Penitence 15

Being a man of 44 years, Sato did not blame himself for retreating when being faced by half a dozen armed men whilst he only had a gun-shaped lighter. To do so under such circumstances wasn’t cowardly. The failure of his plan, however, was a different thing.

Of course, none of them had had the appearance of the new party on the agenda, but there had been problems before – why else had Gabriela suddenly been attacked from behind? Now, Babette and the Policewomen also were on the other side of the fence, and it was his fault.

He felt for his knife that, unlike the fake gun, was real. Sure, the blade would cut through his guts. Sato scoffed. According to Hollywood cliches, a Samurai who had failed would commit Seppuku, ritual suicide to do penitence for his failure. A Yakuza would perhaps cut his finger to do so. However, both were options after the failure was irreparable.

»If I die now, it will just take one worry of these guys!«

Keeping a distance of at least 100 yards, he could observe the area. They had removed his car and closed the door, and he could see two of the men positioned close to it whilst two others were patrolling along the fence. Each of them had a gun, and they looked as if they also were quite a match in hand to hand combat. Sato was a realist: he was a skilled Martial Art fighter, and he was sure that he was better than each of those men – but at least two of them was a different thing.

He imagined Johanna, tried to focus on her face and not her thrust out boobs and her pubic area. Had there been a glimpse of recognition in her eyes? Had she seen that he had come to at least try to rescue her?

»Now, what’s more important to me – Johanna or my pride?«

There still was one thing he could do. It stood against his warrior attitude, and it would perhaps cause him to never see Johanna again for a long time, maybe forever – but on the other hand, it could save her.

***

Johanna had recognized Sato, and it had affected her, but right now, there was little she could do about it. Ben and his men had escorted them inside the bungalow, and she was sitting in one of the deep leather armchairs one of the men had pushed her into. It could have been a convenient seat, but with the armbinder, she could not lean back, and she was all too aware of how much on a display her boobs were. At least, she could cross her legs to cover her middle a bit.

Kim was lying on the carpeted floor in front of her. A dolphin kick at one of the men had earned her a hogtie, and a piece of tape had been placed over her lips. In a twist sense of humour, the men had stopped Inga and Gabriela from fighting, but tied them face to face, forcing them to hug each other before they had zip-tied their wrists. Their ankles were tied, too, and they had also been gagged with tape. They stood beside the armchair, staring daggers at each other when they were not looking at Ben and his henchmen. One of these had his arms slung around Babette from behind. They had not bothered to tie her arms, but she still was naked and gagged, and the man more than once groped her breasts.

The only one unrestrained was Miranda who had been told to prepare a drink for Ben who had taken a seat in another armchair. When she had served it, he told her to kneel beside him, and, with two of his armed henchmen around, Miranda had obeyed.

Ben sipped from the Whiskey in his tumbler. Before he could talk, the door opened and another of his men entered. Over his shoulder, he was carrying some hogtied woman of which Johanna could only see the legs clad in a tight leggins.

»I found that one beside the house!«, he reported and dumped his load on the carpet, beside Kim. Johanna could see the woman was a brunette, and despite her taped lips, she recognized her.

»Melissa!«

There was no doubt – this was the security woman from the cruise ship – the woman who had shared captivity with her for a short time. And now, she also recognized the busty blonde in the henchman’s arms: this was the secretary of Conradi, the man she had helped to observe. Johanna didn’t remember her name, but she had been with Sato.

»Now, Miranda«, Ben began in a voice as if this was a casual conversation at a dinner party, »what is going on here – and where is Carmen?«

Miranda blinked. She knew Ben from his previous visits – a somehow shady man who ran some equally shady business in central Africa. Enrico Vega had rather tolerated than liked him, and it had always seemed as if he had been relieved when Ben had left, though the conversation had always been polite. Carmen had more or less inherited the acquaintance, though it had been her plan to offer Johanna to this man. An offer he had accepted, though he had barely looked at the trussed up blonde so far.

»W-we had some – issues! She’s – downstairs!«

Without haste, Ben finished his drink and rose. Now, he let his eyes wander over Johanna’s body, and a smile appeared on his face. It could have been charming if it had reached his eyes; so, it made her shiver and feel very naked and vulnerable.

»Johanna aka Joanne von Gröbern, I presume! I have to excuse, but it would be impolite if I would not pay my respect towards the Mistress of the house before I pay attention to you! Miranda, please, lead me – downstairs!«

Miranda rose and Ben followed her to the stairs. They entered the torture chamber, and once he had recognized what it was, the man laughed.

»So, this is the secret of the woman who does all this charity work!«

His amusement grew as Miranda approached the Iron Maiden, and though she was still fearful about what the man would do to her, she also felt a little glee as she opened the lock. Whenever Ben had been at the mansion, it had been obvious that he had been keen to know how Carmen looked under her clothes – and now, this wish would be granted.

The door swung open, and for a few moments, Ben just admired the sight of Carmen, stark naked and restrained by more than a dozen straps. With her sporting the harness gag, and with the thong pulled over her head, he could only see her eyes, big as saucers and staring at him as her chest heaved under his gaze whilst her cheeks reddened from embarrassment.

»Issues, hm?«, he finally asked Miranda without taking his eyes from Carmen who now tried to say something through her gag. Miranda asked:

»You want me to release her – Sir?«

Ben absent-mindedly brushed over the spikes in the inside of the door, suddenly chuckling as he pushed harder on one of them.

»Rubber! I must say, they look quite convincing!«

His eyes wandered over Carmen’s breasts and down to her shaved pubic mound.

»I always wondered whether you are a natural blonde – and now, it seems I will have to wait for a couple of days before I get an answer!«

Carmen writhed in her bonds and mewed as he brushed over her bald middle. Then, as if he suddenly remembered Miranda’s presence, he said:

»I think she’s stowed well just like she is now! Please, close the door!«

Miranda obeyed, and Carmen’s muffled scream was cut off as the door fell shut. Ben looked at the different contraptions inside the room, and he decided:

»Now that I am here, I can also learn something new! Let’s get the other girls down here, so I can see how some of these apparatuses work!«

***

In a town like Ferrol, with some 50.000 inhabitants and located by the sea, the sight of a foreigner wasn’t unusual, even at the Police Department. In the most cases, they reported their passports or wallets stolen, and the Asian now stepping inside really looked as if he had fallen among muggers. He was covered with dust and some dirt, and he had what looked like a bad scratch on his left arm.

Sergente Antonio Delgado rose from his chair and asked the men in English whether he could help him. The Asian bowed and replied:

»I am sure you can, Officer! Could you tell me who is responsible for big crime in here? I mean, kidnapping and human trafficking?«

Delgado’s jaw dropped. He was used to foreigners exaggerating, turning the theft of their wallet into armed robbery, but this was new. The man looked neither drunk nor on drugs, and it also didn’t seem that he was joking.

»What happened, Sir?«

»Well, I want to report a case of human trafficking, in combination with White Slavery, also kidnapping and deprivation of liberty in several cases! More once I am speaking to your superior!«

Delgado’s English was sufficient for his daily business, but now, he only understood half of what the man said, and so, he decided to indeed call for the vice Police Chief – at least, the man spoke fluent English, and Delgado thought that Inspector Criminal Alvarez could do something else than kissing the Chief’s ass for a change.

Alvarez was not happy about the interruption, but he told the man to sit down.

»Now, Mr.-«

»Sato, Ataru!«

The Policeman frowned. Somehow, the name rang a bell. Sato straightened and looked at the man’s eyes:

»I want to report at least one case of human trafficking, in combination with-«

He gave a quick report of the events since Johanna’s abduction, leaving out some of the details, especially downplaying his role in the whole affair. Alvarez just shook his head and chuckled.

»Mr. Sato, you must be kidding me! Senora Vega is a respected member of our society – and I will not allow she get’s harmed by whatever prank you are pulling here!«

It was a reaction Sato had anticipated on his three miles walk towards the Police Department. However, he had one more ace in his sleeve:

»I understand that you don’t believe some random foreigner! However, you maybe will believe your colleagues from South the border! Please, phone the Police in Porto – give them my name, and that of Johanna Müller, aka Joanne von Gröbern!«

The intensity of Sato’s look made Alvarez feel for the drawer in which he kept his gun. Again, he was sure that he had heard the name of the woman before, and so, just to get the man out of his office, he told his secretary to get him a connection to Porto. Sato could not follow the conversation, was not even sure whether they spoke Spanish or Portuguese – but he could read Alvarez’s face. By the end of the call, the Inspector stared at him as if he was a rabbit that had suddenly produced long claws and venomous teeth. He rummaged through his drawer and pointed a gun at Sato.

»You! They have a search warrant for you in Porto, for-«

»I know what I did, and if you have to arrest me, so be it! However, what did they say about Johanna Müller?«

Alvarez panted. If his colleague had told him the truth, this man was a real criminal who was also searched for kidnapping. The fax had arrived the day before, and now, he could also remember the phantom drawing of the Japanese. He rang for enforcement and until two Policewomen had entered the room, he aimed at Sato who again asked him about Johanna.

»They know she was kidnapped via helicopter! And I can tell you it was a red and yellow one – like the one Carmen Vega possesses!«

Sato noticed that the Inspector was holding his gun rather loosely, and the two Policemen hadn’t drawn theirs. In a quick move, he plucked it from Alvarez’ hand and jumped to the wall, so he had his back covered. The three men froze in their motion and stared at him.

»Senor Alvarez – does Carmen Vega own a red and yellow helicopter with the coat of arms of Ferrol on it, yes or no?«

»Yes«, the Inspector admitted reluctantly whilst he exchanged looks with his men. The door was ajar, and any moment, someone would notice their misery – but none of them wanted to get shot in the progress.

»And did your colleague say anything that leads to this town, especially to Carmen Vega?«

Alvarez suddenly remembered another detail of what the colleague from Porto had told him: one of the men they had arrested had told them that Johanna Müller had been bought by a man under the nickname »Caudillo« – and Carmen Vega, or rather her late husband, had a relation to the dictator. Sato noticed he was hesitating and added:

»If I stop resisting arrest – will you promise to send some men to the mansion?«

»What the fu- yes, I will!«

Quickly, Sato changed the gun into his left and reached out with his right.

»You promise? A word from a man of honour, given in front of two honourable witnesses?«

»I am losing my job!«

He shook Sato’s hand, and the Japanese bowed slightly.

»Muchas gracias, Senor Alvarez! Oh, and one last thing! Tell your men to wear protective vests, the men there are all armed!«

He grabbed the gun by its barrel and handed it to the abashed Inspector. Then, he focussed the two Policemen:

»Now, you can get me to your arrest cell!«

They grabbed his arms and escorted him; obviously, none of them was carrying handcuffs with him. At the cell, they remembered taking his jacket and one of them felt for his pockets and emptied them.

»What looks like a gun is just a lighter! Just do your best to free Johanna and the other girls!«

He was pushed inside the cell, and when the door closed behind him, Sato sighed deeply. He had tried to avoid this, tried to free Johanna herself for too long – and all it had gotten him was that three more girls were taken captive now.

»I am afraid I will have to stay here for some time! Well, if Johanna get’s out of this well and alive, I will happily accept my penitence!«

***

At the mansion, Ben had given a few orders to his henchmen:

»If this Asian guy is still somewhere around, he won’t get very far when he is alone! However, if he gets reinforcement, I don’t want to get surprised!«

So, two men positioned themselves on the bungalow’s roof whilst a third took a seat behind the surveillance monitors. The other three helped to carry the captives downstairs and followed Ben’s orders in restraining them.

Babette, still naked and gagged, was shackled to the Andreas’s Cross, and both Kim and Melissa, who were hogtied, were positioned on the Spanish Horse, face to face, and tied not only to the rocking horse, but also to each other, so their breasts were pressed against each other. They tried to balance out their position, a task not so easy, given the difference in height and size.

Two men had carried Gabriela and Inga who still were combined in their involuntary embrace, and they were simply made to kneel face to face, a chain around each girl’s neck fixing them to the ceiling. Finally, Johanna was made to sit on a chair, her ankles tied to the rear legs so she could not keep her legs closed. Miranda, the only one still unrestrained, had to sit down on the Tiger Bench, but instead of tying her to it, Ben said something in French to one of his men who left, only to reappear with the Whiskey and two glasses. Ben filled both of them and handed one to Miranda.

»Now, tell me what has happened since Carmen and I last spoke three days ago – tell me freely, or I will have to see how well these devices her work!«

With trembling fingers, Miranda brought the glass to her lips and took a weary sip. She tried to think of what she could tell the man. Ben already knew that they had overpowered Carmen, and she wondered why Ben hadn’t ordered to set her free yet.

She saw the three henchmen, one of them leaning by the door, the others watching them closely. There was no escape, and so, she decided to tell Ben everything: Carmen’s plan to take revenge on Johanna, the strange offer of the Japanese man, and their own plan to leave Carmen’s services. The only thing she left out was the millions transferred to her, Inga’s and Kim’s account. Ben drank from his Whiskey and chuckled.

»Wow, that’s some kind of a story! I just wanted to visit an old friend; then, I get offered something nice as a gift-«

He looked at Johanna who sat opposite to him and who felt her cheeks redden as he stared directly between her legs.

»And now, anarchy has broken out, with shootings and everything! And I am currently working in the Central African Republic, so I know a thing or two about instable states!«

His smile changed, and it seemed that he was staring at something far away.

»In fact, I am partially responsible for both some of the stability and instability in that poor country! Living in a failed state teaches a man valuable lessons! Like doing whatever is necessary to stay on top and get out not only unharmed, but with a nice profit!«

Just to do something with her hands, Miranda drank some of her Whiskey. She felt that Ben was getting to something that involved the people inside this room, including her and Carmen.

So far, she only knew that Ben’s real name was Benjamin Keane, and he originally was from South Africa, but had his fingers in business all over the Black Continent, especially in the diamond trade. It was legal, but she had heard a few stories about how the precious stones were brought to the market – the term »blood diamonds« didn’t come out of nowhere!

Given his expensive clothes and the two Audis he and his entourage had arrived with, Ben had so far managed to get his nice profit. He was about 50, and though his hair was grey, he could not be called unattractive.

»Now, Miranda, another lesson Africa has told me is: if you are offered something on a silver tray, take it, and defend it!«

Again, he let his eyes wander over Johanna, and Miranda felt a glimpse of hope. If he and his men would leave, taking Johanna and maybe the blonde tied to the Andreas’ Cross with them, it would not be a happy end, but one she could live with. Then, however, she felt a shiver run down her spine: what if Ben had no scruples in getting rid of witnesses?

»You sure know that my main business is diamonds! However, I think I am quite good in taxing other – precious, too!«

He rose and approached Johanna, brushing over her cheek until the gag mask stopped him.

»Carmen sent me a few pictures, but I prefer trusting my own eyes – and hands!«

He caressed her hair, letting a few tresses run through his fingers.

»These golden locks – quite rare at where I am working right now!«

Johanna let out a fluttering breath. In the world of this man, »rare« was synonymous to »precious« – and she was afraid of what he had in mind once he had taxed her value!

»The same applies to your blue eyes!«

He lifted her glasses, and Johanna had to force herself not to blink too nervously. When he had put the glasses back onto her nose, he continued the inspection:

»Fair skin – and here, we have something you can get in Africa, too, but what is for sure something to be appreciated!«

Surprisingly firmly, he started kneading her thrust out boobs, and Johanna mewed and shook her head. Ben continued the rough massage for some two minutes before he asked:

»What are you, a 36C?«

When Johanna hesitated, he pinched her nipples, causing her to wail through the two pairs of panties in her mouth.

»I asked you a question, Johanna! Are you a 36C?

With tears in her eyes, and still feeling the painful tingle in her nipples, Johanna shook her head, and Ben raised an eyebrow.

»A 36D then?«

Blushing all over, she nodded. Ben withdrew his hands from her breasts.

»Usually, I get these things right on the first guess, but these armbinders sometimes make things appear bigger than they are! But I believe you that you are a true 36D, all natural! Oh, and speaking of natural-«

His fingers raked through Johanna’s pubic hair. This time, he wasn’t rough, but she cringed from embarrassment.

»A natural blonde! Really, Carmen hasn’t promised me too much!«

He stepped over to Babette whose chest was heaving as he stared at her naked, exposed front. She still sported the rope harness, now a bit loose, and he grabbed it, pulling on it so the ropes bisected her crotch and Babette moaned.

»You want this off?«

Babette just stared at him with widened eyes, and Ben pulled a bit harder on the ropes. For a moment, she feared he would now try whether he could tear the ropes apart, but Ben just ordered one of his men to cut them. Then, he examined his prey, estimating her blonde hair and blue eyes, too.

»In addition, you are younger than Johanna – younger and crispier! There’s hardly any sag in your boobies!«

He cupped her breasts, and Babette endured it as he fondled her. He was rough, but not especially rude, and when he guessed she was a 34D, she nodded.

»As I said, under normal conditions, I am quite good at guessing!«

Babette whimpered when he cupped her pubic mound, his thumb brushing over her shaved middle, causing a faint scratching sound.

»I guess, in two or three days, you no longer can hide whether you are a natural blonde!«

He stepped over to the Iron Maiden and opened the door, looking at carmen for a long time without saying a word, ignoring her muffled grunts and squeals.

»In your case, dear Carmen, I don’t need to look closer, for we have seen before! I know that you have nice blonde hair, in the colour of honey, and your grey eyes resemble some of the diamonds I am currently digging for! Other things, however, I am seeing for the first time now! After all, you were Enrico’s wife, and I have always respected that!«

Carmen stared daggers at him as he placed his hands on her breasts. In her case, he was gentle, and he even closed his eyes as he kneaded them.

»I think this strap holding your head prevents you from nodding, and your gag does not allow you to answer either! So, let’s agree upon a code: one ›Mph!‹ means ›Yes!‹, two means ›No!‹. Okay?«

When Carmen remained silent, he pinched her nipples.

»I asked you a question! Did you get me?«

If looks could have killed, Ben wouldn’t have survived the next second; however, Carmen managed to utter a single ›Mph!‹. Ben smiled and continued to massage her breasts as he deliberately guessed her breast size wrong repeatedly before he finally asked her whether she was a 34C.

»Mph!«

»And also a natural bald, so to say!«

He cupped her freshly shaved pubic mound and Carmen’s squeals of protest only seemed to spur his lust. Ben withdrew finally, closing the door again, and to Miranda’s dismay, he held his fingers under her nose.

»Don’t behave as if you are embarrassed – I know you know her fragrance all too well! Once, after one drink too many, Enrico told me about your little – menage a trois!«

Though this hardly came as a surprise, Miranda felt her cheeks redden, and she lowered her head. Ben took a sip from his glass.

»Today, when Fortuna loaded the silver tray she wanted to offer me, she really was in a good mood – for there is even a fourth blonde in our midst!«

Inga, who so far had, like Gabriela, knelt motionless, trying to keep their bodies rubbing against each other to a minimum, looked at the man who now gave orders to two of his henchmen, speaking French very fast and in a strange dialect. One of them, a tall blonde, drew his gun and aimed at the girls’ heads, showing a cold grin.

»No false move!«, he ordered in English, showing a strong French accent. His comrade, an equally tall, but more muscular Black, produced a knife and cut both their wrist ties, pushing inga aside. With a zip tie, he tied Gabriela’s wrists behind her back and used another one to connect it to her ankles, so she had to remain in her kneeling position.

Inga had ripped the tape from her lips, and when the Black had cut her ankle tie, she came to her feet. Her chest was heaving from oppressed rage, but when ben handed her the Whiskey bottle, she took it and drank. With a look of sheer contempt, she then dropped the bottle that shattered on the tiles. Ben shook his head.

»How clumsy you are! Luckily, Miranda already wears the right outfit, and she sure knows where the cleaning utensils are!«

The blonde henchman escorted Miranda to get a broom, dustpan and a bucket, and Ben looked at the Swede.

»If you don’t want me to call you ›Clumsy‹, you can start by telling me your name!«

Inga hesitated, but with a gun pointing at her, she saw no point in dodging that harmless question.

»Inga!«, she spat, and Ben bowed mockingly.

»You are a tall woman, Inga! Will you tell me how tall exactly, or do I have to ask the boys to measure you?«

»5’11’’!«, Inga hissed with an angry glance. Ben smiled.

»Don’t worry, Inga, I will not ask for your weight next! Instead, I prefer to see if you are in good shape! Take off that coat!«

»What if I refuse?«

Ben shrugged.

»Then, my men will do the favour! Same result, more hands all over your body!«

Inga murmured something in Swedish she hadn’t learned from reading Astrid Lindgren, opened the coat and dropped it. Underneath, she still sported her off white Ursula Andress bikini that matched strangely, but also nicely with her black, knee-length boots. When Ben let his eyes wander over her athletic and buxom forms, she balled her fists, but managed not to cover herself.

»If you dare touching me, you’ll end like the bottle!«

»How about  a deal instead, Inga?«, Ben asked, obviously rather amused by her defiance. He answered her look, and something in his eyes made Inga ask what kind of deal he had in mind.

»You behave whilst I strip you, and neither I nor one of my men will fuck you! Struggle, or say anything that I don’t consider nice, and well, I am afraid a few of them are a bit rough on their edges!«

Inga’s chest heaved when she fought her inner demons, but when Ben approached her, reached around her and unclasped her bikini top, she didn’t stir. Ben removed the garment, exposing a pair of ample breasts.

»Tall, athletic, blonde hair, blue eyes! The epitome of Scandinavian beauty! And you also have those lovely, shiny white teeth!«

He pushed his fingers into her mouth, touching her teeth. Inga grunted from disgust, not only from the humiliation, but also because just minutes ago, these fingers had touched Carmen’s private parts. Ben withdrew with a grin.

»Too bad that unlike bras, bikini tops don’t have labels!«

Even from the distance, Johanna could see how Inga’s knuckles turned white as she balled her fists even harder when Ben now fondled her breasts.

»Just tell me what I want to know and I stop, Inga!«

»I am a 36C!«, Inga spat, and indeed, Ben withdrew, but only to hook his thumbs into the waistband of the bottom. Slowly, he peeled the panties down until he could see a glimpse of her pubic hair. Inga wheezed, and he looked up.

»Is there anything underneath we cannot expect, Inga? No dangly bits, I hope!«

He revealed a thin strip of dark blonde hair, and beside it was a small tattoo, showing a small star. Ben chuckled.

»So, the last visitor left a one star review?«

When Inga denied him a reaction, except from blushing slightly, he peeled the panties down her legs and took them off. On an order from him, the two henchmen then grabbed the Swede’s arms and forced her to sit on Johanna’s lap, face to face, or rather breasts to breasts. The black tied her booted ankles to the rear legs whilst the other man forced her arms around Johanna, so their boobs were squashed a bit, and tied her crossed wrists together, fixing them to the ring at the tip of Johanna’s sheathed fingers.

At that moment, the third henchman returned, followed by Miranda who carried a bucket and a broom and cleaned up the mess. Ben thanked her.

»Call me a philistine, but I can think better in a clean area! Also, I don’t want any of those wearing no boots to step on a shard and get hurt!«

He made a show of him considering something, walking up and down with his hand on his temple. Almost apologetically, he explained:

»I have to excuse! Usually, I am a man of quick decisions, but now, I am not only offered four busty blondes instead of one – I also have to think about what to do with the four non blondes that came with the unexpected present!«

***