East Coast Slavers Organization

East Coast Slavers Organization – I: A Caribbean Adventure

Chapter 27 – Connie Meets the Competition (or Carolyn Becomes Stock)

Michael pulled Connie's car into a small alleyway close by her real estate company's office and put the transmission into park. "Sometimes, Aaron," he told himself, "you are a greedy, impetuous idiot. You can't walk past a piece of loose pussy without your dick making decisions for you. Shit! Now you have a just-harvested bitch to deal with. What do I do now?"

Michael Moore, the Caribbean alias for Aaron Clarke and the CEO of the East Coast Slavers Organization was in a quandary. The vehicle's trunk held a tightly bound, sweaty, and by now probably pissed off real estate agent, Connie Baxter. Michael had intended to take her back to his yacht, the Destiny, for some fun and games. Unfortunately, when he tried to drop off an earnest money check at the office, Connie's rival, Carolyn White assaulted him after trying to get him to change her back to the listing agent for the multi-million dollar estate that he was purchasing.

Carolyn White's extremely poor manners and then her threatened accusation of rape triggered her capture. Michael now felt himself honor bound to punish the bitch. She was now nothing more than stock, human livestock.

Michael tried to figure a way out of his predicament, his left hand crept behind him to idly caress Carolyn's naked ass behind him on the floorboard. Her lithe form was slick with sweat and she started to awaken and wriggle weakly in anger when his questing fingers slid into her moist cleft. Her grunting struggles helped Michael Moore ponder his options. "Everything fun in life seems fraught with risk," he mused. "The easiest answer is to hide her from Connie Baxter and surreptitiously bring her to Miami for training and auction. Or, I could let Connie play with her before I take Carolyn away. No," he decided, "the best plan is something else entirely."

Carolyn White's fate determined, Michael drew his now slimy fingers from her loosened cunt and slapped her ass. "Quiet now, Bitch; or you will regret it."

The bright light of the early afternoon Caribbean sun overwhelmed Connie's eyes as the car trunk thumped open above her. Michael grinned down at her and he signaled her to remain silent with a single finger in front of his pursed lips. She heard him whisper, "Connie, I'm kinda in a situation here and I think we can both win from the deal. Instead of heading to my boat, I think we need to get to your house as soon as possible; especially if you have a garage."

The saliva-impregnated washcloth in her mouth kept her from making an indignant or even an outright rude response to Michael's comment. She wanted out of the trunk as quickly as possible. "Hmmph, ruuu hitt!" she tried to get out through the gag.

"I said quiet and I mean it, no talking at all," Michael hissed. "Otherwise, you'll spoil the surprise. If you promise to be quiet I will pull out the gag."

Connie tried to nod her head in acceptance of his proviso. Michael gently moved her head to the side and he fumbled with the knotted twine behind her head. The loosening line relaxed the pressure on her cheeks and she could move her jaw a little around the sopping-wet cloth. He grabbed a protruding edge of the cloth and tugged it out, a little at a time. "Ohhh, you better rock my world tonight or I will kick your ass tomorrow," she hoarsely whispered to Michael.

"Oh, Connie, I think that tonight just became way more interesting for you. Wait and see. The surprise is well worth it. Let's get you to the front seat and you can guide me to your house."

Michael's arm slid under her knees and the other cradled her neck as he plucked her out of the deep trunk, seemingly effortlessly. He whispered in her ear as they moved forward toward her already open passenger door, "Promise not to look in the back seat?" She silently nodded yes and wondered what on earth was going on.

Connie silently signaled that Michael should make a right turn into a short gravel drive. Her home was a cute little bungalow, well landscaped with tropical plantings, and no garage. Michael cursed his frustration but contented himself with pulling into a secluded carport. He turned the key off and repeated his visual cue to maintain silence. Connie's sandaled feet were moved out of the car and Michael protected the top of her head as he pulled her upright and out of the car. He yanked her dog lead and she was forced to hobble after him, heading to a side entry into the kitchen. The links of the chain tugged her cunt lips in a not uncomfortable manner. Connie flushed and admonished herself for thinking about the sex Michael was planning for her. "Maybe he'll fuck me now and then again later on the boat," she thought as her cunt juiced at the thought of more hard fucking. She felt her breasts harden and the ruined blouse further taunted her nipples by scraping over the tender flesh.

Michael tied her leash off to a heavy barstool and lifted her up onto the cushion. "Stay, and be silent. I guarantee that you will love this." He strode outside, obviously in a hurry.

Connie's eyes bulged in disbelief when Michael carried in a nearly naked Carolyn White. Blindfolded, gagged, and bound; the blonde was a sight. Her clothes were in tatters, her exposed breasts were speckled with hair, dirt, and debris from the rear floorboard of Connie's car, and her hairy blonde pubic bush was in plain view. Despite her own questionable treatment at Michael Moore's hands, Connie grinned maliciously at the sight of her abjectly miserable rival. She started to wriggle forward off her barstool to get closer to her nemesis when the chain links of her dog leash dug into her pouting pussy lips. Connie winched in pain and decided to sit still and observe how Michael intended to proceed.

Michael continued around to the kitchen side of the open outside door and set the slim blonde down upon her feet. He checked the tightness of a slipknot at the end of a nylon lead rope before throwing it over the top of the exterior door where he tied it to the outside doorknob. "Stay Cunt," he commanded, "or you will hang yourself." There was little chance that Carolyn could do anything given that her hands and feet were bound with loop after loop of strapping tape. Michael walked back out, leaving the door wide open. He had seen a small garden shed behind the home and decided to quickly search through it for useful items. Inside the long unused storage building, Michael found a hammer, nails, cotton clothesline, and several sets of old, dusty nylon cargo straps.

Dust and paint chips fluttered down atop his head as he drove a heavy nail through the decorative trim of the doorway and into the horizontal stud hidden within the wall. Satisfied that the nail, driven in at a sharp angle, was strong enough, Michael got down off the kitchen chair and turned his attention back to Carolyn. He loosened up the lead rope, picked up the helpless woman, and walked her over to the doorway leading into the dining room. Next, he slid the slip noose up as high as it could go on her neck before tightening it again and draping the free end over the nail. A few jerking tugs and Carolyn squeaked through her gag and arched herself up on her toes to keep from choking.

Blindfolded, gagged, bound, and clearly helpless, she heard a door slam and then silence. Carolyn was still somewhat uncertain what occurred back at the real estate office. She remembered using her normal tactics to get her way: anger, seduction, and finally threats of blackmail. The large and powerful man had exploded into action when she pretended to get ready to scream. She was unaware of what transpired after that. It felt as though a truck hit her. Her ribs, back, and head ached and the gag in her mouth tasted foul. Shaken to the core by the situation, Carolyn felt befuddled and lost, fully paralyzed with fear.

Michael left the slim blonde and grinned at the fuller-bodied, and much more pleasantly tempered, Connie Baxter. His fingers untied her leg hobbles, fed the lead chain back through her dog collar, and under her pussy. He yanked her off the stool with another admonition for silence and led her toward her bedroom by the collar rather than the previously painful pinches of the chain on her pussy. Michael threw her belly down, knees to the carpet, onto her bed mattress and said, "Your turn to stay put Connie and don't talk yet."

Connie felt terribly exposed laying titties down on her mattress with her tingling pussy exposed to Michael's view. She wriggled a little in repressed horniness remembering the luscious sight of the bitch Carolyn tied in her kitchen. "Ohhh," she gasped as Michael's gigantic cock knob explored around her still slimy pussy. "I was daydreaming," she whispered, "I didn't know you were getting naked." Her ass exploded in pain and a deafening slap resounded through her bedroom simultaneously with Michael bottoming out into her pussy in one push.

"I said quiet," Michael hissed inches from her ear. "This is gonna be a lot of fun, but you better pay attention."

"Owww," that hurt Connie whined to herself. "Ahhh, ewww, yesss. That's more like it," she thought. Fully seated on his cock, Connie twisted her hips back, forcing his rock-hard shaft to stir around her steamy pussy. Her hands still tied behind her back, her sensitive breasts rubbed against her bed's comforter with every plunge. Michael's hands left her hips and strongly grasped her elbows, left handy for grasping by her bondage. "Eiiii," she inwardly shrieked, "that hurts my shoulders. But, … ohhh how nice in my pussy. Yes, you strong bastard!"

No longer caring what Michael thought she quietly whispered back to him, "Hurt me later if you want, but fuck me now. Fuck, … fuck, … oh yes, fuck me! Harder, … nice." Her voice drifted quieter and quieter as she concentrated on his fucking. "Oh, yes. Fuck me. Then let's torture that horrible creature downstairs. Please, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Michael didn't last too long on this round of sex. His libido was fully charged up from manhandling two sexy women and the thought of tonight's activities. When her pussy started to first clamp down in the beginnings of her orgasm, Michael let loose with a load of creamy jism into his condom and fell limply across her back. Connie kept squirming and coming like a string of firecrackers until he finally fell off, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water with her continued orgasms.

Still naked, Michael padded back down to the kitchen to check on his new captive. Carolyn whimpered with fear when he ran his hands down her slender form. There was not an ounce of fat on the twenty-six year old. "She does have nice legs and a tight build," Michael told himself. "I bet she looks great running naked. Shame about the tits though; maybe we can increase them a cup size or three."

Carolyn whimpered again as the man's hands fondled her body. She felt like a piece of meat hanging from a hook; inspected for quality. A shudder rippled through her body and she started to cry. Now his hands were grasping and twisting her tits; they were achy and sore from the stimulation. The exploring hands left and she strained to determine where he was and wondered what was next. He came back and started to tug on sections of her tattered clothing. "He's cutting off my clothes," she cried to herself. Her body started to tremble with fear and she felt like she was going to pass out. She sagged and his hands caught her. "He must have cut the rope hanging me," she thought as her knees hit the floor. He walked away again. "The cool floor feels good. Oh, God! I'm naked now."

Michael almost felt sorry for the girl. She seemed on the verge of falling apart. He started to rethink his plan of permanently acquiring her now. "Maybe I will do the Doctor Patricia Kay drug cocktail instead. Hmmm, that way we can have some fun and document it for later blackmail. Ingrid and I can get her anytime. Oh, what about taking her in for training in Miami and then returning her to the islands? She could go back to work and in the off hours be Connie's live-in pain slut. Yes, that's a plan. Two girls captured for the price of one. Connie will have to do whatever she is told after this." Always willing to adjust his thinking, and especially happy to have a worthwhile plan, Michael hummed to himself as he thought over his next moves.

Michael was ready for the next steps. He slid a two-inch nylon shipping strap behind her knees and then folded the knees up to her tits. The nylon webbing went around her shoulders and met at her back. He slid the free end through the sliding lock assembly and yanked the strap tight. Carolyn's upper arms and thighs were now locked tight against her torso. Michael fed another strap from her ankles, around her lower arms, and again around her back. After tightening, this strap tightly held her feet near her ass and simultaneously held her arms tightly to her sides. Using the extra rolls of packaging tape, Michael wrapped her entire body, essentially tying her into a helpless ball. The blindfold and gag were left in place. He rolled her entire body into a soft duffle bag from Connie's closet. It was now time to get Connie ready to go.

Michael gently shook the napping woman. She still lay naked and emotionally exhausted on the bedroom floor. The kitchen knife made short work of the bonds on her wrists and Connie was free, except for the black dog collar and chain dog leash.

Connie's hands crept up to the leash and collar and started to fumble with the catches.

Michael Moore placed his hands on hers and said, "No, not yet. Let's leave off the ropes but leave the collar and chain for now. It will serve to remind you of what you've been through and what could happen if we need punishment." Michael gave her a passionate kiss and added, "But, you've been pretty damn good so far," and smiled affectionately at her. "Time to get to my boat and I will work on dinner while you play with your friend. Deal?"

Connie grinned and nodded. "What about clothes?"

"Shower and dress in anything you want, as long as the collar and leash stay. Bring a bag with toothbrush and stuff. Be sure to bring soft-soled shoes, like workout shoes. For clothing, I recommend a blouse, bra, skirt, and no panties. I think you will want to be ready to ride your new bitch later."

Connie pulled back and looked astonished. "But, I'm not a lesbian."

Michael laughed and said, "Look, Connie, when you are in charge and she has to obey like a slave, it is hardly lesbianism. In fact, she isn't a woman. She is your sex slave, … your living and … breathing vibrator, … your imagination is the limit. Maybe she's just a set of lips and a tongue. No, it's not lesbianism." Michael kissed her partially naked form again and whispered into her ear, "I am visualizing you holding the tip of my hard cock and guiding it into her reluctant asshole. So, if we do it that way, … is it you or I that take her anal cherry? Hmmm, think about how delicious that would be. Imagine Carolyn twisting in agony as you look into her eyes and listen to her whimpers through the tight gag."

Connie couldn't help but moan at the thought. Her cunt contracted and her knees quivered. She grabbed her leash and headed into her bathroom to shower and freshen up.

While Connie was getting ready, Michael used his cell to warn Ingrid to set up shop in the engine compartment and finish acquainting herself with the digital editing system set up there to control the three cameras installed in the master stateroom. Within minutes, they were out of her home and proceeding to the marina. It was late afternoon, still hours from another gorgeous summer evening sunset.

Connie slid out of the passenger side of her car and breathlessly watched as her lover opened the trunk and effortlessly lifted out her large duffle bag containing the helpless Carolyn White. She picked up her own, much smaller overnight bag and followed as he led the way to the marina's pier. When Michael stopped at the huge sailboat, she halted in amazement. "That boat is huge," she told herself. "Your boat is fantastic," she said. "I had no idea that you were such a sailor."

He grinned back at her and said, "Wait until you see the interior. It is luxury afloat." Michael turned back to the boat and nimbly jumped onboard. Still carrying the heavy bag on one shoulder, he reached over and helped Connie somewhat more uncertainly hop aboard the schooner.

Michael set the bag down with a thump and said, "Let me give you the nickel tour and then you can get settled in the master suite." He held his hand out and Connie meekly rummaged through her bag for her leash. She clipped it to her dog collar and handed the free end to Michael. He grinned back and said, "You'll be off leash soon enough and leading your own bitch around."

Connie followed on the tour that ended in the aft master suite. She surveyed the luxurious room. The centerpiece was a queen-sized bed with cabinets beside and above the bed. The room abounded with wood cabinetry and trim. Cozy lamps and ample portholes provided plenty of light. "Oh, Michael, you have a Jacuzzi on your boat. I love relaxing in a tub before or after sex. This is definitely my favorite part of the boat."

Michael made no response other than to pull her towards him and he kissed her deeply as the leash was unclipped. He set the leash on the dresser and said, "I'll be right back with your friend. Remember to watch quietly while I get her prepped for you."

Connie quickly arranged her clothes in a few drawers and then moved into the bathroom to unpack her toiletries. Knowing that Michael's directions were to be followed exactly, she sat down in a comfortable armchair beside the bed and sat down to wait.

Michael climbed up the companionway and headed forward on the boat. He again hefted the bag containing Connie's rival, Carolyn White. Carolyn was thrown unceremoniously on the queen-sized bed beside Connie. Michael unzipped the bag and made sure that Carolyn's nasal passages were clear. Sure that his new toy was safe for the moment, Michael turned to Connie and said, "I have some toys that we need to outfit Carolyn with before we start. Give me about thirty minutes to get everything." Without waiting for a response, Michael turned and climbed up the companionway back onto the deck. He glanced quickly at his watch, and shaking his head, moved off the boat, down the pier. It was already 5:00 and Michael was a little late for a meeting with two hot chicks.

Ingrid sat in the much less luxurious accommodations of the engine room. Remarkably, it was well ventilated and cool with its own air vent from the boat's air handling system. She sat in a hastily borrowed folding chair in front of a makeshift worktable, staring at three laptop computer screens. Two of the laptops displayed wireless video images from IK-WB11 1.4 megapixel progressive scan CCDs mounted in corner bookcases. The two miniature wireless cameras in the master cabin sent flawless signals. The laptops' video display software provided remote pan and tilt features, an alarm, and motion detection. The third display came from a high-resolution camera mounted in the bulkhead directly facing the bed. Like the IK-WB11s, it was remotely adjustable, but was hard-wired to its laptop via a firewire. The laptops were configured into a network controlled by video production software, everything installed by the same local video arts and visual production firm that Michael Moore had used to record an earlier evening of humiliation for Connie Baxter and Ingrid Gaviard. Two cameras were currently focused on the bed and one camera was strategically aimed at the chair Connie was sitting in so primly. Ingrid grinned; she knew she was in for a long night, but it would have its own excitement.

Ingrid adjusted the field of view to include both Connie and Carolyn. She grinned, knowing the massive hard drives were already capturing the video feed. On the screen, Connie was staring daggers at the lithesome blonde strapped in uncomfortable, naked bondage. Connie's hands slid primly from her hips toward her pubic mound, forcing her skirt-clad legs apart. The fingers quested around her mound, the stimulation heating up the voluptuous real-estate agent. Ingrid zoomed in on another camera and switched recording from the wide shot to a narrow one of the hands squirming around the girl's crotch. "Naughty girl," she whispered as Connie's hand drifted down the skirt only to snake back up under it. The other hand joined the first and the woman's skirt slipped up, exposing a naked pussy with both hands furiously frigging away. "Bingo, the show begins," Ingrid said. The video was off to a perfect start, fulfilling her Master's prediction. "This will be great! He will be so pleased." Her fingers danced across the keyboard setting up the scene title and then cataloging the scene. It was the first of many delicious clips compiled for editing into the final video.

An earlier cell phone call from Michael had wakened his college girl / hookers in their motel room. Sophia, the blonde, had answered the call. Despite being a little tired from a late night assignation with a pair of businessmen on holiday, Sophia and Rochelle eagerly took on his challenge. Michael asked the two twenty-two years olds to visit the best sex shop they knew of on the island and purchase a long laundry list of items. Sophia laughed when told she would be equipping Michael's new toy, a sailing yacht, with sex toys. The girls had free reign in selecting anything else not on his list. Michael's only additional requests; remove the wrapping from each item and leave the receipts in the bag so he could reimburse them.

Feeling the luckiest man alive, Michael left the boat and headed up the pier to the Marina's restaurant. He found the brunette Rochelle sitting at the bar with her purse claiming the stool next to her. Michael walked up behind the young woman and catching her eyes in the bar mirror, hugged her strongly from behind. His hands slid around her trim hips to meet at her taut belly. "Hey girl, he said. "How's your summer going?"

Surprisingly, the brunette laid her head down against his arm and burst into silent tears. Michael pulled her off the stool and led her toward a booth in the corner of the bar area. She slumped down in the seat and continued to sob in apparent misery. Michael's face hardened at the sight and he waved away the approaching waitress. He slid in next to the distraught girl and wrapped his arms around her quivering form. After several seemingly never-ending minutes, he whispered into her ear, "Rochelle, tell me what is the matter? Maybe I can help?"

Rochelle shook her head slightly and nestled closer against Michael. She didn't speak.

Michael continued to hold the girl, trying to think of a way to break her out of her introspective funk. He decided to take charge of the situation and stood up abruptly, leaving Rochelle to sprawl down onto the cushioned seat. A twenty-dollar bill on the gleaming bar, a curt, "Two double vodkas on the rocks," and he was back at the booth.

Rochelle felt a bruisingly strong hand clasp her upper arm and she was yanked up off the safety of the leather bench. Before she could open her mouth to protest, Michael continued his tugging and she stumbled after him, struggling to regain her balance without falling on her face. Rochelle saw he was pulling her to the women's restroom. She tried to pull back, but his grip and momentum were unbreakable. The door whispered shut behind her and she turned to ask Michael what was going on, "Mich…" when her face exploded in agony. Rochelle felt her head spin sideways from the brutal slap and then her other cheek was struck a matching blow. Her knees buckled from the shock and she slid down his body to her knees. Her hands balanced herself on the back of his knees, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Strong stomach contractions were all the warning she had before her empty stomach churned and vomited acidic bile up her esophagus and onto the tile behind Michael's shoes. Even in her misery, she was aware that Michael had grasped her under the arms and kept her from falling forward onto her own vomit.

The woman between his feet was wracked with spasms as she began the dry-heaving stage of throwing up. Michael, still stone-faced, lifted the limp woman up and moved her toward the vanity. Her unresisting form was bent forward over the counter and her face titled into the sink. The stream of ice-cold water flowing out of the faucet, elicited a weak response from Rochelle. Michael forced the head to stay in place with one hand while his other sluiced the vomit from her chin. Two fingers forced her mouth open and his hand diverted clean water in to rinse out the taste of bile. Michael again manhandled the woman into a toilet stall and after setting her down on a toilet seat, kicked the door shut behind them. He straddled her seated form and grabbed her head with both hands.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Rochelle shook herself alert and tried to find the words to describe what she felt. She was still dazedly mulling over the words when his hand covered her mouth and her nipple was squeezed so tightly that she was sure it was being twisted off. The pain continued and Michael's head drew near hers.

"Rochelle," Michael started, "if you don't start talking I am going to take charge of finding out what is going on. This is pissing me off way too much. Start talking."

The painful twisting eased up and the hand against her mouth slowly relaxed its stranglehold grip before gently sliding away. She gasped a deep breath and started. "Last night," she hesitantly gasped out, still trying to regain her breath; "some businessmen picked up Sophia and I at a bar. They liked us and after finding out we were hookers, agreed to pay us for the night. It was a good gig, a thousand for each of us. We went to a nice restaurant for dinner." She took a deep breath and continued, "While we were at the restaurant, we bumped into a friend of theirs that was with another woman. She was hooking, like us. The men thought it was funny, all three with hookers for the night. Well, we stayed together during dinner and dancing afterwards. It was actually a lot of fun. Sophia and I like our clients to be happy and it was obvious that they were having a lot of fun."

"Oh, Michael," she cried, "I'm so ashamed of what I've become. It was so much fun pretending to be whores and making so much money. It was so perfect this morning. You called and we had a lot of fun buying your stuff. An hour or so ago, the bitch from last night called and told us she was our new manager and that we were her whores now. Michael, last night we told her we were college students and doing this for tuition and expense money. She has pictures of us fucking and playing around last night; with all three men. One night's pictures and we look like wanton sluts. Unless we cooperate, she will tell the school, our friends, and family about us. And, she wants us to work tonight at a house rented by a college fraternity."

Rochelle whimpered and cried for a few seconds and wailed, "It's gonna be a gangbang, Michael; she says we have to work at a gangbang. Our share is only two hundred dollars each for being fucked by over forty guys. The bitch says we are now only common whores working for her, not freelance high-paid hookers. As our pimp, she controls the take, five thousand dollars for the job." She broke down again and started silently sobbing.

Michael silently hugged the distraught girl and thought about the irony of the situation. Here he was incensed that some bimbo was controlling his friends and making them participate in a gangbang when he and Rochelle had done the exact same thing to Ingrid and Connie. Life was strange sometimes. One man's enjoyable blackmail was a crime to another. His head whirled with the possibilities and outcomes from different approaches of helping Rochelle and Sophia. Michael Moore cursed inwardly as he realized that his nice enjoyable, and somewhat complicated night, just became way more complex.

The cowed girl was puzzled by Michael's questions. "Rochelle, describe the girl you met last night. Is she good looking? Oh, and where is my stuff that you two just bought?"

--L--A--T--E--R--

Connie Baxter was amused by the change of plans, even if it delayed her chance at personal revenge until later on. Michael had explained to her about his two acquaintances, Sophia Lenz and Rochelle Grosso, and their summer plans for having fun while earning college money. She took in stride that fact that they were part-time hookers and earned money by prostituting themselves. Fortunately, she did not know that both young women were involved in her vaguely remembered night of lust and debauchery with Ingrid Gaviard. Connie was also incensed that another woman would try and take over the girls' lives by becoming their pimp. Michael explained that Connie could help humiliate both her rival, Carolyn White, and the would-be pimp. Connie was eager to help, viewing the evening as a heroic rescue of two slightly soiled doves.

The woman aspiring to become a pimp was named Rosella Koch, a twenty-seven year-old with a heart of stone. Sophia and Rochelle described her as a good-looking redhead, thin and leggy, with nice tight tits. She sounded like a redheaded version of Carolyn White; both very fuckable bitches with a need for character softening. Rosella had contracted with the treasurer of a nationally recognized fraternity to bring three sluts to their beach rental cottage for an evening of partying. The five-thousand dollar fee triggered Rosella's scheme to take over as business manager for Rochelle and Sophia; thus keeping most of the fee.

Rosella expected the women at her own little beach bungalow at 7:00. Michael and his conspirators had little time to prepare their double-cross. Sophia had been cued in via cell phone conversation with Michael. Connie was helping Rochelle to shower and put her looks back together again after her physical and mental collapse in the marina restaurant. That left Michael to prepare their unwilling partner in the evenings plan, Carolyn White.

Michael let Connie and Rochelle use his cabin to prepare while he dealt with Carolyn in a forward guest cabin. She lay, still strapped in a painful bent over position on the bed while he rummaged through the bags of toys purchased that morning by Rochelle and Sophia. Michael cut the strapping tape off her wrists and slipped a pair of wrist cuffs onto each of her slim arms. Each leather cuff was steel reinforced and included a small black leather bag sewn onto the cuff. Carolyn's hands had to be tightly clenched to fit into the restrictive bag and once buckled on, her hands were useless. Michael next loosened her bondage enough to slip a leather belt around her waist. The wrist cuffs were padlocked onto D-rings on the belt, tightly holding her wrists at waist level. A set of ankle cuffs were attached to her legs and a short hobble chain padlocked between them. More miniature locks were added to keep the belts and cuffs from being removed during the party. The woman's makeshift gag holding her gamy black panties was removed to be replaced with a devilish ringgag device. Unlike a normal ringgag, this one had mouthpiece-like recesses in the top and bottom to slip tightly over the victim's incisors. The sides of the ringgag included a winged ratchet mechanism built into the thick ring, allowing the circle of steel to open upward and downward into a growing oval. The threads on the device provided enough mechanical advantage to stress Carolyn's jaws to be breaking point. Thus, the ring was unremoveable even without the addition of a bulky, leather harness contraption. As a final bit of fiendishness, the wings slipped out, rendering the device nearly impossible to ratchet loose without the wings as unlocking keys. Michael carefully slid the tiny wings into his wallet. His bitch was now ready to unwrap.

Carolyn thought her jaw was going to break off her face from the agony of her overly stretched jaw musculature. The pain didn't lessen; it remained a throbbing, aching soreness. Unable to swallow, drool puddled in her mouth and dribbled down the side of her face. Blessedly, she felt the heavy nylon straps loosen further. Her first deep breath in hours shuddered through her diaphragm. The man unwrapped the heavy layer of wrapping covering her eyes. The sticky tape pulled painfully on her scalp. "Hoooo, hop it," she moaned. The bright light dazzled her eyes momentarily before she focused on the rugged handsome man she had abused in the real estate office. "Horry, horry. Hep hee," she begged. She was sorry but she knew wishing it was different would not change what she had done. Her joints ached so much from her tight bondage that she could barely move. The man tightly grabbed one of her breasts and held on as if it was his. She moaned in despair when she heard him say, "We gotta get you ready girl, you're gonna have a wild time tonight. It's your opening act as a prostitute. Did you know you're partying with forty frat boys tonight?" He jammed something into her pussy and she felt a cool sensation spread along her inner walls. Unable to resist, she was rolled onto her tummy and the same thing went into her ass. "Gotta get these holes lubed up and ready for fun tonight," he muttered. "Girl, you gonna be a three-holer. You know what that means?" he taunted her.

Michael admired the slim ass in front of his face; her cheeks were streaked with sex lube from her pussy and rectum. He held up a massive black dildo that the girls probably got as a joke. It was easily eighteen inches long and was massively thick the entire length of the ribbed giant. The head was apple-sized. Michael nestled the head around in the slight recess at her asshole and then shifted the now-slippery cock to her hairless pussy. The black device looked positively obscene next to the tiny pussy lips of the woman. Without further foreplay, Michael buried the monster into her cunt in one smooth movement, halting only when the giant head thumped hard against her cervix. Easily seven inches of the dildo remained outside her cunt, leaving eleven inches to punish her insides. Michael cupped three fingers tightly together and jammed all three deep into her barely prepared ass. The woman had started to writhe in pain when the cock struck her cervix and then she wailed in anguish at the additional assault on her nether passage. Michael grinned at the response and rolled his fingers around, deeply stretching her anal ring and smearing the slippery gel around her intestinal wall.

--L--A--T--E--R--

Connie sat in the rear seat of her own car, tightly clenching the leash leading to Carolyn who was buckled into the seat beside her. Except for a pair of high heels, Carolyn was naked, a fetching sight with her ringgag and leather waist strap. Connie smirked at the terrified woman and looked down at herself with approval. She was wearing the outfit she had selected earlier that day for an evening at dinner with Michael. "It is still appropriate for leading a bitch like Carolyn on her debut as a prostitute," she thought. She kicked her sandal-clad feet and admired her legs in the tight sundress she wore. It felt deliciously naughty to be in public without panties or bra. She sniffed surreptitiously to be sure the musky scent she smelled was not coming from her own dripping wet cunt. "No," she thought with relief, "the smell is coming from Carolyn. The bitch must have gotten hot when Michael loosened her up earlier." She had quietly moaned to herself in lust when he described how he prepared the woman by jamming a dildo into her cunt and then nearly fisting her ass. "The bitch deserves whatever happens," she whispered.

She glanced up the Michael and Rochelle in the front seat. "Rochelle looks much more relaxed and composed," she thought. "I did a good job cleaning her up," she smugly congratulated herself.

Actually, Rochelle now looked normal. Gone were the puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. The girl was much more relaxed and mentally ready for the upcoming evening. She was whispering into her cell phone, letting Sophia know exactly where they were located. The plan was to arrive simultaneously at Rosella Koch's bungalow.

Michael grinned with confidence as he drove toward the rapidly setting sun. He hoped the girls didn't pick up his uncertainties about his plan. "Too much can go wrong," he mused to himself. A glance into his mirror confirmed that Sophia had pulled her car behind them. The girls' rundown vehicle was unmistakable. Rochelle closed her cell phone and indicated that Rosella's driveway was just ahead. The game was on.

Michael Moore's plan was not subtle. He simply stood back when Sophia and Rochelle knocked on the door and strode in confidently after them. Twin taser darts magically appeared in her slim throat and she dropped like a rock. As planned, Sophia and Rochelle quickly moved through the bungalow to be sure that there were no other houseguests. Rosella had disclosed that she lived alone and had no family on the island. She was from somewhere out west and was estranged from her family and friends. Michael quickly bent the woman over and handcuffed her wrists to her ankles while he prepared her bondage. The cruel ringgag was first. While cranking the ring tightly into his mouth, he heard Connie Baxter walk into the entry tugging a reluctant Carolyn. She was covered with a shapeless Mumu-style dress, arms and all.

Sure that the quaint two bedroom cottage was empty, Sophia and Rochelle returned with Rosella's shaving gear. Her cunt was soon denuded and as bald as a ten-year-old's pussy. Michael finished cutting off her clothes while the girls were busy. Within minutes of their arrival, Rosella Koch's control of her life had drastically shifted.

Then Michael sprang his surprise on Sophia and Rochelle. "Girls, head into the kitchen. Connie has some paperwork for you two to sign. She is your purchasing agent for this house. Rosella is going to sell it to you momentarily."

Sophia and Rochelle stood dumbstruck before they figured out what he was saying. They looked at each other, swept glances around the darling little two bedroom bungalow, and jumped into each other's arms. Michael just grinned and focused his attention back to the little padlocks he was feeding through the restraining latches on Rosella's waist belt and cuffs. The girls shrieked and ran into the kitchen. Their joy was infectious and Connie joined in. Only Rosella and Carolyn were unhappy with developments.

Rosella sat in her own kitchen fully restrained except for her right arm. Twin burn marks between her breasts attested to the fact that Michael had acquainted her with the painful effect of a stun gun. Every muscle in her body ached from the muscle stress induced from the taser and then two high-impedance discharges from the stun gun. From extensive experience, Michael Moore – also known as Aaron Clarke, head of the East Coast Slavers Organization, knew that the gun's 625 thousand volts of high frequency energy pulsed deeply through muscles, nearly instantly depleted blood sugar by converting it to lactic acid. The neurological impulses also traveled throughout a human body, interrupting muscle movement, causing disorientation and loss of balance. After his little demonstration of what punishment would start with, Rosella was eager to cooperate when he brought her into the kitchen. Michael made no explanations, he simply demanded that she sign and pointed out where. Within two minutes, Rosella Koch no longer owned her bungalow, it had been signed away for two hundred-fifty thousand dollars.

After Connie led the two bondage twins, Rosella and Carolyn, back into the living room, Sophia turned to Michael, "Michael, this is wonderful; but, we have no money to buy this place."

Michael smiled and said, "Girls, don't worry. You get this place for free. Connie is coming into a lot of money this week and she will establish a money trail that goes from you two, into escrow, to Rosella Koch, back into an escrow account for her, and then the money will vanish along with Rosella. Meanwhile, Connie gets her money back, Rosella already signed her acceptance letter stating she got the money in cash, and you two have a free bungalow."

Connie smiled at the girls and said, "It's true. All very illegal, but true; nobody will ever prove otherwise. Trust me; I'm a very experienced real estate agent."

Michael chimed in, "True and I will make sure that Rosella finds another occupation beside that of pimp. She will end up a full-time whore somewhere with her own, very strict, caretaker. Welcome to your new home girls. Remember though, our next meeting is with some frat boys who will pay you for your last job as hookers. After tonight, that part of your life is over for good. After all this is over, I will explain the new ground rules of your lives. They will focus your lives more on school and careers."

Author: Desert Dog ****** E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

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