Wolf's Clothing Ch. 07byToughLiberalism©
Campbell dwelt uncomfortably on his actions of the previous day. He had surprised himself by how readily he had slipped into the role of dominant headmaster, relished taking a cane to Alice's arse and then enjoyed sitting back while Sara forced the captive to suck his throbbing cock. But in itself this did not particularly bother him. He and Alice had an unspoken understanding about the parts they had to play and the things they had to do in order to bring down the organisation of slavers. Besides, he was no stranger to turning a woman on and in spite of her protests he knew just how aroused Alice had been throughout the process. When he had slipped the vibrator inside her as she was locked into the chair he had wondered if she would burst from pent-up excitement. His conscience gave him no trouble on that score.
But what he had done to Sara was a different matter. It was not that she did not like the treatment. On the contrary, he had felt her muscles clench around his cock as he thrust it deep in her pussy and he was sure that she had come. He had never known a woman to reach climax purely from having him inside her and it came as a heady rush to know that he could bring her so much fulfilment in such an uncomplicated way.
What bothered him was that he knew that Sara was not capable of consenting to him in any informed way whatsoever. Her mind had been twisted by years of sexual slavery so that she was unable to see herself as anything other than a plaything to men and a trainer to other women. She responded with such pleasure because she had been manipulated to do so. He could justify what he had done because the mission demanded it, but that did not stop him from feeling guilty.
Even more deeply, he felt as if he had cheated on Alice by fucking Sara. In a strange and inexplicable way, his bond with Alice had strengthened since he had taken her prisoner, in spite of all the cruel things he was doing to her. He felt a paradoxical sense of protectiveness each time he dominated her, because he knew that at least she was not being abused by somebody else. He knew only too well how some of the organisation's employees treated the girls they abducted, and his behaviour towards Alice was mild in comparison. By turning his attention to Sara he felt as if he had betrayed his feelings for Alice and abandoned her in some way, even though she had encouraged him to do so as a way to turn her gaoler's allegiance.
It might not have been so bad if he had used Sara merely from a sense of duty, but he was forced to admit that it had been far more pleasurable than that. Even now his cock stirred as he remembered ripping her shirt open and locking her head forcibly into the pillory. The image of her bent form, presented to him so deliciously as she tottered on her impractical heels, and subsequently impaled on his cock as he pushed himself into her warm depths, still turned him on. He had felt such an unbeatable sense of power as he spurted his seed into her waiting body.
The fact that Alice had been forced to watch, with the vibrator buzzing inside her, getting more and more frustrated with each passing second, had only made the situation more erotic for him. Yet in retrospect he wished he had seen to her needs as well. He had tried to give her an affectionate look as he passed her on his way out of the room, but had no way of knowing whether she had appreciated its significance or not. In their current circumstances, he could hardly seek her out for some pillow talk, so he was forced to wait in isolation until their next encounter. Even then he knew that their interaction was likely to be inhibited by Sara's presence.
He sensed the oppressiveness of the situation and felt some understanding of how the men who worked for the organisation lost all sense of morality and sank to such dreadful things. His days were dull and uneventful, with no sense of purpose. The only thing to look forward to was the next outlet for his lust in the room in the basement. He found himself regulating his time around these experiences, in the way that most people do with their hours of work. He was capable of wanting nothing but the next thrill of trapping Alice's wrists in their bonds, pulling her willing mouth onto his cock or causing her soft skin to redden beneath his blows. This gave rise to the cold sense of dread that he was turning into a true member of the organisation that he was trying to bring down. The concern was a familiar one from his years of under cover work for the police, but it was altogether more disturbing when there were so many innocent victims, including the very woman for whom he felt so deeply.
He was mulling on these thoughts the day after fucking Sara and frustrating Alice, whilst sitting on the roof terrace. He was making the best of the morning sunshine, before the day became too unbearably hot, when he heard a vehicle driving up the road. At first he supposed it was Ismail returning from one of his errands, but then he remembered that the man had not left the premises since returning the night before. Campbell stood to find out who was arriving, but his terrace overlooked the lake and the mountains further up the valley, rather than the road back to civilisation, so he could see nothing.
Campbell made his way down the stairs from the terrace and through the building towards the large front door. On his way he encountered Sara, looking decidedly flustered as she hurried in the same direction. She outpaced him easily, and when he arrived in the entrance hall he could see that she was waiting anxiously for the arrival of the newcomers, wringing her hands and transferring her weight from one foot to the other. It was evidently taking the visitors some time to get out of their vehicle, but finally the door swung open. Sara's nervous excitement had rubbed off a little on Campbell, and he waited with baited breath to see who would come through the door.
The first person he saw outlined in the entrance was an unknown man. He was strongly built and wore a black suit and a pair of dark glasses. Campbell's practised eye immediately discerned the outline of a gun holster beneath his arm. It was not hard to work out that the man was clearly some sort of bodyguard, who probably doubled up as the driver of the vehicle which had alerted Campbell by its noise. The man's presence was not of great interest in its own right, but it told Campbell that somebody of greater importance was evidently with him.
After giving the area a quick glance to check all was well, the man stepped inside to make way for somebody else. The sun was bright outside and the figure was silhouetted against it, so Campbell could only see a thin, male outline. But this was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of his neck. As the man stepped across the threshold Campbell's sense of unease was confirmed. The newcomer was The Postman.
Campbell's mind whirled as he tried to respond to this development and to identify the most likely explanation. It could hardly be good news. At worst, his true identity had been discovered and he was about to be eliminated. At best, it looked as if his training time with Alice was about to come to an unexpectedly early end. Even the best scenario was not a good one. Campbell was constantly aware that his time with Alice was limited by her imminent departure to her buyer, but he had not expected it to happen so soon. The training had barely begun.
As The Postman approached Campbell, another well-built figure stepped through the door behind him. Of course, it made perfect sense to Campbell that such an important figure in the organisation would travel with protection, but he was dismayed at the presence of two bodyguards. He was confident that his skills and experience made him more than a match for most opponents, but these men would be well-trained and he doubted that he could take on two of them at once.
He was so intent on The Postman that Campbell did not bother to look properly at the second bodyguard. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that the man was wearing a dark suit, much like his colleague. So it came as a surprise when it was the final newcomer who stepped in his direction, with an outstretched hand. For the first time Campbell turned to look directly at the man. With a shock, he realised that he was not a bodyguard at all. The man who had just arrived was David Salt.
In a daze of surprise, Campbell hesitated, then held out his own hand to the man he suspected of being at the head of the slavers. This was the king pin whom he had been targeting all along. Alice's conviction that Salt was the one they were looking for had turned out to be true. She had been tracking the organisation before Campbell had even been aware of its existence, and he had never been convinced about Salt's leadership. It seemed too far-fetched to believe that behind the high profile businessman, TV personality and prospective mayor of London, there was the boss of an extremely powerful gang of sex traffickers. Yet here he was in the flesh, pumping Campbell's hand enthusiastically, with a grip like iron.
Campbell had seen Salt in photographs and in video footage, but in person he seemed different. He was shorter than Campbell had expected, but stockier too. There was something akin to a brick wall about Salt's appearance. He had heavy brows, a square jaw, a broad chest and a waistline which evidently had a tendency to go to fat, but was being kept in check by sheer determination and effort. Campbell would have guessed that Salt was in his early forties. The man's hair was greying, but was still mainly brown, allowing him to hold off the appearance of middle age.
Beneath his suit, Salt wore a plain white shirt, but no tie. He had undone his top button. Campbell suspected that the visitors had left London after work the previous day, hence the business outfit, and had flown straight to their destination. Salt's shirt was a little crumpled, suggesting that it had been slept in on the flight.
But before Campbell could make any more guesses from Salt's appearance, the man spoke to him. 'Don't look so surprised, Sinclair!' he boomed, in an accent which betrayed his humble origins. 'Yes, it's me. I don't suppose you expected to see me here, did you?'
Campbell shook his head mutely, glad at least that his face had shown surprise. It would have been bad if he had given Salt some inkling of the fact that he had suspected his involvement all along.
'I've been hearing great things about you,' Salt continued, gesturing vaguely towards The Postman as the likely source of his information. Meanwhile, The Postman stood a few steps away, with a blank expression on his face.
'My good friend here gets reports from our employees all over the place,' said Salt, still waving his hand in The Postman's direction, but directing his gaze towards Sara when he referred to the organisation's workers. 'Likes to keep his finger firmly on the pulse, he does.'
Campbell glanced towards Sara, following Salt's eyes, and he was struck by what he saw. The woman was gazing at Salt, with an expression of silent adoration on her face, but as Salt looked at her, she dropped her eyes demurely to the floor. Gone was her nervous fidgeting. Now she stood, still and silent, with her hands clasped behind her back and her feet together.
The significance of this was not lost on Campbell. He had learned to read people quickly over the years and to trust his judgement in order to survive. What he saw in Sara told him that any efforts he could make to turn the woman by dominating her would be worthless. It was clear in that instant that another man had already broken her into complete submission and captured her heart in the process. She evidently worshipped Salt with the love which only a slave can show for a master. The years of training and subjection had taken their toll on her, and now she belonged, completely and irrevocably, to him. From Campbell's perspective this made her potentially very dangerous indeed.
Salt left Campbell briefly to step up to Sara. He patted her on the cheek. 'Looking lovely as ever, pet,' he said, with a hint of affection in his voice. But then it disappeared as he gave her orders in a brusque tone. 'Go and fetch us some coffee and breakfast. We haven't had a proper meal since lunchtime yesterday.'
Sara disappeared obediently and Salt turned his attention back to Campbell. 'She's a gem,' he said, with a grin on his face. 'She was one of my first. I've had her for years - great cook and an absolute whore in bed. Good with the other slaves, too. Maybe you've found out?'
Campbell did not reply directly to this, but he was conscious of the fact that he needed to put on a better show to convince his boss that he was genuine. 'The training of the Hastings woman is going well, sir,' he managed to say.
'So I hear,' Salt boomed. 'They tell me you're putting her through her paces good and proper. I've thoroughly enjoyed hearing the descriptions. My favourite was the bit with the riding crop. Wish I'd been the one to use it on her. Still, all in good time. By the way, don't call me "sir". Doesn't sound right coming from a man. "Boss" will do, if first name terms are too familiar for you.'
'She still has a long way to go,' said Campbell, deciding it was easier not to call Salt anything for now.
'I don't doubt it, but I've decided to accelerate things. You see, I've been keeping you somewhat in the dark. There is no buyer for our pretty little friend in the basement.'
'No buyer?' Campbell stuttered. 'But that means...'
'We keep some of them for our own purposes,' Salt interrupted. 'Entertaining clients and so on. Very useful in certain circles. That's Sara's background, until I got too fond of her to sell her on. But the policewoman downstairs, or whatever her job was, is a bit different. She's special. When I found out she was on my trail and saw a picture of her I decided I just had to have her for myself. Sort of a trophy, I suppose you might say. One to stuff and mount, if you'll pardon the atrocious puns. You've been training her up as my personal slave.'
It was all Campbell could do to prevent himself from staggering at this unwelcome news. Not only had Alice been abducted into a life of slavery, but she had been chosen through a cruel piece of irony and was destined to spend her days serving the man she had been trying to bring down. Campbell could not help noticing the disturbing perfection of this reversal of fortunes. Instead of triumphing as Salt was led away in handcuffs, Alice would find herself wearing the cuffs at his pleasure. Unbidden, filthy images of Alice flooded into Campbell's mind. His imagination could not get rid of the thought of her kneeling to pleasure Salt, bending over to take a beating at his hands, taking his juices deep inside her pussy or possibly even accommodating his cock somewhere worse. Campbell was repulsed at these thoughts, but they stubbornly refused to go away.
But Salt was continuing, oblivious to the dismay Campbell was feeling. 'Anyway, when I heard about how well she was responding to your delicate touch, I just couldn't wait any longer. I thought she'd be a tough one to break and I didn't have the time or energy to do it, but she seems to be a natural slave girl, from what I hear. I had to come out here and see for myself. I'll be taking over her training from now on.'
This time Campbell could not disguise his unhappiness. 'Of course, boss,' he said, acknowledging that he had little choice in the matter.
But Salt had obviously anticipated his disappointment. 'Don't cry about it, man,' he chided. 'I've thought of a way to make sure you are more than compensated. We'll talk business later. For now, let's have something to eat. Then I want a crack at my new slave.'
Campbell followed dejectedly as they moved further into the building. He was devastated at the turn of events, and the promise of compensation did nothing to help. He did not want compensation. He wanted Alice.
After a hearty, mid-morning meal, Salt sent Sara away with instructions to get the slave ready for him. Then he lingered over his coffee with the other men. Campbell found the man brash and vulgar, and this perception was confirmed when Salt insisted that Campbell and The Postman should watch his encounter with Alice. The last thing Campbell wanted was to be forced to observe Alice being raped by this monster, but he was given no choice. When Salt finally stood up to go, the others rose too. Campbell assumed that they would follow Salt to the basement, but instead The Postman placed a cold hand on his arm and led him in a different direction, along with the bodyguard.
They entered a room which Campbell's explorations had not revealed. The entrance was cunningly concealed from view beneath a spiral staircase to the roof. Outside, the door was austere, but inside the space was plushly furnished. There were thick carpets, armchairs, and drinks tables, but most prominent of all was a large screen mounted on the wall. When The Postman switched it on, it revealed a perfect view of the entertainment room in the basement below. The centre table, pillory, chairs and other furniture were displayed in full colour. The fire had been lit, presumably by Sara. It sickened Campbell to wonder how many times these men and their associates had sat in this room, vicariously enjoying the sight of girls being subjected to perverse and degrading treatment, but it sickened him even more that he was about to join them.
They watched the screen to see Salt entering the room below, still dressed in his suit. Campbell settled himself as well as he could in one of the chairs, while the bodyguard waited hesitantly near the door, clearly uncertain whether he was here on duty or for pleasure. The Postman, however, did not settle at all. He flitted around the room, sometimes perching on a chair and sometimes leaning against the wall, but never staying for more than a minute or two in one place. Most distractingly of all, he showed almost no interest in what was taking place on the screen, but devoted most of his attention to looking at Campbell, in a way which the latter found most disturbing.
In the room below, Salt was taking off his jacket. He threw it over the slave's chair and settled himself in the master's seat to wait for Alice's arrival. It did not take long. Within minutes, Sara arrived, leading the captive behind her. Campbell's attention was drawn by the outfits worn by the two women. He saw Sara's clothing first. She was clearly making every effort to draw her master's attention to herself, because she had chosen something outrageous to entice him. She was wearing a black, figure-hugging, shiny catsuit, zipped tightly over her breasts at the front, with the same pair of black high heels she had worn the day before. Campbell recognised them from the view he had enjoyed as he had fucked her in the pillory. He was not a big fan of the PVC-clad look, but he had to admit that Sara's curvaceous body looked awesome.
But for all the effort that Sara had made, it was Alice who drew the eye as she was dragged, blindfolded once more, into the room behind her gaoler. Campbell noticed that she was tottering as she walked, and a glance at her feet made the reason abundantly clear. Sara had put Alice into an utterly impractical pair of black heels, which must have been several inches high. The shoes were attached tightly to her feet by a strap around her ankles, so it was clear that Sara did not want Alice to be able to get rid of them. Campbell wondered what discomfort Alice must be feeling just to walk in them.
But there was a lot more to Alice's outfit than just a pair of shoes, attention-grabbing though they were. Her legs were encased in fishnet stockings. Campbell could tell that they were stockings rather than tights because the black skirt above them was so short that it left a gap of bare skin on display, with suspenders stretching across to hold up the stockings. The skirt was extremely tight as well as short, and the way it clung to Alice's butt when Sara span her around suggested some lycra in its composition. Campbell noticed that Salt's eyes were directed on the same spot as his own had been, taking in the view of Alice's arse, which was pushing pleasingly against the confines of the garment.