike’s supersized paw. Right then she decided to tell them anything they wanted to know. It was too bad that she was gagged. But it wouldn’t have made any difference in the end. All the girls got a whipping when they arrived and there was no reason to treat this one any different.

  The men had gotten up from their chairs and made a little semi-circle around Linda, Ike in the middle. Ike spun the handle of the switch around in his hand a few times to get the feel of it and then reared back. Linda’s whole body cringed and she jammed her eyes tight. She heard the whirr of the instrument as it cut the air.

  It made a slapping sound as it struck her across her naked, joined thighs several inches below her knees. Linda’s eyes sprung open, her body jerked wildly and she screeched into her gag. Ike counted to 5 slowly and then he delivered another vicious blow a few inches below the other. Linda’s body contorted again and her tormented voice emerged from behind the wedge of leather implanted firmly in her mouth.

  “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” she called out. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Tears were already pouring down from her eyes into her hair. She saw Ike’s hand rearing back again and she bit down hard on the wad of leather between her lips. This blow landed a few inches down from the second, at what would have been the tops of her pale white thighs if she hadn’t been upside down. It left, like the others, an angry red line amidst the field of white. Linda screeched again although she had promised herself that she wouldn’t this time. She knew was tougher than this, but the hopelessness of her situation, the callousness with which the men had treated the other women, Ike’s fierce demeanor, the leering eyes of the other men, all combined to undermine her resolution. In spite of herself, she started to beg for forbearance.

  “…eeeeeeeeease …op! eeeeeeeeease op! eeeeeeeeease!” she tried to yell through her gag. Her pleas only served to give the men amusement.

  The next blow struck her across the belly. Ike worked his way slowly down to her breasts. Linda screamed and contorted her body in an attempt to avoid the blows, but Ike merely awaited his opportunity and struck her breasts again and again.

  When he stepped behind her, Linda started to sob. Before proceeding further, Mouse loosened her hands from behind her back and, with the help of Jawbone, since Linda struggled mightily to avoid it, joined them in front of her exposing her long, naked, graceful back to depredation. Each blow, from the back of her shins to her plump rear orbs, up her back to her shoulders, one after the other in a demonically slow pace, delivered an intolerable line of fiery pain. She screeched and moaned and sobbed and called out muffled, half formed pleas for forbearance. The men around her were all silent, mesmerized by the display of unmerciful violence. The girls in the cages cringed and sobbed as they recalled their own turns at Ike’s mercy. Linda’s howls filled the room, mingled with the screams of the tormented, beautiful young woman in the movie.

  When Ike was done, Linda was sobbing uncontrollably. Billy Boots opportuned Ike for a turn and when he received his leader’s nod, went to the peg board and selected a multi tasseled flogger. Linda saw him approach with the instrument in his hand and screeched and sobbed and begged to be spared further abuse, futilely attempting to communicate her willingness to reveal everything she knew about anything the men wanted to know.

  Billy displayed a maniacal grin as he released the first blow of the flogger across Linda’s breasts. She attempted to ward off the second with her bound hands, but at Billy’s request Jawbones knelt down and pulled Linda’s disobedient hands down, away from her torso to prevent interference with Billy’s pleasures.

  He worked the flogger up and down her front. His face was contorted into a masque of anger and spittle emerged from his tightly compressed lips. One could extrapolate from his mien the expletives rattling around his brain each time he married the harsh, hardened, leather strands to Linda’s body. “Cunt!” “Pig” “Bitch! “Whore!” “Scumbucket!” and so on. Where the whip landed emerged bright splotches of red on her skin.

  Linda cried and moaned and twisted her body. When he was done with the front, he went to her back, tracing the path that Ike had followed until he was down to her shoulders while Linda screamed and sobbed. When he was done, and a scrim of redness had been produced from her shins to her shoulders, he moved towards her front again to resume his assault on her breasts, but Ike caught his arm and told him firmly that that was enough. Fire erupted in Billy’s eyes, but he obeyed his superior nonetheless, knowing full well that Linda’s night of torment was not yet finished. He would make sure he got another turn with her.

  Linda did not resist as her arms were refastened behind her back. She was moaning disconsolately. Her body swung slowly back and forth. A river of tears had flowed into her golden blond hair. Someone handed Ike the bottle of Jack and he took a nice swig.

  “Wow, that was beautiful,” Rocker gushed.

  “That’s the way to do it,” Jawbone proffered.

  Stitch just nodded his head in agreement.

  Mouse had handed back Ike his beer and he finished it off. He handed the empty back and Mouse dropped the dead soldier into the large, green, plastic garbage can already half full with empties. It made a tinkling sound as it landed.

  Mouse crouched down, unbuckled Linda’s gag from behind her head and pulled the plug from her mouth. Linda’s lips formed into a grotesque grimace. She looked up at her captors piteously. FBI training at Quantico had never prepared her for this. Two years out of the academy, she had been taken under Special Agent Holmes’ wing. She had been the 2nd ranked graduate from her class. She was on her way to the top. She had volunteered for this dangerous duty at his urging and so her star could continue its ascendancy. She had thought she knew the risks. Her instructions were to make contact with the Alamogordo Rogues’ leadership. For one golden moment earlier that night, she had thought she was within reach of her goal.

  She had recognized Ike right away from the pictures Holmes had shown her. When the man who she knew now as Chaz had proposed that he introduce her, her heart had thumped with excitement. She was envisioning the headlines, “Special Agent Linda Kramer Smashes Decades Old Slavery Ring.” There would be awards ceremonies, promotion and star status as she testified against them at their inevitable trial. She had reached out her hand to shake his, calculating her next move. She was willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant fucking the burly monster. So much was at stake.

  And then, so fast that her eyes barely perceived it, his fist had lashed out. She remembered only the flow of pain from her jaw upwards. The lights had gone out. The next thing she knew, one of the men was stuffing a mass of leather into her mouth. Her wrists and ankles had been
confined. She barely had time to struggle before they had dumped her into the tool box.

  And now, her worst nightmares had come true. She had suffered a torment that had been previously unimaginable. There was undoubtedly more to come. She knew her duty. She should give the men no information that could be helpful to them in protecting their nefarious schemes. She should suffer death before dishonor. But she knew that she would answer the cruel men’s questions even before they asked them.

  Ike crouched down before her. He tapped her cheek with his meaty hand. Not lightly. It was not an affectionate gesture. She could feel her cheek glowing red where he struck her. A river of cold flowed through her veins. “Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!” she thought unhappily.

  “Okay now, little Miss FBI girl, it’s time to have a little chat,” Ike told her. “What were you doing in my bar tonight?”

  He didn’t have to ask any more questions. Linda gave him the whole thing. They knew that Blackjack Jackson was headed this way. They knew that the Alamogordo Rogues would help him cross the border to freedom. They knew that it was a chance to break the gang wide open. They knew there was a safehouse somewhere and it was her job to try and find it. She was told to do whatever it took.

  “Well, little miss FBI girl,” Ike told her, “you found it. Or, rather, it found you. I guess you know by now that you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone about it. The only question is whether we bury you somewhere way out there in the desert or find another use for you. One of our Mexican friends is coming in a day or so. He hates the FBI with a passion. I think he might like playing with you for a little while. Your boys rolled up one of his networks a little while ago and he would probably enjoy some payback. So, if you’re a good little girl, we’ll keep you alive until he gets here just to see. Otherwise I’ll let Billy Boots here take you down to the cellar and have some fun with you. We’ll get it all on tape and send it back to your FBI friends. So what do you say? Ready to have a little fun?”