Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl (6 page)

The cruel overlord, mad with lust, shoved his cock deep into Justine’s mouth. His eyes were glued to Cheryl’s torment. As blow after blow struck her in a slow but steady cadence, matched by Cheryl’s responsive cries and moans, Stoner’s cock throbbed deep inside Justine’s throat. Struggling for air, Justine nonetheless maintained the supplications of her lips and tongue. Stoner groaned with pleasure as he began to spill his seed inside the frantic girl. Her hands twisted at their confinements, her extended legs pushed and pumped in the air as her lack of oxygen turned critical. Jet after jet poured from the hot, throbbing cock to slither down Justine’s distended esophagus.

Just as one last solid blow fell on Cheryl’s tormented breasts, Stoner gave out a last gasp and extracted his softening meat. “Enough,” he croaked out at the small native who had been wielding the crop with gleeful effectiveness. He was leaning over the body of Justine, his chest on her belly. The girl gulped fresh air into her lungs, an effort Stoner’s considerable weight made difficult. Slowly, Stoner came alive. He pushed himself up off of the supine girl and ordered the servant from the room. Cheryl was slumped in her chains, moaning softly, wetness all down her cheeks. Her breasts were bright red from their abuse.

“Tomorrow, they’ll be black and blue,” Stoner told her as he crossed the room to appreciate his servant’s handiwork. “I hope they’re good and sore so I can tit fuck you.”

Stoner was caressing his manhood, urging it back to life. In the other hand he had a glass of scotch. “Tonight I’m going to fuck your ass.” He released the chain holding the exhausted woman. She fell to the floor.

“Get up!” he ordered. He kicked her viciously. “Get up cunt!”

Cheryl struggled first to her knees and then to her feet. Stoner pushed her onto the bed. “Suck that cunt, bitch,” he told her. Cheryl placed herself between the uplifted thighs of the prone Justine. She crouched on her knees and placed her lips on the gaping sex of her fellow slave. Justine sighed as she felt the girl’s tongue delve into her moist slit. Cheryl inhaled the pungent aroma. She had often given oral pleasure to her co-wife and received it in return. The three wives, locked in their dormitory for most of the day, had little else to do besides grant each other physical solace. And, when commanded, she did so for her master’s gratification. She knew Justine’s preferences well and now used that knowledge to drive her to crisis.

The sight of Cheryl’s upraised ass was tantalizing for Stoner. His cock had come back to hardness and he knelt behind the woman to take his pleasure. Justine’s moans excited him. He pressed the head of tool into the brown star between Cheryl’s cheeks and pushed the small ring of flesh open. Cheryl knew to relax herself to ease the cruel man’s passage. She gratefully felt the cock slip inside her without effort.

The tight ring pressed firmly on Stoner’s cock as it stroked back and forth over it. The heat of Cheryl’s bowels enflamed him. Cheryl allowed the sensations to excite her. Her sore breasts swayed as her body absorbed the force of Stoner’s thrusts. Justine was moaning loudly now as the knowledgeable mouth found her center of pleasure. Her cunt was juicy and hot to Cheryl’s tongue. She let the passion of the blonde woman carry her away. Her own cunt burned with desire. She could sense its lips distending, its center lubricating.

Justine came first, crying out. Her staccato cries triggered Stoner’s release and he pumped his semen deep into Cheryl’s bowels. Cheryl squeezed the rigid pole in her ass tightly to maximize her assailant’s pleasure. It was far better to have him lust after the delights she could give him than to vent his passions on her violently. She knew that her master’s pleasure was all and that if he found her to be deficient, her torment would begin anew.

As it was, Stoner’s passions were now sated. He leaned against the body of his slave, spent. After catching his breath, he rose slowly. He pulled his now flaccid tool from Cheryl’s bowels and rose to his feet.

“Thanks for the fuck, whore,” he said. “Now get off my bed and get into your cage.”

Cheryl moved quickly to gain the relative security of the cage at the foot of Stoner’s bed. Stoner’s wives were relegated to this cage after a night of serving his passions. No whore slept with him.

The hulking man released Justine’s feet from their bindings. He untied her hands and removed the belt that had held them to her sides. “You too,” he spat at her. Justine rushed to join Cheryl in the small cage. Cheryl was already in and she had to press herself firmly against the other woman to gain entrance. The cage was small for one and a very tight fit for two. Her warm flesh rubbed up against Cheryl’s as they maneuvered to find positions that permitted a degree of comfort. Stoner slammed the cage shut and locked it. Without further comment, he stumbled back to his bed, put out the light and fell in. He was asleep in moments.

Justine waited until she heard Stoner’s snoring before speaking to her friend softly, in a whisper. “Oh, Cheryl,” she said. “I’m so sorry,”

“I know,” Cheryl replied. The limbs of the women were tangled. Justine placed her lips on Cheryl’s back and kissed her. Her hand wandered over Cheryl’s legs and found the still moist fulcrum between them. She stroked it softly.

“I love you Cheryl,” she said. “Please let me caress you. I want to give you pleasure.”

Cheryl melted as she felt the delicate fingers probe her sex. Her passions had remained unsatisfied and she welcomed the prospect of release. She turned her head in the darkness, but could not put her lips on Justine’s mouth.

“Justine,” she said woefully, “I, I…”

“Shhhh,” the blonde woman replied, pushing aside the engorged lips of Cheryl’s cunt. “Shhhhh.”

Silently, lovingly, Justine stroked Cheryl’s moist pussy. She rubbed the small bud at its top softly, making small circles on it with her finger. She pushed her fingers inside the slick crevasse, plunging them in and out.

Cheryl’s breathing became heavy as the deft caresses of the other woman fueled her lust. She felt Justine’s warm lips on her flesh, sucking at her skin, caressing it with her tongue. “Oh…, oh…,” she cried in a small, impassioned voice as her blood began to rise. Suddenly, she was over the top and her whole body shuddered. Justine’s hand frantically stroked the gushing sex. She pressed her fingers in, finding the sensitive zone of pleasure.

Cheryl moaned as wave after wave of soothing sensation pulsed through her. When her orgasm subsided, Justine withdrew her hand and kissed her lover’s back a final time.

Cheryl drifted on a sea of contentment as the tension of the night’s events left her. Her hand was just able to reach Justine’s. She gripped it firmly and said, “Thank you.”

PART NINE

THE RAID

On the morning after Cheryl’s cruel beating, Stoner arose groggy and stupefied. He stumbled to the bathroom to take his morning piss. The girls were sleeping fitfully in their cage, but did not respond to the sounds of their master’s awakening. Stoner returned to the bedroom and considered the two young women, legs and arms akimbo, crammed into the tiny steel cage. He laughed to himself, enjoying the spectacle of his power over them. He picked up a shoe and banged harshly on the cage.

The clanging of the metal caused both Cheryl and Justine to jump awake. Fear was the byword of their lives and any startling sound could presage torment. They looked up to see their master looming over them.

“Time for my morning blowjob,” he said in a sickly sweet voice. “Who shall it be?”

The girls remained silent. Cheryl’s eyes had still not adjusted to the light. Stoner stood between her and a long, arched window. His form was outlined by the sun’s strong rays. Justine was behind her, jammed against her back.

“No volunteers, eh?” Stoner taunted. “I’ll just have to make the decision. The loser goes to the Discipline Room for the day. How about that? Any volunteers now?”

Both girls grimaced with indecision and fear. No one wanted to make a visit to the Discipline Room, Stoner’s den of torture that lay in the bowels of the mansion. But neither girl wanted to be the vehicle of condemning the other. Cheryl could feel the perspiration of fear on her face and body. Her throat was dry, her hands shook. She reached her hand back to find Justine’s hand. Their hands met and joined in sister-like solidarity.

“Okay,” Stoner said. “Justine, you get to suck my cock. You, cunt,” he said leering at Cheryl, “you go downstairs.” Cheryl cringed and whined. Justine gripped her hand harder in pity for her lover’s dismal fate.

Stoner shoved his flaccid cock between the bars adjacent to Justine’s mouth. The helmet just passed inside. Justine grabbed it with her mouth without hesitation. As a result of her expert ministrations, the joint of flesh began to harden and extend. Her right hand being free, she circled the shaft and urged it towards climax. Stoner had no desire for a long, sensual erotic ride. He pumped repeatedly into Justine’s mouth. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he said, grabbing the top of the cage with both hands. His cock exploded, pouring its discharge into the servile mouth. Justine sucked down every drop as if it were ambrosia.

Satisfied, Stoner dressed and left the women to their fates. Just before he stepped from the bedroom, he turned to Justine and said, “By the way, next time I ask for a volunteer to suck my cock, you better be on the front of the line. You can join your friend in the Discipline Room for the rest of the day.”

After giving appropriate instructions to Jeremiah, Stoner left the mansion and sought out the commander of his garrison, Kurim. Kurim was a tall, bulky native who had received his training from the U.S. Army, specifically the Ranger School. It was part of a program left over from the Cold War for training the armed forces of former colonial countries so that they could resist communism. Apparently it didn’t matter that these forces were used more often for cementing a local dictator’s control over his populace or hunting down authentic rebel movements seeking political and social justice.

Kurim had fought his way up the military ladder by the combined results of ruthless conduct in the field and adeptness at political intrigue. Stoner had hired him away from the government and had him train and equip his small army. Kurim and his men were paid very well and organized dissent in Stoner’s kingdom was kept at an absolute minimum…until lately, that is. Over the last six months, two of Stoner’s convoys had been ambushed and three patrols had disappeared in the jungle. Stoner rued the loss of the material, but was more distressed at the loss of well-trained men and their modern weapons. Today, he would strike back.

Two weeks ago, his men had captured a rebel following a botched attack. Twenty three rebels lay on the ground when the shooting stopped and one man was taken prisoner. After a few days with Kurim’s experts, the man had identified himself and his native village. Today’s expedition was to entail a little visit there.

Stoner’s two helicopters could transport thirty men each. This was more than enough to capture and secure a basically unarmed village. They were to take off at 10 A.M. so that they would reach the village just before the noonday work break. All of the women would be at home preparing lunches for their men. The men would be straggling back to the village from their fields.

The helicopters were loaded and ready when Stoner met with Kurim. They shook hands and stepped aboard the lead chopper. It took off with a graceful, bounding leap, followed by its mate.

Ninety minutes later, the choppers were approaching the village. They flew high to minimize the ground level noise. When the sprawl of grass huts appeared ahead, the two choppers diverged. They swooped down and landed at opposite sides of the village.

The eager men poured out of the choppers instantly upon landing. Brown eddies of dust swirled around them as they ran off to encircle the village. Stoner and Kurim waited until their chopper had settled and the backwash dropped down to a mere annoyance. They stepped out and took stock of the operation.

The village of Yarukamba held 1500 souls. It is situated in the foothills of the Djougou Mountains. Its fertile land feeds its villagers well and several cottage industries enable it to procure some elementary conveniences from the outside world. Its only road is a small dirt track that winds down 30 miles to the plains below. It has a small electric generator that powers a radio transmitter for contact with the outside world.

Since the coming to power of the current regime and the imposition of suzerainty over the region by Stoner, careful records are required of all villagers. Even here, a hundred miles from the nearest town, all were required to register annually with the government and obtain picture identifications. Once a year, a government helicopter would arrive with government clerks to take a census of the village and assess taxes. Pictures and vital data of all villagers were filed in the government offices, information that found its way to Stoner’s computers. These facts would make Stoner’s mission that much easier.

A small cadre of bodyguards preceded Stoner and Kurim into the village. By now, the villagers were streaming from their huts. There was the occasional staccato sound of automatic weapon fire. Stoner stepped over the body of a young Yarukamba male, his lifeblood staining the brown earth. When Stoner and his bodyguard reached the radio hut, it had already been secured. Three black men, garbed only in short loin cloths, stood beside it with their hands behind their heads. The radio lay smashed and broken on the ground.

The villagers were being herded into the village square. Most of those present were women and children. About 900 people crowded the large, flat village center consisting of hard packed clay. A stool was brought and Kurim stood on it holding a bullhorn. At his signal, the men surrounding the crowd fired their weapons in the air. The boisterous, panicking crowd silenced.

Kurim spoke to them. “Citizens of Yarukamba!” he called out in the local dialect. “This village is guilty of fomenting rebellion against the government!”

The crowd protested as one. More gunfire silenced them.

“Here is the proof!” Kurim shouted.