The young woman sobbed brokenly as Junior Jones thrust into her. Her screams and pleas were muffled by the wad of cloth filling her mouth, held in with several strips of duct tape. More tape held her arms trapped behind her back and secured her legs together, wrapping her legs at the ankles and the knees. The remains of the yoga instructor’s tank-top were tangled around her tightly bound wrists, her exercise shorts around her knees. Apart from that, she was completely naked.
The captive woman shook her head, her coppery blonde hair whipping back and forth. Junior Jones reached down with his free hand and grabbed it, yanking her head back in time with each thrust. Not far away, the 24-year old Yoga instructor’s Wednesday Evening class, lay on the floor of the studio. All of them were quite a bit older than her, the youngest was at least 36, but all of them were fairly pretty and the yoga kept their bodies in good shape. Junior could tell, having stripped all of them completely naked.
At the moment, they were unaware of what their instructor was enduring. They’d been knocked out with chloroform. In addition to securing their arms and legs, taping their panties in their mouths and blindfolding them with a final strip of tape, he’d stuffed each of them with a pair of rubber plugs. A little surprise for when they woke up.
With a loud groan, Junior finished with the instructor. She gave a final, shuddering moan, going stiff for a brief moment before slumping down limply as he slid out of her. From his kit, Jones selected another rubber plug and positioned it between her cheeks. It slid in easily enough, eliciting another outraged squeal from the captive. A second, slightly larger plug followed into her sex. Jones had raped her there first, before trying out her virgin ass.
While the yoga instructor squirmed, trying without much luck to expel the uncomfortable penetrators, Jones reached down and grabbed her around her waist. He rolled the helpless woman over onto her back, so she was looking up. Her naked breasts bounced free of any restraint. Jones couldn’t help but take a moment to reach down and fondle them a bit, drawing more gag-muffled complaints from the captive.
Finally, he took a plastic zip-lock baggy from his pocket and drew out a slightly damp cloth, presoaked in chloroform. It was time to knock her out. Jones had only left her awake so she would be conscious during her rape. The feel of a terrified captive squirming underneath him as he pounded away at her ass or pussy was far better, to Jones’ mind, then taking a limp, sleeping, piece of meat.
The yoga instructor smelled the drug and started to panic. She’d already seen its effect on her three students and didn’t want to share their fate. Unfortunately for her, what she wanted didn’t matter anymore, as she’d soon find out. The cloth was clamped tight over the woman’s nose. A few whiffs and her struggles began to subside. After a minute, she was out cold.
“Not bad.” Jones thought, as he set the limp captive on the floor beside the three other prone figures. “Three sexy milfs and one lithe little yoga instructor bagged in an evening.” He grinned, looking over his catch. The yoga instructor was definitely the prize, and the reason he wasn’t able to wait until he got back to his base of operations before ‘sampling the goods’ but all four were choice pieces of merchandise and would fetch a good price once he got them to his dungeon, photographed them and started taking offers for the four soon-to-be slaves.
“Well, better get a move on…” Jones said, stirring himself from his silent contemplation of the four naked, bound and gagged women. Finding the flyer had been a stroke of luck, an evening yoga class at the civic center late in the night, after everyone else had gone home and the rest of the building locked up. Breaking in and grabbing them had been almost too easy. Still, it wouldn’t do to dawdle. Though he didn’t think anyone would come along and spot him, he knew from long experience as a slaver there was always a chance of the unexpected happening. Best not to push his luck.
“Besides, once I get these four back home I can have some more fun.” Jones thought, a leering grin crossing his face. He bent down and grabbed one of the milfs, a tall, slender blonde. She gave a quiet moan, into her gag, as Jones picked her up and slung her over one shoulder, but she stayed unconscious, even as Jones’ hand, placed on her backside to keep her steady casually stroked her.
Quietly, Jones slipped out of the multi-purpose room the Yoga class had been held in and down the dark corridor. He went out through one of the service doors which opened into an alley behind the civic center. With the building on one side and a retaining wall on the other, the alley was all but invisible. There, Jones had parked his van, in preparation for the four captives.
With his free hand, Jones opened the back doors of the van and lowered the unconscious woman into the van. The slaver had modified his ‘work car’ for its purpose of transporting recently captured women into their new lives as sex slaves. Besides the storage rack filled with rope, tape, shackles and gags, the back had been fitted with plenty of straps for securing unwilling passengers. Jones lifted the limp woman against one wall of the van and quickly drew two straps across her chest, one above the other below her naked breasts. On the floor of the van, two more straps held down her legs, stretched out in front of her. If the knock out drugs wore off while they were driving, the milf would still be completely helpless, unable to move until Jones was ready to move her into the waiting cage back at his dungeon.
Satisfied she was secured, Jones closed the door and returned to the room with the remaining captives. He selected another, a short, dark haired Asian mom, and began the process of carrying her to the van and strapping her in place beside her blonde friend. While he was strapping her in place, his phone rang. Jones pulled the phone out and glanced at the screen. He’d switched the phone to an offline mode, to avoid an errant phone call at the wrong time distracting him or warning his targets of his presence. There was only number which could still come through, the emergency line for the White Slavers’ Guild.
The criminal network Jones worked for handled all slaving operations in North America, with subsidiary groups and allied organizations in much of the rest of the world. Members like Jones had to submit request to the Guild before kidnapping and enslaving anyone, to avoid causing trouble by abducting the wrong woman or by flooding the market with too many slaves and lowering prices.
They also oversaw the slave’s eventual sale, making sure the customers were legitimate and not reporters or cops or caped heroes in disguise. Jones considered himself one of the Guild’s top ‘recruiters’. He was regularly called to do sensitive jobs for the higher ups; kidnapping celebrities, tracking down escaped slaves or making sure a nosy, spunk reporter girl never filed her story. If the bosses were calling him, it must have meant someone, somewhere had screwed up and they needed him to come in and fix things.
“Yes.” Jones said, taking the call. “Be quick I’m...in the middle of something.” Even though this call should be coming over a secure network, Jones was to professional to say anything that could hint at illegal activities over the phone.
“Something’s come up.” A voice said. Jones recognized it as Mike, one of the higher ups Jones worked with frequently. “There’s a job in it for you, high risk, high reward. I can’t tell you any details, but let me tell you, you just won the lottery buddy. This is the score guys like us dream about.”
Jones eyes widened, intrigued at this new. “What did I do to earn this opportunity?” He asked.
“Being good at your job.” Mike replied. “And being available on short notice. Some poor S.O.B. broke his neck and we need you in his shoes yesterday. Now, are you in or you gonna puss out on the best opportunity of your life.”
“I’m in…I’m in.” Jones replied, grinning. Hell yes, he was in. You didn’t get to be good in the slaving business without taking risks. High risk, high reward? That was his kind of deal, alright. “So, what do I do now?”
“Whatever you got wrapped up over there, take it back to your place. I’ll have someone waiting to take care of them, keep them secure till you get back or we find a home for ‘em. Don’t worry, you’ll get the full cut of whatever they bring in. Meantime, there’ll be another person waiting with a car. Grab whatever shit you need from your house and be quick about it. There’s a plane waiting on the runway with its engines cooking waiting for you right now.”
“Anything else I need to know?” Jones asked.
“Not over this line. I’ll tell you more when we meet face to face.” With that, the line went dead.
“Well that was interesting...” Jones thought, putting his phone away. His mind raced at the mystery. What sort of job did they need him for in such a hurry. How had the job slot become vacant so suddenly. And, most important, what sort of score was it that had Mike so excited.
In the van, one of the Milf’s gave a quiet moan through her gag, perhaps having a nightmare, even as she was unaware of the real nightmare she was currently in. Jones grinned, reaching over to pat her naked breasts a couple times. “Sorry ladies.” He said quietly. “Looks like I won’t get a chance to get to know you better. Still, don’t you worry. Soon you’ll meet a bunch of new guys who I’m sure just can’t wait to meet you four.”
Closing the van again, Jones hurried back inside and collected the remaining two captives. Quick as he could, Jones strapped them in place in the van and started it up. He had to struggle not to speed on his way back home. It wouldn’t do to get pulled over like this, with four bound, gagged, naked women in the back of the van. He couldn’t help it though. The mystery of this sudden assignment, and the promise of a payday like he’d never seen before, had Jones bouncing in his seat like a school boy.
“Well…” he said, casually calling back to his four, quiet passengers. “Sooner I get there, sooner I find out, I suppose…”
***
Sure enough, as Mike had said, he had his people waiting. Not in front of his house, fortunately, that would have attracted attention and odd questions from the neighbors but parked just around the corner. As they saw Mike drive by, a black car and an equally darkly colored van started up, pulled away from the street and followed him to his house.
In the back seat, Jones’ passengers whimpered quietly in fear. During the drive back, they’d come to, finding themselves naked, strapped in place in the back of a dark vehicle being taken to who knows where by their unknown kidnapper. Between the frightened sobs, they also gave off periodic moans, which said they were finding the twin plugs filling them a great distraction from their predicament, the rubber phalluses transmitting every bump and pothole in the road straight into their crotches.
As he reached his dark, empty house, Jones hit the remote to open the doors to the garage. As he expected, the van followed his own into the garage, while the car parked in front of his house, waiting for him. When the other van had parked, Jones hit the button to close the doors and switched off the car. The muffled murmurings from his captives intensified, as they realized their nightmare trip had, so it seemed, come to an end.
“Sorry ladies…” Jones said, turning around in his chair to look back at them. “This is just a pitstop. Gonna transfer you over to another vehicle.” Ignoring their muffled pleas, Jones unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. Stepping into the garage, Jones nodded to the two men who had gotten out of the other van, a pair of local slavers he knew named Todd and James. Returning the nod, they walked around to the back of the van and opened the rear doors.
“Wow, you bagged some quality tail here, huh Junior.” Todd said, whistling as the two looked over the four, sobbing captives inside the van. “Bet you’re sorry you’re not going to get a chance to have some more fun with them?”
Jones shrugged. “Yeah, but Mike promised me something big, so I hope it’ll make up for it. You’ll look after them for me.” He nodded to the captives inside the van.
“Sure thing. We’ll treat them real nice.” Todd said, reaching into the van. “Don’t you worry, ladies. You’re gonna have lots of fun with us.” His hands reached to caress the bare thighs of the yoga instructor. She cringed back, shaking her head frantically as his fingers slid upward towards her crotch, but strapped down as she was there was no way she could escape his probing touch.
“I think I like blondie here.” James said, leering down at the woman in question who looked back up at him, eyes wide with horror. “Know what I’m going to do with you when we get you back to our place…” Her face went pale as he described his plans for the captive. The other women sobbed brokenly as well, knowing they would share the same fate as her...
The four captives were unstrapped from inside the van and, one at a time, carried over to the second van. The inside there had been fitted with half a dozen cages, roughly the dimensions of a large dog kennel. The women whimpered as they found their new ride even less comfortable than before, kneeling, curled into tight balls by the confined spaces of the cages as they were forced inside, and the cage doors locked shut.
Jones, meanwhile, ran into his house. Packing was quick. One thing working on the wrong side of the law taught him was how to move fast when the heat was on. He grabbed his bug-out bag, holding only the bare essentials and added some comforts to it for wherever this new, mysterious assignment took him. By the time he returned down, all of the milfs and their former instructor had been caged up. Jones opened the garage doors to let the van with the two slavers and their helpless cargo, out, then closed the doors behind him. After locking up, Jones jogged over to the second car and got in.
Inside, two men were waiting in the back seat, in addition to the driver. All three were stern, serious faced men in suits Jones didn’t recognize. Jones was directed to seat himself between them. As he buckled in, one of them handed him a heavy cloth blindfold with a buckle strap, not unlike the kind he often used on the women he abducted, to keep them in the dark. Reluctantly, he put it on as the car pulled away.
The ride was tedious and awkward. Jones had no way of seeing where they were going, which struck him as a bit pointless, as he already knew which airfield the Slaver’s Guild flew its human cargo out of and assumed he was being taken there. The men did not respond to his few attempts to strike up conversation.
Half an hour later, the car stopped. Jones was guided out of the car and a short distance away to a stepladder leading up into a place. Once he was inside, Jones was allowed to remove the blindfold. He whistled in appreciation. He’d figured he’d be riding in one of the cargo planes, maybe with a couple crated up girls for company. Instead, he found himself in a luxuriously appointed, private jet.
There were maybe a dozen seats, scattered in pairs around the spacious cabin. In the back of the cabin was a full bar with an attached galley, and beside it a small lounge area with comfortable couches and a flat screen tv. One of the Guild’s private jets for big wigs, Jones guessed, maybe Mike’s personal plane. He grinned, ‘Mike’s job must be very important, if he’s going to splurge on me like this.” he thought. Looking around, he noticed all of the windows in the plane had been shut and a quick glance at his handlers told Jones that it would be a bad idea to try and open one of them in flight.
A moment later though, Jones was distracted from the windows and the reasons for his trip as the stewardesses came into the cabin. There were three of them, a blonde, a redhead and a dark-haired, dark-skinned girl. All of them were young, in their early twenties, tall, fit and drop dead gorgeous, helped by the fact that their flight stewardess uniforms consisted of light blue stewardess caps, white gloves, thigh-high white silk stockings, heels, and nothing in between. Above their sexes, each had a small square of neatly trimmed fur, letting Jones know the carpets definitely matched the drapes. Thin metal collars circled the trio’s throats, hung with winged tags bearing Mike’s initials, confirming Jones’ suspicion about whose plane he was on.
“Good evening Gentleman. I am Slave Stacy, these are my assistants, Slave Ginger and Slave Karen…” the blonde stewardess addressed the men from the front of the cabin, pointing to her redheaded companion and dark-haired companion in turn as she introduced them. Slave Stacy then launched into the standard flight safety instructions while her two companions demonstrated, going through the usual explanation of emergency exits and improvised flotation devices, though Jones didn’t think he’d ever paid attention to the safety instructions the way he had with these three. His spirits rose as Stacy finished, adding, “After takeoff, the three of us will be available in the cabin for ‘any’ services you may require.” The emphasis she added to ‘any’ leaving no question in Jones’ mind if their attire hadn’t clued him in already.
To his disappointment, though, at that moment the captain, a woman from the sound of the voice, chimed over the intercom to say they were ready for takeoff. The stewardesses buckled themselves into their chairs, with straps far more restrictive than the single belt holding Jones and his handler’s in their seats, as the airplane taxied onto the runaway and got ready to take off. “Be patient,” Jones thought, eyeing the three lustfully as the plane accelerated down the runaway. “Good things come to those who wait…”
Finally, when the pilot had announced the plane was at its cruising altitude, the three slaves unstrapped themselves. “Do you require any services, sir?” Slave Stacy said, kneeling in front of Jones’ seat. Ginger knelt beside her while Karen had moved to the back of the cabin and was fiddling in the bar/galley.
Jones glanced over at his handlers, wondering if they would want anything, but they remained as impassive as ever, though Jones figured they would have to be robots not to be eyeing the gorgeous, naked slave girls behind the reflective shades they wore. He shrugged, turning back to Slave Stacy.
“Well, your friend can go run and grab me a scotch.” Jones said, giving the redhead girl’s ass a playful swat as she rose to her feet and walked past him. Slave Ginger gave a theatrical giggle, wiggling her ass playfully before continuing toward the bar where Slave Karen was already at work preparing his drink.
“And meanwhile…” Jones reached down to unbuckle his belt. “You can get to work.” Like the other two, slave Stacy must have been well trained, she didn’t react as Jones pulled out his manhood. Instead, she merely smiled, coyly. “Would sir prefer I use my mouth…” she said, raising one gloved finger to her full, rouged lips, “…or my hands, or…” she stood, turning in place and bending over so Jones could examine her soft, pink slit and the small star of her anus. “My ass or my pussy?”
“I’m spoiled for choice.” Jones said, leeringly examining her. He reached out with one hand between her legs, his fingers teasing first her sex, and then her ass. She gave a soft squeal at the latter. “Your lovely ass it is.” Jones said with a grin. “Though I hope I’ll get a chance to try out some of the other options soon.”
“Very good choice, sir.” Slave Stacy said, straightening up. Without turning around, she stepped back, spreading her legs and slowly lowered herself onto Jones. She was, in Jones’ well experienced opinion, one of the best fucks he’d had, moving up and down and rocking her hips until Jones groaned with delight. Her own groans, he thought, were mostly theatrical, but if so, she was a good actress. By the time Jones’ scotch had arrived from the bar, Slave Stacy had brought him to climax.
“You’re drink, Sir.” Slave Ginger said, kneeling beside the seat, head bowed, holding up a small silver tray with a cut crystal glass filled with golden liquid and two large cubes of ice. She didn’t bat an eye as her fellow stewardess and slave slowly stood up off of Jones. Without prompting, Slave Stacy turned, kneeling, and lowered her head between his legs.
“While she’s occupied,” Jones told Slave Ginger. “Bring your friend over here.” He nodded toward the third stewardess. Hearing his order, she stepped around the bar and hurried over to Jones’ chair, kneeling beside the other slave, head bowed, hands tucked behind her back. “What is your desire sir?” She asked in a soft voice.
“The two of you make out with each other.” Jones said. The two had evidently gotten this request before because they did not hesitate, crawling over to one another, still on their knees, and embraced. Their lips locked, tongues sliding in and out of each other’s mouths while their hands roamed over each other’s breasts and stomachs and thighs. Jones enjoyed the show, helped along by Slave Stacy’s skilled tongue. He started giving instructions to the two, to pinch or suck each other’s nipples, slap their breasts and asses, to go down on each other…
In no time, Jones was hard again. He ordered Slave Ginger up off of Karen. She traded places with Stacey, who knelt beside Karen as Ginger straddled Jones’ lap. Karen lowering her head between the blonde’s legs while Stacy spanked her ass with her hands. Jones grinned, giving a loud groan of pleasure between pumps into the redhead sitting on his lap. “This is the only way to fly…”
Distracted as he was, Jones didn’t know how long the flight was. Several hours, he guessed, though for all he knew the plane might be flying in circles to disguise their destination. He didn’t care. With free booze and three gorgeous slave girls ready to do whatever he asked they could keep flying for days.
His handlers remained their usual, impassive selves, so in desperation for conversation, Jones asked the three stewardesses how they’d wound up on Mike’s private jet. In between servicing his dick and fetching him fresh drinks and snacks, they told him. All three were former stewardesses from major airlines. Between their skills and good looks, it was little wonder the Slaver’s Guild had targeted them for ‘recruitment.’ Slave Stacy and Slave Ginger had worked for the same company and aboard the same airplane. During a layover, they’d been tracked to their hotel by the local slavers, who broke in during the night. The two woke to chloroform-soaked rags in their faces. When they’d come to again later, they were hogtied, naked, in the back of the slavers’ van, on their way to a safehouse. After being broken and receiving training in sexual services from the Guild, the two were given to Mike as a bonus two years ago.
About a year later, Slave Karen had been grabbed. She’d taken a few days leave, to visit her boyfriend. Little did she know he’d gone into debt and, to cover what he owed, sold his girlfriend to the Guild for their usual ‘finder’s fee’. Three slavers were waiting at her apartment and grabbed her as she came in the door. Like the other two, she went through the slaver’s brutal training, having her will broken and reshaped into the obedient, submissive slave she was now and received training in how to best please her future owner sexually, alongside her previous training as a flight stewardess. She’d been put on the docket to be auctioned off, but before the next one was held, Mike decided he wanted a third stewardess for his plane and bought her from the company at the reserve price.
An hour or two later, Jones had just finished sampling all of their lovely asses and pussies and was considering whether he wanted a handy from Slave Stacy or a blowjob from Slave Ginger, when the pilot chimed in once again to let them know they were descending, in preparation for landing. In response to this, the three switched back from Sex Slave mode into Flight Stewardess mode. Giving Jones’ dick one last, long slurp, Slave Stacy straightened up, politely reminding Jones to return his seat and tray table back into their upright and locked positions. Her companions went through the cabin, clearing everything else up before strapping themselves in for a landing.
The landing was uneventful, the plane touching down gently and taxiing for a long while before coming to a final halt. Jones unbuckled his seatbelt and started to rise, but he noticed his two handlers remained in their seats, so he did as well. Jones was tempted to raise the window, see where he’d been brought, but thought better of it.
Meanwhile, the three stewardesses had unstrapped themselves as well. They’d gathered at the front of the cabin, kneeling with their heads bowed and arms folded behind their backs. A moment later, the door to the cockpit opened and the pilot and copilot stepped out. They were slaves like the stewardesses; a pretty brunette and an Asian. Much like the other three, their uniforms consisted of a pilot’s peaked cap, slave collar, gloves, smart patent leather shoes and white socks with nothing else between.
“Thank you for flying Slaver Airlines.” The captain said, giving Jones a deep bow. “We hope you enjoyed your flight and will be joining us again soon.”
“I certainly hope so.” Jones replied, giving her a leering grin. The captain and copilot then turned and joined the three stewardesses, kneeling submissively with their hands behind their back, waiting.
What they were waiting for came a minute later. A muffled thud outside the plane told Jones a stepladder had been wheeled into place. A moment later, the hatch at the front opened and several people entered. The first was Mike, pudgy and balding as ever, dressed in a fine, dark suit, while behind him came two more stern faced men who might have come from the same mold as the two watching over Jones.
“Welcome Master.” The five slaves chorused together, bowing deeply, heads almost touching the floor of the plane, asses thrust into the air as Mike walked up to them.
“We won’t be needing the plane for a bit, stow them away.” Mike said. One of his companions nodded, peeling off to stand beside the slaves. They, meanwhile, rose to their feet. Impassively, the slaves turned and went to a hatch concealed in one wall of the plane. From inside, they produced several sets of leather harnesses, gags and hoods. Two of them secured the other three, strapping them in tightly and placing hoods over their heads, then one of them, the captain, strapped and hooded Slave Stacy, before she was secured by the slaver. He went down the line, clipping a long coffle leash to each of their collars.
Mike, meanwhile, had walked down to join Jones. “Well, enjoy the flight?” He asked, grinning.
“I need to fly with you more often.” Jones answered, shooting a smile of his own in reply.
“Pull this off, you’ll have enough money to buy your own damn jet and a crew of hot pussy to fly it for you.” Mike replied. He chuckled. “Then I’ll come bum a ride off you, drink your scotch and bang your stewardesses.”
“Speaking of which, what is this job?” Jones asked. He gave a theatrical sigh as Mike pulled out a blindfold identical to the one Jones had worn to the plane. “Come on. At least tell me what we’re doing. I doubt they’ll spill the beans to anyone.” He waved a hand to the coffle of hooded slaves who were slowly shuffling out of the hatch to wherever Mike kept them stored until their services were needed again. Not very long, Jones hoped.
“Alright…alright…” Mike said, “I suppose after all this you’ve got to be dying of curiosity. Now, I can’t tell you everything, not until we get to our base of operations. But…” He raised the blindfold once more.
Jones sighed but shrugged and took the blindfold. “But what?”
Mike grinned. “Tell me, have you ever wanted to kidnap a super heroine?”