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From: tmquin@NS_attglobal.net (Thomas M Quin)
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Vanishing Point Part 15: An interlude (M/ff, NC B and D)
Date: Thu, 12 Jul 2001 04:10:03 -0400
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To keep you guys happy, a long "Vanishing Point" flashback.
Enjoy
Tom
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STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is
found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author.
The authors explicitly prohibits.
1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form.
2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express
permission.
3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the
written permission of the author.
This work is copyright TM Quin and timidt 2000
All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.
Timid and Quin 2000
timidt@hotmail.com tmquin@attglobal.net
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Vanishing Point Part 15 (Ben)
===================================
I felt my mind drift..........
..... I blinked and yawned, streatching one way and then the
other in a vain attempt to get comfortable. I failed of course,
no mater how much hard driving you do your body never fully
gets used to it.
I was so caught up with my own aches and pains that I almost
missed her. In fact if the guy in the red Camero hadn't pulled
over I might have driven right past her. However, as soon as
the sports car pulled to a stop I saw her, cutoff's, checked
shirt, long red pony tail and a pair of the longest legs you
ever saw. Even from this distance I could see she was nervous.
She kept looking behind as if she thought that there was
someone following her. As she approached the Camero's passenger
door she slowed, looking at it wearily. Right away I started to
kill our already stately speed, bringing it down to a point
that was only barely legal. As we crawled closer I watched her
shake her head and say something to the Camaro driver. I
figured from the car that he was probably a single man out
cruising on his own. He was exactly the kind of guy that would
try his luck with her. She seemed to come to the same
conclusion. I watched while she shook her head again. They
exchanged a few more words and then he squealed off in a burst
of male bravado.
She shouted something, flipped him the finger and then turned
our way. I could see her looking our battered motor-home over
as we crawled ever closer. We must have passed the safety test,
Red smiled and stuck out her thumb.
"Get ready," I called back through the curtain and into the
living area. Wasn't necessary of course, Louise was more than
smart enough to figure out what was happening. If we slowed
down between towns it usually meant a hitcher.
I drove a short distance past Red and then pulled over.
I watched in the towing mirror as the girl raced up. She was
young, perhaps too young for our needs. Her clothes where
battered, her face covered in road dust. Until she got closer
it would be hard to tell if she was desirable or not. She was
travelling ultra light, just one of those little backpacks that
school kids had which kinda confirmed my suspicions about her
age. Interestingly she didn't wear the bag on her back like
you'd expect but carried it clumsily by her side. I headed back
into the living area and opened the side door.
Behind me Louise fussed about and made herself "presentable."
When we travel she usually goes for the preppy suburban
housewife look. Today she had gone for her "Donna Reid"
special, mid calf length pleated plaid skirt, lilac colored
blouse and brown leather mules with the suggestion of a heel.
She looked like a primary school teacher or the wife in a
fifties sitcom. She strengthened that look a moment later when
she quickly slipped into a frilly apron.
She made a last minute adjustment to her hair and nodded. She
had her game face on, now we were ready to play. I opened the
door wider and smiled down at the puzzled Red. She seemed a
little more flushed than I had initially expected, for a moment
I was confused, was she excited? embarrassed? aroused? One
thing was clear she hadn't been expecting to see a younger man
driving a geriatric wreck liked this. She took a step back, I
could sense the refusal starting to form on her lips when....
"Don't just stand there Jack! Help the poor girl with her bag."
Louise smiled past my shoulder all womanly virtue and motherly
concern. I could see Red relax a little. It was obvious she
feared men, but a henpecked husband, the servant of a woman,
was almost acceptable.
I fell in with the role Louise had given me. "Yes dear," I
muttered, giving Red a downtrodden and heavily put upon look. I
reached out, she flinched a little but handed me the bag. I
turned and took it inside, leaving the doorway open so that
Louise could welcome our guest.
Up close some of my fears about Red evaporated. She was young
all right but a long way from being the jail bait I'd initially
imagined. I figured she was in her late teens, perhaps early
twenties, her body was thin and willowy, her face strong but
with the right amount of feminine softness. Dress her in an
evening gown and she would pass as a princess, dress her in
jeans and a sweatshirt, perhaps add some wire rimmed glasses
for effect, and she would pass as an intellectual. All in all
she would make some lucky owner very happy.
Her clothes still worried me though, old, stained and very
dirty they didn't seem the sort of thing a regular hitcher
would wear. Just a few pointers on the American underclass that
I picked up in five years as an EMT. If you are a pan handler
you dress as dirty and down as you can in order to elicit the
maximum sympathy and money from passers by. A bum, on the other
hand, tends to be as clean as he can be given his
circumstances. Hitchers also tend to dress as cleanly and as
smartly as they can, I mean, they want you to do them a favor
and share *your* space with them for several hours. If they
want that lift then they try to be as presentable as they can.
Red smelt, the pungent odor of sweaty body and stale tobacco
clung to her. The first time I caught a faint whiff I was
unprepared and almost heaved. Whatever the girl's story was it
was obvious she'd been living rough for a while. I looked
forward to finding out why.
For now I headed forward to the driver's seat. We'd been pulled
over for a good few minutes and while that isn't a problem with
a car, a huge tank like the battlewagon tends to attract
official attention rather quickly. Once I pulled out into
traffic I reached up and took down a headset with attached boom
mike. It was military surplus, one if the noise canceling types
designed for helicopters and once I'd single-handedly
positioned it on my head I fumbled for the plug.
In redesigning the battle wagon to reflect my own needs I'd
gone out of my way to maintain a hacked together look as if it
had been thrown together by a well intentioned but clueless
amateur. For example, there is a small panel on the driver's
side of the cab that holds a CB radio, a radio/CD player and a
scanner. Each component has been deliberately chosen not to
match any of the others, they are fitted in an odd, somewhat
haphazard way, and bellow them is a row of odd switches, phone
jacks and indicator lights. It looks like a hi-fi nut's
bedroom, but as usual there is method to my madness. Finding
the plug for the headset I shoved it into one of the sockets
and turned a dial.
The sound of the living quarters came through loud and clear,
I'd hidden a noise canceling mike above the table so that I
could follow events while I was driving.
One of the first things guys in our line of work want to know
is who we're dealing with, who they are, where they're going
and who knows where they are. This is bread and butter stuff
and Lou was a real pro, I mean, she used to teach psychologists
how to ask questions and lets face it, asking dumb questions is
how psychologists make their money.
Louise understands that the way to pump people for information
isn't to ask questions, people are too weary these days, too
cautious, the trick is to encourage them to talk about
anything, no matter how trivial and then slowly turn the
conversation in the direction you want.
When I tuned in I found myself in the middle of Louise's
somewhat one sided conversation with Red. Lou did her usual
spiel, how her name was Lois and I was Jack, how the camper had
been her grandfathers and now formed part of her small
inheritance. She explained that we had decided to take the old
girl on one last road trip, experience a little slice of
Americana before selling the Camper and going into the baby
business.
Lou is good, real good, I've seen teen runaways tell Louise
their complete life story within seconds of their first
meeting...
Red said nothing, not one word.
In fact she was so quiet that for a moment I wondered if she
was asleep or if Louise had got the drop on her already and was
talking to a tightly gagged girl. Then just as it seemed that
she wouldn't say a word, she spoke.
"You could drop me at the bus station in McAlister if that's
ok?" She sounded tired, physically and mentally, given enough
time she would probably loose consciousness on her own. I
mentally consulted the map. McAlister was ten or so miles away,
perhaps a twenty minute drive at our current speed. There was
also no rest area or quiet place to pull over along the way.
McAlister was not a good choice for us.
Fortunately Lou has developed the ability to read my mind over
the years. "You look tired," she said, "we were on our way to
visit friends in Ogden. The bus station there is bigger and has
more routes. Why don't you rest a while and we'll drop you
there?"
I didn't hear the girl's answer but she must have nodded or
something because a moment later Louise said "Ok then it's
settled."
There was a crackle in the headset, which told me that Lou was
using the small intercom we had fitted.
"Jack hon? Our guest would like a lift to the bus station in
Ogden." I smiled, Lou had become such a pro in the last few
years, she was always making sure that the tiny details were
covered. Of course she would have to tell me where we were
going, how could I be expected to hear their conversation from
the cab? Still smiling I keyed the mike.
"Sure thing hon," I said slipping back into the role of hen
pecked hubby, "I figure it'll take maybe an hour and ten from
here." I paused realizing I had an opportunity here. "What's
the gal's name?" I asked, trying to sound good natured and
friendly.
There was a pause and then the girl murmured, "Becky Sue." A
second later Lou relayed that through the intercom. I had to
smile, what is it with southern girls and these double barreled
Christian names? It's almost like the south only has 10 girl's
names and has to mix and match them in pairs to make sure
there's enough to go around.
"Hon," I said keying the mike, "why don't you make us all some
coffee, I'm getting a little parched up here."
"Will do hon," Lou said then started to ask the girl questions
about what she wanted. I let my mind drift a little. There was
a little used rest stop on the way to Ogden. It was usually
pretty quiet; not quiet enough for us to play with our new
guest but I doubted we would have any problem subduing her
there. Two or three places came to mind where we could park up
and play with our captive at our leisure. My cock hardened at
the though of having Red bound and helpless.
A second later I heard Lou ask if she could get the girl
something to drink. I grinned, the game was afoot.
Usually I dislike drugs, they are messy and unreliable with far
too many risks of bad reactions and allergies. Where possible I
prefer to physically subdue my subjects, there is still a risk
but it's much less. However sometimes we have few choices,
especially if we have to deal with a group or someone who seems
especially weary. For those cases we keep a few drugs in the
camper to make collections easier.
In the main these are mild sedatives packed in small tablets
that were easy to dissolve in drinks. They aren't powerful
enough to render the target unconscious but it puts them in
confused state that makes collection easy. We had even spiked a
few old fashioned bottles of diet Coke in readiness for our
"guests." For a moment I smiled, remembering the three college
cheerleaders we had picked up last summer. Their car had broken
down in the middle of nowhere and they had been out in a ninety
degree heat for almost an hour. Of course they had been more
than happy to take our offer of a lift. They were young,
athletic and they obviously thought that gave them a degree of
safety. I gave a wide grin remembering them toasting their
saviors and slamming away their bottles of Coke.
We had made enough on that one collection to pay for a new
house.
However, Red seemed to be more weary than those girls.
"Just water?" I heard Lou ask, I didn't hear the girl answer
but a second later Lou said, "We have bottles of Coke?" Again a
mumbled reply and I heard Lou give a small sigh. "Ok hon," she
said, "if that's all you want."
I frowned, that made life a little more complex. No drug is
completely colorless or odorless, the ones we had could be
hidden by the taste of most drinks but she would certainly
notice if we tried to put it in water.
I quickly reviewed our options. One alternative was to drop Red
at the bus station in Ogden and try our luck elsewhere. I
quickly dismissed that though, there was something wrong with
Red, something I couldn't put my finger on. Somehow I had a bad
feeling she wouldn't survive long on her own. The road to Ogden
was a three lane highway, probably the best road in the
district. There were a number of side roads we knew of, places
where we would have all the time in the world to subdue our
little redheaded bitch, but the girl would know the moment we
turned off the highway and I didn't like the idea of leaving
Lou to deal with Red alone.
The best bet was a small rest stop a few miles south of Ogden.
It was chancy, the place was never really quiet, but it offered
the one chance to grab Red before she really understood the
danger. I started to plan.
As we drove I listened to the girls one sided conversation over
the headset. Lou had finally made a crack in the redhead's wall
of silence. I discovered that her name was Becky Sue and she
was looking for a bus to New York. She sounded like the typical
runaway. East of the Rockies girls head for New York, western
girls head to LA or San Francisco. I noticed that she made no
attempt to provide a surname or an explanation of why she was
thumbing a lift in the middle of nowhere. However, I figured
she was local, there was the right little twang in her accent
and her local knowledge of the bus routes seemed too good for
an outsider. As we neared the rest stop I made my final
preparations.
The motor in the battlewagon was much bigger and more modern
than the stock unit. In fact the whole of the camper's
mechanics and electronics had been extensively upgraded. As we
neared the rest stop I pushed a concealed button. Immediately
the tone of the engine started to change, the motor has an
electronic fuel injection and ignition system, it was easy to
pop in a circuit that made the engine run rough on demand. I
slowed a little as if I was nursing it. The sound of the
laboring engine finally got Red to talk, a string of high
pitched worried questions started that Louise did her best to
field.
Lou shouted forward though the curtain to ask what was going
on. I told her that I didn't know and that I was attempting to
make the nearby rest stop. A few minutes later the off ramp
appeared and I quickly scanned the parking lot. There were four
or five cars at the rest stop, all parked over near the toilet
block. I "limped" to a stop as far from the other vehicles as I
could. The moment the motor had spluttered to a stop I tore off
the headset and slid through the curtain. Red looked a little
worse than she had before, her face a little limper, her eyes a
little more weary. As I stepping into the room she stiffened
and gave me a nervous look.
"Sit down," I said keeping my voice light and friendly, "I know
what it is, one of the HT leads has a bad contact I'll go clean
it and then we'll be off. Take fifteen minutes tops."
She gave me that cute nervous look again. "'s ok," she
murmured, "this is a rest stop right? Ah mean Ah could get me a
ride from here?"
"You could," I agreed, "but chances are you wouldn't find
another ride before we were ready to leave."
"'S ok," she said starting towards her pack, "you would still
take me to Ogden right? If Ah couldn't find another ride?"
I nodded. "Of course," I said reassuringly.
She nodded, "then sound yah horn when yah ready to go and I'll
come running."
I looked behind her to where Lou was dosing a dish towel with
the contents of a small bottle. We call the stuff "chloroform"
though the actual drug is much more potent and safer than real
chloroform. Human medicine has little use for a liquid, inhaled
anesthetic, drugs these days are either gasses or made to be
ingested or injected. That's bad news for those of us in the
slavery business. The old anesthetics like chloroform and ether
are just too dangerous to use. I found the answer through a
veterinary friend of mine, an anesthetic liquid designed to
allow surgery on large animals where transport was impractical.
Lou gave me a small nod and I started into the end game. I
reached forward as if to grab her bag.
"Here," I said, voice friendly, "let me help you with that."
Red behaved like I expected, stiffening and straightening up
and at that moment Louise pounced.
The liquid has none of the cloying odor of real chloroform and
the first that Red knew of the danger was when Lou clamped the
towel over her face. I admit she responded quickly though, her
bony arm flashed back missing Lou by inches. A second later a
wild overhead punch found its mark
"Arghhh," Lou said as the punch connected with her nose. I
jumped forward, gathering Red's hands together and holding
fast. She glared at me above the towel.
"Ummmrrggghh!" she wailed, trying to shake her head loose and
kick. I looked at Lou. I little trickle of blood was running
out of her left nostril and her nose as a whole looked puffy
and inflamed. She held on with a look of grim determination on
her face. She had grabbed Red by her auburn ponytail, the pain
enough to force the girl to hold still. I felt Red's struggles
start to weaken, her glaring look of defiance replaced by a
pained look of confused despair as the drug did it's work.
Satisfied, I looked around the room for some place we could
rest the girl while we tied her.
I glanced through the window in passing...and my heart nearly
stopped dead.
A police prowl car had left the highway and was slow crawling
up along side.
Now this isn't as bad as it sounds, like most RV's these days
the battlewagon has tinted glass and although I could see out
the cops couldn't see in. Still I knew immediately that we were
in trouble, had the cops just been taking a break they would
have headed for the toilet block.
Red was fighting the drug, eyes flickering and rolling but not
yet under.
I looked at Louise. Normally I have her deal with cops and
officials because they are usually less suspicious of a woman.
Of course Lou's Donna Reid impression goes a long way to calm
them down too. I mean, she looks like a suburban soccer mom and
about as harmless as you can get. I looked at the trickle of
blood and knew that wouldn't work this time. One look at Lou's
nose and their guard would go up and that was the last thing I
needed right now.
"The bedroom... *now*" I hissed, grabbing Red's weakly flailing
legs.
Lou had been too busy to notice the cops. She gave me a curious
look but being a good slave she did as she was told and
together we started to drag Red towards the small bedroom.
There came a knock on the outside door. Lou glanced wildly in
that direction and raised a worried eyebrow. Red made one last
attempt to shake off the cloth and scream.
"Ummmmmmm!"
The sound was weak, I hoped it didn't carry outside. Adrenaline
gave me a sudden boost of strength. I lifted Red and boosted
the two women through the bedroom door.
"Lock this door and tie her quickly," I ordered, "and for God
sake keep the bitch quiet!"
Lou nodded. That final scream had forced the last of the
untainted air from Red's lungs, she had been left with no
option but to snort up a lung full of the drug. I was relieved
to see that the teenager was finally, mercifully unconscious.
I adjusted my clothes checked that there was no obvious blood
either on me or on the carpet. Then I started across the room
as another, more insistent tap came at the door.
I tripped over something and looked down to find Red's little
day sack. Frowning I quickly slid it through the curtain and
into the cab. Satisfied that things looked relatively normal I
started towards the door.
There were two cops outside, both dressed in the uniform of
state troopers. The older one had the kind of lined face that
elderly cowboy heroes have in the movies, like he was carrying
his own personal map of the Grand Canyon with him. In contrast
the younger cop barely looked like he was shaving. He was
fretting about with the kind of youthful enthusiasm that seemed
guaranteed to irritate his partner.
"S...sorry officer," I said, "I pulled over because I was
feeling a little tired, I must have dropped off."
The older cop just grunted, the younger one took off his hat
and mopped his brow. "May we ask where you have come from sir
and where you are going?" he asked.
"Colorado," I said, "heading down to Florida on vacation."
The baby cop nodded. "Colorado's nice," he said, "I like the
mountains."
I laughed. "Well they're ok for a while," I said, "then you
start to crave the ocean."
He nodded and took a photo from his breast pocket. "Have you
seen this girl sir?"
My heart fluttered as I took the photo from him. I just knew
that it would show our little hitcher, I just knew it.....
....and I was completely wrong. The picture was a mug shot of a
girl in her mid twenties, her brown hair was pulled back into a
ponytail her sharp angular features scowling above a small
board that held her name and a file number. Beside the full
face was a second shot, this time a profile. The kid looked
nothing like Red in fact I had never seen her before in my
life.
I shrugged and handed the picture back to him. "Nope," I said,
secretly relieved, "I've not seen her. What did she do anyway?"
Old cop finally spoke. "She and her male partner fleece
tourists," he grunted, "she pretends to hitch waving her pretty
behind until somebody stops, then they pull this little carjack
number. We had a couple upstate nearly die, little bastards
left them bound and gagged in the trunk of their car for two
days."
"We have a report that they were seen forcing their way into an
RV up near Forrester," Baby cop said, taking up the story,
"we're checking all the vehicles in the area."
"They're not in this RV," I said.
The old cop snorted, the young one licked his lips. "With
respect sir, you could be being coerced. We want your
permission to search the vehicle."
A cold hand clutched my heart. If I refused they would almost
certainly insist and once they were inside they were almost
certain to find Red. I had to laugh. All these years of care
and paranoia only to be caught because of a crime I hadn't even
committed. It was best to accept the inevitable.
I shrugged. "Ok guys I can see your point... be my guests."
They came in gun's drawn I lingered by the door for a second
then headed over to the bedroom and knocked.
"Hon are you decent?" I called, "the cops would like to check
the RV, they're looking for a fugitive?"
I heard a muffled sound from beyond the door that I hoped was
Lou. Babycop was clucking at my heels by that point so I turned
the handle and stepped though. The little traveling bedroom was
tiny, just big enough to hold the double bed, though that was
up at the moment. I looked around but was pleasantly surprised
to see nothing out of place. There was a small pile of Lou's
clothes by the door to our little shower cubical. Smart girl my
Louise she had made a point of turning them all inside out to
hide any blood.
I stood by the door and knocked. "Lou hon?" There was the sound
of running water a muffled sound and then the door opened a
crack. Louise beamed out looking as horny and as gorgeous as
the first moment I'd seen her. She must have sensed that I was
worried because she shook her head out and kissed me lightly on
the cheek.
I nodded at Babycop who had just finished searching the various
wardrobes in the room. "They are looking for some hijackers," I
said. The kid seemed to have calmed a little now he realized
that there wasn't a gun to my head.
"Just a precaution ma'am," he said, "these are bad people."
Lou gave me a worried look then peeped around the door and
smiled. "Of course I understand," she said, "but I wasn't
really expecting company," she blushed, "to be honest I'm kinda
naked."
I felt the trooper's tension rise a little. The shower cubicle
was small but it wasn't hard to imagine a second person hiding
inside with a gun to Lou's head. Of course my bet was that a
bound and gagged Red was the most probable extra occupant.
"Please Ma'am," Babycop insisted.
Lou looked at me with her big brown eyes. Behind the cop I
nodded. Damn.
"Well ok," she said, pulling the door closed for a moment. A
second later she emerged wrapped in a bath towel. The young
trooper slipped inside, but only for an instant, the cubical
only took a moment to search.
"Thanks Ma'am," he said, giving Lou an embarrassed grin and
tapping the brim of his hat, "just had to be sure."
I nodded and took him back though to his partner who was
waiting by the side door. It had seemed like an eternity, but
in fact only a couple of minutes had passed. Still, that had
been long enough for another RV to pull in to the rest stop.
The cop's tension rose a little as they gave rapid good byes
and headed over to the other camper. The dynamic duo off to
fight crime.
If they could find it.
And right now the question was why they hadn't found it.
Perplexed, I headed through to the bedroom.
Lou was sliding her luscious, freshly scrubbed and powered body
into a silk teddy. She had pulled her hair back into a loose
bun and a pair of lace topped thigh highs waited to caress her
long legs. She looked up with her best bedroom eyes her message
clear -- she had been a *very* good little slave and now she
wanted to be rewarded.
But first to business.
"Where's the girl?" I asked.
Lou smiled, I could see that cheeky look on her face. There
were days when she would have suggested I tried to find Red
myself and I could see that idea playing across Lou's face but
today she had saved her master's ass, she could be sure of his
attentions without the need to act the brat. Smiling, she
walked over to the bed and pulled it down.
The bed was of a type common in old campers. It folded up
against one of the walls, slipping into a recess that had been
left for it. In order to hold the bedding in place a couple of
long webbing straps were tied across the width of the mattress.
I admit that we used those straps more than most people,
fastened in place they made great anchor points for other
restraints and every few days we made a point to let our
captives sleep for a few hours stretched out on a real bed.
Lou pulled the bed down into position and stood to one side so
that I could admire her handiwork. There in the middle of the
mattress, held down by a web of straps was a faintly moaning
figure wrapped in a sheet. Reaching forward I helped Lou
unfasten the straps and pulled the sheet aside.
Lou had been forced to be quick and brutal. Police handcuffs
adorned Red's wrists and ankles, her body pulled back into a
loose hogtie by a single strand of cord connecting the cuffs.
Her face was almost completely covered by the towel that was
tied over her mouth and nose. Above the towel Red's eyes rolled
and flickered as she tried desperately to fight off the effects
of the drug. I suspected the towel had dried out otherwise she
wouldn't have been even semi conscious.
Not that it mattered much of course, the drug had kept her
quiet during the crucial few minutes of the search. I smiled
with victory and tugged the towel clear. Lou hadn't had a lot
of time to work on Red but the gag the teenager wore was good
enough for now. Her mouth had been filled with a high density
sponge ball held in place by three wide strips of silver tape,
one passing between her lips, the other two forming an X over
her mouth. Red moaned and twitched but didn't really attempt to
move. I turned to find that Lou was slipping a tight mid-thigh
leather pencil skirt over her pretty ass. Lou likes to play
with our acquisitions almost as much as I do. It looked as if
"Mistress Louise" would be making an appearance tonight.
"Keep an eye on her," I said, giving the helpless girl a cold
look, "resoak the cloth and make sure to keep her good and
woozy, you can bet that half the cops in the county will be
stopping RV's"
Louise smiled. "Can I play with her Master?" she asked, a
wicked grin spreading across her face.
Red's eyes widened when Lou said the word Master. It must be
hard to get anger, fear and amazement into a single look but
somehow Red managed it.
I suppressed a chuckle. "No my slave, wait until we are
somewhere quiet where we can unwrap our gift undisturbed."
Louise pouted a little. "Yes Master," she said sullenly.
I nodded at Red who had recovered enough to shake her head and
ummpphhh weakly.
"That bitch is far too feisty slave," I said giving Red my
cruelest smile, "you best drug the little cunt again."
Red's eyes widened and the shaking off the head increased.
"Ummmmmpppp."
I just smiled and headed towards the cab.
The turning I needed was not that far away. It was a farm road
that headed down to a small, half collapsed barn. I knew the
guy who owned the spread and he was happy for us to use the
place as a layover.
We bumped to a halt in front of the barn and I did the few
bits
of housekeeping needed before we settled down for the night.
Red's pack still rested in the passenger footwell where I'd
hurled it. Curious I started to search it. The bag was small,
and I didn't really expect to find much inside. Still, the
contents were sparse in the extreme, consisting of 3 soiled
t-shirts, a dirty denim skirt and a plaid style miniskirt.
There were a couple of pairs of underwear a few odd socks, all
in all it looked like clothes you might find in a dumpster.
I searched the side pocket which contained a packet of cheap
cigarettes, a plastic disposable lighter, and about eighty
bucks in small bills. Then in the bottom I found a thin piece
of paper that I realized was a photograph.
The pictures are the most heart breaking part of this business.
Just when you think you have no conscience left, just when you
begin to think of yourself as a hardened pro, you will find a
photograph and realize just what it is you're doing.
Usually we prey on teenaged runaways and hitchers, the kinds of
kids nobody important is going to miss. The surprising thing
for me is not that the girl runs away, most have a good reason,
but that they take so much with them. Favorite stuffed toys
they have had since childhood, hope rings and pledge lockets
from old boyfriends and of course photographs, lots and lots of
photographs. It seems strange that people trying so hard to run
away from their old life take so much of it with them. Try as
you might it's hard to see a struggling teenager as product
after you have seen pictures of her seventh birthday party, or
that long ago trip to Disneyworld.
These days I don't look, putting stuffed toys and family
pictures to one side for burning. In this case though the girl
had so little that I was tempted to look anyway. The picture
was an old faded monochrome shot showing a pretty dark haired
woman cuddling a smiling baby. I didn't know who the woman was,
the picture was so dirty and moth eaten and it could have been
five or fifty years old, but it must have been very important
to the girl, it was the only part of her old life she had taken
with her.
"Master?"
I looked over my shoulder, my eyes falling on a black patent
leather pump with a three inch heel. My eyes continued up,
drinking in every delicious curve of Louise's body as she
waited patiently in the doorway. She had finished dressing,
silk blouse and the leather pencil skirt now covering her sexy
underwear. It was a little like a children's party game, layers
of beautiful wrapping around an equally beautiful present.
"Yes my slave?" I said, the feeling of sexual power reminding
me just why I am in this business.
Louise bit her lip. "It's the new desirable Master," she said
nervously, "there is something you should see."
...........
Louise had started to strip the girl using a pair of EMT
sheers. Most times we just cut away the recruit's clothes
unless we have some reason to want to preserve their outfit.
EMT sheers look like large serrated scissors that have been in
a terrible accident. The blades are angled away from the handle
with one blade being made long and flat. You slide that blade
between the body and the clothes, the other rests above the
fabric and the sharp serrated edges can make short work of
anything that gets in their way.
In Red's case there was nothing in her outfit worth keeping so
Louise had just sliced through the upper layers. The checked
shirt had been reduced to rags, all that was still waiting was
the section of the arms hidden by her body. Lou had then cut
off the girl's stained white cotton bra.......
Both breasts were covered in deep welts, long thin bruises made
with a cane or metal rod. The bruises ran deep, overlapping in
a hap-hazard, criss-cross fashion that sometimes managed to
break the skin. The nipples had been inexpertly pierced, two or
three attempts having been made in an attempt to get the holes
straight. Neither the final pair of incisions or the earlier
attempts had been properly cared for or kept sterile, the flesh
of the nipples was horribly inflamed, the sight of a thin
yellow puss leaking from the piercing confirming that an
infection had set in. Large crude rings had been fitted through
one set of holes and then soldered shut. Without a saw or a
pair of cutters there was no way to remove them. Her right
breast had a pair of bite marks imbedded in it and around the
nipple was a crescent of old cigarette burns.
I looked up at Red's face. Lou had re-secured the doped towel
and the teenager was only semiconscious. She was murmuring
something into her gag, shaking her head, pleading. I reached
down and felt her forehead, noting the slight fever. That had
explained why she had been so flushed earlier and why she
hadn't felt like talking. I frowned and looked her over.
"Help me with her," I said, working on the straps that held her
to the bed. Lou nodded and started forward. I had no idea who
had done all of this to the girl and for the moment it didn't
matter. All that was important was to clean her up and assess
her condition.
We pulled Red to her feet, she wobbled and tried weakly to
fight us off but the drugged rag robbed her of the strength she
needed. I had Lou hold on for just a moment while I recovered
my medical kit from it's hiding place. A few CC's of Valium
calmed Red down a little and made it easier to work. I
continued to hold her in place.
"Put a plastic sheet over the bed Lou," I ordered as I held
Red's languid body in my arms. Lou nodded, quickly covering the
mattress with a light plastic sheet. Once that was secure I
held Red up while Lou removed the rest of her clothing. I
couldn't see what Lou saw of course but her sharp intakes of
breath and occasional shakings of the head told me that Red's
bottom half was no better.
That done I lowered Red back down and on to the plastic. "Get
scrubbed up," I said, " bring a bowel of water through and
bring some of that antiseptic."
Lou nodded and headed quickly towards the bathroom. Life as an
EMT had shown me lots of horrible things and yet the state of
this girl still shocked me. For Lou, whose area of expertise
was mental rather than physical, it must have been a real eye
opener.
We cleaned her up, starting with her legs and feet and working
up slowly, cleaning, disinfecting and dressing wounds as we
went. The abuse started at her bruised feet and continued from
there. Her right ankle was badly chaffed, something that had
been hidden by her socks. The mark looked like one from a badly
fitted handcuff but seemed wider, the fact that there was no
similar mark on the other ankle told me all I needed. The girl
had been manacled or chained to something for a very long time.
The legs were not so bad, a few fading welts at the back of the
legs had been hidden by dirt which was why she had risked the
cutoffs. It was her crotch area that really worried me, here a
series of deep welts had broken the skin, there was the signs
of more cigarette burns and most worrying of all, a yellow
discharge that seemed to leak from her pussy. We worked
methodically, lancing septic wounds, cleaning, dressing. I
shaved her pussy to let me get a better look at the infection.
Her sex had been horribly punished. I was surprised she wasn't
screaming in agony.
We continued fixing her belly and her breasts before rolling
her over to clean and dress the deep festering cuts in her
back. At last I understood why she had not been wearing the bag
on her shoulders. That done we pulled the woozy girl to her
feet and frog matched her to the shower. I held her while Lou
unfastened the pony tail and started to work on Red's hair. The
hair at the back of her head was matted and hard to work. I
doubted many people would have known what to make of it but it
was something we recognized straight away. Duct tape adhesive
clung to Red's hair showing that not only had someone wrapped
tape around her mouth to gag her, he had also blindfolded her
the same way. She was lucky to be alive.
In all it took almost five hours to clean her up. I did the
last two alone, allowing Lou to grab whatever sleep she could.
I was grateful for the drugs we had given Red, it had made the
procedure easier and the use of topical anesthetics had made
the work as painless as possible, however I still found myself
wanting to ask the girl some questions. Who had done this to
her and why? If she was an escaped slave then her Master must
have been a complete asshole, and yet in an odd way I knew that
the mysterious guy was an amateur. Sex slaves are unbelievably
expensive, nobody that paid that much would take the risks with
her health that this guy had. I started to think up a scenario,
the only one that made any sense, I envisaged some guy grabbing
a hitcher as his own personal plaything and keeping her locked
up in a cabin somewhere. I imagined him taking his own sadistic
pleasure from her body, leaving her cruelly bound and gagged
when he headed off to work. Then one day he had been careless
and left the girl with the possibility of escape that she had
immediately exploited.
But if that was true why hadn't the girl run straight to the
police? It made no sense.
I woke Lou. My veterinary friend lived in Lampton about forty
miles away and he had the kind of supplies we would need if we
wanted to keep Red comfortable for the long trip home. My
biggest concern was the discharge and the fever, I had a
feeling we would need some potent antibiotics to deal with all
the infections the girl had. Lou shuffled though a little
wearily and looked down at Red. We had managed to get the tape
residue out of her hair without cutting it and now that her
hair and face were clean she looked radiant. I'd popped the
girl into a little cotton night dress, strapped her wrists to a
wide bondage belt fastened to her waist and replaced the gag
with a waffle ball type. It was as comfortable as I could make
her and still keep her secure. Though still drugged the girl
showed some sign of awareness. She glared at me for a moment
and tugged at the bonds.
"Ummmmm!"
"You're sick," I told her, "right now you need my help far more
than you need your freedom."
"Urrrrrgghhhhh!" she shook her head and rattled the bonds
again.
"Say what you want," I said, "it still doesn't change things.
You have an infection, probably about to go systemic, if I
don't stop it you wont live a week. Right now you need me so I
suggest you play along. This isn't a surrender, just a truce."
Her eyes widened a little, then she looked away and thought for
a moment. Looking up she nodded. Right now she was too tired
and too weak to do anything, even if the bonds would allow it.
For the moment she would accept my help but the war was far
from over.
I smiled over at Lou. "Need you to drive for me hon," I said.
Lou just looked at Red for a moment and didn't say anything.
"Lou?"
Louise looked up and smiled. "Can we keep her Master, if she
lives and we get her cleaned up?"
I blinked and looked at my wife-slave quizzically. Louise had
been taken as a slave, kidnapped from the road as she waited by
her disabled car. It had only been later as I'd trained her
that I'd fallen in love with her bright eyes and kinky smile.
In our life together she had never asked for anything even
though she knew I could deny her nothing. I raised an eyebrow.
"She's the one Master, if she lives and she's free of disease
and I just know she will be, she is the one we talked
about....."
That spring we'd had our second child and Lou had started to
talk about settling down. It was impossible of course, it would
be a couple more years before we had enough money to leave the
slaving business behind, but Lou missed her babies and hated
being on the road without them. In the end we'd compromised,
agreed that when we next found a suitable girl I would train
her to be Lou's replacement, to come on the road with me and
help with captures. It was a big sacrifice for Lou, that girl
would share my bed while we were apart and provide me with sex
and companionship. More than any of the girls we took or
trained, that girl would be special, perhaps even a rival for
my affections. When Louise had agreed there had been one
caveat, Lou would choose the girl, I had agreed, even jokingly
suggested the new girl's slave name.
I looked into Lou's sparkling eyes and then down at the bound
and subdued Red. She was certainly a feisty little thing, if
she survived and if she was clean she would make a dynamite
partner. Even then I sensed as Lou did that Red would turn out
to have no permanent injuries or illnesses. She was just so
perfect it seemed like fate. I realized that Red was looking at
us with fearful and puzzled eyes. I smiled reassuringly.
I laughed. "Hello Thelma," I said, "welcome to the family."
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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