Strange Queens Ch. 04

'What, Chelsea?'

But Chelsea wasn't listening. Her gaze had caught another of the chambers, one further down the twin columns. The black, human-sized form inside this one was different to the others. It was shorter, but curvier, with larger breasts and wider hips. The mouth was open and every tooth was preserved in perfect replication, and from her angle, she could see part way into the woman's vagina.

Jordan.

Jordan!

'Jordan...' Chelsea breathed. Her eyes went wide. She took a step, towards the chamber with the woman's body suspended in it-

* * * * *

-And at that instant the door to the storage room crashed open!

Paulo spun, Chelsea did the same. There, silhouetted in the doorway, her chest pumping, her jumper's sleeves hitched up, tears starting to run down her face, was Jordan, and behind her, confused but backing up her best friend one-hundred percent, was Rachel.

The girls locked eyes. Jordan looked like she was ready to start swinging. Her fists were balled and her bosom rose and fell in rapid movements. She was probably close to hyperventilating. She began to stride forward, and Chelsea did too, the entire world a haze around her. Jordan's hands began to clench as she stepped towards the woman.

And then, it was like everything around them went from slow motion to freeze. As though fingers had clicked in a deathly silent theatre, or a coin falling from the top of the Empire State, twisting and spinning in infinity, hit the ground.

In an instant, Jordan's muscles relaxed and her palms opened, already sweaty from her nerves. Chelsea broke into a run. Jordan's lips twisted at the corners as her emotions overflowed and set of explosions inside her and she was sobbing before she touched the other woman.

In a second they were in each other's arms, and Jordan's legs nearly gave way beneath her. Time seemed to stand still for them, emotions passing like water flowing down a river. Chelsea could feel every twinge, sense every taut muscle and firing nerve, hear every thought of doubt inside Jordan's mind. Jordan could smell the girl's scent, could taste her on her tongue, could genuinely feel the cool rush of relief as it began to lick and flow over her brain like a cool rain after a drought.

Behind them, Rachel locked eyes with Paulo. She saw a big man, tall and wide and intimidating. His gaze locked on the two girls frozen in embrace, and then they flicked with terrifying finality to her.

She didn't recognize him, but he recognized her.

~ She knelt on the floor, her balance held off centre. She couldn't stand up. A guard had his fingers tight around the back of her neck, locking her in place.

His order had been for a strong, fighting woman. Muscle, height, a fiery physique. There were two candidates here, both red heads. That figures. Hair colour was not a requirement.

Both women bore tight muscles around their torsos. Each had arms that showed strength and prowess. Paulo took a particular liking to the one on the left; her legs had a tense, blocky muscular structure to them that looked particularly fit.

He ordered to see their front and each woman was thrown backwards. The guards held their chins back, fingers dug under their jaws. No line of sight, no identification. In this pose he could see each woman's stomach. Both had little fat, excellent skin. One, it seemed, was ever so slightly more toned than the other. At least in visibility she seemed stronger, though no doubt the other had more functional muscle that was conventionally invisible to the eye.

He crouched before them. Their thighs were thick and long, both excellent specimens. Each had a scent that was particularly pungent, though one bore slightly more hair than the other in her time since she'd been shaved. The less hairy one also had a little more colour to her. Casually he flicked open their flaps and observed the wares below. Decently sized labia on each. One a little thicker than the other, that would be good.

He kicked each in the knee, his clean, pointed dress boots making their legs jump. Responsive, excellent. He took a tour, letting the guards push their heads down again so that they were bent doubled over. The one now on the right had a firmer backside than the other, though hers was wider. He flicked their caps open, shone a small keyring torch inside. From their puckers the right one was tighter.

'Enough.' He called. He pointed to his chosen subject and the guards took over. Another guard helped the remaining slave girl back to her cell while two more grabbed the newly sold woman by the arms, the original guard holding her waist.

Paulo turned to an assisting guard and picked up a thin, glowing blade. The guard behind her wrapped his gloved hands around her mouth as she stared in utter terror at him. She made to kick out but her legs were held by the legs of the guards, she couldn't move.

'Lay her down. I can't work like this. This one has to be hidden.'

The guards flipped her onto the table and some more stepped in to hold her down.

'inside ankle I think... Not likely he'll see it while he fucks her when it's down there, even if he has a foot thing.'

Gloved hands gripped the woman's left angle and twisted it sharply. A muffled scream bounced against the gloved hands around her mouth.

With all the casualness in the world, Paulo Crete bend over her leg and calmly slipped his knife blade into her skin, side on. It slid under several layers of skin, still hot. The woman screamed again. Paulo held it in place for ten seconds, then removed it easily. He'd never even pierced under the epidermis, no blood welled. Indeed, only a white line where her skin had separated could be seen.

Effortlessly Paulo flicked out his keychain again and pressed a second button. A UV light lit up the skin in its range, and as he held it close, two faint characters revealed themselves in the skin where he'd inserted his blade.

P C

'She's been marked. Take her to shipment.'

Immediately the guards were hauling her off and towards the outer door. They would clean her, shave her, apply her chastity harnesses, and then clothe her up and tie her for the courier meet in the city. From there she'd go direct to her new owner. Paulo already had the payment, a cool $725,000.

As she was dragged away, Paulo whispered a soft prayer, one tinged with the lightest of velvety bass tones.

While she was prepared to be sent to her new home, Rachel was thrown back into her cell, the fleeting glimpse of Paulo's profile burned into her retinas. ~

'You.' Rachel breathed. Paulo's face glinted in recognition, tinged with surprise. He knew, of course, about the breakout. None of the guards had escaped his punishment, and even Gloria had received hers in time. The facility in the mountainside at the edge of the desert far out to the north currently sat in silence, abandoned, but Paulo had plans for it. A new ownership might well be starting there soon enough.

In the centre of the room, between the two standing in their Mexican standoff, Jordan and Chelsea broke from their embrace. They looked at each other in awkward silence, neither wanting to start the river of words that wanted so badly to leave their heads and hearts and spill into the open. There was a terse tension between them, one that they had both already known about long before their eyes had met. Jordan could sense Chelsea had changed, could feel her as though she were a different person altogether. But she could feel her nonetheless, and that feeling, though numb, was still the woman she fell in love with.

Chelsea, for her part, was torn inwardly. A nervous singing burned at her spine and the fibres of her skin prickled. It was like a puzzle, gaping wide with missing pieces left, right and centre, had simply been completed in one motion. Everything in her life that had been missing these past months was right here in front of her; her home, her lover. Jordan was as gorgeous as when she'd first seen her, and it was like no time had passed. Her heart lit up with joy at the sight of her.

And yet she held back, waiting. Something was giving her pause, as though she were forgetting something immensely important. Within her mind, buried in the very depths of her consciousness, like glue caked in every corner of a toy was a worrisome uncertainty, and like ropes shackled around every part of her body they all tied back to one name, one person, standing right behind her.

Paulo called his pet.

'To me, Chelsea.' It was a simple command. Chelsea of old -- the Chelsea of months ago, the Chelsea of last week, even the Chelsea of twenty minutes ago would have obeyed with dog-like mindlessness. But she didn't move. A tiny frown came across Paulo's features and indistinguishably his presence seemed to grow in the room a little.

'To Me, Chelsea.' He repeated, with a serious finality this time.

Without looking at Jordan, her eyes cast downwards, Chelsea turned slowly and went to his side. His arm was around her before she turned back to face the others and his fingers patted her shoulder gently. She didn't look up.

Jordan reflexively took two steps back, her eyes not leaving Chelsea for a second. Rachel entered the room and came up behind her, her taller frame standing firm in her shadow, her back straight. A hint of tenseness in her muscular arms bore visible in the glinting off-blue light of the pods.

'So.' The bassy male voice cut like a knife through the electric charged air. Paulo had begun his sentence without truthfully knowing what next he wanted to say, but after a moment of pause an image struck his mind. It was one he'd taken months ago, the sight of something somewhere completely different.

~ Paulo looked about. The wily old seaman had done surprisingly well with his task, the shipping containers at the dock had been organized in just the right way to hide a room-sized hole in their midst. It was an excellent idea, and one that Paulo had not initially given full credit for, but the dirty sailor knew his way with the water's edge and with doing the necessary deeds required to run a certain kind of business.

Before him, the commissioned businessman and his son were organising the new intake of stock for first viewing. In the future all inspections would be made by a man of his own -- a hired eye to take his place, expendable and paid in cancellable cheques, precautions were always necessary in the event of failure -- but for the initial opening he wanted to see every corner and detail. After the raid at the last location, one more whiff of even the cleanest of pussy in the air would have the pigs scrambling to uncover his intricate and delicate trade locations. It was lucky for the sailor that his money had managed to buy him a second chance... Not to mention the girl.

'They are ready, mister C.!' the wrinkled old man spat to Paulo's side. Before him, a ring of a little under twenty naked women of various youth and looks stood before him, all beautiful and curvaceous. He cast a focussed, glaring eye over them all one by one. He saw numbers floating off their skin, balances and faces and trade deals swirling around their curves and, most importantly, fully stocked warehouses for trade opportunities dripping from their fingertips. With an almost imperceptible nod, he gestured to them with a dismissive flick of his hand.

'You have done well, Lachlan. Your reward is earned. Choose one.'

The old seaman spun in joy, his greedy eye glaring at the crowd of silent girls. Before him a line of bare, waiting vaginas preened at him like the cracked lips of an oyster, the gleam of a beautiful, enormous pearl winking at him from inside its soft depths. He cast his eye over them, calculating his preferences in his head.

For him, it came down to two things; ass and mouth. Fuck what the mags told you about tits these days, he was an old fashioned man. If she had a good ass, it gave you something to hold onto while you fucked her in it, and as for the mouth, well, people get sick, women bleed. Sometimes you just don't have time to bother with the formalities. You can always fuck her mouth, no matter what time of the day -- or the month -- it is.

There were two candidates. One blonde chick had bazookas the size of small Everests and thick, chocolate nipples. God would he like to tear those with his teeth. She was olive, too, and in his opinion the blacker they were the better they took cock. However, she was short, and a little wide. Nothing wrong with having winter reserves, but hers looked a little more like flab. The issue was, not enough of it had gone to her ass. She was wide hipped but her cheeks were lacklustre.

The other girl, however, woah mama. She was tall, well built, fiery skinned with even more fiery hair. A tiny, cute little tuft of orange whiskers adorned her mound and her ass was thick and firm. A voluptuous bosom stood before her, and, while smaller than the blonde girl, hers was perkier, firmer. They stood out, round and perfect with the virtues of youth. There wasn't a single imperfection to be found on her soft white skin.

'That one.' He pointed right at her heart. Another one, a flawlessly skinned dark-hair with crystal blue eyes, gasped beside him. He ignored it. The same gasp would be coming from this one when he bent her over his armchair back home. In seconds, she was being hauled away, his step son gripping her around her waist and hauling her bodily to his private little container a short way away. The dark-haired one tried to stop him, but Lachlan quickly and firmly stepped in. With a palm to her chest that knocked the wind from her lungs and grounded her, he was over her in a flash.

'Uh uh uh, little missy, no fraternizing with the other little whores, now,' he breathed into her face from two inches away. A dribble of spit rappelled from his lip and began to seep slowly down her cheek, which he gripped with his gloved hand. He pursed her lips like a child being scalded. Fallen backwards and short on air, she could do little to retaliate.

He let go of her face, white marks etching where he'd gripped her, and tapped the side of her breast, the fine mound wobbling. Then he stood and strode away, sure-footed over the rough corrugation of the containers under his feet, following his shit of a step-son to take his new prize from him. He could already feel the tight pussy around his dick now... It had been so long since he'd felt young cunt. So long.

Jordan's eyes glinted with rage, but there was nothing she could do except watch him leave. She wanted for all the world to get up and bash the back of his head in, but even with the younger male gone, she would be down again before she came close. Besides, she had to remember the kingpin. If she was going to get out -- and by fuck, was she going to get out, and every single other woman here if she could, that was her promise to her newly found and just as quickly lost friend Amele -- she could not afford to bring attention to herself.

She locked eyes on him, dark premium suit and thick chest. His face was turned from her presently, but she could see his bulky frame and middle-aged, lightly bearded chin.

And then he turned, and his eyes locked right on hers.

Paulo looked at the one on the ground. Her dark hair had strands strewn across her face from her encounter, and her glowing blue eyes raged at him with the fire of fury in them, turning their ice blue to a steamy hot red. He seemed to watch her for an instant in time, compelling her to memory, a subconscious recording of the moment freeze-framed in his archives.

Then with a dismissive flick, he turned, and was gone, and Jordan, and all the other newly incarcerated women were ushered roughly back into the shipping container to be taken to a hidden, nondescript prison far outside the city and kept there in chastity until they were bought by slave buyers and brothels.

Down the row of naked women, another red headed girl also fumed to herself silently. She stood half a head taller than the blonde woman beside her and her chest was equally as big, while she stood a full head taller than the one on the other side and bore a chest smaller than hers in multitudes. Her fists were clenched beside her legs and though she let her back remain arched to show no change in attitude or make her any taller than she already was, every muscle across her fit, toned torso was taut.

Rachel watched the thick, powerful man as he strode away down the corridor made from the specifically arranged containers until he turned into a side door in a crate and was gone. From her position in the centre of the group, she could see their captors leave, but it did no good. All she knew was that, somehow, there was a way down to ground level through the containers. She doubted they were climbing the crates, so perhaps makeshift stairs had been constructed in some of them with holes cut like manholes in their tops and bottoms to pass through.

Her eyes flicked back to the girl on the ground, who hadn't moved. Her fists were also clenched and she breathed hard. Her hard, angry glare flicked to Rachel's gaze and they locked together. The hatred died in those crystal blue eyes but the emotion never receded. She despised what she'd just been forced to witness. So did Rachel.

A moment later their gaze was lost as they were herded into one container, and seconds after the last heel passed over the threshold, the doors swung closed and with an ear-grating metallic shriek they locked into place with a crushing finality. ~

'You were one of my stock...' Paulo said matter-of-factly. Rachel's hateful glare didn't waver. 'I see. So you two I take it were the ringleaders in that little charade? I highly doubt this high-tech, nefarious establishment, buried in the side of a mountain would sit back and wait for some other nine-to-five working receptionist to run a breakout. No... No, to escape there would have taken some piss and vinegar indeed.'

'You stole women from their homes, from their families, and you locked them in chains and cells to sell to the highest fucking bidder,' Rachel spat in disgust. 'You're a fucking monster.'

'I think not, little girl. I think not.' Paulo responded coolly.

'I think so,' Jordan added hotly. 'In fact, I know you are. And I know you're going to hell after you've spent the rest of your days in a cell, except for you there won't be any escape.' Chelsea's teeth began to bite into her lip. There was something inside her that was turning her into a nervous, unsettled mess and she didn't know what it was.

'I'm not a bad person, you know.'

'You're inhuman.' Rachel spat back.

'No.'

'After all we've been through, why would we believe anything else? You enslaved us and we would have been sold to anyone and you wouldn't have given a thought about us.'

'I only do what I must. I must recover my family's wealth.'

'By selling human sex slaves?'

'If it is profitable.' Paulo seemed defensive. His usual demeanour was oddly missing, his powerful alpha male personality around others stepping back and allowing an almost apologetic man to show his face. Chelsea looked at him as he spoke, long and hard.

'What have you done with Chelsea?' When Jordan spoke, it didn't sound like her. Her voice was low and breathy, raspy. All three looked at her as one. When the reply came, it wasn't in the baritone of the male voice.

'He has done nothing, and yet he has done everything to me.' She said the words as though in a daze.