Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl (20 page)

“Hello, cunt,” Stoner said to her. “I’m your new owner.” He grabbed and twisted her tits. Denise moaned in pain.

“That’s right, cunt,” Stoner told her. “If it hurts, tell it. I like to hear women scream.” He twisted the breasts again, harder. Denise’s moan became low and guttural. She stared at the man who was tormenting her. All of her nightmares about who her new owner would be had become true. This man was a ruthless, sadistic bastard. She didn’t need to know more. During her rare moments of near consciousness during her trip, she had decided to kill herself at the first opportunity. She would not undergo a lifetime of sexual slavery. She would do what she could to avoid pain, if it could be avoided, but at the first opportunity, she would slit her wrists, hang herself or jump off of a high place.

Her box was sitting on a coffee table in the cabin of Stoner’s sea plane. It was Stoner’s habit to get his new sluts off to a good start right away. He had his cock out and was worrying it to hardness. Hearing the new girl moan in pain had helped. He now presented his prick to the mouth of the forlorn girl. She accepted it meekly and began to pleasure him. “Not bad!” he thought as she ran her tongue over the bulbous head of his rod and slid her lips along its shaft.

Jeremiah watched the new slave with curiosity. Most of the other slaves were too overwhelmed to give a good blowjob when they were first released from their prison. This one did it as if sucking a man’s cock while helplessly bound was almost natural. This would bear some looking into.

Denise worked fervently at the hard meat that possessed her mouth. She knew that when she gave him relief, he would leave her at peace. She didn’t care if they locked her back in the box and threw it overboard.

The heavyset man was enjoying Denise’s enthusiastic efforts. He had his hands on her head, pressing her face into his loins, searching for the back of her throat. Denise had already learned this and she allowed the head to pass through her throat’s opening. She felt the man’s hands grip her head harder, heard him moan and then felt his meat throbbing in her throat. His warm discharge slid down her esophagus.

Stoner withdrew his piece and patted her on the head. “Very good, slut. You’re a natural whore.” And to Jeremiah, he said, “Lock her back up.”

When the plane landed, Denise went through the same reception ritual as had Cheryl. She was taken to the concrete building set away from the house and released from her small prison by Jeremiah. He washed her and cleaned her, and forced her to empty her bowels. She seemed too docile to him. When he caressed her pussy while in the shower, her back to his front, she abandoned herself too readily to her pleasure. “Time will tell,” Jeremiah thought. He would monitor the sisters closely.

Within the hour of arrival at Stoner’s plantation, Denise found herself in the Discipline Room. Her wrists were strung from the ceiling by a chain. Her legs were spread up and out by other chains so that her sex would be exposed to Stoner’s depredations. Jeremiah took note of the hairless state of her mons and added it to his list of suspicions.

Denise hung there, exposed, stretched out, for three hours before Stoner came to take his pleasure with her. Her thigh muscles ached beyond belief from their extension. She had trembled when she saw all of the engines of torture spread about the room. She knew that these things were here to be used and not as museum pieces. Her despair was complete.

Stoner stripped when he entered the Discipline Room and, whip in hand, approached the helpless girl. He too noted the almost hairless crotch. To him it merely denoted the girl’s status as a natural whore. Only a slut would shave her genitals. He rubbed the puffy lips astride the entrance to Denise’s sheath. He stared into her eyes as he fingered it to wetness. Denise moaned, partly in response to the application of Stoner’s fingers to her snatch, but also from fear. She could see the whip in the man’s hand. She knew it was not a toy.

The man continued to caress Denise’s sex until the lips had engorged and distended and she began to pant in expectation of a climax. When he saw her eyes cloud with passion, he withdrew his hand and swung the thin rattan cane down on her sex forcefully. Denise howled in pain. She had not been prepared for it. Her cunt burned where the blow had landed. Anther blow followed, this time to the inner portion of her right thigh. The sting of the blow sent surges of pain throughout her body. There was a cruelty behind this man’s blows that had not been there when the Turk had whipped her. She could see from this man’s face total, vicious hatred.

Stoner gave the girl twenty blows with the cane. Denise, by the end, had been begging him to stop. He was nude and she saw that his passion had risen. She hoped that he would fuck her soon, to satiate his lust. She got her wish. Stoner threw down the whip and stepped between the girl’s thighs. Her pussy was widely split by her outstretched legs. He easily restored her physical readiness for intercourse by stroking the inside of the labial lips and caressing the small bud of pleasure. Nonetheless, the girl moaned in pain when he thrust his hot cock home. Her pussy was battered and sore. Each thrust of the man’s hips against hers caused waves of pain to roll through her. She could not prevent herself from crying out, a cry which Stoner mistook for passion.

“Yeah, take it bitch!” he called out when he heard Denise’s cry. “Take my cock up that slutty snatch of yours!” His thrusts became harder and more frequent.

Denise, despite herself, felt the familiar heat in her loins. “Yes, yes,” she told her self. “Make me come, you bastard! At least make me come!”

When she felt Stoner stiffen and heard him moan, Denise was propelled into orgasm. “Agh! Agh! Agh!” she cried as she tried to reciprocate Stoner’s thrusts. Her cunt was still pulsing with pleasure when Stoner withdrew. He looked at her with admiration. “This one was worth every penny,” he thought. Jeremiah, standing behind him and watching the white woman’s passionate response, was not so sure.

Stoner took a break. He tossed back a long pull from a bottle of beer. He wanted to whip her some more. He motioned to Jeremiah to release her legs and let them fall to the floor. Denise sighed with relief as she felt the concrete beneath her feet. When she felt the tall, mean looking black man fix a strap around her ankles, she knew that her torments had not ended. Another strap was affixed around her thighs, just above the knees. She would be unable to turn or twist to avoid the blows. She resolved not to cry if she could help it.

The first slash of the thin reed fell across her pale white breasts. She moaned in pain. The second was across her stomach. She moaned a little louder. By the fifth stroke, this one across the front of her thighs, she was in tears. When Stoner went to work on the back of her legs, she broke down and again begged and pleaded for mercy. She made all the promises all of the women in such circumstances make. Stoner only stopped when his arm became tired.

The girl’s whole body burned and ached from the blows. She had received several across the breasts and her delicate globes throbbed with pain.

Stoner was too tired to fuck her again. He would fuck her again tomorrow. He wanted to save himself for Justine, who would be spending her last night in his bed. There was a terrible pleasure in taking physical delight from a woman who did not know that her fate had been sealed. Justine would pleasure him with all of her skills and enthusiasm. And tomorrow he would discard her.

Stoner left Denise alone with Jeremiah. It was his turn to sample the new bitch. Jeremiah waited until the sound of the door slamming closed stopped reverberating through the room. He stepped up to Denise, standing inches from her face. He grabbed her face and forced her to look into his eyes.

“I am Jeremiah,” he said. “I am the caretaker of the master’s slaves. If you fear the master, you should fear me more, because I know of more subtle, more excruciating ways to bring pain to a slutty white woman like you. We will get to know each other well. You will have no secrets from me.”

The terrible demeanor of the black man made Denise tremble. She did not know what he meant by secrets. She had no secrets that she knew of. All she knew was that it was apparent that this huge, cruel, black man was going to abuse and torture her, worse than she had already received from the white man, her ‘owner’. Inwardly, she cursed her fate.

Jeremiah released her from her chains. He let her fall to the concrete floor. He prodded her with his foot until she crawled to a small steel cage. He would not fuck her yet, he had decided. He would wait. One day, when the master was away, he would bring her down here and find out all there was to know about her. Once the tearful woman had crawled inside the cage, Jeremiah slammed it shut and locked it. “I will see you in the morning,” he said.

* * *

In New York, the hotel had turned into a war room. Maps were spread over the bed. Nora had been on the telephone all day. Turk, too, as he called in chips. Lenny lounged around drinking beer and smoking out on the balcony. Once the country the box was in had been nailed down, they had sorted out how to get there the quickest and most discreetly. Nora had located a source for a helicopter and a plane, depending on which suited their needs more. There was a source in the country who could reliably supply weapons.

Five used-looking fake passports were on order. Pictures of Cheryl, Denise and the three of them had been emailed to the source.

Once the report had come back that the box had not moved for two hours, it was felt that they had located Denise’s new owner. Nora sat back from the computer when she read it. “That’s in the middle of nowhere! It’s almost 200 miles from the capital. There’s no airstrips around it, only one decent road to it. It’s miles from the sea. How do we get in?”

Turk was on the telephone. He covered up the mouthpiece and replied, “I don’t know, but I’ve got a handle on who Denise’s most likely owner is. You should be getting a copy of a State Department report on the guy in about fifteen minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, Nora and the Turk poured over the minutely detailed report about Benjamin Stoner. What they read was not good. All of his brutality came through clearly in the report. He was a megalomaniac. There were several hearsay reports about virtual slave labor camps used to staff his mines and plantations. He had a private army. He was hand in glove with the government. And he was very wealthy. This was not going to be easy.

It was dinner time and as the three ate light dinners, Nora recapped.

“We’ve got flights to the neighboring country tomorrow morning. The day after, you two will be flown into Katango with fake papers. We’ve got a guy looking for an angle to get you into Stoner’s little empire, which is in the northeast corner of the country. I’ll be standing by with a seaplane. There’s a major lake near Stoner’s mansion, which is almost certainly where the girls will be found. When you guys get them, I’ll land on the lake and fly you out.”

“Sounds simple,” Lenny said. “Except you left out the part where this guy smells a rat, captures us and feeds us to alligators.”

“That’s crocodiles, Lenny,” Nora replied. “Alligators are in Florida.”

“Well, crocodiles then,” Lenny retorted. “Jesus Christ on a cross!” he exclaimed. “Are you guys nuts or what? Do you think that we’ll be able to waltz in there, traveling, what, 200 miles by road, not get stopped anywhere for our papers, nobody asking what we’re doing there? Why not fly us in by chopper?”

“There’s no place to drop us off where we would be in reasonable striking distance of the mansion besides deep in the jungle,” Turk answered Lenny. “If we get too close, all those soldiers he’s got will be awake and ready to pounce. If we land in the jungle, we might not ever make it there at all.”

“Listen”, he continued, “let’s get on the plane in the morning and see what develops when we get to, what’s that place called?” he asked Nora.

“Niger,” she answered, “Not Nigeria, Niger.”

“Okay, Niger. There are people working for us right now in Katango. Let’s hope they come up with something.”

That night, Turk finally succumbed to Nora’s charms. They made passionate love on the hotel bed. Nora loved the Turk’s long, thick cock, and she gave it special attention with her hot lips and tongue. The Turk moaned as she pressed her lips around the helmet shaped head. She ran her tongue the length of the shaft, all the while massaging his heavy sac with her hand. She took the sac into her mouth, gently sucking on the tender stones of flesh inside.

She took Turk’s first discharge directly into her mouth. She wanted the taste of it, to feel its viscous presence in her mouth. She swallowed it lustfully. She kept him hard by a dexterous application of her hand and her lips and then mounted him, pushing his stiff cock home into her throbbing sheath.

Nora moaned with pleasure as she felt the rod penetrate her to her depths. She rocked gently back and forth on top of him, looking for the drag of his tool across her hard button of pleasure. When she came, she cried out as tremor after tremor shook her body. When they subsided, she started again, clutching Turk’s cock firmly with the muscles of her hot, fleshy tunnel. The Turk had his large, scarred hands on her breasts as she rode him once more. He cupped her firm globes and gently massaged them. When she began to pant heavily and grind deeply into his loins, he pinched and twisted the nipples, mixing Nora’s flashes of pleasure with pain. She came mightily this time, crying out. The Turk pulled her down, their loins still connected and filled her mouth with his tongue. His cock began to throb and it spurted his hot seed into her belly.

When their passions had been sated, the two lay side by side, Nora nestled in the crux of Turk’s shoulder. He had his hand on her pussy, slowly and gently stroking its soft interior with his finger.

After a while, Nora spoke. “You’re the only man I let fuck me, Turk. Do you know that?”

“I know that Nora. You can fuck me anytime.”

“But what about when you get your love slave and retire in contentment to your little island? Will you still fuck me then?”

“I’ll always fuck you Nora, anytime, anywhere.”