Dark Erotic Fiction

The Border Crossing Begins

Flora and Buffy knelt quietly in the back of the moving delivery van. Slave girls in the hands of an experienced slave handler less than half their age, they had been given no choice in the matter and were now tightly strapped in place and beginning their journey to their first owners. During the loading process, Flora would normally have carefully watched her closest friend and evaluated her every move as she was led into the van. Instead, Flora had kept her eyes aimed respectfully downward on the sidewalk as she patiently awaited her turn to be loaded. Then, eyes still locked on the heels of the young woman who was leading her deeper into slavery, she had hobbled up the ramp. Flora’s fiercely independent streak had been hamstrung by a few simple consequences of her new status. She had no idea that young Clara had known exactly how to burst her bubble of self possession and confidence.

The small step van had a simple ramp protruding from the opened twin doors at the vehicle’s rear. After she entered, Flora had only scant seconds to observe that the ceiling and walls of the unadorned bare metal interior were lined with heavy steel ring attachment points. Lengths of chain, leather cuffs, and binding cord were scattered messily about the interior.

“When necessary, this van can hold nearly twenty women packed in upright like sardines,” Clara whispered softly to Flora as they stepped into the van.

Flora’s eyes ignored the slavery paraphernalia and instead she tugged back in denial away from the naked backs of five young women bound side by side over parallel rows of three black fiberglass mounting blocks. Atop one of the rear-most row of mounting blocks was the naked rump of her friend Buffy and the sixth station was vacant awaiting Flora’s body. In addition to everything else that had occurred, Flora finally got a close up view of the two tattoos that adorned their butts.

“Hooo!” was her muffled protest.

Clara’s eyes hardened at the mother’s involuntary move toward the back of the van and freedom. She yanked hard on the leash, drawing them close, and stuck her mouth beside Flora’s ear. “That’ll cost you cunt! Your opinion matters less than the ants we walked over crossing the motel sidewalk. You are no longer in charge of your destiny! A poor report from me and you’ll be hanging over a milking rail with some kid pumping hypodermics full of hormones into those fat tits of yours! Or, … maybe your owners will have you consigned to a Mexican whorehouse servicing tourists and young college kids until you’re properly subservient!”

Flora was slammed down belly-first onto the vacant mounting block next to Buffy. Deftly, Clara ran a strap across her lower back and cinched it tight. With her ankles already hobbled and her hands cuffed behind her back, the simple strap rendered the big breasted blonde fully helpless. Clara pushed down firmly on her face and her gag-covered mouth was pressed tightly into a section of neoprene rubber lining the ‘head’ of the mounting block. A strap slipped over the back of her head and Flora couldn’t move her head even to peer sideways. Another set of straps slid over the backs of her ankles and tightened.

“Sometimes we do the tattooing here in the van,” Clara whispered into Flora’s ear. “But in your case, it was a lot more fun to let that young boy help prepare you. Should I check your slimy pussy again to see how juiced up you are for another round of sex?”

Without waiting for permission from the gagged blonde, Clara’s fingers quickly slipped along the exposed gooey crease between Flora’s legs. A musky stench rose from the wet trail she left across Flora’s forehead.

“Yes, … you’re a natural slut,” Clara said loudly with evident satisfaction. Then, she whispered just for Flora to hear, “I think you need a bit more cock to remind you that you’re nothing now, … nothing but a cum bucket or house slave for your Masters.”

“Girls,” Clara announced gaily to the van load of six gagged women, “this bimbo here asked to be the one to ‘tip’ the guards and inspectors at the Nogales Border Crossing Stations. I know it’s piggish of her to want all their attention, but she begged so nicely that I finally acquiesced and decided to let her have her way. So, … all the blowjobs and wham-bam-fucks will be on this greedy cum slut.”

Flora wanted to die. Unfortunately, she could do nothing about her predicament.

Clara strode down the ramp grinning. “The bonus is mine!” she thought gleefully. “One of the bimbos was already a natural submissive and the other is easy to read and manipulate. Both of them are natural, hot-blooded sluts. They’ll make perfect domestic slaves. ”

Southbound on Interstate 10, Clara and her load of livestock quickly left Tucson, passed by Green Valley, and approached the small town of Nogales, USA. Having passed through the border inspection stations many times, Clara had her personal papers, vehicle registration and insurance cards, and the cargo manifest and proofs of ownership at hand. At the border station, she pulled into the right lanes of traffic behind tractor trailers and approached the row of parallel kiosks.

“Hey, honey!” The burly woman in a Border Patrol uniform greeted Clara with a big grin as her truck window lined up with the woman’s booth window. “I haven’t seen you crossing for awhile; you got a nice load of girl flesh today?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Clara answered cheerfully. “Sorry you’re not in the inspection pens today ‘cause I’ve got a hot bitch you’d really enjoy.” As she spoke, she passed over her special Border Trade Zone Slave Passport and a copy of the truck manifest. “One of the cunts is older with a nice body, big soft tits, and an ass to die for. She’s newly converted and needs a little persuasion.”

“Where are you delivering today?” The woman asked after giving an appreciative whistle at the description and smiling widely at the implicit offer to use the slave if she could take a break soon.

“Ma’am, I’ve got two serving wenches each for Club Cuervo Negro and Club Subio Roja and then a delivery deeper south in Mexico.”

“Nothing for the Orquidea Dorada? That’s a shame. And, you’re not going further south than Puerto Peñasco?”

“Sorry about not having new meat for your favorite club, Ma’am. Maybe they’ll have some openings soon and you can preview them here at the border crossing. And, no, Ma’am, I’ll be stopping in Puerto Peñasco.”

“Alright then, … proceed on to the manifest inspection bay. Maybe I’ll take a break and check out your girl in the livestock inspection shed.”

Clara retrieved her passport and paperwork and cautiously drove forward to the lane going into the cargo manifest station. Once under the large shelter, she parked the van at a vacant inspection lane for human livestock, got out, and stood by the door waiting for an inspector.

Pedro Gonzalez’ assistant wasn’t too pleased to see that she didn’t know the inspector that approached her van. Clara smiled and held out her paperwork. Given that some men disliked a slave that spoke, Clara remained silently smiling while the man reviewed her paperwork.

“I’ll need to inspect your livestock,” he said perfunctorily. “You know we have to confirm your loads are all legitimate slaves.”

Clara nodded and led the way to the back of the van. “Their access to databases sucks majorly,” she told herself. “Immigration doesn’t even have mobile handhelds to compare faces with slave database files.” A heavy multi-function barcode scanner with a high-resolution color screen hung from her belt. It used a wireless transceiver to communicate with a mobile computer workstation mounted in the van. Pedro Gonzalez made sure that his workers were tied into the most up to date files on the slaves they processed or delivered.

Miserable Flora was fully aware when the rear doors of the van opened and the outside heat flooded into the air conditioned compartment. She also knew that her sex was obscenely pointed upward at the doorway.

“Hey, these are pretty cool mounting blocks,” a man’s voice observed.

“Yes, Sir,” she heard Clara state respectfully. “We can pack them in when necessary by hanging the meat from the hooks but with a few high-end bitches like this load, it’s best to pamper them a bit. This way they don’t get bruised in the shipment and they’re easier to play with.”

“I’ll need to see their faces,” he replied.

“No problem, Sir. Just release this catch and the bitches’ heads are freed. I can have any of them released for a full inspection as well; they’ll have to be coffled for inspection and processing on the Mexican side anyway.”

The inspector’s radio cackled and a female voice broke in, “Fred, this is Nina. I’ve got some new immigration forms and I’ll finish up for you.”

After talking with Nina, the guard turned to Clara and said, “Another inspector will be finishing up here. This is my first day and I don’t know anything about new paperwork.”

“That’s a shame, Sir,” Clara responded in an alluring voice. “Maybe next time we’ll have some free time and I can show you some of the fine points of inspecting human livestock.” As Clara spoke, she ran her fingertips down Flora’s naked spine, lingering for long seconds inside the cleft of her ass cheeks.

“Ummm,” Flora moaned and feebly raised her freed head a few inches in protest. Her piteous look at the inspector was ruined by the bovine appearance she gave with the wet gag straps running across her face.

“Holy shit,” the inspector whispered. “Is the slave aroused by this?”

“Come here,” Clara whispered, “check out her twat, it’s dripping like a faucet.”

“Wow!”

“This one’s a real slut,” Clara said smugly. “She’s in heat all the time.”

Flora moaned again at Clara’s tone. She knew it didn’t bode well for her.

Beside her, Clara jerked back smoothly on a lever mounted beside the mounting block and the entire assembly rose up to waist level.

“Unhhhh,” Flora moaned again.

“If you want, I’ll delay Nina for a few minutes and you can take her for a test ride. There are condoms in the bag hanging there by the truck door. Lock the door behind me and you’ll have at least fifteen minutes while I pay the export fees and do the paperwork.”

“Be sure to test out all her holes,” Clara offered. “If she’s deficient in any way, I’ll show you how we cane their cunts to encourage better performance. This will be the best cum bucket you’ve ever used or she’ll regret it for weeks.”

“Hoooo!” Flora moaned.

“Yeah, I guess you are a hot-blooded little ‘ho,” Fred said misinterpreting Clara’s muffled attempt to stop her use as a jism sponge.

“Unggghhh,” she grunted as he sunk home in one long lunge.

“Holy shit!” was his groan of appreciation.

Flora felt tears begin to flow down her face as the big cock on the inspector opened up the tight sheath of her vaginal canal. Resigned to her fate, she began to squeeze her inner muscles rhythmically in an attempt to speed up her rape and make her mounting more enjoyable for the inspector.

Unused to mounting helpless slaves, Fred began to screw the bound slave girl in the same thoughtful manner as he used on his own girlfriend. He varied his angle of fucking, swabbed his cock in little circles when he was fully seated, and explored Flora’s tiny anal star with one inquisitive thumb while the thumb and forefinger on his other hand pinched at her clitoris. His talented fuck aroused Flora to the point that she unwittingly began to snort and grunt in anticipation of a memorable orgasm.

Above Flora, Fred was happily fucking away as the beast beneath him bucked and grunted, fueling the speed and strength of his thrusts. He was fascinated with the way long strands of snot and drool dribbled off her gagged face as her head moved about in ecstasy. Fred the new border station inspector was very happy with his first day on the inspection line. His only fear was that he’d have no time or energy left to use the nymphomaniac bitch’s other two sex holes.

Nina was also happy with the outcome of Fred’s first inspection. Initially, she’d been surprised when Clara demurely asked, “Perhaps, I can service you today? The bitch I thought you could use in the van is getting stuffed right now by your new inspector.”

Clara proved to be very talented at pleasing a dominant woman. Nina was well relaxed as she accepted the ten dollar inspection and export fee per head for moving human livestock across the border.

Flora was still in befuddled post-orgasmic bliss as the van lurched forward and crossed onto the Mexico side of the border crossing stations.

The Trail Runs Cold

“Nick! I expected concrete results by now. This is disappointing, … your reputation appears to be grossly inflated!”

Nick Bolter, owner and chief investigator of Texas Bail Trackers & Recover Agents winched into his phone at the lawyer’s accusatory tone. “Look Boss,” he replied trying hard to hold back his exasperation and reassure his client, “Things haven’t been going too smoothly on this case and I called to give you an update, not to make excuses, so let me talk. We not only plotted the pattern of dumped cell phones, we physically followed the trail. It just doesn’t jive with the bank’s information on time and location for the ATM withdrawals. The obvious data indicates that the girls left Hutchinson and proceeded northeast, dumping the phones on the way to Topeka. Then, they cut way west and then south before backtracking northward to hit the ATM machines.”

“Yeah, Boss, … I understand that your theory is they’re going to Canada because of the more lenient slavery laws. Let’s set that thought aside for the minute and go over the results of searching the rented bus. Have you received our report?”

“Good, … you saw it’s completely inconclusive? There were no fingerprints or DNA leading to your missing girls. No, Boss I don’t consider a clean bus a dead lead. In fact, the very lack of evidence makes me very suspicious; after all, who drops off a bus after a rental that’s cleaner than its been since it rolled off the assembly line.”

“No, … you’re right, … I have to admit that the cash trail leading north does support your feeling that they’re Canada-bound. Hey, but don’t be misled by rumors, Canadian slave laws are pretty ironclad; the problem with Canada is their national psyche is against the death penalty and they don’t like the way slaves are killed off so easily in the United States. As a result, they have a lot of government oversight on slavery processes.”

“Hey, … you’re a lawyer, … if they’re going to Canada, I bet with a hot Canadian legal team you could get a Canadian judge to process a judicial enslavement order against every one of the college girls placing their ownership with a Canadian proxy that agrees to keep the slaves on Canadian soil. Do you have any good legal contacts in Canada?”

“Shit!” Nick snarled after he finished talking with Ralph Stubbins. “Just what we don’t need, a fucked up case with a wanna-be detective as client.”

“Shhh,” Nicole purred from the nearby motel room bed, “come over here and fuck your favorite Recovery Agent one more time before breakfast. Later, we’ll tell Derek to take his team and chase the false northward trail while keeping our clients appraised the whole way. My gut tells me that you and I should focus here in New Mexico for vehicle rental activity, Arizona and Texas for large groups of women border crossers, and even the state slave databases for unusual activity. Those girls either have a well thought out escape plan or they’ve been double-crossed by the New Underground Railroad Movement itself. There is simply no way that many clueless college chicks could disappear without more of a trail. Either way, if they got off that bus in New Mexico as you calculated from the mileage on the rental, then they needed transportation to continue to Mexico.”

Nick apprised his female associate’s lush body sprawled out most unladylike on the king-size bed. Her entire body was atop the sheet, her feet widely spread, knees high in the air, clearly beckoning him toward her puffy vaginal lips bare and lewdly exposed under a neatly trimmed triangular bush. One of her hands reached under a full breast and plumped it upward. The fingers of her other hand danced lightly across her tummy toward the juncture between her legs; along the way, the blood-red fingernails traced across dozens of his recently dated IOUs and signatures. Sighing resignedly, he picked up a sharp-tipped black magic marker and returned to the bed.

“That’s another twenty buck bonus,” Nicole moaned in excitement, already primed for sex.

“You know,” Nick muttered truthfully as he put the black marker tip to a bare patch of belly, “When I PPC you, then things will be both cheaper and easier for me. I won’t have to pamper you, … no need to pay a salary, … and no bonus to get into your panties. Plus, … I’ll have all the fucking I want.”

Nicole stuck out her tongue. “Hah!” she teased. “You don’t have any slaves and you know that I’m hotter than any slut you could find on the road. When was the last time I demanded any foreplay before you stuck it to me. Face it, I’m the absolute best fuck you’ve ever encountered.”

“That’s what you think,” Nick thought smugly as he finished dating his signature on her taut stomach with a flourish. “If you were my slave,” he continued silently, “you’d be as hot in bed as I demanded; I’d give you absolutely no choice in your training.”

Already in a strategic position between his assistant’s legs, he finished crawling up over her supine form and he grabbed her wrists.

Nicole grunted in surprise as she was deeply speared by his hard cock. She gasped in appreciation when he yanked her wrists hard away from her body, stretching her bow tight between a hard dick and the unrelenting grip of his grip.

“Ungh,” she hissed, “that’s it, baby, … fuck me, … come on, … hard, … harder you wimp!”

At the taunting, Nick immediately set up a blistering pace that jostled her entire body each time their groins thumped pubic bones together. Above her writhing body, sweat began to dribble down off Nick’s chest and face as he drove into his teasing assistant as hard as he could. Under him, she was animalistic in her lust, twisting like a wildcat, thrashing about, grunting, and moaning as much as any untamed forest creature.

“Nicole, you are a great fuck,” he moaned.

Later, as she was shrugging her trim form into her skin-tight black pants, Nick had to acknowledge that in addition to being the sexiest bitch he’d ever had his hands on, she was even more talented at tracking their elusive quarries than he was. The shiny badge on her belt at her right hip, the handcuffs at the small of her back, the brace of knives slipped down inside her boots, the automatic tucked into a shoulder holster hidden by her stylish blazer, and other surprises secreted about her outfit spoke of her deadliness in a fight. “No, Nicole,” he admitted inwardly with more than a little regret, “I can’t afford to PPC you and won’t consider it unless you do something terminally stupid like cutting me off from using your perfect body.”

Completely unaware of the turmoil inside her lover’s brain, Nicole was thoroughly enjoying what she thought was his lecherous stare as she dressed. “Let’s go, baby,” she whispered when she was ready. “We can fuck again later on, … that is if you can still afford me.”

Nick had lounged naked on the bed while his lover / Recovery Agent carried on the complicated task of getting dressed. While utterly relaxed from the quick and energetic bout of sex, he was not totally distracted by Nicole’s beauty as she dressed. Instead, Nick was carefully reviewing the thread of thought presented by Nicole just before he jumped her bones. “Was the Underground Railroad Movement involved in their disappearance?” he wondered. Was anyone external to the movement involved in their disappearance?” The more Nick pondered the question, the more he became convinced that some agent external to Hutchinson was responsible for the vanishing act by the college girls.

“The timing immediately after the Eastlake Raid makes me think that some national-level organizer for the New Underground Railroad Movement stepped in and took charge of the women. Her idea about a double-cross might explain everything. Maybe a Troubleshooter or Clean-up Crew stepped in and took charge of the mess before it could be traced back to the national headquarters.”

Nick rolled out of bed and grunted, “Nicole, forget about focusing on transportation. Instead, check every border crossing into Mexico for movement of large groups of slaves. If that doesn’t work, then check every large slaughter operation in the southwest. Call Derek and have him do the same along the Canadian border crossing points. I think you’re right; the college cows have been double-crossed by the New Underground Railroad Movement. They’re erasing the trail back to their national organizers. Those girls are going to disappear forever.”

Inwardly, Nick was worried. “If this is a sterilizing operation, then in just a few hours those girls could be hanging from meathooks and we’d lose any chance at bonuses. Our only hope for getting the wives and our bonuses is if they’re being consigned for shipment offshore. That would give us a few more days to find the trail again. Crap!”

The Reality Sinks in and It’s Not Fun Anymore

It seemed to Flora that she was in never ending misery. Despite considering herself a strong and self-reliant woman, the experiences of the morning had completely shattered her confidence and deeply eroded her feeling of self-respect. She was on the verge of mental collapse.

“My butt is covered with tattoos,” she told herself in disbelief. “It’s really true, … Buffy and I aren’t cheating housewives anymore, … we’re slaves.”

Withdrawing inwardly to escape the horror of enslavement and tattooing, she failed miserably and instead continued to bemoan her fate. The only faint glimmer of hope that she still nourished centered on a fervent trust that the boys to whom they’d enslaved themselves would take care of them. Virtually cowed, she paid no attention to the faint whimpers of complaint and fear from her weaker-willed friend lying beside her. Flora knew her life couldn’t get any worse.

She almost missed the quiet knocking at the motel room door. Not wanting to see the horrid woman who’d paddled her before leaving her to be tattooed, Flora turned her head away from the door and reluctantly set the side of her face in the slimy mess she’d made on the rubber sheet.

“Ma’am, it’s Derek.”

Flora moan piteously at the voice of the pimply-faced boy who’d delivered their breakfast room service. “It can’t get any worse, … can it?” she moaned aloud, her verbal complaints made senseless by the distortion from the too-tight gag.

“I’m sure glad you asked for help, Ma’am,” the boy’s excited voice continued.

“Do exactly as I say and I’ll give you twenty bucks for helping me process these two sluts,” Clara replied. “I’m finished with the tattooed bimbo on the end but she needs a quick whore’s bath, a shampoo, and a complete shave between her legs. After you’re done, I’ll inspect her for any missing hairs. Everything you need is in the bathroom.”

“Ssshave her,” Derek stuttered eagerly. “I get to wash her and shave her?”

“Yep,” Clara said distractedly. “Look, … I gotta get back to work on this other bitch. You’re on your own to get that one into the bathroom. Now, … IF, … and that’s a big IF, you do a perfect job and the whore is gushing pussy juice from being manhandled, then there’s a bag of condoms on the table by the bed. In other words, … get her excited and you can fuck her however you want.”

Flora felt hands tentatively exploring by her ankles.

“Keep the bitch restrained,” Clara warned, “she’s not trained at all.”

The boy’s grip shifted about several times but he finally wrapped a loop of binding cord around one of her ankles, freed it from the spreader bar, and then drew it firmly toward her other foot. When her legs were freed from the spreader bar, her wrists were still firmly tied at the other end of the rope.

“Be careful of her ass,” Clara cautioned. “I sealed the new ink with Vaseline but don’t rub it or get soap on it.”

Flora was horrified when the boy easily drew her arms back up over her head and raised her torso backwards off the rubber sheet. Her spine bowed painfully backward before she tottered backward and up onto her bound feet.

“Holy crap! Nice titties,” the boy muttered.

“Hey! Follow me,” he commanded.

With no options, Flora took a tentative hop toward the bathroom. She cringed as her boobs bounced with the hop and the boy leered backward at her. Despite being warned about the consequences of her body sexually responding, the teen’s obvious sexual interest in her body evoked spasms of lust deep in her belly. Another tug and she dutifully hopped once again. The boy drank in every bit of her naked body in motion. Slim as only teenagers can be, the boys growing erection was obvious.

“Ho!” she moaned into the gag trying to quell her unwanted response to the humiliation of being controlled by a boy.

“Oh, yes!” the boy answered with a big grin. “Even with my college classes, I save plenty of free time to watch all the National Media Group television programming. I’m almost fluent in gagspeak.” Derek made her kneel at the edge of the tub with her head pointed toward the faucet. “So, … yes, … you’re gonna do exactly what I want and afterwards I’m gonna fuck you senseless.”

Flora could barely breathe as water cascaded down over her head. The teen shampooed her hair so vigorously that her entire body shook. Her knees were trapped inside his wider spread knees with the result that the hard lump in his crotch bumped against her naked pussy with every lurching move either of them made. She was trapped between a hard cock and the cold enamel of the outside of the tub.

The situation got worse. Flora thought she was going to lose her mind when the leering boy with post-pubescent acne easily lifted her rump up on the faux-marble top sink, spread her legs, and skillfully began explore her outer labia where her treacherous clitoris was out of hiding. The little guardian at the top of her pussy was already swollen and throbbed at each light caress. Flora smelled her own arousal and felt the musky liquid pearling on her sex. The boy kept her primed throughout the long, slow process of shaving everything off between her legs.

“Stay!” he commanded when he was finished.

Flora, half reclining back against the sink mirror had no thoughts of escape in her cowed mind; plus, she had little choice as her re-bound hands were now behind her back and tied to the faucet. The free ends of the binding cord around her hands had been used to draw her heels up beside her ass, leaving her puffy sex fully exposed. Flora dully noted that her labia had peeled back, exposing the deeper pink of her inner vaginal cavity.

Clara’s inspection was quick and efficient. “Nice and clean,” she praised the boy. “Go ahead and fuck her if you want,” was the granting of his reward made in a tone that clearly indicated the slave was of no more value than a dish of buttered peas passed down the table at supper.

“Uhhh,” was Flora’s grunt as the surprisingly long teen cock slid home in her pussy.

“Nice twat,” he hissed in her ear as he got fully seated in her core.

The position she was bound in let him have full access to her sex and Derek took full advantage of it. His hands roamed freely across her lurching breasts and he began to grunt in time with his thrusts. “When’s the other bitch gonna be done?” he called into the other room as he kept up his screwing.

Flora didn’t hear the Clara’s reply as she was unexpectedly overtaken by the most memorable orgasm of her life. Experienced cock hounds, Flora and Buffy had experienced thousands of orgasms in their lives; hundreds in each other’s cheating presence. Even so, the sequence of events that led to Derek casually walking up and stuffing her with his cock culminated in not only the most memorable orgasm, but the most overwhelmingly powerful one.

At the bathroom door, Clara smirked at the muffled screams of ecstasy coming through Flora’s gag. “Slave,” she whispered spitefully. She turned away knowing full well that the housewives had been given no choice except to enslave themselves. “Whore wives make the absolute best slaves,” she added as she clipped a chain leash to Buffy’s slave collar. “Especially the ones that think they are better than their friends.”

Clara had a special perspective from being a slave herself. Also as a slave assistant to a busy slaver and transporter her sense of judgment had been honed such that she immediately pegged Flora as the leader of the two cheating ex-housewives. “She probably pretends her friend is the slutty one that gets them involved with men,” Clara muttered. Then silently she added, “Not only was it fun seeing her fall, but setting her in her place was key to ease their future training without too much violence.”

Clara had been promised a bonus if she accomplished the nearly impossible task of sticking to a tight delivery schedule and delivering a pair of unmarked and cowed slaves eager for domestic training by a harsh taskmistress. She fully intended to claim the bonus. Clara shivered at the thought of failing. Carmine hadn’t been too happy when Clara asked her to give a light paddling to the two new slaves. Of her two owners, Carmine was the most demanding; Clara was luck to have much more contact with Pedro who ran the business. Carmine was reluctant to administer anything except a horrific punishment for the slightest infraction.

The paddling that had shocked Flora and Buffy was mild and left no marks beyond a lingering red blotchy color to their butts. Carmine Gonzalez had known that giving the helpless women an unexpected and seemingly undeserved paddling would intensify the pain factor tenfold and make a long-lasting impression on the previously pampered and spoiled women. She was absolutely correct; Flora and Buffy no longer thought of themselves as free women.

Fate Comes Knocking at Their Door

Buffy tightened her grip on the thin hotel blanket she had wrapped around herself. “What’s going to happen to us?” she whined to her friend Flora.

Flora shrugged. “I think that will soon be entirely up to Jonathon and Hank.” She turned to her friend and added sadly, “It’s hard to imagine that our greedy pussies brought us to this; we’re going to be owned by two boys barely older than our daughters.”

“I don’t wanna be a slave,” Buffy moaned peevishly and hunched down into the blanket.

“Just a few minutes ago, getting ridden hard by Jonathon’s cock was the only thing on your mind,” Flora reminded Buffy.

“That’s different,” Buffy sniffled. “We’re the ones who’re supposed to decide when we want to get laid. Besides, he’s a great stud.”

“Wonder how much you’re going to like it when he decides to take you up the ass with his big cock? I know how much you dislike anal.”

Buffy cringed. “Maybe you can distract him like you always do with the pros at the country club.” She looked pitiful as she begged, “Please, … you don’t mind it so bad that way.”

Flora sniffed disdainfully, “You’re thinking too much like a well-to-do suburban housewife who’s in charge of her life. If he’s a normal Master, he’ll probably strap you silly for trying to divert his attention from your ass. Buffy, … face it, … we’re really going to be slaves. This isn’t some sort of sex game like we’ve played before. This is real.”

Four loud knocks at the door interrupted the two best friends in their misery.

“Guess this is it,” Flora whispered.

When Flora opened the door, she was faced by a slim black-haired woman standing on the door stoop with a large leather satchel and a four-foot roll of cloth.

“You Flora or Buffy,” the young woman asked without preamble.

“I’m Flora,” she answered while taking in the woman’s heavy black slave collar and the well-used looking riding crop slipped under the belt of her shorts. Flora blinked at the brilliant red hue of the skin-tight hot pants. “Is that her twat?” she wondered at the deep crease between two puffy mounds at the ‘V’ of her legs.

“Where’s the other one?” the woman demanded.

“Hhhere,” Buffy answered hesitatingly from her position on the bed.

“I’m Clara,” the woman said, “Even though I’m Pedro’s slave, you’ll faithfully follow all my directions, … got it!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the two older women answered in a chorus.

“First, lose the robes and go get me pee samples,” she ordered. “Oh, and leave the bathroom door open.”

While the women were squatting red-faced over the toilet straining to pee a sample, Clara pulled a folded rubber sheet from her satchel and flipped it over the room’s single king-sized bed. She threw a couple of pillows atop the waterproof cover and turned to the roll of cloth which she hung behind the motel room door as a photographic backdrop. Finally, from her satchel she extracted two slim manila folders. Methodically, she arranged two nearly identical lines of typed forms on the tiny table in the squalid motel room.

Even before the two housewives were finished with their pee samples, Clara had let another woman into the room after she quietly knocked. Carmine Gonzalez, the wife of Pedro Gonzalez ignored Clara and carefully examined the forms she’d laid out on the table. A nod was the only sign that everything was correct.

Flora and Buffy hesitatingly returned to the tiny room, embarrassed to be naked in front of yet another fully dressed woman and openly carrying their still warm pee samples.

Wordlessly, Clara took the plastic cups and after sitting at the table, carefully tested each. “Mistress, everything is in order,” she whispered. “Neither is pregnant or under the influence of alcohol or drugs.”

For the first time since entering the room, Carmine grinned. Neither housewife was reassured by the woman’s sign of happiness. Their first look at the stocky woman had told them that the Hispanic woman held a lot of repressed rage inside her heavy form.

“Your wish is to be enslaved and owned by the two boys Jonathon and Hank?” she asked in slow but perfect English syntax overlaid with a heavy accent.

Flora and Buffy simply nodded, they were too ashamed to put the thought into words.

“You have the money?”

Again the women nodded.

“I’ll need every single penny you have. Your owners will receive everything not used in your conversion, taxes, transportation, and other fees.”

Having already searched their nearly empty purses, Buffy obediently handed over the two rubber-band-bound rolls of bills. “That’s every cent, Ma’am,” she whispered.

Carmine didn’t even examine the wads of cash; instead, she peeled off a few bills to toss on the table by Clara and then simply threw the remainder into her purse. Without another word to the women, she brought out a stamp pad and a Public Notary Stamp.

“When do we become slaves?” Buffy asked timidly.

“As soon as you sign,” Carmine replied gruffly. “Do it here, … here, … and here.”

As Buffy signed the forms, Clara took a series of digital photographs to record the session. In just a few seconds, the paperwork on Buffy’s slave conversion was completed. Flora stepped up and also signed away her freedom. Clara’s camera clicked as she continued to record the transaction. She made sure to have several face and full frontal nude shots of the women against the backdrop hanging from the room’s door.

Carmine reached into Carla’s satchel and extracted two heavy electronic slave collars visually identical to what Carla wore. “The sensor units in these are keyed to Carla’s collar,” she said in her characteristically hoarse voice as she slipped the first collar around Buffy’s neck. “Leave her side by more than fifty feet and you get increasingly painful shocks until finally, your heads are blown off. Give her problems and she will shock you. You see, … easy.”

The second collar clicked loudly as it locked around Flora’s neck.

“Any questions? No, … then kneel.”

With a tear in her eye, Buffy bowed her head and knelt beside her friend.

“Knee-walk up to the bed!”

Carla positioned a pillow at the edge of the bed by Buffy, grabbed her collar, and drew her body down over the pillow such that her naked breasts and face landed on the clammy rubber.

Carmine did the same to Flora. Each ex-housewife had their fannies aimed upward by the pillows under their bellies.

“Arms forward!” Carmine commanded. “Legs straight and feet apart!”

Flora watched helplessly as Carla looped a cord around her wrists and tossed the free end under the bed toward her feet. Carmine fumbled around her ankles and something soft clicked around her ankles. “A spreader bar?” she thought as Carmine latched her ankle cuffs to the bar. A strong tug on her arms told her that Carmine had found the free end of the rope under the bed and tightened it around the bar between her feet.

After trying in vain to move her feet or loosen the tight bonds, she looked to her friend lying beside her on the bed. Other than being able to watch Buffy’s wrists being skillfully bound by Carla, she couldn’t see what Carmine had done behind them to bind their feet.

Something hard patted once against her butt. A moment later, horrific pain exploded across her rump. “Eiiiiii!” she shrieked in shocked pain. Belatedly, she heard the swish that heralded a second blow. “Nooo! Eiiiii!”

Tears flowed and snot gushed from her nose as Flora screamed again and again into the slick rubber covering on the bed. It was long after Buffy had also received her own equally severe paddling before Flora slowly began to become fully aware of her surroundings.

“Wwwhat was that for, Ma’am?” Flora whimpered.

“Mistress is gone, … but I’ll explain,” Carla answered matter of factly as she finished organizing the physical and digital files documenting the women’s enslavement. “There were two reasons for your punishment. First, Mistress Gonzalez wanted to remind each of you that much worse punishment than twenty strokes of a wooden paddle awaits disobedient slave girls.”

Buffy softly moaned in anguish beside Flora. She looked to her friend and gasped as she hardly recognized the red puffy face covered in snot and tears topped with wet stringy wads of blonde hair. “I must look the same,” she thought in horror. “I bet our butts are bloody from the bitch’s paddling.”

Flora glanced back at Carla just as she spoke again. “Second, … Mistress wanted you to understand that you were paddled, … because, … she, … felt, … like, … it. You’re lucky Mistress is distracted because she and Master have a huge load of new slaves to babysit through Mexican customs. Otherwise, she’d have stayed longer to make sure you never forgot your first lesson as a slave.”

Buffy whimpered at the thought of additional punishment meted out by the fearfully strong woman. Flora was certain she didn’t want more pain.

“Are you girls going to give me cause for further punishments?”

“No, Ma’am,” rang out a jagged chorus of affirmation. Each buxom blonde silently vowed to obey any and all commands; neither wanted to feel that blistering agony again.

“Open wide,” Clara commanded.

A fat spongy ballgag was jammed into Flora’s mouth. The slight discomfort became much more acute as Clara jerked the strap around her head tighter, drawing the ball deep into her mouth and cruelly stretching the corners of her mouth.

Flora next felt an icy sensation across her right butt cheek. She was puzzled to hear a pulsating buzzing from behind her. Tiny pinpricks of pain began to dance around her butt. It took a few minutes before she recognized this new humiliation. “A tattoo?” she whimpered to herself. “The bitch is giving me a tattoo!”

Flora started to struggle and demand the woman stop. Instead, she slumped down in defeat. Sobbing quietly, Flora simply cried. The buzzing continued on and on.

Much later, the icy sensation of another alcohol wash, this time on her left ass cheek, indicated that Flora’s humiliation wasn’t nearly over. The stinging sensation began anew on her left cheek. Fresh tears and drool from the ballgag mingled with the older juices that had accumulated under her face on the rubber sheet. There was no doubt in her mind that she was at the lowest point of her life.

Her buttocks were now adorned with two very different three-inch-high tattoos. The stylized bull’s head on her right cheek signified that she’d been processed and enslaved by Pedro Gonzalez’ Sonoran Desert Livestock. The more colorful sahuaro cactus on her left butt cheek indicated her present owner, PGH Ranch.

<

The Sorority Advisors Get an Alternate Offer

Aaron led his five friends to the hay shed where the adult former leaders of the Phi Beta Phi Sorority were waiting to be processed. Cyndi Lynn, Sandy Clarke, Margeret Grant, and Lacey Reed all sat defiantly on hay bales waiting for their turn.

“This is a pretty stupid idea, girls,” the forceful Cyndi Lynn began with impatience as she saw the ex-sorority sisters arrive along with Aaron. “It will go better for all of you if you let us go this instant.”

“Yes,” Lacey Reed added with conviction, “let us go and we’ll ignore the way you’ve kidnapped us. We’ll forgive you and won’t mention you burned down the house.”

“Ohhh, shut up!” Aaron responded tightly. “You embezzling bitches are in no position to complain about your present situation.” Aaron continued to glare at the women until they settled back in shocked silence.

“Embezzling,” Cyndi Lynn whispered. “What on earth are you talking about?” The high school teacher and Phi Beta Phi Executive Board President had quickly recovered from the revelation that Aaron possibly knew something about their scheme to defraud the Kansas Cattlemen’s Trust Bank, Salt City Realty, and the Kansas Cattlemen’s Legal Services. She was certain that Aaron was only guessing.

“Oh, shit!” the banker’s chubby wife moaned. Margeret lost any semblance of defiance and sagged down in naked defeat with absolutely no tools to fight for her survival.

The tall black-haired lawyer took a deep breath and hissed at Margeret, “You gutless cow!” She turned toward Aaron and added, “You’re full of it, you don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about!”

Aaron Fleming smirked at the women and remained silent for long seconds. “That might have been true until I received three rather pointed cell phone messages. The first was an irate phone call from somebody named Ralph Stubbins. Lacey, he certainly knows who you are and he seems intent upon inflicting a lot of pain on your body.”

Lacey Reed paled in terror. Her mouth opened and closed several times without uttering a word.

Aaron turned to the other women and added softly, “Sandy and Margeret, your husbands also told me you’ve also been very bad. They’ve already filed judicial writs for your enslavement and are willing to pay exorbitant rewards for your return.”

The two wives slumped down and they began to softly sob.

“By the way,” Aaron added, “Ralph Stubbins also told me about the substantial reward for the return of Cyndi and Lacey. Lacey, he is royally pissed at you for violating his trust and embezzling his money; he’s filed a Writ of Enslavement against you. Of the four of you thieving bitches, Cyndi is the only one whose status is somewhat nebulous as she isn’t linked to a husband or business with a grievance against her. However, Ralph Stubbins assured me in that message that all it will take is for one of your co-conspirators to rat you out before they own you as well. He’s pretty certain that Margeret will cave in with hardly any torture.”

Margeret Grant moaned piteously at the mention of being tortured.

“You bastard!” Lacey whispered. “What do you want?”

Aaron nodded and let a slight grin of satisfaction flicker across his face. “Good,” he said, “That’s a much better attitude. I’m willing to negotiate so we all win in this deal. Just keep in mind that it has to be worth my while for me to go against four powerful businessmen. Thankfully, they don’t have absolute proof that I’ve helped you.”

“How much of a reward are they willing to pay for our return?” Sandy Clarke asked softly.

Aaron shook his head, and answered, “No girls, that’s not how it works. Right now I have your naked bodies chained here fully under my power. You’re lucky I’m even willing to entertain your offers. After all, I could just torture the information from you, steal all your money, and then dump your bodies.”

Slim brunette Cyndi Lynn sat upright and pointed her perky breasts toward Aaron. “Turn us loose and we’ll give you five thousand dollars each for our release.”

Aaron couldn’t help but notice the stiff nipples that topped the high school teacher’s firm breasts. “The reward is quite a bit more than that,” Aaron responded softly as he fought to ignore the temptations that surrounded him. He was very sure that treacherous Cyndi had just offered herself to him if it would save her ass. “Besides Cyndi, I’m not sure you even have access to the money.”

“You’re right there,” Lacey Reed interjected nastily. “Cyndi might have come up with the original idea, but I’m the one that set up the accounts and managed the logistics of hiding the money. You can have ten thousand each for releasing Sandy, Margeret, and I; Cyndi is only worth five thousand since she hardly put any cash into our account.”

“No, … that’s tempting but still well below the incentives Ralph offered. Plus, the bank has demanded some of the sorority girls to demonstrate to the town that he hasn’t lost control of his bank loans.”

“No!” Margaux whispered. “Aaron, you can’t let them have any of the girls. All four of them are sadistic bastards. I’ve heard enough rumors to know not to cross them.”

Aaron nodded in agreement at his girlfriend’s words. “Yeah, Ralph mentioned something about his country club.”

Lacey Reed, formerly an assertive and combative partner in Ralph Stubbins’ law firm slumped down; she’d fainted dead away at the mention of Ralph’s country club.

“Guess the rumors about evil happenings at his country club are true,” Aaron observed dryly at the sight of Lacey’s comatose form.

“We’ve heard more than one story about strange things happening at country clubs in Kansas, Oklahoma, Arizona, and New Mexico,” Carmella whispered. “The New Underground Railroad Movement has a task force investigating quite a few country clubs. They’ve infiltrated many by either approaching certain sympathetic wives of members or by inserting employees as staff members. It’s all very hush, hush.”

Distracted by Carmella’s comment, Aaron silently wondered why she knew about something that was supposedly a secret operation. “Yet another example of how clueless this Underground Railroad Movement is,” he thought.

“So, what’s your next better offer?” Margaux fired back getting excited about taking advantage of the overbearing women who’d so easily decided to sacrifice her and her friends back in Hutchinson.

“You lousy bitches!” Carmella whispered in anger. “I can’t believe you were going to let us die while you escaped with millions of stolen dollars.”

“You idiots were too naïve and stupid to remain free,” Cyndi Lynn snapped back. “At least the four of us knew our time was running out in Hutchinson. That’s why we started squirreling away any money we could get access to.”

“Who’s too stupid to remain free?” Margaux asked cattily. “You’re the ones sitting naked and chained under a hay shed trying to buy their way back into freedom.”

“Cunt!” Cyndi hissed.

“Thieving whore!” Margaux hissed back just as vehemently.

Aaron let the argument wind down by itself; he was enjoying the angry interplay between the two groups of women and he wanted Cyndi and her friends as off balance as possible. Gesticulating to make their points as they argued, all the girls launched jiggling bits of intimate womanhood about in ways that Aaron’s fired up libido fully appreciated.

“I want forty percent of everything you’ve stolen,” he finally announced.

“No way!” Margeret Grant howled. “That’s our escape money!”

“Shut up you brainless cow!” Lacey snapped, now once again back in the fight after realizing she still had a chance to keep from being converted by her law firm partner and facing a horrific end at the country club. “I want to hear his offer.”

“Once we’re safely past our next two inspection stations, we’ll find an internet café where I’ll create an account. Then, you move forty percent of the funds plus thirty thousand dollars into that account. After that, I’ll let you go with five thousand dollars cash apiece. That should last you until you can get to a final destination and begin to settle down.”

“You don’t get to see our account number or the password!” Lacey fired back.

“No problem,” Aaron said, “as long as you’re honest with my share. Fuck with me and I’ll start roasting your prettiest bits over a charcoal fire.”

“Deal!” Lacey said with satisfaction. “Let us go free and you’re welcome to forty percent of the take.”

“Now, if you’ll give us some clothes, we can get this show on the road,” Sandy Clarke stated emphatically.

Everyone looked at the thirty-year-old blonde as if she had six eyes.

“I don’t think you get clothes until Aaron’s ready to take Lacey to the internet café,” Margaux said smugly. “Who has the scanner? It’s time to cage these bitches!”

Within just a few minutes, Cyndi, Sandy, Lacey, and Margeret were collared, photographed, caged, and sedated. With everyone except the ATHENA crew settled in cages, Aaron handed out the remaining collars which the girls took with expressions of distaste. Nonetheless, they collared themselves and then looked at Aaron expectantly.

“Scan your collars and then make sure you image yourselves just as you did the others,” he commanded. “The database has to be perfect to successfully pass the two upcoming inspection stations we’ll be passing.”

Fully prepped with her statistics and images in the truck’s database, Margaux exploded in anger when she heard Aaron’s final directions.

“Why the hell can’t I ride up front with you!” she demanded in a shrill tone. Her breasts quivered as she angrily confronted her boyfriend.

“I agree,” Tania interjected, “why do I have to go in a cage like the rest of the girls?”

“Girls, … girls,” Aaron tried unsuccessfully to calm the women. “What you need to understand is that you’ll be split between two slave delivery trucks. We’ll meet my brothers in Tucson and even out the loads. Afterwards, we can have only two female slaves helping each load. Any more and it’ll look suspicious.”

“Well, I certainly expect to be riding up front with you,” Margaux responded. “Maybe you should lock your personal slut in a cage instead.”

Aaron paused and hesitated before continuing, “The main reason I’ve picked Gigi and Sofia to be assistants is that I know they’re willing to give blow jobs and maybe fuck the inspectors when it’s necessary. It’s traditional that if they become too horny from manhandling the merchandise and checking the slave data files, … well, they usually want to fuck around a little before the cargo pulls out.”

Both Gigi and Sofia glared at Aaron, angry at essentially being identified as sluts in front of their friends.

“What about us?” Debbie and Melisa demanded in unison.

“Well, you’re both blond and big breasted,” Aaron admitted. “Your obvious assets will do a lot to keep them distracted and I’m sure you’re willing to give a few blowjobs to protect your friends. Gigi and Sofia can be the ones offering other services.”

“I’ll want to talk with you later,” Sofia said with venom.

Gigi wisely kept quiet. While she was fuming with anger, she knew that of all the women, she had absolutely no choice in what Aaron decided she was to do.

“I think we need to have a long talk,” Margaux said with unquenched heat. “What makes you think Sofia is some sort of slut that you can just order to whore herself out?”

Aaron shrugged and pleaded, “Look, we can talk later all you want but we really need to get going. You have to trust my judgment in this. Margaux, I don’t think you’re ready to give yourself willingly to what would likely be a gangbang at the hands of livestock inspectors. Our load will total over a hundred scrumptious slave girls and they’ll need every inspector on shift to handle our paperwork. That’s a lot of horny men.”

Margaux practically snarled as Aaron triggered the pneumatic inoculating gun at her ass. She rubbed her butt at the injection site and whispered, “We really have to talk.” Finished talking with her boyfriend, she pointedly turned away and curled up in the tiny cage. “Bastard,” she whispered.

Aaron walked back to Gigi, Debbie, Melisa, and Sofia. “I know you’re pissed off at me, but this is the best plan that I could come up with. Debbie, Melisa, and Sofia you have to stay back here in the trailer watching the cages. We should meet my brothers in a few hours. I want a blonde with Sofia and a blonde with Gigi; you girls figure it out while we’re driving to Tucson. Gigi, come up to the cab with me and I’ll show you how to print off a manifest for our cargo.”

Almost as an afterthought, he went over to the box that still held a number of unclaimed slave transport collars. He threw four shortened white ‘T’ shirts and four tiny pairs of bright red shorts at the girls. “Get dressed in these. This is the uniform that that all the girls in Pedro’s crews wear.”

Gigi eagerly slipped on the clothing. She was happy to get anything to cover her nakedness.

Debbie, Melisa, and Sofia were less thrilled as they slipped the filmy white tops over their heads and then wriggled about trying to get the ultra-tight pants up over their butts. Dismayed, they examined each other and hoped that their own breasts, butt cracks, and pussy camel toes weren’t as exposed as what they saw on their friends. A large stylized bull’s head adorned the chest area of each shirt. Equipped with much larger breasts by mother nature, Debbie and Melisa had to move gingerly about or most of the bottom slopes of their boobs would peek out from under the short tops.

Aaron slipped a sturdy padlock over the latch holding the trailer’s doors shut, wrapped his arm around Gigi, and headed toward the cab of the big rig.

“How in the world did those men in Hutchinson find you, Sir,” she whispered.

Aaron slipped a hand down to possessively caress her tightly covered ass and he whispered back, “What makes you think that anyone contacted me about those thieving whores?”

Gigi abruptly stopped walking. “You’re serious?” she whispered incredulously. “You bluffed them into given you at least a million bucks?”

“Yep,” Aaron responded gleefully, “and, it wouldn’t have been possible except that you overheard them plotting back at the hay shed.”

“Holy Athena!” Gigi breathed in reverence. “You really fooled all of us. I think everyone fell for it. Wow.”

“Once again,” Aaron said gratefully, “thanks for your help. The money from those bitches will come in handy at our ranch. Also, both Hank and Jonathon owe you big time. Because we knew they’d been whoring around at their country club, well, … it was easy to fool them into enslaving themselves. They were absolutely terrified about being enslaved by their husbands. I had Jonathon mention something about a plot at the country club and that sure scared the hell out of them.”

“Yeah,” Gigi mused, “I wonder what the deal is with country clubs. Is it because they’re filled with rich deviant men or what?”

New Identities

Before beginning to process the college girls, Aaron first assembled his small group of female friends. Of the ten young women that had been members of the ill-fated ATHENA Cell, four were fully naked save for the flip flops, sandals, or tennis shoes they had worn the night of the sorority house burning in Hutchinson, Kansas. Busty Debbie Charnauf, well-endowed Melisa Robeson, slim Janella Lucatero (Gigi), and the formerly vivacious Jennifer Stanistow were the naked women. It was an awkward moment as the six dressed women uneasily eyed the four naked women.

“We’re going to get started in just a few minutes,” Aaron started. “But before we do that, I want to make a couple of reassurances to you. Only a few of you know all the details about the identities that my step-brothers purchased using some of the ‘war chest’ funds that the girls brought to the emergency session called by your leadership.”

Aaron took a deep breath and added, “My intent is for eight of you to temporarily pretend to be women that were previously enslaved and transported by the firm whose name adorns the truck behind you.”

Most of the ten girls looked at the sign prominently displayed on the trailer. Gigi, Debbie, and Melisa instead stared intently at Aaron.

“Janella, or Gigi as I renamed her, has permanently traded her freedom to escape Hutchinson and Jennifer needs to see a doctor. That leaves eight of you that when we get to my family ranch, you can drop the pretense and use your old identities until we arrange something better. Or, … you can have jobs on the ranch, … your choice.”

“Now, I won’t bandy words with you, the remainder of your comrades in terrorism will have little choice but to accept my offer to masquerade permanently as these previously enslaved women.”

Six of the girls gasped at Aaron’s comment. Given Jennifer Stanistow’s nearly unresponsive state since being rescued, it was not odd that she likely didn’t understand the impact of Aaron’s words. But, Gigi, Debbie, and Melisa already knew the details of Aaron’s plan and they didn’t look happy about it at all.

“Any of them that object, … or for that matter if you object, then alternatively I will offer them a wad of cash, seven-hundred and fifty dollars, and a car ride out of her. Of course, they will be naked when they are dropped off at their destination with no possessions save the cash. There is no reason for met to make it easy for them to try their own escape planning given that they’ll likely be arrested and then divulge details of your escape.”

“This really sucks,” Margaux whispered.

“Some things just won’t go away easily,” Aaron responded. “You put yourselves in a bad situation and this is the best deal that I can figure out. If any of you have a better idea, now is the time to get creative.”

Aaron stared back and forth from woman to woman. “Well?” he demanded after nobody introduced any ideas. “Alright, then,” he continued, “I want this next bit to go smoothly with as little confusion as possible. Since that’s the case, I want you each to strip down naked to your shoes and then to grab one of the slave collars to put on. If everyone else sees you’re already prepared for the trip, … well, that will help them to choose the best route.”

“Things do look as though they are going to go smoothly,” Aaron told himself with satisfaction.

“It will keep everyone much calmer if you’re all naked,” he had explained to the bug-eyed women that were aghast after being told to strip. Somehow, they all meekly shed their clothes except for Margaux who Aaron simply threatened with a warning that she would be punished by his slave Gigi in front of everyone if she didn’t comply. “I don’t have time to deal with babies,” had been his final comment.

Steaming mad, Margaux had finally given in to his command and she jerked off all her clothing save for her tennis shoes.

Aaron had given each girl specific assignments and he now stood inside the trailer examining the triple-high row of cages on either side of the center walk-through. At forty-feet-long, the trailer held ten cages that were three feet deep, four feet wide, and three feet high. The upper tiers of cages were reached by a clever mechanism that raised center runway. All together, the trailer held sixty cages in six rows of ten.

On the ground behind the trailer, outside the twin doors that had been flung wide open and anchored back against the side of the trailer, was a small folding table with a laptop computer and a multi-function barcode scanner. Now every single woman by the hay shed was fully naked and blonde Debbie Charnauf only stood out from the others because of her oversize soft breasts. She sat with her fingers poised over the laptop keyboard and she was staring expectantly at the first Phi Beta Phi Sorority Sister to be processed.

Melisa Robeson, also blonde and just as naked as Debbie, held tightly on Jamie Roland’s elbow in front of the table. Jamie was a popular member of the sorority that had been the Scholarship Chairperson. She wore only her glasses.

Confirming from her pubic hair that Jamie was a brunette, Debbie reached down in the box that held sorted stacks of collars from slave girls previously transported by Pedro Gonzalez and selected one that had once belonged to a brunette. She plunked the collar down on the table and Gigi scanned the RFID chip in the collar. A data screen popped up on Debbie’s laptop.

“Jamie,” she recited using a note card as guidance, “we remind you that having been linked to a terrorist organization, your capture and death is imminent. However, as promised back in Hutchinson, our friend Aaron Fleming has purchased an identity that he hopes you will accept in order to escape this death sentence.” She glanced at the data on the screen and continued, “You are hereby offered the chance to masquerade as Maybelle Larson. This identity is a woman with your basic age and hair color. If you accept our offer of protection from the U.S. authorities, please affirm yes and place the collar around your throat.”

Jamie looked hard and long at her friend Debbie. “I think I get it, … do we really have a choice?”

Debbie looked her friend straight in the eye and stated solemnly, “Yes, you can decline the offer of identity in which case Aaron has arranged alternative transportation for you without a false identification. In that case, he will provide you seven-hundred and fifty dollars cash and a ride out of here. However, if you accept Maybelle Larson’s identity, he has promised that you will be treated humanely and will not be maimed or killed.”

Jamie nodded calmly, “Yes, I accept.” She reached down to the table, picked up the collar, and clicked it locked around her throat without hesitation. “Let’s get this going,” she added with a quiver in her voice.

Melisa gently nudged Jamie, now Maybelle Larson, so that she backed up to a pale blue photographic backdrop. Gigi, aimed the scanner at Jamie and began taking high-quality digital pictures. As the laptop received each image wirelessly, Debbie cropped each shot to the proper size and dragged the images into the data file for Maybelle Larson. Within moments, the laptop contained crisp and clear images of Jamie overlaid into Maybelle Larson’s detailed slave file.

Blackhaired Sofia Wickline was next in line holding onto Fawn Baker’s arm. Fawn had watched the entire transaction with Jamie with her eyes bugged out in near hysteria.

As Sofia and Fawn stepped forward to the table, Melisa snapped a steel lead chain onto Jamie’s collar and tossed the free end up to Aaron in the truck. As Melisa headed back to the hay shed to gather up another woman, Aaron gently tugged Jamie forward and she climbed the ramp into the trailer. She balked at the sight of the steel mesh fronts of the sixty cages but had no choice but the follow Aaron all the way to the forward section of the trailer. He opened a kennel cage and silently motioned for her to enter. Just as her luscious rump was about to pass the cage door, Aaron smoothly swept a pneumatic inoculating gun down at her butt. With a hiss, a cocktail of drugs flew through her soft flesh and buried themselves deep in her ass.

Within moments, Jamie Roland who was once Scholarship Chairperson at a prestigious sorority would plunge into a deep sleep to awaken much later as slave girl Maybelle Larson.

Back at the table, Debbie was carefully intoning, “Fawn, we remind you that having been linked to a terrorist organization, your capture and death is imminent. However, as promised back in Hutchinson, our friend Aaron Fleming has purchased an identity that he hopes you will accept in order to escape this death sentence.” She glanced at the data on the screen and continued, “You are hereby offered a chance to masquerade as Reena Rathenberger. This identity is a woman with your basic age and hair color. If you accept our offer of protection from the U.S. authorities, please affirm yes and place the collar around your throat.”

Fawn, unlike Jamie, simply responded, “Yes,” and collared herself. She followed Aaron completely docilely into the trailer and didn’t resist once during the long walk forward to the cage next to Jamie. She flinched when the drugs hissed into her ass and looked back at Aaron with accusing eyes. “Remember that you promised to take of me,” she whispered.

Next in line was Randi Handyside with a tense Carmella Henriksen and Hillary Brunn each very tightly holding her elbows.

Debbie swallowed nervously. “Randi,” she said beginning her recitation, “we remind you that having been linked to a terrorist organization, your capture and death is imminent. However, as promised back in Hutchinson, our friend Aaron Fleming has purchased an identity that he hopes you will accept in order to escape this death sentence.” She glanced at the data on the screen and continued, “You are hereby offered a chance to masquerade as Janell Prescott. This identity is a woman with your basic age and hair color. If you accept our offer of protection from the U.S. authorities, please affirm yes and place the collar around your throat.”

Randi didn’t hesitate a moment. “Fuck you,” she spit, “I will not become involved in your schemes.”

Debbie had been prepped in what to do in case the identity was rejected. “Fine,” she said evenly, “in that case Carmella and Hillary will temporarily chain you on the other side of the trailer. Later we will give you directions on your alternate escape method.” She ignored Randi’s look of defiance as she was dragged away. “Next,” she called.

This time, it was chubby brunette Tania guiding an equally chubby brunette, Penelope Straw, to Debbie’s position at the desk. The Sorority Treasurer possessed an absolutely astounding set of breasts that put Tania, and almost all of the other sorority sisters, to shame.

Penelope Straw quickly accepted the identity of Janell Prescott and meekly stood by as her photograph was taken in a number of poses. She did experience a moment of deep terror as the cage door clanged shut behind her. Beside her, Fawn was settling down in her cage and Jamie, the first to be loaded, was already sound asleep. Penelope sobbed before she too began to drift off to sleep. She curled into a fetal position and began to softly snore.

By the time the primary processing had been completed, only four women had refused Aaron’s offer of a new identity. The fully naked presence of the ATHENA Cell members had reassured the remainder of the college girls that acquiescing to Aaron’s offer was the best choice given their dire situation. Annabelle Palazzolo the frigid Sorority House President, Randi Handyside the beefy Sergeant-at-Arms, Coralee Scott the prickly pre-law PR Officer, and Summer Fox the graduate student House Mother were the four hold-outs. They were left chained on the far side of the tractor trailer miserable in the full heat of the day.

Toward the end of processing the main group, Margaux had led Jennifer Stanistow to the table. In her near comatose state, her opinion did not need to be solicited. She was collared, photographed, caged, and sedated without a word being spoken. Now, only two groups of women remained to be processed; the four adult advisors and the ATHENA Cell members themselves.

“Gigi and Debbie stay here at the trailer and make sure the girls are alright. Melisa and Sofia I want you to watch our four holdouts Annabelle, Coralee, Randi, and Summer. Everyone else, follow me.”

Aaron’s ‘Foolproof’ Plan

Aaron had almost driven all the way back to the site where the sorority girls were waiting. His phone rang.

“Yo! Bro! It’s Hank.”

“How did the bus drop-off work?”

“Everything went without a hitch. I left the bus at your place and am driving your car right now. Hey, … the odd thing is that local radio stations didn’t mention anything beyond the mysterious fire and a bunch of disappeared college girls. They haven’t said a thing about a New Underground Railroad Movement connection in Hutchinson or at St. Julia’s College.”

Aaron mulled over what his step-brother was reporting. “That is odd,” he replied. “Hey, Hank, have you heard from your brother yet?”

“Yes, I have,” Hank replied with evident satisfaction in his voice. “Evidently, thanks to your devious mind and your observant little slut, we should be getting a delivery at the ranch from our old friend Pedro Gonzalez in a day or so. Mrs. Buffy Bryant and Mrs. Flora Hatherly will soon have new names as our personal fuck toys. Way to go bro.”

Aaron glanced around the car. None of his passengers could hear his brother’s comments because he held the phone tightly against his ear. “Your Mom sent a text message and said she’d already spoken with the family lawyers. Arlene and Codi will soon be your younger sisters. The family just got a bit larger.”

“Yeah, … thanks again Aaron. Jonathon and I really appreciate getting those two hot-blooded bitches. Maybe we’ll have them outfitted in French Maid costumes that match the ones Mom has already prepared for your little Gigi.”

“Hey, Hank, gotta go,” Aaron interjected. “We’re almost at our turnoff. Maybe you can stop outside Tucson and help Jonathon. He’s picking up another of Pedro’s trucks and then he needs to finish paying for the collar rental and a few more slaves to round out our load.”

“Mmaster,” Gigi whispered after Aaron folded his cell phone shut, “why do you need to buy slaves?”

“Well,” Aaron replied conversationally, “we need the slaves to help mask you girls in the delivery truck. You see, Hank and Jonathon used to do summer work for a slave delivery service that covered all of southern Arizona. Pedro, that’s the owner’s name started with just one small van. His firm, Ganado de Desierto de Sonora or Sonoran Desert Livestock, specializes in pick up and deliveries of slaves. He started by hanging out at auction sites and providing transport to the new owner’s homes, businesses, or even alternative meat processing plants.”

“Yuck! Sending women away to be turned into meat is horrible!”

Aaron glanced over at Gigi. “Not really,” he replied softly, “despite a general understanding to the contrary, not every slave is suitable for use as a sex slave, a skilled factory worker or office worker, a domestic, etc. Plus, given the constant glut of newly enslaved females on the market, slaves have an artificially low value. So, it’s also a huge misunderstanding for people to think that all alternative meat comes from prime live roasting stock. In fact, Pedro does a volume business delivering from various court-sanctioned auction sites direct to processing plants.”

Gigi remained sullenly silent.

“Still think it’s inhumane, huh?” Aaron whispered. “Well, think of it this way. Because of Pedro’s business model, I have a sure-fire way to save your beautiful ass from torture and death.”

“How is that?” Gigi asked intrigued.

“Pedro was once hassled by the police for shoddy paperwork on one of the slaves that he was transporting. It wasn’t his fault; the auction house didn’t follow through with making sure the husband’s original enslavement forms were properly filed with the Arizona State Slaver Commission. He was initially arrested and charged with kidnapping. The experience was pretty traumatic and he vowed to never be caught in that position.”

Aaron concentrated for a moment on a particularly bumpy section of the gravel road. “Hank and Jonathon were both working for him at the time doing basic slave value assessment and making deliveries. Pedro bought some of those supermarket barcode scanners and began to put barcodes on slave collars. His idea was to associate data from the slave’s enslavement paperwork with that unique barcode. It worked like a charm. At inspection stops, he simply handed over one of his barcode scanners tied to his own database and the inspectors instantly got the data they needed. Course, they had to manually link back into the state’s archaic files but at least Pedro was legally covered at every stage of the slave shipping business.”

“Now, the really cool innovation came when, hmmm, well, I think it was Hank that found the newest generation multi-mode scanners online. At an expensive forty-five hundred dollars apiece, the new scanners read all the standard barcodes, RFID inventory chips, have a wireless feature that ties back to a laptop or store server, and can take and display pictures. Now, Pedro takes high quality pictures of all the official enslavement forms, the girls themselves, and ties it all to an internal database at his main office through a mobile laptop station mounted in each truck. Of course, it all links to the official Arizona Slave Database.”

“How does that help us?”

Aaron grinned. “You remember that huge box of lightweight slave collars back at the truck? Well, when Pedro first picks up a girl, he collars her and the collar has tags on it. One is permanent; it is plastic and simply engraved with the name of his shipping company contact information. The other tag is only used once as it contains a unique code associated with each new slave he comes in contact with. It contains a barcode and an RFID chip that ties back to the datafiles Pedro insists on creating.”

The hay storage shed and the tractor trailer, with Pedro Gonzalez’s firm ‘Ganado de Desierto de Sonora’ boldly emblazed on the side along with his logo, a bull peering over a fence rail, came into sight.

Aaron sped up his explanation. “Pedro assumes temporary ownership of every slave he moves and updates his files and the State Slave Database files of that fact. Then, when his people make the delivery, his policy is to add an acceptance signature to the file and then simultaneously updating both his files and the State Slave Database of the concluded transaction.”

“Aaron, That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing with his useless collars. I read the sign on the truck. Sure, you’re using Pedro Gonzalez’ truck, his slave collars, and his data files, but the problem is the State Slave Database will show he no longer has possession. This is a stupid plan!”

Gigi’s owner gave her a cross look and he whispered harshly, “Later I’ll give you a little training session that will remind you to never associate that word with your master.”

The woman beside him paled but wisely kept silent.

“I’ll ignore that transgression for now since we have so much to do. As to the collars, the catch to Pedro’s plan is that southern Arizona processing plants take well over half the slaves thrown out to auction. The plant meat inspectors are in a hurry to receive and process loads of ten to forty girls at a time. With that workload, they refuse to sign Pedro’s personal paperwork on the spot and instead, over the next few days, throw the collars of each woman into a box as they are processed. The state doesn’t require the processing plants to keep automated files and once a quarter they mail in a huge stack of paperwork to the Arizona Department of Agriculture. Those state bureaucrats are really slow about closing out the slave files in the State Slave Database. In fact, there might be a six month backlog in finalizing the data.”

Gigi was very pale-faced as Aaron parked the car beside the slave transport truck. “Yyou mmean that all the identities you purchased for us are those of dead slave girls that have become alternative meat products?”

Aaron grinned at the three stricken women in the car as he parked. “Yeah, … isn’t it brilliant?”

“You bastard!” Debbie hissed from the backseat.

“Is that why we’re naked, so you can force us into slavery?” Melisa demanded.

“No, … no, not at all,” Aaron insisted. “I promised to get you girls to safety and I mean it. I swear that I have no intention of enslaving you ATHENA girls.”

“What about the other girls,” Gigi asked softly.

“They will have the option of declining to accept the new identities.”

“So, they’re completely at your mercy?” Melisa demanded.

“Look!” Aaron insisted, “If they’d stayed behind in Hutchinson, they’d be enslaved, tortured, and most likely killed. This way, they get to safety and my family will see to it that they are humanely treated on our farm. I promise that as long as they behave, they won’t be punished, and we’ll never, ever kill them or allow them to be processed into meat.”

“Holy merciful Athena,” you’ve just gotten yourself fifty-seven slaves,” Gigi whispered.

“No,” Aaron said with a grin, “when I add Gigi and the two MILF mothers to the list, it makes an even sixty. Plus, there’s Jennifer Stanistow who might not adapt to being a free woman.”

“You enslaved Mrs. Bryant and Mrs. Hatherly? What about their daughters?” Debbie demanded.

“Oh, crap!” Melisa moaned.

Aaron grinned over at Gigi. “No, it isn’t that way at all,” he insisted. “Their husbands found out they were whoring around on them,” he lied. “My stepmom promised to legally adopt the two daughters even though they’re adults. As to the cheating moms, knowing their daughters were safe, and knowing that their husbands were going to slaughter them at some sort of country club function, they volunteered to become my stepbrothers’ personal house whores. Mom is already getting them French Maid costumes to match Gigi’s here.”

“Oh, crap!” Gigi moaned in humiliation.

“You bastard!” both girls whispered in unison from the back seat.

Surprise Development for the Sorority

The same morning that Flora and Buffy learned that their forbidden affairs at the country club were no longer secret and the same morning that Debbie and Melisa woke up naked on the floor of Aaron’s motel room a very somber and businesslike meeting was getting underway in Hutchinson, Kansas at the Kansas Cattlemen’s Trust Bank.

Arnold Grant sat scowling, red-faced with anger at the head of the table. Flanking him at the table were his two best friends, Thomas Clarke and Ralph Stubbins. All three men wore expensive suits and were distinguished looking men in their late fifties or early sixties.

The casual clothing and confident demeanor of the other three people scattered about the table were in stark contrast to the stiff and unyielding body language of the three well-dressed businessmen.

“I’m not sure I understand exactly what we can do to help you, Mr. Grant,” Nick Bolter drawled easily.

While all three businessmen still had their hair, all had streaks of gray from years of hard work and stress. Unfortunately, their plump bodies showed signs of neglect from conducting those years of work while in luxurious offices, paneled boardrooms, and fancy restaurants. Nick Bolter’s face showed the long-term effects of too much exposure to the sun and his lanky frame looked comfortable in the expensive cowboy boots, blue jeans, and cowboy shirt that he wore. He exuded powerful confidence.

“We want justice,” Thomas Clarke hissed.

“A little revenge would be nice,” Arnold Grant added with heat. “Those bitches set us up.”

“We need our money back as well,” Ralph Stubbins added softly.

Nick leaned forward, set his elbows on the gleaming mesquite table top, and steepled his hands. “Gentlemen, don’t get me wrong, we proudly provide a completely legal service to society that happens to be fairly lucrative. However, it sounds like you gentlemen might be better served by the police. What specifically do you want our firm to accomplish?”

Ralph Stubbins, the eldest man present at sixty-three took a deep breath. “Alright, I’ll lay it out in simple form. Mr. Bolter, we want to hire your firm, Texas Bail Trackers and Recovery Agents to find our missing wives, the runaway Phi Beta Phi Sorority members, and the man that might have made all this possible, Mr. Aaron Fleming.”

“Explain again the basis you have for the Applications for Writs of Enslavement?”

“First, most of the Phi Beta Phi Sorority members took advantage of our bank’s subsidized student loan program set up because my wife is an avid alumnus. Then, the local chapter of the Phi Beta Phi Sorority recently took out a large note, just shy of three-hundred-seventy-five-thousand dollars to make improvements on their facilities. The loan application was signed by all the Phi Beta Phi principal elected officers and by the Alumni Advisors Group. The names are all listed in the paperwork there in front of you. Now we’ve filed a protest, but the Fire Chief has already determined that the cause of fire was arson. Essentially, we’ve lost double the loan amount since the insurance company refuses to pay for replacing the Sorority House and we got the city to subsidize the loan with a guarantee by my bank that the historic building would be preserved in perpetuity. The city is already demanding to know our rebuilding schedule of an exact reproduction. Between the student loans and the note on the chapter house, we’ve easily lost over a million and a half dollars because of this fiasco.”

Nick grimaced as the extent of their loss settled in. Then he slowly shuffled through the thick stack of papers. “I see that you’ve listed five adult women, Cyndi Lynn the Phi Beta Phi Executive Board President, Sandy Clarke and Margeret Grant Chapter Advisors, Lacey Reed the Legal Advisor, and Summer Fox the House Mother.”

“That’s right,” Ralph Stubbins confirmed.

“Three of them are your wives or business associates?”

“Margeret Grant is my wife,” Arnold Grant admitted. “She orchestrated the loan package I set up from Kansas Cattlemen’s Trust Bank to Phi Beta Phi and got me to set up all the sorority girls with savings and checking accounts.”

“Sandy Clarke is my wife and one of my real estate agents at Salt City Realty,” Thomas Clarke said. “She managed to squirrel away all our operating accounts in some obscure off-shore banks. If we can’t track down all our missing escrow funds, … well, we’ll have some serious explaining to do.”

“Lacey Reed is a full partner in my law firm, Kansas Cattlemen’s Legal Services,” Ralph Stubbins continued. “She also doubled as our Comptroller so she and Sandy Clarke obviously worked together to hide all our operating funds as well as our investment portfolios including our corporate pension and personal investments.”

“Alright,” Nick added nodding. “I can see there is a huge psychological demand to get these women back to publically account for your losses.”

“Well, I see an obvious problem with Summer Fox,” the sole woman in the room interjected.

“I agree, Nicole,” Nick answered. “Gentlemen, I think we’d prefer to have nothing to do with her apprehension. Nicole’s position is that as House Mother, Summer Fox is strictly a hired agent with no connection to your loans or any other business dealings.”

“Fine,” Arnold Grant snapped. “Just find the other four bitches.”

“So boss,” Nick’s third team member asked, “what about this man, Aaron Fleming?”

“Almost the same as Summer Fox,” Nick answered, “we can find his trail, hound him through any personal or business contacts, roll up the bitches, and return to Hutchinson. We’ll leave him naked and bound for the police to find.”

“That’s hardly satisfactory,” Thomas Clarke sputtered. “He’s probably the reason this whole thing got going.”

“Look,” Nick interjected tiredly, “we won’t kill him and we won’t kidnap him. Otherwise, … well, lets just say we make no other guarantees as to his future health.”

“Gentlemen,” Ralph Stubbins purred, “that’s completely satisfactory as long as you understand our position on that bastard. We agree to your limitations. However, if he accidently fell and broke a few bones we might be inclined to pay a bonus of say five thousand dollars for photographic proof of carelessness on his part.”

Nick nodded.

“I’m sure he’s a clumsy fool,” Fred grinned.

“Please, gentlemen,” Nicole said, “let’s get back on track. Even though you refer to over sixty women in the court paperwork, you only specifically list forty women and their possessions on the Writs of Enslavement. What’s going on with that discrepancy?”

Ralph Stubbins suddenly looked uncomfortable. His banker and real estate friends looked at him expectantly. “Well, … you see, the neighbors indicated that a large gathering occurred the night of the fire. The city police are investigating to determine if any other young women are missing that might have joined in on these criminal acts. We feel certain that the court will agree to a linkage and add them to the Writs of Enslavement.”

“And the item in the news about a ‘terrorist’ connection to the Eastlake, Oklahoma attacks?” Nicole prompted.

Ralph looked even more uncomfortable. “Miss, our position is that the occurrences here in Hutchinson are criminal misdeeds perpetrated against the bank, the real estate firm, and the law firm that we represent. There is no terrorist nexus in Hutchinson, Kansas.”

“In other words, you’re getting the local police to stall so you can profit by enslaving the culprits before the prosecutors get involved,” Ralph said with a grin.

Nick held his hand up to forestall an argument. “I’m sure that there is also a political expediency in not linking this city to the lunatic fringe dabbling in the New Underground Railroad Movement. However, I have to agree with you gentlemen that the less police involvement in this case the greater chance we can satisfy your needs.” He clapped his hands, “Now, let’s talk money.”

Done with the legal wrangling, Ralph Stubbins nodded to his banker friend.

“Gentlemen, we propose to retain Texas Bail Trackers and Recovery Agents for a minimum of one month at one thousand dollars a day plus expenses. As you indicated earlier, the three of you backed by your office investigators would be dedicated to this effort.”

Nick nodded. “Go on, Mr. Grant.”

“Additionally, you are free to retain twenty percent of any cash amounts recovered during the operation. As we discussed, we expect that the sixty or so women held well over one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars in cash. Further, as a finder’s fee resulting from your work, we agree to pay you ten percent of all funds recovered from continental and off-shore bank accounts. Further, you are allowed first choice of ownership for one of every five women you apprehend. Is that agreeable?”

Nick Bolter nodded. “I agree. We can begin as soon as you get us notarized copies of the Writs of Enslavement, a check for forty thousand dollars for one month’s fees and estimated expenses, and the intelligence you mentioned that had already been gathered by your people.”

Ralph Stubbins nodded and grinned. “Gentlemen, here’s our files so far. We will e-mail updates to your office and to your text message accounts. Essentially, the police confirmed through cell phone records that sixty-seven suspect cell phones owned by Phi Beta Phi and other girls we submit were part of this scheme moved northeast from Hutchinson toward Topeka. Then, the trail picks up in Denver, Colorado with dozens of ATM withdrawals. Interestingly, funds were withdrawn from accounts belonging to all sixty-seven of our suspects. That’s why we think the court will rule this morning in our favor on all the names on the Writ of Enslavement.”

“Despite your concerns about Summer Fox,” Thomas Clarke interjected, “we feel certain that the court will agree to enslave her as well.”

“So, you left the accounts active to help convince the court to grant you ownership off all sixty-seven women and their assets,” Nick mused. “I wonder how many are trust fund kids?”

The room fell silent at Nick’s thought. Ralph Stubbins got a look of speculation on his face and shared glances with his friends. They all slowly grinned. “Nice, … very nice, Nick,” Ralph whispered.

“Boss,” Nicole mused, “Sixty-seven women should leave a mile-wide trail. Plus, five divided into sixty-seven means that we could be gaining thirteen top-notch slaves.” Her pretty face scrunched up in a feral grin that was positively wicked. “Hmmm,” she added softly, “very nice indeed.”

“As usual, Nicole, I agree wholeheartedly,” Nick Bolter said as he unfolded his lanky form. During the movement, his left hand unerringly reached out to grab his black cowboy hat and settle it on his head while his eyes locked on the businessmen’s, and his hand extended for a final handshake to seal the agreement.

Nick Bolter and his Texas Bail Trackers & Recovery Agents were on the hunt for escaped pussy and cold cash, their two most favorite things in the world.

Learning About Humiliation

At just about the same time that the two big-titted blonde cheating housewives woke up together in their Tucson motel, Aaron woke in room 126 of an ancient one-storey New Mexico motel located just north of Interstate Forty. As Aaron began to stir, his bedmate remained soundly asleep. Naked, their bodies were intertwined where they’d passed out from sheer exhaustion after their last furious, animalistic coupling. The deeply slumbering woman next to him was the ex-college student previously known as Janella Lucatero. The twenty-two-year-old former member of the ATHENA Cell of the New Underground Railroad was now simply Gigi, sex toy slave girl and soon-to-be upstairs personal maid to Aaron.

Aaron smiled in remembrance of their last bout of sex. “There was no love in it,” he thought fondly, “it was pure and simple lustful sex. Best of all, … it was guilt free for both of us because Margaux doesn’t mind my boffing her ex-friend as she’s only a lowly slave. As a plus, it’s obvious that Janella is a slut and gets off on being dominated; not that it matters because after she fucked up so badly in Hutchinson, she had little choice but to volunteer to be my slave. Her only option was to be publically tortured to death as a captured terrorist.”

He drank in the sight of her pretty face and tousled hair. “Wow! This is a far cry from my last few sexless months at St. Julia’s College.”

Aaron eased his six-foot-three, two-hundred-twenty-five-pound frame out of the bed. Gigi didn’t stir; the last twenty-four hours had been traumatic to the formerly naïve young woman and she was emotionally and physically drained. Aaron stood and extended his hands over his head in a long, silent stretching movement but froze in place as he spied movement on the floor. At the foot of the bed were two other ATHENA Cell members. Equally as naked as Gigi, blonde Melisa Robeson and blonde Debbie Charnauf glared up at him from under their shared comforter.

“Girls, don’t be mad at me,” Aaron whispered with a guilt free grin. “After all, how else was I to be sure that you hadn’t been caught and then betrayed us?”

The evening before, after Gigi had first feverishly sexually assaulted Aaron just seconds after arriving in room 126, Aaron had walked outside where he phoned Debbie directions to their motel. “Park the MILFs car and then go to room 125,” he’d explained. “The door to the room will be propped open and I’ll meet you there.”

Melisa Robeson and Debbie Charnauf had been chosen because they were blondes much like the MILF daughters Arlene and Codi. However, neither Melisa or Debbie had the slim athletic frames of Arlene and Codi. Instead, they had big soft breasts and flawless white skin loosely covering a pleasingly soft layer of baby fat underneath. Arlene and Codi were trim and taut tennis stars; Debbie and Melisa were walking wet dreams built like the proverbial brick shithouses.

Immediately after slipping into their room they encountered a stern-faced Aaron. Initially thrilled at completing the somewhat risky task of leaving a false northward trail of functioning cell phones from Hutchinson, Kansas and then driving long and hard to get to New Mexico via a roundabout route, they’d been shocked at Aaron’s untrusting attitude. After they realized he was serious with his unyielding demand that they strip, they’d whimpered and softly complained, but complied. Neither girl was excited about stripping before Aaron, especially with their ex-friend Janella (Gigi) grinning knowingly at them as they reluctantly took off their clothing.

Everything they carried save their identification, cash, and the car keys was left in room 125. Aaron then forced them to climb out of the tiny bathroom window, ushered them naked through the trash littered lot behind the motel toward his adjacent room, and then heaved their naked frames through his own bathroom window.

Once in his room, Aaron briskly bound and gagged Melisa and then left her curled up miserably in the bottom of the cramped and mildew-stained shower stall. Debbie was similarly bound but left ungagged. She was then subjected to an intensive questioning that brought out every remembered detail of their journey. Aaron then switched the women’s positions and quizzed Melisa. Their stories matched perfectly. The man responsible for the safety of so many women breathed a heavy sigh of relief that the women had not been compromised.

As it was very late by that time, Aaron had simply thrown a comforter onto the floor and commanded them to sleep. Debbie and Melisa were forced voyeurs to the very obvious signs of heavy petting, deep breathing, and then the liquid sounds of sex from the bed above them. Each secretly reached down to tease, rub, pinch, twist, and pull on their own feminine sex organs. The hardest part of their surreptitious orgasms was not giving it away with whimpers, groans, moans, or deep ragged breathing.

“I need to pee,” Debbie whispered. “Please let me loose so I can get to the bathroom.”

Aaron pulled the necklace he wore over his head and used the single key on it to undo the padlock that had held a shimmering length of chain around her waist.

Debbie blushed. “Please look away, … I’m naked.”

Lying beside Debbie, Melisa pulled the comforter tighter around her frame on her side of their makeshift sleeping area.

Aaron ignored the question and pointedly stared at Debbie.

“Bastard,” she whispered and reluctantly slipped out from under the cover.

“Leave the door open,” Aaron commanded mildly.

Debbie paused in the act of closing the door and unwittingly gave Aaron a perfect, lingering, full frontal view of the blonde’s lush body.

“Holy shit!” Aaron breathed reverently.

Melisa giggled beside him.

Debbie spun in place to escape his view giving him a spectacular view of her pure white breasts flying about from the abrupt move. Aaron also got a glimpse of fleshy pussy lips hanging between her legs framed by fat, jiggly ass cheeks.

“Holy shit!” Aaron repeated.

Debbie practically leapt the last feet to the toilet. Under her red-faced, bowed head, she hid a secret smile that such a handsome man appreciated her body. “I kinda wish that slut Janella and busybody Melisa weren’t here,” she thought wistfully. “Yeah, Melisa is a good friend, but her titties are just too big and firm; they might tempt someone like Aaron to ignore me.”

For lack of a restaurant at the dismal little roadside motel, Aaron simply gathered up his the three women and drove away. In the back seat, Melisa and Debbie had once again begun to glare at Aaron and Gigi. Prior to leaving the hotel room, Aaron had pretended that their discarded clothing was a potential hiding place for GPS transmitters. He simply threw slave collars to the two blondes and off-handedly added, “This is plenty of clothing for you two. Come on, let’s get back to your friends.”

“These are only pretend collars, … right Aaron,” Debbie asked hesitatingly.

“No,” he said easily, “they are real enough. To me, if a woman willingly puts on a collar, it means I can treat her like a slave until she decides to take it off. But, we’re in a hurry so I don’t have time to put them on for you and coddle you with statements like, ‘it doesn’t mean anything.’ I consider myself honor-bound to let a woman know if it means something more permanently.”

“So, putting these on mean nothing?” Melisa asked in confusion.

“Yes, that’s right! Now get in the car!”

Before Aaron took the Interstate Forty entry ramp, he pulled into the drive-through for a fast-food restaurant.

“I’m so gonna get you for this,” Debbie muttered as her hands attempted to cover her breasts and her pubic region.

Foregoing the remote speaker at the colorful menu board, Aaron zipped straight through to the window.

The teenager at the window gawked at the two collared and naked women in the back seat. “Wwwhat, cccan I gget you,” he stuttered. His eyes were clearly drinking in the view of breasts and pussies that Debbie and

Aaron turned to the back seat. “You two sex addicts want coffee with your breakfasts?”

Beet red, Melisa and Debbie just nodded.

“Tell you what,” Aaron offered to the teen, “get us four coffees, four orange juices, and four of those breakfast sandwich things. My sluts will be in to pay and to get just the right amount of cream and sugar in each coffee.”

The teen grinned happily. “Yes, sir! Coming right up!”

Aaron pulled up to the fast-food joint’s side door. The door locks clicked open loudly. “Here’s plenty of money,” Aaron said nonchalantly. “I’d like one cream and two sugars in my coffee. Oh, … and I forgot to order those fried breakfast potato things for each of us. Have the nice young man add them to our order.”

When the two mortified ex-college girls in the back seat failed to immediately comply, Aaron added softly, “Do you think anyone will believe you are free women that are just wearing fully functional slave collars as a joke? Here you are buck naked, … you’re easily the most gorgeous women for miles around, … and if I abandon you here as you are, … every horny bastard for a hundred miles will be fighting over who gets your lazy, disobedient carcasses. Now unless you think you can convince these folks that this is all a college prank, get your asses in there to get our breakfast!”

Gigi kept her face frozen in a stoic look, rightfully afraid to be drawn into whatever it was that Aaron was doing. “Thank Athena that I’m dressed,” she thought with relief. “Even without underwear, this is fine.”

“Stop right there!” Aaron commanded as the mortified women got out of the car and prepared to walk inside. “This is being done for a purpose. I want you to walk in there and pretend it’s completely normal for you to be naked. If you try and cover yourselves, or give away that you are unwillingly doing this, then when we get back to the others, I will command Gigi to give you each fifty slashes with a riding crop.”

Miles down the road, fast-food wrappers strewn about the crowded car, Melisa whispers loud enough for Aaron to he