Maddy becomes a ponygirl 6 | steel cage, gag, hood | ponygirl stories


free porn sex stories BDSM pictures galleries BDSM instructions and techniques BDSM stories list Online torture stories

Martinez took a long drink of coffee. The stake out had been a waste of time. He knew it would be, but Jake was the boss, and he got paid no matter what. They were back in the conference room again.

It was eleven a.m. There had been progress.

Jake had reported to Bertram the night before and would call him again after the conference. Always keep the customer informed. If something went wrong, you didn't have to explain it from the beginning.

Martinez was a light skinned Latino, with black hair and a small, narrow mustache. He was light and wiry, but sharp as a tack and a good watcher. He had a great sense of people and could pick out a baddun from a block away. If he didn't see anybody suspicious, then they weren't there. He spoke Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, some French and a smattering of Swedish. Where that last one came from no one knew. Consistent with type, he was aces with a knife.

"So, boss," he said, "where we at?"

Jake leaned back in his chair and looked over at his techie. "Well, Irving," he inquired, "where are we at?"

Irving took a deep breath and shuffled a small stack of papers in front of him. He had worked most of the night assembling in his mind the necessary components of the 'gizmo', as he called it, which apparently cut off the gas to Maddy's car. "I figured out two ways to assemble the gizmo you'd need to clamp off the gas by radio control,"

he said. "You'd need to have a strong transmitter and a sensitive receiver because of the electrical current being thrown off in the engine compartment. Transmitters that strong are a dime a dozen, but there are only two receivers made that are durable enough and small enough to work. You can't predict with any real assurance that the car won't go over a pothole or down a bumpy road, or even get rear ended by somebody."

"Come on, Irving, I don't need the lecture, just give me what you've got." Jake insisted.

"Okay, okay, but you've got to hear it all. You want to have confidence in my conclusions, don't you? I mean I can see it now,

'Are you sure, Irving? How do you know that, Irving? What makes you so certain, Irving?' Jeez!" Irving was easily exasperated.

"My bad, Irving," Jake said. "Get on with it."

"Okay. I ruled out one of the receivers since it's got a poor record for durability. A real good receiver, but not one you want to knock around.

"The receiver I would have used is made by Raytheon and is carried by three electronic catalogues and two electronic chains."

"Give me their names and I'll get somebody working on checking it out," Jake said.

"Hold on, cowboy, there's more."

Jake looked at Irving, exasperated. "So, give," he said impatiently.

"I sent out the vacuumed stuff from the car and the clay from the tote bag. The vacuumed stuff so far is a dud, but that'll take a while yet to go all the way through. The stupid flatfoots were all over the inside of the car so I don't expect anything very useful from that."

Irving sipped of his coffee and everyone else rolled their eyes.

Irving had a flair for the dramatic.

"Well, the clay was a home run. It's Georgia clay, as I expected.

Now where would a girl from Carter County, Tennessee get Georgia clay on her tote bag? I think the bag was in the guy's car for some reason. While it was there, probably on the floor, it picked up the clay. After he made the snatch, he threw it back in the car. He probably had to open the hood from the inside anyway to retrieve the gizmo."

"Well, Irving, Georgia's a pretty big state." Martinez knew his geography.

"Ah, yes, Senor Martinez, but what we have to find is overlapping sets. One set is the places in Georgia where this kind of clay is found.

There are about twenty five locations mapped by the state geological survey."

"And the other set, I suppose," Jake said, "is the stores that carry this receiver."

"Yes, and it gets better," Irving replied. "You see, I run one of the best labs in the country. I hire the best guys I can find. Cost is no–"

"Enough with the commercial, Irving," Jake interrupted. "Give."

Tucker was in a distracted state. Any heavy thinking like this made his mind fog up. Just give him somebody's face to smash. The other two men were hanging on Irving's every word.

"Well, the clay deposits of this particular type run down along the banks of the Callamuchie River. It's three hundred miles from the mountains to the sea, but we found something that narrows it down considerably. My guys found a trace of a juniper berry in the clay.

Just a little tiny piece, probably from an exploded pod. Well, there's only about a ten mile stretch along the river where juniper trees grow, just at the base of the Blue Hills."

"You mean this guy lives somewhere in that ten mile stretch?"

Martinez asked.

"Not necessarily," Irving answered. "He could have gotten out of his car to take a piss there, but it's at least even money – and, it gets better."

"Irving, you're killing me," Jake complained.

"I know," Irving replied, "I can't help it. So anyway, remember when I said there were two chains that carried the receiver?"

"We remember!" Jake and Martinez said at the same time.

"There's only one store within fifty miles of this clay and the juniper trees. That's in Murfreesboro."

"Okay, Jake said with authority. "Martinez, get on the phone and check out the store see if they sold one of these things.

"Not so fast, Count," Irving interjected. "I have the solution right here." He pointed to his stack of papers. "One of these receivers was sold by the Murfreesboro store three months ago."

"Three months ago!" Jake exclaimed. "What good is that?"

"Listen, they only sell a few hundred of these things a year in the entire country, outside of the military, that is."

"The military?" Jake asked. "Isn't there a military base near Murfreesboro."

"Yeah," Martinez answered. "Fort Benning."

"Fort Benning? Congratulations, Irving, you've narrowed it down to somebody in the 101st Airborne Division!" Jake wasn't happy being led down a garden path.

"No, no, no," Irving replied. "This guy isn't in the military."

"Come on now Irving, now you're working on a hunch," Jake said.

"Yes, a hunch," Irving replied, "but a good one. You've got to have a lot of free time to go around snatching girls."

"One girl," Jake retorted.

"I'm betting there are more," Irving answered.

"Well, I'm still waiting for a response from my FBI contact. So the jury's still out on that," Jake said.

"Listen, the profile for this type of guy doesn't fit the military,"

Irving continued. "He's a white guy, between forty-five and sixty. He probably lives somewhere remote and alone. If he's killing these girls, he's got to have a lot of property to bury them, otherwise there'd be bodies turning up everywhere."

"Okay, that's enough on that for now. I'm going to wait until I hear from the FBI guy before I jump on that with both feet. In the meantime," Jake said turning to Martinez, "I assume the college angle is a dead end."

"Yeah, it's a dead end. It just doesn't feel right."

"Oh," Irving interrupted, "now who's got the hunch?"

"It's a hunch I can live with. I'm pretty well convinced on the Georgia angle," Jake stated. "The store in Murfreesboro is a good lead. In the meantime, I'm going to talk to the mechanic. I want to tie down this 'gizmo' angle. If this guy says he put a clamp on that hose for any reason, we're back to square one."

The other men in the room nodded. Even Tucker understood this one.

"I want all the stores and catalogue places checked anyway. Irving, can you tap into the catalogue company computers?"

"Easily," he answered.

"Then do it. Martinez, Tucker, I want you guys to go down to Murfreesboro and nose around. Get a feel of the place and scout out this ten mile corridor." Jake turned to Irving. "How wide is it?"

"Oh, maybe five miles," he answered.

"Great, we've got fifty square miles to cover. Anyway, we can start, but I don't want to put all of our eggs in one basket. Tomorrow I'm going down to Fort Benning to look around. Let me tell you that an airborne division has about ten thousand guys, and there're all kinds of support people. Let's hope Irving is right about the clay and his profile of the kidnapper – and let's hope our guy just didn't stop to take a piss on the side of the road."

The delivery van rolled inexorably toward Elizabeth, New Jersey with its three dismayed passengers. Maddy had no idea how long she had been cooped up in the locker, but she had already peed twice. She raged against the people who were so mistreating her, schemed of possible escapes. She thought of her father, of Harold and her friends.

She thought back to Jefferson High in Cleveland. She tried to think about anything but where she was headed and what would happen to her when she got there. When she did, and she couldn't help but think of it, she had a cold, sinking feeling in her stomach.

She was grateful when the gentle rocking of the truck along the highway lulled her to sleep. She drifted in and out for what seemed to be long periods, since she had no way of keeping time. She had no idea whether they had been on the road for three, four or ten hours. It seemed like forever.

The men in the front of the truck were taking turns driving. The tall one drove first. After three hours, Chuckie, the younger guy took over.

"Hey, Mr. Feeney, when are we gonna eat?" he asked.

'Feeney' was all anyone knew him by. It was 'Mr. Feeney' to the guys who worked for him. He shook himself awake. "Eat?" he replied. "Is that all you can think about, food?"

"No, I give an awful lot of thought to the cunts in the back of the truck too. How I wanna fuck 'em."

"Well stop thinking about it," Feeney said, annoyed. "You'll get some poontang when we get to Elizabeth."

"We shoulda bought that cunt he had in the hole," Chuckie continued.

"Are you kidding?" Feeney asked. "I already got one bitch I'm gonna have a hard time gettin rid of."

"Yeah, but we coulda kept the fat girl around for a while, you know, fuck meat."

Chuckie and Feeney had been invited down in the 'hole' for a blow job before they left. Maureen was quite shocked to see new people.

When she was told to suck their cocks she thought maybe if she did a good job she would get taken away by them. She wasn't that fat and she had lost at least ten pounds since she had been kidnapped.

Herman pulled Maureen's head through the little window in the cage then fastened the back of her collar to the topmost bar. Feeney had gone first. It was against his better judgment, but all that pussy juice he had smelled had gotten him horny. The girl slurped and slobbered over his dick. She hadn't yet been taught how to give a good blow job. They said there was no such thing as a bad blowjob, but this was as close as it got. He had to grab her head and pump his cock down her throat to get off.

Chuckie had a very different experience. He loved the slippery warmth of Maureen's mouth. He liked how she worked so hard to pleasure him. She made a little humming sound as she sucked him, staccato-like. Each time she bobbed her head down on his cock she uttered a little "mmmmmm." It didn't take long for him to flood her mouth with jism. It dribbled down her chin. Chuckie laughed. He took some in his hand and smeared it over her face.

The desperate fat girl was disconsolate when Herman shoved the gag back in. He unhooked her collar from the steel framework and pushed her head back so she fell against the back of the cage. Frantic, Maureen threw herself against the front of the cage. Her words were garbled, but their import was clear. Herman smelt an income opportunity.

"I could let you have her for another ten grand," he said hopefully.

"No thanks," Feeney replied as he climbed up the ladder.

"Five thousand?" Herman inquired. He didn't want to give up his fuck bunny for so little but money was money and five grand was five grand.

"No," was all that Feeney said.

Chuckie just shrugged his shoulders and zipped up. "Goodbye, suckbucket," he said to Maureen and launched himself up the stairs.

Herman leaned over the cage and said ominously, "I'll be back, suckbucket."

So Feeney and Chuckie had divergent views on the value of Maureen, but it was Feeney's opinion that counted, and now that Chuckie had mentioned it, he was a little hungry too. It would be good to stretch their legs.

"Okay, next time you see a McDonalds or Burger King, or some place like that, you can pull over."

They were traveling North on Route 81 in Virginia. They had been on the road about six hours. Ironically, they passed within a mile of Maddy's apartment as they passed through Carter County, Tennessee.

She had no way of knowing that and never would.

Maddy felt the truck come to a rolling stop and it jolted her awake.

Maybe they had reached their destination. Maybe the truck had been stopped by the cops. Should she do something? Anything? The only part of her that she could move was her head. Her arms and legs were fastened down prohibitively. She tried banging her head against the back of the locker, but the place behind her head was heavily padded.

She could feel her head hitting the pad, but she couldn't tell if she was making any noise. The earplugs shut it all out.

Feeney got out and lit a cigarette. He hated smoking while he rode in a car; it made him queasy. Chuckie hopped out and headed for the restaurant.

"Hey, where you goin?" Feeney called to him.

"I got to piss, bad," Chuckie answered.

"Okay, but just get some food and come right back out. Get me a double cheeseburger and a Coke."

Chuckie waved in response and kept walking.

Feeney walked around the van to make sure everything was copasetic. He stopped for a moment, thinking he heard something from inside. He knew the girls were tied in tight. The little cells were well insulated. The truck pumped air in and out. He listened carefully a moment more. "Nah," he thought to himself. He was mistaken.

Maddy stopped banging her head and started sobbing. What was happening to her was unbelievable. Every girl held a secret, or not so secret, fear of being raped or murdered. Or being raped and murdered. But to be kidnapped like this, to be bought and sold? How could she ever have prepared herself for this? It was only the resumption of the vibration of the truck's engine and its return to motion that ceased Maddy's crying. Apparently they were not yet at their destination. She had a reprieve from her fate.

It was one o'clock in the afternoon when the van finally arrived in Elizabeth. Feeney was driving and he had about had it. Maybe next time I'll bring two guys. This driving is killing me.

The van pulled into the garage of the Nationwide Uniform Company. There were uniform trucks pulling in and out. If anybody had checked on the van while on the road, it would have come back perfectly legit. There was a special interior door in the garage used only by special vans. Feeney had the remote and pressed it. The door lurched open. He drove the van through to another door. He waited until the rear door closed then got down and punched a combination into the controller. The door started to rise and he jumped back into the truck and drove it through. The door closed automatically.

The second door led to a long ramp. Once the van reached the bottom, Feeney shut the engine and stepped out. Home at last.

Chuckie stepped out of the other side. "Hey, Mr. Feeney, I'm really bushed. Can we leave the goods in the truck until later?" he asked, yawning.

"Absolutely not, idiot. They'd suffocate in about an hour," Feeney answered in an aggravated tone. "Come on, it'll take fifteen minutes."

Feeney unlocked the back of the van and hopped up inside. Each cell, or locker, had its own lock. From the outside, you couldn't tell it was there. You had to slide a little lever here and pull another one there and the lock was exposed. The door looked like a seam in the wall.

Maddy felt the cool air as the door to her locker was opened. She began shaking, terrified of what was to happen next. She felt the straps being undone about her then her body pulled out of the locker.

The chain was still affixed to her ankles and she stumbled as she tried to take a step. Feeney pulled her along gently until she was at the edge of the truck. He then pushed her forward and she fell onto Chuckie's shoulder. Chuckie let her down then walked her over to a steel door. He left her standing there.

The girl was totally disorientated. Not to be fastened to anything, or inside anything, was a strange sensation. Her wrists were affixed to her sides. She clenched her useless hands in frustration. Maddy felt someone bump up against her. It was naked flesh, an arm, or a shoulder. A few more minutes passed then she was moving ahead again. She stepped over a little bump and stopped. She proceeded once more then was carried down a short flight of stairs.

Maddy had entered the holding area of what was essentially a slave transfer station. She had passed through two steel doors. The room she was let into was long and narrow. Low cages lined one side, twenty in all. There was a long pipe that ran the length of the room, along the ten foot high ceiling, with big knobs at either end. A ring passed around the pipe, which was attached to a chain. The chain descended to where it was attached to the steel collar of a naked, raven haired young woman. She was kneeling on the floor, her head bowed.

Feeney addressed her. "I want you to put these three cunts in cages. Water them and change their pads, and put the gags and hoods back in when you're finished. Got that?"

"Yes, Master," the supine young girl intoned without looking up.

Feeney spoke to Chuckie, "Come on, let's get a drink." The two men left, carefully double locking each steel door.

The three girls could hear murmurings going on outside them, but nothing else. Maddy felt herself being pulled along by what felt like a feminine hand. She walked about fifteen feet then was pushed to her knees. There was a short cessation of motion during which she felt a naked body lean up against her. She was then pushed backward. She fell over and into something. The hands pushed at her legs, stuffing them in. Maddy tried to rise to her knees. Her head hit something.

She moved forward and felt cold steel wires. She was caged!

The black haired slave girl took her time, but remorselessly caged each of the women in turn. When she was done, she walked slowly to the other end of the room, her chain tailing behind her, sliding along the pipe attached to the ceiling. At the rear of the room, she retrieved a cart holding a plastic bottle of water, a bucket, soap and some sponges, a dry cotton towel, a container of lotion, and some pads. She filled the bucket with water from a steel spigot and trudged back to where the three girls were imprisoned.

Allison was the caretaker of this little dungeon. Out of the twenty cages, seven of them were filled with bound, naked, gagged and hooded young women. Now there were ten. Allison's job was to care for these incipient slaves in transit. She had been here a long time, longer than she could remember. This dungeon was her complete world. The only human contact, other than that of her slavish charges, was when one of the masters came down to fuck or beat her. She preferred being fucked.

Maddy sensed her cage door opening and felt herself pulled forward. Hands fiddled with the hood over her head then removed it.

She was shocked to see the naked and chained young woman. She noted with apprehension the long chain that connected the woman to the bar on the ceiling. The girl loosened Maddy's gag and removed it from her mouth. Maddy was overwhelmed with relief to be freed of the brutal instrument. She sucked greedily at the bottle of tepid water the girl presented to her mouth. The water tasted like heaven as it soothed her parched throat. When the girl withdrew the bottle, Maddy tried to speak to her.

"Where am I?" she asked, her fear evident in her voice. The black haired girl didn't reply, but unleashed a violent slap across Maddy's face.

"Shut up!" she ordered forcefully.

Maddy's head was turned by the blow and she felt the sting of the girl's hand on her face. "Oh!" she cried. The girl pulled on Maddy's collar and brought her back to facing her. Without speaking, she proffered the gag back to Maddy's mouth. Tearfully, in acknowledgement of her powerless state, Maddy accepted it.

The girl pushed Maddy backward into the cage and motioned for her to turn around. Maddy knew what was wanted. She had turned her back this way many times to Louise. Maddy placed her head down and spread her thighs. She felt the cotton pad being removed from between her legs. Allison used the sponge to apply cold, soapy water to her loins. She was dried with the towel and soothing lotion applied. Another pad was installed. The girl pulled her around again and reapplied the noxious hood.

An hour after the black haired girl had finished her attention to the new girls, Feeney returned. Chuckie had gone off to find some poontang as he called it. There was plenty for sale in this part of town. Feeney was in the market for a blow job and bed. He walked slowly down the corridor of naked and confined women. He wasn't interested in the slave girl tonight. He could have her anytime. All the girls were appealing. Their hoods and ear plugs made them oblivious to his observation of them. Most of them lay listlessly in their cages, waiting for their next feeding or a cold shower from a hose wielded by the black haired girl. A few nodded and swayed their heads and torsos rhythmically. They were starved for sensation, and even the feeling of their bodies in motion was better than nothing. It was similar to the behavior of caged animals, creatures incapable of understanding the nature and purpose of their captivity.

Feeney stopped by Maddy's cage. The tall, young woman was cruelly confined in the small cage. She was lying on her side, her knees up to her chest. Feeney recalled her thick red lips from the night before. She had tempting, large breasts. She would do.

He called for the slave girl to drag Maddy from her cage. When Maddy felt the prodding of the girl's hands, she recoiled. The girl began to pull on her arm, and Maddy, realizing the fruitlessness of resistance, allowed herself to be guided to the cage door and out.

Maddy felt cold, coarse concrete on her knees. The hood was removed and she saw the cruel face of her tormentor of the night before. He was smiling at her. The black haired girl knelt next to Maddy, awaiting instructions.

"Get her gag off," Feeney told the slave girl. She unbuckled it from behind Maddy's head and pulled the leather plug free. Feeney loosened his fly.

"Time for a blow job, slut," he said to Maddy. "You know how to give a blow job, don't you?"

Grimacing, Maddy nodded. She knew better than to talk. She looked nervously around her. It was the first time she had gotten a good look at the dungeon. The sight of nine other naked and caged women unnerved her. The dark grey, windowless, cinderblock walls oppressed her. What is all this for? What is going to happen to me?

Feeney had his long, skinny cock out and was manipulating it to hardness. He looked at Maddy coldly. "Get your lips on my meat, cunt," he ordered.

Maddy edged herself closer to the tall, thin man. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She opened her mouth and tentatively circled her lips around the man's now hard joint. There was no sense in fighting him.

Maddy abhorred pain and was sure a painful beating would be the price of resistance. The sooner she started, the sooner she would be done.

Feeney addressed the slave girl. "Rub her cunt while she sucks me off," he told her. Maddy, the man's long cock fully in her mouth, felt the black haired girl's body press up against hers. She felt her hand snake between her thighs and seize her nether lips. A long, boney finger pierced them and drew itself along the length of her slit, coming to rest on the little nubbin of pleasure at the apex to her sex.

As she felt the girl gently tickle her clit, Maddy moaned with unexpected pleasure.

Maddy tried to concentrate on her unpleasant task. She bobbed her head back and forth, teasing the shaft of Feeney's cock with her tongue. Her sophomore boyfriend, Buddy, had taught her how to suck a cock, and she had built on the knowledge gained from him over the years. She liked to use her hands to coax the hot sperm from the little sac and hold the shaft steady while she swirled her lips and her tongue over the bulbous head. Even without the use of her hands, though, she soon had Feeney moaning with pleasure.

The black haired girl's efforts were having their effect on Maddy, too. She could feel the girl's breasts rubbing up against her arm as she pleasured Maddy's now moist and soft pussy with her hand. Maddy tried to suppress the heat creeping up from her loins. She didn't want to come for this cruel bastard. She wanted to preserve some dignity, but it wasn't to be.

Maddy felt a surge of heat roll over her. Her eyes were clamped shut in an attempt to block out her dismal surroundings and the image of the man whose cock was invading her mouth. Feeney placed his hands on her head and began to thrust into her. He ruthlessly rammed his cock against the back of her mouth. Bit by bit, Maddy's blood rose. Finally, all else was forgotten except the pleasure she was receiving from the hand on and in her hot gash and the hard meat in her mouth. Maddy started to cry out, short, high pitched cries. When her cunt began to throb and contract, her orgasm upon her, she moaned and thrust her hips forward. Her body shuddered, her breasts swayed and jerked. It was too much for Feeney and his cock began to spurt its hot load into Maddy's mouth. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" he cried, as the shocks of his climax reverberated through his body.

Feeney patted Maddy's cheek lightly. "Good girl," he said. He nodded to Allison and she pulled Maddy back over to her cage.

Maddy's eyes were filled with tears as the gag was reinserted and the hood descended over her head. She allowed herself to be pushed back into the cage.

Maddy went through several cycles of being washed and fed. Once a day she was taken to the rear of the room and given an enema. Her hands remained constantly confined to the leather belt that encircled her waist. Allison fed the women once a day, which necessitated the removal of the hood and gag. On the second day, Maddy noted the cage next to hers, the one that had contained the skinny blond, the screamer, was empty. The next day it was full again.

The days were long and enervating. Maddy could hear the muffled sound of what appeared to be random activity in the cellar dungeon, but had little clue as to what actually was going on. For what seemed hours at a time, there was no sound at all, as the plugs in her ears blocked the stifled murmurings that emerged from the prisoners' gags.

Once, she thought she heard the screaming of a woman in pain, begging and pleading for mercy.

The only real activity was when she was washed and fed by the black haired 'trustee'. Maddy didn't make the mistake of speaking to her again, but she couldn't help crying each time the girl proffered back the heinous gag and reinstalled the evil hood that blocked out all sight and almost all sound. Back in her cell after being washed and fed, Maddy scrunched her body into the smallest ball she could make and sobbed.

On what she took to be the fourth day, Maddy was dragged from her cage. She felt the presence of men around her and she could hear their low toned voices, muffled by the plugs in her ears. She hadn't been used since her first day in this hellhole, but she knew she was helpless and somehow her kidnapping and cruel imprisonment was a prelude to her eventual rape and ravishment. Why else would she be caged and isolated amidst other naked and bound women? She realized the men who had bought her from her kidnappers were slavers. Where and whom she would serve was unknown to her, but the reality of her dismal future had sunk in over hours of silent, enforced contemplation.

Maddy had thought of how she might be saved. She thought of her rich uncle in New York. Maybe, somehow he could discover what had happened to her and purchase her freedom. Maybe the police, the FBI, someone, would track down her kidnappers and save her. Maybe she could find some way to escape.

During her confinement, Maddy went over in her mind time and again, the last moments of her freedom. She could still see the face of the old woman smiling at her, and cursed herself for a fool for having gotten out of the car, for not calling the police. She cursed herself for her weakness in failing to fight off her kidnappers, then for abjectly sucking that man's prick, the one who had bought her, and not biting it off.

The days were long and incredibly lonely. The only face she saw was the stone hard features of the black haired girl. She yearned to talk to someone, share her sorrow, her hopelessness. She couldn't even use her hands to scratch herself when she itched. She didn't know whether it was night or day. She could only count her feedings, and she couldn't even tell how many times a day she was fed or whether she was fed at regular intervals.

When Maddy realized she was being taken somewhere by strange men, she felt her stomach turn. Was this to be the moment of truth where all would be revealed? Or was she merely being led to some torture chamber where she would be abused unmercifully?

She felt a strong, masculine hand on her arm. Her ankles were rehobbled and she was led from the room, shuffling along like a convict on a chain gang.

The frightened girl was led back into the receiving area where she had been unloaded from the van. There her hood was removed, and she saw before her what appeared to be a long, silver coffin. Its lid was off and there was no question but that it was meant for her.

Maddy, for the first time in her captivity, began to struggle in earnest. She didn't know that five of the caged girls had gone before her and their aluminum containers were already stacked on the truck.

All she knew was that they were going to lock her in a coffin.

The men who were handling Maddy were well prepared for her resistance. All of the girls reacted the same way when they saw the foreboding coffin-like object. The men held on to Maddy's arms and pulled her toward her apparent doom. In fact, the coffin was a shipping container. It had a series of straps and belts meant to keep its occupant quiescent. A specially designed mask would serve the salutary purposes of silencing the packaged woman and maintaining a flow of oxygen.

Maddy was unceremoniously dragged to a small padded stool and pushed to her knees in front of it. The poor girl was wailing and sobbing like there was no tomorrow. From Maddy's point of view, from what she could discern, there would be no tomorrow. Her strange journey and stranger confinement was about to end in a burial alive!

The men pushed Maddy down over the padded stool and held her still. Due to her frantic state, it took three of them. She felt a jab in her right buttock and the sensation of a drug being injected into her body. It took only a few seconds and the girl's head began to fog. She was held down over the stool for several minutes. By the time the men released her, her limbs had gone limp and her eyes had rolled back into her head. Her excited and futile wailings had been reduced to a rhythmic, sonorous moan.

When they were satisfied they would meet with no further resistance, Maddy was carried over to her awaiting shipping case.

They released her ankles from the hobble, removed her collar and the leather harness and bracelets she had been wearing, and lay her inside the shiny crate's padded interior. Her gag was removed and a mask with a wide, solid mouthpiece that filled her oral cavity, was affixed to her face. It was similar to the mouthpieces used by scuba divers.

Maddy's head was secured as was the rest of her body. The tube from the mask led outside the crate and was connected to a small oxygen tank.

After the men made sure the mask was operating properly, one of the men brushed alcohol on the underside of Maddy's left arm and slid a catheter into a vein. The catheter was then attached to a tube running from a bottle affixed to the lid of the container. An adjustment was made and a slow, steady drip of Demerol began to flow into Maddy's body. After checking her bindings and confirming the proper operation of the intravenous flow, the men fastened the lid, locking it firmly in place. When the top was secured, it formed a hermetic seal. Nothing could get in or out except through the narrow flexible tube connected to the mask.

The coffin-like container was lifted onto the bed of the truck where it joined its mates. The air line was reattached to a larger tank that served all of the containers.

After three more containers were loaded and stored on the truck, the signal was given to prepare to leave. A tarp was tied over the nine gleaming canisters and several dozen large boxes of work uniforms were loaded, covering and concealing the feminine cargo. The door to the outside rose and the truck pulled up the long, winding ramp to the street level.

The truck's destination was a small loading dock not far from the airport. When the truck backed up to the dock, two men emerged and, after unloading the boxes of clothing, placed the containers, one by one, on a dolly and wheeled them to a large air cargo container sitting on a flatbed truck. The interior of the container was built out to the length of the aluminum crates containing the drugged women. There were ten slots in it. The men took the coffin-like crates and slid them into the slots, feet first. They were a perfect fit. The crates were locked in and the air hoses were connected to nozzles that led to a large air tank which constituted the base of the storage unit. A heavy steel cover was affixed to the end of the unit and bolted on, effectively sealing in the women. The steel doors were slammed shut and a forged inspector's seal was applied. Two hours later, a heavy duty forklift loaded the air cargo container into the gaping rear of a large cargo plane. A few minutes later, the plane was in the air.

Prev Next




BONDAGE PICTURES

eXTReMe Tracker
^ TO TOP