Whatever It Takes Pt. 08

"Clean it."

I licked his dick clean as it began to shrivel. I lifted my face from his prick when his grip on my hair relaxed.

Weakly, I leaned back on my heels, breathing hard and watching the two of them. I smiled like a pen dog that had successfully performed a trick. I looked up at him. Sweat gleamed on his face, stained his collar. He fought to catch his breath. He reached down, under my arm pits and half-lifted, half-threw me across the limo. I ended up in a sprawl on the floor of the moving vehicle. Even with my hands bound at the wrists behind me, I quickly scrambled up so my back was against the seat opposite the two men, my tits exposed through the chain vest, and my legs akimbo as I tried to brace myself on the floor of the car. The most degrading thing was not my position, as lewd as it was, but the dregs of his cum on my chin and lips – outward signs of how used and useable I had become on this island.

"We are here," was all Randy said.

"Ladies, we want to show you something that could happen to you if anything goes wrong tonight."

We had stopped before a nondescript building in what appeared to be the low end of a shanty town. There was a line of men out into the dirt street. The line continued up a narrow set of stairs. As we hobbled up on high heels, breasts exposed, arms bound, the men on the steps stared but did not touch. They were afraid of Patrick. Some of the men wore uniforms that were military-like but filthy while others had on soiled work clothes. Some were barefoot, unwashed, and odorous.

At the top of the steps we halted on a landing before a closed door. Patrick and Randy forced the men there to back down the steps.

Patrick gave us an orientation. "I want you to meet someone. The young lady inside is a Dutch U.N. aid worker who has a drug habit. Her name is Sophie Van de Berg. She accepted drugs for which she could not pay cash. This week she is working off her debt. Because she would not go along with the debt repayment process that I suggested and even tried to leave the island, her working conditions are not as nice as yours."

When he opened the door, the three women entered first. When we saw the situation, we tried to back out, but Randy just shoved us into a large room. There were four men in the room, a random sample of what we had seen on the stairs. It was not the room that caught our attention, but the bed in the center of the room, or rather what was happening on the bed.

There was a tall naked white woman there, maybe twenty five or so, with short blonde hair and a well-developed body. She had apparently just had sex with a drunken man that was weaving around trying to put on his pants. The Dutch woman was spread-eagled on bed with her hands cuffed above her to a headboard. One leg was tied to hook on the wall that ran next to the bed. At the junction of her legs there was a pool of cum that spread out on the gray mattress. The pool was fed by a thick stream of fluid trickling out of her crotch, running down her legs into the pool on the mattress. Her large breasts appeared bruised, although the rivers of cum rolling off her breasts muted the vividness of the bruises. Sticky, white scum covered even her face so that it looked like it was covered with a milky mask. I doubted even if her husband, if she had one, could recognize her. She gasped and coughed out more cum onto her breasts.

Her eyes were open and knowing as they stared at us. But what caught my attention was that even her long eyelashes had globs of cum clinking to them. I thought she was going to say something, but whatever it might have been was lost forever as another man climbed on the bed.

Shelley giggled, a totally out-of-place reaction to the scene that we were meant to witness. When I turned to her, even in the dim light of the room, I could see that her eyes were moving in and out of focus. The drug had affected her already. Danelle had a shocked look on her face so I knew that she was still processing information and not as far gone as Shelley.

The action continued. A black man on the bed straddled Ms. Sophie Van de Berg's chest. He gripped her straw blonde hair to propel her now-open mouth back and forth over his cock. The man gripped a handful of hair in his right hand to steady her head. Then he face fucked her We could hear her gag as his thrusts battered against the her throat. I hoped that Patrick had given her versed so would be zoned out even if following instructions.

Patrick broke our reverie, "Seen enough?"

They herded us down the stairs to the car. The men parted as we passed and then filled in behind us. All of them crowded forward to have sex with a near-comatose white woman who made the mistake of pissing Patrick off. We got the message. Each of us silently resolved to do whatever it took not to end up like the blonde U.N. worker who would probably never recover fully either mentally or physically.

As we neared the car, Patrick held me back a bit. "Elaine, Randy told me that you wanted to talk. I think I know what you want to talk about, and I am pleased that you want to expand our business relationship. I will see you early tomorrow morning. That is, I will see you if your performance this evening in front of this esteemed group brings credit on the Doll's House. If anything goes wrong tonight, then we may still have a conversation but it will be a very different discussion."

I understood what he wanted to communicate. This evening I was to get in, get fucked, get out, no fuss. Easy to say but maybe hard to do. Possibly I should have drunk the entire versed cocktail – it might well be better to be drug-controlled and mindlessly following instructions with a guaranteed memory of what those instructions involved.

At this point in my involuntary service as a whore, I had reached four conclusions:

1. Despite their threats, the criminal organization that had entrapped me and was selling my body would not seriously harm or kill me so long as I behaved in a way that brought them no publicity and satisfied their clients. Anything else would bring FBI agents and reporters down to Jamaica and that would be bad for business.

2. Just because I would be released did not eliminate the risk that Patrick and his minions and/or other associates would attempt to blackmail me or request favors in the future. There were too many videos and photos in too many hands to conclude anything other than I was at risk of having to be obligated to criminals for the rest of my life.

3. The only choice I had of eliminating or reducing their power over me was to join them and gain enough information on these criminals and rapists that I would be able to counter-threaten them with exposure of some portion of their business operations if they threatened to threatened me with exposure of what I had to do to survive here in Jamaica. I had to establish a situation of mutually assured destruction so that their leverage over me would be mitigated or eliminated.

4. My only way into this organization was through Patrick. I had to appear credible enough in his eyes to have him sponsor me as a willing recruit to the organization. Whatever it took I would need a recommendation from Patrick if I were to be able to gather enough information to achieve this desirable state of mutually assured destruction.

With those thoughts firmly in mind, I followed Patrick and the rest into the building for the 'slave auction.'