From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:09:51 1997 From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage Subject: Doc's Orders: An Introduction Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:09:51 GMT Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net Message-ID: <33580706.2085831@news-s01.ca.us.ibm.net> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.1/16.230 NNTP-Posting-Host: 139.92.44.66 Lines: 22 Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!sprint!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!rill.news.pipex.net!pipex!azure.xara.net!xara.net!newsfeed.uk.ibm.net!ibm.net!news-m01.ny.us.ibm.net!ibm.net!news1.ibm.net!139.92.44.66 About Doc's Orders ================== It all started with "Captured Caroline" my long term project for A.S.S. Because of various rewrites I had a number of scenes left over, scenes that it was impossible to reuse in the current CC storyline. So I created "Scattered Scenes" a methord of reusing these scenes by tying them together into a single independant story. The first of these call "The Hitch Hikers Guide to Slavery" deliberately finished part way through a story. This is because "Scattered Scenes" were never meant to be complete but like Suki's Images just bit's and pieces of erotica. But enough people wrote in wanting more. So I've expanded "Hitch Hikers" Into Doc's orders. Enjoy..... Quin From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:09:51 1997 From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap1 "The Hitchhikers Guide to Slavery" (Mf/ff, B&D, NC Kidnap) Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:09:51 GMT Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net Message-ID: <3358074a.2153169@news-s01.ca.us.ibm.net> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.1/16.230 NNTP-Posting-Host: 139.92.44.66 Lines: 1588 Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!sprint!ix.netcom.com!netcom.net.uk!azure.xara.net!xara.net!newsfeed.uk.ibm.net!ibm.net!news-m01.ny.us.ibm.net!ibm.net!news1.ibm.net!139.92.44.66 ************************************************************ STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1997 tmquin@ibm.net ************************************************************ Doc's Orders by Quin ================== Chapter 1 "The Hitchhikers Guide to Slavery" ===================================== I was returning from Vermont cursing Doc and his timing. I admit I *had* promised to look after his delivery problems personally. I can even vaguely remember taking his retainer but I hadn't agreed to work Easter week and especially not during my first vacation in three years. For God sake my new Snowboard had hardly even been christened. I told myself that whatever the job was it had better be good . I wondered just why I had dropped everything to head back. I could still remember Doc's phone call that morning, his British accent so polite yet so demanding. "But Charles old boy I thought we had a deal. You know that I wouldn't ask if the assignment didn't require your special flair. Besides I believe Kitten is preparing a special dinner and you *know* how much she looks forward to having you over...." Kitten, he knew I couldn't refuse her. She was my invisible leash, his guarantee that he could reel me back at any time. So here I was cruising the back roads of Worcester County MA on an cold overcast Easter evening wondering just why he needed me so desperately. I was so caught up in events that at first I didn't even notice them. I suppose we've all seen hitchers from time to time, huddled by the side of the road waving those pathetic little signs. They look at you with such hope as you approach that it's almost impossible to drive away without feeling a complete heel. I mean, most of the time when I'm working I'm simply not allowed to stop, but somehow that doesn't make me feel any less guilty. I moment I saw those two I could tell there was something odd about them. There was no sign, no warm clothes, hell they didn't even signal until I was almost past them. I glanced in my mirror. Two young girls alone and in the middle of nowhere. In some countries it would be a trap, an obvious ploy of carjackers or robbers but this was New England and I doubted it was anything that crude. Still, five years of Advanced Recon teaches you to take nothing at face value. I pulled up a good distance ahead of them and picked my spot so that any potential ambusher would have to break cover to reach me. In my mirror I watched as they ran up. The leading girl looked to be sixteen or seventeen, well built, perhaps five nine with shoulder length blonde hair. She was dressed in a waist length leather jacket and a knee length plad skirt. There seemed something familiar about the outfit but in the dimming light I couldn't make it out. In any case I doubted that it was very warm. Still, at least she'd thought to wear a sensible pair of shoes. The pack she carried was small, good for perhaps a couple of days and the lack of a bedroll or obvious tent confirmed that these were not ardent outdoors men. Off in the distance her friend seemed to have prepared a little better. I got the impression of a mop of dark hair over a yellow waterproof jacket, below that she wore jeans and a pair of ankle boots. I swear that I stopped purely for humanitarian reasons, I wouldn't have left a dog out on a night like that. However, by the time they reached me I admit I'd started to see the possibilities in the situation. I watched in the mirror as the blonde drew level; I could tell what she was thinking, youngish guy on his own in a large old car. She hesitated, stopped and looked back towards her friend. I knew this area quite well, Doc's place was a few miles away. This road was quiet, I figured they'd probably been here a while. As her friend came up I decided to up the pressure. I wound the window down. "You girls are lucky I came along," I said in a friendly voice, "Not much traffic comes this way after dark and that storm will be here real soon." The blonde looked up. It was overcast, showers were a certainty though I think the word *storm* would be pushing things. While she thought about it I looked her friend over. The large brown eyes and curly dark brown hair betrayed her Latin ancestry, her skin however had a pale almost porcelain quality. I guessed she was about the same age as her friend though the serious expression on her face made her appear more mature. The blonde looked at her friend obviously waiting for her opinion. The dark girl glanced at me suspiciously. She seemed the practical one of the pair something she confirmed a minute later when she silently shook her head. Time for more pressure, "Don't have all day ladies, hell you haven't even said were you want to go." "W...worcester," The blonde stammered. "I'm going to Bolton," I said firmly as if I expected them to argue, "But I could drop you by I-91. You can get a lift into Worcester easily from there." I looked around, "Well it would be easier than gettin' one around here." The blonde looked beseechingly at her friend. I watched as the dark haired girl did the calculation. Two of them, one of me. I got the feeling that if she'd been on her own she'd have waited for something less risky, but her friend was already cold and if they stayed here much longer they would get wet. She nodded, proving that perhaps she wasn't that smart after all. The blonde sighed thankfully and headed towards the trunk. "No good going there sweetheart," I said, " The trunk's full. You'll have to put your stuff on the back seat." She flushed a little when I called her "sweetheart" and she seemed to hesitate a moment. I smiled, "You can dump those packs on the seat behind me. One of you ride up front, makes it easier to talk." They looked at each other. I could tell that neither really wanted to talk, but if that was the price of the lift.... The blonde glanced at her friend. The brunette nodded again. The packs were thrown on the back seat as I suggested and the blonde came forward to the passenger door. Part one was complete; I had separated them. The blonde struggled out of her jacket and dumped it on top of the packs, underneath she wore a tight polo neck sweater in a dark brown color. Once I saw the complete outfit I immediately recognized it as the uniform of an exclusive Catholic boarding school. The sweater may have been the regulation style and color but she'd obviously taken some trouble to ensure it flattered her figure. I waited expecting the brunette to do the same but the yellow coat stayed firmly in place. She waited until the blonde had got in next to me then opened the back door and slipped into the seat behind her friend. I could see she was going to be difficult. "Hi," I said offering my hand to the blonde. "Charlie Parker." She didn't take the offered hand but instead looked me over. "Beth," She said at length, "And that's Maria." No comments, no jazz fans here I thought. I also noticed that she didn't give any surnames. I glanced over at Maria who just nodded politely, her body tight and weary. If what I was planning was going to work I needed to get Maria off her guard a little. I noticed that she'd positioned herself close to the door though she'd been sensible enough to use the seat belt. I smiled. "Doesn't say much your friend." I said as we pulled away. "We had a bad experience a couple of hours ago. A truck driver.... He said he'd give us a lift but..." "Oh I see. I was going to ask how two nice young ladies from Saint Mary's came to be so far from the beaten track." They both stiffened, "Saint Mary's?" Interesting reaction I thought; I decided to probe a little further. "Yes I recognized the uniform. You *are* from there right?" The tension seemed to mount even more, in the corner of my eye I saw the glances back and forth. Something was going on between these two, something that had led them to a back road miles from Boston. Whatever it was they didn't want to be identified with it, had hoped for some anonymity. "You recognized the uniform...?" Beth began. I could tell that she was about to deny it, claim I'd made a mistake. Saint Mary's was an exclusive school, the kind of place that the daughters of congressmen and diplomats attended. Such girls have been told all their lives that they are better that the rest of us, taught to use their wits and breeding against their enemies. I'd found that out from bitter experience. I decided I needed to take the upper hand. Time to head her off. "My wife's an old girl." I said sweetly, "The uniform's been updated a little since her day but the Tartan in the skirt is unmistakable." "Tartan...." Beth began. The plad was distinctive, the family Tartan of one of the schools founders. Few outside the Ivy League Set even knew the school existed never mind be able to identify the Tartan on sight. I could feel Beth looking me over. St. Mary's girls go on to marry into the best families in the country, I didn't seem to fit the part. Still it's hard to tell these days, I once stood next to Bruce Willis in a store in San Fran and I was probably better dressed than he was. I could be a rock star, a corporate robber baron slumming at his New England retreat, any number of things. I felt the tension in the car increase still more, was I *somebody*. Time to let her off the hook. "Check the yearbook for '82 when you get back. Her maiden name was Jennifer O'Neil. Pretty redhead, don't think she got any special distinctions. She was a day girl there for four years." Beth relaxed a little, day girls were usually on scholarships, normal middle class Boston girls that the school took in to maintain their Christian piety. Beth didn't say anything but her body language spoke volumes. She'd been afraid. Afraid that we'd meet at some Alumni party, afraid that perhaps I moved in the same exclusive circles she did. Afraid that their presence here might somehow make it back to the school or daddy?? Seemed reasonable. She cleared her throat. "Your wife was a day girl?" I caught that tone in her voice, that upper-class whine. Five minutes ago she'd been a little girl freezing her butt off by the side of the road, an object of some pity even for me. Now after a few minutes in the warm all her old instincts were reasserting themselves. My heart hardened and the fate I'd decided on for these two was set. "Yes that's right," I said, "She was on a scholarship. She says that it's a great school, though she did take some ragging." I watched her reaction, feeling the tension bubble burst. I was no one important, there was little chance that I would mention their presence here to anyone they needed to worry about. My suspicions confirmed I felt it was time to change the subject. "So this trucker gave you a bad time?" Now her temperature was back up Beth's ego was back with a vengeance. "He was an awful man, said that he'd take us to Worcester straight away but once we were out of town he started to change. He pulled off the Interstate and started making lewd suggestions. When we wouldn't do what he wanted he threw us out." I took this in for a second. The place I'd found them was quiet and there were large numbers of wooded side roads big enough to take a semi. Friend trucker probably thought he had a party on his hands and tried to get some privacy. I had no doubt that these two had led him on. Despite what you see on TV truckers are not usually random maniacs. Most work for big companies and those companies run a virtual cartel. No working Joe was likely to risk being blacklisted for two little tarts like these. If he'd turned off it was because *someone* had given him the idea that he would be rewarded. Still I kept my thoughts to myself. "So what kind of lewd suggestions did this guy make?" Beth seemed uncomfortable, "Well you know?" I shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't," I said, "The only young lady *I* make lewd comments to these days is my wife. I take it from your reactions that these were of a sexual nature?" Beth nodded indignantly. "And how old are you girls?" "Sixteen," Beth said. I sounded shocked. "I hope you took the guy's number," I said, "He sounds a complete sleezeball." "We did," Beth said proudly, " And when we get back we intend to send his company a letter." An anonymous letter I thought. After all they wouldn't want to have to explain what they were doing hitchhiking to Worcester. Doc's was now only twenty or thirty miles away. Soon my relationship with these two charming ladies would have to get a little unpleasant. I intended to put that off as long as possible, every mile closer to Doc's was a bonus. To keep them distracted I started chatting, asking about the school, dropping the names of a few of the teachers that had been there when I'd lived nearby. As I'd expected Maria said nothing, she just sat behind watching. Beth was a fountain of information and though I got no closer to the underlying mystery of what they were doing here or exactly who they were she dropped enough clues for me to start piecing things together. Beth's father was a lawyer, some medium ranking partner in a large Boston firm. Not especially ambitious he seemed content to bide his time and wait for his more senior colleagues to die. Maria's father was a banker of some kind, working out of the country for Chase Manhattan. I felt the disapproval from Maria as Beth let that slip but there was little she could do. Beth had been raised in an world were what you did wasn't so important as who you were and who you knew. Name dropping was like second nature to her. Too young to have much influence herself she relied on hints about her access to power to impress. I glanced at her. She was a little silly cunt who was about to forefill a fantasy I'd had for twenty years. I started to move towards Doc's place. Having been in the Service I tend to think that everyone has the same sense of direction that I do and I confess that I'd expected some comment. However, they didn't seem to notice, at least Beth kept talking and Maria kept silent as before. I was starting to think I could take them all the way to Doc's door when Maria spoke. "We should have reached the Interstate by now!" It was an accusation, a challenge of sorts. To some extent I liked Beth, she was stupid, arrogant and vain but wasn't really that unfriendly. Maria seemed to be a complete bitch, a real ball breaker, it would be interesting to see what happened with her. "Yep," I said but kept driving. Beth turned towards me eyes wide with fear. "Relax," I said, "I'm not like your trucker friend. I'm not about to leave you two by an on ramp in the middle of nowhere. There's an oasis a few miles further down the Interstate you can wait in the warm there and you'll have a better chance of getting a lift on to Worcester." Beth, the stupid bitch, really wanted to believe, "An oasis?" "A truck stop. Hell I couldn't go back to the wife and tell her that I left two St. Mary's girls to fend for themselves on a night like this." Beth was satisfied but as expected Maria was more cautious, "If this place exists why not use the Interstate to get to it?" she asked. I shrugged. "That section's a toll road," I said. "I'm willing to help you girls out but I don't see why I should pay for doing it!" That shut Maria up for now but I could tell the honeymoon was over. The next time I needed to adjust the lights I reached over and threw an unmarked switch near the driver's door. From now on the clock was ticking, it would only take them a few minutes to realize what I'd done then all hell would break loose. Fortunately I knew of a perfect place not so far from here. It was quiet and private and if I could reach it my troubles would be over. If........ If is a million dollar word, it sometimes means yes, sometimes no. In this case it seemed to mean *yes* because despite deviating from the route the girls didn't notice. In fact it was only when I pulled off into the woods that they finally realized their danger and of course by then it was far too late. Surprisingly it was Beth who reacted first. "What the... What are you doing?" she demanded. I smiled, "End of the line......." Beth struggled. Her hand flashed down to the release button of her seat belt. I watched as she pressed the little red button. Nothing happened. She tried again, and again. I watched amused as she pounded it harder but still it didn't release. About this time she tried to move forward, but the seat belt reel was locked and she was pinned to her seat. I glanced at Maria who was starting to come to the same realization, that the seat belts were somehow locked and effectively strapped them to their seats. That's when the screaming started. Beth let rip, no surprise there I'd marked her as a mouthy bitch from the start. The big surprise was how little fuss Maria made; she just looked on with hollow eyes. I suppose it's the problem with being too cerebral, you can't deal with sudden changes that well. Still it gave me a little more time so I endeavored to use it. I reached under my seat and found the small cloth bag I'd velcro'd there. I don't think Beth even saw the handcuffs until it was too late. She was so busy thrashing about and pulling on the belt. I had her first wrist locked before she even knew she was in trouble. She struggled a little as I passed the other bracelet through the lap belt and caught her free hand but by then it was over. With her hands chained to her waist she couldn't stop me from forcing the ball gag into her screaming mouth. I tightened the strap and the car was suddenly quiet. She made a few muffled sounds and I could hear Maria whispering a prayer but compared to seconds before all was silent. Beth started to weep. Facing me she tried to say something but all that emerged from behind the gag was a muffled nonsense. I couldn't tell what she said but her body language, hands clutched together, eyes wide told me the story. Beth was begging for her life. I felt a wave of satisfaction. Still she could wait for now. My first priority was making Maria "comfortable". The seat belts had been rigged by a friend of mine. Tiny solenoids activated by the dashboard switch locked the buckle and reel mechanisms on all the passenger belts leaving the driver free to move. I'd only used it once before on more than one girl and that experience had led me to ask for a number of refinements. Leaving the car I walked around to Maria's door. Maria was still struggling, though being an intelligent girl she probably only did it out of habit. If she'd wanted to she could have reached over and ungagged Beth, but she didn't probably because she knew it wouldn't do any good. Beth had been very vocal for most of the last five minutes. No one had come. The bag had one more gag and three pairs of cuffs left. I got some cuffs ready then opened Maria's door. Pushing a button on my key fob I was rewarded by a loud click as Maria's seat belt disengaged. For a second she paused, then with remarkable speed she sprang from the car. I grabbed but caught the coat. We struggled for a second then she managed to slip out of it and ran for the trees. Throwing the coat aside I started after her. I wasn't worried, her only chance was to make for the road and hope she could find someone to flag down before I got to her. She was heading the wrong way. She was good, probably a track star at school, but here she was in my world. No amount of sand track practice can prepare you for running on broken ground at night. She's almost made the trees when an exposed root brought her down. I needed no further encouragement, I was on her in an instant and her hands were cuffed behind her before she'd taken her first breath. Only then, when all else was lost did she start to scream. Even then it seemed a half hearted effort. Like her struggles in the car I felt it was as much to be doing *something* as it was a serious attempt to escape.. I forced the ball gag into her mouth and tightened the staps. Now she finally admitted defeat and stopped struggling. We waited a few minutes to get our breath back. Then I pulled her up and dragged her back to the car. As we got closer I could hear Beth's muffled sobs. Now they were both gagged I doubted any sounds could carry beyond the first line of trees. Beth looked up and I smiled at the look of despair that flickered across her face. I think she really believed Maria would get away. The two girls held a brief gagged "conversation" that became rapidly boring. Smiling at Beth I dragged Maria towards the back of the car. I paused by the trunk and opened it. There was my bag and snow board which I tossed aside for the moment. Maria struggled but I was no longer in a mood to play so I slammed the heel of my foot hard against the back of her leg hearing the muffled squeal and feeling her collapse to the ground. Next to the spare wheel was a larger bag with more supplies. Plucking it out I turned to find Maria trying to crawl away. Grabbing her by the shoulders I carried her the few feet to her discarded coat and dumped her on it. Then I opened my bag and went to work. I used a couple of straps to fasten her legs together temporarily at knees and ankles. This was just to stop her struggling too much as I applied the duct tape. I started at her ankles winding the tape tightly around her legs until I reached the knees. These I left free as I wanted to be able to bend her legs but I wrapped another band of tape halfway up her thighs to pinion the top of her legs. Wrists and forearms were similarly bound. Like Beth, Maria had been wearing a polo necked sweater underneath her raincoat and while duct tape over jeans made a viable bond I was a little worried about the wool stretching. So recovering the straps from her legs I reused them above and bellow her elbows to strengthen her bonds. Maria had nice tits and now that her arms were pulled back they were thrust out in a most appealing way. I paused a second to have a quick grope and listened to her muffled protests. She was still a little too loud for my taste. Rolling her over I removed the ball gag and replaced it with an inflatable bladder. I used a small pump to inflate this until her cheeks were distended and her eyes bulged. Satisfied, I secured it in place first with layer after layer of duct tape and finally with a tight Ace bandage. Another grope test found Maria very effectively silenced. I finished up by using a couple of straps to hog-tie her wrists to her ankles. She complained a little, or at least tried to but Maria was a realist, despite her little show of defiance she'd realized it was over the moment she'd been unable to unfasten the seat belt. All she wanted now was to survive all this. I admit she gave me some problems when she realized she was destined for the trunk but hog-tied she was in no position to stop me. Once I'd got her nicely tucked away inside I threw her coat on top and closed the lid. My bags and snow board joined their packs on the back seat and I turned my attention back to Beth. I'd left the Service just after Desert Storm following a fraternization problem between myself and a female Navy officer. We aren't talking Tailhook here, in fact she outranked me. To be honest as we were on our own time and there were no husbands or wives to get hurt I never saw it as anyone's business but our own. They say that dress whites and Marine green don't mix but we did ok there for a while. Still the Brass didn't see it that way and decided someone had to pay. I was on my final tour intending to Re-up later that year so I was the obvious candidate. She was young and ambitious I was old and cynical so I cut a deal with the Brass. No charges, I just left at the end of my final tour and saved her from the scuttlebutt. When I got out I'd kicked around for a while but to be honest I'd been in too long to be good at anything else. Mercenary work just didn't interest me. Hell, I'd fought and some of my buddies had died to make the New World Order and I didn't feel like helping to break it up again. I came across Doc in a gambling house, the old bastard was one hell of a poker player, and we'd got to talking. Well, he'd been buying so I did most of the talking. In the end he asked if I wanted to make some good money for a simple delivery job. I'd thought he meant drugs and had been a little reluctant to agree but I was low on funds by then. In the end I just figured that anyone taking that stuff deserved what they got so I'd agreed. We went back to his hotel room were he introduced me to a beautiful Asian girl called Mi Lin. I figured Mi was a hooker he'd hired for the night so wasn't so surprised when he offered me her services. I admit that those little oriental chicks always pushed my buttons and this one was so willing. I'd been around the world many times and used the local pro's in just about every country you can imagine but none were as eager to please as Mi Lin. Some don't to oral, some don't do anal. Mi never said no to anything and in addition she had this cute habit of calling me *Master* all the time. She was literally the best fuck I'd ever had. The next day Doc turned up and I figured it was time to pay the piper. I'd expected him to give me a briefcase or something. Instead he told me to deliver Mi Lin to a cat house in New Mexico. It would take two or three days and of course I could use her as I saw fit during that time. I'd expected Mi to object but she seemed quite happy. It was then that Doc told me what he did for a living. Doc was a trainer of slaves. He could take any normal healthy woman and turn her into an obedient sex machine in a little under six weeks. It was hard to believe but Doc claimed Mi was living proof. I don't know what Mi had been doing two months before but now she was content to fuck and suck; all night if necessary. I'd taken her on the trip to New Mexico half expecting her to jump ship at the first opportunity but she seemed happy to be going along almost as if she looked forward to life as a cheap whore. At first I couldn't see how Doc's business worked. I'd been around a bit and knew the score. Hundreds of runaways flood into New York every year and there are pimps and pushers at every street corner just waiting for them. Want a sex slave? Just pluck a girl off the street, beat her a little, pump her full of smack until she's hooked and put her to work. That first year all I did was deliver slaves and Doc paid me a fortune to be a glorified taxi driver. I couldn't see how he made his money. Who would pay for such a thing when junk and intimidation was cheaper? Then as I experienced more of Doc's girls I began to see. First they were so willing, so responsive to a man's needs. While you're with them you are literally the center of their world. They loved sex, in fact they seem to physically *Need* it. When they look at your dick the hunger in those eyes is real. When you fuck them, they really do enjoy it, really do cum and cum. There is no deception, she isn't faking or making out her shopping list while you fuck her. Doc's girl's like you, like what you say and who you are, are happy just to be with you. Any man no matter what he looks like feels like a prince. Then of course there's the sex. In terms of oral, they have mouths more talented than those of twenty year Las Vegas strip girls, they can hold a man at the edge of ecstasy for a lifetime. When they fuck it's like nothing you've ever known, they know how to use their body weight and internal muscles to best effect sometimes overloading you with sensation. Best of all of course they'll do anything you say. I began to see how a brothel owner could corner the market, reach the point where he could force his competition out of business. Best of all Doc's girls could continue to command top dollar for years after a normal girl would be forced to retire. They may be initially more expensive but Doc's slaves outlasted dozens of drugged up runaways. After I'd been working for Doc for about a year he asked me if I wanted to try recruiting, that is finding women and girls for Doc to process. We usually picked runaways or prostitutes, women who could go missing without being noticed. Occasionally though we got special orders though Doc's contacts. Men who wanted their ex-wives, jilting lovers or pushy bosses turning into fuck toys. Because of the risks these jobs often paid better that providing a fresh slave. I pulled twenty three kidnappings last year, none of which have ever been reported. I've become the ultimate predator, like a big jungle cat I know my territory and my prey, know what to risk and when. And like a cat I sometimes play with my victims. The moment I'd seen Beth in the full St. Mary's uniform some twenty year old feelings of pain and anger had been rekindled. I knew that somewhere God was laughing. The years disappeared in an instant and I'd known immediately that I had to take them. It may seem unfair that they should pay for someone else's mistake but it did have a certain symmetry. Besides every St. Mary's girl I'd ever met was a total bitch and these two were unlikely to be different. I smiled at Beth who shuffled in her seat as much as the belt would allow. I had something special in store for her and it started with a gag. I reached into the bag and found what I wanted. It was a rubber mouthpiece shaped at the front a little like a boxer's gumshield. One of Doc's perverted friends was a dentist who we called in if a slave needed dental work. Once in a drunken stupor I'd explained this idea to him and the next time I'd visited Doc's a parcel had been waiting for me...... Carefully I filled the gumshield with a special resin. She watched silently probably trying to figure what I was doing. When I was ready I took a strap from the bag and slipped it loosely around her neck. She panicked. She started shaking her head blabbering and crying. It took me a while to understand. "Stop it! I have no intention of strangling you, that isn't what the strap is for. Now cut it out or I'll hit you." She stopped, eyes full of fear. Quickly I unbuckled the ball gag and before she had time to respond shoved the rubber mouthpiece between her teeth. As she shook her head and tried to spit it out I forced one end of the strap under her jaw and the other over her head. Then I tightened it clamping her teeth down on the gumshield. She blubbered, but she couldn't get her mouth open. Next came the cuffs. Up front was good, behind was better. I released her seat belt then one wrist. She tried to resist but her position was hopeless. I pulled a small loop of fishing twine loose from the seat and threaded the cuffs through it before refastening her wrist behind her. She tugged for a while but there was no give. Her hands were fastened behind her to the seat. I replaced the seat belt and pushed the magic button to lock it. She tried to move forward but found that she was strapped to her chair once more. Reaching into the bag I took out a leg clincher, a device that straps around the thighs and clamps the legs together. She struggled and as her legs weren't currently bound it proved quiet an effort to get the clincher on and tightened. However once it was done the effect was perfect. Beth's upper legs were completely immobilized. Lower legs were more of a problem. I have some special boots at home that are ideal for this but of course they are never around when you need them. Instead I had an interesting device. This was a length of a rubber material the outside of which was covered in cotton cloth, the inside with Velcro. Reaching down I wrapped it tightly around her lower legs just above her ankles. Pulling her legs back I fastened an eye on the device to a small hook under the seat. She moaned a little but now she couldn't move her legs at all. Then I removed the chin strap, sitting back so I could see her reaction. For a second her eyes bulged, then she gurgled. I smiled. The resin had set, cementing her teeth to the gumshield and locking her jaws closed. Still her gurgles were too loud. Forcing her lips apart I located the small valve set in the front to the gumshield and inserted the pump I'd used earlier with Maria. As the bladder in the mouthpiece started to inflate Beth's cries became more and more muffled. When I determined she was quiet enough I removed the pump and did a grope test to confirm. Satisfied, I stuck a strip of flesh colored tape over her mouth being very careful to work it around her lips. The tape was thin and but for color differences it was hard to tell were her skin stopped and the tape started. Despite her struggles I managed to apply a layer of foundation makeup to her face and the tape. After a few threats she held still enough for me to apply the next layer. I finished by painting a pair of pouty lips on the tape with lip gloss. Even sitting next to her I couldn't see the join. The tape was invisible, the gloss lips looked like they were her own. Even a few feet away it would be impossible to tell she was gagged. The mouthpiece and tape together were almost a 100% effective you could stand a few feet away and hear nothing. I pulled the plad skirt down over the leg clincher then got out and walked to her door. I glanced inside. Her cuffed hands were behind her back and out of sight. The leg clincher was hidden by the skirt, the binder at her ankles looked like knee socks and of course there was no sign of the gag. A casual observer could see nothing strange. I smiled then got back inside, as a final thought I pulled out a long dark wig and put it on her head. I doubted anyone would remember her but it didn't hurt to make her look a little different. Satisfied I started up and headed for the road. Reaching over I found Beth's breast though the sweater and started to massage it. I became aware of a very faint muffled protest but the engine covered it completely. "Tell me Beth was this what the impudent trucker wanted?" Of course she didn't answer. "Now come on Beth," I said, "You can nod and shake. I'm sure you can answer simple questions. You're helpless, you must realize that. The only hope you and your friend have is to please me and it would please me if you answer. Understand?" She nodded. "Good girl," I said encouragingly. "Now I'll repeat the question. Was this what the trucker wanted?" She nodded and looked down. "Bet he wanted a blow job too didn't he?" She nodded again. "Thought so. You see I doubt his schedule would leave him the time to fuck even one of you so he'd have to take a couple of quickies. Funny isn't it, if you hadn't been so high and mighty and had actually sucked the poor bastard you'd be safe in Worcester by now." She nodded and looked at the floor. A couple of hours ago she'd been horrified at the prospect of giving some poor trucker a blow job. Now I think she'd suck the whole Teamsters Union just to be safe in Worcester. "Tell me Beth do you want to suck me?" She nodded frantically. It hadn't escaped her attention that I'd have to remove the horrible gag for her to blow me. "What about fucking me. Do you want to fuck me Beth?" She hesitated, I smiled. She didn't want to go that far. "Well I'm afraid you are going to fuck me Beth and suck me and do whatever else I want do you want to know why?" Getting no response I decided to tell her anyway. "You see Beth back in '76 I was just a little older than you are now and living just a few miles from your Alma Mater." She looked up. "That's Latin for St. Mary's." I smiled. "Anyway I met this girl, let's call her Jane. She looked a lot like you, about the same size, same blonde hair, same uniform. I loved her. You know they say young love burns the hottest. Are you in love Beth?" She shook her head. "Shame," I said, "Young love is a wonderful thing. You see my mother died when I was very young so when I fell for this girl I fell real hard. We had sex day and night almost continuously every opportunity we got. Jane was one randy bitch, she was never satisfied. Cunt, ass, mouth." I smiled evilly, "You'll see. I wanted to marry her but when I suggested it she backed away and wouldn't even answer my calls. She was real hard to get to while she was at school so I waited for the Easter break. It must be close to twenty years ago today, I'm sure you can see the symmetry Beth. I was just amazed. Anyway I went to her families place in Boston to confront her. She laughed in my face, told me that I was just a toy. A blue collar boy she could just use and discard, worse her father was there and he offered me money to get lost. Told me to take it and blow or he'd get his friend the police commissioner to have me picked up. I left with them laughing at me Beth, feeling helpless and alone. Just as helpless and alone as you feel now." Several cars had passed I'd watched her reaction, felt her despair at knowing that the other drivers could see nothing wrong. "I joined the Marines. Got involved in Recon, did my share of black ops. When I left the service I met this guy. He trains slaves, claims he can turn any woman into a sex toy in a few weeks. Once he offered to make a slave for me, sort of a Christmas bonus. He said if I chose the woman he would do the rest. So I went out to find Jane, it wasn't difficult, her face was in the society columns almost daily. Trouble was that she was married, had a couple of kids. Kids need a mother Beth, growing up without one I realized that. I could have taken her, could have used her as a plaything as she used me but then her kids would have suffered. It didn't seem fair somehow so I let her go. My friend's offer still stands though and all I need is a girl. You are going to be that girl Beth. In a couple of weeks you'll be sucking and fucking like a good little whore." We passed through a small town and I watched as Beth tried desperately to attract someone's attention with the little movement she had, she got a few strange looks but no one realized what was going on. I smiled. By the time we left town she was weeping. I felt her despair and knew Doc would be pleased, the first stage of processing had already begun. About an half hour later and still a few miles from Doc's I pulled over and went around to her side. Doc has a rule, one that we who work for him rigidly obey, no slave will ever know the exact location of Doc's house. Doc supplies girls all over the country and once they've left him he can no longer be certain how secure they'd be kept. It was possible that despite his training a girl could get away and alert the authorities. Our clients always work through a chain of intermediaries and don't know our location but the girls *have* to be brought here for training. I lowered Beth's seat letting it recline down as far as I could. Reaching into the bag I took a small tube of cream and told her to close her eyes. She jumped a little as I applied the cream to her lashes, but she would see the reason soon enough. Very gently I stuck an oval of surgical tape over each eyelid sealing them closed. Satisfied she could see nothing I took a simple sleep mask like the ones you get on long distance flights and fastened it over her eyes. Closing the door I cast a critical eye at the scene but could see nothing suspicious. How many times on a long trip does your passenger try to sleep? It was dark and quite late and my passenger tired of being woken by the light was using a sleep mask to try and get some rest. Satisfied I checked on Maria. The girl looked up the moment I opened the trunk. She tried to say something but of course it was pointless. A quick check of her bonds found she'd been unable to budge a single one. Maria would probably only see a brief glimpse of the place between trunk and dungeon. Still a rule is a rule. The quick application of a padded leather blindfold ensured she would see nothing when we took her out. Satisfied that my guests were comfortable I pressed on to Doc's. Every mile brought me a little closer to Kitten and by the time I was entering the lane I was very, very hard. It's said that even a craftsman can make a mistake and Kitten was mine. I'd come across her in a New York alleyway on a cold December day five years ago. I could see that she was young, though the grime and the smell kept me from realizing just how young. She was just sitting in a corner starving, contemplating whether to sell her blood or her virtue first. Then I came along and made that decision for her. She was the easiest capture I ever made though I feel she'd probably have willing signed up for slavery if it meant 3 squares and a warm bed. She traveled to Doc's in my trunk very securely bound and gagged but it proved unnecessary as she gave me no trouble. It was only later while we were cleaning her up that we realized the truth. Kitten was only thirteen years old. Now neither Doc nor myself are pedophiles and we don't deal with anyone that is. That meant that we had a slave who was a good three years ahead of her sell by date. We discussed it, even contemplated throwing her back but it was far too risky. Besides as we watched her wolf down that first meal we realized what a hard time she'd had. It took little encouragement for her to tell us her story. Her mother had been a Pro in Pittsburgh, she hadn't known her father. She'd been taken into care at age nine when her mom had been put away for the third time. Somehow her mother had got an early parole but had died of a drug overdose before she could reclaim her daughter. Kitten had been in and out of foster care since then finally ending up in a children's home. She didn't want to say much more but Doc's examination had revealed the truth. At thirteen Kitten was no longer a virgin and hadn't been for some time. In the end the solution to the Kitten problem was obvious. Doc lived alone except for various "guests" and to be honest he wasn't as young as he was. So Kitten became his house slave, cooking, cleaning and looking after the old man's needs. He now claims that he called her Kitten because of the way she likes having her hair stroked but I can remember what he really said that first time. After all Kitten is as good a name as any for a little pussy :-) At fifteen Kitten's sexual side started to assert itself and with some reluctance Doc started teaching her the various tricks he taught his sex slaves. She proved to have quite an appetite and on her sixteenth birthday, when she was beyond Doc's taboos, she had taken him to bed and virtually raped him. I used to have trouble explaining to others just who she was. She was Doc's slave, lover, housekeeper, nursemaid, assistant, companion........ granddaughter??? In a strange way maybe so. In the end Doc gave me the definitive answer. "Sorcerers apprentice!" he said with a smile and from then on it was settled. I bumped down the drive the final few yards to Doc's door. I kept asking him to get it surfaced but he just smiled. The noise, he said, was an extra warning of visitor in case his numerous electronic systems broke down. As I neared the door I heard his voice from inside. "Charles, old boy, before you come in go to the beer cooler and bring me a couple of cans. Take what you want while you're there." An old wood and wire cooler sat on the porch, it had no refrigeration other than the cold New England air, but that seemed to be enough. I knew what I'd find inside, cans of British beer sent to Doc by one of his European customers. Grabbing a couple more for myself I went inside. "You should put these in the refrigerator" "Dear me Charles, whatever for?" "Sorry I forgot. You drink English beer warm." Doc smiled, and combat began. "Not at all dear boy. Warm British beer is I'm afraid an American exaggeration. Beer should be kept at the *right* temperature. In my youth it used to be hand pumped from vats in the pub cellar. Britain is a cold country, dear boy, I assure you it arrives anything but warm. The problem you have here is that you overcool your beer. It's a man's drink not some fizzy beverage, it should be treated with respect." "Still as grouchy as ever I see." "One of the benefits of age I'm afraid. In another fifty years you'll see it's attractions." I poured the beer into the glass he offered and sat back. "Well you wanted me and I'm here. So what's so damned important?" "Ah yes. I'm sorry to drag you from your holidays but something of an emergency has come up. I'm doing a special job for one of our New York clients, two girls to be prepared in advance of some office outing. Very good money obviously but due to some mix-up the date's been brought forward." I sipped the beer, "Are they ready?" "Oh yes, have been for a few weeks I've been holding them here until the client was ready. It's sort of a strange deal, he wants them to do something at this party of his, then he want's us to dispose of them." "Dispose?" "Juan will take them no problem. Teressa has also expressed an interest though I don't know yet if she wants both. As you'll see they're more valuable as a set but there are problems with Mexico at the moment. Still with the training paid for we could almost afford to give them away....." "Seems straight forward," I said, "Can't see that there is too much of a problem." Doc shuffled uneasily. "Truth is that there are some problems." "Oh?" "You are familiar with my techniques Charles. You know that some have taken fifty years to develop. I admit to having some failures in the past but for perhaps the past thirty years I've been sure enough of my findings to be able to draw up certain axioms." I nodded, when he first told me what he did I'd not really believed him. In the Marines I'd been through special training, tortured by professionals to find my breaking point and give me the tools to resist torture by the other side. With constant physical and mental abuse almost anyone will break, the trainers job was to gauge that point before the subject was irreversibly damaged. Compared to Doc those guys were in the Stone Age. I've picked up a runaway and two months later seen the same girl turned into a accomplished whore. Doc's girls aren't just obedient, they are so compliant, so willing. Doc claims his technique makes the slave actively need sex, they have an enormous appetite and seem to genuinely enjoy every moment. Pleasure, he says, is much more effective persuader than pain. Hurt someone and all they'll do is try and avoid what caused the pain. Pleasure someone and they will actively seek out more. Doc scratched his nose, "The problem is this. Our client wanted one of the girls to maintain most of her original personality. That is, he wanted her aware of what she was doing and able to respond in a characteristic way to her environment. Now as you know this implies that rather than break the girl we should condition her with various desired responses. This means that she would appear as normal but when given a trigger event or an order from the master she's been conditioned to obey she would perform the desired task." I nodded. After six years I understood *that* much. "All my research shows such a thing requires between three and six months depending on subject. I've *never* produced such a girl in less time, not with total success anyway. The problem is that our client's time scale has left a little under six weeks for training. That was barely enough time to break her friend. I've made a start, I feel that she'll do the job he requires but our control of her is very unstable. I'm afraid for the most part you must consider both of them hostile and transport them accordingly." New recruits were "hostile," that meant that if they weren't tied down they would try to run away. Usually transporting one of Doc's girls after processing was easy. No escape attempts, no bonds, you just drove them somewhere like they were regular people. In fact the only downside was that if you didn't fuck them every night they had a tendency to be moody in the morning. Tough job but someone has to do it. "What about this "party" if she gives us problems there We could have witnesses?" Doc smiled, "I've thought of that. I'll give you a drug, it's a will suppressant, inject her with it about twenty minutes before you arrive and she won't give you much trouble for the next few hours. Let the girls do their thing, then pack them up, ship them back and let me worry what to do with them." The plan seemed reasonable, though the risks involved in transporting an unstable slave must be worth double. Then I remembered. "Doc, you remember you offered to process a slave for me?" "Yes?" "Well I've found one. I recruited a couple of hitchers tonight and one of them is perfect." "Recruited? Not around here I trust?" I smiled, "Twenty, thirty miles." I heard Doc breath in, "Charles, how many times do I have to tell you. We do not recruit around here. For God sake not even a dog pees in his own basket." "I didn't intend to take them! When you see her you'll understand." "Very well. I suppose if they're here it's a little too late. We'll need Kitten. You'd better get her." "Where is she?" "In her basket." "Basket?" I was surprised, " Is she being punished?" "No, our little Kitten has a few more kinks than even we knew. Go get her and you'll see." Doc keeps his slaves in hidden underground cells and dungeons. In fact nothing to do with his illicite career exists above the surface. This means that if we got unlucky and the place was raided it was unlikely to yield any clues. However Kitten had been a problem. A house slave has to wash and clean and look after her master which is fine except a sudden raid was likely to find her above ground. With this in mind we had built Kitten's "Basket" a small hidden cell concealed within part of the fireplace. At night she had slept underground with the others, but during the day when she wasn't needed or if the security system warned of a sudden visitor she would be locked up in the basket until Doc was ready to let her out. Doc had been a cautious man, despite Kitten's good will he had still kept her bound and gagged for much of the first three months. It hadn't been uncommon to see the girl naked but for her bonds struggling to clean the floor with her hands tied. Doc had kept her naked not for any sexual reason but because the lack of clothes and the cold weather outside discouraged escape. Gently I pushed the hidden latches and swung the basket's door open. Kitten was inside dressed in a leather basque and bikini brief set. Stockings and high heel pumps were a must of course as that was one of Doc's favorite fetishes as were the long leather opera gloves. The room, which had been large enough to take a bound thirteen year old was now barely big enough for Kitten to lie down it. She was gagged with a large leather pad gag of Doc's patented design, her ankles fastened to a spreader. I couldn't see her hands but figured they were bound behind her. A length of white cotton rope had been used as a crotch strap wrapped once around her waist then passing between her legs pushing the leather panties deep into her damp twat. I noticed the small movement of the knots she'd tied as they teased her clit through the panties, the other end of the strap was probably tied to her wrist in some way. The whole thing looked frustrating, I doubted that she could ever get off on her own. "She did it herself a few hours back," Doc said, "I think it's her way to get you to fuck her. I'll go out and see to that girl of yours. You'll find the keys on the small table, a condom too. Please use it Charles old man, not that I don't trust you but remember you are peeing in the well I drink from." Kitten's eyes twinkled, she'd been leading me on for months, cock teasing me until I could think of nothing else. Doc ran an open house policy. The few of us in direct contact with him had almost unlimited access to the slave pens. The only exceptions tended to be if a client specified that they wanted exclusive use or if sex would somehow interfere with training. Other than that any girl in the place was fair game. Except for Kitten. As part of her strange status Kitten only fucked the men Kitten wanted to fuck. Oh I have no doubt that Doc could order her to do it, after all she was still a slave, but I doubted he ever would. So Kitten had played with me for the last few months and this was the payoff. I couldn't see the bondage angle though. Doc keeps all his girls bound and gagged as a security measure, and all of his slaves have been fucked in bondage at least once. Kitten was the exception though so I could only figure that this kink was entirely of her own choosing. By now I'd got my pants off and was trying with trembling hand to roll on the condom. Kitten just watched amused, tugging occasionally on the crotch strap to keep things cooking. At last I was ready. I used a knife to cut the cord above her snatch and slowly pulled the strings to release the bikini briefs. Kitten moaned as I removed the panties; Doc's gags are very effective and I doubted she would get much louder. She trembled with anticipation and the overpowering smell of her sex hit me making my rubber coated cock swell even more. I felt I would have to start soon or pass out so I put my cock on the entrance of her womb and pushed. She gave a muffled squeal. Even though she was well lubricated she was impossibly tight. I paused, concerned that I may have hurt her. I heard the spreader drag for a second as she adjusted her position. Then she thrust up engulfing me in a tight warmness. Her muffled scream sounding surprisingly loud in the tight confines of the basket. She thrust again and I finally got the point. I started fucking her in earnest feeling her muscles at they grasped my cock and pulled me deeper inside. The tightness was incredible it was almost as if we were joined at the waist. I felt her orgasm building deep inside her body feeling it wash over my buried cock like a tidal wave. She came and her hot cunt sucked deeply on my cock, pumping, draining me dry as I seemed to cum for hour after hour. I fell back feeling relieved I still had some body fluids left and wondering for some strange reason if Mi Lin knew what had happened, as if a woman can somehow know when she's suddenly no longer "the best." I managed to stagger to my feet and get the keys, one for the spreader, one for the cuffs and one for the gag. I freed her slowly allowing myself the opportunity to tease her bound body before finally letting her go. I left the gag 'til last so that I could remove it when she was standing. I pulled the mouthpiece free. She licked her lips. "Hi Master Charlie," She said, voice hoarse and sexy. "Hi Kitten." I didn't know what else to say. It was pointless asking if it was good for her, the volume of her cries despite Doc's special gag had proved that. It was pointless to say that I loved her because she belonged to someone else, literally. In the end Doc interrupted the moment. The door opened and in staggered Maria. she "looked" around the room with her blindfolded face. Her gag and the bonds around her upper body were still as before and swatches of cut duct tape still adhered to her jeans. She was joined a second later by Beth. Doc had removed the leg bindings and the sleep mask for some reason. She stood there looking oddly normal save for her taped eyes. Kitten recovered the bikini briefs and I put on my pants. Doc appeared behind the two girls and pushed Maria forward. The helpless girl staggered and almost fell making a little mewing sound behind her gag. "Ah Kitten, all finished are we? Good girl. Now take this one down and start processing her straight away. I want a full workup, virginal swabs, urine test and a blood sample for the HIV test." Kitten sighed, from bondage babe to private nurse in a few minutes. She flashed me a smile then grabbing Maria's arm she started to pull her towards the hidden dungeon door. Doc pointed at Beth's concealed gag. "Not still doing this are you. It's going to get you caught one of these days." "I think it's pretty good myself. Squeeze a nipple if you don't believe me." Doc shook his head, "I have no doubt that the gag is effective and I agree that it isn't easily noticeable but the fact remains that while a slave is in public view she has too many opportunities to draw attention to herself." "First up, I only use it at night and even then only for short trips. Second the alternative was to put her on the back seat. I accept that there is less chance of her being seen but if someone does see a girl bound and gagged in the back of your car they *will* notice." "And if you're stopped?" He persisted. "If she's tied up in the back it's all over anyway! This way I just show her the gun and make it clear that if she draws attention to herself the cop dies. In poor light you can't easily notice it even close up." Doc shook his head, I don't think he'll ever be convinced. "This is the one you want processed?" he said. I nodded. "How much?" "Full treatment, the works." "Expensive!" "So your offer was only good for a six week fuck toy?" I asked innocently. He scowled, "Full treatment it is then." He reached over and pulled off the wig letting Beth's natural blonde hair cascade down. "Isn't.......?" he began. I put a finger to his lips silencing him. Beth "looked" around disorientated and scared. "We had better get Kitten up here to process this one," Doc said. I shook my head. "I want to save the uniform," I said, "That means we need to actually strip her rather than just cutting the clothes off. Kitten can't manage that on her own." Doc smiled, "Never underestimate Kitten, Charles. She's far more talented than you can imagine." We took Beth down to a dungeon room and stripped her ourselves. She struggled of course but still blindfolded and gagged she was too disorientated to put up a spirited resistance. I showed Doc the special solvent solution that allowed the hidden gag to be removed and even he had to admit it was ingenious. When we were finished Beth hung from the ceiling, arms and legs separated by spreaders, blindfolded with a conventional leather blindfold and chewing happily on one of Doc's gags. Satisfied that she was ready for Kitten we headed off in search of Maria. Doc smiled, "Charles old man I must confess I never realized you were so ruthless. You can't take the mother so you take the daughter? I am right? Beth is Jane's daughter?" I nodded, "You can imagine my reaction, and tonight of all nights. I didn't realize until she took her jacket off and I saw her in the full uniform. I mean it's been four years since I last checked up on Jane, Beth was just a little kid then. You must see why I took her, it seemed like fate. I can't imagine what Jane Walters daughter would be doing hitching to Worcester. It was so bizarre, so perfect....." Kitten appeared in the corridor. "I think I can answer some of your questions, if you're interested?" We walked into another dungeon area to find Maria hanging naked From the roof. She was bound identically to her friend with blindfold, gag and spreaders. Over the years Doc had developed a set of standard practices. Binding the girls like this allowed for a full medical exam with minimal fuss. Kitten gave Doc a clipboard and pointed to some results. "HIV and micro bacteriology will have to wait of course, but this bitch is definitely pregnant." I watched Maria stiffen. Doc checked the clipboard, "You checked?" Kitten shrugged, "Twice, she's either pregnant or has some form of ovarian cyst. Given her age the later seems unlikely." I looked at Kitten amazed. Doc noticed the look, "Come now Charles you shouldn't be that surprised. Surely you didn't think I'd developed the technology just to have an endless supply of willing pussy?" In fact I *had* thought that but I kept silent for now. "The same techniques I use to make a sex slave in two months can make a pretty good doctor in a couple of years." "Pretty good?" Kitten said, "You know my grade point average." "Yes my dear but it doesn't count unless you actually graduate medical school." Kitten pouted and stormed back towards Maria. I watched her go amazed. Doc bent over and whispered conspiratorially, "Told you not to underestimate her....." Kitten removed Maria's gag. "Ok you bitch who got you up the spout." Maria seemed confused. "Up the spout?" I whispered to Doc. "Pregnant. I'm afraid too many years living with an Englishman has played havoc with Kitten's idioms." "Let me go you bitch!" Maria screamed. I saw Kitten stiffen. Kitten tutted, "Wrong answer and wrong name. You are the *bitch*. You will call me *mistress* or by God I'll make you suffer!" I felt my blood run cold. "May I suggest that we adjourn off to the snug for a whisky?" Doc suggested. "I get the feeling things are about to get a little unpleasant. I let Kitten do most of the discipline these days because quite frankly she has a certain talent for it." "Please stay," Kitten said, "This really won't take a second." She turned and grabbed Maria's nipple twisting viscously. Bringing her head close she hissed in Maria ear in a voice so cold and viscous I found myself with the chills again. "Hungry bitch? Arms getting a little tired? I'm the one who decides when you come down. *I* say when or if you eat. So tell me slave what do you say?" She gave another twist and Maria's will dissolved. "S...sorry." I smiled. It wasn't easy for a St. Mary's girl to apologize, that isn't the way they are brought up, but Maria was a realist and survival meant not messing with Kitten. "Sorry what?" Kitten asked. "Sorry Mistress." "Good girl!" Kitten said. She turned and smiled. "See that didn't take long did it." Turning back to Maria she gently massaged the injured nipple "So tell us about how you got yourself pregnant." Even with half her face covered by a blindfold Maria looked sheepish. "Carl.... a .. a boy who works on the grounds. We took precautions I bought him condoms and hid them. There must have been a defect." She slumped down miserable. Then I suddenly realized, "You were going to Worcester for an abortion weren't you??" She nodded and sniffed, "One of the girls knew of a guy. We couldn't use a legal clinic, they have to take your name... I'd have to have my parent's approval.... They'd have to know. We thought using one outside of town was better but we didn't have transport." "And Beth," I asked. "The girls said someone would have to come with me, in case there were problems. They drew straws......" And suddenly a thousand to one shot became ten thousand to one......... I cleared my throat, "This guy you were going to see, what was his address?" A plan had started to form in my mind, a way to shift suspicion away from here and back towards Worcester. "In my jeans pocket....." Kitten had cut the jeans off with a knife but fortunately the pockets were intact. Kitten reached down and picked up the remains working her was through the pockets methodically. Finally she found a piece of paper which she handed to Doc who read it and winced. "My dear young lady I know that things may seem quite desperate for you now but I can assure you that you've had a fortunate escape. This man is a scoundrel, a quack and a butcher! I shudder to think what would have befallen you at his hands." Maria "looked" up. "Really?" She asked weakly. "Really," Doc said firmly, "Kitten, help our young mother down and find her a nice private cell away from the others. Minimal bonds, no gag and double rations. She is eating for two after all." "Two?" Maria whispered. "Yes my dear I think we will let you come to term on this one. Do not fear both myself and Mistress Kitten are well qualified, you will get the best in private care." "B...but I don't want the baby." Doc smiled, "No but we do. Now hurry along Kitten dear and do make sure that our mother to be is nice and warm." I watched as Kitten dragged the still reluctant Maria away. "*You* want the baby?" I asked. "Oh yes," Doc said, "Good healthy white baby can easily pull in twenty thousand if you can find the right adoptive parents. That's a tidy profit on nine months room and board. Further it will establish Maria as having a good reproductive track record. There are societies were that is a highly valued property in a slave." "You're a bastard you know." Doc smiled, "And your point is? Anyway, while we're here I may as well introduce you to your cargo." We wondered through the pens. Doc's place was built to handle twenty girls or more, but that had been in the sixties when there had been an almost infinite number of Flower Children to choose from and HIV was a far off nightmare. These days he keeps perhaps ten at a time, a number he and Kitten can handle easily between them. The corridors are always quiet, Doc keeps his girls bound and gagged at all times to "discourage mischief". I must admit it works. It's hard for the girls to plan a mutiny when they can't talk to one another. We stopped at a cell occupied by two girls. Unlike the occupants of some of the other cells these two wore clothes. The older woman was in her mid thirties with long brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was dressed in a fairly expensive female business suit complete with stockings and sensible pumps. She mumbled something into her gag and tried to move forward. The steel collar around her neck stopped her getting any further. Doc pointed to her. "That's the one we were talking about," he said, "Her name's Myra." "This one," He said pointing to the younger blonde girl, "Used to be called Joanne but these days we call her JoJo." JoJo was dressed in the most incredible outfit I'd ever seem. A latex lace up basque, latex thigh high five inch heeled boots and shiny latex gloves. "This is their outfit for the party, we kept them in it after today's practice so that they can give you a demonstration." He handed me a key and nodded towards Myra then started to unfasten JoJo. "Right ladies go to work." Myra sat as if she was at a desk. A pair of glasses had appeared from somewhere and she sat pantomiming reading papers. Pausing she pressed a button on an invisible intercom. "JoJo come in here please." JoJo flounced over. There was something in the way she moved, in the vacant look in her eyes that told me she was a six week special. Doc had broken her, destroying completely the woman she used to be and programming the husk as a simple sex toy. I could see how Myra could be a problem, there was still a flicker of self awareness behind those brown eyes but for JoJo it was all over. All she could wish for now was a kind master and an easy life. It was unlikely she'd have either. "JoJo! Fine personal assistant you are I was looking through these accounts and I've found a problem." "Really miss what's wrong?" Even her voice lacked any personality. "There's still money in them you little bitch! Why do I employ you!" JoJo squirmed pushing her latex covered cleavage in the older woman's face. "I dunno. Because I lick slit good?" Myra stood up threw off her jacket and the glasses and then Doc pressed a button and the music started. I'd seen lesbian displays before, most erotic dance shows have at least one if they can get away with it. Most are quiet boring as you soon get the feeling that the girls are just play acting. This was different, it had an energy and rhythm about it that was unmatched in my experience. Each woman latched on to the other, licking, fingering, teasing in time to the music. Methodically they stripped each other, though in fact Myra ended up taking the most off. Underneath blouse and skirt was a latex top and a pair of matching bikini briefs. This left both women dressed almost identically at which point the lesbian foreplay became more spirited. There was a strange urgency to it all as each woman tried desperately to bring the other off. I looked at JoJo, the vacant look had been replaced by a desperate unearthly hunger. I saw it's reflection in Myra's eyes but I also saw something more, a horror, self loathing and disgust. It hovered just below the surface suppressed by Doc's conditioning but it was there. Somewhere the real Myra was aware of what she was doing, aware but unable to stop. Then suddenly JoJo came, and moments later Myra followed her with a screaming mind stunning orgasm that left her twitching on the floor. I helped her up. The vacant look had crept into her eyes as if the orgasm had somehow crushed the last vestige of her personality. She didn't struggle as I rebound her and shoved the gag back into her limp mouth. We went back upstairs in silence. "What was that Doc? What have we got ourselves into?" "That was one hundred percent what the client ordered," Doc said defensively. "He even scripted it and chose the music. You see there is a gimmick. I've made it so that each woman has an orgasm that is perhaps a tenth of it's usual potency. Except, if she cums just after another woman then it's more like ten *times* the usual potency." "So each tries to make the other cum first!" "Right! If you cum first you get a little tremble. Cum second and the world explodes." "So Myra won just now." Doc smiled, "She usually does, one of the advantages of not having been broken yet. The whole setup was the client's idea he just asked if it was possible." "But why?" Doc handed me a whisky, "Myra worked for a major Manhattan bank in their foreign trading desk. Quite senior, a VP I believe. Joanne was her PA. Our client was another VP who's department used the Foreign Desk a lot. He started to notice some irregularities which at first he put down to some over ambitious trading. Gradually though he started to find evidence of a widespread securities fraud being run from somewhere inside Myra's department. As was common procedure at the bank he approached the board in Myra's absence and was ordered to investigate fully. One weekend he and some of his people entered Myra's departmental records and started to do an audit." I could see where this was going, "And the culprit turned out to be Myra.." "Exactly! She had embezzled several million dollars in the past three years and he was able to prove it. He called her in and asked for an explanation and she just laughed in his face. Told him not to be a stupid little boy, that they couldn't go to law because after Barrings and that Tokyo scandal any publicity would bring down the bank. She even threatened to go public herself if he pushed it. She handed him her resignation and just left laughing at him as she went and taking Joanne with her." "So he hired you to get revenge." "In a way," Doc said, "You were in London that week so Martin and Ray picked up our two young friends. The bank has managed to bury the loss through some careful accounting. The office has a tradition of going out to a cabaret evening once a year. This year our man will provide the entertainment." "How's he going to explain it?" I asked puzzled. "He'll claim that Myra agreed to do it in exchange for not being sued for breach of contract." "Seems a little thin," I said, "If I'd stolen a few million I'm sure I could find a better way out" Doc shrugged. "Ultimately it doesn't really mater," Doc said, "He'll get his few minutes of revenge and the public humiliation of Myra and he'll be happy. Let him explain it." I wasn't satisfied but I let is ride. "Anyway the party is tomorrow night in a club in Manhattan." Doc said, "You will take them to the show and bring them back here afterwards." I confess I didn't like it and I told him so but I think he felt I was overplaying things as a bargaining ploy. In the end we agreed on a price. Doc paused. "By the way Charles, in nine months it will be Christmas I believe." "About then." I agreed. "Lets have a party of our own then! Maria will be having her baby and in nine months I can turn your Beth into the most perfect slave you'll ever see!" "Sounds good," I said standing, "But right now I need to get some sleep if I'm driving tomorrow." I headed down to the dungeon to say goodnight to Kitten. That look in Myra's eye still bothered me. I had a friend who worked one summer in a slaughter house. He had no problems "processing" hundreds of cows a week, hell he even joked about it. Then one day he just upped and left. When I asked him why he told me about an accident they'd had, of a cow that had somehow survived the killer and how he'd watched it die in agony fully aware of what was going on. Usually I didn't think about those we processed, it was quick and simple and there seemed to be little pain. Myra was different. We were slowly destroying her and like that poor cow she was aware of what we were doing to her. I shuddered. Kitten was in the dungeon with Beth. The girl's position had hardly changed since I left her though her shaved cunt showed that Kitten had been busy. Slaves have no sexual contact until the results of the health checks came back, but of course this didn't include mechanical items. When I arrived Kitten was just about to fit Beth with a large vibrator. Not wanting to interfere I waited until Kitten had finished. Kitten looked up, "Slave, your *master* is here to see you." She reached down and switched the device on. Beth moaned behind her gag. "He gives you this gift of pleasure in recognition of your obedience," Kitten intoned, "And the gift of pain if you disobey." Beth's hips quaked as she tried to get a better position and her moans increased in volume. Kitten walked over. "Come to see how she's coming along," She asked lightly. "Actually I came to see you." "Doc told you then?" "Told me what?" "That I'm to supervise the processing of your slave?" "You?" "Yes *me* You haven't been here much master, I do most of the training these days." So Doc hadn't been kidding when he'd called her his apprentice...... "It's about that girl Myra. Do you know who the client is?" She shook her head. "Doc works on a need to know basis and I didn't *need* to know. Even if I did I couldn't tell you. Compartmentalization is essential if our security is to be maintained." "The intermediary, you must know *him*." "Master please, you know I can't say so why ask?" "Kitten!" She rolled her eyes, "Ok, but if I end up scrubbing kitchen floors naked again *you* will be responsible." She sighed, "It's Sam Turner." I kissed her and we made love then and there. Above us and in a world of her own Beth swung backwards and forwards, moaning into her gag and thrusting her hips as she chased that illusive orgasm. .................................................................................................... From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:11 1997 From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap2 "New Beginnings and Loose Ends" (M/ffff B&D, NC, Adventure) Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:11 GMT Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net Message-ID: <335807e1.2303884@news-s01.ca.us.ibm.net> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.1/16.230 NNTP-Posting-Host: 139.92.44.66 Lines: 970 Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!sprint!newsxfer3.itd.umich.edu!azure.xara.net!xara.net!newsfeed.uk.ibm.net!ibm.net!news-m01.ny.us.ibm.net!ibm.net!news1.ibm.net!139.92.44.66 ************************************************************ STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1997 tmquin@ibm.net ************************************************************ Doc's Orders by Quin ====================== Chapter 2 "New Beginnings and Loose Ends" ===================================== Next morning I woke refreshed. I'd gone to bed with the germ of an idea that had slowly blossomed into a fully fledged plan. I'd been up at six thirty and in search of Kitten. I had no doubt that she would be up. Slaving is like any other form of animal husbandry, up at dawn, down at dusk. She was in the kitchen having breakfast. The leather outfit of last night replaced by a cute latex French maid's outfit which was probably for my benefit. It seemed the teasing was on again. She was reading a book but when she saw I was up she quickly put it down and headed for the stove. "Sunny side up! Right Master?" I nodded, the Marines had got me used to the idea of getting up early but at some primal level my body still didn't like it. She passed me a large mug of coffee and started assembling breakfast. I looked at the book "The BIG book of girls names." It had a cute picture of a woman playing with a baby on the cover. "Getting a little ahead of yourself aren't we," I asked, "She may have a boy." "I'm sorry Master?" "I was saying, your just a little ahead of yourself with Maria's baby," I said holding up the book. "Oh, that's not for the baby, " She said putting a large plate of pancakes on the table, "That's for me." "You?" "Yes, I'm choosing my new name. At the moment I can't decide between Caitlin and Kathryn. I think Caitlin sounds better but it has all those beach bunny, 90210 connotations. Kathryn's more stuffy but hey, she's s Starfleet Captain." "I'm sorry?" I said and I was, genuinely sorry that I'd even started this conversation. "Doc asked me if I wanted a new name." "Why?" I said confused. She arched her back and sucked her stomach in. Her breasts were forced out, straining against the imprisoning latex. Suddenly I was hard again. "If you haven't noticed Master," She purred, "I'm hardly a kitten anymore." Now that she mentioned it I realized she was right. I mean I know she had grown up, I'd fucked her for God sake, but in my mind there were two Kitten's, the sex vixen and the thirteen year old girl in that freezing alley. Finding that they were the same person after all would take some adjustment. Perhaps a new name wasn't such a bad idea. "What was the second one I asked?" "Kathryn? It's with a *y*. Do you like it?" "Sorry? Err no, not especially," I said, "Just didn't hear it right. What are the others." She ran through a whole list and it didn't take me long to see the pattern. "Do all these names shorten to Kat?" "I thought I'd stick with the feline motif, " She said. "Then why not just stick with Kat?" She wrinkled her nose, "It's a little common don't you think? Bit too much trailer trash?" I gave up. "Doc tells me you handle discipline these days?" "Ah, ah." "How good are you at torture?" "For pleasure or punishment?" She asked handing me a bottle of maple syrup. "There's a difference?" I asked. "There is if you do it properly Master," She said suggestively. "I need to get some information from Beth. I figure she's either going to hold out on us or may tell us the wrong thing completely." "Like what?" "Bank card number." I said as I took my first bite of pancake. Doc was an excellent cook with exceptionally high standards. It came as no surprise that this was one of the first things he'd taught his young house slave. Kitten's pancakes were excellent, equal to the best you could find in the finest restaurant in the world. "Are they good Master?" She asked innocently. Now she was teasing me with food. I ignored the obvious trolling for complements. "About those numbers." She wrinkled her nose, "Piece of cake. Should take about an hour." I frowned. I'd expected Beth to be more resilient than that. Of course the money wasn't much good to her now but it would be a while before she accepted that. I realized that painful torture could open anyone's lips, I knew that better than anybody, but Doc's treatment was almost painless and the kind of "persuasion" necessary would go against that principle. "An hour?" "Probably less," Kitten said returning to the stove. I shook my head. "Don't want to question your professional opinion," I said, mouth full of pancake, "But I know this kind of girl. Even if you took a whip to her she's too stupid to know when to give up.." "An hour," she insisted, "*Tops.*" I shook my head. "If you don't believe me we could have a small wager...." I laughed, "What do you have to wager?" Kitten smiled and bent over trusting her latex covered toosh at my face. She brought a gloved finger up to her mouth and looked at me over her shoulder with a confused expression on her face. It was an almost perfect reproduction of a fifties cheesecake shot. "Gee Master," She said wiggling her ass, "I can't think." "Ok, I said, "You made your point. What do you want in return?" She smiled a sinister little smile. "Personally I've always liked the idea of a boy toy," She said, "A male slave of my very own." I nearly choked on my coffee, "You can't be serious?" "Not so sure of your Beth after all?" Kitten taunted, "Or just not man enough to take the risk?" I found myself flushed. This shouldn't be happening, *SHE* was the slave here. The idea of being Kitten's slave did not appeal at all, I'm too dominant for that, but I'm too macho to back down. "No drugs?" I asked. She gave me a pained look like I'd just asked her to heat up a TV dinner. "No drugs," she said. Beth was a Saint Mary's girl, a bitch of the first order. I doubted she'd be smart enough to give up that number in an hour if her life literally depended on it. "Deal," I said, "Get the number in less than an hour and I'm yours for *ONE* night." Kitten gave an evil feline grin, "No restrictions?" "No restrictions," I agreed, "As long as when you *LOSE* there are no restrictions while you're mine." She smiled. "Agreed," She said, dumping ham, eggs and waffles on a plate in front of me, " Now eat up and lets go get our pigeon." Needless to say the breakfast was excellent. We ate in silence but Kitten's body language told me that she was supremely confident. I began to feel nervous. Afterwards we headed down to the dungeons. Doc had explained the history of the place to me once. It had been built in the fifties as some kind of Government survival shelter. The idea was that certain key members of the Massachusetts State legislator would hide here in time of war. Needless to say it was secret, not only to hide it from the Russians but also to prevent the possibility of the local people trying to break in during an alert. In '62 the place got it's first tryout during the Cuban Missile Crisis and was found to be too small for all the politicians and their hangers on and most importantly too hard to get to. The Federal Government started building a new shelter north of Boston and this one was earmarked to be destroyed. Somehow in the general confusion following the Kennedy assassination it was missed. Doc bought it from the government as an undeveloped parcel of land in '65 and with a group of slaves built the house and the complex we know today. We walked down the corridors listening to the muffled sounds of the slaves in their cells. The design of the cells was a little unusual and reflected some of Doc's thinking about the training of slaves. For a start each cell had a section of steel bars about two feet wide and going floor to ceiling just to the right of the door. This allows air and sounds in from the corridors and lets the slaves see the comings and goings throughout the day. As the bars were always to the right of the doors and as the slaves are chained to their bunks it isn't possible for a slave to look out into another's cell. The slaves remain gagged so it isn't possible for them to communicate but they can hear each others sounds and know that they are not alone. Doc claims this greatly speeds up the breaking of a slave because they share each others despair without the benefits of any camaraderie. The slave starts to thinking that if all these others can't escape what chance does she stand, sees the naked, gagged women being dragged past her cell to an uncertain fate. Eventually it overwhelms her. By now we had arrived outside Beth's cell. Though the cells are designed for double occupancy, Doc always gives a new recruit single quarters for the first few days. They tend to be noisy and disruptive and Doc doesn't think it fair to trouble another slave with their tantrums. The only exceptions tend to be if girls are recruited together or are being supplied to the same master. If Maria hadn't been pregnant it was likely she would have been Beth's cellmate. Kitten picked up a clipboard from beside the door and checked the contents. "Some of the paperwork hasn't been done," She said, "Want to do it now?" I reached for the clipboard but she pulled it back. "In there," she said with a smile. As we entered the cell Beth was struggling to stand. I had known immediately what to expect, Doc had a standard uniform for slaves that almost all of them wore. I watched her as she struggled and took in the details. It started with high heeled ankle boots. They consisted of a wooden sole attached to a solid platform heel. The uppers were made of strong black leather, like the stuff they use to make army boots. The uppers ran from the toes to a broad leather strap circling the ankle. The strap was really a type of cuff and was fastened with a padlock which effectively made it impossible to remove the boots. A couple of spare D rings on the cuffs allowed for additional restraint. At the moment a short length of chain was clipped between them hobbling Beth's ankles. The whole look was workmanlike and functional if a little ugly. The boots were battered and old, countless slaves had worn them through the years and there were probably dozens more in their future. However they served a useful purpose, not only did they get the slave used to walking in heels they also made escape more difficult. As they were locked in place an escaping slave couldn't discard them easily. Doc claims that the tendons in the back of the leg starts to shrink if a girl wears heels too long. While that makes it easier for her to walk in them it effectively means that flats become uncomfortable. In nine months Beth will have no choice than to be a high heeled slut. The rest of Beth's "outfit" was brief. Around her waist she wore a chastity belt arrangement. This was basically two wide leather straps. One was fastened tightly around her waist, the other was attached to the first at the front and back passing between her legs on the way. A couple of simple locks held everything in place and ensured it couldn't be removed. It was possible to unlock the crotch strap separately and so gain access to her twat. At cunt level the crotch strap had a small metal plate that allowed for various attachments. At the moment it was being used to hold a vibrating dildo deep in her twat. I smiled, I hoped she liked it because something, organic or otherwise, would fill her cunt every second of her time here. It was yet another of Doc's training aids. He says it educates the slave that her natural condition is to have a cock inside her. He claims that after processing his slaves no longer feel comfortable without something in there. Beth's arms were covered in a pair of black latex opera gloves that reached up to just above her elbows. Doc likes gloves and his conditioning technique ensures that even after they leave the girls continue to wear them even though today they appear a little anachronistic. Doc says it helps reduce the chance of a stray fingerprint being found. Two leather cuffs on Beth's wrists were fastened to the belt locking her arms by her sides. A further clincher by her elbows had the very desirable side effect of thrusting her wonderful breasts outwards. Like the other slaves she was naked above the waist allowing easy access to h er charms. By now she had struggled to her feet and stood looking at me with such hatred in her young eyes. Bound as she was there was nothing she could *DO* about it but I was still glad that the metal collar around her neck kept her chained to the wall near her bunk. She tried to say something, but one of Doc's leather pad gags had been fastened over her mouth. On Beth the thing seemed huge extending from her chin to her cheeks. In fact a little dimple had been cut into it for her nose. Like the belt it had a removable section at the front that allowed for the fitting of various attachments. Something was stuffed into her mouth at the moment and I knew immediately that it was a penis gag, to get her used to the feeling of a cock in that pretty young mouth. I turned to find Kitten waiting. "Shall we begin?" she asked looking at me amused. "These are questions about your requirements. Usually these are passed from the customer by our agent but as you're here." "Oh, err yes," I said, aware of my huge hardon. "Slave's name?" She asked, "We have her here as Beth. Do you want to change it?" It was usual for a master to give his slave a new name. It was as much for security as anything. In all the years of Doc's operation not a single slave had been recognized by someone who knew her in her former life. Most of this is to be expected, slaves are rarely placed near to where they were recruited, but the numbers involved mean that logically there must have been some near misses. I mean, if you went into a skin joint and the dancer looked like that pretty chick you sat behind in high school you may start wondering. Of course chances are you'd probably think it's a coincidence, that they only look similar, still if she had the same name you may get curious.... "I haven't decided yet," I said. Then suddenly I knew. "Jane," I said, "Her name is Jane." "Slave Jane," Kitten repeated making a note on the clipboard. "Right. Now color. She's blonde at the moment. You want her brunette or redhead??" "No." "Didn't think so," She said, "But we still have to ask. Now breasts, we can enlarge them if you want but Doc asked me to remind you that his offer only covers our costs. Cosmetic surgery and doctors fees are extra." I snorted, "After he gets Maria and that valuable baby for free?" "That's a management decision," Kitten said, "You'll have to take it up with Doc." I reached forward to feel Beth's tits. She squealed into the gag and started to back up. Quick as a flash a crop appeared in Kitten's hand and she brought it down hard on one of Beth's exposed nipples. The squeal became a full fledged scream though the gag reduced it to almost nothing. "Hold still," Kitten hissed, "This man is you new owner. He has every right to inspect his property. Now stand up straight legs apart. Move again and I'll be forced to discipline you." Beth stood as directed sobbing piteously. She stiffened but didn't resist as I gently caressed her naked breasts. I felt a slight tremble as my hand lingered and her nipples started to harden. Just like her mother I thought, far too sensitive for her own good. "I think these are fine," I said, "I'm not sure about the nose though." The only real difference between Beth and her mother at this age was the shape of the nose. Jane's had been strong and straight Beth's was more of a button affair. I wondered if it was even possible to have your nose enlarged. Kitten shook her head, "I'm afraid she's still a little young for that. Plastic surgery while the features of the face aren't fully mature is a little risky. Perhaps in a year?" I nodded. Kitten reached down and unlocked Beth's crotch belt. She pulled the dildo free raising a groan from her helpless captive. "Damp one," She commented. "As you can see we've shaved her to our usual pattern with a small tuft of hair for decoration. Is this acceptable or do you want more or less? It's usual practice to permanently denude all the shaved area for easy maintenance." "All of it," I said, "Completely, permainently clean." This raised a stifled noise from Beth. She was of an age when she could still remember it naked, were she considered pubic hair as some mystical mark of her womanhood. I reached down and ran my hand over her smooth pubis. I felt her stiffen but with hands strapped by her side and mouth gagged she was helpless to stop me. I stroked it gently feeling the faint tremors as her hips shook. In nine months using electrolysis and hot wax this area would be permainently clear. I looked into her eyes and saw her silent plea, if I removed it she would be marked as a slut forever. Every doctor, every lover would know immediately. "Yes," I said, "Loose it all." Kittens gloved hand stroked Beth's belly. "Of course we will put her on a vigorous workout regime to get rid of the last of this puppy fat." That raised a muffled protest which Kitten chose to ignore. "Final extra's. We have started heel training, is that acceptable?" I nodded. "Figure training, piercing, tattoos, special training?" "No figure training," I said, "Silver rings in both nipples, navel, clit hood." Beth stiffened. "I'd have to see the patterns for the tattoos. I want the works on the training, both male and female, dancing, oral, etiquette, housekeeping, child care..." Kitten scribbled furiously. "We have nine months," She said, "Why not sign her up for everything, it saves writing." "Ok," I said, "May as well get Doc's money's worth. Besides it improves her resale value." Nothing comes close to describing the look on Beth's face, the horror, the shock. To be talked of in the same way that someone might discuss the options on a new car. To have other people decide how your body will look for the rest of your life. I think she especially hated the idea of the rings, her body activity, the wiggling and tugging of bonds had increased markedly since that discussion. Kitten handed me the clipboard. "Sign," She said. I took the clipboard, "I want to talk to her." "Now?" Kitten asked. "Now." I said and picked up the pen. As I signed Kitten was reaching behind Beth's head to remove the gag. Now would come the moment of truth. I'd been a recruiter long enough to know that this was when you found out what you'd got. Almost by definition Doc's recruits were city girls. His "six week specials" we recruited from the urban poor, most of his "recondition women" worked in business or came from good families. As Doc's orders on local hunting meant that we hardly ever operated even in Boston, New York was actually our nearest major hunting ground. The trip to Doc's at a nice legal fifty involved at least one layover and at some stage the gag had to come out so that they could drink. How they reacted told you a lot about how they'd take training. The dumb ones start screaming and carrying on, call you names, scream for help etc. A few quick slaps are usually needed to bring them back in line long enough to feed and water them. The smart ones say nothing. They knew that you wouldn't be doing this anywhere they had a chance of rescue, they do nothing to provoke you, nothing that would risk you killing them. The real smart ones talk quietly to you hoping to get you on their side, I usually gag them again as soon as possible. Beth's gag popped out and she almost immediately started swearing. "Let me go you bitch," she demanded. Kitten's eyes rolled, St. Mary's girls seemed somewhat predictable. Beth turned to me, "Fucking ass hole! Should have realized you were a prick." Kitten smiled. "We could cut her vocal cords?" She offered, "It's not part of the usual service but it is effective." Beth stiffened, her reaction had been one hundred percent predictable, exactly what a St. Mary's girl spoilt and born to privilege would be expected to do. Now finally she realized her danger. "Please let me go, mister. I won't tell anyone. Promise!" I tried to look thoughtful, "What about Maria. My friend wants her baby so badly." "You can have it," Beth offered, "I'm sure if you let us go she'll give it to you." "But that mean's we'll have to wait nine months." She looked hopeful, "Let me go now and release Maria later. I can help you. I can tell people she's changed her mind, run away...." I was overwhelmed by her loyalty, just like her mother she used people up and spat them out. I decided it was time to tell her the truth. "Your mother's maiden name was Walters wasn't it." "Yes, but..." "Jane Walters..." Only then did she realize the significance, understood why she was here. "Oh god..." "That's right slut, the woman I told you about the one who jilted me, was your mother. You know I really used to like the idea of making your mother my slave, of bringing her up here and having Doc break her for me. Last night I realized something, I realized that all I wanted from your mother could be done in three days. I could pluck her off the street take her to a cabin in the woods somewhere and take everything I wanted in three days. Then I could just bury her up there. You see it wouldn't be worth making her a slave. She's what, thirty seven now? Loose pussy, sagging tits, why waste my time with her. The girl I really want is your mother as she was twenty years ago, young pussy in her prime. What do you have to say for yourself *Jane*?" "But I'm..." She began. I nodded to Kitten and the crop struck nipple once again. This time she did scream and immediately t