Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl (22 page)

The three women scurried to obey.

“Hands behind your heads!” Stoner ordered. The three naked, trembling women knelt before him, their hands joined behind them, their swaying breasts thrust forwards. He pressed the riding crop under Denise’s chin and lifted her head up so that she was looking into his eyes. “You are my property now, cunt, you and your slut of a sister. Tonight I’m going to fuck you both. I’m going to make you eat your sister’s pussy. You’re going to suck my cock. In fact, you’re going to do everything I say, because every time you disappoint me, I’m going to punish her.” He pointed the riding crop at Cheryl.

“And you,” he said, flicking Cheryl’s nipples with the tip of the whip, “every time you disappoint me, I’m going to punish your sister here. Got that?”

Cheryl, filled with sorrow and terror, murmured her understanding. ‘Crack!’ Stoner struck her across her breasts. She nearly doubled over in pain. “I asked you a question, cunt! Do you get it?”

“Y,yes, Master,” she said, loudly.

“See, now you’ve gone and disappointed me. I’m going to give your cunt of a sister five strokes of the crop for that!” And to Denise, he ordered, “Stand up!”

Denise, her lips trembling, her stomach in a knot, rose quickly to her feet. She kept her hands behind her head. She was going to receive five blows with the riding crop and for nothing! Her eyes watered in anticipation of the pain.

Stoner angled himself for an optimal blow with the whip. He swung back and struck Denise across her pale, white, tender breasts. “Ahhhhhhhh!” she cried. The blow caused her to stumble backwards. She fought the urge to move her hands from her breasts, to protect her delicate orbs. But she knew that this would ‘disappoint’ her new master.

Cheryl dared not look at her sister, but kept her tear filled eyes straight ahead. Mary, too, looked forward; she was keeping perfectly still. When Stoner was in one of his rages, there was no telling what would happen. She could be next to suffer his displeasure.

Stoner struck Denise’s breasts four more resounding blows. Each time, Denise gave a great cry and stumbled back. When the fifth bow had landed, and Denise had regained her balance, sobbing and moaning in pain, Stoner ordered her back to her knees.

“Now you,” he said, sweat dripping from his brow, pointing the whip at Cheryl. “You’re going to suck my cock, show my new slut how it’s done.” Stoner opened his fly and took out his thick, erect member. He pointed to Denise. “Get over here by my side. I want you to be able to see everything.” And to Mary he said, “Get on the other side, you can watch too.”

Cheryl waited for a signal from Stoner to move towards him. The look in his eyes told her that it was time. She walked on her knees over to where Stoner stood, her hands behind her head. Stoner had his hands on the heads of the other two women for support. “Go ahead,” he said to Cheryl. “Get to work. And don’t use your hands, just that slutty mouth.”

Conscious of her sister’s eyes on her, eager to avoid causing her any more pain, Cheryl seized the head of Stoner’s cock with her lips. She sucked gently on the thick, meaty head, licking the tip with her tongue. When she heard Stoner moan with pleasure, she engulfed the shaft, pressing the head against the rear of her mouth. Slowly, she bobbed her head back and forth, dragging her tensed lips along the length of Stoner’s hard pole.

Denise watched her sister’s mouth bulge with the presence of Stoner’s meat. Her tortured tits still burned. She hated the pressure of this evil man’s hand on her head. She wanted to cry out to her sister, to comfort her. At the same time, she was mesmerized by the sight of her older sister mouthing Stoner’s long, thick cock. “So this is what it looks like,” she thought. She recalled being on her own knees, servicing the Turk’s manhood. Although she was still in a state of frantic terror, there was something about the tableaux before her that stirred her loins. “I am a slut,” she thought.

Stoner let the waves of pleasure wash through him. He was in his element, commanding his naked white sluts, relishing the compelled sexual services of one of them. Whipping the new girl’s tits had fueled his passion and it did not take long for Cheryl’s efforts to bear fruit.

As he felt his juices rising, he began to rock his hips, meeting Cheryl’s thrusts. He was struck by an inspiration. “Don’t swallow my come, slut, keep it in your mouth,” he said to Cheryl.

Cheryl managed to mumble, “Yes, master,” when Stoner’s cock began to spew its hot load into her mouth. It filled her oral cavity and oozed out from around Stoner’s cock onto her chin. She dared not swallow a drop. When Stoner’s spasms of pleasure ceased, he pulled his cock free of the encircling lips.

“Show it to your sister,” he commanded. With tears of humiliation in her eyes, Cheryl turned to her younger sibling and opened her mouth. A sticky spew of viscous white fluid lay on her tongue, dripping from her teeth. She could see the look of shock and disgust in Denise’s eyes turn quickly to compassion. She waited for Stoner’s command.

“Now giver her some,” Stoner ordered. “And save some for Mary, here, too.”

Hesitatingly, her hands still behind her head, Cheryl leaned over to her sister. She pressed her lips against Denise’s and pushed a small portion of Stoner’s jism onto her tongue. Denise accepted it docilely. Cheryl then turned to Mary and gave her a sampling of it as well.

“Now, all of you, show me what you’ve got.” Denise, Cheryl and Mary opened their mouths to evidence the presence of Stoner’s spunk. When he was satisfied that they all had a taste he ordered them to swallow.

* * *

On a lonely, tree shrouded section of the Benswala Road, a platoon of Uzoma’s soldiers was taking lunch. Three native women were sitting by the roadside, hands tied behind their backs, their necks joined by a coarse rope. They were naked. Earlier that morning, the soldiers had come across the women and two men coming down the road on their way to market. The Lieutenant had asked the men for identification. No one had ever patrolled this road before and the men had left all of their papers back at their village. The soldiers had ransacked the cart and its cargo of mangoes and found nothing.

One of the soldiers was lifting the corner of the dress of one of the women, a shapely, large bosomed woman, with a broad, amiable face. She was backing away from him, when she bumped into a soldier behind her. She let out a small cry. One of the men went to protect her. There was some shoving. The lieutenant ordered his men to seize the protesting man. Once they had him in their grip, he drew out his sidearm and shot the man between the eyes. His body collapsed to the ground like a building collapsing onto itself. The other man died in a hail of bullets as he tried to flee into the bush.

The lieutenant reported over his cell phone to his captain the killing of two ‘bandits’ and the seizure of suspicious women for questioning. The questioning had consisted of sexual congress with the men of the platoon, officers first. Now they were waiting for a truck to pick them up. One of the men paused from eating the nicely ripe mango he had cut open. There was a noise from the bush. Suddenly, the road was filled with angry black men, dressed in native garb, yelling and screaming. They were carrying large bolo knives and steel pointed spears. It was over in about a minute and a half. Two of the soldiers had managed to get off shots and two native men lay on the road, their lives flowing from them. The soldiers had all been hacked to pieces.

A tall, lean man, dressed in jungle fatigues, stepped onto the roadway. He had a long billed military cap and a .45 on his hip. He wore shiny black boots. He surveyed the massacred soldiers quickly. He turned to the natives and ordered them to gather up all of the rifles and ammunition. The women were freed and sent on their way, crying and wailing, driving their little donkey cart, now laden, not with mangoes, but with the bodies of the two men.

As his men disappeared back into the bush, the tall, uniformed man looked northwards on the roadway. It was two days march to Stoner’s mansion. These guns would be very useful.

PART FOURTEEN

WHAT A MAN REAPS

The wedding had been called off, temporarily, at least.

As was his custom, Stoner had spent the night before the wedding abusing his new wife-to-be. He had the added delight of increasing his prospective bride’s humiliation by having her sister join in. He had soundly whipped Denise while Cheryl watched. Afterwards, he made Denise service her sister orally while he drove his thick, hard rod into her bowels. He then outfitted Cheryl with a fat dildo and harness and made her fuck Denise doggy style while she sucked his cock. Finally, he had Denise sit on his face while Cheryl mounted his cock. The women were facing each other and were instructed to kiss and fondle each other’s breasts until he came.

They spent the night, exhausted and ashamed, locked into the little cage at the foot of Stoner’s bed. They were ashamed because, in spite of themselves, they had experienced physical pleasure from each other. They had hungrily sought each other’s lips while riding Stoner’s cock and tongue and had both come twice. Now they were scrunched together in the tiny steel prison. But for once, they were not gagged. Jeremiah, suspicious of Denise, had not wanted the women to speak to each other until he had had a chance to force the truth from the new slut in the Discipline Room. So, after Stoner left the women’s dormitory, he had gone in and affixed thick gags in their mouths. This was the sisters’ first chance to speak.

Cheryl waited until she heard the unmistakable sound of Stoner’s snoring. The women were, generally speaking, facing each other in the cage, although their arms and legs were spread out every which way. The women whispered quietly, at first in commiseration, but after the tears had ebbed, they told their stories. Somehow, Cheryl had guessed that the Turk had been behind Denise’s kidnapping and Denise confirmed it by her description of him. She was surprised at the strange aspects to their ‘relationship’ while at Turk’s mansion. After she considered it for a while, she jumped to what was to her the obvious conclusion.

“He’s coming,” she told her sister.

“Who’s coming?” Denise whispered back.

“The Turk. He’s coming to get me and he used you to find me.”

Denise pondered this. She was about to respond when the door to the bedroom opened. It was Jeremiah. A small rectangle of light shone into the room, spotlighting the cage. When he saw that the women were not wearing their gags, he looked around the room to retrieve them. Once they were found, he opened the cage and reaffixed them to the women’s mouths. He then tied their hands behind their backs and forced them back into the cage. They spent the night in miserable silence.

It was Stoner’s usual practice to get a blowjob from whatever ‘wife’ was available in the morning. But this morning was different. At about 6 A.M. the telephone in his room rang. He rose groggily and grabbed the receiver. The ringing had awoken the women and they could hear his end of the conversation.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?… Where?...How many?…There too?...Where’s Kurim? …Okay, I’ll be dressed in two minutes. Have my helicopter ready in fifteen. Get all the spare men from the barracks…Yes, yes, leave the security detail…Now get to it.”

Stoner slammed down the phone and yelled, “Fuck!” He raced to his bureau and pulled out clean underwear and a jungle fatigue uniform. He then threw it on and dashed from the room.

What Stoner had learned was that two outposts of his had been overrun during the night by ‘bandits’. The closer of the two was fifteen miles from his compound. Kurim had already organized a search and destroy team and was scouring the bush with one of the helicopters. Attacks had been made unsuccessfully at two other outposts and his men were engaged in tracking down the retreating attackers.

Jeremiah was waiting for Stoner at the front door with his sidearm. “Get all the servants under lock and key,” he told him. “And get the sluts all together in my bedroom.” Stoner paused and reflected. “I want all the Swiss passbooks and the negotiable securities ready in a valise. Put it in the bedroom with the sluts and guard it with your life. I’ll be back soon, but just in case, we want to be able to get out of here pretty damn quick.”

* * *

Turk and Lenny were speeding up the Benswala Road in a tired, old World War II style Jeep. They had bought it from their contact in the capital along with 2 Glocks, about fifty rounds of ammunition each and papers describing them as buyers for the ‘Acme Minerals Corporation’. Turk had balked at first at the thinness of their cover, be he was assured that no one not born in the United States would get the reference. They had visas and identification in the names of Mr. James Wiley and Mr. Paul Coyote. Somebody’s idea of a joke.

As they rumbled along the mostly paved road, Turk was surprised at the lack of any soldiers or checkpoints. They had a ready supply of cash for bribes, but had not found it necessary to use it yet. In fact, the road was dead quiet, with not a single other vehicle or cart on it.

What they were not aware of was that word spreads fast in the bush and everyone knew that the rebels’ big push was on. Uzoma had pulled the remainder of his troops from the road to the capital. Villagers had fled into the forest. As far as confused circumstances were concerned, the Turk’s expedition could not have happened at a better time.

The plan was to gain access to Stoner’s compound by flashing the fake papers. They were supposedly seeking to buy cobalt. But if anyone asked them more than five questions about it, they were sunk. Turk had determined to risk all on one throw of the dice. He didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary to make the attempt to rescue Cheryl and Denise.

The jeep passed through the town of Benswala, which marked the formal end of the Benswala Road. It looked like a ghost town. It was a good thing that they only needed the jeep for a one way trip, because there was absolutely no place to buy gas.

They emerged from the deserted town and continued the thirty miles towards Stoner’s compound. They got about ten miles away from it when they met their first roadblock. It was manned by twenty or so of Stoner’s men and they were all nervous and trigger happy. They presented their credentials to a jittery noncom, who used his cell phone to call in to the compound. The conversation was done completely in the local dialect and Turk fingered the semi-automatic in his pocket. He knew that if they had to shoot it out they were fucked, but he didn’t want to go like a schmuck, shot in the back with his hands on his head. The sergeant looked at them intently as he spoke to his superior. It took much longer than it should have. Finally, the noncom issued orders to two of the men, who climbed in the back of the Jeep. He then waived the Jeep on.