Blonde Needles in a Giant Haystack 12

The group of people walked slowly through the sandy mounds and valleys, lit only by the pale light of the half-moon. Their leader needed to repeatedly make sure they were not heading towards one of the mine fields, and all others had more or less heavy load to carry. So, they made hardly more than a mile per hour, and they regularly held small pauses.

Behind Wassim was Ben, his hand on his gun if the slight distrust he felt towards their guide would turn out to be justified. Jean was close behind him; so close that not only they could have a whispered conversation, but Ben could also occasionally reach for the large bundle his right hand was carrying. Somehow, it had a soothing effect on him to grab Carmen’s feet that protruded from the blanket, and to massage her soles and play with her toes. The helpless woman twitched, and when there was no sound of their steps, he could hear a faint sound come from under the blanket, but so far, she hadn’t tried to buck.

In fact, though being blindfolded and with her ears stuffed, Carmen was sure that it was Ben’s hand that caressed her feet. She could sense that her captor was carrying her over his left shoulder; thus, the hand resting on her butt was his left. The hand massaging her feet, however, was also a left hand, telling her that there was someone else.

She was sure that it was Ben; what she wasn’t sure about was if that meant something. He had been slightly kinder to her than to the others. The not too tight and smooth crotch scarf instead of a moist leather thong gave evidence of that.

»Is he just playing with me? Does he want to keep me as his plaything? And what would it mean if he did so?«

She had to think of Inga who had accused her of being a trophy wife. Sure, she hadn’t married Enrique Vega for love, and he had been 40 years her senior, but very rich. Ben was younger and had even more money.

»If I become his concubine or whatsoever, I could perhaps also do something for the others!«

It was a thought that helped her to cope with her situation a bit, but Carmen knew that if by letting Ben have his way with her, she could save just herself, she would do so.

Some two yards behind them was Barrot who was carrying Inga, obviously not affected by the weight of the tall athletic blonde. More reflexively than with actually escape in mind, the Swede had tried to squirm and get from his shoulder, but Barrot, though not especially a brute, had taken measures.

When a few hard spanks hadn’t shown the desired effect, Barrot had pushed his hand between the blanket Inga was wrapped in, and one of his fingers had found its way between her buttocks, hooking under the tight crotch strap. When Inga had next tried to struggle, Barrot had yanked – and to Inga, it had felt as if the leather string had turned into a red hot iron. The wave of pain radiating through her womb had caused her to twitch and to scream into her massive gag, inaudible to the girl with her stuffed ears. Then, she had felt like physically exhausted, hanging weakly over Barrot’s muscular shoulder and panting heavily whilst the pain ceased to a still irritating tingle.

Inga’s fighting spirit had not yet been broken: her bound hands were close to Barrot’s hand, now resting loosely on her butt, and Inga had pinched him. It had been a weak attack, given her fingers were numb and she wore her nails short – but obviously, Barrot followed the doctrine of »nip it in the bud«. He once again tugged on her crotch rope, and though Inga had tried to prepare herself for this, the new wave of pain struck her nevertheless.

Whilst she still was recovering, a flashback of her military training haunted her: she had done some Martial Arts training, and the Sensei had been a small, not very athletic looking guy. He had looked for a volunteer to attack him, and Inga had done so, trusting in her height and strength. A minute later, he had held her in a lever grip pinching on a nerve, and whenever Inga had tried to break free, there had been just more pain.

That had just been a lesson, and the Sensei had not taken advantages of him being superior. However, Inga had been given a glimpse of being helpless, and now, this glimpse had turned into a veritable epiphany. She could not fight, not even inflict a few wounds; she could neither see nor hear, and she could not scream, barely make a sound at all. Inga fumed, but all her rage found no channel than to faintly moan through the panties in her mouth whilst her lap pressed against Barrot’s shoulder and her boobs grinded over his lower back. She was very aware that if she twitched, struggled, or if he just wanted to do so, Barrot could send another wave of pain through her body by just flicking his finger.

After some time, Barrot had freed his finger from her crotch rope; not out of clemency, but the leather had dried and therefore tightened. Now, there was a perpetual inconvenience turning to pain more and more, and Inga reminded Ben’s mocking advice to »better keep things moist«. Inga did so, but only because she sweated profusely, both from the stuffy heat in the tight blanket and from sheer helpless rage.

Next was Nico, carrying Babette. She had decided to minimize the pain by lying as still as possible. Nico was not above touching helpless girls, but he separated between being on a mission and enjoying his free time, and so, he did not grope her butt or otherwise touch her. Babette was left alone in her dark, silent and warm cocoon, and only the tight crotch rope prevented her from dozing off. From time to time, when Nico stepped over a bump or shifted her position, she let out a faint whimper, but otherwise, she tried to just stay alive.

Originally, Sid and Cory had secured the rear, but Marco had let himself fall back a little, so he could take care of Dalanda the little her bondage allowed. His left hand gently kneaded her buttocks through the blanket, and his other hand rested on her heels, with his fingers brushing over her soles, though he tried not to move them too much since he had recognized the girl was obviously ticklish. Like that, he wanted to give her a little solace – not knowing that it had the opposite effect.

Dalanda had been tied up before, and though these bonds were very tight, she could have coped with it. She had also been gagged on several occasions – but now, she not only had to chew on two pairs of used panties, she had to bite down hard on them, unable to move her jaw. Her tongue was blocked, and she could only taste the vile gag, shuddering whenever she realized what caused its taste. Her screams were faint chortles and gurgles in the back of her throat, and this gag would never come off without help.

Then, there was the sensory deprivation. Being blindfolded when Wassim and his men had kidnapped her had been terrible, but now, she had also been robbed her ability to hear. Smelling was reduced to the stale air, filtered by the used pantyhose covering her head, and Dalanda tried to completely ignore the signals her tasting buds sent her. So, only feeling was left.

Her oversensitive nerves got a variety of stimulations: her ample boobs rested om Marco’s lower back, and they slightly grinded over it, rubbed by the rough wool of her blanket. Dalanda felt a tingle in her nipples, and whilst she tried to ignore it, it distracted her from the painful strain in her shoulders, the numbness in her arms and legs.

The hand on her feet sent small shivers through her soles, but at least, Marco no longer brushed over them in a way she had to twitch. However, the small tingles from her feet and those from the tips of her breasts seemed to radiate through her body, meeting at her middle where she had to face the greatest attack on her calmness.

Her womb was pressed against Marco’s shoulder, and the constant movement of the man’s muscles provided a constant slight massage. This alone would not have been irritating, but shoved in her crotch rope was the vibrator, and it still buzzed. Dalanda had rocked her hips, trying to dislodge it, but only made things worse by doing so. She had screamed, whimpered and finally tried to ignore it. There was no way she would feel other than humiliated.

And yet, as the leather crotch rope had tightened, her body had realized that whilst she could not stop the thong from sliding even deeper into her cleft, she had the choice between more pain, or distraction from it, and so, Dalanda had reflexively allowed her hips to slightly move, to react to the vibrations. The strain and tightness ceased a bit, making room for a blissful tingle and a growing warmth.

»I am getting aroused! What is wrong with me?«

The answer was easily given: her body had been looking for an escape, as desperate as Dalanda’s brain had, and unlike her mind, her body had found a way of getting out of her plight, at least temporarily. There was something else than just helplessness and fear, and if her body had to sacrifice modesty and self-control to get there, it deliberately would do so.

***

Johanna guessed that it was around 3 or 4 am, but she didn’t dare to reach for her phone, as she didn’t want to risk waking up Sato. They were both hidden under the blanket, with only their heads protruding, and the Japanese had his arm put around her, with his hand resting on her breast. Johanna had to oppress the urge to reach for his hand and press it harder against her chest, and even the soft touch sent shivers through her nipple.

They had cuddled, and when massaging her feet, Sato had playfully tickled her a bit, causing her to equally playful pull on his earlobe. Once, she had even slightly bitten him, but they hadn’t kissed. She couldn’t speak for him, but she had known that once their lips and tongues would have met, she wouldn’t have been able to stop.

Soft as a breeze, hoping he wouldn’t wake up, Johanna caressed his hair, remembering a night now 17 years ago. She had been together with her first boyfriend, and on one occasion when her parents had been out, he had stayed overnight. He had wanted more than just kissing, and deep in her heart, Johanna had also wanted to get to the next base; however, her parents had raised her to be modest, maybe even a little prudish, and so, she had felt the duty not to follow her desires.

It had ended with her keeping her virginity for one year longer, and boyfriend number two had later become her husband. So far, he had been the only man she had gone physical with (if one didn’t count her encounter with Carmen), and though a part of her desperately wanted Sato to be number two, another part told her to wait until things had calmed down and they knew it would be more than just a short carnal affair.

So, Johanna had not made passes, and Sato, being a polite Asian, had respected it. Not with ease, though; when they had cuddled, she had felt that his manhood, and though they were now lying side by side, the mere memory sent a tingle through her loins, and she slightly arched her back, so her breast pressed more into his hand.

»The functioning adult in me has made a reasonable decision! But though, as a writer, I should find better words to put it, the woman in me is horny as fuck!«

***

Some ten yards above, Ana was also awake, though she had managed to sleep for a few hours, despite being bound. She had considered trying to work on her bonds, but decided against it. Johanna had sounded honest when promising her they would set her free in a few hours, and right now, her situation was tolerable.

She looked towards the adjacent bed where either Gabriela or Melissa were faintly snoring as they were lying in a tight embrace. The two had not fully enjoyed being together, but Ana had been able to hear oppressed giggling and sighing, and she wasn’t born yesterday and knew that these two were more than just friends.

»At least, they kept their fingers from me!«

Indeed, except for stripping her to her bra and panties, they had not taken sexual advantages so far. The Japanese had embraced her when they had been hiding in the car’s boot, but it had been to help her cope with her claustrophobia, and she had been pleased he had not exposed that to the others yet.

She had seen that there was something between him and Johanna going on. Ana had read the official Police report and also Sato’s rather weird first confession, and according to that, he had been trying to free her from being held captive, but he somehow had been guilty she had been captured at all.

»And my instructors told me that Stockholm Syndrome’s a myth!«

Her thoughts wandered to the two new members of her captors’ gang. Jeb looked like a chucker-out or an enforcer, and the way he had looked over her scantily clad body had made her cringe. John, however, not only was far more handsome, Ana was also sure that, albeit he had also looked at her curves, he would be able to tell the colour of her eyes, too.

»He seems more like a secret agent than a criminal! And for sure, he doesn’t look like someone who would kill an innocent hostage!«

***

Wassim had made the passage through the Berm a few times, and he was sure they had the most difficult part behind them. For some 20 minutes, they had hidden behind a dune when a military car had passed by, and he knew that on the other side of the tire marks, the Free Zone more or less began, though they still had to be careful.

He approached Ben and pointed at a few hills in front of them, visible only as black shadows on the horizon.

»We now have two options – the fast and strenuous one, and also the longer and easier way!«

He continued by explaining that they could either circle around the ravine separating them from the hills where the Free Zone definitely began – or, they could go straight ahead and cross the ravine via a bridge that consisted of little more than a few ropes.

»It’s not a problem for an able-bodied man – but it could be difficult with the – excess baggage!«

Wasim pointed at the closest bundle. In the dark, he could only tell it wasn’t Dalanda, for the protruding pair of feet was white. Ben checked his watch, telling him it was some two hours until dawn.

»If we walk around, the sun will rise before we make it, and though I think we could fight off a single Jeep, they would call for help!«

The others agreed upon using the direct way, and Wassim secretly let out a breath of relief. So far, his plan worked!

»Sid, Cory!«

The two mercenaries approached, and Ben gave order they should go with Wassim and check the ravine whilst he would follow with the others.

»Just in case someone placed a trap!«

Wassim cursed silently as they approached the hills. He hoped that his comrades would not decide to shoot before they looked who was who.

Being able to walk in a normal pace, they only needed some 15 minutes before they had reached the rim of the ravine that looked like a giant black gap in the dark. Wassim knew it was steep and some 100 to 150 feet deep – one could climb through it, but it would take hours to get to the other side.

After another ten minutes, he found the bridge. It consisted of three ropes that were connected every few yards and formed a »V«, with the two upper ropes acting as a railing. As Wassim had stated, it was only difficult if someone had to carry heavy luggage.

»How far to the other side?«, Sid asked, looking into the dark.

»At least 150 feet, maybe 200!«

The two mercenaries exchanged a few words; then, Sid took off both his backpack and rifle and only checked the gun in his belt.

»Cover me!«, he hissed towards Cory who also removed the backpack from his shoulders and aimed at the vague direction of the bridge’s other end. Wassim recognized the man also had an eye on him, and he tried not to look as if he was about to reach for his own gun.

Cory slowly crossed the bridge, and about three minutes after they had lost sight, he signalled with a small torch. Cory stayed alert, but he whispered:

»Seems the other end is clean!«

However, when the rest of the group arrived, he reported another issue to Ben:

»The damn bridge swayed like a sheep’s tail when Cory crossed it!«

They checked the ropes that looked okay, but the message was clear: getting over was balancing rather than walking.

»Shortcut my ass!«

Nico, having placed Babette on the ground, spat into the ravine. He, Jean and Barrot also took position, with only Marco looking at the damsels. He was feeling a mixture of concern and amusement: during the last hour, Dalanda had squirmed more and more, and in the end, she had twitched and spasmed, only to then lie still over his shoulder since then, obviously completely exhausted. When he had checked whether she still breathed, he had smelled a specific fragrance, and he wondered if he was hallucinating, or if the girl really had-

»Okay, if anyone can do it, it is you!«

Barrot had volunteered to carry the girls one by one, and so, the others crossed the bridge, only taking their weapons with them (Ben decided to also take his bag of cash money), and only Barrot and Marco stayed behind. It was on the other side when they realized Wassim was no longer with them.

»Maybe, he’s with Marco and Barrot! Anyway, defence line!«

They positioned themselves so they could defend the bridge head, and they also prepared some hand grenades. If this was a trap, the enemy would pay a high price.

Ben, his gun in his hand, watched the swaying bridge, and from the dark, Barrot’s tall silhouette emerged. He was carrying one of the cocooned girls as if she was a pillow, and when he placed her on the ground, Ben could guess from the size it was Inga.

»I started with the heaviest load!«

He chuckled and added:

»Good she couldn’t hear that!«

Inga was moving slightly, indicating she was still alive and hadn’t fainted, but Ben only gave her a cursory look. If any of their captives meant more to him than just a bargain chip, it was Carmen.

»One down, three to go!«, he murmured. In the east, a red glow indicated that the sun was about to rise, and this would allow them to see – and to be seen – better.

On the other side, Wassim grew nervous. His comrades had told him to lead the group to the ravine – they would take over there. However, what if the tall man had carried the last girl over the bridge and the black mercenary would kill him before he left, too? Even if his friends then attacked, it would be too late for him!

Barrot appeared, and after a few sips from his canteen, he put Carmen over his shoulder. They could now make out the other side of the bridge, and though they couldn’t see details, Wassim was sure he had made it almost to the other side.

BOOM!

The explosion wasn’t heavy, and it sounded somehow muffled, but both Marco and Wassim reflexively threw themselves to the ground. There was a yell, and then, Wassim realized that the bridge was no longer there.

»What the-«

RATATATATA!

The shots of the rapid fire gun hit Marco who had just come to his feet, and with a cry, he went over the edge of the ravine. A moment later, two black-clad figures appeared from the dark. One aimed at the other side of the bridge where the ropes now dangled and some black figures seemed to be crowded. The second one patted Wassim’s shoulder.

»Sorry, we are a little late!«

His eyes wandered over the two bundles, and he asked:

»Two?«

Wassim shrugged, and so, with the third man backing them, he and his saviour each shouldered one of the girls and they left.

***

»What the fuck was that?«

Luckily, Barrot had firmly grabbed the railing when the explosion happened, and he had been so close to the end of the bridge that the others had been able to pull up both him and Carmen he still held with one hand. Cory and Sid had fired a few shots at the other side, but to no avail.

»Can you see Marco?«

Nico shook his head.

»There is no one! Fuck!«

Ben was facing the dilemma of staying at their exposed position and to abseil a man to look for Marco – or to declare him dead and move on. Before he could say something, Jean pointed into the direction the path from the bridge took.

»We have visitors!«

They could make out two or three men, and they had also spotted them, as they had withdrawn behind a rock. One of them shouted something in Arabic, and Jean translated:

»They say we filthy Moroccans shall get back behind our fence!«

Ben grinned humourlessly.

»So, it wasn’t them who cut the bridge behind us – literally!«

After a short pondering, he rose and yelled in French:

»If you are the Colonel’s men, ask him whether he has equally pleasant memories about Casablanca than me!«

In the following silence, Ben asked Jean to light a cigarette and hand it to him. Having inhaled, he whispered:

»If they are not the Colonel’s men, this could easily be my last!«

There were a few minutes in which the other side did nothing, and most of the other men also smoked to pass the time. Then, a voice yelled in French with a heavy accent:

»The Colonel said that the only thing that thrive in Casablanca are cockroaches!«

With a relieved grin, Ben replied:

»Better cockroaches than cock rats!«

From down the path, two men approached, one of them carrying no gun and looking at them.

»Mr. Keane? Salam Aleikum!«

»Aleikumu Salam!«

Beside him, Jean also showed a broad grin. Obviously, Ben and the Colonel had agreed upon a code, and after verifying his identity, the Colonel had given order to treat the VIP guests with all the respect they deserved.

A few minutes later, Ben sat on the load of a military van, with his men around him and the two damsels lying to their feet. Despite his wish to look after Marco, the soldiers had insisted to get their important guest to the Colonel immediately, for they feared there would perhaps be more of Sheikh Mansur’s men around.

Ben felt sorry for the young Black who had been a good and loyal man, maybe a little to soft for the job. Also, he was angry that he had lost two of the girls.

»Anyway, I still have something to bargain with, and I haven’t become who I am now if I had ever dodged a difficult negotiation!«

***

At the hotel »Alcalde«, breakfast was served from 7:30 am on, and so, the kitchen came to life about an hour earlier. The kitchen aids were a bit surprised about the blonde man who appeared shortly after 6:30 and, with the help of the little Arabic he spoke, his charming smile and a 20 Dollar note, persuaded them to prepare two thermos bottles of coffee and some sandwiches for him and his friends who all wanted to have breakfast at their rooms before they had to leave early. However, there was nothing illegal in his wish, and so, a few minutes later, John left the kitchen, carrying a large tray with the desired objects on it.

At the staircase, he met Johanna and Sato who seemed to have come from the parking lot and for the fraction of a second, he could see that they parted their hands. When he greeted them and smiled, he was sure that Johanna had slightly blushed.

Jeb was also awake, and when Sato protectively placed himself in front of Johanna, he grinned.

»Ohio Godzilla!«

Sato raised an eyebrow, and John also seemed a bit puzzled. Jeb shrugged and mumbled:

»I just tried to be friendly! Doesn’t it mean ›Good Morning‹ in Japanese?«

»Ohayo Gozaimasu!«, Sato replied, putting as much contempt into the greeting as possible. They knocked at the girls’ door, and after some rustling, Gabriela opened, having put on her jeans, but still clad in her sleeping T-Shirt without a bra. Melissa, dressed the same way, sat on the bed where Ana had been in. It was empty, but before anyone could say something, she pointed at the ajar bathroom door and yawned.

»She’s taking a shower! The window’s too small to slip through it, and I forbade her to close the door, so I can see what she’s doing!«

Jeb’s neck grew longer, and through the gap between the door and the frame, he could see the silhouette of a naked woman through the shower curtain.

»Now, I am awake!«, he chuckled. John playfully waved his index finger.

»Take some coffee instead! We are not here for pleasure!«

In an act of female solidarity, Melissa rose and positioned herself in the gap, so Ana could towel herself and put her bra and panties back on without being watched by the men. She was left unrestrained, and she obviously didn’t want to cause trouble for what she hoped were her last hours in captivity. So, she just apologetically stated towards Johanna:

»I am afraid I have used up all the warm water!«

Gabriela, who had noticed Johanna’s dishevelled hair and her slightly reddened cheeks, bent towards the blonde and whispered:

»Maybe, you’d prefer a cold shower anyway!«

Johanna’s cheeks turned crimson, and she felt like a schoolgirl that had been caught by the teacher after having been in the boys’ locker room.

»It’s not how you think!«

Gabriela smiled sweetly, indicating she didn’t believe her a single word. Johanna rushed into the bathroom and washed her face; then, they had their simple breakfast and John grabbed the long coat Johanna had bought to conceal Ana’s bonds. Holding it by the lapel as if they had attended a restaurant, he attended the Spaniard. Ana slipped into the garment, and she was well aware of the way John’s eyes wandered over her scantily clad body. The feeling wasn’t all unpleasant.

»We have to make sure you don’t run away or alert someone when we get you to the truck!«

John managed to sound as if this was a slight nuisance, and Ana took the chance to confront him directly. She focussed his eyes and replied:

»It’s just for a few more hours, isn’t it?«

John showed a smile that looked a bit enigmatic, and Ana, slightly confused, did not notice the movement in the corner of her eye. Jeb’s hand darted forward, and his fingers, nimble despite being meaty, pinched her carotid artery. Ana’s eyes widened, and she let out a surprised croak before she collapsed, sinking into John’s arms who prevented her from falling. Sato reached for his gun, and the girls all gasped. John’s smile turned into a grin that did not reach his eyes.

»It will make things easier when she is already on the load when she wakes up again!«

Sato gave him an angry glance and he ostentatiously checked if Ana was okay. Reluctantly, he nodded when he saw she was breathing regularly, and he and Jeb maneuvered her down the stairs and to the truck whilst John and the girls carried the other luggage.

On the load, they removed Ana’s coat and put her into a hogtie. Sato shoved the damp cloth back into her mouth and taped over it; then, he draped one of the blankets over the girl, leaving her head free. Jeb held the tape roll to him.

»How about a blindfold?«

»She has seen us already!«

In reality, he wanted to spare Ana another attack of claustrophobia, and with the others gathered around her, she would not have to pull the blanket over her head either.

John and Jeb went into the passenger’s cabin, as Jeb was best in driving the ancient car, and John was the one the two prisoners would remember. They drove for the Police Department where John was greeted by the Sergeant who seemed a bit nervous, though he showed a broad smile when John handed him the money.

Both Ayoub and Akli were wearing new clean djellabas, and they looked as if they had come in contact with water and soap since John had last seen them. They also showed the mixture of anticipation and fear in their eyes.

John did not ask why he didn’t have to sign any contract when the Sergeant had opened the cell and the two men stepped out.

»They are your problem now! Just remember to leave the town immediately!«

»You heard the officer!«, John stated, making an inviting gesture towards the door. Ali reluctantly stepped outside, followed by the limping Ayoub. They both frowned when they saw the old military truck. John asked:

»You speak English?«

Ali nodded, making a wavering gesture with his hand. John grinned and patted his shoulder.

»Excellent! So, you can get on the passenger seat and tell Jeb where he has to go! Don’t worry, he isn’t half as snappy as he looks!«

Ayoub and Ali exchanged a worried look, but the young man obeyed whilst John escorted Ayoub towards the load. They knew that separating them prevented them from secretly plotting anything in Arabic, and it gave their new employer extra control.

»Don’t worry, I will help you to climb inside, and though it might be a little stuffy and crowded, you will enjoy the company of four pretty girls!«

When the truck drove off, Ayoub got a last view of the prison, and he began to ask himself if he and Ali had chosen the better option.

***