Strange Queens Ch. 03

And this she had done, and done whilst helping the only people that would give her this chance. In her last seconds of consciousness, as she could already feel her orgasm beginning to grind her brain to lustful mush and her cunt leak it's juice of pleasure, she'd wrapped her freed legs around something, a guard, she'd supposed, and hoped faintly that she would subdue enough of them to help those that had helped her.

She was nearly lost in her world when she'd distractedly felt the faint, muffled whumps of the barrage of darts whacking into her back and body, barely registering them in her mind. Ten seconds after the last one had injected it's sweet, seducing serum into her body, her consciousness relaxed and she left her physical body behind forever, her spiritually orgasmic bliss rocketing her far beyond the restrictions of the mortal world.

Rachel and the others hadn't wasted time. Rachel was out in a flash, key at the ready, ramming it into the next door and sliding its weighted bar out of the lock. Amanda was with her, her tall frame as elegant in its chains as it would have been out of it. She held the belt key, the key to the chastity devices, and was ready to get to work. Gold Eyes, for her part, just looked down the hallway at the mess of bodies, the olive skin of her only friend in this place buried amongst it. She could almost see her body twitching from here, the black spots that were shell casings still glued to her skin visible all over her. She turned to find Rachel reaching out and grabbing her arm and jerking her inside, and then she was back in a cell again.

Inside, Amanda set to work unlocking the inhabitants of the cell, cracking their ankle and wrist cuffs off quickly. The girls here were widely different from each other; an older woman, likely in her mid to late thirties, occupied one bed, while a young one, a teenager, surely, she didn't look older than eighteen to Amanda, was on the other. Her chastity belt was smaller, a smaller size, and her breast cups slanted on angles around her tiny frame. The girl caught Amanda looking.

'I'm eighteen, I know. I don't look like it. You look like you're a model.' She said simply, with a child-like intent. She tilted her body so she could look past Amanda as she bent over her wrists to address the woman behind her.

'Isn't that right, mummy?'

Rachel caught herself flinching. The two looked nothing like each other. The young girl was small and white, perfect creamy skin speckled with cute freckles adorning her upper half. A shock of frizzy red hair stood out from her head, and her eyes shone a bright and icy blue. The woman before her, her skin tanned from the sun, bore short and thick black hair and the distinctive slanted eyes of an Asian. Her frame was thin and defined, her hips and chest shapely behind the metal. A tuft of dark hair was faintly visible peeking out from behind her covered harness. The teenage girl had none down there that Rachel could see. She would look like a porn star naked, Rachel figured, taking in her curvaceous figure under her metal armour, but she couldn't have mothered this freckled red-head, surely.

And then the older woman spoke. 'Quiet, Brianna, quiet. Let the lady help us. Everything will be alright, just let them do their job.'

Rachel didn't bother wondering more. If the mother-daughter combo was genetically linked or a crazy side effect of their incarceration, it didn't make a difference to them. Right now all they needed was them to be willing and helpful and ready to run for their lives.

Passing over her door key to Amanda once she finished unlocking the necessary clasps and locks on the two cellmates, she spoke briefly to her.

'Get the others out. Arms and legs, anything they need to run, that's it. Gold eyes here can help you out. Mum,' she said, addressing the shapely olive skinned Asian woman, who stepped up ready to follow her instructions, her daughter coming to her side, 'you and your daughter are coming with me.' She lifted her second pistol from her belt and handed it to the older woman who immediately passed it to her fire-headed young protégé.

'I'm a crack shot at the laser range,' she said as Rachel's glance down at her, seemingly happy despite her depressing surroundings. 'I've never lost a game.'

'Whatever.' Rachel said. 'I don't care who shoots, I just need someone shooting. You two, come with me. Between us we've got ten shots, and there were thirteen guards before our friend knocked what I think was three out. That means we have eight guards left. We both have one shot to miss before we have to be perfect with our aim. I've got four in mine, you have six. Sound good?' Rachel said. The young girl reached up and took Rachel's pistol and replaced it with hers.

'I won't miss.' She said simply up at the bigger girl. Shrugging, Rachel turned and stood before the doorway.

'It'll be nonstop. We have to down them before they hit us. If we can clear them out, then the others have a clear escape to the vans outside. Got it?'

'Got it!' the teenager chirped. Mother nodded sagely.

'What is my job?' she asked, the tiniest hint of an accent evident in her silky voice.

'You, mum, are on recon and cover. Grab yourself the nearest pistol you find once we get to the guards, anything else you can find, anything useful. We can't afford to miss these darts, but if we do, it would help to have their ammo as backup. Now there's no time for anything else, we need to go. If we don't do this we'll just get ourselves all knocked out one by one when they storm in here, or else they'll knock us out easily when we try to leave, and I don't care to think about what they'll do to us when they get us locked back up. We have to go.' And with that, Rachel raised her guns and moved.

* * * * *

Edging her way around the house, Chelsea -- or rather, Eliza H. Roberts's mind inside Chelsea's naked body -- was making her way with the utmost stealth towards the back of the house. In the past three days, she'd had little opportunity to do much at all. Her "Master", a man by the name of Paulo Paveili Crete, had been out on business, and his son had been away on a honeymoon no doubt somewhere he could chain his kinky girlfriend up in piece. Although she approved of exploring the more unusual sexual avenues with one's female, especially if it involved chaining them up and exploiting all their many defenceless pressure points until they burst right before your eyes, she didn't like the idea of a man being the one doing it.

To Eliza, the best world was a world where women were dominant in every way. The female, throughout history, has always been on both ends of the spectrum as far as power goes. Whilst viewed by men, and indeed historically, as second rate, a birthing tool for the emperors and kings of the age, a toy for sexual satisfaction, a slave for menial tasks, it was always with a woman by his side that a man made the most major of advancements. From the likes of Baker and Bates, women who variously birthed and led groups for black rights and civil leadership, all the way back to the kings of old and their wives, the secret wife of Alexander the Great and Genghis Kahn, the three fallen wives of King Henry and the control of the royal throne throughout the rein of man dominated times.

No, Roberts knew that behind every great man was a far more powerful, far smarter and more resilient woman. Though they let themselves be ruled over, women always held the final power over the oversold and under-performing male class. Why, she thought, what god would give the dominant half of the species the freedom from childbirth? All men did was get their little willies all nice and hard, stick them inside the glorious caves of the female body, and gunk them up with their disgusting fluids. Women were the ones whom had to bear the pain of giving birth, and who ended up nurturing the same young to strength and adulthood. No god, if they existed, would make the one with the penis the dominator. Spiders had it right. Female spiders make dwarves of their male mates. Plus, they eat them when they've finished with them. Admirable.

But as much as Roberts disliked that such a lovely young female was letting herself be penetrated by the filth of the male, she would let it pass. With her studded wristlets and choker, the teenage girl would have years to realise her mistakes, and years after to submit to her destiny. Besides, as long as she was gorging herself on his cock, he would be blissfully ignorant of anything else, and that was what Roberts needed to assess her surroundings.

Having won over the pathetically lust driven mind of Chelsea, Roberts had been able to extract what memories and brain patters she could, but she had only gathered a hazy picture of the last few months. She would have to explore the building she was in first, once she'd cleaned up her evidence and found out all she could about her captors.

But she hadn't been able to do much. She'd explored the house thoroughly, and indeed, it boasted hundreds and hundreds of intriguing goodies to her. But none of them were deal breakers as far as her plan onwards was concerned. For her, what mattered was knowing exactly where she was and who she was here for. Once she knew that, she would know how to get out, and how to go about returning to her secret home in the hills to her experiments. Although she had managed to discover her Master was The older Crete man, and although she had had to endure serving him, she had been saved the agony of allowing her body to be used as his fuck doll, let alone of having to make herself look like she liked it. Whenever he had been there, along with his son, she was forced to maintain a play of servitude to him, and it seemed as though it had worked so far. Men. So very, very stupid. It was always much too easy to control them.

And so Roberts was sneaking past the rooms of the boy and his mate towards the back of the house. Though it was late, she crept, knowing that even the slightest of noises could potentially wake one of the two in the room. She didn't have to worry about sneaking out of bed with Paulo, however, as he was once again spending his night elsewhere, apparently surveying one of his many ridiculous money making ventures, but more likely to Roberts at least, engorged inside another petty slave woman.

There was one thing Roberts did agree with, however, and one thing that she was looking forward to exploiting when she was back in control of her old home. Paulo had been letting Chelsea manage the smaller paperwork of his business, and Roberts had enjoyed analysing the payments going in and out of his accounts and the invoices being signed. Paulo, it seemed, operated or at least owned several different slave trafficking operations in the country, some turning over upwards of a million dollars' worth of stock monthly.

Of the income, Paulo took easily the most generous taking, nearly ninety per cent of it, the other ten being paid towards regular maintenance and staff payments for the businesses. Given the lucrative income of the operations and the secrecy, the staff would be small, paid well in tight constraints, and likely looking after their operation well enough that any excesses paid to the business could come to them. Effective money making, Roberts had approved when she'd seen one such invoice from a subtly named G. P. Transport & Storage Ltd. personally transferring a subsidiary payment directly to Paulo of nearly four million dollars. It's stock list simply listed acronyms and summaries for its cargo, to which Roberts had added a temporary legend;

Gen -- age/height/weight/hipWidth/BreastSize/VaginalDepth/AnalDepth/Hair/Eye/TimeKept - Cost

Female -- 20/172/85/24/36D/5.6"/4.5"/blnd/blu/4mth - $600,000.00

Female -- 19/166/67/20/14B/4.8"/3.9"/bru/brn/2mth - $450,500.00

Female -- 28/168/78/30/40DD/6.0"/5.4"/Blk/Brn/5mth - $300,000.00

Female -- 18/148/55/14/24C/4.2"/2.6"/Red/blu/1mth - $750,000.00

Female -- 26/160/65/18/24C/5.7"/5.9"/Red/Grn/2mth - $350,000.00

Female -- 23/155/60/12/22B/3.9"/2.7"/blnd/Grn/3mth - $400,000.00

Female -- 28/180/70/16/26A/4.8"4.6"/Blnd/Blu/2mth - $400,000.00

Female -- 21/160/50/14/30A/3.6"/2.9"/Blk/Blk/2mth - $300,500.00

Female -- 23/178/60/20/28B/4.0"3.2"/Blk/Blk/3mth - $400,000.00

Subtotal: $3,951,000.00

Freight & Handling: $50,000.00

TOTAL PAID: $3,901,000.00

The invoice served as a list of stock sold in the month between payments to the parent company. Roberts had assumed a few things, not entirely certain of the numbers to start off with. But it made sense. The invoice simply listed the item sold, for example, line four.

Female -- 18/148/55/14/24C/4.2"/2.6"/Red/blu/1mth - $750,000.00

Line four listed one female sold for seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, three quarters of a million dollars for one girl. The girl, if Robert's little legend had been correct, was only eighteen, 148 cm tall, 55 kilos -- not a big girl -- thin with a 14 waist, big 24C breasts for her frame. The next two had been tricky, but Roberts was no stranger to measuring the insides of a woman's body -- 4.2 inches deep vaginally, with only 2.6 worth of presumably fuck-able anal space at 2.6 inches. She was red haired with blue eyes, a very attractive combo, and, finally, she had only been kept for a month, still fresh. It was obvious why she had attracted her $750,000 price tag. The girl was small, thin, attractive, and had massive breasts. Although her waist size only measured 14, Roberts knew exactly what type of girl she would be. Small and curvaceous, she would have a tiny waist and a massive ass, thin and defined legs, her breasts even more impressive on her small frame above her thin midriff, her face framed by fiery red hair and her eyes a deep crystal blue. Roberts found herself picturing the naked girl, and wishing for just a moment that it had been her paying the hefty price tag for the sexy female.

For Roberts, at present, her first task would be to get herself out and back to known space where she could find her way back to her mountainside resort. Once she returned herself to power and restored her old body to her, she would work first on replicating herself some slaves of her own from her stash of carbonised women, women who would have their brain patterns literally built around undying servitude to Roberts. They would do her work for her, hunting down her current Master, Paulo, and bringing him to her. She, meanwhile, would prepare to assume control of him, re-employing her most precious invention, turning the ridiculously pride driven son-of-a-god from the pumped up jerk he was into her permanent servant. Then, his company would become hers, and she would be paid the subsidiary funds directly, allowing Paulo to run the companies for her, the slave trade never knowing a thing.

She would, however, have to introduce a photographic requirement to her business, so that every slave that came in was thoroughly analysed by herself before it was sold, just in case some good genetic material was lurking inside her that would pay to be integrated with Robert's own. She would also, she quickly added to herself, make a very, very big show of finding and imprisoning the two stubborn and troublesome whores that had caused her so much trouble to begin with, Jordan and Chelsea, and enjoy developing their own personal little prisons. She would, perhaps, torture them with the permanent lust of orgasm, unceasing and unrelenting, but chained spread wide, unable to even twitch their muscles to cum. In fact, she might stream the two on the internet. Yes, yes, having a live audience throwing money at the two hapless women in their screaming, torturous desire to leak cum would only be beneficial, both to Robert's conscious and to her bank account.

Having gently edged her naked form through the house, down the stairs and across the dining hall to the door, gently playing one heel out, testing the area for sounds and rolling her weight forwards, Roberts was nearly free. She carefully tipped her head back as she edged the key in the door around, nearly feeling as though she had one of her personally built toys in her cunt as she felt the teeth drop the pins one by one inside the lock as though they were teeth flicking each of the tender points deep inside her. The final pin clicked ever so lightly and Roberts felt the door bump as the pressure of the lock was released.

She reached up in total agonising silence and twisted the door knob and she felt the welcome cold rush of air breeze through the tiny crack she'd just made. She waited, aware that opening the door in a gust of wind would blow right up to the lusty couple in their bed and could wake them, also aware that a strong wind would make noise if it rustled papers or tore the door from her fingers. She waited, the wind tickling her skin, making the tiny golden hairs on her body prickle and stand to attention like thousands of microscopic cocks. Then, the air fell silent, the wind passed for a moment. Roberts opened the door wide enough to slip through and felt her nipples scratch across the bare wood as she slid out.

Stepping forwards, the door gently closed as silently as she had opened it, Roberts looked about herself, took in the cold and silent night, the star-filled sky and the wide and clean horizon before her. She took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air cleanse her ridiculously captive stolen body's ties to the house behind her.

Now she was free, she would have to find out where she was. Sprinting lightly across to the fence, some five hundred metres away, she gently kept her warmth up in the cold air. She felt her blonde hair flying freely behind her, felt the wind gently licking between her legs and tickling up her behind, urging her to bare her holes to it so it could slide into them, too. But she denied it it's request, her will iron hard. She would have plenty of time for exposed holes when she got home, she thought with a grin. She knew of a certain creation she had teasingly named the Mind Monster that would very much appreciate her body once more in its grasp. But that was not for now.

She reached the fence, lightly panting, her breasts rising and falling before her, her back rigid, her stance firm and powerful. She leaned out but could only see dirt before her, so she casually vaulted the wood fence and continued her slow and sustained sprint down the dirt path before her, enjoying the stabbing pain of the occasional rock and twig in her bare foot. She jogged down the path, her attentive eyes flitting this way and that as she took in anything that would, could, help her here. But little other than trees and bushes looked back, watching her silently, unconcerned at the naked woman passing them by.

Roberts was perhaps half way up the path when she felt something. A gentle rumble was coming to her through the ground, from the distance. She dropped quickly to her hands and knees, baring her ass to the wind as she bent low and put her ear to the dirt. She ignored the cold on her anus as she concentrated on the sound. It felt like a car coming towards her, the rumble of an engine as it made its way over the path. Quickly, Roberts glanced over her shoulder and sprinted towards a bush not far off the track in a wide patch of grass. She crouched down behind it, on her knees, feet flat, as much of her body flat against the grass and bush as she could manage. She ignored the cool leaves brushing over her erect nipples and the gentle massage of the long and damp grass rubbing her legs. She also ignored the idea of feeling the cool wet grass reaching up between her thighs and spreading the cold damp inside her.

Roberts peered out through the bush at the path, splintered shafts of dimly lit dirt visible through the leaves and branches. A pair of bright lights pierced the slope in the distance and moved towards her hiding place, the twin lights of a car. The two beams moved together like eyes down the dirt, rapidly approaching Robert's bush. She watched it as it approached, saw it roll past her bush, saw the bright white of the headlights turn into the dimmer red of tail lights as it passed. She waited, waited until she couldn't see the lights from her position, still as stock still as she had been when she positioned herself. She breathed regularly, evenly. Her heart was fast, but rhythmic. Still Roberts waited, counting to thirty in her head.