"Would you come in here at moment, Kathryn?" I heard the Master's voice coming through the open French windows and I got up and trotted over there.
"What is it, Master?" I said as I stepped inside and took off my sunglasses. To my horror, I saw my Master, kneeling on the floor, stripped naked and with ropes across his chest and stomach. Standing over him, holding a gun to his head, was Steve.
"Hello, Kat, remember me?" he said with that terrible smile. How could I forget him after all he had done to me in that shop, after all the times he had raped and beaten me?
"Steve, w-what are you doing here?" I stammered. Before he answered, he stuffed a ball gag into Master Robert's mouth and buckled the strap tight behind his head.
"I thought I'd look you up for old time's sake, Kat" he said as he pushed the Master down on his stomach on the floor, and I could see he had cuffed his wrists and ankles, with the cuffs entwined to form a hogtie. Ropes bound his arms tight to his body, further restricting his movement. Steve stepped over the prone form and came towards me, menacingly.
"That old fool Harman's been put away, I'm out of a job and a lot of money, and it seems we have your boyfriend here to thank.” He turned and aimed a kick at the Master, hitting him in the side, eliciting a groan from him.
"Please, Steve, don't hurt him!" I cried out instinctively. Steve gave me a curious look.
"So ... I was joking when I said 'boyfriend' but maybe I wasn't that far away.” He pushed Master Robert onto his side and swung his boot into his groin, bringing a grunt of pain.
"Please!" I said again, reaching out to try to pull him back.
"Interesting" he smiled, turning back to me and grabbing my arms in a vice-like grip.
"You have feelings for this creep, even though he bought you like a piece of meat? How cute! I wonder what you'd do to protect your lover boy?" He let me go and turned back to the Master, putting the gun to his head.
"I'll promise not to shoot him if you show me a good time, just like the old days, what do you say, Kat?" What could I say? I slowly nodded my head. He beamed a smile and sat down on the floor in front of the Master.
"Do me a little striptease then, like the slut you are – and make it sexy, for both of us.”
I didn't see that I had much choice, so I started to sway my hips and run my hands over my body in what I hoped was an erotic dance. I eased the straps of the bikini top down off my shoulders, then turned my back on them and unclipped it, before whirling it around my head and tossing it in Steve's direction.
I bent over low, my ass pointing in their direction, and slowly slipped the bikini bottoms off my buttocks and down my thighs. I let them drop to the floor, then turned to face them, my hands strategically placed to cover my nipples and pussy, and flicked the bikini bottoms towards Steve with my toes. I sashayed over to him, before sinking to my knees and putting my arms behind me.
"What do you want me to do now?" I asked huskily, feeling sick that I had been forced back to the situation I thought I had escaped months before. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans and boxers down, revealing his erection.
"Let's give lover boy here a show, as he has a ringside seat. Suck it, bitch!" Reluctantly, and after an apologetic glance towards my true Master, I bowed my head over Steve's groin and took his cock into my mouth. I did the best job I could, reckoning a satisfied psychopath may be a less dangerous psychopath. He certainly seemed to enjoy it, keeping up a running commentary, mainly to annoy Master Robert, I think.
"Oh, she's good, your girlfriend, she's so filthy! You like to suck my cock, don't you, slut? What do you think lover boy, you like watching your girlfriend taking it? Come on, Kat, ride me like a stallion!" He pushed my head away and made me straddle him and take him into my pussy, which I am ashamed to say was already hot and wet.
"Oh yes!" he continued, "She's such a slut, this girl! She's all ready to cum, aren't you, Kat? How's the view, lover? I bet she'd love it up the ass, don't you? Turn around, bitch, and give me that sweet ass of yours.” Going bright red, I did as I was told and felt him thrust into me hard and deep, making me screw up my face and squeal in discomfort. At last he climaxed, shooting his cum inside me and across my buttocks. He then made me lick his cock clean, before he put it away and pulled up his jeans.
"Time for us to go, Kat" Steve said, making me turn around and stare at him in confusion and alarm.
"Yeah, sorry about breaking up your little love nest here, but I've already lined up a buyer for you.” He smiled at the look of horror on my face and the sudden animation of Master Robert as he struggled vainly to break free.
"You didn't think I'd come all this way for a quick shag, did you?" he mocked, "Revenge is sweet but it doesn't pay the bills and, like I said, I'm severely out of pocket over you.”
He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the floor, forcing me onto my stomach and sitting astride me, pinning me down.
"Please, Steve" I begged as I felt him wrapping rope around my wrists and then elbows, "My Master has money, he'll buy me from you again" – I looked imploringly at Master Robert and saw him vigorously nodding his head and trying to echo my words to Steve – "if you just let us go!"
"Sorry, darling" he said, pulling the rope viciously tight, "The deal's already done.” He forced a ball gag into my mouth and strapped it in tight.
"You wouldn't want me to welch on a deal, would you? Now, say goodbye to lover boy, and we'll be on our way.”
I looked desperately into my Master's eyes and saw him trying to look reassuring and make reassuring noises, but then I felt myself grabbed by the hair and dragged to my feet and out of the room, out of his sight. I struggled frantically but there was nothing I could do as Steve manhandled me out of the door and down to the rather dilapidated car parked on the drive.
He opened the boot and forced me into it, lying face down on the filthy carpet. I felt my legs pulled up behind me and my ankles bound tight to my thighs, then he was winding some kind of tape across my face, covering the ball gag and my lips, wrapping it around and around my head until the whole of my face below my nose was encased under several layers.
But he kept on wrapping, now covering my eyes, ears and hair, until I could see nothing and hear only muffled sound. I heard the boot lid slam shut, followed by the engine starting and the car pulling away. I was being abducted yet again, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I don't know how long the journey took, all I could concentrate on was staying alive – my breathing was so restricted by all the tape over my face that I was constantly worried that my nostrils or airway might become blocked and suffocate me. This became even more critical when the car screeched to an abrupt halt and I was thrown forward on to my side, allowing saliva to run back into my throat. The car shot forward again and the nightmare continued.
Eventually the car stopped and I felt cool air across my body as the boot was opened.
"Get her out" I heard a voice – a female voice, I noted – say and felt my legs being untied, then several pairs of hands dragging me out of the car and holding me upright as I tried to make my legs work again.
"Take that tape off, I want to see if she's been damaged in transit" the same voice ordered. The tape was pulled off me, taking great clumps of hair and it felt like bits of skin with it. As I blinked my eyes open, I took in the scene in front of me.
I was in a dark and dirty alleyway, Steve's car behind me and a black limousine with smoked glass windows in front. Rain was teeming down, quickly plastering my hair against my face, dripping off my nose and my nipples, chilling my naked body to the bone.
In front of me, a tall, blonde woman dressed in police uniform was removing the tape from the lower half of my face, with not too much delicacy. The woman towered over me, and behind her were two more statuesque blondes, similarly attired in police uniform, and off to one side stood Steve, leering hungrily at the Amazons.
"Bring her to me", the same female voice said, and I realised it was coming from the back window of the car, which was open a crack. The woman pushed me over towards the car and I stood there, hunched against the rain bouncing off me, as I was inspected. I could see nothing of the mysterious occupant in the dark interior of the car, but clearly she could see me.
"Very good. Pay the man" the voice said, and the window closed. One of the blondes had a roll of banknotes and she peeled off a number of them, before handing them to Steve.
"Thank you, ladies, nice doing business with you", he said as he went back to his car.
"See you around, Kat. Oh, I don't suppose I will, will I?" he called over in my direction before getting into his car and driving off.
I was rather surprised when the limousine pulled away as well, as I had assumed I would be put into it. Instead, a large 'Black Maria' police van pulled out of the shadows and drew up alongside me. I was hustled to the back of the van, the doors opened and I was lifted bodily inside and the doors slammed shut.
Along either side of the van was a row of metal lockers stretching from floor to roof, with a door handle and large steel bolt on the front. There was a thin slit three-quarters of the way up the door, and in half a dozen of them I could see eyes looking back at me. I could hear the occupants struggling in their lockers, and there was the telltale sound of cries muffled by a gag as they stared at me, the new arrival, with frightened eyes.
As I took in this scene the woman who had lifted me into the van, also dressed as a police woman, removed the ball gag I had been wearing and replaced it with a panel gag which covered the lower half of my face. It had a penis-shaped rubber phallus on the inside of it which filled my mouth and prevented any cries for help.
The ropes holding my arms behind my back were left in place and I was pushed backwards into one of the empty lockers, and I heard the bolts slammed into place. The woman sat on a seat at the front and banged on the wall behind her. The van lurched into motion. It was clear that I was not in police custody, they were not policewomen, and I was not the only one being abducted that night.
The van stopped several times over the next couple of hours and each time, the doors opened and another victim was loaded on board. All were young women and very pretty. They had clearly been snatched off the street, with some of them the worse for drink. They had been handcuffed by the women outside in the street and were quickly gagged once in the van and bundled into a free locker. When all the lockers were occupied, the other women got into the van and it sped off.
Eventually the van stopped and the locker door in front of me opened. I found myself dragged out into the midst of about a dozen other women, who were all still dressed in the clothes they had been wearing when they were picked up, but all were gagged and handcuffed.
Some of them were angry, shouting and struggling, others wailed in abject terror at the situation they found themselves in and were struggling to comprehend. They were an ethnically diverse group – four white girls, three Asian or Chinese women, five black women – but they were all young and pretty. I didn't struggle or shout or wail – I knew there was no point, and I watched and waited to see what would happen to us next.
We were pushed and prodded out of the van by the fake policewomen and found ourselves in a large warehouse, with harsh strip lighting overhead. We were led towards a large cage, where we were handed over to three more women, these ones dressed in normal street clothes.
One of them grabbed me and cut away the ropes binding my arms, but I had no opportunity to escape as she held me tight and another approached me with a spreader bar. She strapped the bar to my wrists and then attached the strap in the middle of it round my neck so that my arms were stretched out on either side of me at shoulder height.
I was led into the cage and forced to kneel on the floor while a chain was attached around my neck and locked to the bars beside me. They then left me to return to the other captives, who were staring wide-eyed at me.
Taking each woman in turn, they cut off their clothing, throwing it onto a growing pile, locked them into a spreader bar like mine, then marched them into the cage and chained them up. Soon we were all sitting on the cold concrete, looking helplessly at each other.
Our jailors padlocked the cage door, gathered up the pile of ruined clothes and discarded shoes, and walked away. When they got to the door, they switched off the lights and we were suddenly in the pitch dark. I heard the door slam shut and a key turn in the lock. I could see nothing and all I could hear was the wailing of the women around me.
We were left there alone for hours, with no food or water, no toilet breaks, no light. The smell started to become overpowering, and I have to admit I contributed to it. When the lights did come back on, it was blinding and I had to wait for my eyes to adjust.
When they did, I saw one of the guards standing just outside the cage with a hose. As she turned on the water and directed it at the women in the cage, there was the sound of muffled screaming as they tried to get away from the icy blast.
When she turned it on me, I turned my back, bent down and opened my legs – I knew she was trying to clean me and the quicker she succeeded, the sooner the jet would go elsewhere. I also tried to get as much water past the gag and into my mouth as I could – I didn't know when I might get another drink. Once we were all hosed down and the guard had sluiced away all the mess, she put the hose away and we were left dripping and shivering in the dark, with the only sound that of desperate sobs.
Several more hours passed before the lights came on again. This time a large door was rolled up and the Black Maria drove in. When it was unloaded, another dozen frightened young women cowered before the cage, looking in horror at us, the realisation dawning that this was what was going to happen to them as well. Once they had been processed, the cage was crowded, and the howls of protest and wails of despair became even louder as we were once more left alone and plunged into darkness.
The hosing down process was repeated some hours later and I believe I had been locked in there for around 48 hours when the pattern was broken. As I adjusted to the lights once more, I saw that two of the guards had unlocked the cage and come in.
They went over to a tall black girl and pulled her to her feet, before dragging her, struggling, out of the cage and away through another door. The remaining women looked frightened by this new development, with no idea what was going on.
I was philosophical – we were almost certainly going to be shipped off into slavery somewhere, and I needed to save what little energy I had left after two days of starvation for the trials I knew would lie ahead.
The guards came back after about ten minutes and took an oriental girl who screamed and struggled with all her might, but to absolutely no effect, other than to spook the other women even more. Another ten minutes went by and they returned, and this time they came for me.
I didn't fight as they led me away into a small bathroom, where one of the guards used a shower head and rough sponge to clean me up, then quickly rubbed me dry. She took my body measurements and noted them down on a piece of paper, along with my height and weight. She removed the gag but immediately replaced it with a ring gag. She then picked up a bottle of body oil and covered my entire body and face, until I was glistening.
Another door to the room opened and one of the tall blonde women who had been dressed as policewomen came in, but now she was dressed head to toe in shiny black latex. She led me out and into a much larger room set out with chairs in rows as if for some kind of presentation.
There was a small stage at the front of the chairs where the two women who had been 'processed' before me were standing, and I was led up onto the stage alongside them. The chain around my neck was locked to a ring on the wall behind me, holding me in place, so with no chance of escape, I looked around the room to try to understand what was going on.
There were several rows of chairs in front of me and, alongside us, a raised circular dais next to a speaker's podium. As more of the kidnapped women were dragged in and lined up alongside me, I guessed we were being prepared for a slave auction.
This guess seemed to be confirmed when the main doors of the room were opened and about forty or fifty men and women filed in. They each had a champagne glass and they were chatting in groups of two or three. They wandered over towards the stage and started discussing the women, pointing and making notes on what looked like a programme of the evening's items for sale.
I overheard various comments – "Good breasts", "Thighs are too large", "I like the small one, lot number five" – which reinforced my view that we were up for auction. This seemed to be dawning on the others, as the volume of their wails and begging cries for help increased. I felt desperately sorry for them – the experience of being held captive, bought and sold were not new to me, so I took the situation more calmly, knowing there was nothing I could do at this stage to change what was happening to me.
But for the others, they had been having a perfectly ordinary night out and now, here they were, stripped naked, imprisoned, being examined like zoo animals by soulless strangers with cruel eyes. No wonder they were screaming, crying and struggling uselessly to get free.
Several of the latex-clad women who had captured us circulated amongst the audience with trays, replacing empty champagne glasses with fresh ones. Some of the audience members stepped up on the stage and started to examine the merchandise in more detail, grabbing at the girls lined up, checking whether the breasts were real or silicone, how much fat was on the thighs, if there was any cellulite on the buttocks.
One woman came up to me and stared into my gaping mouth, and feeling around inside with her fingers, as if I were a horse. She then grabbed me and spread my pussy lips so she could examine my clitoris, though I've no idea what she was looking for.
When all the slaves were lined up on the stage and the audience had examined everyone and made their notes, they gradually made their way to the seats to wait for the start of proceedings. A well-dressed woman strode confidently to the speaker's podium and smiled out at the crowd. When she spoke, I realised she was the woman who had been in the limousine, overseeing my purchase from Steve.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen", she began, "Welcome to this evening's slave auction.” Those captured women who had not realised, or refused to believe, that they were now slaves to be sold, howled in despair.
"We have twenty lots for you, twenty beautiful young women, each one brought here against her will, captured on the streets of London in the last two days. They are not only untrained, raw material for you to work with, but they are hot – and I don't just mean their looks.” There was a murmur at this, not quite laughter, but acknowledgement of the double-entendre.
"We make no guarantee that the police are not already looking for these women", she continued, "Although I can guarantee that the police are not outside waiting to arrest you. So, let's get started.” A latex-clad woman walked to the end of the line and unhooked the chain holding the black woman who had been brought in first. She led her, crying and struggling, along the stage and pushed her up on to the dais, turning her to face the crowd of eager faces. She looked absolutely terrified.
"Lot number one, an African-American", the auctioneer announced, "Her vital statistics are 120 pounds, 5 feet 11 inches, 36DD - 25 - 36. Who will start me off at £1,000?" I deliberately didn't follow the bidding process, I didn't want to find myself comparing myself to the others based on what these horrible people bid for us. I tuned out, trying to ignore everything happening around me, trying to not think about what was going to happen to me.
The oriental girl was taken next and then it was my turn, 'Lot Number Three'. I tried to remain calm, and I wondered idly if this would increase or decrease my price, as it was in such contrast to the others, who were all bordering on hysterical. I closed my eyes and waited patiently until I heard the word "Sold!" I was led away from the stage to a back room, where the next stage of the process began.
There were a number of packing cases in the room – it didn't take a genius to guess there were twenty – and two were already packed up, with a label giving the lot number on the side. My ring gag was replaced by a hood which covered my head, buckling up the back and having only a couple of small air holes over my nostrils, so I could see nothing. An inflatable bladder was forced between my lips and pumped until my mouth was completely filled, cutting off all sounds. The bar holding my arms out was removed and I felt straps tightened around my body, pinning my arms to my body and binding my legs together. I was lifted up and put into one of the crates, which was then filled with polystyrene packing peanuts, preventing me from moving around inside. I felt the lid placed on the crate and heard the nails being hammered in place. I was done. I was having horrible flashbacks to my first ‘packing’.
I had to wait for all the other slaves to be auctioned, sold and packed away before anything else happened. Then I felt the crate being lifted, rolled away on a trolley, then lifted into some kind of vehicle. Finally I heard an engine kick into life and I was driven away.
It was only now that I started to panic. I was on my way to God knows what – I felt I had been lucky so far, I could have suffered far worse than I had with Master Robert – maybe that was what awaited me now. Perhaps I would be taken abroad, locked away in some godforsaken stinking brothel, forced to satisfy the sexual needs of sex tourists. Maybe I had been bought so I could be tortured and eventually killed by some bizarre sadistic freak. But that thought just reminded me of Master Robert.
When the vehicle stopped and the crate was lifted out, my heart started pounding as I waited to discover my fate. The lid was prized off and I was dragged out onto wet grass.
"You've cost me a fortune, you know, Kathryn.” My heart leapt as I heard those words but I didn't dare believe my ears. It wasn't until the hood had been removed and I was looking at his smiling face that I accepted that I was once more in the loving arms of Master Robert! Somehow he had tracked me down and bought me at the auction – I was 'safe', whatever that means.
“I guess the fact that I’ve now bought you twice must mean I love you,” he said, and held me tightly in his arms as I sobbed and thanked him over and over again. To the astonishment of both of us, I felt his rock-hard erection pressing against me! We didn’t waste it!
So now, at the end of my story, I am once again Master Robert's slave – it turns out we both love the dynamic. But I am also his wife! I finally finished my degree, and I even have a job – I work for a charity helping women who have been trafficked in the sex industry, an area in which I feel I have some expertise.
I guess you could say it turned out okay in the end
The End