Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition (33 page)

Slave

      
With
this history, Lucy was not terribly surprised to find both Glenda and Brenda
under Fabian’s control as well. Although she apparently protested a bit, Brenda
seemed to relish the sub role for a change and Glenda was, as usual, studying
the entire situation, looking for weaknesses in Fabian’s plan and activities.
While Lucy was struggling and trying to find escapes, Brenda simply rolled with
the flow of events and let them do what they wanted with her and Glenda
suffered silently, waiting for her chance.

      
Besides
her sister’s and friend’s captive presence, Lucy had other concerns, mostly
physical. The things that had been done to her by her sister and then on the
train and then at Summer School and afterwards troubled her greatly. The
physical discomforts equaled the psychological ones and right at this moment,
the restraints and intrusive devices in her body made it very hard to think.
She was constantly wrestling mentally with the conflicts of her physical
feelings of a need for sexual gratification and her knowledge that what was
happening here was criminally wrong. She wondered though, exactly how Fabian
had captured Brenda. Had the younger girl in fact cooperated with Fabian? Had
she known it was coming? And most of all, had Brenda possibly had something to
do with Lucy’s capture? That would, of course, Lucy realized, explain how the
train abduction had been so easily pulled off.

      
Despite
Lucy’s suspicions, the plan to take Brenda was far simpler than the complex
scheme that Fabian devised to kidnap Lucy. In the middle of the night, two of
Fabian’s most trusted and experienced female operatives who had gotten
themselves assigned to the von Holt household security staff, walked into
Brenda’s bedroom where she always slept in the nude, and woke her at gunpoint.
Brenda offered no resistance as they bound and gagged her, and then lowered her
out one of the second story windows to another Fabian team member waiting
below. In less than five minutes, Brenda was off the family’s property and
taken to a nearby building where she was unpleasantly introduced to Fabian and
some of his toys. Both the capture crew and Fabian were a bit surprised that
Brenda put up virtually no resistance and did not object to the strict rope
bondage, the gag and eventually the tight leather discipline hood pulled over
her head. The girl was shipped to Prague that night in a fast truck. By
daylight, she was in The Greenhouse and by noon, the younger von Holt daughter
was swinging in her metal cage, sharing the torments that Fabian happily
provided for her and his other involuntary female guests.

      
Hanging
in her own cage, Lucy compared the events and experiences of the last year with
those she had shared with her sister. There were, she had to admit, some
interesting parallels and mostly all of them resulted, she had to admit, in her
expanding her own sexual knowledge while increasing her appetite for kinky
experiences. The plugs in her ass and cunt were familiar enough. She
humorlessly wondered why they kept jamming new and different probes up inside
her when they all had the same net effect. This particular pair of false dicks
was of the type Fabian had described in his lengthy marketing monologue. One
was equipped with dual hoses to flush and evacuate her ever empty bowels and
the other, shoved well up inside her cunt, was an annoying distraction that
shocked, inflated and vibrated at odd moments.

      
“If only Fabian had a better imagination,”
Lucy
thought.
“He seems to be stuck on this
double and triple plug routine and it’s getting pretty old. This has got to be
the tenth or twelfth set of these damned things I’ve had shoved up my ass and
cunt and I probably have calluses there by now.”

      
This
black humor was all she had to entertain herself while she swung back and forth
in the humid air of the giant greenhouse, surrounded by growing plants and the
other ten women. But after the other recent experiences, Lucy was grateful for
the respite in the hanging cage, for it compared quite favorably to the other
punishments she endured. In particular, if she ever had the opportunity to
avoid again meeting the mine operators, the insane sadists of the Marbella
family, Lucy was sure that she would rather endure a hundred of Fabian’s goofy
torments instead of even a few minutes on the terrible irrigation chair with
hoses and nozzles up inside her, sticking out of every possible body opening.
By comparison, this swinging in the cool
wind was heaven,
she thought.

      
Her
contemplation was interrupted by a scream and then more screams, all coming
from the area around Lucy. Because she was without sight, she could only assume
that one or more of the hanging ten was doing the yelling, but it sounded
terrible and it was very close. The ear pads of the brank insulated her from
much of the ambient noise in the greenhouse, but these blood-curdling cries
were coming through loud and clear. As she listened, she thought she could make
out the additional sound of what sounded all too much like a whip landing on
flesh. That, she decided immediately, was just cause for the screams, except that
as far as she knew, all the hanging ten were gagged in some way, probably not
as painfully as she was with a pin stuck through her tongue, but still firmly
gagged into silence. Certainly, she thought, no one who was gagged could be
screaming like this.

      
The
terrible noise went on and on, then suddenly stopped. There was once again the
silence of the plants and Lucy went back to wondering about Fabian and his
crazy plans for her. What was next? Was she really going to spend the rest of
her life in this awful cage? Would strangers come and remove her only to fuck
and whip her now and then?

      
As
she contemplated this, another girl with a different pitch and set of stronger
lungs began to holler and scream, this time even closer to Lucy. From the
sounds, she too was being flogged in a rapid rhythm. The screams lasted a few
minutes, then subsided into cries and whimpers, then stopped.

      
“Hi,
Lucy. You’re next.” A voice spoke into her electronic ear buds. It was female
and it was not a voice she knew. The metal plate over her mouth was unbolted
and the pin through her tongue sharply pulled out, then the interior packing
inside her stuffed oral cavity was quickly removed. “Anything you need before
we start?” the female voice said, dripping with sarcasm and instilling fear
into Lucy’s already troubled mind.

      
“Na,
no. Please. Can I see?” Lucy begged.

      
“Oh,
so you want to see it coming?”

      
“Yes.
Please,” she said.

      
“Good.”
And the blindfold panel of the brank was removed. Bright light flooded Lucy’s
eyes and she had to squeeze them shut because of the pain. As she tried to
focus on the room once again, the whip struck with all of its terrible
intensity across her tight, rounded ass.

      
The
blow was as it always was. A terrible surprise followed by waves of pain and
prolonged stinging afterwards. Before the sting even began to dissipate,
another blow traced the outlines of the last one and the patterns continued
until Lucy, like her hanging partners, screamed and cried endlessly. She didn’t
count the blows, but felt that there were about ten before it ended.

      
“Did
you see these coming, bitch?” the whipping woman, who was outside of Lucy’s
limited area of vision, asked cruelly as she gathered her whip, replaced Lucy’s
eye and mouth plates and left her there, for once without the pin or any
stuffing material in her mouth. Perhaps this was an oversight, but Lucy
welcomed the break from the constant gagging and settled into wondering about
how the marks on her breasts, back and thighs might look. She was somewhat
astonished to realize that throughout the session she was sexually aroused and
had been unconsciously humping the dual probes.

      
“
They are turning me into a sex
slave….finally…,”
she thought. Headmistress Wright at the riding school
told her several times that one of her objectives was to make sure that no one
in her care ever left without becoming addicted to the pain/pleasure syndrome,
but Lucy had not, as far as she could tell, moved into that state of mind by
the time she left the school.
Perhaps
that was why she was sold/leased to someone else
, she thought. “
Maybe, just possibly, I wasn’t seen as
really good mental material for such training. Well, this settled that,”
she thought.
“I guess I’m now a
masochistic sex slave, unconsciously yearning to be beaten and fucked until I
die. What a stupid fate!”

Close

      
As
soon as
Mickeal
and
Bibi
left the old windmill shed in Utrecht, they drove in
Bibi’s
rescued Mini back towards Amsterdam, all the while trying to reach Groff by
phone to let her know that they had a good lead on where Lucy might be. When
Groff answered, she told them to sit tight and that she was headed for Prague
and would contact them from there. About four hours later, while they sat in a
safe house that Ernst had provided, they again talked with Groff who said she
was now in the Four Seasons in Prague and was headed for the address the
capture gang provided to
Bibi
and
Mickeal
.

      
“I’ll
just scout the place and then we can make our plans. You two get over here
tonight if you can. There’s nothing commercial flying, so charter something
safe and fast and I’ll reserve a room for you
Mickeal
,
here.
Bibi
can bunk in with me.”

      
“We’ll
call you when he get there,”
Mickeal
said and broke
the connection.

      
The
Prague International airport is unique in its part of the world. Newly
constructed with a high sweeping interior, not unlike a dirigible hanger, it
has more space that its present amount of traffic demands. Guests waiting for
flights have the luxury of actually being able to walk about, sit down and enjoy
a meal, visit a cozy Internet café and watch the sights. Groff wasn’t
sightseeing. Her chartered Pilatus had been grounded in Frankfurt for
mechanical problems and rather than wait for it to be fixed or hire another
charter, she took a commercial Lufthansa flight to Prague as soon as she heard
from
Mickeal
that Fabian was probably there. Address
and a small GPS in hand, Groff breezed through the terminal, nearly colliding
with a pair of teenage girls on roller skates promoting something unfathomable
to Groff. Turning towards the taxi exits, she dodged again to avoid a trio of
joy riders on
Segways
, the two wheel, high tech
electric scooters that offered rides in the terminal areas. She went directly
out to a cab that took her on a thirty minute ride through the outlying
districts of the city to the Four Seasons Hotel on
Veleslavinova
,
a baroque and Neo-Renaissance styled block with an excellent restaurant on the
east side of the Vltava River.

      
Once
in her spacious room, Groff took out an old-fashioned city map, compared it
with the GPS and tried to figure out exactly where the address that
D’Alessandro had obtained might be. While all indications were that the address
was very near the common tourist site of Prague Castle, Groff wondered how
Fabian might carry on a major slave trading operation in such close proximity
to the St. Vitus cathedral and the castle.
Perhaps
,
she thought,
the very absurdity of the
idea was in fact its value. Who would look for such an illegal enterprise in
the middle of Prague’s tourist district?
Groff made several short phone
calls on her satellite phone, then dressed appropriately in thick soled, high,
black cleated boots, snugly fitted black leggings/tights and a heavy leather
jacket over a wool turtleneck body shirt. She left the hotel by a side door,
choosing to walk the short distance to the Charles Bridge. She crossed the
river with its sweeping view of the castle on the hill and the cathedral spires
reaching out from the walled compound on top. The wind blowing up the river was
chilling and the hundreds of tourists on the bridge hurried along, seldom
stopping at any of the dozens of peddlers selling cheap jewelry and hand
painted drawings of the city’s popular sites. The walkway was treacherous from
snow and ice freezing and refreezing daily. Apparently, Groff speculated, the
city didn’t want to clear the ice and snow from sidewalks or couldn’t afford to
do so.

      
Reaching
the west side of the bridge, she turned right past the costumed guard at the
tower and took the first twisting alleyway down and under the bridge. She
quickly found the address she sought and continued walking on past, scouting
the neighborhood, watching for anything which might indicate Fabian’s presence.

      
Number
29
Hroznova
was a slightly recessed doorway with iron
posts and locked gate. The brownstone building behind it was probably a century
or more old and showed a few barred windows, no lights and no sign of life. She
continued walking for about fifty meters, then turned around and started back.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something move out of an
alley to the right. She spun that way just in time to collide with a very large
woman who hit her in the stomach with a sort of short baseball bat. The blow
from the club knocked the wind out of her and Groff staggered back into the
alley, only to be grabbed from behind by someone who was very strong, but
probably didn’t have much combative training. Straining to catch her breath,
Groff pushed back against the body behind her, bent her knees and grabbed the
assailant’s forearms that were now around her neck. She lunged forward, bending
from the waist, thrusting her hips back into the belly of the person behind her
and pulling down on the arms at the same time. The effect was instantaneous. Groff’s
move created the perfect leverage to lift the attacker off her feet and propel
her forward. The surprised attacker flew overhead, performed an unintentional
summersault and landed on the ground with a thud, at the feet of the equally
stunned fat woman with the club. Groff’s now free hands went to her coat pocket
and pulled out an ASP retractable baton, pushing the release button on the
bottom and extending the three-foot length of gleaming steel rod. Swinging the
ASP like a dueling saber, Groff advanced on her attackers. The one on the
ground raised her arms to warn off the lethal steel wand, saying, “Non, non,”
but the fat lady was not as easily intimidated and came at Groff with her club
raised for a head blow. Groff moved right, conscious that she was going deeper
into the shadows of the alley, and landed a hard blow on the fat woman’s arm,
but she didn’t drop the club. Instead, she ducked her head and charged Groff
like an angry rhinoceros. The ASP landed two slashing blows on the fat woman’s
head and back and she slumped to the ground, at least temporarily subdued.

      
Groff
backed off, moving slowly towards the entry of the alley, seeking a more public
area and an opportunity to summon some relief if needed. Again, her peripheral
vision sensed rather than actually saw something that looked like a small bird,
maybe a humming bird, as unlikely as it would be here in Prague in the middle
of winter.

      
The
blow caught her behind the right ear and knocked her down, immediately
unconscious. She woke up in total darkness, struggling against a mass of
restraints that pinned her to a flat slab. The opaque darkness surrounding her
left her convinced that she had lost her sight from the hammer-like impact to
her head. Groff lay on her back, her head enclosed in some sort of tight hood,
her mouth stuffed with a soft, pliable material. She was unable to move her
arms and legs and there was a tight constriction around her waist, squeezing
her ribs and holding her to the cold stone surface below. The more she tested her
bonds, the tighter they seemed to become. Her head was killing her and the hood
wasn’t helping. Groff tried to relax and let the pain in her head slowly
dissipate. It took awhile.

      
She
listened for any sounds, but the hood seemed to have earplugs incorporated
inside it. She felt some light vibration from time to time and assumed that if
she was now inside the house that she was passing when she was hit, the vibes
were from traffic on a nearby road or from the subway that might be nearby.

      
“
What the hell?
I let myself get suckered into this. Someone must have followed me from
the hotel. And how did they even know I was here? I told no one about my plans
except
Mickeal
and he probably told
Bibi
. Who else knew? Who whacked me on the street?”

      
Time
passed. Groff went in and out of semi-consciousness, testing her bonds and
deciding that sooner or later, someone would come. Meanwhile, she was pretty
much at the disposal of whoever had decided to take her prisoner.

      
Eventually,
they arrived. Although she couldn’t see them, in her heart Groff knew that it
was Fabian, if for no other reason than the odd Dutch accent and the flippant
attitude.
Fabian would make the perfect
brilliant and demented villain in a spy movie,
Groff thought.

      
“You
certainly aren’t much of a detective, Frau Groff,” the male voice said in her
ears. The sound was somewhat electronic and Groff realized that it was coming
through tiny ear buds imbedded in the silencing pads of the hood she wore. “How
very convenient of you to show up. Now all we need is your little friend with
the big tits and we’ll have a trio to entertain us.”
      
“Big
tits?”
Groff thought.
“He’s got to
mean
Bibi
. Funny though. I never thought of her as
having especially large tits…but then again, I never saw her naked. Maybe the kid
is holding out on us older gals.”

      
“Anyway,
Jean, and I may call you Jean, can’t I? We are moving …well, actually we have
already moved…to a place that allows us a bit more operating freedom. And you
will, of course, accompany us. My associates here will get you ready, but let
me warn you, we are very well equipped to handle you and anyone else like you.
If you cooperate with us, you will be bound, gagged, and kept immobile, but we
will not hurt or harm you. Give us any trouble, even a complaint, and you will
be very sorry. You are familiar with a
taser
, I’m
sure. We use them quite frequently and that is in fact what took you out so
quickly. It felt like a baseball bat to your head, right?” Groff nodded
slightly, as much as the restraining gear and hood allowed.

      
“So,
will you cooperate or do you want to test the
taser
effects once again?”

      
Groff
hummed in what she thought was an affirmative way.

      
“Good.
Ginger here will help you with your clothes. We’ll take good care of all of
your expensive garments, although I don’t think you’ll need them where we are
going. They will be appreciated by someone else, I am sure. Unstrap her and
strip her. See you later, Jean.” The sound switched off and Groff felt hands on
her body and straps loosening. They had her sit up and quickly removed all of
the bonds except the helmet/hood. She remained relaxed and let them do what
they wanted. Until she could see, she figured there was no use in fighting.

      
They
took everything she wore and left her standing with only the hood, hands at her
sides, feet together. They pushed her down into a kneeling position and then
forward onto the floor which had some sort of carpet. She lay on her stomach
while her arms were strapped together behind her back, wrists to elbows and
forearms tightly parallel together. Her legs were doubled up and strapped,
calves to thighs and her ankles shackled with a foot or more of chain between
them. A heavy collar was fitted around her neck. She kept her head turned to
one side, the right ear pressed against the carpet, while they tightened more
wide leather straps around her waist, chest and thighs. The chest straps went
under and over her breasts, over each bicep and were cinched under each arm.
There were several large D rings spaced around the circumference of all straps,
providing convenient attachment points. The thigh straps were the same design
and all were pulled very tight with the roller buckles cranked as far as
possible. The position was not uncomfortable, but she remained totally
helpless. Some sort of lifting apparatus was attached to the D rings on the
thigh, waist and arm straps and she felt herself being hoisted into the air,
moved a short distance and then lowered into a coffin or box. The lifting
connection chains were removed and the lid of the metal box closed. Groff
wondered if there was an air source inside, but it made no difference. There
seemed no reason why they would have gone to all of this trouble if they were
going to kill her by asphyxiation, so she tried to relax, shifting her position
slightly in the box. Soon, it was lifted and moved some distance and then the
motion stopped. The box was inside some sort of vehicle and in a few minutes,
she felt the movement and knew they were driving her somewhere.

      
At
the next stop, the box was unloaded. Chains with snap hooks were attached to
the same D rings at six locations on her body straps and Groff was hoisted up
and out once again, only to find herself forced to remain in this suspension,
with the multiple straps holding her in the air, a rope or chain pulling her
hooded head back so that she would be looking forward, if she could see. Her
legs were pulled wide apart by the thigh straps, exposing her ass and sex
rather blatantly, she thought. She twisted in the straps and found no way to
close her legs and no contact with anything. No floor. No walls. Just air.