JASON (2 page)

“You’ll find out when we get there. Take the second left and pull into the third driveway on the right.”

Jason was led into a large home with an expensively furnished living room, reeking of the delicate, beautiful flavor of the orient. While sipping brandy, he waited with his escort. Another oriental man walked in, wearing a kimono style robe. He was closely followed by a young woman in a form-fitting embroidered silk dress, being led by a leash attached to an ornamental collar. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

The girl knelt silently by his side when he sat down. A few seconds later, Jason’s eyes widened when the man lashed a cane across her lower back. The girl’s eyes watered, but she never made a sound. “Arch,” the man demanded. Her brown bob wavered while she thrust her chest out, straining her breasts against the shiny material.

“I am Makoto. I trust your ride with Takeshi was not too unpleasant.”

“I’m Jason… and it would have been a hell of a lot more unpleasant if he’d shot me,” Jason suggested. “I take it that’s not what you have in mind.”

Makoto chuckled. “Though she claims she never saw you, Helen remembered you as a big man, Jason. She has a crazy talent for recognizing smells, and she said there was an overpowering scent of different perfumes when she was held captive in your van. Tell me about yourself. I am especially interested in your reasons for borrowing my whore for a few days.” Makoto noticed Jason’s interest in the slave kneeling beside him. “She is relatively new and still learning proper presentation,” he dismissed.

Jason remained silent, trying to get his bearings and gain a better understanding of what was going on. The thought that the whore had recognized the overabundant scents of different women in his van intrigued him. He detailed and cleaned it thoroughly after the captures, and had never noticed it. Jason was deciding how much he should reveal. “I have interests that tend to be more extreme than street prostitutes are willing to accept payment for.”

Makoto stared into the man’s unusual purple tinged eyes. There was a definite heat building when he looked at the pathetic girl kneeling beside him. She was weak… too weak for the street or a brothel. Certainly too weak for his clubs or to auction to a client, but he sensed something special about her. Makoto had been deciding whether to cut his losses and throw her in with the domestic servants, so for the time being he kept her. “I don’t think you intend to pay for these services, anyway. How many girls have you extended your unwelcome invitation to, for these ‘extreme’ interests? With Helen’s description of her time with you, I am certain she was not your first guest. How many women have you abducted?”

Jason felt his balls instinctively draw up with the fear of discovery. The steady gaze of the man made Jason feel like an amateur. It became apparent that the girl by his host’s side was not a willing submissive partner to the man. She was his slave, and not like the partners he had witnessed in the clubs. “I lost count,” Jason admitted. “I don’t keep them very long. At first, I kept them in vans for a few hours. The past couple of years I’ve brought them to my home and kept them two or three days.”

Makoto stroked the girl’s short brown hair and Jason read the panic in her eyes. It gave Jason a heightened sense of arousal, and he realized how much he had been missing by keeping his captives’ faces covered. The man’s hand threaded through the girl’s locks and he lifted her. “Refresh our brandy.”

“Yes, Master,” the girl murmured, and she scurried across the room to the liquor cabinet.

Makoto watched his guest’s eyes follow the girl, and in a steady voice, he said, “I keep them for more than a few days, Jason.” Makoto let his remark sink in while the girl delivered their drinks. She resumed kneeling by his side and remembered to arch appropriately into position. “Helen says you kept a blindfold on her.”

Jason nodded, and added, “I use to cover their heads with a cloth bag. It was quicker, but I couldn’t read their faces or get an idea of what they were experiencing… except through their gagged protests or thrashing.”

Makoto studied the man. “Why do you release them?”

“I’m not set up to take care of one for an extended period of time. I also haven’t found one that I want that kind of commitment to. It would be messy getting rid of them if they have seen me or been with me long enough to give police information. Murder leaves far more clues, and it alerts much more investigation than I want,” Jason replied. He did not add that he had no interest in killing any of his captives. They had given him a pleasurable experience of controlling their passion and fear. To end their time together with such finality seemed almost like completely erasing the act.

“Ah, then it’s the disposal you have a problem with?” Makoto expressed with approval. He did not want to get involved with a murderer, and being an excellent judge of character he could tell the man seated across the room had potential.

“That, and as I mentioned, I’m not really set up for a long term arrangement.”

“Yes, Helen mentioned no cages or equipment she was familiar with,” Makoto agreed. “Tell me, Jason, if these things were not a problem, could you acquire young women with a more refined pedigree? I’m not interested in whores.”

“I began with college girls.” Jason was finding himself intrigued with the direction the discussion was heading.

“Work is no problem?” Makoto pressed. “Your living situation?”

“I have a house in the valley and I’m a layoff at a tech firm. I received a settlement and had saved enough funds to take a few years off. My plan was to begin sending feelers out for a job in six months.”

“The arrangement I have in mind means that you would not be responsible for the disposal of the girls. Due to my requirement that they be of a better class and may be searched for, it would be best for you to be liquid.” Makoto tented his hands in thought. “You would have to sell your house, and we would buy one more centrally located.”

“How many girls do you want?” Jason asked uneasily.

“Five or so a year. I pickup runaways for stables and the street, but I need good auction quality girls without a history of drugs. I want girls who have taken care of themselves and have the mental capacity and strength to be trained.”

Jason sat back and took a sip of his drink. “I’m listening.”

“I would send you to my training compound back home, so you can see our operation. They can do the finishing training, but you would be responsible for acquiring the young women and making them willing participants in their new submissive lifestyle. Keep them with you for a few months until you’ve collected your five, and then bring them back to the compound where you will work with my trainers on their final conditioning. That also gets you out of the area they were taken from. It would be in both our financial interests to have you present them at auction, and then we begin again with the abductions occurring in a different location.”

Jason smiled. “And I’d get
paid
for this?”

Makoto laughed. “Paid, and all housing, vehicles, and supplies provided for you… as well as enhancing your equipment as you refine your technique.”

Jason lifted his glass in salute. “Count me in.” He grinned at Takeshi. “Way better than getting shot.”

“You’re just lucky I believed Helen when she told me what had happened. I whipped the shit out her, anyway,” he shrugged. “Don’t need her thinking she can just take off and make up stories. I was beginning to doubt her when you never showed up, until other whores began talking about the same shit happening to them.”

“We have an agreement?” Makoto confirmed. Jason nodded. “Put your house up for sale and be ready to travel in three days. Takeshi will accompany you.”

Jason understood that, although they had an agreement, Makoto was going to use Takeshi’s eyes to watch over him. Paranoia went along with the territory.

Within a week, Jason was crossing the ocean to learn the specifics of his new job. Within a year, he was back in the orient helping with the final training of his first supply of auction slaves. At Jason’s request, Makoto had purchased the farm in Arkansas. Jason had not been back since he had graduated from college. The simple country lifestyle, and simple country cops, were like sliding on a comfortable pair of jeans.

Life was good. Life was
damn
good.

Chapter I

Nancy wrapped her hands around the chains, gripping the metal links so tightly they dug into her palms. Restrained as she was, this was the only the only way she could attempt to distract herself and try to control her rising panic. She was naked; spread wide on an X frame in the middle of a stage. Burning spotlights were focused on her pale, slim body while she trembled, knocking small rivulets of sweat loose from their precarious perch on her nipples and slick torso. Nancy tried to focus on their descent. The salty droplets tickled when they lost their hold and slid down her quivering belly and thighs.

Her frightened green eyes stared into the black abyss surrounding the stage. She knew that men were sitting in the darkness; silent forms watching monitors on their tables while they studied intimate statistics and pictures of her. Before the night ended… in a few moments, in fact… one of those men would own her future. One of those shadows in the dark, would own
her
. The thought was both terrifying and exciting.

For months, Nancy had been trained for this transition. She had been carefully stripped of any sense of pride and self-worth, and transformed into a submissive slave with only one goal and desire… to pleasure her unknown new Master. Frightening questions bombarded her thoughts. She worried that she would not be able to please a new Master. A bigger concern was that none of the shadowed figures in the audience would find her worthy enough to bid on.
Oh, god. Oh, please.

Less than seven months ago, Nancy would have found her exposed positioning to be a humiliating terror. She would have screamed and sobbed, pleading to be set free. The tight restraints secured her nude, young body before the anonymous men while they studied her quivering naked breasts, narrowed their eyes on her nipples that had tightened to firm reddened knobs from her fear, and then narrowed them further while they stared at her spread sex lips. They were open so wide by the cuffs securing her ankles that her pink folds could be seen by the clients in the front row.

Exposing her treasures, displaying her most intimate parts, had become a natural act for her. Nancy had been guided to fully understand that her worth was no than the sum of her sexual features and her ability to fulfill her Master’s desires. Now, it was merely the fear of being purchased by a stranger, or, worse, not being purchased, that made her nervous.

Master Jason had assured her that she was properly prepared for a new owner, but Nancy was not convinced. If her hands were free, she would be nibbling at a fingernail. It was an annoying habit that had taken weeks of training to break. Nancy had less time alone with Master Jason in the beginning and he continued to spend more time with the others when they arrived at the compound.

With fascinated trepidation, Nancy had watched as her sister slaves were sold before her. Even though they rarely spoke or interacted with each other, Nancy thought of them as her sisters. They were the other girls that had shared that terrifying time in darkness while their abductor trained them in all manner of sexual perversions. The slight twitch of a smile at the corner of Master Jason’s mouth assured Nancy that he had been pleased with the bids the sister slaves had brought. She hoped she would not disgrace herself and dishonor his training by failing to bring him a substantial sum.

Even though she did not expect to bring the high bids her sister slaves trained in pain or more advanced technique had earned, Nancy had secretly acknowledged her relief that her training had been limited to pleasure. She had been the last one he kidnapped, and Master Jason worked with her for only one month before placing her into the square wood crate.

While Nancy anxiously waited for the Master to begin her display, her mind wandered to the terrifying ordeal of being shipped overseas. Master Jason had not told the girls what was happening. The last day they woke in their dank basement cages, they were led individually up the stairs. The wood steps creaked under their weight and Nancy trembled. She remembered the many times she had heard the sound from her cage when her Master walked down to the cellar to train her and the sister slaves in some new erotic torture.

With her twisting hands latched behind her back, Nancy had to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying and asking the Master what was going to happen. His strong hand gripping her arm while they climbed offered her some reassurance. Over the weeks in the cellar in blindness, she had learned to depend on him for everything.

Her bare feet felt tile when they reached the top and Nancy’s eyes filled with tears. Her knees almost buckled from fear as the Master led her further into the upstairs rooms of the house. She was petrified with the thought that he was finished with her, and she wondered if he would kill her, or release her. The latter consideration was just as frightening and depressing. Nancy fought the need to beg him to keep her. She was blind, and he had guided her with gentle caresses, teaching her to explore and exhibit her desire. The outside world was empty and it could never offer her the comforting world of the Master’s realm of dark pleasure.

Eventually they stopped, and Master Jason ordered her to kneel inside a big box. Nancy was terrified when he secured her, bolting her cuffs to the sides and locking other belts that he had wrapped around her. When a gag was shoved into her mouth and strapped around her head, she searched blindly for her Master, crying in fear. The Master had stroked her forehead and he gave her a sedative that would keep her calm until the private jet’s last refueling at some pokey airstrip on the coast. During the short layover, he injected a final dose for the flight overseas, and Nancy’s blind gaze stared up into his face in sluggish apprehension.

It was hard to consider that less than a year ago Nancy had been stretching new wings of independence and trying to land an acting role in New York. She was certain that her disappearance was reported by her roommate, but they never would have thought to search for her in a farmhouse in Arkansas. Eventually, she worked through her despair and her hope of being rescued when she had been shipped out of the country. Her old life was over, and she focused on Master Jason’s demands in an attempt to make her new life as comfortable as possible.

In the compound, there had been other Masters who trained her in submissive slave etiquette while Jason continued to work with her on arousal and passion. Nancy’s punishments consisted of denial or being restrained, and she was grateful she was not a pain slave like two of her sister slaves were.

The young women were housed together in a large room with terrifying devices. The two pain slaves were ruthlessly tortured on the equipment with excruciating… maddening… precision and detail for their performance and responses.
Dear god
. Nancy was certain she would have died if she had had to go through such agony. Just watching her sisters’ acceptance of their lot caused Nancy to renew her efforts at pleasuring the men. Anything, so she would not be helplessly bound to a post and lashed until the sobbing ended and she stared into space, eventually climaxing before the whipping would stop.

Nancy fearfully brought her thoughts back to the present when Master Jason approached her. She felt her pussy clench and wet. She was always damp now, and her cream began sliding from of her channel whenever he approached or spoke to her. A slight relief washed through her, because this was a reaction he demanded and she knew that it pleased him. The anxious look in her eyes was replaced by a gaze of intense devotion. Her mind still rebelled on occasion, but her body never denied its aroused response to him.

The Master cupped her chin and she stared into his violet blue eyes. Sadistic cruelty shined in them and she shivered with anticipation. “You will not climax without permission.”

“Yes, Master Jason.” Nancy wanted to beg him not to sell her. He had always told her that she was being trained for a new Master, and now that the time was at hand she was frightened. How she wished she were back in the safety of her cage in Arkansas, instead of facing a sea of shadowed faces.

Nancy worked to control her fear so she would not disgrace herself by disobeying his order. The Master had only denied her orgasm a few times, and ultimately she always failed. After months of encouragement to climax at his touch… or sometimes just his voice… it caused excruciating cramps and pain when she tried to hold back.

Nancy felt his finger slip between her pussy lips and she hissed. There were cameras recording every part of her. They broadcast her frightened green eyes that beat with passion when she looked at Jason, captured the gentle roll of her cupcake-sized breasts, scanned down the panting rib cage that was already fighting to control her gasps, and lingered on the pussy that was sluicing glistening juice down the insides of her pale thighs.

Nancy moaned and rocked into his hand while Jason studied the small monitor behind her that was registering the bids. He was sliding his fingers and encouraging her to thrust. God, how she longed to stay with him. “Please,” she whispered, and his finger pushed into her clasping channel. It gripped onto the friction of his plunging while she moaned.

“Not yet, slave N.” Jason stood on the stage with the spotlights aimed at the girl stretched on the frame. Makoto would be watching carefully and encouraging the clients to place higher bids. Jason’s responsibility was to show his five slaves to their best advantage.

The first four were presented and brought a good price… a little higher than he had anticipated. Slave N was last, and although she had the healthy innocence that commanded lucrative bids, her ambition caused a slight lack of control that made it difficult for her to follow his requests. It was expected with such a short time to work with her, before she was crated and shipped to the overseas compound.

Jason stroked and spread her juices while turning to the unknown audience. “Slave N is a pleasure slave. Her pussy, ass, and mouth will always be ready and willing to accommodate her new Master. Correction and punishment have been delivered through denial and restraints. This makes her an open canvas for a Master who wishes to train her for more extreme forms of punishment.”

Jason knew that the camera was zooming in on his hand and the girl’s dripping sex. The bidders were watching on the closed circuit televisions in their cubicles. Jason glanced at his small screen located behind the girl, and he watched the current bid. Slave N was opening at fifty thousand… and so far, no one had bid higher.

Jason pumped his finger inside of her and leaned down to remind her in a whisper, “You will not climax without permission.”

Slave N whined and she looked frantically towards the audience for help.
Please. Oh, god. Please. Somebody buy me.
She needed to climax and knew that he would not grant her permission until an appropriate amount was declared. Her channel gripped around his finger and she hissed again when he stroked her clit with his thumb.
Oh, god.

Tears began silently dripping down her cheeks while she clenched her jaw and began rocking into his hand. Cream drooled down her thighs and Jason glanced at the monitor. The look on her face was painfully beautiful as she suffered her passionate torment. One twenty-five. Hell, he would have been happy with one hundred thousand. His two for pain brought almost three hundred each, with over two hundred for the other two.

Takeshi earned one fifty for six used up brothel whores and Makoto took in one seventy-five for a domestic slave. Makoto ran slavers like Jason and Takeshi from a few different countries. Takeshi was his right hand man and kept Makoto’s empire running smoothly. To soothe Takeshi’s sadistic interests, and as he did not have time to commit to a training schedule, Makoto allowed him to run the street prostitutes.

Jason had met a few of the other trainers in the compound and he figured Makoto was earning millions from his enterprise. Jason was happy with forty percent from the girls he prepared. Makoto covered virtually all of his living expenses, so his earnings were kept in savings and investments. Jason was earning half a million a year training the women he abducted.

Slave N was climaxing and trying to hold back humiliating sobs. In her mind, she had failed and disgraced herself and her Master. Jason knew that she had no idea what an arousing display she had performed. Just as she finished her quivering release, he leaned down and said, “You did well. I hope you enjoy Russia.” Nancy sagged in relief on the X frame.

Makoto asked Jason to meet him in his suite, after the girls were sent to transport to be crated for their new owners. “The farmhouse has been cleaned and restocked. It will be ready when you return to Arkansas.”

“Was Takeshi able to get that other equipment?”

“Yes, and the workers are finished installing the new surveillance cameras, so by the time we fly back you’ll be set. Have you selected the girls?”

“I’ve narrowed it down. I’ll take a few weeks to get a better idea of their strengths and weaknesses. I also want to see them in person, because sometimes photographs are retouched or don’t give an accurate depiction of potential flaws. By the time I make my decision, I should have a good idea of who can adjust. I don’t want to waste time on a girl who’ll shut down or continue to be a blubbering mess.” Jason sipped some brandy. “I heard a guy confessed to grabbing these last five.”

Makoto chuckled and nodded. “Some serial nut who can’t remember
who
the hell he’s kidnapped. I think he’s taken credit and owned up to more than thirty. Those lazy cops are turning in open cases and he’s confessing to just about any disappearance the police are throwing at him.”

“Hell.” Jason lifted his snifter. “Here’s to boasting criminals. Fine by me if they want to take the credit.” Jason never worried about being caught. He limited himself to five a year, and they all came from different towns and states with different backgrounds and physical characteristics. Although his methods followed a distinct, personal pattern, it was something law enforcement had never tied together.

A week later, Jason was in Arkansas and preparing for his next round of slaves. The farmhouse stood back from the road, protected not only by its isolation but also by fields of crops and a guardhouse of workers stationed by the front gate. Takeshi had managed to get his equipment installed, and Jason would spend a few weeks on finishing touches and familiarizing himself with the areas he would be cruising for the women. On the way back from the compound, Makoto had suggested a change in plans that moved Jason’s fantasy prey to reality.