Sandra Morgans was one of the most powerful people in the country. She’d started as just another intern at the global financial institution, but a combination of brilliance, ambition and ruthlessness had seen her rise to the highest levels of the company in only a few short years. It had also helped she was a drop dead, gorgeous thirty something blonde; tall, athletic, striding around the office in her superbly tailored business suits and skirts.
Some might whisper how much of a role that had played in her career advancement, and in precisely what ways, but only whispers and always with care who they whispered it to. Those who spoke bad about their boss soon found themselves not just out of a job, but hounded out of the financial world altogether, their careers ruined as an example to others Sandra Morgans was not to be crossed, even slightly.
Of course, such success breeds enemies, and there was no shortage of those she had stepped on during her climb up the long ladder. Early on, she had been extremely cautious, taking care to watch her enemies closely and her friends even closer. But after several years at the top, she had eventually let her vigilance slip. Powerful as she was, she felt that no one could seriously threaten her. As she found, to her great distress, she thought wrong…
In later years, Sandra would think back on the events of that night, replaying things over and over again. She’d given up trying to determine which of her enemies had been the engineer of her downfall. There were simply too many with reason to want her gone. She’d just never thought anyone of them would go this far to get rid of her.
In hindsight, it was all too easy to see how the late night conference call had been set up to keep her at the building long after everyone else had gone home, how innocuous computer problems had circumvented the security measures in the parking garage, how the abductors had been kept hiding there, until she came down, in a hurry to reach her car after the extra long meeting. There were a thousand things that, if she’d only done differently, would have changed her fate, but in that fateful moment, she knew none of it and stumbled blindly to her doom…
The first Sandra knew of the danger was as she walked to her car, reaching for her keys. The kidnappers had waited until she was passed, then slipped from their hiding spots, leaping upon the unsuspecting woman. Sandra was fit and had taken self defense classes, but her attackers were professionals and knew how to overcome such training. It took them just seconds to grab her, one grabbing her by her legs, lifting the startled Sandra up off the ground while another went for her torso, grabbing her arms and lifting as well. A third pulled a cloth sack over her head, disorienting her as she was plunged into darkness at the same time she was carried off. A ballgag forced into her mouth over the hood, muffling her cries for help. After that, struggle and squirm as she might, she had no chance of escaping them.
Thirty seconds after the initial attack, Sandra and her abductors were in their van, pulling casually out of the garage, passed the unsuspecting night watchman. Sandra was on her belly in the back, one of the men on top of her, keeping her pinned down, while the other two busied themselves tying ropes around her hands and feet, her chest and knees, and finally a tight hogtie. She fought the ropes until exhaustion, but they didn’t budge, while the van pulled further and further away from the office.
At the time, Sandra figured that, waiting at the end of this rough ride would be a shallow grave dug out in the woods, or perhaps a pier and some weights and chains and that would be it for her. As she was to discover, however, her unknown enemy had prepared a far worse fate for her. Several hours after her abduction, driving all the while, the van was finally brought to a halt. The hogtie was cut, along with the ropes on her ankles, but the rest of her bindings remained, as she was lifted out of the van and carried a short distance. She was set down on her feet, two of the men holding her in place while the third discussed something in low voices with another man.
They approached and Sandra was subjected to a brief, rough inspection. Her jacket and blouse were torn open, her bra cut open so rough hands could fondle and paw her bared breasts. Her skirt was torn down, her stockings and panties cut off so the same hands could run up her firm, toned thighs and grab at her snatch. Such treatment would become quite normal for her later, but at the time, she’d struggled and screamed into her gag angrily at this lewd violation of her body.
Finally, the ballgag was removed and the hood removed so the man could examine Sandra’s face. She got her first look of her surroundings and her captors then to. They were in a dark room, vaguely industrial though abandoned for some time. The abductors were dressed alike in dark fatigues and masks. The examiner, meanwhile, was an older man, with a cruel, lined face and dirty gray hair.
“Yes, I will take her. She will fetch a good price.” The man pronounced and shook hands with one of the abductors. He called and two more men came in, burly men in worn tank tops and cargo pants and likewise masked. They took Sandra from the other two abductors and began to take her away.
As she struggled uselessly in their strong grasp, Sandra first threatened, as she had countless employees and representatives of other businesses and governments. When that failed, she turned to bribery, offering them shares of the huge fortune she’d made in her advancement. The ballgag was shoved back into her mouth, sparing her the indignity of offering lewder bribes or begging. Meanwhile, he took a wad of bills from his pocket and began to count them out. Somehow, she found it in her to be appalled that less then a thousand dollars changed hands.
Still struggling, Sandra was dragged through the door her current captors had come from and into the next. This was a large warehouse floor, though modified to hold a much different cargo then whatever it had originally been built for. Spread across the large floor were dozens of cages, each a cell maybe five feet square and empty but for a rough cloth pallet and a steel bucket.
Every cage was occupied with a young woman or girl, some holding several. Like Sandra, they were all naked, bound and gagged in different ways. Some paced their cages, others sat or lay. Some struggled against their bonds, some sobbed brokenly, some seemed dazed, unable to believe what was happening to them, or where they were.
Sandra was dragged to an empty cage, the door unlocked and the captive woman forced inside. They closed and locked the door, trapping her inside. Sometime later, they returned, one of them with a camera. They went into the cage, the other man holding Sandra up so the first could snap photographs of her naked body, getting close ups of her breasts, her ass, her sex. Then she was left alone once more. For several days, she was visited infrequently, once or twice a day, to be fed and watered. Around her, the other captives in this makeshift dungeon changed, some being taken away, while new ones were brought in to replace them. Then, finally, it was her turn.
It was, as best she could tell, early in the morning when they came. She was on her pallet, trying to get some sleep when, without ceremony, two guards opened the door to her cage, came in, seized her, pulling her to her feet and dragged the startled captive out. She was led off the warehouse floor and into another part of the building complex. She was hosed down with water, cleaning off the dirt and grime she’d accumulated during her brief captivity. Her restraints were changed, leather sheathes trapping her arms and legs, while a full leather hood, with a built in plug gag, replaced the ballgag. Blinded by this, it wasn’t until she was picked up and set into the padded crate, she realized what was happening. She was being shipped away. By then of course, there was nothing she could do. She felt the prick of a needle, a rapid spreading numbness from the spot, overtaking her body as the knockout drugs they’d given her took hold and she slipped into unconsciousness.
She awoke while still in transit. For hours, she screamed and struggled in the dark confines, feeling the crate shake and rattle around her. Finally, it was opened and she was taken out. A short distance away, she was forced to her knees and her hood removed. Before her was a stern looking man in a well tailored suit. Though he looked more refined then the first man who had bought her, his inspection was no less rough and crude, lewdly groping and pawing at her naked body to see if she met his standards. As he did, he informed Sandra that he was her new master. He now owned her and her only purpose in life from then on would be to serve him, to fulfill his wishes and slake his lusts.
At the time, she could not accept that. She told him so, loudly. With a word, he had her once more silenced with a gag. Another word saw her dragged from the room to another, a torture room. There, over the next unending hours and days, she was systematically broken and remade, her will sapped away, her old identity stripped away and reformed into the obedient slave girl her master desired.
After that, she was taken and joined the rest of her master’s property in his harem, ready at all times to serve, however he wished, whether it was on her back or her knees, pleasuring him with her body, or suffering the lash and the cane, pleasuring him with her screams. Sometimes, when she was kneeling on the ground, to serve as her master’s footstool, or standing by his chair, ready at a moment’s notice to serve him refreshments from the tray she carried, she recalled her previous life of power and privilege and wondered what her past self would think, seeing her reduced as such, the property of this man who know held such power over her...