A Calling to Thrall (2 page)

“Stay here,” I tell him. “I'll be back with help.
Just stay here.”

Of course he doesn't respond, but I can't think
about what that might mean. I have to go. I have to go now.

Half-walking and half-crawling, I claw my way
through Moon Lake's swampy grove. Frogs jump to my left and right.
I see a snake slither across a half-sunken log. I'm scared beyond
all belief, both for myself and David, but I have to get to help.
Right now, that's all that matters.

I've almost reached dry land when I see a flash of
color to my left. It's a man. He's carrying a fishing pole in one
hand and a tackle box in the other. He stares at me as I rise out
of the water, but I can't deal with the shame of my nakedness right
now.

“Please,” I run up to him. “You've got to help me.
There was an accident, and—”

“Easy,” he says. “Just calm down. Does anyone know
you're here?”

I shake my head. “No, that's what I'm trying to tell
you. There was an accident. My boyfriend's back there, and he's
hurt, and nobody knows where we are, and I have to get help.
Please, you've got to help me!”

I grab his shirt. Muddy water drips from my breasts.
His eyes linger on my chest, but I'm too worried to care.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “I'll help you. Just come
back to my truck. My phone's in the back toolbox.”

I follow him up the narrow trail ahead of us. A
single-cab truck sits parked on the side of the road. A long,
locked toolbox fills half the back bed, and I fidget beside it
while my savior searches for his keys.

Finally, he opens the lid. Its inside is completely
empty.

“Hey, hold on,” I say. “I thought you said you had a
phone back here.”

He shrugs. “Guess I lied.”

Before I can even process what's happening, he
throws me inside the steel box. My breasts slam against the liner.
I crack my chin on the floor. I try to push myself onto my hands
and knees, but he grabs both my wrists in one hand and ties them up
tight with yards and yards of fishing line.

“Please!” I cry out. “Please, don't do this. My
boyfriend—”

“Won't mind if I take a turn with you for a
while.”

He ties my ankles together before reaching between
my legs and stroking my clit. I sob. His fingers delve deeper. I
breathe faster, unable to stop the wet heat from spreading around
his touch, then all of a sudden he goes still.

“You're a virgin, aren't you?”

I hiccup out a sob. “What the fuck do you
think?”

When I look up at him, he's smiling brighter than
ever before. “Hot damn. I was hoping to make a good catch today,
but this sure takes the cake. Sorry, sweetie, but it looks like
I'll be leaving that little cunt of yours alone for now. A pussy
this tight is worth a helluva lot on the open market.”

My breath catches. Open market?

“Oh, but don't worry?” he says. “I know you're
mighty hot right now, but there are still a few games we can play
before I pass you on to your buyer. Just got to make sure those
little cherries stay nice and tight. Like folks say, a new ride
loses half its value after you drive it off the lot.”

I still can't understand what he's talking about. He
can't sell me. I'm a person. Slavery's illegal. I try to scream,
but he stuffs a dirty rag in my mouth before I can even draw a
breath, then the lid slams shut. I lash out at my metal prison, but
I can hardly move. Oh, God, this can't be happening. David's
counting on me. I have to get back to him. I have to save him.

The truck's engine starts, and then I'm bouncing
against the bottom of his empty tool chest. The mud hardens around
my body. My hair is a plastered mess against my head. Hours pass,
maybe even days. I fall asleep for God knows how long at one point.
My stomach feels like it's caving in. My mouth is so dry I can
hardly swallow. My hands have long since lost any sensation, and
I'm so weak I can barely move when the chest's lid finally
opens.

“See, Brian, didn't I tell you she was something
else?”

I crane my neck over my shoulder. Above me, a young
man in a T-shirt and jeans stands beside the fisherman.

“She is one hell of a catch.” Brian reaches inside
and strokes my ass. “I'd sure like to have a go at that tail.”

“Not if you want your cut, you won't.” The fisherman
reaches inside and lifts me out of my make-shift cell. “Go make
sure everything's set up. I want those buyers to get a good long
look at this one before the bidding starts.”

I blink up at my surroundings as the fisherman
carries me out of the truck. It's night. We're deep in the woods.
Crickets chirp. The cool air hardens my nipples.

The fisherman gives one of my breasts a quick
squeeze before pulling the rag out of my mouth.

“Scream and you'll wish you hadn't,” he says. “Not
that anybody here cares what you have to say, but I ain't in the
mood for getting a headache right now.”

He pulls a bottle of water out of the cooler beside
him and holds it to my mouth.

“Go ahead,” he says. “You've got to be thirsty.”

My chest aches from all the sobbing. I look up at
him with the most pitiful expression I can muster and whisper once
more, “Please.”

He pats my cheek. “Do you really think those big,
blue eyes of yours are going to make any difference with me? Now
drink. I ain't going to ask you again.”

Reluctantly, I take the first gulp of water he
offers me. It tastes sweet—too sweet—but he won't let me stop
drinking until he forces the whole bottle down my throat.

“See, now that wasn't so hard. Just keep being the
good little girl I know you are, and this will all be over
soon.”

He lays me out on the ground. I'm on my stomach
again. I squirm in the dirt, but a hard slap on my ass makes me go
still.

“I said be good,” he tells me. “Now don't move.”

I close my eyes. What does this pervert plan to do
to me? I expect to feel his cock pressing into my cheeks, but
instead, a cold prick touches the bottom of my left heel.

“Straighten up now. I want to get a good
measurement.”

I look over my shoulder, and he has the end of a
tape measure pressed against the bottom of my foot. Slowly, he
stretches it up my body to the top of my head.

“Five foot seven. Not bad. There's a lot that can be
done with that.”

I sob harder. “Please, my boyfriend...”

“Still all worried about that little boyfriend of
yours, huh? What do you say I just go ahead and set your mind at
ease? It's been a day since I picked you up. If he was going to be
found, there ought to be news about it now, and this phone of mine
looks like it's got data coverage.”

He holds up his cell phone, and sure enough, the
browser's search engine pops up when he clicks on it.

“Now what was his name again?”

“David,” I say quickly. “David Hardy.”

He pats my cheek and types something into the
browser.

“Well, now, looks like we've got something here.
Yes, that is quite interesting.”

“What?” I say. “What is it?”

He turns to me, and I can see almost every one of
his teeth when he smiles. “I'll help you, but you've got to help me
first.”

My breath quickens. “Help you?”

He unzips his pants. “Well, you see, I've had this
unbearable hard on ever since I first laid eyes on you, and I think
it's about time we did something about it.”

“But...but, I'm a virgin, remember. You told your
friend—”

“I told him not to go opening up one of them holes
down there.” His finger dips into my cunt, and I shiver. “I never
said nothing about your mouth.”

My chest is caving in. I struggle to breathe as he
sits me up on my knees. The fishing line still bites into my
wrists. My feet are so numb I can barely feel them. I can't get
away. I can't escape and this man, he's sitting on the back of his
truck now, and his cock is just inches from my lips. He's going to
fuck my mouth. He's going to fuck me and there's nothing I can do
about it.

Tears trail down my dirty face.

“None of that now,” he says. “I've been waiting for
this for a long time, and I want a good job, you here? Otherwise
you can forget ever finding out about what happened to your little
sweetheart.”

I swallow hard. I want to find out about David more
than anything, but this is just...just....

His cock presses against my lips, and I squeeze my
eyes shut.

“Come on now, baby. Open that pretty little
mouth.”

If I try really hard, I can almost imagine it's
David's fingers toying with my lower lip. A light breeze blows
across my skin, and it might as well be his hands caressing my
naked body.

“You can do this, baby
.” David's voice is so
light I can barely hear it. “
Remember that time you went down on
me underneath the bleachers. We were supposed be cleaning the gym,
but you were more in the mood for an afternoon snack. It can be
just like back then. All you have to do is open your mouth. Just
open wide, baby. For me.
”

I part my lips. Warm flesh fills my mouth. He's
huge. Salty juices drip over my tongue. His rod slides further
inside me, all the way to the back of my throat, and I close my
eyes as he grinds into my face.

“Damn girl,” the fisherman says. “Now, that's what I
call a deep throat.”

I almost choke when he starts laughing, but before I
can pull away, his hands dig into my hair as he pumps my head
across his massive cock. My knees rock across the ground. My
breasts sway. I turn my thoughts back to David. I remember every
time I've swallowed down his seed, and not only is the deed
bearable, it's almost...pleasant.

“Just a little more,” he says. “Just a little—”

His whole body spasms, and a second later, liquid
fire shoots down my throat. It's like a brand cauterizing my soul.
I should hate it. I should gag and scream and wretch, but for some
reason I don't. I just lick my lips when he pulls himself out of me
and sit back on my heels as I wait for what's next.

“You're a virgin down bottom, but I'm willing to bet
that mouth has seen some action.”

I drop my gaze to the ground and he laughs.

“Damn, girl, if you're this hot already, ain't no
telling what you'll be like when those drugs kick in.”

“Drugs?” I whisper.

“Ain't nothing to worry yourself about. All I did
was give you something to loosen you up a bit. You want to make a
good impression on your buyers, don't you?”

“I'm not for sale.”

He laughs again. “You've got to be some kind of
stupid if you still believe that, honey.”

I shiver, but I can't think about that now. David is
what matters. I told him I'd help him and I failed. If he's still
lost or dead or whatever, I have to know.

“Please,” I say. “You promised you'd show me.”

“About that.” He strokes his chin while balancing
his smart phone in one hand. “See, I'm going to need you on your
best behavior for the next couple of hours, and I'm thinking you
might be a lot more prone to cooperate if we just hold off on this
little show and tell. You just make a good impression for them
buyers, then you can see what all I found.”

“But...but you promised,” I say. “Please, can't you
just tell me if he's alive? I have to know. I just have to.”

He strokes my cheek. “Then you'd better make sure
you're a good girl if you want to find out.”

“We're ready up here.” Brian's voice comes from the
other side of the truck, and the fisherman throws me over his
shoulder before I can even speak.

“Wait,” I say. “What's happening? People have to
know I'm missing. My parents will send out search parties. They'll
find you. They'll—”

The fisherman drops me to the ground.

“Now what did I tell you about being good?”

He pulls a switchblade out of his pocket, and I
cringe away from him.

“Give me any trouble now, and I ain't going to be so
nice.”

I try to hold back my tears while he cuts through
the fishing line holding my wrists together. We're in a barn.
Spotlights shine on me from either side. Brian grabs my left arm
while the fisherman grabs my right. They hoist me to my feet.
Heavily corded ropes hang from the wooden beams above me. They tie
them around each of my wrists before pulling them both so tight I'm
yanked onto my tiptoes. With one quick flick of his knife, the
fisherman cuts through the bonds on my ankles, and ties each of my
feet to the posts on either side of me.

“Please,” I say when they cinch up the slack on my
legs. “I can't stand up like this. I can't...I can't breathe.”

They don't stop until my legs are spread wide
beneath me. I'm nothing but a naked human X now, completely exposed
and open for all the world to see.

The fisherman slaps my breast to get my
attention.

“Remember the deal,” he says. “Put on a good show,
or you can forget finding out what happened to loverboy.”

I cry harder. Good show? What does that even
mean?

“Start the feed,” the fisherman says.

Brian picks up a camera attached to the laptop
beside him. Its red light taunts me as he glides the lens across my
naked body. The fisherman picks up a hose from the corner of the
barn and turns on the water.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he says to the
camera. “Here for your bidding pleasure is one of the finest
Southern lasses Mississippi has to offer. She might look a little
rough around the edges, but as you're about to see, she cleans up
mighty nice.”

The fisherman aims his hose at me and I scream when
the water hits. It's cold, so cold. He douses me fully before
squirting dishwashing soap all down my body. I'm shivering as his
rough hands slide across my flesh, slowly peeling back layer after
layer of caked-on silt and sand. The longer he works, though, the
less I cry. My head feels fuzzy. The camera's light isn't as sharp
as it was before. My head lolls to the side, and I actually moan
when his hand creeps up to my swollen cunt.