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Now this is
a real bore. Boyfriend announces this morning that there’s a big auction coming
up. We’ve got quite a few pieces in it and he and I are both going this time.
I’m really looking forward to making small talk with his associates and clients
– not! Still, I checked out the duty roster on boyfriend’s PC and managed to
switch Jack in for one of the other guards that was assigned to the trip; so at
least there might be some opportunity for fun.
We’re
taking the seaplane, apparently. Not enough time to do it on the yacht. That’s
a pain already ‘cos it means I’m only taking one slave girl to look after me
and as you can guess, the one that’s OK with clothes isn’t so good with hair
and make-up and vice versa plus she’s got to double up with looking after
boyfriend. Boyfriend wants two heavies along so there’s Jack and one of his
buddies as well. The other one’s better built than Jack, maybe, but he hasn’t
got too many brain cells in his head if you ask me.
It’s a real
dull flight. Jack and slave girl in the back seat, me and boyfriend in the
middle, Jack’s buddy and pilot up front. The trouble with these small planes is
they’re as noisy as hell so I don’t even bother to try to make conversation and
stare out of the window. Luckily it’s only about three hours flying time until
the pilot drops us down on a lagoon that looks pretty much like the one we’ve
just left. Over on the dock there’s a bunch of smiling men in suits to welcome
boyfriend and we’re ushered up to the big house where our host for the event
hangs out.
Well, I
thought boyfriend was pretty well heeled but our place is nothing to this.
Bigger pool, entire sauna suite and the slave accommodation is more like a
private zoo. They even had little labels up on the cage doors saying where the
occupants had come from, that sort of thing. They all looked like they belonged
to an endangered species if you ask me.
Jack and
his buddy are off to see what ideas they can pick up; boyfriend sends our slave
up to our suite with the bags to get unpacked and we head on to the pool side
bar for drinks.
As soon as
we get there, I know I’m going to find it real hard keeping my cool for the
week-end. Our host’s three live-in ladies plus their pals from associates of
boyfriend’s circle are lounging back and they all manage a “look what the cat’s
dragged in” glance as I wander up. They’re all looking like they each stepped
out of their own designer store – Versace, D&G, DKNY, and I’m looking –
well, like I stepped off a three hour flight in a pokey little seaplane.
They’re all very sympathetic in a way that says, gee we’re so grateful that
you’ve given us this opportunity to look down our noses; and I’m being sweet as
pie, ‘cos I don’t know which if any of them I can afford to piss off. Boyfriend
of course doesn’t notice any of it. In fact his tongue’s hanging out
contemplating the full set of silicon enhanced demonstrations of the plastic
surgeon’s art that these girls have on display.
Jack turns
up to rescue me with a “I’m afraid your slave girl, needs some direction, if
you could come up to the suite” message. Boyfriend seems pretty relaxed about
me leaving; his attention is all on the poolside talent. Unsurprisingly Jack’s
motives aren’t entirely altruistic and as soon as I’m through the door of the
suite his tongue’s in my ear and the two of us are grappling against the wall
of the bedroom so enthusiastically that we practically fall into the walk in
closet.
Slavegirl
practically drops a pile of clothes when she comes in to put them away and sees
what we’re up to, but she knows enough to keep quiet, so why should I care?
When I’ve finished with Jack I give her a few cuts to the buttocks so boyfriend
can see why I came back to the suite. She’s not too happy about that so I lock
a ball gag on her for the evening just to remind her who’s in charge.
Boyfriend
turns up and says we’re invited for dinner which gives me the chance to look an
idiot yet again. He says can I look nice? That usually means something pretty
slutty and while I don’t mind around the place at home, here it doesn’t seem
right. Still, I do as he asks and squeeze myself into something short and
tight, get slave girl to back-comb my hair and squeeze my feet into heels that
only make sense if you know you’re going to spend most of the evening sitting
down.
Boyfriend
says, “Wow! You look great!” but the look I’m getting from slavegirl isn’t so
encouraging. When we get downstairs it turns out she was right. The rest of the
women are all looking like they’ve stepped out of Harpers & Queen and I’m
looking like I should be on the curb side, chewing gum and smiling at men in
cars. I feel like shit, boyfriend doesn’t notice, and the girls are really
sympathetic – like fuck!
I
compensate by getting more wine into me than is strictly a good idea and almost
end up in a cat fight with our host’s number one girl. Boyfriend,
diplomatically, eases me out and takes me up to bed but, since when we get
there he’s sounding off about me getting drunk without even thinking that it
might be just a little bit his fault, there’s no fun had there.
Breakfast
the following morning is OK. Everyone’s real polite and trying to make like
nothing happened which suits me. Then we’re off to view the lots for the
auction. I don’t know why we’re bothering – I thought we were just selling, not
buying but boyfriend says he wants to keep up with what the others are picking
up and the sort of thing they are offering. So he drags me around the sale
cages and I’m supposed to be interested while he’s chatting to the cage-keepers
and rummaging through his sale catalogue.
As usual -
or so boyfriend says – there’s three parts to the sale, each with their own set
of cages. Firstly there’s the re-sales or as it says in the catalogue,
“Pre-owned”; by which I understand second-hand (at least) and probably set up
with all sorts of undesirable attributes depending on how many owners they’ve
had and who they were. They all look pretty hard cases to me but I guess after
you’ve been through this sort of thing even only once you toughen up –
leastways if you’re going to survive at all.
About all
we get from them as we walk by the cages is a sullen scowl. For the ones that
boyfriend shows an interest in the cage keeper gets them to stand up and turn
about. Then the sullen scowl gives way to resigned obedience.
Next to
them are the newly trained. All of them, at least as far as the catalogue goes,
are first time slaves. They’ve been through training so they’ve had the rough
edges knocked off them and they should know the basic stuff. Looking at them in
their cages is a whole different deal. They’re all eager to please, all
desperately believing that if only they can show they’ll be good slaves they’ll
get a good owner and an easier life. They’ll learn.
Then
there’s the last lot. Untrained. Pick-ups. New girls. “Guaranteed,” as it says
in the catalogue, “no more than three weeks from the date of their original
collection, without any training beyond that needed to restrain and subdue them
since their collection.” Boyfriend thinks these are the most interesting. They
all look scared. Some of them are still in the tatters of the clothes they were
snatched in. None of them look much use to me.
Boyfriend
goes off to the auction. I go and sulk by the pool. The other girls stay out of
the way.
We’re on
the flight back. Jack’s in back with slavegirl. I’m looking out the window at
the water below. Boyfriend isn’t saying anything.
“So, did
you get everything you went for?” I ask him.
Boyfriend
nods. “Pretty much,” he says. Then he looks at me. “Pity you didn’t seem to get
on with the other girls, though.”
“I thought
it was OK,” I says, lying through my teeth but suddenly I’m worried.
“Hmm,” says
boyfriend, sounding unconvinced. “As long as you’re happy.”
He carries
on being quiet all the way back.
Boyfriend
is being pretty dull. He didn’t get back ‘til late last night and then all I
could interest him in was a quick tumble before he was snoring like the pig
he’s getting to be. I spend all day hanging around the place; at least he could
manage to show a little interest when he turns up.
Still on
the bright side, I managed to persuade Jack to take me on a pick up.
It’s always
seemed like it should be pretty exciting. Jack’s always going on about, “Boy
you should have heard her squeal when we grabbed her” and “Wow, couldn’t she
grunt even with her mouth stuffed full like it was.” Boyfriend had been pretty
lukewarm about the idea when I mentioned it. “Could be risky,” he’d said.
“Don’t think the snatch squad would be keen. They like to do their own thing.”
In the end
he agreed I could go if I could persuade one of them to take me. Then it was
just down to watching out for when Jack was rostered on a pick up. When I saw
he was on the job sheet I put on my best pretty-please look and eventually he
gave in. He says it shouldn’t be too risky. There’s three of his team picking
up five girls holidaying together down on the Keys. They’re all in one villa.
In and out by boat. Simple enough to let me go along.
Jack took
me down to get me kitted out for the pick up today. The regular black fatigues
that they usually wear didn’t do it for me so I’ve had them fixed up a bit. One
of the girls from downstairs is quite handy with a needle and thread. When I
showed up at the boat, there was a low whistle from Jack’s pals that told me
I’d got it right. Teaming the outfit with a pair of combat boots helped. So did
leaving the front zip down a bit, I guess. Jack took a long look at the
cleavage that revealed. Then he gave me one of the kit bags – rope, tape rolls,
cable ties, that sort of thing – to look after.
The
seaplane drops us off with the inflatable just off the Key and we cruise in
just before dawn. We’re off the beach and into the crawl space under the
villa’s sun deck before first light. From there we work around to the side of
the house, break into the cellar and sit down to wait for our moment.
The idea is
to pick them off one or two at a time, get all five secured by the end of the
day and then take them out in the inflatable after sunset. We stay put in the
cellar, hearing movements above us as they get breakfast. I watch through the
cellar light as the first two go out, I could just see their bare legs and the
beach bag they were carrying and heard the others calling out for them to have
a good swim. Then two others leave – heading out to their car, off for some
shopping, we guess. That leaves one in the house and Jack gives us the signal
to get ready.
I pull my
ski-mask on. Jack checks me over, nodded his approval and then pulls the zip up
on my fatigues. I smile under the mask and he grins back. We can hear the one
girl that’s left moving about in the house above us. Two guys go up the steps
to the cellar door. We follow them. They go to the back of the house; us
towards the front. That way if they miss her and she runs, we get to trap her
before she gets to the front door.
As it turns
out we didn’t need to. The other two guys get her under control without any
trouble. They get rope around her wrists. I’d have thought they’d go at it
quickly but this guy takes his time. He’s making sure the ropes lie neatly
around her wrists, that the knots are neat, that the cinching turns are
tightened just so. Pretty fussy I think.
The bigger
of the two drags her through the house, his hand clamped over her mouth so all
she’s getting out is the occasional muffled squeak. She’s kicking back at his
legs but he isn’t taking any notice. He wrestles her upstairs and into one of
the bedrooms. She’s panicking now, thinks she’s going to be raped I guess. We
follow him. He throws her onto the bed and she’s winded. Jack joins in with a
wad of cloth to push into her mouth while our other friend gets some more ropes
around her knees and ankles, just as neat, just as precise. Pretty soon she’s
helpless and quiet. None of us have said a word. Jack gives a thumbs up sign
and then puts a finger to his lips. We listen. Two of the other girls are
coming back. Jack grabs our first captive to keep her quiet. He’s got a knife
out, pressed gains the side of her throat. She gets the idea pretty quickly and
settles down.
It’s the two
getting back from the beach and their swim. I see them - one in a blue bikini,
one in a green one-piece - walking up the path. The one in green has red hair.
She’s drying it off with a yellow towel. The one in blue is swinging a beach
bag. I can see why the team were keen to grab them they all seem to have that
cute, girl next door, look that gets such a good price. I duck back down as
they get close to the house. “Kerry. Kerry!” One of them is calling out.
She doesn’t
get to say anything else. Neither does her friend.
It is just
such an adrenalin rush. By the time we’d got those two trussed up as well I was
feeling really hot. Jack said for me to keep an eye on them - we’d put them in
one of the bedrooms while we waited for the other two to arrive. I wasn’t keen
for Jack to leave me, not because I was worried or anything, I was just so keen
for sex, there and then. He wagged his finger at the suggestion and went back
down stair.
I was
feeling sulky at being abandoned. The first girl we’d snatched was sitting on
the floor. The two others, lying on the bed, hog-tied – their ankles dragged up
behind them to meet their wrists and their elbows pulled together with ropes.
They’re still just in their swimsuits. The girl on the floor is scowling up at
me. The other two aren’t; they’ve been made ready for transport which means
they‘ve got blindfolds – cloth pads over the eyes and plenty of tape to keep
them in place – as well as heavy duty tape gags over well stuffed mouths. All
they are doing is to roll from side to side occasionally as well as groaning
quietly.
Like I
said, the one on the floor is scowling at me. She’s been tied up with her hands
behind her and ropes around her chest, her knees and ankles. There’s a rope a
round her waist that’s tied to her wrists and stopping her wriggling her hands
around. She shuffling around and trying to free herself. Suddenly I see why
they took such a trouble to get the ropes laid down so neatly and tie the knots
so cleanly – it’s going to be obvious if she loosens things off at all. I go
over and push the gun against her side and tell her to relax, that she isn’t
going anywhere, yet. She looks angry more than scared. I check her gag. The
boys had shut her up by stuffing her mouth with a cloth and then tying a strip
torn from her shirt across her mouth. They pushed enough cloth into her mouth
so she hadn’t been able to wad it down at all. She wasn’t having any success in
loosening it.
The two on
the bed don’t know I’m here. One of them – the girl in the blue bikini –
wriggles her head around as if she’s trying to listen. Then she butts her head
against her friend in the green one piece. She’s grunting through her gag,
trying to attract her friend’s attention. She runs her head down alongside her
friend’s arms towards her hands. Its really hard work, the way the boys have
her hog-tied. There’s a lot of grunting, groaning and squealing but eventually
she gets there. She nudges her head against her friend’s hands. “Try and pick
the tape off,” I imagine her thinking. Her friend’s got the idea. She’s trying
to claw at the tape with her fingers. The girl in blue gets a few scratches
from finger nails that are too long for this but then the girl in green’s fingers
finds a loose bit of tape. I’m watching all the time, the two girls on the bed
don’t know I’m there, the one on the floor is grunting, trying to warn them but
they just think she’s encouraging them. The one in green rolls over, pulling
the strip of tape from her friends mouth. Pretty soon she’s coughing and
spluttering, trying to push the wad of cloth out of her mouth with her tongue.
It comes free. “Ahhh,” she goes. “That’s it, Jules, terrific. Now turn over and
I’ll try to free your wrists.” I think it’s pretty unlikely that she’s going to
be able to make any impact on Jack’s knot work with her perfectly braced
dentition but I feel its time to intervene any way.
I slide on
to the bed alongside them. For the first time the girl in blue realises they’re
not alone. I pull her away from her friend, push my hand down over her mouth to
keep her quiet, and pull the knife from my belt. Two snicks, one on either hip,
and I pull her bikini bottoms off. I jam the cloth wad back in her mouth and
tie the bikini across it to keep it there while I grab some more tape. I can’t
be bothered to untie the blue cloth gag, I just plaster the tape over the top
of it. She’s groaning again. Her friend in green is confused by what’s going on
so I let the pair of them into the secret and tell them that I’m here as their
babysitter and they’d better forget about pulling any more stunts like that.
Moments
later Jack comes in, sees what I’ve done and gives me another thumbs up before
pointing to the window. I guess he means the other two are coming back and sure
enough there’s a slamming of car doors from outside that says they’ve finished
their shopping trip.
There’s the
sound of a door opening and closing from downstairs and a girl’s voice calling,
“Kerry, we’re back.” Then there’s a shout of “No!”, muffled cries, a thump and
a crash. One of Jack’s pals turns up a minute later, pushing a girl in front
him. She’s got her hands up, saying “Who are you people? You can’t do this to…”
and then when she sees Kerry and the others, “Oh! No! No!” Jack turns up with
his other pal, carrying the last girl. She’s unconscious, slumped limply
between them, jack carrying her shoulders, the other guy her feet. Jack puts
her down on the floor dragging her wrists behind her back and tying them with rope
with a speed born of practice. The other girl is pushed down on a chair and
tied to it. She’s begging not to be tied, begging not to be gagged. With the
tape over her mouth the protest stops but from her eyes you can see she’s
terrified.
I’m thinking,
sure you’re scared. Scared of being robbed. Scared of being raped. Scared of
being left here helpless. How scared would you be if you really knew what was
coming? How much worse it was going to be than any of the things you’ve
imagined so far? The training? The punishment? The ways that you’re going to be
used?
They’ve
finished tying up the two newcomers. Jack’s pals go back downstairs to clear
up. Jack says to me, “You OK?”
I say, “You
bet. Do you want to know how OK?” and I slide the zip down on my combat
fatigues. Jack doesn’t need another suggestion. He knows the other two are
going to be busy for a bit so he’s pushing me back against the wall of the
bedroom, his hands all over my tits, his ski mask pushing against mine with his
tongue in my mouth. I’m pushing back at him, squeezing his arse with my hands
and pulling him against me. Kerry and the girl on the chair are grunting into
their gags and that just urges me on. He’s just humping me through his combat
fatigues and mine but that’s enough to bring me off, especially as I watch our
captives struggling over his shoulder. Kerry and the girl on the chair are
looking even more shocked and distressed than they were. I’m thinking, boy, if
this upsets you, wait until you get out to the island! One of Jack’s pals calls
from downstairs. He says, “Shit! Sorry darling, gotta work,” and backs off.
As he
leaves he whispers to the girl on the chair, “She’s a hot bitch, isn’t she?”
which just gets her even more distressed and sets her off struggling against the
ropes. I give her a slap to calm her down. Maybe I’m getting into this after
all. I stand and watch them struggle until its time to go. It’s the most fun
I’ve had in a while.
I mean
people look around here and think this is all fine and dandy – island paradise,
tropical climate, lounging by the lagoon, waited on hand and foot. Don’t get me
wrong – that’s great and I’m sure not complaining. But there are drawbacks.
Like this morning.
One of the
problems of this business is we can’t really use scheduled flights so it’s
always difficult to tell when folk are going to arrive. So I’m looking forward
to a relaxing start to the morning in bed with my man when the phone goes. The
control room’s worried, there’s a plane coming in that they don’t know about.
It’s flying low, practically wave skimming, what should they do about it?
So there
goes my relaxing morning. My feller is out of bed faster than you can say “What
the fuck?” and I’m left sitting around painting my toenails for something to
do. So, of course, when room service turns up with breakfast they just get to
see the lady of the property lazing about when actually I’m just waiting for
him to get back so we can get on with his usual morning fun. One thing I have
learned down the years is he gets quite tetchy if he doesn’t get his morning
amusement but no-one thanks me for keeping him sweeter than he otherwise would
be; do they?
This time
it turns out that it’s one of the buyers from the auction come over to take a
look at the place without the courtesy of phoning up first. He gets to cruise
the cells and the training block while his woman gets to hang out by the pool
and of course I’m supposed to entertain her. So we’re both laying there,
sipping on a couple of Mai Tai’s when Jack walks by on his way to bring a
little discomfort into someone’s day.
He sees her
legs and he’s watching them all the way up to her waist. She just smiles over
her sunglasses and I’m thinking, “Say one word bitch and I’ll put you in that
pool with a ton of concrete chained to your ankles.” What I say is, “He’s kind
of cute, isn’t he? Boyfriend picks some great staff.”
She gives
me a butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth look and says, “Oh heavens, I never
notice the help.”
I’m still
glowering when boyfriend gets back with customer to pick up his woman and take
themselves off. He can see I’m angry but he doesn’t say anything until they’ve
gone and then all he says is, “Would it hurt you so much to be nice to people?
I’m getting pissed that you don’t get on with the customers.” To which my
response is definitely not one that ends up with him getting his usual morning
bounce and he goes off with a sore head.
Still, let
him sulk. He’ll take it out on somebody and he’ll come back happy enough. I’ll
find Jack later on – said he’d give me some scuba lessons and I know a very
quiet cave around the far side of the island. Maybe we won’t get too wet but we
can have some fun anyway.
If the
guards want to bitch ‘cos boyfriend’s a bit grumpy, let ‘em. I don’t see why I
should feel responsible for keeping him chirpy all the time. Fuck them. I’ve
got better things to do than worry about being popular.
Postscript – a note clipped to the front
of the journal.
Boss,
We sorted
out your girlfriend like you asked. Like you said, it’s not you, it’s her.
She’s downstairs in number five with the fetters on and a ball gag locked on
her. She put up a bit of a struggle. Nothing we couldn’t handle but she’s got a
few bruises and lumps. Still we’ll get her put through basics in time for the
next auction and you can draw a line under her.
You said
you wanted to clear things with her dad, ‘cos it wasn’t his fault. One of the
boys asked him how he wanted us to handle it and he was OK about things. Turns
out he wasn’t too sure if his princess was actually his princess, if you know what I mean. Just he’d never bothered
with the DNA bit. Anyway we agreed a compensation plan which involved snatching
girlfriend’s mother. That went without any problems; just a regular pick up on
her way home from work. Not sure how the market is for MILF’s right now and
we’re not talking Stacy’s Mom here but she looks pretty fit for her age, so we
shouldn’t lose anything on it. We shipped over the Asian girl that girlfriend’s
dad asked for. He seems pretty pleased with her, reckons she’ll be a bit more
fun in the sack than his wife was, so I think we can reckon that’s all squared
off.
I thought
you’d want to see this. I found it in the drawer of her dressing table when we
were clearing her things out. It doesn’t make pleasant reading in places. I’ve
had her regular slave girl put into one of the cages in case you wanted to chat
with her about any of this stuff.
When you’ve
read this, we need to decide what to do about Jack, I guess. At the least
there’s a disciplinary we ought to put him through but I’m guessing that you’ll
feel that isn’t enough when you’ve been through this journal. He’s been looking
a bit nervous since girlfriend got carted off, so if you want to do something
we ought to get on with it.
Let me know
what you want doing.
Terry.
THE END
© 2007 Freddie Clegg
All characters fictitious.
Email: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Find PDF’s of my stories at my web group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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