GEETWO STORIES - PAGE 037
- SCOOP!!! -
Inspired by the art of Alazar
Six months of intensive undercover work had led pretty, twenty-eight-year-old freelance reporter, Chris C ... to the head of the gang of white-slavers who were responsible for kidnapping and shipping a steady stream of European women to the harems and dungeons of wealthy clients in the Middle and Far East. It was a remarkably dedicated and determined piece of investigative journalism that deserved to earn its author the highest praise and a place in the ranks of newspaper scoops of all time.
Sadly for her, it didn’t seem that it was going to happen. At the very last hurdle, the point towards which she had been working so hard, and when the final piece of the complex jigsaw of false trails and dummy companies had led her to the man who ran the whole operation, her concealed tape-recorder strapped high up on her left thigh, had developed a fault and begun to play-back in a high-pitched squeal of electronic insanity ....
Face-to-face with her in his opulent office and flanked by his muscular bodyguards, he had instantly realised what the noise meant. Before she had time to react to the machine’s betrayal, his order had had her seized and stripped to reveal all too clearly what she had been doing.
The revealed tape-recorder left her with no possible way of convincing him of her innocence. The guards overpowered her frantic struggles, then her limbs were locked into heavy steel cuffs linked by thick chains that prevented her from lifting her hands higher than her waist or parting her ankles by more than a foot.
Helplessly chained and clad only in garter-belt, stockings and high heels, she couldn’t stop him forcing her mouth open and wedging a huge ball-gag between her jaws and as she was silenced, he laughed cruelly and told her that as she was obviously so keen to find out all about his white-slave operation, he would give her the opportunity to discover everything there was to know, from the inside ... when he sold her and she was delivered to her new owner ...
It would be a unique scoop, he chuckled, a guaranteed, Pulitzer prize-winning story; provided, of course, that she was ever able to file it with a newspaper. That, though, would prove to be rather difficult, for she would spend the rest of her life as a chained sex-slave in the dungeons of her Master ... trapped in a living nightmare. And, it would made worse by her knowledge that she was just another of the many women that had been kidnapped, chained then smuggled out of the country to become helpless sex-slaves to wealthy Eastern men.
Outnumbered and outweighed, Chris nevertheless tried to resist while she was dragged away, but she was no match for the bodyguards and soon found herself chained to a heavy ring bolted to the wall in the cellars under the building. There she stayed until they returned for her and stated that she had been purchased by a Turkish businessman as a reward for his nineteen-year-old son who had won a place at University.
Her horror at that news paled to insignificance when they added that he had specified that her nose was to be pierced and ringed and her left breast branded with the number 02 to show that he was rich enough to own more than one slave. She didn’t want to believe that such awful things would be done to her, but the casual way they spoke, told her that they could ... and would ...
Three weeks later a thick steel ring was welded in place through the newly-pierced hole in her septum and a red-hot iron seared the number into the upper slope of her breast, then she was delivered to her new owner. With a round wooden pole wedged between her elbows and back; her wrists locked in heavy manacles linked by a chain across her belly and ankles cuffed and joined by another short chain with a ball-gag stuffed into her mouth, she trembled in horror when the door of the van was swung open to reveal her branded, nose-pierced nudity.
Waiting for her were two men, one in his forties, one in his late teens, and two younger boys perhaps fifteen or sixteen. She saw their eyes gleam at the sight of her blonde hair, full breasts and long, slim legs and moaned in despair, trying to conceal her body from their hard, lust filled gaze. Even knowing that she had been sold as a slave, Chris had still harboured a faint hope that her new Owner ... presumably the younger man ... would be less harsh and ruthless than her original captors, but he strode to her while producing a length of chain, then clipped it to her nose-ring and gave a cruel yank. Chris howled in pain and was forced to stumble forward on her high heels, out into the full glare of blazing sunshine, her last hope crumbling to dust when he paraded her up and down in front of his grinning companions.
She knew then, that she was going to be a slave for the rest of her life and while her young Master dragged her over to the older man and the two boys, her eyes filled with tears of misery and anguish when her hopelessly vulnerable body was subjected to an humiliating inspection that she could do nothing to prevent. She could not even understand what they were saying about her ... but it was only too obvious that they were pleased by what they could see and that all ... even the younger two ... were aroused and excited by her helplessness.
“My son is delighted by my gift to him, slave.” the older man said, surprising her with his excellent English. “He wishes me to tell you that he expects you to serve perfectly. You would be wise to do so! He, like his father, does not look kindly on a slave who fails to be fully pleasing.”
Her eyes widened and she gulped at the unspoken threat, then shuddered in appalled misery when he chuckled cruelly.
“You are no longer in the West now, slave, and you will soon find that, unlike other men you have known, we have never forgotten how to train a woman to obey and give exquisite pleasure to her Masters. That is a lesson my sons and I will enjoy teaching you, and you will learn it quickly or suffer for your failings. That I promise you.”
He watched her tremble when his words sank home, then nodded to his eldest son and the young man tugged on the chain to her nose-ring and began to lead her into the large house where she was to begin her involuntary servitude and he called after her.
“Study well slave, for although my first-born son will leave for University when the winter comes, his brothers will still be here, ready and eager to continue your training in the arts of love. As will I.”
His cruel laughter rang in her ears while she was led away in her slave-chains and, as the world of freedom and independence she had once enjoyed, was left far behind ... never to be regained ... she wept at the thought that one day, far away, in the life that was lost to her forever, some other reporter would perhaps find the notes and evidence she had so painstakingly accumulated. Perhaps her efforts would be used to write the prize-winning story that would earn him, or her, the praise, respect and envy that should have been hers ... the scoop she had so nearly succeeded in getting, but now never would. Instead of exposing the shocking truth about kidnappings, white-slavery gangs, chains, whips and the enforced sexual subjugation of helpless women, she had become nothing more than a statistic in her own story.
It was a story that, for her, had become horrifying reality, for she was and would always be, a slave ...