With an audible ‘click’ and a quiet, high pitched squeak of the hinges, the lid of the car’s trunk swung open. Down in the bottom of the trunk, Samantha gave a grunt, muffled by the wadded up cloth filling her mouth and the multiple layers of tape sealing the gag in, as she was jerked awake by the sudden noise.
The young woman had been locked in the trunk, curly nearly into a ball by the tight confines, for the past seven or eight hours, ever since she had been grabbed by two men while walking to her car. For the first few hours of her captivity, Samantha had struggled for all she was worth, straining at the tape which encircled her wrists and ankles, legs and chest, in multiple tight, silver bands. The effects of her struggles were visible in the sweat drenching her brow, the tangle of her light brown hair, the disheveled state of her clothes...and the complete lack of any progress towards freeing herself.
Eventually, the uselessness of struggling, exhaustion from her overexertion and the unchanging nature of her prison: cut off from sight or sound beyond the low, steady hum of wheels on pavement, had forced her into an uneasy sleep...at least until her abductor’s car had arrived at their destination and the trunk was opened, startling her awake once more. With renewed consciousness came fear and confusion once more. The young woman wondered desperately why on earth she had been abducted, out of everyone else and, more importantly, what her captors planned to do with her.
“Get her out of there.” A low voice growled. To Samantha’s surprise, she didn’t recognize it as belonging to either of the men that had kidnapped her in the garage. Nor was the voice which answered affirmatively. That one, in fact, sounded feminine and rather young, in her early 20s or thereabouts.
“Come on…” The unseen girl addressed Samantha, placing a hand behind Samantha’s shoulder. “Up you get!” She helped the tightly bound woman sit up out of the trunk and then get her taped up legs over the side. It wasn’t easy. Samantha was stiff and sore from being kept curled up multiple hours. Every moment was accompanied with groans and whimpers, muffled to near imperceptibility by the wad of cloth taped inside her mouth. Whether they heard them or not, Samantha’s captors ignored her grunts of discomfort, focused on extracting her from the trunk as quickly as possible.
At some point during the trip, Samantha had lost her heels in her struggles. The other woman didn’t seem interested in retrieving the shoes from the trunk for her captive. As Samantha dropped down on shaky legs, she could feel cold concrete underfoot through the thin fabric of her pantyhose. She shivered, partly from the cold, partly from fear.
As Samantha stood there, turning her head this way and that, listening for sounds in the artificial darkness of her blindfold, she felt the other girl bend down. A knife, or something sharp, cut through the tape wrapping Samantha’s ankles. The tape was peeled off and whisked away, freeing her feet. The young woman waited as her captor straightened up, but the other woman made no move to undo the rest of Samantha’s bonds. As she realized she wasn’t going to be freed, Samantha let out a low, indignant grunt of frustration.
“Now now, none of that!” The other girl chided with a teasing giggle. “The rest is staying for the moment so you don’t go running off. Now come on!” Samantha felt a hand seize her upper right arm and pull sharply on it in one direction. The captive woman had no choice but to follow, stumbling awkwardly with her knees still taped.
Blinded by the tape over her eyes, Samantha found herself totally reliant on the other girl’s pull to guide her. They passed through what sounded, and smelled, like a large, open garage with multiple vehicles, eventually passing through a set of doors. The room beyond, judging from the echoing of their footsteps, was a long corridor with concrete floor, walls and ceiling.
As the two started down the hallway, they passed by others. The first few were singles or pairs with heavy booted tread like her handler. Men or women, she couldn’t tell, but they paid her and her guide no attention and said nothing as they passed. But the fourth pair they passed was different. One of the two unseen figures was clearly a woman and, from her muffled grunts and screams, clearly a captive like Samantha and an unhappy one at that. She fought against the man who dragged her along, much like Samantha’s handler guided her. As they passed, Samantha heard the man curse loudly, followed by the loud smack of an open hand on soft flesh and the sharp cry of pain from his poor captive. Samantha whimpered fearfully, sounds of the punishment echoing after them for some way.
Not long after, they passed another group of captives. Besides the handlers dragging them along, there was an older woman and two or three younger girls. The girls were sobbing. It sounded as though the woman was trying to calm them, but aside from the placating tone, whatever meaning her words had were garbled to meaninglessness by the gags they all wore. As Samantha shuffled past, she heard the group being separated: the older woman was dragged though one door while the girls were forced into another one further up the hallway, sobbing the whole way.
A dozen yards along, Samantha’s handler turned her to face another door which swung open on rusty hinges. On the other side was a large room with a high ceiling which echoed with the sounds of other captive women already within. There must have been a dozen at least, spread about the place. Some were trying to talk, either to beg and plead or to curse their captives vehemently. Others simply wept and moaned with terror. All were reduced to grunts and whimpers by gags though.
Samantha’s handler led her to a spot between two other women. “Do not move from this spot.” She warned, sharply. Then, at least so far as Samantha could tell, the other woman was gone, leaving her along with the other prisoners. Despite her captor’s order, Samantha considered running for it, well, hobbling for it anyway, but the fact she had no idea which way to run for it, and with her blindfold was more likely to run face first into a wall, kept the young woman where she was.
As she stood, trembling with fright, Samantha’s mind raced. Her own abduction had seemed odd enough, but now she found she was clearly in the clutches of some large and well organized group, one of dozens, possibly hundreds more captives women and girls. The implications of what that meant for her and her future chilled Samantha.
As she grappled with this horror, time slowly passed. Periodically, the door she had entered the chamber by opened again and again. Each time, one or more young women, gagged and presumably bound as well, were dragged in to join those captives already there. The room was soon filled with the gag-muffled sounds of feminine fear, confusion, anger and sorrow.
Then, about an hour after Samantha had arrived at this place, the door opened one final time. Instead of another fellow captive, a large group of kidnappers tramped in. The rhythmic stomping of their boots on the concrete floor cut through the din of the captives. Most fell silent, holding their breath and waiting for whatever was about to happen.
“Attention, ladies!” A man spoke in a sharp, authoritative tone which silenced the remaining sobs and grunts. “In just a moment, my associates will be going about to remove your bonds. You will remain where you are and will keep silent. Any who fail to obey will be taken away and sharply punished!”
As he said this, Samantha heard the other handlers start to spread about the room. The murmurs of the women increased. Once, Samantha heard a woman suddenly speak up as she was ungagged: “Oh god! Please! Please just let me go-Mmmppphhh!!!” Her words were cut off just as suddenly, as though a hand had been clamped over her mouth. Still grunting pleas through the reapplied gag, the hapless woman was dragged to the door and out of the room.
As the rest of the captives were untied, a couple others attempted to run or fight, Samantha couldn’t tell which since she was still blindfolded. Either way, their resistance was short lived. They were almost immediately overpowered and dragged off the same way the first woman had been. After that, none of the other captives dared move or talk as the handlers continued their work, moving down the rows of women.
About five minutes after they had started, Samantha felt a man grab her bound wrists. A blade was slipped under the hand of tape and cut through. The sticky tape was peeled away, freeing her hands. The man continued working methodically to remove the rest of the tape. Samantha’s gag was slowly peeled off and the wadding in her mouth removed. Samantha started to open her mouth, to ask the questions she was desperate to and terrified to have answered. At the last moment, she remembered their captor’s instructions, and the penalty the other woman had paid for forgetting it, and she clamped her mouth shut.
Finally, her blindfold was removed. Samantha blinked in the sudden light after several hours of enforced darkness. She was, as she’d guessed, in a large room of bare concrete, painted a dark gray which, with the naked light bulbs in metal wire cages, gave the place the look of a prison...or a dungeon. Aside from the door they had come in, there was another, identical one, on the opposite side of the room from it.
Samantha’s fellow captives, there were, she guessed, about three dozen, give or take, were all women and all, like her, in their early twenties. They were dressed in a variety of outfits, from business clothes like she wore, to casual street wear, pajamas, even swimsuits and underwear, which spoke of the variety of places and situations they’d been abducted from. About half were still in the process of being untied. Some were wrapped in tape as she had been. Others were tied with rope and had strips of cloth tied between their lips and across their eyes.
There was a good diversity among the captives in terms of skin tone and hair color, but two things they all had in common: their age and their beauty. Samantha had always, with some modesty, considered herself an attractive woman and knew without a doubt she was the hottest woman at the office she worked in, but among this group, she found herself middle of the pack at best. Some of the women here looked as though they could easily have been professional models or actresses, though their looks were marred at the moment by disheveled hair and clothes, reddened eyes from crying and looks of abject terror.
Their captors were a rather more mixed lot. About half a dozen men and women, ranging from early 20s to mid 40s, dressed in dark gray jumpsuits and heavy boots. Besides the utility knives which they employed freeing their captives, each had a bright yellow stun gun belted on one side and on the other a short leather whip with numerous wide, flat strands.
Their leader, at the front of the room, was a middle aged man, graying hair with a wide goatee over a worn, lined face. A pair of sunken gray-blue eyes looked out over the women without a shred of pity to be seen. Finally, once his fellow kidnappers had finished with the last young lady, he addressed the room once more.
“Now!” He barked, “It is very important for you to listen and take what you are about to hear to heart. Accepting it now will save you a good deal of pain and suffering…” He paused a moment for effect. “As of this moment, all of you are now the property of our organization! Here, you will be prepared, trained for your new lives and eventually sold to our customers around the world…”
At this point, he was again forced to pause, this time by the wails and moans that arose from his captive audience. Though she had already begun to suspect, the confirmation she had fallen into the hands of white slavers hit Samantha like a punch in the gut. She moaned in terror, thinking of her life, friends and family she would never see again, the career she would never have...and the new, awful life of bondage that awaited her.
A few women reacted more emphatically. A woman near the front of the room, shaking her head in disbelief, screamed “You can’t sell us! It’s monstrous!” A few more chimed in their agreement with her statement. A couple of girls, overwhelmed by terror, tried to make a run for it, not that there was anywhere for them to go. The doors were shut and there was, as far as Samantha could see, no means of opening them on this side.
In short order, the brief rebellion was subdued. Handlers waded into the women, seizing those who had spoke up while others chased down the couple who had tried to flee. All of them were dragged, struggling and screaming to the second door, which swung open to let them out and then closed once more. Slowly, silence returned as the remaining women looked at the lead slaver, breaths held in anticipation.
He gave them an evil smile before resuming his speech. “As you can see, resistance is futile. Sooner or later, you will submit. I advise you to forget about your old lives, forget about escape or rescue. All you need to focus on now is how best to obey.” Another pause and another wicked grin. “For starts, I want each of you to remove your clothing. All of it!”
This was met with more moans and wails from the women. One attempted to beg not to be stripped. Two slavers were immediately upon her, hustling the pleading woman from the room. With that for an example,many of the women started to slowly undress, weeping bitterly. The rest held out for a minute or two until, seeing the others disrobing started to strip as well.
Samantha’s cheeks flushed bright scarlet as she slipped off her jacket and began unbuttoning her blouse. Beneath, she wore a white lace-bra. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall, revealing a matching set of panties beneath her hose. She slowly peeled those off, delaying for as long as possible the moment when she would be forced to bare her most intimate parts to the gaze of the slavers. Finally though, she had no choice. Her bra was unclasps and slid down her arms, letting her perky round breasts bounce free. Her panties joined it and Samantha stood, red faced, trying unsuccessfully to cover her naked body with her hands.
By this time, most of the other women were in the same place, standing blushing and trying to preserve some shred of modesty. A few holdouts stood defiantly clothed, until they were hustled away leaving the remaining women completely naked. A couple slavers went around carrying large trash bags. At the other of their leader, each woman was forced to discard her clothing into the bags.
“Now you will be collared.” The leader told the captives. “Before you put the collar on, look at the number on it. Remember it. This is your name from now until your future owner deigns to give you a new one. Whatever name you had as a free woman is gone now. You will learn to answer to your number. Failure to respond will be seen as disobedience and punished!”
A slaver came by and handed Samantha a collar from a large plastic bin she carried. Samantha turned the cruel device over in her hands, looking at it in horror. It was made of polished steel, of two semi-circular pieces joined by a hinge. The free ends had a lock built into them, so that it would fasten as soon as it was closed. In the middle of each half was a rounded D-ring and, engraved beside it, a three digit number: 607.
Trembling slightly, Samantha raised the collar up, pressing one half-circle to the side of her neck and swung the other closed. The two ends meet, the tip of one sliding into the other where the locks engaged with an audible ‘click!’ As she lowered it, the collar hung loosely around her slender neck, not choking or squeezing her, but the steady pressure of the ring on the back of her neck and its noticeable weight pressing down on her shoulders told Samantha she wouldn’t be able to easily ignore it was there, a constant reminder of what she was now: a slave.
After all the other new slaves had collared themselves, their captors brought out more restraints. Samantha was forced to lock a pair of leg irons onto her ankles, joining them by a 2-foot chain. She struggled to wrap her lips around a large black rubber ballgag. The last piece of their bondage was a pair of handcuffs. Samantha closed one cuff around her left wrist, then placed both her hands behind her back. Working by feel, she slipped the other cuff around the right wrists and closed it till she heard a ‘click’, signaling her hands were now trapped behind her back, leaving her helpless.
The slaver came back, checking each woman’s restraints. Standing behind Samantha, the man grabbed the straps of her ballgag and yanked hard. The young woman gave a choked grunt as the ballgag was suddenly wrenched deep into her mouth. The tightened straps cut into the corners of her mouth. She choked back tears, jaws aching, as the man checked her shackles. These too proved to be not tight enough for the slaver. Samantha yelped into the gag, wincing as the cuffs around her wrists were tightened, the steel rings digging into her skin. The process was repeated with her ankle fetters.
“Your shackles and gag should always be this tight when you put them on, Slave 607!” The man growled. “If they are not properly fastened, you will be punished!” Tears welling up in her eyes from the pain, Samantha could only nod, frantically, until the man moved onto the next poor girl, tightening her cuffs and gag strap till she yelped. When all had been chained and gagged the slavers went down the line. Short chain leashes were clipped to the rings on either side of the collars, linking the slaves into three coffles. One at a time, they were dragged through the second door by two of the handlers.
Beyond was another corridor of the same gray concrete and bare bulbs. Spaced widely along with were more metal doors but now Samantha could see many of them had long glass windows alongside, giving a look into the rooms beyond the doors. The handlers led their charges past one such window, slowing to make sure each had a chance to see what was going on on the other side of the glass.
A dozen or so young women, all those who had been dragged off by the slavers for failing to submit and obey, were strung up in various positions around the room: some hung by their wrists, others upside down by their ankles, still more hogtied in midair or in stranger poses, forced into odd contortions by the tight ropes wrapping their soft, young bodies in crushing coils. All of the women had been stripped naked, in some cases they looked as though their clothes had been literally torn off, leaving tatters of cloth caught in the coils of rope.
A similar number of slavers went about, tormenting their victims with the short leather floggers they carried. The women writhed and squirmed, swinging from the ropes with each blow. They were not gagged and their mouths were open in screams which must have rocked the room they were in, but not a peep escaped through the concrete walls and thick glass pane. The message was not lost on Samantha and the other captives: disobey and you will suffer like these poor girls.
The coffle passed other windows as the continued along the corridor. Some appeared to be additional torture rooms where more women were being punished in cruel and inventive ways. In others, groups of women were being trained in different skills, many sexual in nature, bu the gray-jump-suited slavers. Most of the captives were, like Samantha and her group, women in their early 20s, but a couple or groups seemed composed of older women, though none much older then about 40 or so, more groups were made of girls in their late teens. But all were equally nude, collared, shackled and, save those being instructed in the art of cunnilingus, ballgagged.
Finally, Samantha’s coffle came to a room whose window showed no figures on the other side. The man at the front of the coffle punched a short code into a small keypad wired beside the door. There was a clock as a lock disengaged and the man swung the door inward. A tug on the coffle chain and the line of frightened women followed him in.
The handlers stood their charges in line, in the center of the room. The chains linking their collars together were removed, but all of the other restraints were left untouched, much to Samantha’s continued distress. For a long moment, the lead slaver paced, eyeing the line of naked, trembling slaves, his eyes darting between their naked bodies and their teary, frightened faces, watching him in awful anticipation. Finally, he stopped, arms folded behind his back and spoke in a commanding tone:
“Alright slaves, your training begins now!”