Redemption 1

Johanna Müller blinked, but she could see nothing but blackness when she opened her eyes. She wanted to wipe them, and it told her two things: she no longer was restrained, and her arms still ached and felt numb.

At some point inside the stuffy box, tied to immobility, thoroughly gagged and tortured by a tight crotch rope, she had fainted, and the rest of the forced trip had felt like a terrible nightmare of which she had only been dimly aware. There had been stops, voices, and even some lights and hands grabbing her, but all that hadn’t really reached the mind of the completely exhausted woman.

Now, she had been freed from her restraints, allowing her to breathe freely, and to move, though Johanna felt as if even sitting up would be too much right now. She was lying on some cold stones, smooth but uneven, and the prison was completely dark. Johanna licked her lips that still felt parched, and her throat was like sandpaper. So, her attempt to call for help came out as a faint croak, and she stopped, trying to explore her prison by crawling.

There wasn’t much to discover: Johanna found she was inside a cell of maybe three by three yards, bare of any furniture, and with an iron grid in the floor. On one side, she could feel bars, telling her she was indeed in some old-fashioned prison cell. She tried to collect her strength to call when she heard a short humming. A moment later, a neon light flickered, illuminating her cell and the corridor leading to it. Johanna heard voices, and she could see the silhouettes of two men approaching her. One was carrying something that looked bulky, but Johanna now realized she no longer had her glasses, so, she couldn’t make out details.

»Wakey, Wakey!«, one of the men said with a strong accent, and his comrade pointed at Johanna with what looked like a gun. A second later, the water jet hit her. The pressure was hard enough to force her back against the wall, and the water was cold, so, when the rough shower stopped after some half a minute, Johanna spluttered and wheezed, though she also felt a bit refreshed.

The other man reached through the bars and placed a plastic bottle inside her cell, and Johanna crawled to it. With trembling fingers, she unscrewed it and drank greedily. Then, she looked up at her captors.

»You speak English?«

Johanna’s brain had reluctantly started to work again, and she could tell that the man was a Spaniard, or, more likely, a Portuguese, given she had been brought from the ship at Porto, and that, according to her still sore and aching body, not too much time had passed since then. Johanna doubted that he spoke German, and she only knew a few words in Spanish. So, she nodded, adding:

» Ou français si vous préférez!«

The man nodded. In English, he answered:

»Actually, my English is better! However, knowing French will perhaps make things easier for you!«

»E-Easier?«

The man chuckled.

»To communicate with your future Master, of course! I doubt that you speak Arabic, Johanna!«

The memory hit her like the water jet had. She, among three other girls, had been kidnapped by White Slavers, held in the ship’s load, to be brought from board in Porto. Johanna gulped. She oppressed the urge to scream, for she doubted that aside from the two men, anyone would have heard her.

Remembering she still was stark naked, she slung her arms around her knees. The man now placed a bag on the floor and rummaged through it.

»You must be hungry!«

He handed her two bananas and a small thermos flask that contained coffee.

»We prepared it with milk and sugar, but we will take care of your wishes if you like it otherwise!«

Johanna sipped from the coffee. She actually preferred it without sugar, but now, it helped her to regain some strength, and when she had drunk some, she also felt that she hadn’t eaten anything since her abduction some 24 hours before. So, she also ate the bananas, reflexively handing the peels to her captor who put them into a plastic bag. Then, he reached her another water bottle, together with a plastic mug, a toothbrush and toothpaste.

It felt a bit strange to clean her teeth whilst she was naked and was watched by the two men, but Johanna had been gagged almost nonstop during the past 40 hours, since Sato had held her captive in his room. And since her last gags had been first her own and later the panties of one of her kidnappers, cleaning her teeth felt good to her soul, too. So, she even gurgled with the water before handing the utensils back.

»Now, Johanna, as you may have noticed, there have been complications aboard the ship! Our – business partners got caught, and so, you are our only – piece of property!«

Johanna’s lips trembled. She felt relief that her fellow captives had escaped, and joy about the capture of her kidnappers. However, she was still a prisoner, and she had understood the implications of calling her »piece of property«. Again, there was the urge to jolt on the bars and scream. However, Johanna decided to play another card – perhaps the only ace she had in her non-existent sleeve.

»I am guessing that you are most interested in money, Mr.-«

»Oh, just call me ›Tiago‹! The silent guy beside me is Joao, by the way! And call me shallow, but this is all about the money, Honey!«

Johanna rose. She knew that this no longer allowed her to cover herself, though she shielded her breasts and pubic area with her arms. However, for this kind of negotiation, she wanted to look at Tiago’s eyes.

»I am actually Joanne von Gröbern!«

Since Tiago obviously didn’t read German detective novels, she added:

»I am an author – quite famous, at least in Germany! You may google it if you don’t believe me!«

Tiago seemed to wait for the pun.

»In other words, I have money! So, if you let me speak to my manager, I could take care you will get it, in exchange for you setting me free!«

The man turned to his comrade, obviously translating her offer into Portuguese. Then, he asked:

»How much?«

When she had started her writing career, Johanna had picked the first name of her stage name not only because it resembled her own, but as an homage to Joanne K. Rowling. Rumours had it the »Harry Potter« series had turned her into a billionaire, and Johanna knew that some others, like Stephen King or Ken Follet, also had become very rich. However, most of the money a successful book made went to the managers and companies, and though she had quite a reputation as a writer and could well live from her work, Johanna was far from such sums.

»200.000! Maybe even 250, if my manager convinces my publisher to add the upfront money for my next novel!«

Johanna forced herself to smile as Tiago scratched his head. She suddenly had to think of Sato, the man who had held her captive, but who had treated her with some strange respect and kindness. Sato would not have let her go simply for money – but he also would never have described her as »piece of property«.

»How long would it take your manager to get the money?«

Johanna quickly calculated: he would have to organize the sum in cash, and find a way to get it to Porto. However, she decided to be optimistic:

»Three days?«

Tiago once again scratched his head. Then, he shook it, his face expressing regret.

»As promising as it sounds, there are too many risks! Sure, your manager will inform the Police, and since our partners got caught, they are looking after you and us anyway! So, I am afraid we have to keep our heads low and follow our initial plan! However-«

He smiled when he saw the glimpse of hope on Johanna’s face.

»However, we will add the information to the list of your soft skills! It will sure raise your market value!«

Johanna offered to sell her small apartment and her car, adding considerably more money to the ransom, but she had to admit that Tiago was right when he pointed out this would take even more time to organize.

»Now, we have something lying ahead of us! Sure, you want to leave that cell for something more comfortable and also enjoy a less rough cleaning!«

»What if I don’t? What if I prefer to stay here – stowed away, like the ›piece of property‹ you see me?«

Reflexively, she had put her hands on her hips. Now, as Tiago and Joao let their eyes wander over her nude front, she regrated it, and, blushing, she once again shielded her assets.

»We can also take the photos here, plus add to the description that you are a defiant one! It may lower your market value – and for sure, it will attract a different kind of customers!«

Johanna felt abashed by the simple logic of his words. One of her former captors had explained to her that someone paying a large sum for her would be less likely to treat her badly. Tiago even became metaphorically:

»If you buy a Ferrari or a Rolls Royce, you take more are of it than of a Dacia!«

His smile became surprisingly friendly as he added:

»Heads up, Johanna! You are blonde, and you have big boobs! That’s what in your situation can be called values! Now, put this around your neck!«

From the bag, he took a leather collar, with a leash attached to it. Johanna felt too abashed to protest, and though it meant exposing her breasts and pubic mound once again, she put the collar around her neck. Then, she had to put on cuffs to her wrists and ankles that were connected by a short chain. With her hands in front of her, she could at least cover her middle. Tiago produced a small box that looked like a case for glasses.

»Some customers don’t like them, others love the combination of smart and beautiful! Anyway, do you want your glasses back?«

Johanna nodded. After all, if there was a chance of escaping, or alerting someone of her predicament, she sure didn’t want to miss it because she couldn’t see properly. Tiago opened the case, and she could see something white.

»They come at a cost, of course!«

He unwrapped the glasses, and when he used the white cloth to polish the lenses, she saw it was the pair of panties she had been gagged with before – not her own and worn by the other woman before.

»At least, they are smaller than mine!«, she thought with resignation and parted her lips as Tiago stuffed the garment into her mouth. Johanna retched, as the panties hadn’t lost their vile taste.

»If you spit those out, we will smash your glasses, and you will be whipped!«, Tiago said matter-of-factly and placed the glasses on her nose. Then, the cell door was opened, and he took the leash.

»Now, follow me! Don’t mind if you stagger, for Joao will take care you don’t hit the ground!«

***

The sky grew brighter, telling Sato that soon, the sun would rise. In broad daylight, he would have to be even more careful.

Once had had jumped from the railing of the »Mauretania II«, he had swum a bow, until he had reached a place where he could get out of the sea unseen. The activity had helped him to get rid of the alcohol in his veins, but he now was even more exhausted, and he knew that the next days would be demanding, both physically and psychologically.

Of course, he could have waited for the Portuguese Police to do their job: they also were after Johanna’s abductors, they had captured some of the criminals already, and they had access to resources and manpower Sato could only dream of.

And yet – it wasn’t just the fact that he didn’t want to sit around doing nothing. Sato was convinced that his search would add to the Police’s efforts, as he could take less conventional paths. However, he now was a man on the run whose clothes smelled from the brackish harbour water.

He looked at the two piles beside him. It was the contents of his pockets, and he had sorted them by what had survived his swimming trip. He still had his pocketknife, whilst his gun had stayed behind in his cabin. Whilst his phone had not survived the salty water, he still had the SIM card, and he also had 240 Euros in cash. Sato had also added his ID card, driver’s license and his credit card to the pile. He buried the other things and rose, trying to find out where exactly he was. He knew that he needed a better basis than his trenched clothes for his search for Johanna.

»Eh!«

Suddenly, a shadow jumped from the darkness and a second later, Sato looked at a young man, wielding a switchblade. He shouted something Sato didn’t understand, and the boy raised his knife.

»Money! Dinero! Quick!«

Sato wanted to make a move when two more guys appeared from the sides, grabbing his arms. He looked at the one with the knife.

»Do I look as if I have money?«

Obviously angry about his lack of fear, the boy held his knife to his nose. Even through the smell of his own clothes, Sato could smell the alcohol in the attacker’s breath. He sighed.

»It’s in my trousers! Right front pocket!«

The boy put the blade between his teeth and grinned wolfishly. Then, he approached and wanted to push his fingers into Sato’s pocket. The Japanese raised his knee, hitting his chin. It wasn’t too hard, but the surprised man cut himself with the knife, and he squirmed on the ground, pressing his hands over his bleeding lips.

Sato twisted his body and pulled with his arms, being able to free his left. He stumbled against the one still holding his other arm, and for a moment, their eyes met; then, Sato’s forehead hit his nose. Whilst he joined his accomplice in squirming with his hands in the face, number three ran away, followed by Sato. He was heading for three small mopeds parked nearby, and when he just swung his leg over the saddle of one of those, Sato kicked him into his exposed groin. His hands pressed between his legs, he squirmed on the ground, whimpering.

Sato took off his shirt whilst the other two stumbled closer, careful not to come too close. He allowed them a look at his muscles as he stretched his body; then, he pointed at the one whose nose he had broken. He was wearing a leather jacket.

»Give me your jacket!«

The young man, not more than a boy, obeyed, and Sato put it on. He had stepped back, in case they would try an attack, but obviously, they had lost their fighting spirit. That was a good thing, for Sato needed two more things.

»Phone!«, he ordered the one who had had the knife, and with one hand still pressing a dirty handkerchief on his lips, he handed his cell phone to the Japanese.

»Obrigado!«

He mounted one of the mopeds and started it. Only when he had already brought some 20 yards between himself and the three thugs, they started yelling and cursing behind him. A look in the rear mirror told him that they did not try to follow him.

Sato allowed himself a grin. These three petty criminals sure would not go to the Police, and his situation had improved, without him having to waste some of his precious cash money.

***

Melissa sat a bit stiff on the passenger seat of the Police car. The Sergeant was polite, and his English allowed a conversation, but a few hours before, he had seen her completely naked.

She had agreed in staying at Porto to testify against the kidnappers and to help the investigations. Captain Schmidt, secretly relieved that one of the witnesses of what had happened on his ship would leave, had promised her she would receive her salary, and he had equipped her with 2.000 Euro in cash, since she would need a hotel. So, Melissa had only packed a small suitcase before she had followed the Policeman to his car.

The Sergeant was phoning during the ride, obviously with a hotel, as she heard him spell her name once. Finally, he grinned.

»Hotel Enrico is expecting you! We will be there in ten minutes!«

He brought her to a rather small hotel, promising that by noon, one of his colleagues would pick her up. Once inside her room, Melissa sank onto the bed.

»I wonder how deep I will have to dive into the details during my testimony!«

She had been one of the girls the White Slavers had picked, and not only had they stripped her completely, they had also done – other things to get her into submission. Melissa shuddered, and she could almost feel the Martinet hit her breasts, or the vibrator brush over her-

»I hope they will end up in jail for a long time!«

Her greatest sorrows, however, circled around Johanna Müller. Not only because she still hadn’t been freed, but because she had known Johanna. They had even bonded over her suspicion against Martin Conradi, and perhaps, if this hadn’t distracted her from the vanishing of two more girls, she would have discovered the White Slavery ring earlier. Perhaps, Johanna would then be free, too.

Still pondering about that, exhaustion took its toll, and Melissa fell into a deep slumber.

***

The ship’s doctor had insisted on keeping Babette under surveillance for one night, though her ordeal of having spent hours naked, bound and gagged had not left physical scars. He had given her a tranquilizer, and so, she had dozed off and grumbled when there was a knock at her door, followed by one of the nurses entering.

»Miss Martens, your employer wants to talk to you! Mr. Conradi!«

Babette’s first reaction was to tell the nurse to send Conradi to hell. However, she knew that she couldn’t avoid this talk forever, and perhaps, it was better now than later.

She decided to play the victim card and stayed in bed, only raising the upper part a bit, so she could look at Conradi who now entered the room and took a seat on the only chair. The nurse told him he had ten minutes and left them alone.

»Miss Martens«, he began, and Babette frowned, for during their last meetings, he had always called her by her first name.

»Miss Martens, the Captain gave me a summary of what has happened, and I hope you’ll believe me that I have nothing to do with it!«

»You have everything to do with it!«, Babette wanted to shout. She had worked as Conradi’s secretary, even feigned to respond to his flirting, but in reality, she was on the payroll of the Financial Office that suspected Conradi of tax fraud. In her determination to find evidence, she had fallen for John, a young man working for an American called Davenport, a businessman who didn’t shy back from criminal acts. In the end, John had left her naked, bound and gagged, and had left with a folder documenting Conradi had hidden half a Billion from the Tax Office.

»According to what I heard, they tried to get Davenport and his henchmen at the airport, but it seems that he anticipated that and avoided flying off from Porto! Which leaves us in a stalemate!«

»Stalemate? Davenport has got what he came for!«

Conradi nodded with a bitter smile.

»I know, and it will cost me quite a sum to get the folder back, since I can’t take the official way! Anyway, I was referring to you and me!«

Babette stared at him, and Conradi rose.

»I have nothing to do with Davenport’s shenanigans – but you may accuse me of what Mr. Sato did to you when I started suspecting you! Also, you now know that there is evidence of me being a tax evader!«

She shuddered, wondering what his wife had told him. Sato had caught her photographing some of Conradi’s documents, and he had then restrained and gagged her. Then, however, Leonora Conradi had taken over – stripping and torturing her. When Conradi made a step in her direction, she reflexively shied back, and her eyes widened. Conradi laughed.

»I am not a killer, I am a businessman! So, I want to make an offer you can’t refuse!«

The offer was quite simple: Babette should leave the ship, together with a year’s salary as a compensation. In exchange, she should not try to accuse him or Leonora.

»The evidence is now on its way to America, and so, it would be your word against mine! Of course, you have the Financial Office behind you, but I think I still can afford a few lawyers who can cope with that! And if it ever comes to a trial, all the raunchy details will be known to the public! And I mean all of them!«

Before leaving her, John had called her naïve, but Babette understood quickly: even if she managed to get him accused of tax evading, the public would learn of her responding to his flirting, and her ending up seduced by a criminal.

»You are a creepy bastard!«

»Does that mean you are agreeing to my offer?«

»Do I have a choice?«

Conradi drew an envelope and placed it on the bed. It was surprisingly thin, and as if he had read her thoughts, Conradi explained:

»I will send the money on your account! This is just a small reminder that if you ever try to pee on my shoe, I am taking you down with me!«

He left her alone, and Babette opened the envelope. It contained a coloured copy of a photo, and she saw an image of her at 18. Her then boyfriend had taken photos of her – harmless stuff, but she was naked, and she was very well recognizable. And when it came to a trial, these pictures would find their way to the Yellow Press.

»Bastard!«, she thought. Then, she got up and called for the nurse, telling her she was feeling better and wanted to return to her cabin, so she could pack her things to leave the ship.

***

The corridor led to a yard, enclosed by a brick wall. Before leading her outside, Johanna had been allowed to use the toilet, alone, but still cuffed and leashed. The only light came from a small barred window, and so, she had oppressed the urge to spit out the panties and yell.

Now, she blinked at the bright sunlight. The sand under her feet felt warm, though it couldn’t be later than 8am. In one corner, she could see a small tower, and in it, she could see a man with a rifle. Then, her eyes fell on what stood in the centre: a brightly coloured inflatable pool, filled with water.

»Your choice, Johanna! Either, you be quiet and obedient, and you will be allowed to take out your gag and wash yourself. Or, you don’t behave, and we will wash you!«

He plucked the panties from her mouth and removed both the cuffs and the leash. Johanna massaged her neck and looked around, but could not see anything that looked like a potential escape. Tiago offered to take her glasses, and Johanna handed them to him. Then, she approached the pool.

Washing herself was embarrassing, as the two men (and most likely also their comrade in the tower) watched her soaping her body and hair, but though they looked closely, they didn’t touch her and also spared her lewd comments. Tiago finally told her to stand up and showered her with a watering can to remove the remnants of soap and shampoo, and when she stood there, dripping wet, he grinned.

»Just like the Birth of Venus!«

»So, you will be the angel who gets me a towel?«, Johanna replied. It turned out that she would get no towel at all and would have to dry in the air. Again, they didn’t touch her, but Tiago ordered her to put her hands behind her head, and the water had been cold enough to make her nipples hard and erect.

Once her skin was just a little damp, Tiago handed her a hairband, telling her to tie her hair to a ponytail. When she had done so, he took a smaller can and poured some oil over her body. Johanna sniffled, and she realized it was olive oil.

»Are they going to marinade me?«

It turned out to be rather a breading, for once she was covered with oil, she had to roll in the sand. She knew what they had in mind when she saw them grab curved metal objects that looked a bit like sickles.

She had to raise her arms, and now, the two men used the scrapers to remove the oil and sand from her skin. It felt refreshing, but also embarrassing. Joao behaved like a little child, chuckling when he scraped over her breasts, causing them to bob, and Tiago, though not really groping her, parted her buttocks to get the sand out of her cleft. Johanna blushed when she had to place one foot on a small footstool. Tiago scraped her leg, and she couldn’t help giggle a bit when he used a fine cloth to remove the sand from between her toes. With a grin, he grabbed her ankle and brushed over her sole, and Joao took the opportunity to grab her breasts to prevent her from slipping.

Once her other leg was done, too, Tiago thoroughly inspected her body and removed the last pieces of sand from her skin. When he brushed over her armpits, he felt that the first stubbles were showing, and he asked whether she wanted them to be shaved now or the next day.

»N-next day!«

The longer she could keep them from touching her even more, the bigger was the hope she would be rescued. Tiago shrugged and pointed at her thatch of pubic hair.

»Speaking of shaving-«

»No!«, Johanna spat. She knew that many women shave their pubic area, but she wasn’t one of them, and she definitely didn’t want it to be done by Tiago or Joao!

»Your choice, Johanna!«

Her relief was short-lived. Again, she had to put one foot onto the stool, and with a small comb, Tiago now removed the sand from her most intimate spots. Her breast heaved from her panting, and though she felt Joao stare at her boobs, she couldn’t help it.

Once this ordeal was over, Johanna had to open her hair and was given a brush, so she could take care of it. Joao disappeared, only to return with an old-fashioned scale with two pans dangling from a horizontal bar. He placed it on a small folding table and sat down behind it.

»Some say the dating market is like selling used cars! Well, the very special market you are offered at sure is! Of course, we could demand 10 Million for you, but then, the customers would simply go somewhere else! And like someone looking for a used car, they want to know every detail before they even consider making a bet!«

He put a box beside the scale, and when he opened it, Johanna could see it was filled with marbles. Tiago explained:

»We start at 100 Grand! For every positive aspect of yours, we add one marble to the right, each marble’s 10.000! For every negative aspect, we put one to the left! So, in the end, we will know what we can add – or reduce!«

Johanna felt too perplexed to even be embarrassed. Joao opened a laptop and after a few minutes, he said something in Portuguese. With a smile, Tiago translated:

»He just googled your alias, Joanne von Gröbern! Seems you are of local fame, but not famous enough to have your own Wikipedia article! Anyway, some of our customers love a good story, so, that’s one marble, plus a second one for your French skills!«

Johanna felt the urge to scream because of the sheer absurdity of the procedure. However, she also felt a wild, irrational hope grow within her: the more she was worth in the eyes of her captors, the more likely was it that the »customer« could not pay at once, thus raising her chances to be rescued before the transfer was done.

So, when Tiago started with stats that added marbles to the pan, she felt a slight relief. Her blonde hair added a marble, her blue eyes another.

»As I said, some like glasses, others don’t, so this is neutral! You are 5’7’’?«

Johanna nodded, and it was also marked »neutral«. He then stared at her face in a way that made her feel uncomfortable.

»You are 33, and don’t be offended, but you look it! So, your teenage days are long gone!«

A marble landed in the left pan. Tiago now stared at her breasts until Johanna blushed all over.

»What size are you?«

»36 D«, She breathed, unable to look at him. She heard a marble land in the right pan; Tiago then ordered her to get her elbows together behind her back. She had to do this exercise, and he watched closely as her breasts were thrust out and rose and fell.

»A little sag, but not too bad! Neutral!«

Forcing her to stand with her elbows touching, he then groped her waist, brushed over her tummy and finally felt her buttocks.

»Still slender, but could do some more exercise! Neutral! Her butt’s quite firm – neutral!«

»They really see nothing like a piece of meat in me!«

Her legs were also considered neutral, and then, the taxing of her body was over. Tiago picked one more marble and put it into the right pan, raising the price to 150.000.

»You are slightly ticklish – definitely a plus!«

The image of an old, drooling Oils Sheik tickling her soles whilst she was tied to his bed, naked and spread, haunted her, and her legs felt wobbly. Johanna sank to the ground, and Tiago raised his hand.

»Don’t be too disappointed, we are not done yet! There’s still the Triple S Quest!«

Johanna rose her head, looking puzzled, and Tiago grinned.

»The first S stands for ›Skills‹ – I will just check a list of things that are requested and you are maybe capable of! It’s just Q&A, though we might insist on prove if your answers sound unlikely to us. The second one stand for ›Sports‹, where we will do a few video clips, documenting your agility, stamina and stuff like that!«

Johanna gulped. She was sure that she would have to do these exercises in the nude, and the idea of getting filmed whilst she was hopping and running around made her shiver. She remembered that she could have avoided all this had she posed for the photos Sato had wanted to take from her. In comparison, this would have been a picknick!

After a short pause, to raise her anticipation, he added, again letting his eyes wander over her, and grinning like a Cheshire cat:

»The third S stands for ›Sex‹!«

***