Cruise (18 page)
“Don’t worry about this, Dear,” she said in a doctor’s soothing, but condescending tone. “It will heal quickly with this salve. By the end of the week they’ll be leading you around by the chain and it won’t hurt anywhere near as much as this did. The rings in your lips are, as you might guess, for holding things up inside your cunt. There are many gadgets that they’ll put in there and the rings function as ‘hard points’ for temporary attachments that are pretty much invisible once in place.”
Connie was back in the world of pain and discomfort again, tugging uselessly on her roped wrists and ankles and trying to move her pinioned tongue to a place where it might find a bit of rest and respite from the imprisoning shackle.
“Capstan will come in shortly and probably let you off this thing,” the surgeon said calmly to both girls. “I’m done for now. He may decide to expand your piercings beyond the requisite eleven, but these are usually enough and seem to suit the needs and desires of most owners. By the way,” she added. “If you end up as draft ponies, there will certainly be additional modifications. It might fascinate you to know, while you hang there, that this is the point where some of the team will evaluate your potential in any one of several future slave roles. You both are very, very female, so I doubt this could happen to you, but just yesterday we got a really cute, but terribly flat-chested girl who, after exams, was designated “TG”. For openers, I was told to only emplace rings and things on facial areas because they were going to start her on hormones and pre-op protocols to reduce her already really flat chest to next to nothing, reduce the nipples, liposuction her hips and ass, increase the waist, alter her cheekbones and start building her a pecker. The balls and sack will take longer, but she really went nuts when we told her that she was going to become a he. Never saw anyone so upset about a little thing like a sex change…”
Both post-bound girls remained silent, but let the information about a sex change sink in. Was it possible that these people could and would do such things to women? Was it likely that they might face such a harrowing, life-changing experience? Pain notwithstanding, Connie and Carol mentally mulled this over while they hung miserably on their posts.
Chapter Sixteen
Captive
Ann Norquist had never been tied up in her life, either for fun or for controlled restraint, and she was not enjoying it now. She wasn’t sure which emotion was taking control, pure panic from being forcibly restrained or the shame and embarrassment from having strangers manhandling her and treating her like a sack of potatoes.
Her wrists and ankles were tightly tied to the armrests and base of the steel chair. Her mouth was filled with a bad-tasting and disgusting rubber object that felt like a man’s penis and her eyes were sealed shut with some sort of elastic band that encircled her head. Her long, frosted, silver blond hair was pulled back into a tight single braid and tied with thin nylon line to more rope that went around her chest several times, above and below her breasts. Several additional loops of rope went around her twenty-two inch waist and held her to the chair back. The front of her light yellow T-shirt was torn open, exposing her somewhat flimsy cotton bra and a well-maintained and nicely muscled stomach. Ann worked out and worked at it with a passion. A hundred sit-ups a day was her minimum quota and when she felt that her stomach was getting a fraction too pudgy, she doubled the effort and the quota. Both she and her husband, Bill, watched their weight and worked hard to maintain good body tone and the kind of physique that most people only saw in TV commercials for exercise gear. Right now, that physical fitness wasn’t doing her any good. She was tightly and securely bound to the chair, had no idea where she was, but knew that unless she was rescued, she wasn’t going anywhere.
In her confused mind, Ann Norquist couldn’t yet sort out how she had gotten here, tied in this chair. She remembered going to the Royal Hotel with the twins, changing clothes and then being surprised when her daughters showed up unexpectedly. They told her of the dive tragedy and said they wanted to get to Ann as quickly as possible, so they ordered the helo pilot to bring them ashore. At that point, all five women agreed that they should get back to the yacht, but when they called on Ann’s portable VHF radio, they were advised that both choppers were engaged in the rescue operation and that they should remain at the hotel over night. They agreed, decided to order room service and settled into the comfortable suite to await further news. They ate and drank lightly, but all soon passed out from the drugged meal. That was the last thing she remembered until she awoke in the chair, tightly bound, gagged and facing this nitwit woman.
Ann shook her head, trying to free the bound braid that held her so that if she could see, she would be looking up at the overhead. Her tanned breasts jiggled a bit and attracted the attention of the woman who sat in another chair, a few feet away, scanning a yachting magazine and, although she had been expressly forbidden to do it, listening to an IPod. Ann could hear the blaring rock noise that escaped the woman’s ear buds and she was sure that partial or permanent deafness and perhaps even brain damage was already taking place in the addled brunette’s head.
The woman, whose name was Isa, suddenly looked up as if she read Ann’s derogatory thoughts and took her right hand off the magazine and inserted the index finger between Ann’s breasts. She wiggled the finger a bit, feeling the firmness of the flesh, and then pulled hard on the small fabric connector between the soft bra cups. For a moment, the fabric resisted and Isa’s finger pulled Ann’s upper body slightly forward while the chest and waist ropes dug in against the pressure. Then the bra stretched and broke, the slightly padded nylon and Lycra cups falling away and Ann’s conical breasts with their tan lines and rigid, light tan nipples popping anxiously out. Isa quickly grasped the right nipple and squeezed enough to make Ann scream into her gag, twisting her body slightly as she tried to free her captive tit, but only increasing the pain as Isa squeezed harder.
“You should get used to dis,” Isa said quietly, holding onto the nipple with a crushing thumb and forefinger grip and pulling the tit away from the struggling woman’s chest. “This is just the beginning and it’s going to be a long, but wery exciting vacation for you.”
Ann shuddered and jerked again on her head braid restraint, a thousand conflicting thoughts filling her straining head, wondering what was going on and how this woman had managed to get her into this situation. She knew she was no longer in her hotel room or on the yacht. She remembered vaguely hearing a light tap on the door only to be thrown backwards as the lock was freed and two women in black uniforms burst in, shoving her backwards onto the bed. Ann was on her back and fighting, but the drugged food and drink limited her strength and she felt the sudden sting of an injection going into her right bicep. The two women held her down and didn’t release her until she blacked out. When she awoke, she was tied, gagged and blindfolded as she was now. She had no idea what had happened to her daughters or the twins.
“Let me give you some advanze informazion,” Isa said. She had a trace of an accent which Ann, who was well traveled and spoke a few languages well enough to get around in Europe and much of Asia, could not identify. The woman’s pronunciation of “information” sounded to Ann like “inframzion”, and she wondered what this meant in terms of why someone like this was keeping her prisoner and tormenting her tits with such enthusiasm and anger. She could hear no sounds other than the insidious rap tumbling out of the IPod’s ear buds and she pondered again where she was and how anyone would find her. She also wondered about her husband and if they had also kidnapped him. More than once a week, the family held their own informal discussion about security on the boat and the possibility of kidnapping was always on the topics list. Everyone knew and understood that if they were abducted, there would be no ransom or negotiations unless it was made clear to the investigating authorities that they were alive, well and would survive the ordeal. Unfortunately, the briefings had not dealt with the possibility that they would be taken while ashore.
Now, tied, blindfolded and gagged with some crazy woman yanking on her nipple, Ann reconsidered the policy. She only knew that she had been taken from the hotel by parties unknown. She didn’t know how long ago that was or where she was now. She didn’t know what had happened to the four girls. In other words, she really knew nothing. The room she was in now told her nothing. She knew that her disappearance would eventually trigger a search, but by then she assumed she and possibly the others would be dead…or worse.
As these thoughts raced through her head and the woman continued to abuse her breasts, Ann began to cry. It would be some time before she got any answers to this horror puzzle and when she did, she wouldn’t like the answers at all.
“Maybe you like this,” Isa said, dropping the magazine and releasing Ann’s red and swollen nipple. “Maybe I should help you enjoy it, huh?”
“Nahg, nahgggg, ooooo…” screamed Ann into the fat rubber penis filling her mouth. “Eeeeezzzz…”
Isa pulled Ann’s torn T-shirt away from her neck and shoulders, ripping the rest of the bright yellow cotton material free of the chest ropes and letting the torn shirt hang down the back of the chair. She took a folding knife from the back pocket of her khaki trousers and carefully inserted the blade between Ann’s hard body stomach and the waistband of her white shorts. She cut downward slowly and carefully, but the sharp tip of the blade nicked Ann’s stomach and thigh flesh twice, perhaps intentionally, bringing a scream and anguished twisting while Isa continued to cut from the waist to the bottom edge of each leg. With these cuts complete, Isa pulled Ann’s shorts off and threw them beneath the chair. All that remained of Ann’s clothing was a tiny, flesh colored thong and Isa gleefully grabbed the front of this and pulled it away, the thin nylon back band of the thong leaving a deep red strip of strained skin behind. Now totally naked and shaking with fear, Ann began to beg, making sobbing sounds and trying to shake her head despite the gag, restraining braid and the ropes.
Isa ignored her. She was having fun with this wealthy bitch who was obviously a trophy wife and spoiled rotten with her luxury living and condescending attitude. Isa was up and out of her chair now, rummaging through one of several leather bags that were lined up along the sculptured rock wall of the small, spare room. She picked up one bag and brought it over, setting it down next to her chair and then moving in close to Ann. Isa watched her captive with a certain sadistic fascination, imagining all of the things she could do with Ann Norquist, the twins and her daughters before they were turned over to the slave masters from South Africa. Seven new acquisitions was a good catch and the rewards paid to Isa and the other slavers would be plentiful, once the deals were done. Cape Town was a long way over the horizon. The freighter they would soon be on had two more weeks on station here, off the Venezuelan coast, before it headed east with a full cargo of attractive, young, female captives destined for the covert internet body exchanges of Africa and Europe. Ann Norquist, her daughters, the twins and Connie and Carol were about to join the freighter’s captive passengers. By their time they got to Cape Town, they would be well trained and far more cooperative.
Chapter Seventeen
Shore Raid
One of the key security features of Altuna was that all of her charter firm’s crews were American and met the highest standards. Global Ocean Ltd. made a big deal about how they tested each crewmember periodically for drugs, required them to take monthly lie detector tests and made certain that they had no criminal record. Blemishes of any kind on their record meant dismissal without pay. A bust for any kind of crime or drug use was automatically disqualifying and the Norquists were told that in the event that any member of the crew was found to have somehow dodged these investigations, they would be put ashore at the first port with nothing but their clothes and passport, if they had one. If any real crimes were committed, the shore authorities were advised and this usually meant at least a few days or weeks in jail while the local cops sorted out the charges. To further enhance this threat, the yacht’s captain was empowered to not only prosecute offenders but to provide more than adequate advance payment to the local cops to assure that the port government incurred no expense to incarcerate and try the offenders. With this draconian policy well known, there few incidents on board the Altuna and the crew’s personnel records were unblemished except for the occasional drunken incident ashore or minor squabbles among the female crew. Crew quarters were unusually luxurious in that each crewmember had her own private cabin with entertainment center, computer and internet access. With such special privileges, only the occasional idiot got into trouble while ashore or aboard.
While Bibi managed the search and rescue operations, Captain Ingram moved Altuna closer to St. Sebastian Island, staying well off shore and in the radar protection of several smaller, uninhabited islands. She mobilized Altuna’s extensive protective resources according to ship’s SOP. By now, they were dealing with multiple emergencies and the disappearance of eight people. First, there was Ann Norquist’s absence and failure to establish communications with her. Second, there were the two missing Norquist daughters and their friends, the twins. Third, two crew members had disappeared while diving and fourth, Jean Groff was still unaccounted for. Any one of these incidents would have normally triggered the amber alarm, but in combination, it was clear that the yacht, its passengers and crew were under some sort of serious threat.
Leaving the SAR ops in Roz’s hands, Bibi decided to go ashore at a point a bit south of the small town on St. Sebastian, using one of the fast RIBs and taking three crew members with her. The mission was multi-goaled: find Ann Norquist, search for the two Norquist girls, for Carol, Connie and the twins; determine what, if anything, anyone knew about the mystery off-shore dome and establish when and where Groff went ashore, if in fact she did.