From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:09:51 1997

From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage

Subject: Doc's Orders: An Introduction

Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:09:51 GMT

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                            About Doc's Orders

                            ==================



It all started with "Captured Caroline" my long term project for

A.S.S.  Because of various rewrites I had a number of scenes left

over, scenes that it was impossible to reuse in the current CC

storyline.



So I created "Scattered Scenes" a methord of reusing these scenes by 

tying them together into a single independant story. The first of 

these call "The Hitch Hikers Guide to Slavery" deliberately finished 

part way through a story. This is because "Scattered Scenes" were

never meant to be complete but like Suki's Images just bit's and 

pieces of erotica.



But enough people wrote in wanting more. So I've expanded "Hitch 

Hikers" Into Doc's orders. 



Enjoy.....



Quin





From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:09:51 1997

From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage

Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap1 "The Hitchhikers Guide to Slavery"  (Mf/ff, B&D, NC Kidnap)

Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:09:51 GMT

Reply-To: tmquin@ibm.net

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************************************************************

                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER

                                     ===================



The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and

has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet.  If it

is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the

author.



All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons

living or dead is purely coincidental.  The author does not

necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this

story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.



Quin 1997

tmquin@ibm.net

************************************************************



                            Doc's Orders  by Quin

                            ==================



Chapter 1  "The Hitchhikers Guide to Slavery"

=====================================





I was returning from Vermont cursing Doc and his timing.  I admit I

*had* promised to look after his delivery problems personally.  I can

even vaguely remember taking his retainer but I hadn't agreed to work

Easter week and especially not during my first vacation in three

years.  For God sake my new Snowboard had hardly even been christened.

I told myself that whatever the job was it had better be good . I

wondered just why I had dropped everything to head back.



I could still remember Doc's phone call that morning, his British

accent so polite yet so demanding.  "But Charles old boy I thought we

had a deal.  You know that I wouldn't ask if the assignment didn't

require your special flair.  Besides I believe Kitten is preparing a

special dinner and you *know* how much she looks forward to having you

over...."



Kitten, he knew I couldn't refuse her.  She was my invisible leash,

his guarantee that he could reel me back at any time.  So here I was

cruising the back roads of Worcester County MA on an cold overcast 

Easter evening wondering just why he needed me so desperately.



I was so caught up in events that at first I didn't even notice them.

I suppose we've all seen hitchers from time to time, huddled by the

side of the road waving those pathetic little signs.  They look at you

with such hope as you approach that it's almost impossible to drive

away without feeling a complete heel.  I mean, most of the time when

I'm working I'm simply not allowed to stop, but somehow that doesn't

make me feel any less guilty.



I moment I saw those two I could tell there was something odd about 

them. There was no sign, no warm clothes, hell they didn't even signal

until I was almost past them.  I glanced in my mirror.  Two young

girls alone and in the middle of nowhere.  In some countries it would

be a trap, an obvious ploy of carjackers or robbers but this was New

England and I doubted it was anything that crude.  Still, five years

of Advanced Recon teaches you to take nothing at face value.  I pulled

up a good distance ahead of them and picked my spot so that any

potential ambusher would have to break cover to reach me.



In my mirror I watched as they ran up.  The leading girl looked to be

sixteen or seventeen, well built, perhaps five nine with shoulder

length blonde hair.  She was dressed in a waist length leather jacket

and a knee length plad skirt.  There seemed something familiar about

the outfit but in the dimming light I couldn't make it out.  In any

case I doubted that it was very warm. Still, at least she'd thought to

wear a sensible pair of shoes.  The pack she carried was small, good

for perhaps a couple of days and the lack of a bedroll or obvious tent

confirmed that these were not ardent outdoors men.  Off in the

distance her friend seemed to have prepared a little better.  I got

the impression of a mop of dark hair over a yellow waterproof jacket,

below that she wore jeans and a pair of ankle boots.



I swear that I stopped purely for humanitarian reasons, I wouldn't

have left a dog out on a night like that.  However, by the time they

reached me I admit I'd started to see the possibilities in the

situation.  I watched in the mirror as the blonde drew level; I could

tell what she was thinking, youngish guy on his own in a large old

car.  She hesitated, stopped and looked back towards her friend.  I

knew this area quite well, Doc's place was a few miles away. This road

was quiet, I figured they'd probably been here a while.  As her friend

came up I decided to up the pressure.





I wound the window down.  "You girls are lucky I came along," I said

in a friendly voice, "Not much traffic comes this way after dark and

that storm will be here real soon."  



The blonde looked up.  It was overcast, showers were a certainty

though I think the word *storm* would be pushing things.  While she

thought about it I looked her friend over.  The large brown eyes and

curly dark brown hair betrayed her Latin ancestry, her skin however

had a pale almost porcelain quality.  I guessed she was about the same

age as her friend though the serious expression on her face made her

appear more mature.  The blonde looked at her friend obviously waiting

for her opinion.  The dark girl glanced at me suspiciously.  She

seemed the practical one of the pair something she confirmed a minute

later when she silently shook her head.



Time for more pressure, "Don't have all day ladies, hell you haven't

even said were you want to go."



"W...worcester," The blonde stammered.



"I'm going to Bolton," I said firmly as if I expected them to argue,

"But I could drop you by I-91.  You can get a lift into Worcester

easily from there." I looked around, "Well it would be easier than 

gettin' one around here."



The blonde looked beseechingly at her friend.  I watched as the dark

haired girl did the calculation.  Two of them, one of me.  I got the

feeling that if she'd been on her own she'd have waited for something

less risky, but her friend was already cold and if they stayed here

much longer they would get wet.



She nodded, proving that perhaps she wasn't that smart after all.  The

blonde sighed thankfully and headed towards the trunk. 



"No good going there sweetheart," I said, " The trunk's full.

You'll have to put your stuff on the back seat."



She flushed a little when I called her "sweetheart" and she seemed to 

hesitate a moment.



I smiled, "You can dump those packs on the seat behind me.  One of 

you ride up front, makes it easier to talk." They looked at each 

other.  I could tell that neither really wanted to talk, but if that

was the price of the lift....  The blonde glanced at her friend.  The

brunette nodded again. The packs were thrown on the back seat as I 

suggested and the blonde came forward to the passenger door. Part 

one was complete; I had separated them.  The blonde struggled out of

her jacket and dumped it on top of the packs, underneath she wore a

tight polo neck sweater in a dark brown color.  Once I saw the

complete outfit I immediately recognized it as the uniform of an

exclusive Catholic boarding school.  The sweater may have been the

regulation style and color but she'd obviously taken some trouble to

ensure it flattered her figure.  I waited expecting the brunette to do

the same but the yellow coat stayed firmly in place.  She waited until

the blonde had got in  next to me then opened the back door

and slipped into the seat behind her friend.  I could see she was

going to be difficult. 



"Hi," I said offering my hand to the blonde. "Charlie Parker."



She didn't take the offered hand but instead looked me over.

"Beth," She said at length, "And that's Maria."



No comments, no jazz fans here I thought.  I also noticed that she

didn't give any surnames.  I glanced over at Maria who just nodded

politely, her body tight and weary.  If what I was planning was going

to work I needed to get Maria off her guard a little.  I noticed that

she'd positioned herself close to the door though she'd been sensible

enough to use the seat belt.



I smiled.



"Doesn't say much your friend." I said as we pulled away.



"We had a bad experience a couple of hours ago.  A truck driver....

He said he'd give us a lift but..."



"Oh I see.  I was going to ask how two nice young ladies from Saint

Mary's came to be so far from the beaten track."



They both stiffened, "Saint Mary's?"



Interesting reaction I thought; I decided to probe a little further.



"Yes I recognized the uniform.  You *are* from there right?"



The tension seemed to mount even more, in the corner of my eye I saw

the glances back and forth.  Something was going on between these two,

something that had led them to a back road miles from Boston.

Whatever it was they didn't want to be identified with it, had hoped

for some anonymity.



"You recognized the uniform...?"  Beth began.  I could tell that she

was about to deny it, claim I'd made a mistake.  Saint Mary's was an

exclusive school, the kind of place that the daughters of congressmen

and diplomats attended.  Such girls have been told all their lives

that they are better that the rest of us, taught to use their wits and

breeding against their enemies. I'd found that out from bitter 

experience. I decided I needed to take the upper hand. Time to head 

her off.



"My wife's an old girl."  I said sweetly, "The uniform's been updated

a little since her day but the Tartan in the skirt is unmistakable."



"Tartan...."  Beth began.  The plad was distinctive, the family Tartan

of one of the schools founders.  Few outside the Ivy League Set even

knew the school existed never mind be able to identify the Tartan on

sight.  I could feel Beth looking me over. St. Mary's girls go on to

marry into the best families in the country, I didn't seem to fit the

part.  Still it's hard to tell these days, I once stood next to Bruce

Willis in a store in San Fran and I was probably better dressed than

he was.  I could be a rock star, a corporate robber baron slumming at

his New England retreat, any number of things.  I felt the tension in

the car increase still more, was I *somebody*.



Time to let her off the hook.



"Check the yearbook for '82 when you get back.  Her maiden name was

Jennifer O'Neil.  Pretty redhead, don't think she got any special

distinctions.  She was a day girl there for four years."  



Beth relaxed a little, day girls were usually on scholarships, normal

middle class Boston girls that the school took in to maintain their

Christian piety.  Beth didn't say anything but her body language spoke

volumes.  She'd been afraid.  Afraid that we'd meet at some Alumni

party, afraid that perhaps I moved in the same exclusive circles she

did.  Afraid that their presence here might somehow make it back to

the school or daddy??  Seemed reasonable.



She cleared her throat.  "Your wife was a day girl?"  I caught that

tone in her voice, that upper-class whine.  Five minutes ago she'd

been a little girl freezing her butt off by the side of the road, an

object of some pity even for me.  Now after a few minutes in the warm

all her old instincts were reasserting themselves.  My heart hardened

and the fate I'd decided on for these two was set.



"Yes that's right," I said, "She was on a scholarship.  She says that

it's a great school, though she did take some ragging."  I watched her

reaction, feeling the tension bubble burst.  I was no one important,

there was little chance that I would mention their presence here to

anyone they needed to worry about.  My suspicions confirmed I felt it 

was time to change the subject.



"So this trucker gave you a bad time?"



Now her temperature was back up Beth's ego was back with a vengeance.



"He was an awful man, said that he'd take us to Worcester straight

away but once we were out of town he started to change.  He pulled off

the Interstate and started making lewd suggestions.  When we wouldn't

do what he wanted he threw us out."



I took this in for a second.  The place I'd found them was quiet and

there were large numbers of wooded side roads big enough to take a

semi.  Friend trucker probably thought he had a party on his hands and

tried to get some privacy.  I had no doubt that these two had led him

on.  Despite what you see on TV truckers are not usually random

maniacs. Most work for big companies and those companies run a virtual

cartel.  No working Joe was likely to risk being blacklisted for two

little tarts like these.  If he'd turned off it was because *someone*

had given him the idea that he would be rewarded.  Still I kept my

thoughts to myself.



"So what kind of lewd suggestions did this guy make?"



Beth seemed uncomfortable, "Well you know?"



I shrugged.  "I'm afraid I don't," I said, "The only young lady *I*

make lewd comments to these days is my wife.  I take it from your

reactions that these were of a sexual nature?"



Beth nodded indignantly.



"And how old are you girls?"



"Sixteen," Beth said.



I sounded shocked.  "I hope you took the guy's number," I said, "He

sounds a complete sleezeball."



"We did," Beth said proudly, " And when we get back we intend to send

his company a letter."



An anonymous letter I thought. After all they wouldn't want to have to

explain what they were doing hitchhiking to Worcester.



Doc's was now only twenty or thirty miles away.  Soon my relationship

with these two charming ladies would have to get a little unpleasant.

I intended to put that off as long as possible, every mile closer to 

Doc's was a bonus. To keep them distracted I started

chatting, asking about the school, dropping the names of a few of the

teachers that had been there when I'd lived nearby.  As I'd expected

Maria said nothing, she just sat behind watching.  Beth was a fountain

of information and though I got no closer to the underlying mystery of

what they were doing here or exactly who they were she dropped enough

clues for me to start piecing things together.  Beth's father was a

lawyer, some medium ranking partner in a large Boston firm. Not 

especially ambitious he seemed content to bide his time and wait for

his more senior colleagues to die.  Maria's father was a banker of

some kind, working out of the country for Chase Manhattan.  I felt the

disapproval from Maria as Beth let that slip but there was little she

could do.  Beth had been raised in an world were what you did wasn't

so important as who you were and who you knew.  Name dropping was like

second nature to her.  Too young to have much influence herself she

relied on hints about her access to power to impress.  I glanced at 

her.  She was a little silly cunt who was about to forefill a fantasy

I'd had for twenty years.



I started to move towards Doc's place.  Having been in the Service I

tend to think that everyone has the same sense of direction that I do

and I confess that I'd expected some comment.  However, they didn't

seem to notice, at least Beth kept talking and Maria kept silent as

before.



I was starting to think I could take them all the way to Doc's door

when Maria spoke.  "We should have reached the Interstate by now!"



It was an accusation, a challenge of sorts.  To some extent I liked

Beth, she was stupid, arrogant and vain but wasn't really that

unfriendly.  Maria seemed to be a complete bitch, a real ball breaker,

it would be interesting to see what happened with her.



"Yep," I said but kept driving.



Beth turned towards me eyes wide with fear.



"Relax," I said, "I'm not like your trucker friend.  I'm not about to

leave you two by an on ramp in the middle of nowhere.  There's an

oasis a few miles further down the Interstate you can wait in the warm

there and you'll have a better chance of getting a lift on to

Worcester."



Beth, the stupid bitch, really wanted to believe, "An oasis?"



"A truck stop.  Hell I couldn't go back to the wife and tell her that

I left two St.  Mary's girls to fend for themselves on a night like

this."



Beth was satisfied but as expected Maria was more cautious, "If this

place exists why not use the Interstate to get to it?"  she asked.



I shrugged.  "That section's a toll road," I said.  "I'm willing to

help you girls out but I don't see why I should pay for doing it!"



That shut Maria up for now but I could tell the honeymoon was over.

The next time I needed to adjust the lights I reached over and threw

an unmarked switch near the driver's door.  From now on the clock was

ticking, it would only take them a few minutes to realize what I'd

done then all hell would break loose.  Fortunately I knew of a perfect

place not so far from here.  It was quiet and private and if I could

reach it my troubles would be over.



If........



If is a million dollar word, it sometimes means yes, sometimes no.



In this case it seemed to mean *yes* because despite deviating from

the route the girls didn't notice.  In fact it was only when I pulled

off into the woods that they finally realized their danger and of 

course by then it was far too late.



Surprisingly it was Beth who reacted first.  "What the...  What are

you doing?"  she demanded.



I smiled, "End of the line......."



Beth struggled.  Her hand flashed down to the release button of her

seat belt.  I watched as she pressed the little red button.



Nothing happened.



She tried again, and again.  I watched amused as she pounded it 

harder but still it didn't release.  About this time she tried to move

forward, but the seat belt reel was locked and she was pinned to

her seat.  I glanced at Maria who was starting to come to the same

realization, that the seat belts were somehow locked and effectively 

strapped them to their seats.  That's when the screaming started.



Beth let rip, no surprise there I'd marked her as a mouthy bitch from

the start.  The big surprise was how little fuss Maria made; she just

looked on with hollow eyes.  I suppose it's the problem with being too

cerebral, you can't deal with sudden changes that well.  Still it gave

me a little more time so I endeavored to use it.  I reached under my

seat and found the small cloth bag I'd velcro'd there.  I don't think

Beth even saw the handcuffs until it was too late.  She was so busy

thrashing about and pulling on the belt.  I had her first wrist locked

before she even knew she was in trouble.  She struggled a little as I

passed the other bracelet through the lap belt and caught her free

hand but by then it was over. With her hands chained to her waist she

couldn't stop me from forcing the ball gag into her screaming mouth.

I tightened the strap and the car was suddenly quiet.  She made a few

muffled sounds and I could hear Maria whispering a prayer but compared

to seconds before all was silent.



Beth started to weep.  Facing me she tried to say something but all

that emerged from behind the gag was a muffled nonsense.  I couldn't

tell what she said but her body language, hands clutched together,

eyes wide told me the story.  Beth was begging for her life. I felt a 

wave of satisfaction.  Still she could wait for now. My first priority



was making Maria "comfortable".



The seat belts had been rigged by a friend of mine.  Tiny solenoids

activated by the dashboard switch locked the buckle and reel 

mechanisms on all the passenger belts leaving the driver free to move.

I'd only used it once before on more than one girl and that experience

had led me to ask for a number of refinements.  Leaving the car I

walked around to Maria's door.  Maria was still struggling, though

being an intelligent girl she probably only did it out of habit.  If

she'd wanted to she could have reached over and ungagged Beth, but she

didn't probably because she knew it wouldn't do any good.  Beth had

been very vocal for most of the last five minutes.  No one had come.



The bag had one more gag and three pairs of cuffs left.  I got some

cuffs ready then opened Maria's door.  Pushing a button on my key fob

I was rewarded by a loud click as Maria's seat belt disengaged.  For a

second she paused, then with remarkable speed she sprang from the car.

I grabbed but caught the coat.  We struggled for a second then she

managed to slip out of it and ran for the trees.  Throwing the coat

aside I started after her.  I wasn't worried, her only chance was to

make for the road and hope she could find someone to flag down before

I got to her.  She was heading the wrong way.  She was good, probably

a track star at school, but here she was in my world.  No amount of

sand track practice can prepare you for running on broken ground at

night.



She's almost made the trees when an exposed root brought her down.  I

needed no further encouragement, I was on her in an instant and her

hands were cuffed behind her before she'd taken her first breath.

Only then, when all else was lost did she start to scream.  Even

then it seemed a half hearted effort.  Like her struggles in the car I

felt it was as much to be doing *something* as it was a serious

attempt to escape..



I forced the ball gag into her mouth and tightened the staps. Now she 

finally admitted defeat and stopped struggling.  We waited a few 

minutes to get our breath back.  Then I pulled her up and dragged her

back to the car.  As we got closer I could hear Beth's muffled sobs. 

Now they were both gagged I doubted any sounds could carry beyond the 

first line of trees.



Beth looked up and I smiled at the look of despair that flickered 

across her face. I think she really believed Maria would get 

away. The two girls held a brief gagged "conversation" that became 

rapidly boring.  Smiling at Beth I dragged Maria towards the back of 

the car.



I paused by the trunk and opened it.  There was my bag and snow board

which I tossed aside for the moment.  Maria struggled but I was no

longer in a mood to play so I slammed the heel of my foot hard against

the back of her leg hearing the muffled squeal and feeling her

collapse to the ground.  Next to the spare wheel was a larger bag with

more supplies.  Plucking it out I turned to find Maria trying to crawl

away.  Grabbing her by the shoulders I carried her the few feet to her

discarded coat and dumped her on it.  Then I opened my bag and went to

work.



I used a couple of straps to fasten her legs together temporarily at

knees and ankles. This was just to stop her struggling too much as

I applied the duct tape.  I started at her ankles winding the tape

tightly around her legs until I reached the knees.  These I left free

as I wanted to be able to bend her legs but I wrapped another band of

tape halfway up her thighs to pinion the top of her legs.  Wrists and

forearms were similarly bound.  Like Beth, Maria had been wearing a

polo necked sweater underneath her raincoat and while duct tape over

jeans made a viable bond I was a little worried about the wool

stretching.  So recovering the straps from her legs I reused them 

above and bellow her elbows to strengthen her bonds. 



Maria had nice tits and now that her arms were pulled back they were

thrust out in a most appealing way.  I paused a second to have a quick

grope and listened to her muffled protests.  She was still a little

too loud for my taste.  Rolling her over I removed the ball gag and

replaced it with an inflatable bladder.  I used a small pump to

inflate this until her cheeks were distended and her eyes bulged.

Satisfied, I secured it in place first with layer after layer of duct

tape and finally with a tight Ace bandage.  Another grope test found

Maria very effectively silenced.  I finished up by using a couple of

straps to hog-tie her wrists to her ankles.  She complained a little,

or at least tried to but Maria was a realist, despite her little show

of defiance she'd realized it was over the moment she'd been unable to

unfasten the seat belt.  All she wanted now was to survive all this.

I admit she gave me some problems when she realized she was destined

for the trunk but hog-tied she was in no position to stop me.  Once

I'd

got her nicely tucked away inside I threw her coat on top and closed

the lid.  My bags and snow board joined their packs on the back seat

and I turned my attention back to Beth.



I'd left the Service just after Desert Storm following a 

fraternization problem between myself and a female Navy officer.  We

aren't talking Tailhook here, in fact she outranked me. To be

honest as we were on our own time and there were no husbands or wives

to get hurt I never saw it as anyone's business but our own.  They say

that dress whites and Marine green don't mix but we did ok there for a

while.  Still the Brass didn't see it that way and decided someone had

to pay.  I was on my final tour intending to Re-up later that year so 

I was the obvious candidate.  She was young and ambitious I was old

and cynical so I cut a deal with the Brass.  No charges, I just left 

at the end of my final tour and saved her from the scuttlebutt.



When I got out I'd kicked around for a while but to be honest I'd been

in too long to be good at anything else.  Mercenary work just didn't

interest me.  Hell, I'd fought and some of my buddies had died to make

the New World Order and I didn't feel like helping to break it up

again.



I came across Doc in a gambling house, the old bastard was one hell of

a poker player, and we'd got to talking.  Well, he'd been buying so I

did most of the talking.  In the end he asked if I wanted to make some

good money for a simple delivery job.  I'd thought he meant drugs and

had been a little reluctant to agree but I was low on funds by then.

In the end I just figured that anyone taking that stuff deserved what

they got so I'd agreed.  



We went back to his hotel room were he introduced me to a beautiful

Asian girl called Mi Lin.  I figured Mi was a hooker he'd hired for

the night so wasn't so surprised when he offered me her services.  I

admit that those little oriental chicks always pushed my buttons and

this one was so willing.  I'd been around the world many times and

used the local pro's in just about every country you can imagine but

none were as eager to please as Mi Lin.  Some don't to oral, some

don't do anal.  Mi never said no to anything and in addition she had

this cute habit of calling me *Master* all the time.  She was

literally the best fuck I'd ever had.



The next day Doc turned up and I figured it was time to pay the piper.

I'd expected him to give me a briefcase or something.  Instead he told

me to deliver Mi Lin to a cat house in New Mexico.  It would take two

or three days and of course I could use her as I saw fit during that

time.  I'd expected Mi to object but she seemed quite happy.  It was

then that Doc told me what he did for a living.  



Doc was a trainer of slaves.  He could take any normal healthy woman

and turn her into an obedient sex machine in a little under six weeks.

It was hard to believe but Doc claimed Mi was living proof.  I don't

know what Mi had been doing two months before but now she was content

to fuck and suck; all night if necessary.  I'd taken her on the trip

to New Mexico half expecting her to jump ship at the first opportunity

but she seemed happy to be going along almost as if she looked forward

to life as a cheap whore.



At first I couldn't see how Doc's business worked.  I'd been around a

bit and knew the score.  Hundreds of runaways flood into New York

every year and there are pimps and pushers at every street corner just

waiting for them.  Want a sex slave?  Just pluck a girl off the

street, beat her a little, pump her full of smack until she's hooked

and put her to work.  That first year all I did was deliver slaves and

Doc paid me a fortune to be a glorified taxi driver.  I couldn't see

how he made his money.  Who would pay for such a thing when junk and

intimidation was cheaper?



Then as I experienced more of Doc's girls I began to see.  First they

were so willing, so responsive to a man's needs.  While you're with

them you are literally the center of their world.  They loved sex, in

fact they seem to physically *Need* it.  When they look at your dick

the hunger in those eyes is real.  When you fuck them, they really do

enjoy it, really do cum and cum.  There is no deception, she isn't

faking or making out her shopping list while you fuck her.  Doc's

girl's like you, like what you say and who you are, are happy just to

be with you.  Any man no matter what he looks like feels like a

prince.



Then of course there's the sex.  In terms of oral, they have mouths

more talented than those of twenty year Las Vegas strip girls, they

can hold a man at the edge of ecstasy for a lifetime.  When they fuck

it's like nothing you've ever known, they know how to use their body

weight and internal muscles to best effect sometimes overloading you

with sensation.  Best of all of course they'll do anything you say.  I

began to see how a brothel owner could corner the market, reach the

point where he could force his competition out of business.  Best of

all Doc's girls could continue to command top dollar for years after a

normal girl would be forced to retire.  They may be initially more

expensive but Doc's slaves outlasted dozens of drugged up runaways.





After I'd been working for Doc for about a year he asked me if I

wanted to try recruiting, that is finding women and girls for Doc to

process.  We usually picked runaways or prostitutes, women who could

go missing without being noticed.  Occasionally though we got special

orders though Doc's contacts.  Men who wanted their ex-wives, jilting

lovers or pushy bosses turning into fuck toys.  Because of the risks

these jobs often paid better that providing a fresh slave.  I pulled

twenty three kidnappings last year, none of which have ever been

reported.  I've become the ultimate predator, like a big jungle cat I

know my territory and my prey, know what to risk and when.



And like a cat I sometimes play with my victims.



The moment I'd seen Beth in the full St.  Mary's uniform some  twenty

year old feelings of pain and anger had been rekindled.  I knew that

somewhere God was laughing.  The years disappeared in an instant and

I'd known immediately that I had to take them.  It may seem unfair

that they should pay for someone else's mistake but it did have a

certain symmetry.  Besides every St. Mary's girl I'd ever met was a

total bitch and these two were unlikely to be different.



I smiled at Beth who shuffled in her seat as much as the belt would

allow.  I had something special in store for her and it started with a

gag.  I reached into the bag and found what I wanted.  It was a rubber

mouthpiece shaped at the front a little like a boxer's gumshield.  One

of Doc's perverted friends was a dentist who we called in if a slave

needed dental work.  Once in a drunken stupor I'd explained this idea

to him and the next time I'd visited Doc's a parcel had been waiting

for me......



Carefully I filled the gumshield with a special resin.  She watched

silently probably trying to figure what I was doing.  When I was ready

I took a strap from the bag and slipped it loosely around her neck.

She panicked.  She started shaking her head blabbering and crying.  It

took me a while to understand.



"Stop it!  I have no intention of strangling you, that isn't what the

strap is for.  Now cut it out or I'll hit you."



She stopped, eyes full of fear.



Quickly I unbuckled the ball gag and before she had time to respond

shoved the rubber mouthpiece between her teeth.  As she shook her head

and tried to spit it out I forced one end of the strap under her jaw

and the other over her head.  Then I tightened it clamping her teeth

down on the gumshield.  She blubbered, but she couldn't get her 

mouth open. Next came the cuffs. Up front was good,

behind was better.  I released her seat belt then one wrist.  She

tried to resist but her position was hopeless.  I pulled a small loop

of fishing twine loose from the seat and threaded the cuffs through it

before refastening her wrist behind her.  She tugged for a while but

there was no give. Her hands were fastened behind her to the seat.  I 

replaced the seat belt and pushed the magic button to lock it. She 

tried to move forward but found that she was strapped to her chair

once more.  Reaching into the bag I took out a leg clincher, a device

that straps around the thighs and clamps the legs together.  She

struggled and as her legs weren't currently bound it proved quiet an

effort to get the clincher on and tightened.  However once it was done

the effect was perfect.  Beth's upper legs were completely

immobilized.  Lower legs were more of a problem.  I have some special

boots at home that are ideal for this but of course they are never

around when you need them.  Instead I had an interesting device.  This

was a length of a rubber material the outside of which was covered in

cotton cloth, the inside with Velcro.  Reaching down I wrapped it

tightly around her lower legs just above her ankles.  Pulling her legs

back I fastened an eye on the device to a small hook under the seat.

She moaned a little but now she couldn't move her legs at all.



Then I removed the chin strap, sitting back so I could see her 

reaction.  For a second her eyes bulged, then she gurgled.  I smiled.

The resin had set, cementing her teeth to the gumshield and locking

her jaws closed.  Still her gurgles were too loud.  Forcing her lips

apart I located the small valve set in the front to the gumshield and

inserted the pump I'd used earlier with Maria.  As the bladder in the

mouthpiece started to inflate Beth's cries became more and more

muffled.  When I determined she was quiet enough I removed the pump 

and did a grope test to confirm.  Satisfied, I stuck a strip of flesh

colored tape over her mouth being very careful to work it around her

lips.  The tape was thin and but for color differences it was hard to

tell were her skin stopped and the tape started.  Despite her

struggles I managed to apply a layer of foundation makeup to her face

and the tape.  After a few threats she held still enough for me to

apply the next layer.  I finished by painting a pair of pouty lips on

the tape with lip gloss.  Even sitting next to her I couldn't see the

join. The tape was invisible, the gloss lips looked like they were her

own. Even a few feet away it would be impossible to tell she was 

gagged. The mouthpiece and tape together were almost a 100% effective 

you could stand a few feet away and hear nothing.  I pulled the plad

skirt down over the leg clincher then got out and walked to her door.

I glanced inside.  Her cuffed hands were behind her back and out of

sight.  The leg clincher was hidden by the skirt, the binder at her

ankles looked like knee socks and of course there was no sign of the

gag.  A casual observer could see nothing strange.  I smiled then got

back inside, as a final thought I pulled out a long dark wig and put

it on her head.  I doubted anyone would remember her but it didn't

hurt to make her look a little different.  Satisfied I started up and

headed for the road.



Reaching over I found Beth's breast though the sweater and started to

massage it.  I became aware of a very faint muffled protest but the

engine covered it completely.



"Tell me Beth was this what the impudent trucker wanted?"  Of course

she didn't answer.  "Now come on Beth," I said, "You can nod and

shake.  I'm sure you can answer simple questions.  You're helpless,

you must realize that.  The only hope you and your friend have is to

please me and it would please me if you answer.  Understand?"



She nodded.



"Good girl," I said encouragingly.  "Now I'll repeat the question.

Was this what the trucker wanted?"



She nodded and looked down.



"Bet he wanted a blow job too didn't he?"



She nodded again.



"Thought so.  You see I doubt his schedule would leave him the time to

fuck even one of you so he'd have to take a couple of quickies.  Funny

isn't it, if you hadn't been so high and mighty and had actually

sucked the poor bastard you'd be safe in Worcester by now."



She nodded and looked at the floor.  A couple of hours ago she'd been

horrified at the prospect of giving some poor trucker a blow job.  Now

I think she'd suck the whole Teamsters Union just to be safe in

Worcester.



"Tell me Beth do you want to suck me?"



She nodded frantically.  It hadn't escaped her attention that I'd have



to remove the horrible gag for her to blow me.



"What about fucking me. Do you want to fuck me Beth?"

She hesitated, I smiled.  She didn't want to go that far.  "Well I'm

afraid you are going to fuck me Beth and suck me and do whatever else

I want do you want to know why?"



Getting no response I decided to tell her anyway.



"You see Beth back in '76 I was just a little older than you are now

and living just a few miles from your Alma Mater."  She looked up.

"That's Latin for St. Mary's." I smiled. "Anyway I met this girl,

let's call her Jane.  She looked a lot like you, about the same size,

same blonde hair, same uniform.  I loved her.  You know they say young

love burns the hottest.  Are you in love Beth?"



She shook her head.



"Shame," I said, "Young love is a wonderful thing.  You see my mother

died when I was very young so when I fell for this girl I fell real

hard.  We had sex day and night almost continuously every opportunity

we got.  Jane was one randy bitch, she was never satisfied.  Cunt,

ass, mouth."  I smiled evilly, "You'll see.  I wanted to marry her but

when I suggested it she backed away and wouldn't even answer my calls.

She was real hard to get to while she was at school so I waited for

the Easter break.  It must be close to twenty years ago today, I'm

sure you can see the symmetry Beth.  I was just amazed.  Anyway I went

to her families place in Boston to confront her.  She laughed in my

face, told me that I was just a toy.  A blue collar boy she could just

use and discard, worse her father was there and he offered me money to

get lost.  Told me to take it and blow or he'd get his friend the

police commissioner to have me picked up.  I left with them laughing

at me Beth, feeling helpless and alone.  Just as helpless and alone as

you feel now."



Several cars had passed I'd watched her reaction, felt her despair at

knowing that the other drivers could see nothing wrong.



"I joined the Marines.  Got involved in Recon, did my share of black

ops.  When I left the service I met this guy.  He trains slaves,

claims he can turn any woman into a sex toy in a few weeks.  Once he

offered to make a slave for me, sort of a Christmas bonus.  He said if

I chose the woman he would do the rest.  So I went out to find Jane,

it wasn't difficult, her face was in the society columns almost

daily.  Trouble was that she was married, had a couple of kids.

Kids need a mother Beth, growing up without one I realized that.  I

could have taken her, could have used her as a plaything as she used

me but then her kids would have suffered.  It didn't seem fair somehow

so I let her go.  My friend's offer still stands though and all I need

is a girl.  You are going to be that girl Beth.  In a couple of weeks

you'll be sucking and fucking like a good little whore."



We passed through a small town and I watched as Beth tried desperately

to attract someone's attention with the little movement she had, she

got a few strange looks but no one realized what was going on.  I

smiled.  By the time we left town she was weeping.  I felt her despair

and knew Doc would be pleased, the first stage of processing had

already begun.



About an half hour later and still a few miles from Doc's I pulled

over and went around to her side.  Doc has a rule, one that we who

work for him rigidly obey, no slave will ever know the exact location

of Doc's house.  Doc supplies girls all over the country and once

they've left him he can no longer be certain how secure they'd be

kept.  It was possible that despite his training a girl could get away

and alert the authorities.  Our clients always work through a chain of

intermediaries and don't know our location but the girls *have* to be 

brought here for training.



I lowered Beth's seat letting it recline down as far as I could.

Reaching into the bag I took a small tube of cream and told her to

close her eyes.  She jumped a little as I applied the cream to her

lashes, but she would see the reason soon enough. Very gently I

stuck an oval of surgical tape over each eyelid sealing them closed.

Satisfied she could see nothing I took a simple sleep mask like the

ones you get on long distance flights and fastened it over her eyes.

Closing the door I cast a critical eye at the scene but could see

nothing suspicious.  How many times on a long trip does your passenger

try to sleep?  It was dark and quite late and my passenger tired of

being woken by the light was using a sleep mask to try and get some

rest.  Satisfied I checked on Maria.



The girl looked up the moment I opened the trunk.  She tried to say

something but of course it was pointless.  A quick check of her bonds

found she'd been unable to budge a single one. Maria would probably 

only see a brief glimpse of the place between trunk and dungeon. Still

a rule is a rule.  The quick application of a padded leather blindfold

ensured she would see nothing when we took her out.

 

Satisfied that my guests were comfortable I pressed on to Doc's.

Every mile brought me a little closer to Kitten and by the time I was

entering the lane I was very, very hard.  It's said that even a

craftsman can make a mistake and Kitten was mine.  I'd come across her

in a New York alleyway on a cold December day five years ago.  I could

see that she was young, though the grime and the smell kept me from

realizing just how young.  She was just sitting in a corner starving,

contemplating whether to sell her blood or her virtue first. Then I

came along and made that decision for her.  She was the easiest

capture I ever made though I feel she'd probably have willing signed

up for slavery if it meant 3 squares and a warm bed.  She traveled to

Doc's in my trunk very securely bound and gagged but it proved

unnecessary as she gave me no trouble.  It was only later while we 

were cleaning her up that we realized the truth. Kitten was only

thirteen years old.  



Now neither Doc nor myself are pedophiles and we don't deal with

anyone that is.  That meant that we had a slave who was a good three

years ahead of her sell by date.  We discussed it, even contemplated

throwing her back but it was far too risky.  Besides as we watched her

wolf down that first meal we realized what a hard time she'd had.



It took little encouragement for her to tell us her story.  Her mother

had been a Pro in Pittsburgh, she hadn't known her father.  She'd been

taken into care at age nine when her mom had been put away for the

third time.  Somehow her mother had got an early parole but had died

of a drug overdose before she could reclaim her daughter.  Kitten had

been in and out of foster care since then finally ending up in a

children's home.  She didn't want to say much more but Doc's

examination had revealed the truth.  At thirteen Kitten was no longer

a virgin and hadn't been for some time.



In the end the solution to the Kitten problem was obvious.  Doc lived

alone except for various "guests" and to be honest he wasn't as young

as he was.  So Kitten became his house slave, cooking, cleaning

 and looking after the old man's needs.  He now claims that he called 

her Kitten because of the way she likes having her hair stroked but I

can remember what he really said that first time.  After all  Kitten

is as good a name as any for a little pussy :-)



At fifteen Kitten's sexual side started to assert itself and with some

reluctance Doc started teaching her the various tricks he taught his

sex slaves.  She proved to have quite an appetite and on her sixteenth

birthday, when she was beyond Doc's taboos, she had taken him to bed

and virtually raped him.  I used to have trouble explaining to others

just who she was.  She was Doc's slave, lover, housekeeper,

nursemaid, assistant, companion........  granddaughter???  In a

strange way maybe so.  In the end Doc gave me the definitive answer.

"Sorcerers apprentice!"  he said with a smile and from then on it was

settled.



I bumped down the drive the final few yards to Doc's door.  I kept

asking him to get it surfaced but he just smiled.  The noise, he said,

was an extra warning of visitor in case his numerous electronic

systems broke down.  As I neared the door I heard his voice from

inside.



"Charles, old boy, before you come in go to the beer cooler and bring

me a couple of cans.  Take what you want while you're there."



An old wood and wire cooler sat on the porch, it had no refrigeration

other than the cold New England air, but that seemed to be enough.  I

knew what I'd find inside, cans of British beer sent to Doc by one of

his European customers.  Grabbing a couple more for myself I went

inside.



"You should put these in the refrigerator" 



"Dear me Charles, whatever for?"



"Sorry I forgot. You drink English beer warm."



Doc smiled, and combat began.  "Not at all dear boy.  Warm British

beer is I'm afraid an American exaggeration.  Beer should be kept at

the *right* temperature.  In my youth it used to be hand pumped from

vats in the pub cellar.  Britain is a cold country, dear boy, I assure

you it arrives anything but warm.  The problem you have here is that

you overcool your beer.  It's a man's drink not some fizzy beverage,

it should be treated with respect."



 "Still as grouchy as ever I see."



"One of the benefits of age I'm afraid.  In another fifty years you'll

see it's attractions."



I poured the beer into the glass he offered and sat back.  "Well you

wanted me and I'm here.  So what's so damned important?"



"Ah yes.  I'm sorry to drag you from your holidays but something of an

emergency has come up.  I'm doing a special job for one of our New

York clients, two girls to be prepared in advance of some office

outing.  Very good money obviously but due to some mix-up the date's

been brought forward."

 

I sipped the beer, "Are they ready?"



"Oh yes, have been for a few weeks I've been holding them here until

the client was ready.  It's sort of a strange deal, he wants them to

do something at this party of his, then he want's us to dispose of

them."



"Dispose?"



"Juan will take them no problem.  Teressa has also expressed an

interest though I don't know yet if she wants both.  As you'll see

they're more valuable as a set but there are problems with Mexico at

the moment.  Still with the training paid for we could almost afford

to give them away....."



"Seems straight forward," I said, "Can't see that there is too much of

a problem."



Doc shuffled uneasily. "Truth is that there are some problems."



"Oh?"



"You are familiar with my techniques Charles.  You know that some have

taken fifty years to develop.  I admit to having some failures in the

past but for perhaps the past thirty years I've been sure enough of my

findings to be able to draw up certain axioms."



I nodded, when he first told me what he did I'd not really believed

him.  In the Marines I'd been through special training, tortured by

professionals to find my breaking point and give me the tools to

resist torture by the other side.  With constant physical and mental

abuse almost anyone will break, the trainers job was to gauge that

point before the subject was irreversibly damaged.



Compared to Doc those guys were in the Stone Age.  I've picked up a

runaway and two months later seen the same girl turned into a

accomplished whore.  Doc's girls aren't just obedient, they are so

compliant, so willing.  Doc claims his technique makes the slave

actively need sex, they have an enormous appetite and seem to

genuinely enjoy every moment.  Pleasure, he says, is much more

effective persuader than pain.  Hurt someone and all they'll do is try

and avoid what caused the pain.  Pleasure someone and they will

actively seek out more.



Doc scratched his nose, "The problem is this.  Our client wanted one

of the girls to maintain most of her original personality.  That is,

he wanted her aware of what she was doing and able to respond in a

characteristic way to her environment.  Now as you know this implies

that rather than break the girl we should condition her with various

desired responses.  This means that she would appear as normal but

when given a trigger event or an order from the master she's been

conditioned to obey she would perform the desired task."



I nodded. After six years I understood *that* much.



"All my research shows such a thing requires between three and six

months depending on subject.  I've *never* produced such a girl in

less time, not with total success anyway.  The problem is that our

client's time scale has left a little under six weeks for training.

That was barely enough time to break her friend.  I've made a start, I

feel that she'll do the job he requires but our control of her is very

unstable.  I'm afraid for the most part you must consider both of them

hostile and transport them accordingly."



New recruits were "hostile," that meant that if they weren't tied down

they would try to run away.  Usually transporting one of Doc's girls

after processing was easy.  No escape attempts, no bonds, you just

drove them somewhere like they were regular people.  In fact the only

downside was that if you didn't fuck them every night they had a

tendency to be moody in the morning.  Tough job but someone has to do

it.



"What about this "party" if she gives us problems there We could have

witnesses?"



Doc smiled, "I've thought of that. I'll give you a drug, it's a will 

suppressant, inject her with it about twenty minutes before you arrive

and she won't give you much trouble for the next few hours.  Let the 

girls do their thing, then pack them up, ship them back and let me

worry what to do with them."



The plan seemed reasonable, though the risks involved in transporting 

an unstable slave must be worth double. Then I remembered.  "Doc, you 

remember you offered to process a slave for me?"



"Yes?"



"Well I've found one.  I recruited a couple of hitchers tonight and

one of them is perfect."



"Recruited? Not around here I trust?"



I smiled, "Twenty, thirty miles."



I heard Doc breath in, "Charles, how many times do I have to tell you.

We do not recruit around here.  For God sake not even a dog pees in

his own basket."



"I didn't intend to take them! When you see her you'll understand."



"Very well.  I suppose if they're here it's a little too late.  We'll

need Kitten.  You'd better get her."



"Where is she?"



"In her basket."



"Basket?" I was surprised, " Is she being punished?"



"No, our little Kitten has a few more kinks than even we knew.  Go get

her and you'll see."



Doc keeps his slaves in hidden underground cells and dungeons.

In fact nothing to do with his illicite career exists above the 

surface.  This means that if we got unlucky and the place was raided

it was unlikely to yield any clues.  However Kitten had been a

problem.  A house slave has to wash and clean and look after her

master which is fine except a sudden raid was likely to find her above

ground.  With this in mind we had built Kitten's "Basket" a small

hidden cell concealed within part of the fireplace.  At night she had

slept underground with the others, but during the day when she wasn't

needed or if the security system warned of a sudden visitor she would

be locked up in the basket until Doc was ready to let her out.  Doc

had been a cautious man, despite Kitten's good will he had still kept

her bound and gagged for much of the first three months.  It hadn't

been uncommon to see the girl naked but for her bonds struggling to

clean the floor with her hands tied.  Doc had kept her naked not for

any sexual reason but because the lack of clothes and the cold 

weather outside discouraged escape.



Gently I pushed the hidden latches and swung the basket's door open.

Kitten was inside dressed in a leather basque and bikini brief set.

Stockings and high heel pumps were a must of course as that was one of

Doc's favorite fetishes as were the long leather opera gloves.  The

room, which had been large enough to take a bound thirteen year old

was now barely big enough for Kitten to lie down it.  She was gagged

with a large leather pad gag of Doc's patented design, her ankles

fastened to a spreader.  I couldn't see her hands but figured they

were bound behind her.  A length of white cotton rope had been used as

a crotch strap wrapped once around her waist then passing between her

legs pushing the leather panties deep into her damp twat.  I noticed

the small movement of the knots she'd tied as they teased her clit

through the panties, the other end of the strap was probably tied to

her wrist in some way.  The whole thing looked frustrating, I doubted

that she could ever get off on her own.



"She did it herself a few hours back," Doc said, "I think it's her way

to get you to fuck her.  I'll go out and see to that girl of yours.

You'll find the keys on the small table, a condom too.  Please use it

Charles old man, not that I don't trust you but remember you are

peeing in the well I drink from."



Kitten's eyes twinkled, she'd been leading me on for months, cock

teasing me until I could think of nothing else.  Doc ran an open house

policy.  The few of us in direct contact with him had almost unlimited

access to the slave pens.  The only exceptions tended to be if a

client specified that they wanted exclusive use or if sex would

somehow interfere with training.  Other than that any girl in the

place

was fair game.



Except for Kitten.  As part of her strange status Kitten only fucked

the men Kitten wanted to fuck.  Oh I have no doubt that Doc could

order her to do it, after all she was still a slave, but I doubted he

ever would.  So Kitten had played with me for the last few months and

this was the payoff.  I couldn't see the bondage angle though.  Doc

keeps all his girls bound and gagged as a security measure, and all of

his slaves have been fucked in bondage at least once.  Kitten was the

exception though so I could only figure that this kink was entirely of

her own choosing.



By now I'd got my pants off and was trying with trembling hand to roll

on the condom.  Kitten just watched amused, tugging occasionally on

the crotch strap to keep things cooking.  At last I was ready.  I used

a knife to cut the cord above her snatch and slowly pulled the strings

to release the bikini briefs.  Kitten moaned as I removed the panties;

Doc's gags are very effective and I doubted she would get much louder.

She trembled with anticipation and the overpowering smell of her sex

hit me making my rubber coated cock swell even more.  I felt I would

have to start soon or pass out so I put my cock on the entrance of her

womb and pushed.  She gave a muffled squeal.  Even though she was well

lubricated she was impossibly tight.  I paused, concerned that I may

have hurt her.  I heard the spreader drag for a second as she adjusted

her position.  Then she thrust up engulfing me in a tight warmness.

Her muffled scream sounding surprisingly loud in the tight confines of

the basket.  She thrust again and I finally got the point.  I started

fucking her in earnest feeling her muscles at they grasped my cock and

pulled me deeper inside.  The tightness was incredible it was almost

as if we were joined at the waist.  I felt her orgasm building deep

inside her body feeling it wash over my buried cock like a tidal wave.

She came and her hot cunt sucked deeply on my cock, pumping, draining

me dry as I seemed to cum for hour after hour.



I fell back feeling relieved I still had some body fluids left and

wondering for some strange reason if Mi Lin knew what had happened, as

if a woman can somehow know when she's suddenly no longer "the best."



I managed to stagger to my feet and get the keys, one for the

spreader, one for the cuffs and one for the gag.  I freed her slowly

allowing myself the opportunity to tease her bound body before finally

letting her go.  I left the gag 'til last so that I could remove it

when she was standing.  I pulled the mouthpiece free.



She licked her lips.  "Hi Master Charlie," She said, voice hoarse and

sexy.



"Hi Kitten."



I didn't know what else to say.  It was pointless asking if it was

good for her, the volume of her cries despite Doc's special gag had

proved that.  It was pointless to say that I loved her because she

belonged to someone else, literally.  In the end Doc interrupted the

moment.



The door opened and in staggered Maria.  she "looked" around the room

with her blindfolded face.  Her gag and the bonds around her upper

body were still as before and swatches of cut duct tape still adhered

to her jeans.  She was joined a second later by Beth.  Doc had removed

the leg bindings and the sleep mask for some reason. She stood there

looking oddly normal save for her taped eyes.



Kitten recovered the bikini briefs and I put on my pants.



Doc appeared behind the two girls and pushed Maria forward.  The

helpless girl staggered and almost fell making a little mewing sound

behind her gag.



"Ah Kitten, all finished are we?  Good girl.  Now take this one down

and start processing her straight away.  I want a full workup,

virginal swabs, urine test and a blood sample for the HIV test."



Kitten sighed, from bondage babe to private nurse in a few minutes.

She flashed me a smile then grabbing Maria's arm she started to pull

her towards the hidden dungeon door.



Doc pointed at Beth's concealed gag.  "Not still doing this are you.

It's going to get you caught one of these days."



"I think it's pretty good myself.  Squeeze a nipple if you don't

believe me."



Doc shook his head, "I have no doubt that the gag is effective and I

agree that it isn't easily noticeable but the fact remains that while

a slave is in public view she has too many opportunities to draw

attention to herself."



"First up, I only use it at night and even then only for short trips.

Second the alternative was to put her on the back seat.  I accept that

there is less chance of her being seen but if someone does see a girl

bound and gagged in the back of your car they *will* notice."



"And if you're stopped?" He persisted.



"If she's tied up in the back it's all over anyway!  This way I just

show her the gun and make it clear that if she draws attention to

herself the cop dies.  In poor light you can't easily notice it even

close up."



Doc shook his head, I don't think he'll ever be convinced.



"This is the one you want processed?" he said.



I nodded.



"How much?"



"Full treatment, the works."



"Expensive!"



"So your offer was only good for a six week fuck toy?"  I asked

innocently.



He scowled, "Full treatment it is then."  He reached over and pulled

off the wig letting Beth's natural blonde hair cascade down.

"Isn't.......?"  he began.  I put a finger to his lips silencing him.

Beth "looked" around disorientated and scared.



"We had better get Kitten up here to process this one," Doc said.



I shook my head.  "I want to save the uniform," I said, "That 

means we need to actually strip her rather than just cutting the 

clothes off. Kitten can't manage that on her own."



Doc smiled, "Never underestimate Kitten, Charles.  She's far more

talented than you can imagine."



We took Beth down to a dungeon room and stripped her ourselves.

She struggled of course but still blindfolded and gagged she was too

disorientated to put up a spirited resistance.  I showed Doc the

special solvent solution that allowed the hidden gag to be removed and

even he had to admit it was ingenious.  When we were finished Beth

hung from the ceiling, arms and legs separated by spreaders,

blindfolded with a conventional leather blindfold and chewing happily

on one of Doc's gags.



Satisfied that she was ready for Kitten we headed off in search of

Maria.



Doc smiled, "Charles old man I must confess I never realized you were

so ruthless.  You can't take the mother so you take the daughter?  I

am right?  Beth is Jane's daughter?"



I nodded, "You can imagine my reaction, and tonight of all nights.  I

didn't realize until she took her jacket off and I saw her in the full

uniform.  I mean it's been four years since I last checked up on Jane,

Beth was just a little kid then.  You must see why I took her, it

seemed like fate.  I can't imagine what Jane Walters daughter would be

doing hitching to Worcester.  It was so bizarre, so perfect....."



Kitten appeared in the corridor.  "I think I can answer some of your

questions, if you're interested?"



We walked into another dungeon area to find Maria hanging naked 

From the roof.  She was bound identically to her friend with 

blindfold, gag and spreaders. Over the years Doc had developed a set 

of standard practices. Binding the girls like this allowed for a full 

medical exam with minimal fuss.  Kitten gave Doc a clipboard and

pointed to some results.  "HIV and micro bacteriology will have to

wait of course, but this bitch is definitely pregnant."



I watched Maria stiffen.



Doc checked the clipboard, "You checked?"

Kitten shrugged, "Twice, she's either pregnant or has some form of

ovarian cyst.  Given her age the later seems unlikely."



I looked at Kitten amazed.



Doc noticed the look, "Come now Charles you shouldn't be that

surprised.  Surely you didn't think I'd developed the technology just 

to have an endless supply of willing pussy?"



In fact I *had* thought that but I kept silent for now.  



"The same techniques I use to make a sex slave in two months can make

a pretty good doctor in a couple of years."



"Pretty good?" Kitten said, "You know my grade point average."



"Yes my dear but it doesn't count unless you actually graduate medical



school."



 Kitten pouted and stormed back towards Maria.



I watched her go amazed.



Doc bent over and whispered conspiratorially, "Told you not to

underestimate her....."



Kitten removed Maria's gag.  "Ok you bitch who got you up the spout."



Maria seemed confused.



"Up the spout?" I whispered to Doc.



"Pregnant.  I'm afraid too many years living with an Englishman has

played havoc with Kitten's idioms."



"Let me go you bitch!" Maria screamed. I saw Kitten stiffen.



Kitten tutted, "Wrong answer and wrong name.  You are the *bitch*. You

will call me *mistress* or by God I'll make you suffer!"



I felt my blood run cold.



"May I suggest that we adjourn off to the snug for a whisky?"  Doc

suggested.  "I get the feeling things are about to get a little

unpleasant.  I let Kitten do most of the discipline these days because

quite frankly she has a certain talent for it."



"Please stay," Kitten said, "This really won't take a second."



She turned and grabbed Maria's nipple twisting viscously. 

Bringing her head close she hissed in Maria ear in a voice so cold and



viscous I found myself with the chills again.  "Hungry bitch?  Arms

getting a little tired?  I'm the one who decides when you come down.

*I* say when or if you eat.  So tell me slave what do you say?"



She gave another twist and Maria's will dissolved.



"S...sorry." 



I smiled.  It wasn't easy for a St.  Mary's girl to apologize, that

isn't the way they are brought up, but Maria was a realist and

survival meant not messing with Kitten.



"Sorry what?" Kitten asked.



"Sorry Mistress."



"Good girl!"  Kitten said.  She turned and smiled.  "See that didn't

take long did it."  Turning back to Maria she gently massaged the 

injured nipple "So tell us about how you got yourself pregnant."



Even with half her face covered by a blindfold Maria looked sheepish.

"Carl....  a .. a boy who works on the grounds.  We took precautions I

bought him condoms and hid them.  There must have been a defect."  She

slumped down miserable.



Then I suddenly realized, "You were going to Worcester for an abortion

weren't you??"



She nodded and sniffed, "One of the girls knew of a guy.  We couldn't

use a legal clinic, they have to take your name...  I'd have to have

my parent's approval....  They'd have to know.  We thought using one

outside of town was better but we didn't have transport."



"And Beth," I asked.



"The girls said someone would have to come with me, in case there

were problems.  They drew straws......"



And suddenly a thousand to one shot became ten thousand to

one.........



I cleared my throat, "This guy you were going to see, what was his

address?"  A plan had started to form in my mind, a way to shift 

suspicion away from here and back towards Worcester.



"In my jeans pocket....."



Kitten had cut the jeans off with a knife but fortunately the pockets

were intact.  Kitten reached down and picked up the remains working

her was through the pockets methodically.  Finally she found a piece

of paper which she handed to Doc who read it and winced.



"My dear young lady I know that things may seem quite desperate for

you now but I can assure you that you've had a fortunate escape.  This

man is a scoundrel, a quack and a butcher!  I shudder to think what

would have befallen you at his hands."



Maria "looked" up. "Really?" She asked weakly.



"Really," Doc said firmly, "Kitten, help our young mother down and

find her a nice private cell away from the others.  Minimal bonds, no

gag and double rations.  She is eating for two after all."



"Two?" Maria whispered.



"Yes my dear I think we will let you come to term on this one.  Do not

fear both myself and Mistress Kitten  are well qualified, you will

get the best in private care."



"B...but I don't want the baby."



Doc smiled, "No but we do.  Now hurry along Kitten dear and do make

sure that our mother to be is nice and warm."



I watched as Kitten dragged the still reluctant Maria away.  "*You*

want the baby?"  I asked.



"Oh yes," Doc said, "Good healthy white baby can easily pull in twenty

thousand if you can find the right adoptive parents.  That's a tidy

profit on nine months room and board.  Further it will establish Maria

 as having a good reproductive track record.  There are societies

were that is a highly valued property in a slave."



"You're a bastard you know."



Doc smiled, "And your point is?  Anyway, while we're here I may as 

well introduce you to your cargo."



We wondered through the pens.  Doc's place was built to handle twenty

girls or more, but that had been in the sixties when there had been an

almost infinite number of Flower Children to choose from and HIV was a

far off nightmare.  These days he keeps perhaps ten at a time, a

number he and Kitten can handle easily between them.  The corridors

are always quiet, Doc keeps his girls bound and gagged at all times to

"discourage mischief".  I must admit it works.  It's hard for the

girls to plan a mutiny when they can't talk to one another.



We stopped at a cell occupied by two girls.  Unlike the occupants of

some of the other cells these two wore clothes.  The older woman 

was in her mid thirties with long brown hair and dark brown eyes.  She

was dressed in a fairly expensive female business suit complete with

stockings and sensible pumps.  She mumbled something into her gag and

tried to move forward.  The steel collar around her neck stopped her

getting any further.  Doc pointed to her.  "That's the one we were

talking about," he said, "Her name's Myra."  "This one," He said

pointing to the younger blonde girl, "Used to be called Joanne but

these days we call her JoJo."



JoJo was dressed in the most incredible outfit I'd ever seem. A latex 

lace up basque, latex thigh high five inch heeled boots and shiny

latex gloves.



"This is their outfit for the party, we kept them in it after today's

practice so that they can give you a demonstration."  He handed me a

key and nodded towards Myra then started to unfasten JoJo.



"Right ladies go to work."



Myra sat as if she was at a desk.  A pair of glasses had appeared from

somewhere and she sat pantomiming reading papers.  Pausing she pressed

a button on an invisible intercom.



"JoJo come in here please."



JoJo flounced over. There was something in the way she moved, in the 

vacant look in her eyes that told me she was a six week special.  Doc

had broken her, destroying completely the woman she used to be and

programming the husk as a simple sex toy.  I could see how Myra could

be a problem, there was still a flicker of self awareness behind those

brown eyes but for JoJo it was all over.  All she could wish for now

was a kind master and an easy life.  It was unlikely she'd have

either.



"JoJo!  Fine personal assistant you are I was looking through these

accounts and I've found a problem."



"Really miss what's wrong?" Even her voice lacked any personality.



"There's still money in them you little bitch! Why do I employ you!"



JoJo squirmed pushing her latex covered cleavage in the older woman's

face.  "I dunno.  Because I lick slit good?"



Myra stood up threw off her jacket and the glasses and then Doc

pressed a button and the music started.  I'd seen lesbian displays

before, most erotic dance shows have at least one if they can get away

with it.  Most are quiet boring as you soon get the feeling that the

girls are just play acting.  This was different, it had an energy and

rhythm about it that was unmatched in my experience.  Each woman

latched on to the other, licking, fingering, teasing in time to the

music.  Methodically they stripped each other, though in fact Myra 

ended up taking the most off. Underneath blouse and skirt was a latex 

top and a pair of matching bikini briefs. This left both women dressed

almost identically at which point the lesbian foreplay became 

more spirited. There was a strange urgency to it all as each woman 

tried desperately to bring the other off.  I looked at JoJo, the

vacant look had been replaced by a desperate unearthly hunger.  I saw

it's reflection in Myra's eyes but I also saw something more, a

horror, self loathing and disgust.  It hovered just below the surface

suppressed by Doc's conditioning but it was there.  Somewhere the real

Myra was aware of what she was doing, aware but unable to stop.  Then

suddenly JoJo came, and moments later Myra followed her with a

screaming mind stunning orgasm that left her twitching on the floor.

I helped her up.  The vacant look had crept into her eyes as if the

orgasm had somehow crushed the last vestige of her personality.  She

didn't struggle as I rebound her and shoved the gag back into her limp

mouth.



We went back upstairs in silence.



"What was that Doc?  What have we got ourselves into?"



"That was one hundred percent what the client ordered," Doc said

defensively.  "He even scripted it and chose the music.  You see there

is a gimmick.  I've made it so that each woman has an orgasm that is

perhaps a tenth of it's usual potency.  Except, if she cums just

after another woman then it's more like ten *times* the usual 

potency."



"So each tries to make the other cum first!"



"Right!  If you cum first you get a little tremble.  Cum second and

the world explodes."



"So Myra won just now."



Doc smiled, "She usually does, one of the advantages of not having

been broken yet.  The whole setup was the client's idea he just asked

if it was possible."

 

"But why?"



Doc handed me a whisky, "Myra worked for a major Manhattan bank in

their foreign trading desk.  Quite senior, a VP I believe.  Joanne was

her PA.  Our client was another VP who's department used the Foreign

Desk a lot.  He started to notice some irregularities which at first

he put down to some over ambitious trading.  Gradually though he

started to find evidence of a widespread securities fraud being run

from somewhere inside Myra's department.  As was common procedure at

the bank he approached the board in Myra's absence and was ordered to

investigate fully.  One weekend he and some of his people entered

Myra's departmental records and started to do an audit."



I could see where this was going, "And the culprit turned out to be

Myra.."



"Exactly!  She had embezzled several million dollars in the past three

years and he was able to prove it.  He called her in and asked for an

explanation and she just laughed in his face.  Told him not to be a

stupid little boy, that they couldn't go to law because after Barrings

and that Tokyo scandal any publicity would bring down the bank.  She

even threatened to go public herself if he pushed it.  She handed him

her resignation and just left laughing at him as she went and taking

Joanne with her."



"So he hired you to get revenge."



"In a way," Doc said, "You were in London that week so Martin and Ray

picked up our two young friends.  The bank has managed to bury the

loss through some careful accounting.  The office has a tradition of

going out to a cabaret evening once a year. This year our man will 

provide the entertainment."



"How's he going to explain it?" I asked puzzled.



"He'll claim that Myra agreed to do it in exchange for not being sued 

for breach of contract."



"Seems a little thin," I said, "If I'd stolen a few million I'm sure 

I could find a better way out"



Doc shrugged. "Ultimately it doesn't really mater," Doc said, "He'll 

get his few minutes of revenge and the public humiliation of Myra and 

he'll be happy. Let him explain it."



I wasn't satisfied but I let is ride.



"Anyway the party is tomorrow night in a club in Manhattan." Doc said,



"You will take them to the show and bring them back here afterwards." 



I confess I didn't like it and I told him so but I think he felt I was

overplaying things as a bargaining ploy. In the end we agreed on a 

price.



Doc paused.  "By the way Charles, in nine months it will be Christmas

I believe."



"About then." I agreed.



"Lets have a party of our own then!  Maria will be having her baby and

in nine months I can turn your Beth into the most perfect slave you'll

ever see!"



"Sounds good," I said standing, "But right now I need to get some

sleep if I'm driving tomorrow."



I headed down to the dungeon to say goodnight to Kitten. That look in 

Myra's eye still bothered me. I had a friend who worked one summer in

a slaughter house. He had no problems "processing" hundreds of cows a 

week, hell he even joked about it. Then one day he just upped and 

left. When I asked him why he told me about an accident they'd

had, of a cow that had somehow survived the killer and how he'd

watched it die in agony fully aware of what was going on. 



Usually I didn't think about those we processed, it was quick and 

simple and there seemed to be little pain. Myra was different. We were

slowly destroying her and like that poor cow she was aware of what we 

were doing to her. I shuddered.



Kitten was in the dungeon with Beth. The girl's position had hardly 

changed since I left her though her shaved cunt showed that Kitten had

been busy. Slaves have no sexual contact until the results of the 

health checks came back, but of course this didn't include mechanical 

items. When I arrived Kitten was just about to fit Beth with a large 

vibrator. Not wanting to interfere I waited until Kitten had finished.



Kitten looked up, "Slave, your *master* is here to see you." She 

reached down and switched the device on. Beth moaned behind her gag.



"He gives you this gift of pleasure in recognition of your obedience,"

Kitten intoned, "And the gift of pain if you disobey." Beth's hips 

quaked as she tried to get a better position and her moans increased

in 

volume.



Kitten walked over. "Come to see how she's coming along," She asked

lightly.



"Actually I came to see you."



"Doc told you then?"



"Told me what?"



"That I'm to supervise the processing of your slave?"



"You?"



"Yes *me* You haven't been here much master, I do most of the training

these days."



So Doc hadn't been kidding when he'd called her his apprentice......



"It's about that girl Myra. Do you know who the client is?"



She shook her head.  "Doc works on a need to know basis and I didn't

*need* to know.  Even if I did I couldn't tell you.

Compartmentalization is essential if our security is to be 

maintained."



"The intermediary, you must know *him*."



"Master please, you know I can't say so why ask?"



"Kitten!"



She rolled her eyes, "Ok, but if I end up scrubbing kitchen floors

naked again

*you* will be responsible." She sighed, "It's Sam Turner."



I kissed her and we made love then and there. Above us and in a world 

of her own  Beth swung backwards and forwards, moaning

into her gag and thrusting her hips as she chased that illusive 

orgasm.





....................................................................................................







From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:11 1997

From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage

Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap2 "New Beginnings and Loose Ends" (M/ffff B&D, NC, Adventure)

Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:11 GMT

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************************************************************

                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER

                                     ===================



The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and

has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet.  If it

is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the

author.



All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons

living or dead is purely coincidental.  The author does not

necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this

story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.



Quin 1997

tmquin@ibm.net

************************************************************



                            Doc's Orders  by Quin

                            ======================



Chapter 2  "New Beginnings and Loose Ends"

=====================================



Next morning I woke refreshed.  I'd gone to bed with the germ of an

idea that had slowly blossomed into a fully fledged plan.  I'd been up

at six thirty and in search of Kitten.  I had no doubt that she would

be up.  Slaving is like any other form of animal husbandry, up at

dawn, down at dusk.



She was in the kitchen having breakfast.  The leather outfit of last

night replaced by a cute latex French maid's outfit which was probably

for my benefit.  It seemed the teasing was on again.  She was reading

a book but when she saw I was up she quickly put it down and headed

for the stove.



"Sunny side up!  Right Master?"



I nodded, the Marines had got me used to the idea of getting up early

but at some primal level my body still didn't like it.  She passed me

a large mug of coffee and started assembling breakfast.  I looked at

the book "The BIG book of girls names."  It had a cute picture of a

woman playing with a baby on the cover.



"Getting a little ahead of yourself aren't we," I asked, "She may have

a boy."



"I'm sorry Master?"



"I was saying, your just a little ahead of yourself with Maria's

baby," I said holding up the book.



"Oh, that's not for the baby, " She said putting a large plate of

pancakes on the table, "That's for me."



"You?"



"Yes, I'm choosing my new name.  At the moment I can't decide between

Caitlin and Kathryn.  I think Caitlin sounds better but it has all

those beach bunny, 90210 connotations.  Kathryn's more stuffy but hey,

she's s Starfleet Captain."



"I'm sorry?"  I said and I was, genuinely sorry that I'd even started

this conversation.



"Doc asked me if I wanted a new name."



"Why?" I said confused.



She arched her back and sucked her stomach in.  Her breasts were

forced out, straining against the imprisoning latex.  Suddenly I was

hard again.



"If you haven't noticed Master," She purred, "I'm hardly a kitten

anymore."



Now that she mentioned it I realized she was right.  I mean I know she

had grown up, I'd fucked her for God sake, but in my mind there were

two Kitten's, the sex vixen and the thirteen year old girl in that

freezing alley.  Finding that they were the same person after all

would take some adjustment.  Perhaps a new name wasn't such a bad

idea.



"What was the second one I asked?"



"Kathryn? It's with a *y*.  Do you like it?"



"Sorry?  Err no, not especially," I said, "Just didn't hear it right.

What are the others."



She ran through a whole list and it didn't take me long to see the

pattern.



"Do all these names shorten to Kat?"



"I thought I'd stick with the feline motif, " She said.



"Then why not just stick with Kat?"



She wrinkled her nose, "It's a little common don't you think?  Bit too

much trailer trash?"



I gave up. "Doc tells me you handle discipline these days?"



"Ah, ah."



"How good are you at torture?"



"For pleasure or punishment?"  She asked handing me a bottle of maple

syrup.



"There's a difference?" I asked.



"There is if you do it properly Master," She said suggestively.



"I need to get some information from Beth.  I figure she's either

going to hold out on us or may tell us the wrong thing completely."



"Like what?"



"Bank card number."  I said as I took my first bite of pancake.  Doc

was an excellent cook with exceptionally high standards.  It came as

no surprise that this was one of the first things he'd taught his

young house slave.  Kitten's pancakes were excellent, equal to the

best you could find in the finest restaurant in the world.



"Are they good Master?" She asked innocently.



Now she was teasing me with food.  I ignored the obvious trolling for

complements.  "About those numbers."



 She wrinkled her nose, "Piece of cake. Should take about an hour."



I frowned.  I'd expected Beth to be more resilient than that.  Of

course the money wasn't much good to her now but it would be a while

before she accepted that.  I realized that painful torture could open

anyone's lips, I knew that better than anybody, but Doc's treatment

was almost painless and the kind of "persuasion" necessary would go

against that principle.



"An hour?"



"Probably less," Kitten said returning to the stove.



I shook my head.  "Don't want to question your professional opinion,"

I said, mouth full of pancake, "But I know this kind of girl.  Even if

you took a whip to her she's too stupid to know when to give up.."



"An hour," she insisted, "*Tops.*" 



I shook my head.



"If you don't believe me we could have a small wager...."



I laughed, "What do you have to wager?"



Kitten smiled and bent over trusting her latex covered toosh at my

face.  She brought a gloved finger up to her mouth and looked at me

over her shoulder with a confused expression on her face.  It was an

almost perfect reproduction of a fifties cheesecake shot.  



"Gee Master," She said wiggling her ass, "I can't think."



"Ok, I said, "You made your point. What do you want in return?"



She smiled a sinister little smile.  "Personally I've always liked the

idea of a boy toy," She said, "A male slave of my very own."



I nearly choked on my coffee, "You can't be serious?"



"Not so sure of your Beth after all?"  Kitten taunted, "Or just not

man enough to take the risk?"



I found myself flushed.  This shouldn't be happening, *SHE* was the

slave here.  The idea of being Kitten's slave did not appeal at all,

I'm too dominant for that, but I'm too macho to back down.



"No drugs?" I asked.



She gave me a pained look like I'd just asked her to heat up a TV

dinner.



"No drugs," she said.



Beth was a Saint Mary's girl, a bitch of the first order.  I doubted

she'd be smart enough to give up that number in an hour if her life

literally depended on it.



"Deal," I said, "Get the number in less than an hour and I'm yours for

*ONE* night."



Kitten gave an evil feline grin, "No restrictions?"



"No restrictions," I agreed, "As long as when you *LOSE* there are no

restrictions while you're mine."



She smiled.  "Agreed," She said, dumping ham, eggs and waffles on a

plate in front of me, " Now eat up and lets go get our pigeon."



Needless to say the breakfast was excellent.  We ate in silence but

Kitten's body language told me that she was supremely confident.  I

began to feel nervous.



Afterwards we headed down to the dungeons.  Doc had explained the

history of the place to me once.  It had been built in the fifties as

some kind of Government survival shelter.  The idea was that certain

key members of the Massachusetts State legislator would hide here in

time of war.  Needless to say it was secret, not only to hide it from

the Russians but also to prevent the possibility of the local people

trying to break in during an alert.  In '62 the place got it's first

tryout during the Cuban Missile Crisis and was found to be too small

for all the politicians and their hangers on and most importantly too

hard to get to.  The Federal Government started building a new shelter

north of Boston and this one was earmarked to be destroyed.  Somehow

in the general confusion following the Kennedy assassination it was

missed.  Doc bought it from the government as an undeveloped parcel of

land in '65 and with a group of slaves built the house and the complex

we know today.



We walked down the corridors listening to the muffled sounds of the

slaves in their cells.  The design of the cells was a little unusual

and reflected some of Doc's thinking about the training of slaves.

For a start each cell had a section of steel bars about two feet wide

and going floor to ceiling just to the right of the door.  This allows

air and sounds in from the corridors and lets the slaves see the

comings and goings throughout the day.  As the bars were always to the

right of the doors and as the slaves are chained to their bunks it

isn't possible for a slave to look out into another's cell.  The

slaves remain gagged so it isn't possible for them to communicate but

they can hear each others sounds and know that they are not alone.

Doc claims this greatly speeds up the breaking of a slave because they

share each others despair without the benefits of any camaraderie.

The slave starts to thinking that if all these others can't escape

what chance does she stand, sees the naked, gagged women being dragged

past her cell to an uncertain fate.  Eventually it overwhelms her.



By now we had arrived outside Beth's cell.  Though the cells are

designed for double occupancy, Doc always gives a new recruit single

quarters for the first few days.  They tend to be noisy and disruptive

and Doc doesn't think it fair to trouble another slave with their

tantrums.  The only exceptions tend to be if girls are recruited

together or are being supplied to the same master.  If Maria hadn't

been pregnant it was likely she would have been Beth's cellmate.



Kitten picked up a clipboard from beside the door and checked the

contents.



"Some of the paperwork hasn't been done," She said, "Want to do it

now?"



I reached for the clipboard but she pulled it back.  "In there," she

said with a smile.



As we entered the cell Beth was struggling to stand.  I had known

immediately what to expect, Doc had a standard uniform for slaves that

almost all of them wore.  I watched her as she struggled and took in

the details.



It started with high heeled ankle boots.  They consisted of a wooden

sole attached to a solid platform heel.  The uppers were made of

strong black leather, like the stuff they use to make army boots.  The

uppers ran from the toes to a broad leather strap circling the ankle.

The strap was really a type of cuff and was fastened with a padlock

which effectively made it impossible to remove the boots.  A couple of

spare D rings on the cuffs allowed for additional restraint.  At the

moment a short length of chain was clipped between them hobbling

Beth's ankles.  The whole look was workmanlike and functional if a

little ugly.  The boots were battered and old, countless slaves had

worn them through the years and there were probably dozens more in

their future.  However they served a useful purpose, not only did they

get the slave used to walking in heels they also made escape more

difficult.  As they were locked in place an escaping slave couldn't

discard them easily.  Doc claims that the tendons in the back of the

leg starts to shrink if a girl wears heels too long.  While that makes

it easier for her to walk in them it effectively means that flats

become uncomfortable.  In nine months Beth will have no choice than to

be a high heeled slut.



The rest of Beth's "outfit" was brief.  Around her waist she wore a

chastity belt arrangement.  This was basically two wide leather

straps.  One was fastened tightly around her waist, the other was

attached to the first at the front and back passing between her legs

on the way.  A couple of simple locks held everything in place and

ensured it couldn't be removed.  It was possible to unlock the crotch

strap separately and so gain access to her twat.  At cunt level the

crotch strap had a small metal plate that allowed for various

attachments.  At the moment it was being used to hold a vibrating

dildo deep in her twat.  I smiled, I hoped she liked it because

something, organic or otherwise, would fill her cunt every second of

her time here.  It was yet another of Doc's training aids.  He says it

educates the slave that her natural condition is to have a cock inside

her.  He claims that after processing his slaves no longer feel

comfortable without something in there.  Beth's arms were covered in a

pair of black latex opera gloves that reached up to just above her

elbows.  Doc likes gloves and his conditioning technique ensures that

even after they leave the girls continue to wear them even though

today they appear a little anachronistic.  Doc says it helps reduce

the chance of a stray fingerprint being found.  Two leather cuffs on

Beth's wrists were fastened to the belt locking her arms by her sides.

A further clincher by her elbows had the very desirable side effect of

thrusting her wonderful breasts outwards.  Like the other slaves she

was naked above the waist allowing easy access to h er charms.



By now she had struggled to her feet and stood looking at me with such

hatred in her young eyes.  Bound as she was there was nothing she

could *DO* about it but I was still glad that the metal collar around

her neck kept her chained to the wall near her bunk.  She tried to say

something, but one of Doc's leather pad gags had been fastened over

her mouth.  On Beth the thing seemed huge extending from her chin to

her cheeks.  In fact a little dimple had been cut into it for her

nose.  Like the belt it had a removable section at the front that

allowed for the fitting of various attachments.  Something was stuffed

into her mouth at the moment and I knew immediately that it was a

penis gag, to get her used to the feeling of a cock in that pretty

young mouth.



I turned to find Kitten waiting.



"Shall we begin?"  she asked looking at me amused.  "These are

questions about your requirements.  Usually these are passed from the

customer by our agent but as you're here."



"Oh, err yes," I said, aware of my huge hardon.



"Slave's name?"  She asked, "We have her here as Beth.  Do you want to

change it?"



It was usual for a master to give his slave a new name.  It was as

much for security as anything.  In all the years of Doc's operation

not a single slave had been recognized by someone who knew her in her

former life.  Most of this is to be expected, slaves are rarely placed

near to where they were recruited, but the numbers involved mean that

logically there must have been some near misses.  I mean, if you went

into a skin joint and the dancer looked like that pretty chick you sat

behind in high school you may start wondering.  Of course chances are

you'd probably think it's a coincidence, that they only look similar,

still if she had the same name you may get curious....



"I haven't decided yet," I said.  Then suddenly I knew.  "Jane," I

said, "Her name is Jane."



"Slave Jane," Kitten repeated making a note on the clipboard.  "Right.

Now color.  She's blonde at the moment.  You want her brunette or

redhead??"



"No."



"Didn't think so," She said, "But we still have to ask.  Now breasts,

we can enlarge them if you want but Doc asked me to remind you that

his offer only covers our costs.  Cosmetic surgery and doctors fees

are extra."



I snorted, "After he gets Maria and that valuable baby for free?"



"That's a management decision," Kitten said, "You'll have to take it

up with Doc."



I reached forward to feel Beth's tits.  She squealed into the gag and

started to back up.  Quick as a flash a crop appeared in Kitten's hand

and she brought it down hard on one of Beth's exposed nipples.  The

squeal became a full fledged scream though the gag reduced it to

almost nothing.



"Hold still," Kitten hissed, "This man is you new owner.  He has every

right to inspect his property.  Now stand up straight legs apart.

Move again and I'll be forced to discipline you."



Beth stood as directed sobbing piteously.  She stiffened but didn't

resist as I gently caressed her naked breasts.  I felt a slight

tremble as my hand lingered and her nipples started to harden.  Just

like her mother I thought, far too sensitive for her own good.



"I think these are fine," I said, "I'm not sure about the nose

though."  The only real difference between Beth and her mother at this

age was the shape of the nose.  Jane's had been strong and straight

Beth's was more of a button affair.  I wondered if it was even

possible to have your nose enlarged.



Kitten shook her head, "I'm afraid she's still a little young for

that.  Plastic surgery while the features of the face aren't fully

mature is a little risky.  Perhaps in a year?"



I nodded.  Kitten reached down and unlocked Beth's crotch belt.  She

pulled the dildo free raising a groan from her helpless captive.



"Damp one," She commented.  "As you can see we've shaved her to our

usual pattern with a small tuft of hair for decoration.  Is this

acceptable or do you want more or less?  It's usual practice to

permanently denude all the shaved area for easy maintenance."



"All of it," I said, "Completely, permainently clean."



This raised a stifled noise from Beth.  She was of an age when she

could still remember it naked, were she considered pubic hair as some

mystical mark of her womanhood.  I reached down and ran my hand over

her smooth pubis.  I felt her stiffen but with hands strapped by her

side and mouth gagged she was helpless to stop me.  I stroked it

gently feeling the faint tremors as her hips shook.  In nine months

using electrolysis and hot wax this area would be permainently clear.

I looked into her eyes and saw her silent plea, if I removed it she

would be marked as a slut forever.  Every doctor, every lover would

know immediately.



"Yes," I said, "Loose it all."



Kittens gloved hand stroked Beth's belly.  "Of course we will put her

on a vigorous workout regime to get rid of the last of this puppy

fat."



That raised a muffled protest which Kitten chose to ignore.



"Final extra's. We have started heel training, is that acceptable?"

I nodded.



"Figure training, piercing, tattoos, special training?"



"No figure training," I said, "Silver rings in both nipples, navel,

clit hood."



Beth stiffened.



"I'd have to see the patterns for the tattoos.  I want the works on

the training, both male and female, dancing, oral, etiquette,

housekeeping, child care..."



Kitten scribbled furiously.  "We have nine months," She said, "Why not

sign her up for everything, it saves writing."



"Ok," I said, "May as well get Doc's money's worth.  Besides it

improves her resale value."



Nothing comes close to describing the look on Beth's face, the horror,

the shock.  To be talked of in the same way that someone might discuss

the options on a new car.  To have other people decide how your body

will look for the rest of your life.  I think she especially hated the

idea of the rings, her body activity, the wiggling and tugging of

bonds had increased markedly since that discussion.



Kitten handed me the clipboard.  "Sign," She said.



I took the clipboard, "I want to talk to her."



"Now?" Kitten asked.



"Now." I said and picked up the pen.



As I signed Kitten was reaching behind Beth's head to remove the gag.

Now would come the moment of truth.  I'd been a recruiter long enough

to know that this was when you found out what you'd got.  Almost by

definition Doc's recruits were city girls.  His "six week specials" we

recruited from the urban poor, most of his "recondition women" worked

in business or came from good families.  As Doc's orders on local

hunting meant that we hardly ever operated even in Boston, New York

was actually our nearest major hunting ground.  The trip to Doc's at a

nice legal fifty involved at least one layover and at some stage the

gag had to come out so that they could drink.  How they reacted told

you a lot about how they'd take training.  The dumb ones start

screaming and carrying on, call you names, scream for help etc.  A few

quick slaps are usually needed to bring them back in line long enough

to feed and water them.  The smart ones say nothing.  They knew that

you wouldn't be doing this anywhere they had a chance of rescue, they

do nothing to provoke you, nothing that would risk you killing them.

The real smart ones talk quietly to you hoping to get you on their

side, I usually gag them again as soon as possible.



Beth's gag popped out and she almost immediately started swearing.



"Let me go you bitch," she demanded.  Kitten's eyes rolled, St.

Mary's girls seemed somewhat predictable.



Beth turned to me, "Fucking ass hole!  Should have realized you were a

prick."



Kitten smiled.  "We could cut her vocal cords?"  She offered, "It's

not part of the usual service but it is effective."



Beth stiffened, her reaction had been one hundred percent predictable,

exactly what a St.  Mary's girl spoilt and born to privilege would be

expected to do.  Now finally she realized her danger.



"Please let me go, mister. I won't tell anyone. Promise!"



I tried to look thoughtful, "What about Maria.  My friend wants her

baby so badly."



"You can have it," Beth offered, "I'm sure if you let us go she'll

give it to you."



"But that mean's we'll have to wait nine months."



She looked hopeful, "Let me go now and release Maria later.  I can

help you.  I can tell people she's changed her mind, run away...."



I was overwhelmed by her loyalty, just like her mother she used people

up and spat them out.  I decided it was time to tell her the truth.



"Your mother's maiden name was Walters wasn't it."



"Yes, but..."



"Jane Walters..."



Only then did she realize the significance, understood why she was

here.



"Oh god..."



"That's right slut, the woman I told you about the one who jilted me,

was your mother.  You know I really used to like the idea of making

your mother my slave, of bringing her up here and having Doc break her

for me.  Last night I realized something, I realized that all I wanted

from your mother could be done in three days.  I could pluck her off

the street take her to a cabin in the woods somewhere and take

everything I wanted in three days.  Then I could just bury her up

there.  You see it wouldn't be worth making her a slave.  She's what,

thirty seven now?  Loose pussy, sagging tits, why waste my time with

her.  The girl I really want is your mother as she was twenty years

ago, young pussy in her prime.  What do you have to say for yourself

*Jane*?"



"But I'm..."  She began.  I nodded to Kitten and the crop struck

nipple once again.



This time she did scream and immediately the muffled noises from the

other cells ceased.



"Let's try that again.  How are you *Jane*?"



"V...very good, sir."



"That's better, but I prefer *Master*."

I pushed the gag back into "Jane's" sobbing mouth and the conversation

was over.



Kitten knelt and gently pushed the dildo back into Beth's sopping

cunt.  The girl moaned, I wouldn't have expected her not to, and a

look of humiliation flashed through her blue-green eyes.  Kitten

looked up, "Now can we settle the other matter?  I don't want to rush

you but I have fifteen slaves to feed this morning."



I nodded and held Beth steady as Kitten released her collar and fitted

a nipple leash.  The leash was uncomfortable and Beth didn't like it.

Still, that was the price of slavery and once her nipples were clamped

she became much more manageable.



We led her towards one of the dungeon areas on the south side.  Beth

seemed a little stunned by it all, she'd been brought to her cell

blindfolded and so had little idea as to the scale of the place.  At

one time we had to stop while the door at the end of a corridor was

opened and I found Beth looking into a nearby cell.  Inside were two

girls, one white the other Asian, bound and gagged as Beth was.  The

length of the chains fastening them to their bunks seemed to have been

badly chosen because they could just reach each other.  The white girl

was bending over rubbing her leather gag against the Asian's exposed

nipples.  The Asian groaned into her own gag, her small body shaking a

little.  The white girl went further, drawing her long brown hair over

the Asian's belly and breasts to the other girl's obvious delight.

Eventually after some signal too subtle for me to see they switched

roles and the Asian started rubbing her gag against the white girl's

inner thigh.  Of course they couldn't get off, not wearing the

chastity belts anyway, to an extent they only worsened each others

torment..



I found the scene strangely erotic, two slaves taking what little

pleasure they could find.  Kitten looked disgusted, I figured the

chain would be shortened soon.



At length we reached the dungeon Kitten wanted.  I'd never been here

before as it was one of Doc's training areas.  It seemed very small

and was filled almost completely by a computerized console.  Kitten

dragged Jane to a door and removed the leash.  Then she did a

surprising thing opening the door she quickly freed the cuff from the

girl's left wrist and pushed her inside.



Slamming the door closed she hurried over to the console.  "Time

starts now!"  She said and pushed a button.



I watched the tiny TV monitor on the console with interest.  It showed

a fish eye view of the small room Beth had been pushed into.  The girl

seemed stunned but a second later it got worse.  The strobe light

wasn't fast, perhaps 10 times a second but is was bright.  Beth spent

a good few seconds trying to bring her free hand to her eyes.  Of

course with her elbows still clinched this proved impossible.  Then

she suddenly stiffened and her gloved hand tried to move to her ear

instead.



"Oops!  Forgot the sound," Kitten said, "This is what she's hearing at

the moment."  She pushed a button and from a tiny speaker a sound

emerged that was simply indescribable.  Something about it cut

straight through me putting every nerve on edge.  Seeing my reaction

Kitten mercifully turned it off and I was surprised to find that I'd

involuntarily moved perhaps three steps away from the console.  I

looked at the monitor, I had no doubt that the sound was much louder

inside.  Beth was pacing the walls like a caged animal, face contorted

above the gag.  Her free hand flapped around in a desperate attempt to

shield her senses from the onslaught.  This continued for about five

minutes by which stage the girl was almost catatonic.  Then it

stopped, on cue Kitten hit the button and the sound was back.  A small

panel had opened in the wall next to the door, a friendly female voice

obviously some kind of automated announcement said, "Sequence will

start again in ....ninety...  seconds.  Please enter security number

to open the door."  Beth staggered to panel and I could see a small

keypad inside.  She frantically started punching buttons whilst the

polite voice counted down.  Even when the count reached zero and the

awful sound started again she kept typing, tears rolling down her

face.  Eventually she was overwhelmed and just rolled up in a ball.

Then Kitten hit a button and the sound stopped.



" Your number is  110681," She said 



"Sounds like a date," I said.



"Probably is," Kitten said, "Why do you think banks went from four to

six digits?  The brain works by association, that's why some numbers

are easier to remember than others."



"How do we know it's the right number?"



"She entered that sequence fifteen times in two minutes, five of those

times was after the stimulus was reapplied.  We call this the

"Disorientation Chamber" I can assure you it's very difficult to think

in there.  The keypad is of the same type as used in most Auto

tellers.  The height angle and distance into the recess are also

exactly the same.  Unable to think she'll do whatever she would

normally do with a keypad of that type.  Still if you don't believe me

we can verify it at the bank."



She glanced at the clock, "Fifteen minutes is you'll agree, much less

than an hour."



I scowled, "You haven't proved it works yet."



"It will," She said, "Now we'd better get your girl."



Beth was too stunned to struggle, Kitten rebound her hand and we led

her back to the cell.  I had no doubt her fight would return but for

now she was drained.  I felt, perhaps a little twinge of pity for her

but it was soon swept away as I helped Kitten attend to the breakfasts

for the other slaves.



Maria seemed to be adjusting well.  By comparison to the others her

cell was a palace.  Obviously designed for single occupancy it had a

real bed, a small desk and a bookcase.  Admittedly most of the books

were sex manuals but it was still stimulation.  She was still chained

at the neck and her wrists were still fastened to a chastity belt but

I could tell from the way she moved that her cunt was empty.  She was

also ungagged and started asking questions.  Only a threat from Kitten

finally shut her up but I used the opportunity while she ate to ask

some questions of my own.  She was bowed and subservient.  Maria was

above all else a realist, she had seen the conditions that prevailed

for the other slaves, realized that only her unborn child separated

her fate from theirs.  She was most cooperative.



From her we discovered about the abortionist, who had recommended him,

who knew where they were going and how long those people were expected

to cover for them.  I confirmed there had been no one along that road

between the trucker dumping them there and my picking them up.  I

smiled.  Now confident that my plan would work I had Kitten free

Maria's off hand and passed her a book on child care.



"Good luck!" I said and left knowing I wouldn't see her again until

after the baby. 



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  .



"What do you think?"  Kitten asked.  I looked up and had to admit that

the effect was stunning.  In Beth's clothes Kitten looked the image of

a St Mary's girl.  The uniform fit her perfectly and though I hadn't

saved it for this purpose I was happy we hadn't cut it to pieces.



I nodded, "Try the whole thing on, the wig too."  I had to admit that

the thought of a street urchin dressed in the uniform of one of New

England's most exclusive academies held a little subversive thrill.

Yet good as she looked it the outfit all this would be for nothing if

she didn't look like Beth.



After feeding the slaves I'd recovered the girl's packs from my car.

Then, dressed in surgical kit to minimize the forensic evidence we had

carefully gone through the contents.  Inside Beth's we had found a

small purse containing a billfold and some makeup.  The money came to

about two hundred in small bills which I pocketed.  The bank card I

put away for later.  Maria had about six fifty on her, five hundred of

which we knew was the cost of the abortion.  This seemed a little

steep, though to be honest I didn't know what the going rate was.

Still, I expect that the guy adjusts his prices according to ability

to pay.



In Beth's pack we'd also found an "X Files" baseball cap, something

that would make our job a little easier.  We put the contents of the

packs into a number of large ziplocks bags.  The packs themselves

having been in contact with my car we carefully incinerated and placed

the ashes into a separate bag.



"Now what do you think?"  Kitten asked and I looked up slowly to take

in the full effect.  Sensible shoes and socks led in turn to plad

skirt, above that was the tight sweater.  Beth's leather jacket and

purse completed the outfit.  Kitten wore a pair of woolen gloves that

we'd found in Beth's pack.  As they would still allow the leaving of

fingerprints they were used to hide the surgical gloves underneath.

Finally, she was wearing a blonde wig of about the right length and

style.  As we had found no waterproof the addition of the baseball cap

to the outfit seemed reasonable.  I cast a critical eye over

everything.  Beth and Kitten didn't look much alike in the face, but

that didn't matter.  Height, weight and clothes carry many more clues

to identity than most of us would care to admit and from a distance I

felt she could probably fool anyone.



"Let's go." I said.



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. .



I drove the van slowly towards the town of Worcester MA. 



Doc had extensively landscaped around his house to hide the extent of

the underground complex.  The place now looked like your average New

England retirement cottage, an effect he had spent a lot of time and

money to achieve.  Unfortunately the large garage needed to maintain

the transport side of his business would look inappropriate.  This van

and a small car were the only vehicles he kept there and a small

industrial lot in Worcester served his business needs.



In the back JoJo and Myra shuffled uncomfortably in their bondage.

After a lot of discussion we had finally agreed that two trips to

Worcester were a waste of time.  As I had Kitten with me it would be

safe to take Doc's shipment along and secure them in the warehouse

until I was ready to leave.



"How's it going?" I shouted.



"They're a little restless but I think we'll survive," Kitten said,

"We have a soundproof storeroom round the back that we use as a

transit cell.  I think they'll be ok there."



I nodded.  I'd been to Doc's site in Worcester many times and I knew

we would be all right.



At last we turned into the courtyard of the lot and I pushed the

remote to open the loading doors.  Doc's business relies on cars and

vans more than most, you can hardly FexEx a slave to your customer.

We keep a variety of vehicles available so that we can more completely

match the environment in which we were working.  A Caddie on an

industrial site would draw attention but a delivery truck outside a

swish nightclub would do the same.  As a result we have a little of

everything and most of our vehicles have several identities depending

on which State they're in.  Recently Doc has been thinking about using

a small private plane for the long trips to the West Coast.  He's paid

for my pilot's license, even for a conversion to choppers but he's

still undecided.  Things as concrete and verifiable as a flight plan

tend make him nervous.



In addition to our agents some of whom do their own recruiting, we

have 6 recruiters/delivery personnel.  As far as I know I am the only

one who knows the final destination.  Most deliver to a staging area

like this and I will pick up the recruits from there.  This means that

these places always need some short term slave storage area.  In this

case in was a small room around the back marked "inventory".  It had a

solid steel door and thick walls making it almost completely

soundproof.  Putting the shipment away we headed out in another more

anonymous van.



Our back street abortionist was doing well for himself.  Maria's

address led to an older more affluent area of town were each house was

set apart in it's own grounds.  The houses were large and Victorian

and the neighbors seemed to keep to themselves.  I circled the area

checking for security systems and access to the back.  I was relieved

to see no cameras, though I suppose the guy was hardly likely to

incriminate himself by keeping tapes of comings and goings.  Still I

warned Kitten to be careful as I dropped her off in an alley a few

blocks away.  She was wearing a small wire, equipment we got from the

same people who supply the FBI.  Such things are often useful during

the surveillance of potential recruits.  As agreed Kitten would hang

around out front for a while as if undecided.  This would make sure

that our man's discrete neighbors got a good look at the uniform.

While this was going on I went around back finding a position where I

could watch the back door.  How many times had I done shit like this

in the service?  Too many and I was still nervous.  Finally I heard

Kitten say she was going in.



In the earpiece I could hear Kitten stammer out a few words of

explanation.  She had a friend who was in trouble, another friend had

recommended she come here.  A man's voice invited her in and we were

off.  I quickly scaled the fence and ran to the back.  This was one

time discrete neighbors were a bonus.  I'd been prepared to find the

back door locked but was relieved that is was open.



Kitten's orders were clear.  She should keep him talking as long as

possible while trying to avoid him getting too good a look at her

face.  I'm sure the guy has seen so many girls he probably couldn't

remember individual faces anyway.  Still, it helped sell the idea that

the girl didn't want to be recognized.



I headed down to the basement.  As I'd hoped the guy had an old coal

fueled boiler, I'd figured he'd need something like this to dispose of

the organic remains.  As Kitten started asking price and wanting to

know the details of what would be done and where, I was loading the

contents of the girl's packs into the furnace.  I finished off with

the ashes of the packs themselves.  No doubt this would seem odd to

any subsequent forensic examination but what did I care?  I spent some

time ensuring everything was well alight.  I figured in fifteen

minutes it would be gone leaving only the telltale residue and ashes.



I was at the back door when Kitten started to leave.  She would be

back soon with her friend, she said, could the doctor see her now?

The man agreed even offered to take her to her friend.  Kitten

politely refused saying the friend was nervous enough already.

Silently I slipped outside and vaulted the fence then made my way back

to the van.  As before Kitten hung around for a while after leaving.

I wanted all the neighbors to remember the blonde girl in that

distinctive plad skirt.



I smiled when Kitten finally slipped into the back of the van.



"Well," She asked, "How did it go?"



"Burning nicely," I said, "And the other thing?"



She held up a small evidence bag.  This morning it had contained

fibers from Maria's shredded clothes and hair brushings from both

girls, now it was empty.



"Sprinkled in area's of high traffic," she said proudly.  I smiled,

soon they would have been trailed all over the house.



Now it was time for the final moves.  I rejected the first two ATM's

as they were too modern but finally I found what I needed.  The ATM

accepted Beth's card and was old enough to have a poor camera.

Further it was within a few blocks of the abortionist.  I asked Kitten

if she was ready, the whole plan hinged on the next few minutes.



She nodded so finding another quiet alley I dropped her off and

waited.  These days all ATM's have camera's.  Most are discrete, you

don't have a lens stuck in your face when you make your transaction,

but they all have them.  Older machines hide them behind a plate just

above your head so that they look down at your face.  The newer

machines use CCD camera's or angled mirrors to look directly at you.

That was why we needed an older machine.  With baseball cap in place

and looking directly down the machine would not get a view of Kitten's

face.  The ten or so shots the machine would take would show a girl of

the right hair color, height and weight wearing the victim's clothes

and using the victim's PIN.  Just to be sure she would be using her

left hand which was consistent with Beth being left handed.  The

transaction would put her alive and well in Worcester sixteen hours

after the kidnapping and just four blocks away from the abortionist.



Kitten returned.



"Well?" 



She handed me the money and the receipt.  "Two hundred and fifty as

ordered."



"And you looked down all the time? 



She showed me a magazine. "I was reading."



"Good girl," I said, "Now hurry up and get changed back there."



By the time we pulled into the warehouse Kitten was back in more

Kittenish attire, leather boots short leather miniskirt and a silk

top.  We transferred the clothes and things back to Doc's van and then

collected the shipment.  In the two hours or so we'd been away neither

girl had budged a single bond.  Satisfied, I fed, watered and

toiletted them for the road.  Then I said good-bye to Kitten.



"I'm taking the Limo like we agreed."  I said, "Give me fifteen

minutes to get clear then head out."



"Oh slaaave," She sang. I stiffened and turned around.



Kitten smiled, "Don't forget our little wager....."



I flinched, which seemed to be exactly the reaction she wanted.  With

an almost childish glee she danced towards her van and I knew I was in

big trouble.  Still something about it bothered me.



"Hey Kitten, you got that number in 15 minutes."



"Yes, slave," She said with relish.



"So why say an hour, why not some shorter time?"



She smiled, "Because you're not a fool dear *SLAVE*.  I knew if I said

I could get it in fifteen minutes you'd realize there was a trick to

it . This way you thought there was a chance I'd fail and you'd get

your grubby little mitts on me.  It's a classic case of the little

head doing the thinking."  She frowned, "Anyway shouldn't you leave.

After all the sooner you go the sooner I get to collect on our bet."



Yes, definitely in trouble.



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . .  . . . . . . .. . .



I was generally happy with the way things had turned out.  Of course

the evidence wasn't enough for our abortionist friend to be arrested.

Depending on how well he cleaned out his furness there may not be any

evidence at all.  Still eventually when the girls failed to come back

the alarm would be raised.  I was sure one of their coconspirators

back in school would finally break and the bank transaction linking

them with the house in Worcester would direct the police in that

direction and away from the quiet road where I found them.



I was so caught up in events that at first I didn't even notice them.

I suppose we've all seen hitchers from time to time, huddled by the

side of the road waving those pathetic little signs.  They look at you

with such hope as you approach that it's almost impossible to drive

away without feeling a complete heel.  I mean, here I was driving

Doc's shipment down to New York in his big black limo.  I'm simply not

allowed to stop, but somehow today I wanted to make an exception so I

pulled over.  The first girl was blonde, bungled up against the cold

in a huge green raincoat.  She ran up along side.



"Going to New York mister?" She asked hopefully.



"Yes," I said, " But I can't give you a lift.  My boss is asleep in 

the back and he wont pick up hitchers."



 By now her brunette friend had wondered up.



I pointed back the way I came.  "If you go back there you'll find a

big truck stop.  It's dry and it's warm and you stand a better chance

of a lift that waiting here."



"Back there?" The brunette asked.



"'Bout a quarter mile."  I reached over and handed her a C note.  It

was part of the money we'd taken from Beth's account so it seemed

strangely appropriate.  "This will buy you dinner while you wait."



"Thanks mister!" They said in unison.



"Shush," I whispered, "If he wakes up I could loose my job."



They looked at me conspiratorially.



"Do you girls have a place to stay when you get there?"



"Oh yes, we have a friend there already," the blonde said.  She wasn't

a very good liar.



"While you're eating dinner do a little rethinking," I said, "A lot of

places won't allow extra tenants and your *friend* may not be able to

let you stay.  New York is a bad place to live on the streets."



The brunette smiled politely, "Thanks mister but we'll be ok, honest."



I pulled away feeling perhaps a little better, then the blonde called 

out.



"Thanks mister! See you in New York!" 



I winced, for her sake I hoped not.



I quickly lowered the tinted partition and looked into the back.  JoJo

sat in her strange fetish outfit, hands cuffed behind her back and one

of Doc's gags strapped in her mouth.  She sat passively looking

through the tinted window.  Next to her Myra was similarly bound and

was also sitting quietly.  So far she'd been no trouble and I still

had the will suppressant as a backup.



I smiled, "Just a couple of hitch hikers ladies, nothing to worry 

about." Then I headed on to the interstate and off to New York.











From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:28 1997

From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage

Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap3 "Mayhem in Manhattan" (M/ff B&D NC Action/Adventure)

Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:28 GMT

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************************************************************

                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER

                                     ===================



The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and

has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet.  If it

is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the

author.



All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons

living or dead is purely coincidental.  The author does not

necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this

story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.



Quin 1997

tmquin@ibm.net

************************************************************



                            Doc's Orders  by Quin

                            ======================



Chapter 3  "Mayhem in Manhattan"

==========================



Out on the highway I had chance to relax.  Ironically if you stick to

the speed limit there is actually less chance of being pulled over on

the Interstate than on some side road.  Highway Patrol officers and

State Troopers assigned to major routes never have problems making

their quotas, so random checks are less frequent.



Gradually my mind turned back to the delivery.  It seemed fairly

straight forward.  The club the girls would be performing at had a

swanky Manhattan address.  Their act lasted about twenty minutes

leaving us exposed for less than an hour.  Still no matter how I

looked at it something about this deal stank.  It wasn't the rush to

get Myra away, we'd taken similar risks before with slaves that

weren't completely ready.  In fact just a year before we'd been forced

to drug up a new recruit and use her to arrange an alibi for one of

our contacts.  Such things were bad but they were manageable.  Hell,

I've recruited in elevators.  After that almost anything's a piece of

cake.  I think the thing that was ringing alarm bells with me was the

details.  Why do this shit with Myra?  Kitten had proved Doc could

extract almost anything given time.  Those millions of dollars had to

be somewhere.  Our client could be the big hero and have Doc recover

the money for the bank.  Hell, I'm sure Doc could use a few million.

Why have her humiliate herself on stage when you could get a more

tangible revenge?  For that matter why have them perform at all?

Further it had taken all six weeks to break JoJo.  That made her an

exceptional individual, I doubt I could resist Doc that long.  What

was such a person doing working as a PA?



I looked at my overnight as it sat on the seat beside me, best to be

sure......



 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . .. .

. . . . . . .



About a half hour from Manhattan I stopped at one of my usual rest

stops and did my final preparations.  Myra struggled a little as I

gave her the will suppressor.  I sat and watched her for a few

minutes.  Doc's drugs were extremely experimental, it's hard to get

FDA approval for drugs designed to enslave the user.  Though Doc's lab

is of pharmaceutical quality so there isn't the same risks as with

street drugs, some people can have a bad reaction to aspirin and these

were not tested that thoroughly.  Slowly I began to see the light

dimming in her eyes.  I noticed a stray tear as it trickled down her

cheek.  Taking a compact from her purse I attempted to fix it.  After

all it wouldn't do for her to look bad on her big night.  Strangely I

began to feel a little better, whatever we were getting ourselves in

to at least I didn't have to worry about Myra.  Relieved I hit the

road again.



The Blue Note Club was on West 28th just a few blocks from the Empire

State.  Back in the Thirties this had been a major business district

and had somehow avoided the major redevelopment of the Sixties.  Now

the area was a little rundown but was close enough to Broadway to

still be inside the party district.  As I was over an hour early I

cruised the area a while.  If Myra was going to go ape shit it was

best that she did it in the limo.  I had to admit that Doc's drug

seemed to be working.  Myra looked like a robot, she took direction to

the point were I could get her to look left or right on command.



I was relieved to see the side entrance of the club was clear.  If

there was going to be trouble it was likely to be here when the slaves

smelt freedom for the first time.  The club used seedy and bohemian as

a motif.  The windows were painted over with stylized representations

of Jazz musicians and their instruments so it was impossible to see

inside.  It was still early in the night but s I'd still expected more

activity.  I cruised the block again my instincts telling me to run.



There used to be a time when I'd listen to my instincts.  Twenty five

clicks into Iraq with only an LTD for company had been one of those

times, but for some reason tonight I ignored it.  I told myself it was

for Doc's generous delivery bonus but what good would a bonus be if

you weren't alive to spend it?  I suppose the real reason was that I

had too many unanswered questions to pull out now.  They say curiosity

killed the cat, and it seemed not only felines are effected.



I looked at my watch, still an hour early.  Though the lights were on

the club seemed very quiet probably indicating that it wasn't open

yet.  Chances were the area would fill up very quickly once the doors

opened.  Trying to get the girls inside when the alley was full of

people didn't strike me as fun.  I felt it best to get them inside

now.  I was sure our clients could find us somewhere to stay until

show time.  Finding a quiet spot I parked up and freed the girls.  Doc

had warned me about Myra but I'd seen nothing that indicated that JoJo

was a problem.  I felt unusually tense like I knew we'd have problems.

I felt I needed an Ace somewhere and I was willing to take a few risks

to get it.  Reaching into my overnight I recovered my spare 9mm and a

second magazine.



"JoJo, listen to me slave!"



JoJo looked down, "Yes Master?"



"I'm going to put these in your purse.  They're quite heavy so you

will have to compensate a little for them.  As far as you're concerned

the purse is light.  You will carry it as if it is just part of your

arm.  If asked you will only give it to me, is that clear?"



"Yes Master."



"Good girl."



"Now Myra, there is something you can do too........"



 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 



The side door of the Blue Note Club was in a quiet side alley off of a

busy main street.  It seemed safe enough, I felt sure I could leave

the Lincoln here without having it stolen.  Doc had given me a cloak

for JoJo, something to cover her kinky costume until show time.  I was

fairly confident that the purse would go unnoticed under it.  We left

the car and headed to the side door.  At my first knock it opened

revealing a large, brutish looking white guy who'd probably been born

a bouncer.  He stood perhaps seven feet tall and seemed about the same

wide.  Brown hair flecked with gray was shaved close to the skull.  He

had no neck that I could see and his general demeanor was unfriendly.



"Yeah?"



I indicated the girls. "I brought the special act?"



It seemed to take a while for him to digest this information, then he

looked inside and shouted, "Toby, they're here?"



Toby turned out to me a thin willowy black guy in his early thirties.

Compared to his friend he was a stick of a man though I noticed that

he had a good muscle tone.  When it came to intelligence there was no

comparison "Toby" was the one I worried about.



Toby looked me over probably doing the same calculation I was.



"You carrying?" He asked.



I rolled my eyes, "Of course I'm carrying," I said, "This is New York

if you don't have a gun the police stop you and give you one!"



Toby liked that, he smiled showing a perfect set of white teeth.  He

snapped his fingers, "Ok let's have it."  When I paused his tone

started to harden.  "Look, the boss is a little nervous so hand it

over.  You'll get it back when you leave."



With some reluctance I reached into the holster and withdrew my .38.

I could tell Toby wasn't satisfied and I didn't blame him.  He frisked

me finding the holdout in my ankle holster straight away.  I shrugged,

"Can't blame a guy for trying."  Toby flashed me a look that told me

he *could* but finding nothing else he stood aside and let me pass.



JoJo almost made it through.  She had almost glided between them when

Toby realized the potential danger.



"The chicks too!" 



"Ok," I agreed, "But you won't find anything.  They're slaves you

know.  Why would a slave have a gun?"



Still Toby reached for JoJo's purse; and at that moment Myra made her

bid for freedom.  She was out the door in a second with both myself

and Toby after her.  I reached her first bringing her down in a flying

tackle.  She opened her mouth to scream but Toby's hand covered it and

together we dragged her inside.



"Shit man, I was told these whores were trained?"



"In her case *partially trained*" I said, "Your boss wanted them too

early, before this one was fully finished.  Her act is all we can rely

on her to do."



We paused a while to get our breath back and I looked him over again.

I knew I'd been right about Toby.  Everything about him screamed

Special Forces.  I doubted he was a Marine, we can generally spot each

other in a crowd, but he'd been something Delta Force,

Airbourne....something.  Still he'd missed one trick.  Thanks to

Myra's diversion JoJo's purse, and it's precious cargo, had made it

through intact.



Inside was not what I expected.  This was not the backstage of a

thriving nightclub, even one that wasn't open yet.  The air smelt

stale and dusty, like no one had been here in a while.  It dawned on

me that the club was closed, probably had been for several months, and

that the exterior lights and signs had only been left on to discourage

looting.



"Follow me," Toby commanded and headed off towards the front of the

house.  I noticed posters and bit's of old tickets littering the

corridor.  Most were dated about three months before.  Three or four

months was probably as long as a prime location as this could remain

unoccupied.  This seemed confirmed when we entered the main room.

Most of the tables were covered with dust sheets but at the back there

seemed definite signs of renovation.



The club's last makeover seemed to have been in the Eighties.  It had

that Yuppie, Club Tropicana look, all bamboo furniture and plastic

rubber plants.  I began to think that perhaps the Blue Note Club was

what the place was becoming rather than what it had been.  One of the

more annoying Eighties features was a small raised island just large

enough for a couple of tables that had been built to one side of the

dance floor.  Back then it was a place where the beautiful people

could sit so that everyone could admire them.  Now, a large

comfortable couch had been placed on it at an angle facing the stage.

On the couch sat a man and a woman.  He was dark, in his mid to late

thirties, thin, well muscled but nothing to write home about.  He was

dressed in a simple tux and looked for all the world as if he'd just

stepped out of a James Bond movie.  She was more exotic, perhaps ten

years younger with long blonde hair.  She was wearing a leather dress,

it's bodice slightly ribbed like a corset showing off her figure to

best effect.  However the most extraordinary thing about both of them

was that they were masked.  He wore a little burglar effort that

covered part of his upper face.  She again went more exotic preferring

instead a large leather affair with sections that extended down to her

cheekbones.  I also noticed that they were both wearing gloves, he an

open backed driver's pair, she had long black leather opera gloves.  A

careful pair, I thought, not taking any chances on being identified.



"Ah," The man said as we entered, "You're early."  His voice had an

educated Boston twang but it covered something else.  If I had to

guess I'd have said California but educated at Harvard.  She said

nothing.



"Would you care for some Champaign?"  He said, recovering a bottle

from a strategically placed ice bucket.



I smiled, "I'm sorry but no.  I have to drive later.  If you have a

coke or something I wouldn't say no.  It's been a long drive."  I

think he'd expected white slavers to be quiet tough men like the

gangsters you see in the movies, because for a while he seemed

confused.



"Toby?" He asked.



The black man headed over to a cool box hidden behind the couch and

returned seconds later with a can of diet coke.  While he was

distracted I moved closer to JoJo closing in on her purse.  Toby

tossed me the can and I opened it letting the froth spill out on my

hand.  Cursing, I stepped forward and dried it on JoJo's cloak.



I glanced over at our hosts.  It would be easy to think they were a

pair of yuppies on some wild power kick but there was something else,

something disturbing about them I couldn't quite put my finger on.

The hairs on the back of my neck tingled as adrenaline started pumping

through my system.



"I was told that they were to perform at a party?"  I said, "Is there

somewhere we should wait until the others get here."



"This is the party, " The woman answered.  Her leather gloved hand

caressed the glass as she sipped her wine, "A very private party."

Her accent was pure Mayflower, each word rolled in two hundred years

of privilege until it seemed to drip money.



"Shall we begin?"  The man asked, "After all you have such a long way

to go."



I glanced towards the stage.  On it were a chair and a desk complete

with telephone and intercom.  I also noticed a small 8mm video camera

on a tripod.  If I could get this over with I'd have another few hours

safety margin on the will suppressor.



"Why not?" I said, "If you're ready?"



The man nodded and I directed the girls towards the stage.  I was

going to follow but Toby stopped me and pointed to the camera.  I

could only watch as JoJo and her purse got further and further away.



On cue they started the dialogue as corny as before.  Then they went

into the lesbian scene.  The drug seemed to have drained some of

Myra's drive and the teasing and stroking was not as one sided as it

had been before.  Both girls got as far as being bottomless and a

small struggle started as each fought for time on the other's clit.

Myra started to make significant moves and her tongue danced over

JoJo's slit.  The blonde girl tried to fight but the battle was lost.

She started into her orgasm with a squeal of disappointment.



With effort I dragged my attention away and back to our hosts.  The

man was turned on, no surprise there, any man would be.  The woman's

look was more indescribable.  I could see her gloved fingers buried

deep in her pussy from here, but there was something in that look,

some form of pure hate too insane for me to comprehend.  This was

going to end badly I could tell and all I wanted now was that gun.



With a scream Myra came, I noticed the woman shudder and knew she'd

got off too.



I signaled the girls to come down and turned to the audience.



"Madam et Monsieur that completes our feature presentation.  May I

please remind you that we are available for club dates in the greater

Manhattan area.  I thank you and goodnight"



JoJo had fallen behind as she left the stage, the gun was still just

out of reach.



"Wait!"  The man said, "The party isn't over yet.  Joanne come over

here."



JoJo happily complied, fuck toys will respond to anyone with a

commanding tone.  I could only watch as she and her purse headed

towards the couch.  I noticed that Toby had positioned himself

strategically to the right of his boss.  The white guy who I'd started

to think of affectionately as "Ugg the Barbarian" stood near the door

to backstage.  Over by the renovations I caught another movement.  It

was a classic encirclement and the fact they were doing it now implied

things were coming to a head.



The man undid his fly.  JoJo needed no further explanation, sinking to

her knees and taking his cock tenderly in her lips.  Like all Doc's

girls she had a wonderful technique using tongue, suction, pressure

and friction to best effect.  She was doing it slowly, building the

sensation.  The woman watched enviously then hitched up her leather

skirt.



"Myra over here," She cooed.



Myra started over but with a groan the guy pushed JoJo away.  "No,

that bitch is mine!"  He pushed JoJo roughly towards the woman.  "Take

this one."



He beckoned Myra over and then turned some of his attention back to

me.



"Hadn't you better be going?" He asked.



"I have to return the girls," I said, "Company rules."



"We've changed our minds," He said his voice hardening.  "We were so

impressed with their performance that we've decided to keep them.

Haven't we my dear?"



The woman just groaned.  Her head was thrown back, eyes closed.  She

had pulled one tit free of the leather bodice and was rolling the

nipple between her gloved thumb and forefinger.  Down at waist height

JoJo's face was buried deep in the woman's pussy as her talented

tongue gradually built an orgasm.



"We paid for them."  He said, a hard edge to his voice, "I don't see

any problem."



"They're not finished," I said, "Your time scale was too short.  If

you want them neither myself or my associates have a problem but you

must give us a month or so to finish the training."  I knew as soon as

I said it that he wouldn't agree.  I had been tempted to call Toby as

a witness of Myra's instability but a quick glance had shown him

mesmerized by the sight of the two women getting it off.  That was an

advantage too good to miss.



Myra had started work on the guy's cock and his ability to focus was

starting to go.  He sighed, "I had hoped not to have to do this here,"

He said, "Too many links back to the bank...."  He groaned as Myra

upped the sensation.



"Toby, dispose of our annoying little friend."



Then I moved.  I avoided making a direct beeline for the purse, but

instead crouched and moved at an angle about six feet to the right.

Ugg could still shoot at me but if he missed the couple on the couch

would take the bullet.  Of course this always assumed that Ugg was

smart enough to realize that.  I started closing on JoJo.  Toby

finally broke his gaze and started reaching for his gun.  I knew that

in seconds I would be a dead man and suddenly understood all that crap

about curiosity and cats.



Then Myra bit down hard. 



It was so unexpected even I was confused, it was a major no no

something a slave never did.  The man screamed in agony, a sound

almost as bad as Kitten's sonic disorientator.  Toby reacted

instantly, unarmed my danger potential had just fallen and he switched

his attention to Myra.  I vaulted over one of the covered tables and

pushed it over.  I was pleased that it seemed more substantial than

the bamboo chairs.



"JoJo," I ordered, "Come to me *NOW*"



JoJo, who up until now had been too intent on licking slit, heard the

order and broke away.  The woman tried to grab her but if this was an

attempt to stop her escape or to continue the pussy licking I couldn't

say.



Toby had just managed to pry Myra off his bosses dick when the

shooting started.  These were wild shots from the guys at the back of

the house.  Toby realized immediately that he was in a potential

friendly fire situation and screamed at them to stop.  Seizing the

opportunity Myra made a break for the backstage door.  By now I'd

recovered the gun from JoJo's purse.  Toby seemed quite relaxed, after

all he had at least four armed guys against an unarmed man and two

slaves.  It was time to shake that complacency.



My first shot took Toby in the leg.  I had considered killing him but

then the rest of the goons were probably even more dangerous without a

leader.  The next I planted between the two on the couch.  Despite his

pain Toby reacted like a professional.  Leaping forward he used his

body momentum to push the couch backwards causing both himself and his

employers to fall behind the island and into cover.  It also upset the

cooler spilling crushed ice across part of the dance floor.



Now was our chance, the two guys at the back were closing fast but the

ice would slow them a little.  Toby was out for the moment.  I shot

Ugg, a head shot in case he wore a jacket.  As he fell back I yelled

at the girls to run and laid down a little covering fire.  Then I

raced after them.  Shots whistled around in confusion then I heard the

woman's voice.



"Ignore him you fools! Shoot the women, shoot the women."



Then we were out.  I glanced down at Ugg as I ran over him.  Single

shot just above the right ear.  Not bad for a guy with a handgun in

this light.



As we reached the stage door I found the limo keys and pressed a

button on the fob.  With a click the doors opened and the engine

started, yet another rewiring trick I'd had done.  I confess that if

the girls had decided to run at that moment I couldn't have stopped

them but they realized that the only safety was in the Limo.  The

threw themselves in the back, I took the drivers seat.  We were almost

out of the alley when a shot shattered the rear window.  Of course I'd

realized the limo wasn't bulletproof.  If you're not the President or

Al Capone you don't need it to be.  Still the whole thing came as

quite a shock.  At least two more bullets struck home before we were

clear.



I did a couple of quick turns.  I hadn't seen a car, with luck it

would take them a while to pursue.  I assessed my situation.  I was in

a limo very obviously damaged by gunfire, ferrying two, not always

cooperative sex slaves around New York.  In addition I had some weird

oversexed yuppie couple and their private army after me.



Of course Doc and I had arranged a standard procedure in case

something like this happened.  What I should do now was simple.  Find

a quiet alleyway, shoot the slaves and set the Limo on fire.  I had ID

on me.  Not my own ID of course but good enough to hire a car and get

out of town.  I could then arrange for Doc or Kitten to pick me up.

That was what I'd agreed with Doc, after all no slave was worth

compromising the whole organization, but part of me grudgingly

accepted that I'd be dead without these two.  Besides the bad guy's

wanted them killed and the last thing I wanted was to do *THEM* any

favors.  So I pushed their fate out of my mind for now and instead

concentrated on my next move.



One thing was clear.  I had to get off the island.  It was now quite

late into the night, most businesses were closed, most shows and bars

open.  This was as quiet as the roads out of town were likely to get

before three.  I didn't have a choice I headed for the Holland Tunnel.



I'd have preferred a bridge, tunnels are too well lit if you're this

badly damaged, and I knew it would be a miracle if I wasn't pulled

over on the other side.  Still my only other alternatives, stop and

get another car or drive through downtown Manhattan to the Queensboro

Bridge didn't look that hot either.



"How's it going back there?"  I asked.



"I'm fine Master," JoJo said, "But Myra seems a little odd."



"Is she hit?"  I glanced back Myra was gently rocking backwards and

forwards mumbling something under her breath.



"No Master, I don't think so?" JoJo answered.



Doc's will suppressor should have been good for another hour or so,

but then I doubted a drugged Myra would go around biting cocks either.



"JoJo, listen to me.  The restraints you were wearing this morning are

in the small cupboard on your side.  I want you to take them out and

cuff Myra's hands and feet, ok?"



JoJo opened the cupboard and started to cuff Myra's wrists behind her.

"Good girl, now make them good and tight."  Myra didn't fight though I

wasn't clear if this was because JoJo was doing the tying or because

she was too far out of it.



"Good girl.  Now take the gag and put it into her mouth.  Strap it

tight as well."  Myra protested a little at this but it was a little

too late by then.  I glanced down.  The floor was covered in glass but

I couldn't help that now.



"Push her on to the floor and cover her with your cloak.....  Good.

Now put your feet on top of her and push down a little.  Listen JoJo,

you must keep Myra covered and on the floor is that clear?  If she

tries to get up push her down."



JoJo smiled, Doc's slaves get a slight sexual thrill when they obey

orders.  Doing so much in such a little time had turned her on, I knew

that she'd be horny tonight.



"Yes Master," She said in a husky voice. 



In my mind I thanked simple, loyal JoJo a thousand times.  So far

she'd not failed me.  I made a silent pact that should we survive this

I would find her that kind master, that table dancing in Juan's

Mexican brothel was not going to be her future.





I'd taken a fairly eccentric route to the tunnel entrance.  I admit

that it was a gamble because it gave Toby and the boys chance to get

in front of me.  On the other hand the same factors of good light and

surveillance that bothered me would stop them doing too much on the

Tunnel approach road.  My biggest fear had been that they'd intercept

me in some quiet side street.  I was passing a building site when

something caught my eye.  It was one of those transparent plastic

sheets they use to keep out the rain and suddenly I had an idea.

Stopping the car I quickly climbed up and cut a section off with my

knife.  I carry supplies, anyone in my business would.  As it would be

hard to explain handcuffs and collars to the cops about the most

useful thing a guy like me can carry is duct tape.  For a slaver the

stuff is just so versatile.  As a friend of mine says it's like the

Force; it has a light side and a dark side and holds the universe

together.  In my case I carry two rolls, one white the other black.

White is good for gags, it isn't nearly as obvious as the usual silver

type.  Black on the other hand is good for bonds, in a darkened car it

isn't that obvious.



Taking the black I stuck small sections over the bullet holes.  It

looked like shit but it was better than the obvious rings of bare

metal.  Next I taped the plastic over the broken rear window.  It too

looked shit, but with car crime like it is how many cars do you see in

a day with temporary patched up windows?  Satisfied that we looked

more like victims of a smash and grab than of a driveby I headed for

the tunnel.



At first I'd thought they were cops.  The car was a tan colored

Taurus, and the FBI buys those in their hundreds.  The aggressive way

they wove through the traffic behind me suggested it too.  I was on

the approach to the tunnel thinking that perhaps I'd got away with it.

Quickly I glanced in the mirror.  The two in front I didn't recognize

but in the back, a pained look on his face sat Toby.  Then I saw the

danger.  If I stopped for the toll I would leave myself in the perfect

position for a driveby.  If I didn't stop then the cops would be

waiting for me at the other side.



I realized I only had one chance.  Slowly I made my way towards the

barrier for the right most lane.  As predicted the Taurus started

edging towards my left side.  Timing was going to be critical.  As the

cars paused to pay the toll they could just reach out and shoot me.

Unless......



Then I saw what I'd wanted.  A Volvo in the lane to my left slowed a

little.  I placed my gun on the window ledge, it didn't pay to be too

obvious.  Distance was all important.  Finally I fired, taking out the

Volvo's left rear tire.  He stopped, and his lane stopped, and because

it was in that lane the Taurus stopped.  Coming to the gate I grabbed

a palm full of change and hurled it into the basket.  I probably paid

the toll for fifty guys but I didn't care.  For the moment I was still

alive.



I was almost out of the tunnel by the time they caught up.  I wasn't

too worried I figured Toby was smart enough to know he'd get better

chances later.  Still I had hoped that perhaps I could shake them.

The Lincoln was a large heavy car with poor acceleration, but the top

speed compared favorably with the Taurus.  The faster I could go the

more chance I stood.  Assuming I didn't get pulled over.  I had some

idea where I wanted to go.  Doc had another staging area on an

industrial lot just off the 280.  I was hoping I could find a new car

and maybe some backup.  Of course all this assumed Toby would let me

get that far.  Surprisingly he didn't bother me as I slipped through

the minor roads needed to change interstate.  Perhaps he was following

me, perhaps he was after a place quieter than I-78 or maybe he just

doesn't like Newark



In any case we were on a fairly quiet stretch of 280 when he made his

move.  At the first clatter of automatic fire I knew we were in

trouble.  Car to car with handguns is tricky even if the other guy

isn't dodging.  Throw enough bullets around and something is going to

hit.



"JoJo get down on the floor with Myra. *NOW*"



Seconds later one of the side windows exploded into a shower of glass.

I glanced in the mirror, as predicted he was coming up fast.  I tried

to swing my rear end out and side swipe him but he was too quick.  A

truck loomed up ahead.  Looking at the Taurus I could see the guy in

the passenger seat taking aim with what looked like a MAC-10.  I had

no intention of finding out if it was.  I hit the brake.  The other

driver was good but not *that* good.  He shot by me and the bullets

missed by a mile.  Next he dried to follow but over compensated and I

shot past him.  I took a few hits and my engine noise stared to

change.  I hoped it was just the muffler.  A desperate plan formed in

my mind one that could work if I was in a sports car.  As it was I had

a better than evens chance of getting us all killed.  As I drew level

with the truck I glanced under the trailer.  As I'd suspected there

was a little metal tank with a gauge on the side slung underneath.

The trailer was a Peterbilt most of them have this tank, it's the

reservoir for the air brakes.  Putting my foot down hard I swept past

him aware all the time that Toby was right behind me.  When I felt I'd

got as far ahead as I dared I emptied my gun into the tank..



It helped that the trucker was doing a minor correction at the time,

still the effect was stunning.  The tank exploded and almost

immediately the trailer brakes came hard on.  The tires smoked and the

trucker fought to control it.  He failed, the trailer whipped round

striking the back of the limo and nearly sending me off the road.  I

never saw what happened to the Taurus.



As soon as I could I got off the highway.  I could tell the damage was

bad.  I could probably nurse the car a few more miles.  As it was we

broke down less than a mile from the exit.  Fortunately there was some

cover nearby and I was able to push the car behind it.  I just prayed

they were in worse shape than we were.  I took a couple of hours on

some basic repairs but there was significant oil loss.  I figured

another few miles and the entire engine would seize.  The hard

decision I'd been putting off since Manhattan now seemed my only

choice.  Pushing my last clip into the gun I walked around to the back

of the car and opened the door.  Incredibly they were both asleep

curled up together like children at a slumber party.  Myra was still

bound of course so the illusion wasn't so perfect but after all we'd

been through together I just couldn't kill them in cold blood.

Looking at a map an idea started to form, it was a desperate plan and

it got Joe Q Public more involved than I'd have liked.  I glanced down

at the sleeping slaves.  The alternative wasn't so rosy either.











From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:38 1997

From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage

Subject: NEW: Doc's Orders: Chap 4 "Home Invasion" (M/ffff NC B&D)

Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:38 GMT

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************************************************************

                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER

                                     ===================



The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and

has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet.  If it

is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the

author.



All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons

living or dead is purely coincidental.  The author does not

necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this

story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.



Quin 1997

tmquin@ibm.net

************************************************************



                            Doc's Orders  by Quin

                            ==================



Chapter 4  "Home Invasion"

====================



I chose the house because the garage doors were open and it offered

the quickest way to get the car under cover.  Of course the fact it

was near the edge of town helped too.  It was almost seven thirty, one

of the worst possible times, but getting the car to come even this far

had taken all night.  I'd lucked out because the streets were still

empty, another couple of minutes and I'd have been screwed.  Realising

I'd have to be quick I drove into the garage.



"JoJo, close the garage doors then stay with Myra."



"Yes Master, " She seemed a little sullen having woken up extremely

horny this morning.  Unfortunately I hadn't been able to do anything

about it at the time.  Still she was a slave, she had to learn to live

with disappointment.

 

I pulled on the ski mask then grabbing my overnight and gun made my

way inside through the garage door.  I suppose I'd expected the

typical family scene, Mom, Dad and a couple of kids.  What I got was a

little different.  The woman was in her early thirties, attractive,

nice figure, mousy brown hair.  She was dressed in a female business

suit, well uniform realy, she had one of those little name badges that

receptionists wear.  The girl was fifteen or sixteen, obviously the

daughter, with her mother's eyes and hair.  She wore some kind of

school uniform.



The girl opened her mouth to scream but when I pointed the gun at her

it died to a whimper.



"Not a move, not a sound understand?"



"Please," The woman said, "My purse is on the counter.  It's all we

have, please just take it and go."



I gave her my best psycho look, "Tell me lady.  Was that no sound?"



"No," she whispered.



"You just don't give up do you?  Still we can fix that."  I reached

into the overnight pulled out JoJo's strap gag and tossed it to her.



She caught it and looked in disgust at the huge penis mouthpiece.  A

man could never be this large and still walk.  I was deliberately

acting twitchy as if I'd plug them both in a second.



"Well bitch. What are you waiting for?"



"Please," She said, "We'll be quiet.  There's no need......"



I put the gun to the girl's head letting my hand shake a little.  I

didn't have time for this, I'd already noticed the third breakfast

setting.  The girl whimpered and this seemed to make up the woman's

mind.  Slowly and with trembling hands she opened wide and pushed the

mouthpiece inside.



"Now fasten the fucking straps!"  I watched as the woman gagged

herself.  "Tighter bitch or you'll end up burying a daughter."  She

grunted as she pulled the strap extra tight, so far so good.



Then I threw her the pair of leather cuffs JoJo had been wearing.

"One on each wrist, nice and tight, now!"  She gave me a look, doe

caught in the headlights.  Her eyes flashed to the gun against her

sobbing daughters head.  Then she fastened first one wrist then the

other.  I made her put her hands behind her and locked the cuffs

together.  Of course I checked the cuffs and the gag but both were

tight, she didn't want to risk upsetting me.  I took Myra's cuffs and

fastened the girl's hands behind her.



I bent down so that I was whispering in her ear.  "Ok sweetheart, who

else is here?"



"No..no one."



"Bullshit!  I can see the other table place stupid.  Now tell me who

it is?  Is it daddy?"



"M...my sister."



"Where *IS* daddy?"



"With his *GIRLFRIEND*."  There was such venom in that answer that I

was forced to believe her.  Looking around I saw an almost clean tea

towel that would do nicely.  Balling it up I brought it to her lips.

After seeing what I'd done to Mommy she had a pretty good idea what

was about to happen.



 "Please no!"



I smiled my best psycho smile at her, "Listen sweetcakes this is how

it works.  While you and Mommy aren't gagged my trigger finger is

awfully itchy.  I could blow your sister's head clean off.  So open up

like a good girl and help my finger stop itching."



She was scared.  She looked over at her mother.  The woman made a

small gagged sound and nodded.



"Please don't hurt my sister. She's a little slow but...umph."



I pushed the towel firmly into her mouth sealing it in place with a

couple of strips of duct tape.  A search of the kitchen draws found a

few additional towels two of which made excellent blindfolds.



Quickly I went outside and retrieved the slaves.  Myra I'd rebound

with duct tape so I could use her cuffs, but she'd been so noisy

lately I'd let her keep Doc's gag.  I carried her through to the den,

I didn't want the two in the kitchen to know we had another captive.

Tying her ankles to a radiator and assuring myself that she couldn't

be seen from outside I wandered back to the kitchen.



I tossed JoJo one of the rolls of tape.  "Use this to tie their ankles

to the chairs, tape their elbows too."



"Yes sir," She said.  I'd asked her not to call me Master while we

were here.



Then grabbing a couple of extra towels I went in search of the missing

sister.



The sound of running water led me to a shower room on the second

floor.  All in all the house was nice, built in the late sixties and

probably worth about a quarter mill.  I wondered how they could afford

it.  Still sister number two was having a shower.  Feeling a little

like Norman Bates I crept a little closer then ripped the curtain

aside.  I got ready to pounce on her before she could scream.



"Hello," A voice said, "Who are you?"



The girl looked about thirteen, her body just starting into those

interesting changes that make up adolecence, but the voice seemed

younger perhaps five or six.  I remembered what the other sister had

said before I gagged her.



"Hello," I said, "Who are you?"



"Amy," She said in a friendly voice, "Who are you?"



"Err Jimmy," I said offering my hand, "Pleased to meet you Amy."



"Why are you wearing that? Is your head cold."



"Yes," I said, "I have a head cold."



"Becky, gets those," Amy confided, "But only when she has a test at

school."



"And Becky is?"



"My sister!"



"Here," I said giving her a towel, "You had better dry yourself or

you'll catch cold too."



I didn't want to have to tie Amy up if I could avoid it, she could

panic or have a fit or something.  Instead I took her to her room and

helped her get dressed.  I told her that there would be no school

today and that her mother and sister were too busy to play.  I had a

friend who could play though as long as she didn't go downstairs.

Would she wait here?



Then I went in search of JoJo.  I found her putting the finishing

touches to the mother's bonds.  She'd done a fantastic job.  Far in

excess of what I'd expected.  This could only mean she wanted to be

fucked badly.  Slaves always over perform when they're desperately

horny.



As they were blindfolded I could take off the ski mask.  I took JoJo

to one side and whispered in her ear.



"Here, put on this mask.  You'll find a little girl called Amy

upstairs.  I want you to play with her until I say otherwise.

Whatever happens keep her upstairs.  Do a good job and I'll reward you

latter."



A sparkle appeared in JoJo's eyes as she pulled on the ski mask, we

both knew what reward meant.



"Now remember keep the mask on and stay away from the windows.  If the

girl asks why you're wearing it say you have a head cold."



JoJo seemed a bit confused at the final part and I wondered if Doc had

given her basic child care training.  Still for the moment it didn't

matter.



I looked at the woman's name badge.  It said her name was Sandra

Fisher and that she worked in a savings and loan downtown.  Reaching

down I loosened the strap and removed the gag.  She sat working her

jaw for a while.  When I was sure she was comfortable I began.



"So Sandra," I said, "As you can tell we have a situation here.  Me

and my friend need somewhere quiet to hold up for a few hours and

unfortunately that place is here."



"What have you done with Amy?"  She asked, her voice trembling a

little.



"Nothing," I said, "My friend is looking after her and if you

cooperate she need never know any of this unpleasant business took

place.  Now this is what's going to happen.  First we are going to

make a few phone calls.  Nice simple ones just to tell work, school

etc.  that the Fisher family has a one day virus.  Next you are going

to tell me everyone who you may even remotely expect to come around.

The reason is that if anyone comes and I don't expect them then I'll

shoot them as a burglar.  Understand?  Finally you are going to sit

here quietly until me and my friend have gone."



"How long will that be?" She asked.



"Three or four hours if you cooperate.  If you're good we'll just

leave you tied up and ring a neighbor when we're far enough away.  If

you're bad be may have to take Amy or Becky with us, ok?"



She nodded.



"Ok first up where are your car keys?"



"I....I  don't have a car...my husb.."



"Ok I know," I said.  If I'd have thought about it I'd have realized

that no car in garage and no car on the drive probably meant no car."



"Ok, lets up that estimate by an hour. Where are the nearest shops?"



I got her to make the phone calls with no trouble, one to work, one to

Becky's school and another to the special school Amy attended.  I had

the foresight to have her preempt a number of people who may call on

the fly.  Next I made sure the answering machine was setup ok and

pulled the chairs with their struggling contents into the utility

room.  I checked the bonds and found them tight, I wasn't worried

about Sandra because I knew how effective Doc's gags were but I did

the nipple test on Becky to be sure.  Satisfied, they couldn't be

heard I took the added precaution of turning on the dryer.  Bangs and

strange noises are common when you dry clothes and the sound covered

their gagged moans.  I checked on Myra, told JoJo were I was going and

headed out back locking the door behind me.  There was an alley around

back and I quickly vaulted the wall into it.  I'd decided it was best

if no one saw me around the Fisher's.  I wondered what to do about

them.  If it was up to me I'd leave them alone, after all they knew

nothing about us or our business.  It would be a mystery for the local

police and an exciting story for Becky to tell her friends at

school....  Of course the final decision was Doc's.  Knowing him I'd

end up recruiting the whole family.  I'd heard that mother daughter

acts are quite popular in Bangkok this year.......



As I neared the shops I thought of Sam.  He'd been Doc's agent in New

York for the past seventeen years, and was one of the most senior

people in the organization.  Yet he'd accepted a commission from the

gruesome twosome?  Well I suppose we all get old.  My first job was to

warn him, Doc's liking for compartmentalization can leave his people

very exposed if things go wrong.  Now the only link our Yuppie friends

had to Doc was Sam.  I only hoped he'd been careful.  Ok so I admit

that it had crossed my mind that he could provide backup, but I was

starting to think I'd gotten things under control.



Doc is a little like the devil, he can assess the exact price you put

on your soul and buy it from you.  They say we all have our price, Doc

works by meeting that price, buying someone's absolute loyalty.  Of

course this only works if a person has high moral integrity in the

first place, otherwise they might just welch on the deal.  So Doc is

very choosy about *who* he buys.  I always find it ironic that a group

of people who will steal someone's daughter and sell her as a slave

are all people who's word you can trust absolutely.





Sam once told me his story and perhaps it will illustrate what I mean.

When he was eighteen Sam had married his childhood sweetheart Connie.

She was seventeen at the time they had been each others only partners.

It was a match made in heaven, they were perfect together, I can't

think of any couple more happy.  They settled down raised kids, Sam

built a business and all seemed perfect.  The only problem was that

Sam was sexually dominant, into bondage games and S&M and Connie just

wasn't interested.  So for twenty years he buried his dark desires and

got on with his life.  Gradually the tension grew and one day over a

beer he mentioned it to Doc who he'd met in the army.  Doc had smiled

that devil smile and made a bid for Sam's soul.  Doc needed an agent

for his organization, a contact in the Big Apple with a clean criminal

record and a business to use as a cover.  In return he would give Sam

what he'd always wanted, a pain slut to free his dark side on.  Sam

was shocked, but for his long association with Doc he would have

turned him in, but gradually Doc's poison started working on his

conscience and Sam started to think why not?  He had enough money that

he could keep a mistress without depriving his family.  Hell, he would

get even more if he worked for Doc.  Then one day he saw her on a bus.

She was twenty years his junior, as it was the early eighties I

suppose she had that preppy big haired Farrah Fawcett look, and Sam

had realized he wanted her.......



And the deal was struck.



That was seventeen years ago and Sam has kept the same slave ever

since.  Slaves evolve over time, even the fuck toys.  They get their

own interests and tastes.  Of course underneath they are still slaves,

but they are also real people with real interests.  Alison, Sam's

slave, is now a well respected expert on early Coptic manuscripts.

She runs her own business and for three weeks in four runs her own

life.  For the last seventeen years that fourth week has been Sam's

and during that time she is his devoted slave as he inflicts the sweet

pain on her willing body.



Whatever happened to the Fishers I'd realized I couldn't use their

phone, the phone company records would link them with whoever I

called.  So I was happy to see that the shops had a number of public

phones.  I was also pleased at the range of stores and that there was

both a druggist and a hardware store nearby.  That should speed things

up.



But first the phone......



For one week a month Sam was in Manhattan "on business", which

translated meant that he was whipping Alison's sweet behind or

torturing her pussy.  The rest of the time he was at home or playing

golf, one of his son's running his legitimate business.  I wondered

which week this was.



"Hello?" An older woman's voice answered.



"Hello, Mrs Turner?  Err Connie..  My name is Charles Kyle I don't

know if you remember me?  I'm a friend of your husband Sam?  I was

wondering if I could talk to him?"



I heard a muffled sob, "I'm sorry Mr Kyle, I..I Suppose you haven't

heard....I'm afraid my husband is dead."  In the background I heard a

girl's voice, probably the daughter, asking if she could take that.

Connie shooed her away.  I don't think Connie ever knew what Sam and I

did.  She knew he had some extra source of income and that I was

involved somewhere.  She's been discrete and dutiful but it was

obvious she didn't want her children involved.



"Dead?" A chill went down my spine, "When, how?"



"The police found his body last night.  He'd been on a business trip

to Manhattan.  They say it was street crime."



"Oh God no!  Oh, Connie I am so sorry!  I've known Sam for the past

eight years we meet whenever I'm in New York.  If there is anything I

can do?"



"My husband spoke of you often, said that you were a very loyal young

man?"



"He did?"



"Mr Kyle I must ask you to break a confidence that I am sure my

husband asked you to keep.  It's about the other woman."



I was silent.



"Come now Mr Kyle you must realize that I knew.  I was married to my

husband for thirty seven years, I knew him better than I knew myself."

There was pain in that voice but something more, a need that I

couldn't refuse.



"Yes," I said suddenly feeling very tired, "The other woman."



"He's been seeing her every month for the past seventeen years?"



"Yes."



"And he does things with her. Things he and I couldn't do."



"Please," I begged, "Don't do this. Leave it alone."



"Did they have children?"



"No," I said, " No, theirs wasn't that kind of relationship."



She seemed a little relieved but said, "Then she's alone."



"Yes."



"I'm lucky, you see I have the children.  They're here now keeping me

company.  It must be very terrible being alone."



"I suppose so," I said.



"Please Mr Kyle, if you should speak with that woman, have her call

me.  I want to meet her perhaps stay with us a few days.....  She and

my husband shared so much.  I wouldn't want her to be alone, not now."



Despite everything I found myself weeping.  Sam had been right about

Connie.  She was one in a million.  "Yes I will," I said, "God bless

Connie."



"Wait, Mr Kyle, how can I reach you for the memorial service."



"I travel," I said, "Don't worry I'll know." 



So Sam was killed last night.  I wondered if it was before or after my

visit to the club.  I had no doubt they were connected.  Sam had been

Military Intelligence, according to Doc he'd been the last man out of

Saigon.  I doubt a man like that would let himself get mugged.  I

started to ring Doc but then got to thinking.  If Sam had been with

Alison then she could be in danger.  Quickly I dialed her number.





The receiver was lifted, "Hello Alison?"



"Ah my dear Charles," Doc's voice said, "So glad you could join us."



"Doc, Sam's dead."



"I know dear boy.  Why do you think we're here.  Poor Alison is so

distressed I was forced to give her a sedative.  Now about my

shipment, have you disposed of it as we agreed?"



"Well, no. You see....."



"Good show!  I was a little concerned that you had.  Good to see

you're thinking on your feet.  Now where are you?"



Doc didn't seem too distressed about Sam, I suppose it's one of those

British things, but his clipped tone suggested that he *was* upset.  I

felt that payback was looming.  I gave him the address in a

prearranged code.  Shifted grid reference to give the town, the order

the street name appeared in the local phone book and the house number.

If someone was listening in then they would have problems with that."



"Business or residential?"



"Residential."



"Any residuals." Meaning any residents.



"Some," I admitted.



"Well I suppose it can't be helped. Inside two hours."



I rang off feeling relieved, the ball was back in Doc's court.



I did some shopping, mainly supplies needed to keep our hosts secure

then headed back.  I made sure no one saw me slip into the alley, then

hopped over the fence and in through the back door.



I opened the utility room to see quite a sight.  Somehow Becky had

managed to turn her chair a full 180 degrees AND cause it to fall at

an angle.  When I opened the door Sandra's cuffed hands were just

inches from her daughter's taped lips.  They "looked" my way and I

could smell the fear in the room.  Even if they had managed to get

Becky's gag off I doubted it would have done much good.  Still this

provided me with an excuse to have some fun.



"You know," I said leaning in the doorway, "I sense a punishment

coming on."



First part of the punishment was to force them to strip.  One at a

time I unbound them but left them gagged.  Then at gun point I forced

them to strip.  I put on the radio and made them remove each piece of

clothing one piece at a time whilst gyrating to the music.

Unfortunately JoJo still had the mask, it would have been even more

fun to have the other watch the degrading spectacle.  Strangely Becky

didn't seem to mind as much and I wondered if she'd done this before,

perhaps for a boyfriend or a few extra bucks?  When each was naked I

rebound them tighter than before.  I admit that in tying them my hand

may have strayed a little but only when absolutely necessary.  Still

their embarrassment seemed to improve their behavior.  I've found that

slaves are much more manageable when they're naked, it puts them at a

psychological disadvantage.



Next I decided to separate them.  Sandra I wanted near a phone in case

someone called.  The answering machine had worked well during the

daytime, and I'd still use it to screen calls but it seemed Sandra was

part of the local PTA.  I didn't want someone to call around

personally because they couldn't get though on the phone.



However Becky was a pest and it struck me that keeping them separate

would discourage any further mischief.  Leaving Sandra tied to a chair

in the living room I toted Becky over my shoulder and took her

upstairs.  I'd had a good excuse for Amy had we met but it proved

unnecessary as JoJo had managed to tire her out and the girl was

napping.



I bound Becky spread eagle to her bed.  She, of course, struggled

seeing what this allowed me to do.  However the new cord I'd bought

from the hardware store proved more than a match for her and soon she

was helplessly spread.  She had a fine athletic body and was quite a

sportswoman if the medals in the living room were to be believed.  Her

breasts were small but pert, nipples a dark chocolatey brown.  Of

course I *had* to do a nipple test to check the gag was still secure

and it only seemed right to rub them better afterwards.



"Quite a gymnast aren't we?"  I asked, "Well for you we have a special

punishment."  Blindfolded now by pieces of surgical tape which I used

to seal her eyelids closed she could only imagine what I meant.  I

deliberately undid my belt and zipper allowing her imagination to take

full effect.  But I had something more devious in mind.



I signaled JoJo to come over.



I pointed at the helpless girl and whispered, "You will pleasure this

slave with your mouth," I ordered, "She is to be kept on the edge but

not allowed to cum.  Is that clear?"



JoJo nodded, it was a common request that formed part of her training.

Becky gave a muffled squeal at the first touch of JoJo's tongue but

soon she was groaning into her gag and attempting to force her cunt

into the girl's face.  Periodically JoJo would switch her attention to

breasts or thighs allowing the sensation to diminish a little.  In

just a few minutes Becky began to experience the sweet agony she would

be in for the next few hours.



Satisfied I went downstairs.  I'd taped Sandra to a kitchen chair and

placed her near the phone.  Like her daughter she was blindfolded with

surgical tape but she was still gagged with Doc's patented penis gag.

She was still quite young, so she must have been very young when she

had Becky.  Her figure had recovered well from two children and the

sight of her bound naked to a chair was giving me quite a hardon.

Gently I reached out and stroked my gloved hand over her exposed

nipple.  She stiffened, a faint tremble fluttering through her breast.

The nipples hardened immediately and she groaned.  Then bending down

she rubbed her gagged mouth against my hand.



"Ok, I'll take it out, but it goes back when *I* say.  Try anything

stupid and not only you will suffer, understand?"



She nodded so I removed the gag but left it dangling around her neck.



"Where's Becky?" She asked.



"Upstairs keeping my friend company," I said, "I thought it better to

separate you after last time."



She licked her lips.  "Why did you make us strip?"  She asked

nervously.  There was a tension in the air a nervousness that I found

a great turn on.  Working for Doc I can have my pick of young pussy.

These days most of the girls I fuck are half my age.  There was

something about seeing an older woman helpless like this that did

something to me.  Perhaps it was because she could have been the girl

I dated at school..  Perhaps surrounded by plenty my palette has got a

little jaded.  Perhaps a change is as good as a rest.



I kissed her neck, she flinched a little.



"You tell me?"  I said as I continued to nibble the nape.  She gasped

a little and I watched as her nipples started to harden.



"Do...do you intend to.....  rape us."  She gasped.  I moved up to her

ear flicking my tongue against the lobe, feeling the heat radiating

from her naked body.  It amused me, mother and daughter, both turned

on and helpless.  I decided to play some more.



"Haven't decided," I said teasing, "Though that daughter of yours is

quite a temptation.  It's been a while since I've had pussy as fresh

as that."



I watched her stiffen, her worse fears confirmed.  I'd expected her to

get indignant but as I brought my hand up to caress her breast I felt

her body tremble.  "Y....you can have me, but please leave my daughter

alone."



"What do you mean have you?"  I asked gently stroking her inner thigh.

Blindfolded by the tape she was unable to predict when and where I'd

touch next.  As I brushed against her belly I got an involuntary moan

and her body stiffened.  I gently ran my gloved fingers through her

brush and found it wet.



"So damp so soon. What was it you were saying?"



She fought to focus, "I....  oh ...I'll fuck you willingly....  just

leave her alone.  Please."  The last word was a plea but what for I

wasn't sure.  Was it the mother protecting her young or a horny woman

being teased to distraction?  I meant to find out.



"And suppose I don't like it willingly, " I asked rolling one of her

nipples in my gloved fingers.  She gasped sucked in a huge breath

intent on getting her offer out before she lost her will completely.



"Then I'll do whatever you want, resist, not resist.  I'll sign a

statement saying I'm doing it willingly.  That it's not rape.  You

could use it in court if the catch you....Oh.....Please"



I took one of her breasts in one hand, fingered her exposed pussy with

the other.  "Let me tell you what I think.  I think you want to be

fucked.  You may think you're selflessly sacrificing yourself for your

daughter but you want it don't you?"



She gasped but stayed silent.



"All you have to do is ask.  To make it simple I promise not to rape

your daughter no matter what your decision.  If you want it just ask,

if not just say no."  I realized that I'd placed her in a dilemma,

that before she could always rationalize her needs by saying that

she'd surrendered to save her daughter.  Now she had to face the

truth."



"Please......" I upped the tempo on my teasing.



"All you have to say is please fuck me."



"Please ......fuck....me."



I smiled, I'd been intent in having at least one of these cunts beg me

to fuck her before Doc got here.  So the winner had been Sandra, of

course I'd make her pay a high price and I always had her daughter for

seconds.



I cut Sandra free of the chair and laid her on the couch.  Her hands

were still bound and the gag hung round her neck in easy reach.  I

started were I'd left off teasing and nibbling probably putting more

foreplay into a single session than most men use in a lifetime.  Her

body trembled as it betrayed her mind, then he mind was washed away

too.  I whispered things in her ear things she had to say if she

wanted be to continue.  They were horrible degrading things, things

members of the PTA never say, and she repeated them happily willing to

sound like a whore if it got her a little closer to that orgasm.  I

got her to shout them unconcerned about the neighbors, "Oh please

Master fuck this whore" not being the same as "help murder".  When I

thought she was ready I slipped on a rubber and pushed my way in.



It was........  different.........  Eight years of young, tight pussy

can spoil a man and of course she hadn't been taught those little Thai

whore tricks that Doc's girls know.  Still she had a certain

enthusiasm, following my lead and screaming obscenities as I fucked

her brains out.  She came three times each more powerful than the last

then I let myself go filling the rubber until I thought it would

burst.



We lay there recovering and I wondered were Doc was.  I figured if he

wasn't here in half an hour I'd look in on young Becky.  Of course I'd

promised her mother I wouldn't rape her but I had no doubts that the

girl would be out of her mind by now, willing to beg anyone or

anything to fuck her.  Of course if she begs then it's hardly rape....

I looked at Sandra as she panted on the couch.



Who knows I might let her watch.........











From tmquin@ibm.net Fri Apr 18 20:10:47 1997

From: tmquin@ibm.net (The Mighty Quin)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage

Subject: NEW:Doc's Orders: Chap5 "The Devil and Ms Fisher" (M/fff NC B&D)

Date: Sat, 19 Apr 1997 00:10:47 GMT

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************************************************************

                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER

                                     ===================



The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and

has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet.  If it

is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the

author.



All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons

living or dead is purely coincidental.  The author does not

necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this

story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.



Quin 1997

tmquin@ibm.net

************************************************************



                            Doc's Orders  by Quin

                            ==================



Chapter 5  "The Devil and Ms Fisher"

===========================



There came a knock on the door.  Sandra gasped but she was screamed

out, I gagged her with a practiced motion.  I went to the window and

glanced outside.  I saw Kitten in a pair of white overalls and a

baseball cap rocking on her heels.  Quickly I went down the hall and

opened the door.



She smiled, "Someone order an exterminator?"



"Cute," I said, "You took your time."



"An hour and twenty minutes including picking up this nifty disguise."

She said, moving through the house like a whirlwind.



"Ok," I said getting down to business, "One in here, one in there, two

upstairs.  The younger kid's got some kind of problem.  Seems to have

a mental age of five or six.  We've kept them blindfolded since we got

here except for the kid.  We left her free and just wore masks around

her.  Where's Doc?"



"Be here in about an hour. He didn't trust my helicopter flying."



"You fly choppers?"



She shrugged, "Doesn't everybody."



Smug bitch.



Kitten went into the living room and checked on Sandra noting her damp

pussy and the discarded rubber.



"Have been busy haven't we?"  Reaching over she tightened Sandra's gag

then reaching into her pocket she pulled out a pair of handcuffs which

she used to secure the helpless woman's feet.



We checked quickly on Myra then I led her upstairs.  JoJo's face was

covered in Becky's juices.  The younger girl was begging for release

behind her gag.



"My you *have* been busy," Kitten said, "Planning a double header were

you?  Mother and daughter?"



"Whatever happened to *Master*" I moaned, "You called me master

yesterday."



Kitten looked at me, "Come now, we both know it's just a curtesy

title.  Doc is my only master.  Besides since yesterday *You* have

been my slave in waiting and I figure until that's resolved it makes

us equal."



Climbing onto the bed Kitten peeled the tape from Becky's lips then

pulled the sodden towel free.



"Hello slave."



"W...who are you," Becky gasped.



"You may call me Mistress and the only thing that you need to know

right now is that I decide when or if you cum."



"Please....."



"Call that begging, if you want to cum I'm sure you can do better than

that."



"Please....let me cum."



"Please what?"



"P...please Mistress L...let me cum."



"Better," Kitten said.  Reaching into her pocket she pulled out

another of Doc's gags which she forced into the girl's unresisting

mouth.  This she padlocked in place.  Then she turned to JoJo.



"Finish her off then untie her and help her downstairs.  She isn't to

remove the blindfold.  Understand?"



"Yes Mistress."



"Good girl!"



Kitten turned to me, "Right, lets get this thing under control shall

we."



She stripped out of the overalls to reveal a nicely tailored business

suit.  I found myself getting hard again.  I suppose I've liked a

woman who can power dress since the Marines.



We started to clean up, disposing of anything that linked us to the

place.  Ray, another recruiter I'd worked with from time to time,

appeared at the door with a large tank on wheels.  It had a giant

roach on the side and I figured it was part of their exterminator

cover.



"What's this?" I asked



"Slave transporter, so we can take them out without being spotted.

Give me a hand."  She the lid off and showed me the padded interior.

There was just about enough room for a body inside.



It took some effort but eventually we managed to cram Myra into the

tank.  I watched as Ray wheeled her to the van.



I took Kitten to one side, "Look, Can't we just leave them tied up or

something.  Do we HAVE to recruit them?"



"Do I see a twinge of conscience?  The suggestion that you might just

let two prime recruits go?"



I looked uncomfortable.



"These people are a security risk you must see that.  I admit I feel

sorry for the little girl but I'm afraid your two naked playmates have

got to go."



By now JoJo was leading Becky downstairs.  The girl seemed drained and

unresisting.  JoJo had already fastened Becky's hands behind her with

the leather cuffs so after forcing her down onto the couch with her

mother we only needed to cuff her ankles.



The two Fisher women squirmed, aware of each other's presence.  The

smell of sweat and damp pussy clung to them, each knew what had

happened to the other."



Then Doc arrived.  Compared to the whirlwind that was Kitten he

appeared almost subtly.



He was dressed in a business suit with an overcoat, this silver hair

and beard impeccably groomed.  He looked for all the world like

someone's rich grandfather.



"Ah Charles my boy."



I winced, a whole day of maintaining cover blown.  Silently I

indicated the two naked women tied on the couch.



"Ah yes this must be the delightful Ms Sandra Fisher and her daughter

Rebecca."  He said it as if they had just been introduced at the

Queen's garden party.  The girls wiggled a little and Sandra tried to

say something.



"Charles, were are your manners, free these young ladies at once.

Kitten I assume that there are suitable clothes somewhere in the house

please get some straight away."



I looked at Kitten but she just shrugged.  I helped Doc free the

Fishers.



Sandra blinked finally seeing again for the first time in hours.

Seeing Doc she tried to cover herself.



"Please my dear young lady do not trouble yourself.  I can assure you

that you have nothing to be ashamed of."



"Wh.....who are you?" she asked.



"Mouth a little dry?  Charles get these two young ladies a drink."



I found some cans in the refrigerator and brought them in.



"My friends call me Doc and I'm sorry to say that this young roughian

works for me.  So you see any inconvenience that he has caused you is

entirely my fault.  Please accept my apologies."



Sandra sat down eyeing Doc doubtfully.  However she seemed to feel a

little better when a few minutes later Kitten appeared with some

clothes.  Despite the fact that I'd seen them both naked, hell I made

them strip in the first place, Doc made me look away as they got

dressed.



Sandra was starting to feel a little more secure something Doc

shattered a moment latter.



"Rebecca my dear, please go with my assistant here and do as she say's

she will need your help with your sister."



"Amy! My god where's Amy?"



"Upstairs asleep," I told her, "She's having a little nap."



Doc smiled, "Now Sandra, we must take your daughter's away for a

while.  Not long I assure you.  While they are gone I'm sure that I

can count on your complete cooperation."



"If I don't you'll hurt my girls!" Sandra cried pretty close to

hysteria.



"Not at all," Doc gave her a hard look, a look that scares even me.



"I won't lie to you Sandra.  I could take your daughters and ensure

that they spend the rest of their lives giving blow jobs in a Mexican

brothel.  It is perfectly possible for me and my associates to erase

your family without trace and ensure that no one will ever look for

you.  I could do all that and worse, but I won't.  The reason that

your daughters must leave is that I am expecting a group of armed men

to attack this house later tonight.  Those men have been told to kill

everyone inside and to hunt down any survivors.  I believe that I have

taken all necessary precautions but why risk your daughters lives?

Two of my men will transport them to your sister's in Maine and leave

them with her.



Sandra was stunned.



"You see Sandra the reason my young friend was forced to detain you

this morning is that he and the two young ladies were running for

their lives.  These men have already killed an associate of mine, a

friend for over thirty years, a faithful husband, loving grandfather.

A man who served your country well through some of it's darkest hours.

When you get to my age it seems that you spend most of your days

attending funerals.  Usually you can look back and say that at least

the chap had a good innings but in this case my friend had a good few

overs left to play.  I feel a righteous indignation that can only be

soothed by a most terrible revenge.  Ah here's the tea.  Kitten will

you be mother?"



Kitten poured the tea and I watched Sandra's face.  Thirty minutes ago

she'd been tied up on a couch getting (I hope) the best fucking of her

life.  Now she was trying to come to terms with this.



"So who are you, the government?" Sandra asked.



"It would be safe to say that we have all worked for your government

from time to time but not at the moment.  At least not in an

*OFFICIAL* capacity," Doc said, "In this case it is my belief that

your government will find itself well served by our modest efforts

here today."



"But these men....."



"I would like you to stay and assist us in this matter."  Doc said,

"If you wish there is still time to take you to your sister's with the

children.  However if you stay then my organization is willing to pay

you the sum of one hundred and thirty seven thousand, seven hundred

and thirty one dollars.  In case you are not aware that is the

outstanding balance on the mortgage for this house."



"But how..."



"I know a lot about you Sandra.  I know about your husband Gerard, how

the stress of raising a child with Amy's special needs broke up your

marriage.  I even spoke with Dr.  Linz not an hour ago about young

Amy's condition.  I realize that since the divorce you have been

making caretaker payments on the mortgage, paying the interest only

not the principle and I realize that even that takes nearly two thirds

of your available income.  What I offer is a way out of the poverty

trap for you and your daughters, all you have to do is assist my

associates and keep quiet about ALL that happened here today."



"And the men?"



"We intend to kill them Sandra.  Make no mistake, if you stay you will

be an accessory to that act.  Punishable by the full weight of the

law."



I could see her considering it but the result was a foregone

conclusion.  If what Doc said was true she and her daughters would be

out on the streets within a year.  He was offering her a way out and

all he wanted in return was a part of her soul.



She looked up, "What do you want me to do."



.... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . 



Sandra moaned into her gag as I thrust in.  This time there was even

more of a thrill probably because we both realized this could be our

last fuck ever.  It hadn't been easy for Sandra to allow herself to be

tied up again, especially knowing the dangers.  It would mean that she

would be completely helpless when it happened.



I thrust in again.  Still she was making the best of a bad job, they

say danger is an aphrodisiac and Sandra was certainly hot tonight.

She was on her second orgasm and I was building nicely towards mine

when I suddenly saw her lust filled eyes open with alarm.



I heard a click next to my ear.



"So, Charles isn't it?  I must say you fellows take your work

seriously.  Do you just walk around tying up every woman you meet?"

The Yuppies voice was still as irritating as ever.



"S...Something like that," I said and came.  After all there was no

point in wasting it.



"Put your hand's on your head and stand."

I stood and he nodded me towards the kitchen then he reached down and

dragged Sandra to her feet.



"I must say you led us quite a chase.  Toby will be so glad we found

you.  When he gets out of hospital."



"How is Toby?" I asked.



"As well as a man with two crushed legs can be."



"Ouch, I hope you'll tell him it was nothing personal."  I said.  By

now we were in the hall.  As arranged Sandra kept falling back forcing

him to keep pushing her forward.  I on the other hand moved a little

ahead.  The idiot looked like a broker not a gunman and I hoped he

didn't realize what we were doing.  His eyes kept sliding over

Sandra's body.  Down her flanks to her freshly shaved pussy.  I saw

the bulge in his trousers that showed he was distracted.  That would

make it easier.



" How did you find us, by the way?"  I asked, "You must realize my

people will be here soon."



He laughed, "I don't think so.  Want to know why."  He pushed me

forwards giving me an extra impetus that carried me even further from

him.  The Yuppie Bitch Queen and two men stood in the kitchen and sat

in a chair hands cuffed, mouth taped over, was Alison.



"Shit!" I said.



The Yuppie smiled.  "Your message was still on her machine when we

arrived.  She hadn't made it home you see because we decided to have a

chat with her first."  He tilted her face up and I could see the

bruises.  "As you can see she wasn't very cooperative.  If you hadn't

called we wouldn't have found you."



"What do you want?"



He smiled, "Joanne and especially that little tart Myra.  I've got to

pay that little bitch back."



"Then what?"



"No witnesses, nothing to connect us with any of this."



He turned to the goons, "You two look for them."



They found JoJo bound and gagged in the den and pushed her through to

the kitchen.



The Yuppie Bitch Queen licked her lips.  "I don't suppose we have time

for a quickie do we darling?  Joanne has such a wonderful technique it

would be a shame to miss out."



The Yuppie smiled, "Perhaps latter after I've dealt with Myra.  He

looked Sandra over, "Tell me *Charles* how well does your new toy suck

dick."  "Not still painful then?"  I asked innocently.



"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find out," He said, "I think we and the

ladies will have a bit of a party before we leave.  Unfortunately as

you ruined our last one you'll not be invited."



The two goons were dragging Myra downstairs.  She was kicking and

making gagged noises from beneath a pillowcase I'd used as a hood.



"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what all this is about?" I

asked.



He laughed, "Like in the movies.  Real life isn't like that I'm

afraid.  All you need to know is that you fucked with the wrong

people."



Myra was pushed into the room.  Being blindfolded she staggered a bit

finally coming to rest against a wall.



One of the goons walked over and pulled off the pillowcase.  They were

expecting Myra, they were disappointed.



"Peekaboo," Kitten said.



The goon was stunned and a second later he was dead.  Kitten's hand

flew up the heel striking the man's nose at a lethally precise angle.

On cue Sandra threw herself to one side crushing the Yuppies gun arm

against the door frame.  The angle was such he couldn't hit anything.

Desperately he tried to push the naked woman away.  Realizing that she

was literally fighting for her life he hit her in return I hit him,

hard.  The second goon was so confused having seen "Myra" turn out to

be another woman, and that woman then kill his partner that he didn't

do anything for a while.  Just about the time he started thinking

again Ken shot him with a silenced 38.



"What the....."  The Yuppie Bitch Queen started to say but seeing

Ken's gun she kept quiet.



I set about freeing the women.



Doc came in all smiles, "My dear children what a wonderful success.

Sandra my dear a wonderful performance, Kitten as outstanding as ever.

Alison..."  He went over to where Alison was rubbing her wrists.

"....My dear we couldn't have done it without you.  The risk

involved..."



"They killed Sam, Doc what was I supposed to do.  If they killed me so

what?"



"Now don't start talking like that, Sam wouldn't like it."  It was a

common syndrome with slaves dedicated to one master, they frequently

became listless even suicidal when the man died.  I looked over at

her.



"Alison, I spoke to Connie.  She'd like to meet you, perhaps have you

over to stay...."  This seemed to cheer her somewhat especially the

idea of meeting Sam's kids for the first time.  I didn't say anything

but Sam's eldest was about Alison's age and shared some of his fathers

"interests".  Perhaps there were some possibilities there.



I looked around the kitchen.  Kitten had started handcuffing the

Yuppie couple.  JoJo put the kettle on for tea.  Sandra was in the

utility room getting dressed . Ray and Ken were outside seeing if

there were any more out there.



A few minutes latter we were all a little more relaxed.  Sandra was

wearing clothes again and the "Exterminator" had dealt with the dead

bodies.  The Yuppie couple were taped to kitchen chairs.



"Now can someone please tell me what is going on!!" I asked.



Doc smiled gave Sandra a funny look then said, "It all started a

couple of months ago Charles when you were in London.  Sam came to me

with a commission.  Apparently a woman named Myra McTaggart who worked

for a well known New York bank had been found with her fingers in the

till.  As I explained before she had blackmailed the bank into

dropping the issue or risk damaging publicity.  Sam said that the

bank's directors wanted revenge and could we process her straight

away."



"You told me this before," I said, "And the story has more holes than

the Titanic."



"Just so, but Sam had received his request from an excellent source, a

VP of the bank."  Doc looked at the Yuppie, "And he was about to marry

the bank president's daughter."  Doc glanced at the Yuppie Bitch

Queen.



"So we picked Myra up and of course we were interested in discovering

just where she had hidden the money.  She seemed strangely reluctant

to talk despite Kitten's persuasions and while we were pondering this

Sam got a second request.  Apparently Myra's PA was asking unfortunate

questions threatening going to the police etc.  Obviously she couldn't

remain at liberty.  So of course we picked her up too.  Even before

she arrived at my place this strange request about a weird lesbian

show had been passed to Sam.  Even then I was curious enough to have

Sam start to do some checking, when I saw the girl my suspicions were

confirmed."



"Why?" I asked.



"Because Joanne is my God daughter."



My mind boggled, who in their right mind would make Doc their kid's

godfather?



"You see I knew her grandfather whilst I was working on a project call

MKULTRA just after the war.  He was in military intelligence like Sam.

When Joanne was born she had learning problems and though our research

was secret he asked if I could use some of it to help her.  Well I did

and over the years I've kept in touch.  So of course when she gets

delivered to my place it is a bit of a shock.  When we discuss things

and we realize what must have really happened.  You see Myra had

suspected that the Bank was being used to do illegal fund transfers

and had started an investigation.  She gave Joanne the job of

researching the banks files to find an audit trail.  They discovered

that whoever was doing all of this must be on the board as only they

had the authority.  Myra needed the help of the bank's president in

order to get the power she needed to audit further.  As the president

was hard to reach, she decided to go via his daughter and told her the

whole story.  The daughter agreed to help but the price was most

unusual.  It turn's out that the daughter was not such a pure thing as

she led people to believe.  There was a sexual price Myra would have

to pay to get to her father.  Myra refused, even made the mistake of

suggesting that Daddy would not be pleased when he found out.  Up

until then Myra had been discrete about her investigation.  Then

suddenly our man gets word on what she is doing.  He sets up evidence

of embezzlement pointing to Myra to cover the deficiencies in the

books and had us pick her up."



"Why not just kill her?"



"Charles dear boy, this is an unstarched white collar criminal,

meaning he can't stand up for himself.  He didn't have the guts to do

his own dirty work.  He realized that if Myra disappeared the blame

would be placed on her.  He moved in the kinds of circles most our

clients do and had heard whispers.  Besides Myra was hunting him, it

had become personal, the advantage with using us is that afterwards he

and his lover could use her as their personal toy.  Later after Myra

was picked up he realized that the real threat was Joanne.  By the

time Joanne and I worked this out Myra was in a critical condition, if

we took it further she would be permanently destroyed.  So we decided

to keep her disorientated and teach her a few tricks.  We had a plan

but it would require Joanne to do a number of unsavory things.  We

tried but she simply couldn't do it.  So finally she agreed to the

creation of a shell personality.  Something temporary that would sit

on top of her own for a few days and would be able to do what was

needed, and that's how JoJo was born.



My plan was to deliver the slaves as agreed and to catch our VP in the

act so to speak.  Unfortunately two things went wrong.  First our VP

got word that Sam was asking questions.  He realized that if he killed

Sam, the girls and whoever delivered them there would be nothing to

connect any of this together.  So he hired some muscle from one of the

more disreputable executive protection agencies and had the time of

the party moved forward.  He and his lover planned a night of the long

knives, to get you all on the same night.  They picked Sam up when you

were on the road and we didn't know until it was too late.



The second thing to go wrong was that you arrived too early.  I'd made

arrangements to have some of our people there for backup.  A couple of

slaves had been prepared to be found in a compromising position with

our VP.  All was set but then you went in early...."



I winced. "Why didn't you tell me?"



"It had to look natural, he wasn't to suspect until it was too late.

We had thought he would come alone, that we could take him stick him

in bed with a couple of whores and threaten to send the pictures to

his prospective father in law.  Of course we never thought that his

fiancee would turn out to be such a shameless hedonist, I was shocked

when I realized, they are such a good family...."



"When things went wrong all I could think about was that you'd kill

the slaves as we'd agreed.  Then I discovered Sam was dead and it

became very personal.  When you called I was with Alison.  I realized

immediately that if they didn't have you then we still stood a chance.

Alison agreed to be bait.  You see to protect his family Sam never

used his own ID when in New York he worked from a small office and

none of his clients knew his real name.  They killed him before you

slipped through their fingers, the police report suggested that they

made no attempt to get any information from him.  It seemed reasonable

therefore that once they lost you the only link they'd have would be

the office.  I arranged that Alison would go over, deliberately get

caught if you like.  Then when they went to her place to follow up

they would find the message I had you record."



"So Myra and Joanne are going to be deprogrammed."



" Joanne is of course.  I would have liked to have kept Myra but

Joanne is attached to her so I suppose we'll have to fix her."



"How will you explain her being away for so long?"



"Well," Kitten said, "We usually make them think that they've been

abducted by aliens."



"Aliens, Them? Who's them??"



Doc rolled his eyes, "I'm afraid our little Kitten is becoming a bit

of a practical joker.  I'll explain later."



Just then Ray and Ken came back.  "We found their van and disposed of

a couple of extra's.  We'll use it when we dispose of the bodies."

Ken said.



"Very good dear boy.  Do try and divert attention elsewhere.  Use the

Crack powder sparingly.  Remember, just enough to leave a trace.  We

want the police to find a drug connection but don't make them

suspicious.  After all they're slow not stupid.""



Doc turned to Sandra.  "So my dear, you know a little more about us

now."



"Y.....you're white slavers???"  She asked still trying to come to

terms with it all.



Doc looked shocked, "I assure you we have no color preferences.

Besides "White Slaver" is such a Victorian term.  It conjures images

of virtuous white women at the mercy of dirty Arabs.  Oh no we're

nothing like that."



A look of horror spread across her face, "My God you have my

daughters."



Doc shook his head, "Your sister in Maine has your daughters, flown

there by private plane.  I think Amy will be thrilled.  Has she ever

flown in a small plane before?"



Sandra shook her head.



"Wonderful child Amy, Dr.  Linz and I spoke about her case at length.

She has Prosov's Syndrome I believe?"



"Yes........"



"Brilliant man Prosov, told really wonderful dirty jokes.  Stalin had

him purged you know, too independent."



Doc paused, "Sandra, my organization has lost a valued member and a

good friend.  While no one can replace Sam his death has left an

opening in our corporate structure that I feel you can fill."



"Me?  Kidnap girls and.......  How do you think I could do that.  I'm

a Mother....."



Doc smiled, "I think you can do it precisely because you are a mother

and because you want the best for your daughters.  The house is yours

as we agreed, the bank will confirm that the mortgage has been paid.

That is payment for your work tonight and for keeping silent on the

things that happened today.  Remember as far as the courts are

concerned you are an accessory to two murders so keeping things quiet

is in all our interests.  If you accept my offer we will set you up in

business.  Real Estate seems promising, we will buy you a franchise

which will make you the senior partner.  As it grows it will generate

more than enough income to keep Rebecca in private school and pay for

college.  You'll also have enough free time to look after our other

business.  Don't worry we will train you and provide suitable staff."



"I...but.."



"Please, you haven't heard the most substantial part of my offer.  You

see I knew Prosov, knew him well.  We collaborated before his

government intervened, we were both interested in the same things you

see, the structures of the mind and the mechanics of learning.  I can

offer you something no one else can ever offer you.  I can cure Amy.

I can get her mental age back to her physical age in less than six

months.  Push her IQ back to normal and perhaps beyond."



"They said it's incurable....."



"They said man would never fly, that the Earth was flat, that if a man

traveled at over thirty miles an hour air pressure would crush him.

I'll prove it to you.  Kitten?  Sandra do you have a calculator?"  She

pointed to the kitchen draw.  Doc dug it out and gave it to her.  "

Good now work out a sum, any sum and then ask Kitten."



"Errm.... Yes....Ok What's 273159 divided by I dunno 123?"



" 2220 point 804 how many decimals did you want?" Kitten asked smugly.



Sandra tried three more in most cases the limiting factor was her

calculator as Kitten gave more decimals than she could verify.



Doc smiled, "Six months, that's just enough time for you to setup the

business.  If you can't see an improvement before then you can keep

the business with my blessing and forget about us.  If Amy improves

then you work for me.  Believe me your conscience is not as big a

problem as you believe."



"And what if Amy improves and I don't work for you? What if I cheat."



Doc smiled, "You won't."



"Agreed then?" He asked.



"Agreed," She said.



"Well I must ask you to do one ceremonial duty to celebrate our new

arrangement."



He handed Sandra a padded gag and pointed as the Yuppie Bitch Queen.

She seeing what was coming tried to move her head away but Kitten

stopped her.



"Gag that slave."



Sandra reached forward and pushed the penis mouthpiece into the girl's

mouth then tightened the straps.



A cheer went up and a deal was made.



And it only cost one soul.





    THE END