Cruise (24 page)
The brief investigation by hotel security and the local cops produced nothing more. It was thus assumed that Wink, like so many eager tourists before her, had either taken off with another tourist or fallen off a bulkhead and drowned. Bonnie and her parents testified that Wink seemed fascinated by the slightly older young man who they met at dinner that night. The young man had a good alibi and the case quickly went cold.
Wink learned many lessons much too quickly. Much of what she learned on the slave ship she might have picked up earlier in her life. If she had been inclined to read instead of being a slave to TV, or even if she had watched porn, she might have learned about what was being done to her now. At the worst, if she had simply gotten involved with men or women who had broader sexual interests than a simple closed mouth peck on the cheek at the end of the date, she might have been better prepared. Physically, fit, Wink had more than once slugged her date after he made a move to slip a hand up inside her sweater or in between her legs. Those moves, as common as they were in the sexual learning curve of high school or college kids remained, until now in her mind as something foreign and wrong.
On board the freighter, she was stripped and hung by her wrists in padded cuffs from an overhead pulley until her feet left the floor. Her ankles were tied together and another rope was doubled around her legs just above her knees. They removed the original rag gag and told her that she could scream if she wanted to because no one would care and some on the ship might even enjoy it. However, for entertainment’s sake, a metal pony bit was strapped into her mouth and held there tightly by a series of straps that constituted a well-fitted bridle around her head.
“Now,” said Oberly, as his twin sat nearby watching with glazed eyes, feasting on the perfect little body with the large, round boobs, narrow waist and shapely ass strung up in front of them. “You, Wink, are going to do exactly as you are told. If you don’t obey instantly, I will whip you with this…” and he swung the long buggy whip and brought a telling slash down across her tensed little rump. Wink screamed past the bit and kept screaming until Oberly reminded her that each scream would bring yet another strike of the whip. On the fourth slash, this one across the back of her thighs, she stopped screaming and began to cry silently.
“Much better,” said the twin as he eased the pulley lower and dropped Wink to the floor. “Now get on all fours. This is your standard pony position. You will always hold this position until you are told to do otherwise. If not,” he said with a smirk, “the whip will make coleslaw out of your ass. Got it?”
Wink slowly assumed the position, guided with light touches of whip here and there until she was in the perfect pose with her back horizontal and her lovely ass sticking out just enough. Capstan touched her there lightly with the whip and signaled his twin to take over. Isa advanced from the rear. She was just out of Wink’s line of sight. Wink was crying so much that she probably didn’t even see her until she reached over and touched her ass with her hand, slapping her lightly at first and then harder when she instinctively left the position and tried to escape. She got as far as the other side of the room, then turned and faced her captors, weeping and screaming at them to let her go.
“Oh dear,” said Isa. “I am afraid, dear brother, that we have erred in our training ways. The manacles and shackles are needed, I guess.”
“Punish her first,” said her twin, picking the girl up and putting her across his chubby knees. Wink flailed her arms about, tried to kick her feet, but Oberly was adept at handling much bigger women than Wink and so, while he and his sister laughed loudly, he began to spank the little blond, his calloused hands landing telling blows on her firm, rounded ass. In a matter of seconds, Wink’s buttocks were glowing a deep crimson, but Oberly continued, using first his hands and then a narrow paddle on first one cheek and then the other while Wink thrashed and struggled ineffectively on his knees, eminently aware of the stiff cock that jammed itself into her flat stomach. The spanking was a routine that the Oberlys used now and then on favored slaves. In this case, it was so easy to beat the girl’s charmingly tight ass into a pair of fiery hot, red globes, the beating continued longer than usual until Oberly became tired and Wink was reduced to little more than a trembling, sobbing mass of well-beaten girl flesh. When the spanking ceased, Wink slowly slid off Oberly’s soaked knees to the floor.
“Now?” asked Isa.
“Yes, Sister. I think now is the time for the chains she so richly deserves.”
Wink suddenly found herself confined in a web of chains with thick and heavy cuffs on ankles and wrists, a steel collar around her slim neck and another heavy metal band around her narrow waist. These encumbrances were easily attached to her while Isa sat on her stomach and fastened all chains into a rigid restraining pattern, then flipped her over and forced her once again into the kneeling pony pose on all fours.
“Let’s try this again,” said Oberly, and he sprayed a bit of slippery fluid between Wink’s buttocks and then began pushing the base of what looked like a whip handle into her spank-reddened ass. Wink tried to bolt, but the buggy whip fell out and fell again until she stood still and Oberly eased the fat handle with the wasp shape into her ass. When nearly all of the handle was in place, he pumped the attached rubber bulb a few times and listened to the girl scream louder as he inflated the interior bladder, filling her small, tight little ass with the inflated rubber bulb. The whip handle stayed there, locked and sealed inside until some later moment when it was decided that she deserved and could take a longer, fatter one. As Wink twisted and struggled with the chains and the invasion of her ass, Capstan attached a long, black horse tail to the handle, screwing it into place and assuring that it would not become detached, no matter what action the wearer might take.
“So, Pony Wink,” said Oberly after she calmed down. “Let’s see you walk around the room. Just a nice even pony walk. Do that well and obey me and I’ll let you go back to your stall for the night. How’s that for a real deal?”
Wink choked and whimpered through the bit and bridle, but moved slowly forward, encouraged by the whip across her ass.
Chapter Twenty Five
Transfer
It was logical strategy for the slavers to have a secret shore base to process captives, but it was also good strategy to get abductees off the island as quickly as possible. This was done with the ubiquitous SCUBA classes for tourists that constantly used the beach. Day and night dives were the standard part of training on the island and it seemed that no one noticed or cared that on many occasions, more young women went into the water with SCUBA gear on than came back. No one bothered to wonder why the wetsuit garbed and hooded young women in the classes were always hand in hand with one and sometimes two instructors. The Flexi cuffs binding the students to the instructors were also of no concern to anyone on the beach in the early morning hours or late at night. It was of no interest to anyone that the young women divers always seemed to have their SCUBA mouthpiece in their mouth, even before they went into the ocean and the dive masks, oddly enough, were blacked out. Since many courses included night dives, it all worked extremely well.
Once they submerged off the beach, the captive women were led on a shallow course out to the nearly an invisible domed habitat, mostly buried in the shifting bottom sands. They entered through a secure airlock, were relieved of their SCUBA gear and quickly bound hand and foot, gagged, collared and placed in small steel holding cages with their collars chained to the adjacent wall. Any objections on the part of the captives were dealt with in the same direct fashion as they were handled on shore. Gags helped. The electric prods worked well. If all else failed, the girls got a short dose of a mild sedative. That usually did it.
The casino at the edge of town served admirably as an attractive draw for candidates and the slaver/pirate operation carefully fine-tuned the facility so that it appealed especially to young and easily impressionable women. Much of what the property offered was on the wish list of female, post high school graduates looking for the kind of excitement and thrills they identified with Las Vegas or Atlantic City, even though they had never been there. The more up scale young tourists thought they saw elements of the casinos of Europe or even Macau, identifying with the private rooms, lavish buffets, classy service and elegant guest rooms in the supposedly exclusive hotel on the upper floors. What the property really offered was a spectacularly original and complex system that was able to adroitly siphon off a percentage of the visiting young women who, through a range of seemingly normal events, disappeared into the slave bank and were not seen again in the civilized world. Vehicle accidents, missteps while wandering in the city or countryside, invitations that led to one-way excursions into the dangerous interior, helicopter crashes, water ski accidents and an amazing abundance of apparently innocent situations, which resulted in hospitalizations and long, invisible stays in rehab facilities were all a part of the program. No one knew, or cared, about the actual number of young women, most of them white, Anglo and American, who arrived at or near the island and simply vanished.
True, in the case of accidents, a body was sometimes found, but there were few efforts to carry out identity investigations. If the body eventually surfaced and it was still in reasonable condition, it was a strict island policy to cremate it at once, usually before any relatives showed up. Visual ID was done by some traveling acquaintance who was shown a body on a slab or in a coffin for a quick, horrified glance.
The system worked extraordinarily well. Police and other officials were either totally ignorant of the activity or were on the pirates’ payroll, so no one interfered, even in the suspicious cases. In one calendar year, the program netted more than a hundred slaves. Not bad for a small island that had declared its independence not long after the end of the Africa slave trade. What actually happened was that the trade was now far more complex, yielded much greater fiscal rewards and was involved in West to East transactions, a reverse of the old slave trade and not as well known.
Young women who drifted into the casino, with or without escorts, were initially captured by digital video surveillance. The pictures were enhanced, analyzed and matched with a date from the hotel register or from the ID’s required for entrance. Within an hour, any potential candidates were in the database and the subjects were being treated in such an obsequious manner that few could resist the opportunity to play the role of the starlet or celebrity hovering over a gaming table and, remarkably, winning big time…for a while. When the carefully manipulated games turned around and the subject began to lose, subtle suggestions and assistance appeared in the form of well-paid young men who came to their aid. They bought drinks and dinner and eventually, perhaps not that night, but soon, arranged for the girl’s osmosis-like penetration from the public environment to one where they became a naked, bound, blindfolded and gagged young body on an iron bed or stuffed into a steel cage, awaiting transfer out to sea.
It was an error in the system that allowed the seven women from Altuna to fall into the trap in such rapid succession. And it was that error that eventually led to the coming confrontation between the yacht’s crew and the pirates.
***
Wink at first struggled with the chains that effectively hobbled her movements, but the encouragement of the whip and the moving base of the tail up her ass assured a fast learning curve for the little blond. Held at the end of a lunge line, she quickly got the walking gait down to her tutors’ satisfaction and was rewarded with, of all things, a carrot. After her arms were reaffixed behind her back and her chained feet pulled up and attached to the manacles on her wrists, the carrot was shoved into her virgin pussy, and tied there, amid her objections and futile struggles with a harshly thin cord. They removed the bridle, replaced it with a head harness of a more stringent nature equipped with a mouth-filling plastic gag and a front panel that covered her face from below her nose to her chin. A hinged metal band was locked around her legs above the knee, pinning her knees together. One of Oberlys’ many helpers picked her up and placed her in a tiny steel box that had a small door and an even smaller view panel which was closed once she was inside.
Weeping and twisting in the tight enclosure, Wink really could not begin to fathom what was happening to her. The entire concept of kidnapping, pony training, anal impalement, carrot rape and forcible restraint were all cards that had never been dealt to her before. Her sudden immersion in this world of bondage and punishment was much too much for this mid western girl, whose prior kinky experience was having her father hold her wrists tightly behind her back while he administered a well deserved spanking for breaking a valuable china plate in the kitchen.
Wink learned as fast as could be expected. By day three she was prancing around the indoor track, a feathered plume streaming from her bridle, a more restrictive spoon bit and gag in her tender mouth and the same black tail trailing out behind her as she made the whip-enforced turns around the track. The manacles were gone and she wore leather and steel hoof boots laced and locked on all four limbs, as well as matching pads on her knees and elbows to protect the now more valuable property she had become.
When not on the track, she spent hours in the grooming salon, having her hair dyed a more appealing silver blond and then clipped into a long mane sort of Mohawk style. She unwillingly acquired new piercings in her ears, nipples and nasal septum. The nipple and nose rings that followed the piercing became painful distractions for her and at night, again chained in her tiny dark box, she usually cried herself to sleep, trying not to tug on the thin chains that joined her nipples to her nose ring. By day seven, the slavers were satisfied with Wink’s progress and got her scheduled for the undersea trip out to the habitat and then onward to the Carlos Andiamo off shore. Wink’s past life, up until then, was becoming a wishful relic and what lay ahead was not within the scope of her imagination.