When I heard the police announce they were investigating new leads in a missing persons case, I knew it was time for me to move on. I’d been living there on Beech street for almost six years at that point, most of them good to me, but as a wise man once said, you can’t get attached to things when you feel the heat is on.
All of my neighbors knew me by the name Gloria Micheal. It wasn’t my real name. They were also under the impression I worked as a claim’s adjuster for a big insurance company. That was also a lie. As a matter of fact, I work freelance, finding young ladies with certain, highly demanded qualities and placing them in new positions with my wealthy clients around the world. Of course, the young ladies are not given a choice about this, nor are they allowed to ever leave. In short, I’m what you might call a ‘white slaver.’
It’s a good career, all things considered. There’s always a huge demand for my ‘products’ and prices are high, tax free of course, enough that I usually only need to kidnap and sell three or four girls a year to keep up a lifestyle comparable to my fictitious persona’s occupation. At that rate, I can afford to take my time, investigating the girls I select, making sure they won’t be missed straight away and ensuring that, once they’ve been sold and shipped off to their new owners in a distant country there is nothing connecting them to me. Well usually. Sometimes, I make mistakes.
My last victim had been a Miss Polly Stewart, a 22-year old shop girl. Trim, blonde, good legs, a nice set of boobs and the sort of pretty, but innocent face combined to make her an attractive commodity in certain specialized markets. Sure enough, I hadn’t had her 24-hours when my sales agent, Steve, got in touch saying he’d arranged a buyer. Before another day had passed poor Miss Stewart was on her one way trip to the Middle East.
And that should have been that. Like all the other girls I’d taken over the years, her disappearance would eventually be noticed, looked into and finally given up; case unsolved. No one but myself and the unfortunate girl would ever know what had happened that night as she left the small boutique she worked at. For everyone else, it would be as if she just vanished. Should have been…
Instead, I’d made two mistakes. The boutique was going to be closed for the holiday weekend, which should have meant no one would notice Polly’s absence till the following Tuesday when she didn’t show up for work again. By then, she’d be on the other side of the world and the trail hopefully gone cold. What I hadn’t known was Miss Stewart had agreed to come in the next day to help her boss reorganize the place while they were closed to the public. And so it was on Saturday, while she was still trussed up in the old, abandoned house I’d been using for some of my abductions, when the young lady’s absence was noted by her boss, quite unlike the normally prompt, reliable girl and reported to the police.
That, in and of itself wouldn’t have been so bad, had I not made my second mistake. I knew the shop had a security camera covering the interior, but I didn’t realize it also saw a small slice of the parking lot through the glass doors, just enough to catch the spot where I’d jumped the unsuspecting young lady as she walked to her car and pressed a chloroform soaked rag over her mouth.
Fortunately, I’d been wearing a mask as a precaution, but height and build were more then enough to go on, especially if they managed to spot my visit two days before: reconnoitering the place and making sure it would be closed and, I thought, empty ahead of Polly’s kidnapping. And given the news of fresh leads in the case, they evidently had. I knew I needed to be gone before the police turned up on my door with a warrant.
For that, I needed money, a lot of it. Most everything here I’d be abandoning. I’d need to replace them wherever I wound up. I’d also need a new identity: driver’s license, social security, the works. And quality forgeries, the kind that can stand up to years of scrutiny don’t come cheap. And I wouldn’t have any money coming in for some time. At least not until I’d settled in, got the lay of the land, so to speak, rebuilt my network of contacts, agents and transporters and, of course, found some quality girls to sell.
Miss Stewart had, sure enough, fetched a good price. It was a start, but I knew I needed more, fast. I needed some more girls to sell. Fortunately, I knew where I could find them. They were living right on the same street as me. A number of my neighbors would be worth of a lot of money on the international market. I’d never considered taking any of them before. Too close to home, too likely to bring a lot of bad attention my way. But now that I was planning on disappearing anyway, they were just what I needed.
I picked out the ones to be abducted and set to work planning for the next day. The first step was getting in touch with Steve, my agent, and get him to arrange the sale of the ladies once I had them. He was surprised to hear back from me so soon after our last deal had concluded and even more so when I told him I’d be bringing in six more slaves the following evening. But given how quickly Miss Stewart had sold, he was confident he could find buyers for these ladies as well, and he had no issues offering an advance of $10,000 a head against their eventual sale price.
That taken care of, I readied the tools of my trade. This was a bit trickier. I’d disposed of a lot of the gear I’d used in Miss Stewart’s abduction once she was safely on her way abroad. Less chance of getting caught with it lying around and normally I would have had ample time to replace it before it was time to kidnap my next girl.
A quick trip to the hardware store got me a couple hundred feet of soft, strong nylon rope, which I cut into 20’ lengths, plus several rolls of duct tape. I raided my closet for materials I could use to gag them. A long, sharp knife from the kitchen would provide some incentive for my captives to cooperate. The rest I’d have to improvise. I spent the rest of the evening packing up what papers and keepsakes I’d be taking with me, and destroying anything I wasn’t but couldn’t risk leaving behind.
The next morning, the alarm I set woke me up a quarter before 6. Far too early, considering how late I’d been up the night before preparing, but I had no choice. My first two targets were early risers, and I’d need to get up early to, if I wanted to catch them before they left for work. So I downed some instant coffee and hurriedly put on a pair of running shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of sneakers and walked out the front door.
Mrs. Julia Moore lived two houses down from me. The 31-year old African American woman worked in Sales while her husband was an accountant. Health conscious and active, she kept her rather nice body fit and trim with daily morning jogs in between visits to the gym. As I walked up, spotting her standing in front of her house, I could confirm this easily enough, thanks to the sports bra and skin-tight leggings she was wearing. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back with a hairband, pressing a sharp, strikingly pretty face. I silently mused how her clear complexion and smooth, coffee-with-cream skin and a set of wide blue eyes would make her a very attractive item on the international slave market.
Julia, of course, suspected none of this, waving as I approached. She wasn’t surprised to see me coming. It was a custom in the neighborhood for any women jogging in the morning to stick together. A bit of safety in the winter when the mornings were dark and quiet, less so now with the sun already peeking over the rooftops. Though I didn’t jog regularly, I’d joined them often enough my presence wasn’t too out of the ordinary. Luckily, none of the other sporadic joggers picked this morning to come out, which might have made things trickier, and before Julia and I had chatted for more then a minute, Beech Street’s other regular jogger came trotting across the street from her house to join us.
Hannah Wong was a 26-year old graphic designer. Like Julia, she was very health conscious and athletic. She’d done soccer and track in high school and college and still kept up with it. And I was certain whoever eventually bought her would appreciate the work that she’d put into keeping that fit runner’s body. Like me, Hannah was dressed in a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt, but hers was cropped at the hem, leaving a couple inches gap showing a smooth toned midriff you could bounce a coin off of. Her long, black hair was tied in a bun to keep it out of the way while we jogged. Normally it hung below her shoulders.
Like Julia, Hannah didn’t regard my presence as being too out of the ordinary. After we’d waited another minute or so without anyone else showing up, the three of us turned and set out at a brisk jog. I soon found it hard to keep up. Though they weren’t trying to outrun me, both of my companions were younger and in great shape. I doggedly did my best to keep up, praying I wouldn’t wear myself out completely. That would make what came next very hard, to say the least. Still, at least my position at the back gave me a good chance to admire both of the young women’s trim, firm rears in their tight running shorts and leggings, gleefully imagining how they’d look up on the auction block and what it would mean to my eventual bank account.
By the time we’d reached the turning point of the morning jog and doubled back towards home, I was definitely sweaty and breathing a bit harder then the other two, who despite some light perspiration seemed like they’d hardly exerted themselves on our run, but I wasn’t so bad off I couldn’t proceed with things.
As we came back towards the neighborhood, I put on a little more speed to catch up with the other two. In as casual tone as I could manage, I told the other ladies I had something I wanted to show them, a surprise, and asked if they’d be willing to stop by my house briefly before they went back to their own homes to freshen up for work. Both had been over many times before, so neither thought the suggestion too odd or sketchy. If they had any lingering suspicions, the suggestion that I’d prepared a pitcher of mimosas to cool off after the run overcame any remaining reluctance and they both readily followed me into the house, little knowing how much they’d regret it.
Once inside, I had another bit of luck when Hannah asked if she could use the restroom to freshen up real quick. Pleased I’d only have to deal with them one at a time now, I pointed her in the direction of the downstairs bathroom, while leading Julia upstairs towards my bedroom where I had all my supplies: the lengths of rope, the gagging material, the tape, all neatly laid out and ready. I hurried ahead, making sure I got there first and grabbed the knife, moving to wait for my first victim of the day to come through the door.
Julia came into the room, taking a couple steps past the door before she noticed the rope and tape on the bed. Before she could fully process what that meant, I moved behind her, blocking off her escape back through the door. With the skill that comes from longer practice, I grabbed one of Julia’s free hands by the wrist.
In a flash, I had it twisted behind her back, pulling her closer to me, while my other hand brought the knife around to hold the blade to her throat. Julia was younger and fitter then me, and probably could have shaken me off without too much difficulty, but she’d been taken by surprise and was having trouble believing one of her neighbors: quiet, ordinary Gloria, had suddenly turned on her like this.
“Wha- what are you doing!?! What’s going on!?!” Julia sputtered in disbelief.
“Shut up!” I growled in the frightening tone I used with my captives, far far different from the mild voice I’d always spoken to my neighbors with. “Do what I say and you won’t get hurt!” I pressed the knife closer to her neck, enough she could feel how I’d sharpened it the night before.
“Move!” I barked, pushing her towards the bed. Eyes wide, face pale, Julia did as I said. “Lie down on the floor! On your belly!” Again, she complied. I’d managed to get my prisoner in a very important state of mind: where all she could think to do was obey her captor’s commands for fear of death. Had she had her wits about her, she might have realized, as I ordered her to place her hands behind her back, wrists crossed, that in order to grab a hank of rope from the bed and begin tying her hands, I’d have to set down the knife and that this would be the perfect time to try and escape or fight back. But in her present state of fear, all Julia did was lie still and let me finish tying her hands together, then start on her feet. Still, I knew this would only be a temporary window. Sooner or later, she’d recover from her initial shock or something would snap her out of it…
That came just a minute later when we both heard the sound of a toilet flushing downstairs. Suddenly reminded that Hannah was downstairs, Julia raised her head up, getting ready to shout a warning. Fortunately, I had anticipated just such a reaction from my captive and was a hair faster. Just as Julia had opened her mouth to scream, I stuffed the wad of cloth I’d grabbed between her teeth, cutting her off. Julia gagged as I forced the wadded up panties all the way in. Before she could spit them out, I grabbed the duct tape, tore off a strip and got it over the other woman’s lips, ensuring she’d be quiet for the next few, vital, minutes.
“We’re up here!” I called down to Hannah, in the old, milder tone they were familiar with. Beneath me, Julia grunted and moaned in frustration at being unable to warn her friend. As we heard Hannah’s footsteps coming up the stairs, I snatched up the knife and went back to the door. A moment later, Hannah came in.
Like Julia, Hannah first noticed the hanks of rope and tape on the bed and was confused. That confusion turned to fear when she spotted Julia lying on the floor by the bed, hands and feet tied, struggling frantically but fruitlessly. Julia grunted through the wadded cloth and tape gagging her, trying to warn Hannah but the other woman didn’t understand her. She stepped into the room, moving to help her friend. Before she’d gone further, though, I came up behind her and like Julia before, grabbed her by one wrist and placed the knife to her throat.
“Don’t make a sound!” I growled. Terrified, Hannah didn’t. She was cowed enough not to resist as I made her walk over and lie down beside Julia, then bound her hands and feet. She begged, briefly, not to be gagged when she saw the wad of panties in my hand but couldn’t stop me from stuffing her mouth with it and taping her lips shut.
I then took a moment to give both women a quick frisking. Both women had their phones on them, which I confiscated. I also found, in the pocket of Hannah’s running short a small bottle of pepper spray, the sort plenty of women carry when out running to ward off muggers or rapists. Why she’d carried it in our safe neighborhood I couldn’t say, though I found it amusing the one time she’d actually needed it, she’d completely forgotten all about it.
With both of them more or less restrained for the time being, I went about ensuring they would stay that way. Julia had almost managed to push back the single piece of tape across her lips and spit out the wadding. She groaned as I casually pushed the sodden underwear back in and smoothed the tape back in place. It was soon covered by half a dozen more, sealing the gag in. Then, for good measure I used a couple strips to blindfold her as well. Hannah gave me a pleading look but she got the same treatment.
I then turned to the women’s bonds. Both had been struggling hard since they’d been tied up without much success, but I needed to be sure they would stay that way. First order of business was to go back and check the existing rope work, tightening it up and making sure the knots were well out of reach of their searching fingers. Julia’s in particular needed some attention, as I had tied her in a hurry, trying to keep her out of the way while I dealt with Hannah.
That done, I grabbed some more rope and tied their knees and elbows next. This was followed by hogtying them, bending their shoulders and upper bodies back into the strict position and drawing muffled groans from the captives. Even as fit and flexible as the two were, they’d be feeling the strain of it as the day wore on, but I couldn’t risk either of them getting loose while I was working on collecting the rest of the women. Besides, I figured it would be a good introduction for them to their new lives as slaves.
Leaving the two to squirm in their strict bondage, I changed out of the exercise clothes and took a quick shower. When I came out again, wrapped in a towel, I was pleased to find my handiwork had done the job so far. Both of my captives were precisely where I had left them. Julia was still putting up a good struggle, without noticable progress, while Hannah had evidently come to the reasonable conclusion that escaping the strict hogtie would be next to impossible and had settled for the next best course of action: sobbing miserably through her gag.
I paid the two no further attention, heading over to the closet and quickly changing into my outfit for the day: a floral pattern blouse, blue jeans and boots. Stepping past the hogtied women, I left the room. Two captives down, four more to go…