Assassin Ch. 15

The two pilots were in the cockpit, the door closed and locked from the small passenger area. There were no seats in the small passenger area. Instead, four steel cages were stacked on top of each other.

The two top cages were empty. The lower two cages were secured with big heavy locks. A blonde American was locked in the lowest cage. Directly on top of her, separated by closely placed steel bars, was a Chinese woman. Both were kept completely naked.

The propellor plane was noisy but conversation was possible.

"Hey, are you an American spy?" Paula, on her stomach facing down, said to Megan as soon as the plane reached cruising altitude.

Megan wondered if she could trust her. Perhaps it was Alan who planted her to find out more. She had spent the last few days telling Alan everything she knew. In return, she asked that Paula be released and given medical attention. Alan agreed a little too quickly.

"You are half correct. I am American. But not a spy."

"I am a spy," she volunteered. Either she was very green or she was trying too hard to fake it.

"I know. Alan told me you had been spying on them."

"When I was captured, I thought I would be dead soon. Amazingly, I am still alive."

"Maybe not for very long."

"I wonder why they are keeping us alive?"

"Better get out of these cages before they land. I have a strange feeling this is our last flight."

Both women quickly moved around the cages, testing each steel bar and pulling the locks. There were no weak points. They had been strip searched and all items had been removed from every possible hiding place. With no tools on hand, it was impossible to escape.

"Where do you think they are taking us?"

"Judging from the angle of the sun," Megan pointed at the small sliver of light that escaped from the drawn windows, "we are flying west."

"Are we going to India?" Under the circumstances, Paula's voice was disturbingly upbeat.

"I guess." Like most Americans, Megan was not exactly a Jeopardy champion in geography.

"Have you been to India?"

"No."

"Me too. I wish I had the chance to travel more before I die." The implication that she was going to die soon saturated the stale air in the trapped space.

"Perhaps they will show us all the sights in India before they shoot us." Megan laughed at her own dark humor.

Paula did not participate. "Do you think they will shoot us? I guess two bullets are less painful than using a knife."

"You are assuming that it will be two bullets at the back of the head, Chinese execution style. But if it is two bullets, one for each knee cap, and then slowly bleeding to death, then I prefer a quick knife cut across the neck, ear to ear."

The mental imagery was too much for Paula. She turned to her back and faced the empty cages on top of her.

Hours passed before she was ready to talk again. Megan was grateful for the silence. Time to reflect on what happened and plan for the near future.

The first question on her mind was why they were keeping both of them alive. Her working theory was that Alan did not fully believe she had told them everything she knew. She had made up stories that she was indeed working for a classified department deep inside Homeland Security. She told them it was newly formed in case they tried to verify its existence.

As for what was so valuable inside the laptop, she said her agency suspected it contained plans for terrorist activities. It was not difficult to make up that story because Alan had mentioned a man by the name of Hashim. Megan knew very little about the Arab world, but knew enough to know that Hashim was a name with Middle Eastern roots.

She must have hit pretty near the mark. Alan left the room immediately when she mentioned terrorism. It was another hour before he came back and brought her coffee and scrambled eggs. Rewarding the captive for divulging relevant information was standard practice for interrogators playing the good cop role.

When Alan had completed the first day of interrogation, the Russian came back the next day and asked her pretty much the same questions. While Alan had let her sit on a comfortable chair with her wrists locked in front of her to a steel hook on the table, the Russian chose to interrogate her on her knees, wrists handcuffed over her head and chained to the ceiling. He did not touch her, but stood with an erection an inch from her face as he read the questions from thick folder. All the interrogations were videotaped by a wiry man with tattoos completely covering both arms.

On the third and final day, Alan asked the same questions and she gave him the same answers. The details of her flight to Hong Kong, what she was told when she arrived, how she picked out the targeted man to kill. She stuck as close to the truth as possible, changing only the small details to make it consistent with her new story of working for the government rather than an assassin for hire.

Although she had done everything she could to make them believe that was all she knew, Alan's eyes told her he probably did not fully believe her story was the complete truth. Although not trained in interrogation techniques, Alan was an experienced business negotiator operating in the highly competitive arena of supplying to the world's largest retailer.

So if the reason for keeping her alive was to pump more information out of her, it would be very bad news because she had no more information for them. In fact, she had already gone beyond what she could feasibly lie about. Anything more and they could easily counter check her stories and find her to be lying. She knew what would happen when they find out her stories were all a pack of lies. Well, not all lies, but enough to make them mad. And she knew, or at least could guess what kind of painful death they would design for her when that happened. It would be better to die trying to escape than to let them find out she had been lying.

And if they kept her alive, why did they keep Paula alive. And why transport them in the same plane and leave them alone to communicate. Why were there no guards in the plane?

She knew that she had asked for Paula's safety as a condition for spilling the beans. Perhaps a businessman like Alan, familiar with the concept of honoring one's part of the deal in business, might be protecting Paula because of his promise. But Megan knew Alan was not the top man in this operation. Why would Hashim keep Paula alive?

Again, her theory was not a pleasant one. If she were correct that she was being taken to a remote location to be further interrogated, then perhaps they were planning to use Paula against her. They knew she had a soft heart and could not stand to see Paula whipped to death. They knew she was willing to talk to save Paula's life. Were they planning to use Paula as leverage to dig deeper into what she knew?

They drifted in and out of consciousness and made small talk. Both of them lost track of time as the hours passed. It was eight hours later when the plane landed on a small runway in the United Arab Emirates, about 50 miles south of Abu Dhabi.

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From his 100 inch LED monitor, Billionaire Hashim smiled as he saw the women led into one of the twelve compounds he owned in the UAE. Three of the twelve were specially built for holding women trafficked into the country for distribution to the entire region. With the help of his cousin, a high ranking military officer, he had a near monopoly in the highly profitable business of supplying women to pleasure the numerous rich oil tycoons living in the two dozen countries of the Middle East.

Like all the other women led into his strongholds, both the American whore and the Chinese slut were totally naked, except for dark hoods covering their entire heads and part of the necks, and six inch stilettos on their feet. The stilettos were deliberately chosen to be one size smaller so that each step on the sand was odd and painful. Each woman, wobbly because of the heels and lack of sight, was forcibly pulled forward by automotive jumper cables with the metal jaws clamping down on both nipples.

Like for all his captive women, Hashim wanted to make sure that the humiliation started as soon as they entered his property. There must be no doubt in the minds of all bitches that they no longer own their bodies. Each woman must know in their soul that their breasts, cunts, and butts belonged to Hashim. He owned them and could do whatever he wanted with them. He could sell them, use them, or simply kill them.

About ten yards from the concrete building, the hoods would be removed and the camera would zoom in. Half a dozen men would surround each woman and push her from one goon to another. Regardless of where they were kidnapped from - mostly from Asia, Europe, or Latin America - the woman would often be in tears as she lost her balance and fall repeatedly on the hot sand.

After just ten minutes of being pulled by the nipples and pushed down to the sand, the woman would become submissive. It was amazing how applying pressure on the nipples, a small part of an adult woman, could turn them from respectable ladies to sluts ready to obey every command.

Hashim loved to watch the part where the bitch would be commanded to kneel on her knees on the hot sand. Surrounded by strange men, all the women would eventually submit or be forced to. Although each woman would have her hands and legs free, none of them tried to remove the painful alligator jaws biting into the nerves around her nipples. None of them would fight back when pushed and shoved around.

If she obeyed the command to kneel instantly, the jaws of the cable clamps would be removed. After kneeling for five minutes, she would have to perform oral sex on two guards before being taken into the cool air of the building.

If she did not kneel immediately, and Hashim had only seen a dozen or so stubborn women disobey, they would be kicked down to the stand and forced to kneel, two men stepping on the backs of her kneel. The jumper wires would be torturously pulled off the nipples, one at a time. The howls and screams would delight his men, who would laugh and high five each other. A minute later, she would be yanked by the hair to a standing position, the clamps applied again to the nipples, and then ordered to kneel again. Of the thousands of women Hashim had personally witnessed, only two women had to be asked three times before they submitted.

Hashim rubbed himself between the legs and leaned forward with anticipation. He had been informed that both of these women were trained fighters and could kill with their bare hands. So he ordered that their wrists and elbows were to be tied behind, forcing the breasts outwards and stretching the skin around the nipples. When the alligator jaws bit on the nipples, the look was more entertaining than when the hands were free. Hashim liked the look so much he mentally filed away a reminder to his men later to do the same for all new incoming whores. In addition to restraining both the women's hands, their legs were hobbled by three inch chains.

Paula was led in front. Her hood was removed and she was subjected to the humiliation. She resisted once, then was kicked to the ground and the nipples abused when the jaws were pulled from them.

Megan was still hooded and stood unsteadily on the six inch heels supporting all of her 140 pounds on a six nine frame. Her hands and legs roped and chained, all her muscles tensed as she heard the horrifying screams from Paula. She could not see, but knew that they were purposely humiliating Paula in front of her in order to soften her resolve.

Finally, after what seemed to her like an hour but was only fifteen minutes, Megan's hood was removed. She saw Paula on her hands and knees. A cock was in her mouth and another one in her ass. A third man sat on her waist, one hand on her hair and the other slapping her breasts. She had apparently satisfied them that she was so submissive her wrists and elbows were no longer tied behind her, although her legs remained hobbled by ankle chains.

They let her watch until the men deposited their cum on her face, hair, neck, breasts, stomach, and thighs. She was then taken into the air conditioned building.

Megan was pulled forward by her nipples.

"Kneel and worship me." She was ordered by a man shorter than her. "I want to see your knees and forehead touching the sand, your butt facing the sky."

Megan took a second to process what she had just heard.

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To be continued in the next chapter . . .