Wolf's Clothing Ch. 03byToughLiberalism©
Campbell's mind was in turmoil as he sat in the van. Given that he was free and directing operations, while Alice was hogtied and gagged on the floor, he felt surprisingly at her mercy. He had managed to take her without allowing her to compromise his cover, but his difficulties were only just beginning. There was no doubt in his mind that she assumed he was a traitor who had deliberately suggested her as a potential target. She had no way of knowing that he had been put in an impossible situation. At some stage she would have the opportunity to reveal his true identity to the organisation. Then his life would be worth nothing. He could expect no consideration from her after what he had done.
He had to find a way of getting a message to her. She needed to know urgently that he was still on her side. Even then, there was no guarantee that she would go along with his strategy. They would both be gambling on his ability to bring down the organisation before she disappeared, without trace, to a fate worse than death. The odds did not look good.
His first thought, after The Postman had given him his unwanted assignment, was to get a warning to her, even if it meant abandoning the mission. But there had been no opportunity. The Postman had taken him straight to check into a hotel for the night, which was already well advanced after the capture of the previous victim. Evidently it was a hotel in the pay of the organisation, because The Postman clearly knew the staff, he took the room next door to Campbell, and when Campbell looked through his spy-hole into the corridor he could see that it was guarded by men loyal to the organisation. There was no way of giving them the slip.
After very little sleep, Campbell was taken the next day to meet his team. To Campbell's dismay they had the appearance of hard men, who would not be pushovers in a fight. The morning and early afternoon were spent making preparations for Alice's capture, then they set off for her flat to wait for her to get home from work. Around lunchtime Campbell realised that he could no longer risk leaving to warn Alice, even if the opportunity arose, because there was a danger that the organisation would get to her before he could do so. This would leave them in the worst possible situation, with his cover blown and Alice in their clutches, never to be seen again. He resolved to grit his teeth and go through with the distasteful plan, banking on his ability to maintain contact with the captive Alice until she could be rescued.
The stress had made him behave erratically during Alice's abduction and he worried that his team-mates would notice. When one of the men had pulled Alice's panties off in order to gag her, evidently delighting in her humiliation, it had been all Campbell could do not to shoot the man on the spot. Campbell had then barked his refusal to sit in the front of the van, choosing instead the discomfort of the back, so he could keep an eye on her helpless form and prevent the men from taking advantage of her. Now he found himself kneeling on the floor beside her, resting his hand on her back as he forced his exhausted brain to consider the situation repeatedly.
He was beginning to realise quite how deeply he cared for Alice. In a way it surprised him that his reaction was so strong. After all, he had played a role in sending several innocent young women to a living hell as sex slaves. His conscience had frequently troubled him, but he had always resolved his doubts by reminding himself of the bigger picture. The organisation had to be destroyed for the benefit of the many. The needs of the unfortunate few came a distant second.
But this time was different. He just could not manage to master his emotions. It was impossible for him to get his mind away from the memory of Alice's look of concentration, her warm embrace and the smooth skin of her body. Almost without realising it he started to stroke her back gently, scant comfort though he knew it would give her. Under no circumstances could he ever abandon her. He would have to try to save her, even if it cost him his life.
Suddenly he became aware that the team member who shared the back of the van with him had noticed the tenderness of his caresses and was looking at him strangely. Immediately Campbell felt the need to compensate. He moved his hand lower and slapped Alice on the arse. Even through the fabric of her skirt, the blow must have stung, because he heard a squeal from inside her hood, muffled though it was by her gag. 'She's a hot one, isn't she?' he said to the other man, feigning a callousness which he did not feel. 'I hope they want her trained before they send her away.'
Evidently unimpressed, the other man simply grunted at first. 'I prefer them younger,' he replied, after a moment's pause.
The two men sank into an uncomfortable silence for the rest of the journey and Campbell returned to his anxieties. But they were tempered by more unsavoury ideas, resulting from his slap to Alice's arse. These thoughts forced him to question his own human decency. He had left his hand resting on Alice's rear after spanking her, and he could feel her shapely flesh through the clothing. Before long he felt his cock stirring slightly as his mind wandered to what he could do to her while she was helpless like this. He would start by getting rid of that skirt. Her butt would look perfect then, round and exposed below her shirt. Somehow the presence of other clothing would make the nakedness of her arse even more appealing. Then he would spank her properly, not just with the odd slap, but with a sustained and hard assault. He could imagine her noises as he did so. The thought of those squeals coming through the soaking panties in her mouth turned him on even more, and his cock made further efforts to remind him of its presence, pushing hard against his underwear.
Campbell's disturbing thought process was interrupted by their arrival at the destination. The Postman chose a different venue to meet the teams after each capture, with the aim of making it harder for anyone to track them. This time he had told them to meet him at a private airfield just outside of London. The choice of location was a worrying one, because it suggested that Alice was to be whisked straight out of the country. Once she was airborne, tracing her would be well nigh impossible. Campbell had tasked himself to think of a way to detain her on the ground for as long as possible. Instead, he had allowed himself to be distracted with fantasies of what he could do to her bound body. He needed to start thinking with his brain instead of with his balls.
The van was waved through the airfield gates and the driver took them straight to a hangar, steering inside it and coming to a halt. When Campbell opened the sliding door of the van, he found himself looking at a small jet, its engines already running. This did not increase his optimism about a lengthy delay. The Postman stood at the top of the aircraft's steps, his slight figure framed in the doorway. 'Bring her straight on board,' he ordered, shouting to be heard above the noise of the plane.
One of Campbell's colleagues moved towards the bound figure of Alice, but Campbell gestured him away. He was allowing nobody else to manhandle her. Pulling a small penknife from his pocket he slashed the rope which confined her in a hogtie, watching her legs stretch out in relief when he did so. Then he reached for her ankles and cut the bond which connected them. Once her legs were free, he rolled her over until she was resting on her bound hands, then lifted her in his arms, like a baby. With some difficulty he stood, carried his burden out of the van and towards the plane. It was only a few paces from one vehicle to another. Once he had covered the short distance, Campbell deposited Alice on her feet on the lowest step to the plane.
Alice hesitated for a moment, presumably waiting for her circulation to return to normal and to buy herself time to work out what was expected of her. Allowing for the fact that she was still hooded and could see nothing, Campbell placed his hands on her hips, turned her so she was facing in the right direction, and gently pushed her up the steps and into the plane. He then steered her into the tiny cabin, following The Postman, who quickly ensconced himself in one of the leather seats.
The Postman gestured Campbell to another of the chairs, but told him to leave Alice standing in the narrow aisle. Before he sat down, Campbell reached to remove the bag from her head. 'Leave it!' The Postman snapped. 'No need to go easy on the bitch.'
Campbell squashed his natural instinct to hit the man and obeyed, leaving his charge sightless and swaying slightly on her bare feet, her hands still tightly tied behind her back. He could not reconcile his conflicting feelings about her. On the one hand, he found her situation pitiful and wanted to rescue her more than anything else. On the other, he was still aroused by her predicament and desperately wanted to force himself on her captive body. He couldn't help wondering which Campbell would win if The Postman suddenly left him alone with Alice. Would the policeman come to the fore, freeing the girl and escaping with her, or would the white slaver take control, sating his lusts on the hapless victim? He didn't want to know the answer.
In any case, The Postman did not give him the opportunity to find out, because he did not go away. Moreover, the man was behaving uncharacteristically. Normally he showed no interest in the captives whatsoever, other than as pieces of merchandise, but this time Campbell noticed a glint in his superior's eye as he looked Alice up and down. 'So this is the intrepid sleuth,' The Postman gloated. 'How close were you to bringing us down, girl? No doubt you were on the cusp of a major breakthrough.' The glee in his voice was unmistakeable. 'This latest development is a bit of a setback for you, isn't it? Looks like it's you who's going down instead of us. Over and over again, I'd imagine, by the time your new owner gets hold of you.'
Of course, Alice's mouth was thoroughly stuffed with her own panties, so she could say nothing in reply to the taunts. Campbell could not even see her reaction, as the bag still covered her face. But he knew how devastating it must be for Alice. Not only was there the professional failure, which was crushing enough to a dedicated public servant like her, but there was also the terrible personal price she had to pay for defeat. She would become the property of some unscrupulous pervert, spending her days as his sex toy. Campbell had to admit that he was turned on by the idea of dominating Alice, but thinking of her belonging to another man was a different matter, and listening while The Postman humiliated her about it was certainly not his idea of a good time. But it was serving the purpose of delaying her departure, so Campbell gritted his teeth and allowed it to continue.
'Shall we see what our client is going to get for his hard-earned cash?' The Postman asked, looking in Campbell's direction. Understanding that this meant the removal of her clothing, Campbell made a move to stand and carry out the task. The Postman had other plans, however, because he reached across to detain Campbell in his seat. 'I'm sure she knows how to take her own clothes off,' he said. 'In fact, I'd wager that a slut like this probably does it for a pastime.'
The Postman stood up himself and held out an open hand in Campbell's direction. 'Knife?' he requested. Campbell handed him the pocket knife he had used earlier to release Alice's hogtie. The Postman walked behind Alice and cut the rope binding her hands, before taking his seat once more. Alice brought her arms to her front and rubbed her wrists, which had been tightly tied for some time. Then she reached up to remove the hood.
'Not that!' The Postman snapped. 'You'll take off what I tell you and only what I tell you. Your face is by far the least interesting bit of you. First we're going to have a look at the goods under that shirt, so lose it.'
There was a pause, and Campbell wondered if Alice was going to defy her captor. Part of him wanted her to do so, while the other was longing for her to strip. The Postman evidently grew impatient, because he raised his voice when he spoke again. 'Get on with it, woman!' he ordered. 'We haven't got all night.'
Evidently Alice decided that obedience was her best course of action for now, because she reached up for the first button of her shirt which was fastened. It was the third button down. Campbell had noticed when she had answered the door to him earlier that her shirt had looked a little dishevelled and was allowing more cleavage than normal to show. But it was nothing compared to what she was about to put on display. He noticed her hands trembling slightly as they fumbled with the button, but once the first one was released, the rest gave way more easily. Gradually her shirt peeled apart as she moved her hands lower and lower. In its place, her white bra and trim stomach became tantalisingly visible. Finally all the buttons were open and she hesitated once more, before shrugging the shirt off altogether, allowing it to drop to the floor behind her.
Campbell remembered more clearly than ever why he had found her so attractive before. He remembered running his hands over those slender shoulders and kissing the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. He looked at her bra, which was well-fitted, but white and plain. When she had been with him she had generally chosen more interesting options. Even so, it cupped her breasts nicely, as if offering them up for the approval of her abductors.
'Keep going,' The Postman instructed, and Alice reached behind her back to unfasten the bra. She did so with a little difficulty, but eventually managed to release the garment, slipping her arms out of the straps and dropping it alongside her shirt. She made no move to cover her breasts, presumably because she was aware of the futility of such a gesture. She simply stood, topless before the two men, with her hands at her sides and her pert breasts on display. Campbell could not help admiring her calmness at being forced to strip.
But his admiration was mingled with lust. He looked at her nipples, which were erect at their sudden exposure to the cool air inside the plane. He remembered occasions when he had taken each one in his mouth in turn, using his tongue to bring it to full firmness, then drawing a squeal from Alice as he suddenly applied his teeth. Right now it was all he could do to force himself to remain in his seat and not rush to hold those breasts once more. He could almost feel their silky feminine softness, yielding to his strong hands.
But evidently The Postman was less impressed. 'She's a bit on the small side in the chest department, but I suppose she'll do,' he commented. 'I think her appeal to the buyer has less to do with what she looks like and more to do with the fact that she's one of the enemy. He likes the idea of enjoying the spoils of war, I suppose.' Again he finished by addressing himself to Alice. 'Keep going. Let's see what else you've got to offer.'
Only Alice's skirt remained of the outfit she had worn to work that day. Her jacket, tights and shoes had been removed of her own volition in her flat earlier, in order to pleasure herself. Her panties had been taken from her by force when she was kidnapped, and were now occupying her mouth. She had just been forced to take off her shirt and bra at The Postman's instructions, and now she reached for the waistband of her one remaining covering and pulled down the skirt's zip.
Once the zip was undone, Alice slid the skirt over her hips and pushed it down her shapely upper legs. Before long, gravity took over and she allowed it to fall to the floor. Then she stepped out of it, now completely exposed to the predatory gaze of the two men. They could enjoy the sight of all of her body, but her hood still prevented her from seeing anything of them.
Instinctively, Alice clamped her legs firmly together. Apparently the resolution which had enabled her to leave her breasts uncovered had deserted her, because she clenched her muscles and prevented even the slightest gap from emerging between her legs. As a result, her knees bent slightly as if she desperately needed to go to the toilet. Her whole pitiful appearance, topped off as it was by the objectifying bag over her head, somehow conveyed innocence and obscenity at the same time. Campbell found himself wanting to ravish her more than ever.
But The Postman stared at Alice's crotch with a look of distaste on his face. 'She needs a good shave before we let her buyer see her,' he said. The idea had not occurred to Campbell. There was indeed a small, natural bush between Alice's legs, reddish brown to match the hair on her head, but it was neatly trimmed and unobtrusive. Campbell knew from his time with her that she took good care of her appearance in all areas. But apparently it was not good enough for her new station in life.
'Now we've seen the important bits, let's have a look at the bitch's face,' The Postman continued. 'Get that bag off her head, but tie her hands again before you do. She might have had some self-defence training and I don't want to take any risks.'
Campbell stood up and took another short length of rope from his pocket. It was one of a number which he had cut to size during the preparations for Alice's capture, but it had not been needed when they took her. Stepping up to her he pulled her hands in front of her naked body, placed them parallel to each other, palms inwards, then looped the rope around her wrists a couple of times and tied it off with a knot. Having done so, he cinched it tightly and tied it off again. He was confident that it would hold her securely. He had considered leaving her some slack, but he knew that The Postman was likely to notice, so he made sure that he bound the captive strictly.
Campbell had never tied Alice up before, although he had experimented with light bondage on some previous girlfriends, normally at their instigation. But as he bound her hands and looked down at her bare breasts, thinking of the sheer, intoxicating power he had over her, he was sure he had never had an erection like it. He turned his body away from The Postman to avoid drawing attention to the growing bulge in his trousers.
With Alice tightly restrained once more, Campbell untied the bag at her neck and lifted it over her head. As he did so, he positioned himself directly between her and The Postman, blocking his superior's line of vision. This meant that only Campbell saw Alice's lovely face as it was first revealed, her hazel eyes blinking in the sudden light and her hair tousled from its time under the hood. He tried to look directly at her, hoping to convey some meaning to her through his expression, but he found himself unable to hold her gaze because of the shame he felt at betraying her so cruelly. Feeling his failure keenly, he stepped aside.
The Postman took in Alice's face for the first time. Unlike Campbell, had no compunction about looking directly into her eyes. In fact, he stood and stepped right up to her as he did so. This time it was Alice who was unable to maintain the eye contact. She looked down submissively, prompting The Postman to seize her by the chin and force her head up in his direction.
Finally he turned to Campbell. 'The face is quite good,' he said. 'Pretty eyes. They make up a bit for her lack of shape in the body. Shame she's not a few years younger or she'd be really something. We could even have some work done on her to make those breasts bigger, but her buyer said he wants her just as she is. It's his call.'
Campbell found the references to Alice's advanced age somewhat strange. He knew that she had only recently celebrated her 28th birthday. That made her a good few years younger than him, a fact which she had enjoyed teasing him about during their affair, often counting his grey hairs as she did so. However, he knew that she was almost a decade older than most of the girls they took for the trade. Presumably the majority of buyers liked their sex slaves to be very young.