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From: tmquin@NS_attglobal.net (Thomas M Quin)
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Vanishing Point Part 12 (M/ff, NC B and D)
Date: Thu, 12 Jul 2001 03:10:04 -0400
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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.
The authors explicitly prohibits.
1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form.
2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express
permission.
3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the
written permission of the author.
This work is copyright TM Quin and timidt 2000
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.
Timid and Quin 2000
timidt@hotmail.com tmquin@attglobal.net
*****************************************************************
Vanishing Point Part 12 (Ben)
===================================
"Oh, God, Please....you can't. I'll do anything...pay you
anything. Just no...you can't put me in there. Oh, god no...you
can't. I can't. Please...oh, god please...." Liz flashed me
another pleading look, I started to regret removing her gag.
I sighed, rolled my eyes a little, gave her all those unspoken
indications that the conversation was over. She ignored me.
"Please," she started but I'd had enough of her moaning it was
time she realized just what her place was.
"Enough!" I said, letting my tone cut through her whining. "I
am *Master* here slave. Understand that? When I order
something, then that is what happens."
She licked her lips, thought for a moment, then lowered her
eyes in a perfect picture of submission. "P....please Master,
this slave will do whatever you demand." She was good, I'll
give her that, if Plan A didn't work she would slip seamlessly
into Plan B. She was going to make some lucky guy an
exceptional plaything.
It was obvious that the box really worried her. I'd seen a lot
of reactions over the years ranging from intense anger to a
bitter acceptance of an uncontrollable fate. Yet at no time had
any woman been so determined to avoid the box at any cost. If
you'd told me that morning that Elizabeth would be calling me
Master before the end of the day I'd have laughed. In fact, if
I'd been a betting man I'd have laid odds that it would have
taken at least a whipping to get the proper respect from the
little cunt. Even then I'd have figured it would have taken
half a dozen lashes before she decided to play ball.
Reaching forwards I played with her naked breasts. She flinched
a little, but it was obvious she was trying to control her
reaction. She thrust her little titty into my hand, letting my
fingers play over the nipple. I raised an eyebrow. This was
another unexpected and interesting reaction, I wondered how far
she would go. As if she was reading my thoughts little Liz
blushed a bright crimson.
"Y.... you could tie me to the bed instead Master," she begged,
" like last night." She blushed deeper. "Then I'd be ......"
she swallowed, "available for you." She looked down at her
tangled mass of brown pubic fur. I glanced down too, noting how
her hips continued to be teased by the vibrator I'd strapped
inside her. She thrust those hips towards me in an open
invitation that I almost couldn't resist.
Almost.
I sighed. "Look Liz, if you're good, it won't be for long. Not
if you're good. But, I have to do this now because I can't
afford to have you out in the open when I'm the only one in the
camper. If I'm stopped I'll have no opportunity to hide you,
nobody to help me get you under cover."
She swallowed again, looking at the padded interior of the box
with obvious dread, "I....I won't give you any trouble. I
promise. I give you my word that if we're stopped I'll keep
quiet, no one will even know I'm here."
She gave me her most earnest look. For a second I was tempted.
Hell, having Liz to talk to, even if that conversation was a
little single sided, seemed a lot better than hours of
loneliness on the road. I looked at her. At that moment she was
truthful about keeping quiet but I knew that her resolve would
evaporate if we were stopped by the cops.
I bent down and started to lift her naked body. "The
discussions over," I told her, " You have to learn that what
your master decides is what happens. This is not a democracy,
there is no room for compromise, what I say goes, period. It's
a hard lesson, Liz. A very hard lesson. But you'll learn it."
I hadn't expected Liz to take that lying down but the violence
of her struggles surprised me. For a second I had difficulty
just holding on to her. She struggled until she was breathless,
then paused, flashed me a look of pure terror and started to
shake her head.
"Oh please......." she looked at me with wide pleading eyes.
Finding no sympathy she struggled harder, straining and
thrashing against the ropes, her face red and contorted by the
exertion. Of course it did her no good, I was hardly a novice
when it came to tying women and the cords held firm. I was
content to wait until she tired herself out, the rest stop was
deserted and there was no one to hear her cries. Just then she
twisted, slipping from my grasp. Somehow I followed her down,
showing her a little before I collapsed on top of her.
She lay there for a moment, winded and unable to move. I
grinned as the exhaustion and helplessness crashed down on her.
She kept herself in good shape, probably went to a gym two or
three times a week, I think she had expected to be able to put
up more of a struggle. What she didn't know is that the easiest
way to get tired is to use muscles in ways that they aren't
trained for. Bound and helpless her restricted movements were
more tiring than a three mile run. She lay panting for the
longest time, a look of helpless frustration in her eyes. I
straddled her naked body, pinning her underneath me. I had won,
we both understood that, from the moment she stepped into my
world she had become my property and I was the one who decided
her fate.
Oxygen debt repaid she started to writhe again. Her body slid
under mine and the smooth softness of her skin rubbing against
crotch caused my cock to harden. I smiled, perhaps I would
slate my needs on her body before I put her away. I wondered
where the ring gag was? Probably too far away, but the teasing
vibrator had done it's work well enough. Even as she struggled
against me her thighs were undulating to the vibrator's
insistent little call.
I began to imagine the silky smooth warmth of her damp pussy
wrapped around my throbbing cock and her gag muffled cry of
pleasure/frustration/helplessness that would accompany the
orgasm I forced from her. I smiled at that warm thought and
reached for my fly buttons.
And then she screamed.
The sound wasn't loud, she was still a little winded, but it
had an horrific, disturbing quality to it, one that provoked a
memory.
.......A beech in Iraq, Day two of the war. Our Seal team,
inserted by Navy submarine on a supposedly clean and undefended
stretch of coastline, the target, the Iraqi Silkworm battery at
El Baz. A routine operation that became a military disaster,
one so large that it is missing from the official history of
Desert Storm. We discovered within seconds of coming ashore
that the beech had been littered with thousands of anti
personnel mines. As our point men had pushed out to the first
line of dunes the carnage had started. I remember the
explosions, the frantic cries, the moment of chaos before our
training took hold.
But more than anything I remember the screams, the cries of men
in pain, the screams of those who knew that this was their last
moment on earth.
The screams of the dying............
I looked down to find I had both hands clamped over Liz's
mouth. Her wide, panicked eyes looked up at me again. She was
trying to shake her head, but I'd pinned her down too hard.
For a crazy moment I almost reconsidered my decision. There
were several other places on board where I could happily
conceal her, in fact we could have up to four "guests" hidden
away at any one time. I started to wonder if one of the other
places might not be more humane. For a moment I hesitated while
Liz bucked and struggled beneath me, but then common sense
broke through. If I was to have any hope of breaking Elizabeth,
if she was ever to give up her former life and become a slave
girl, then her loss of control had to be total.
She screamed again, the wild inhuman sound of her terror
cutting through me like a knife. I had to shut her up, I had
to.
Keeping one hand clamped firmly over her mouth I fumbled for
the emergency syringe. I saw her eyes, wide, begging as I sank
the needle into her. I pushed the plunger watching as the drug
flowed into her veins. For a second she looked at me, not with
the hate I'd expected but with a look of pure horror. Then,
mercifully, a confused look came into her eyes followed a
moment later by a flickering of her eyebrows. For a while she
tried to fight but then the drug took hold. Her struggles
weakened and finally, thankfully, her eyes rolled back as the
drug stole her consciousness from her.
I worked quickly to pack her away. The rest stop was quiet for
the moment but I couldn't count on it staying that way. I
lifted her into the box and strapped her down. First I fitted
her with the mask, threading the breathing and feeding tubes
down her throat before inflating the huge mouth gag. For the
moment her screaming was over. I relaxed a little and worked
mechanically to get the rest of the hardware installed. For now
I didn't bother installing the anal catheter, for it to work
efficiently I would have to give her an enema and I didn't have
time for that. Instead I fitted her with a nice big butt plug
and replaced the vibrator with a dildo to remind her what her
cunt was for. With the gag and the ureathal catheter it meant
that every hole in her body was occupied --- I had taken
complete ownership of her body. I stuck the wires from a small
heart monitor to her breast just above her clamped nipples. The
little unit flashed a warning light in the cab if her heartbeat
became too fast or if it faltered for more than a couple of
seconds. Satisfied that Liz would be no further trouble, I
closed the box and returned to the cab.
There are a lot of practical reasons why I always travel with a
trained slave. A couple traveling together draws far less
official attention than a man on his own and the presence of a
woman helps to quiet the fears of young female hitchers who
make up the majority of my prey. However, those are not the
main reasons why I do it. Quite simply I hate traveling alone,
it's dull and boring and the long tedious hours behind the
wheel soon wear you down.
I found from practical experience that having someone else to
talk to helps to ease that empty feeling. Hell, I have driven
with a bound and gagged girl in the passenger footwell, my
unwilling audience forced to listen to my opinions on life the
universe and everything.
Even a quiet companion is still a companion.
It took me less than an hour before I missed Thelma's company.
An hour later that had extended to the feeling of emptiness I
got when I was away from Louise and the kids. I missed their
presence, the warm feeling of companionship that came just from
talking to them. Strange how the women in your life rule your
thoughts even when you own their bodies?
After a couple of hours I'd had enough. I sighed and headed off
the highway and into a roadside McDonalds. Breakfast and a
little human company were on my menu so I didn't notice the
Merc sports car until I'd slipped out of the cab and started
walking towards the restaurant. For a second I just stood there
confused. The model, color, and the custom detailing on the car
were so distinctive there seemed no room for error.
Liz's car, but that was impossible, my orders to Thelma had
been explicit!
I slowly walked towards the car, my mind in turmoil. Had Thelma
reverted? Had she just gone along with me, convinced me that
she was my trained little slave girl until I gave her the
opportunity to escape? It didn't seem possible, I had been so
sure, and if she was making a bid for freedom then why stop
here? It was then I saw the two police cruisers parked nearby.
Every instinct said run, but I knew I would stand no chance, if
Thelma had turned on me then a description of my vehicle would
already be on the wires and Louise and the kids were probably
in custody. I had a profound feeling of loss. Best to get this
over and done with I decided. With a heavy heart I walked down
the side of the Merc towards the entrance. I was trying to
determine exactly what I would say but kept coming up short.
Over the past few years I'd collected over thirty women and
sold them into slavery. What could you say to that? Given the
gung ho nature of most state troopers I'd be lucky if I even
made it back to the police station.
As I passed the Merc I glanced inside, noticing for the first
time the short female leather jacket draped on the back seat
and the paper sack containing the remains of two or three
discarded fast food meals that was dumped in the rear footwell.
I frowned. Either Thelma had been real busy over the last
couple of hours or this wasn't the same car. I had been so
sure... I waited until I had made it to the front of the car
and then paused to flash an admiring glance backwards. It was a
natural reaction, it was a beautiful car, but my motives in
looking back were a little more focused that just checking out
a nice set of wheels. I glanced down, noting for the first time
the single digit difference in the vanity plate. Either this
was the most incredible coincidence or....
A suspicion popped into my mind, one that was confirmed an
instant later when I entered the restaurant.
There was no queue, not at this time of the morning, I was
served immediately and when I had what I wanted I headed off in
search of the Merc's owners. They proved easy to spot, sitting
in a booth by the window, a booth that overlooked the section
of the lot in which the Merc was parked.
Of course I noticed her first, a guy in my business can spot a
beautiful woman at a hundred yards and there was no doubt that
this one was beautiful. I figured she was in her mid twenties,
young and athletic, I checked out her cute little nose, the sun
bleached hair, full pouting lips and the outdoor clothes she
was wearing. In style and presentation she couldn't have been
more unlike Liz, but their relationship showed through in the
structure of her cheeks, in the eyes, in the set of the jaw.
He was in his mid thirties fit, slim, dark brown hair thinning
a little, with a touch of premature gray at his temples. Dress
him in a power suit and he could be the poster boy for
corporate America but at the moment he was dressed out of
sorts, practical crew neck sweater, hideous golf pants and a
shirt that had one collar tucked into the sweater and other
poking out. It looked like he'd dressed in a hurry, throwing on
whatever was available. He had developed a strange nervous
motion, first craning his neck to check that his precious car
was all right, then looking out at the highway as if he was
searching for something and finally, almost as an after
thought, he would glance towards his blonde female companion.
He obviously out of his depth, cast adrift in a territory he
was uncomfortable with. Stubble showed that he hadn't shaved
that morning and the rings around his eyes spoke of a long,
sleepless night.
One look and I knew immediately who these people were and what
they were doing cruising the country in a twin of Liz's car.
It was Keith the cheating husband and Ruth the faithless
sister.
As I took my tray to a nearby table he started into his action
again, car, highway, girl in an ordered mechanical precision.
This time I noted the deliberate lack of eye contact when he
looked towards Ruth, the way her displeasure was written into
the tight line of her jaw and the angle of her shoulders. I
settled down at a table and took the opportunity to look her
over.
Ruth, the fun sister, the mistress, the betrayer, sucked on her
drink and looked around the room. I had to admit to being a
little disappointed, Ruth was nothing like I'd imagined. From
Liz's description I had expected a fun loving adventuress, a
girl willing to rough it in order to see the world on her
terms. Such people tend to be warm and friendly, when you are
forced to trust strangers and members of different cultures
just to survive you tend to be more tolerant. The Tibet story
had led me to expect a poor little secretary living hand to
mouth but living life to the full.
What I saw in that McDonalds was a spoiled brat, one of those
beautiful women that unfortunately knew that she was
attractive, an exploiter, a user of people. She was dressed in
hiking kit but every item was an expensive designer name,
couture for the weekend adventurer. As I watched she flicked
her blonde hair backwards, glanced around the room and sneered,
her attitude just screaming out to anyone who chose to hear. I
sighed, it seemed that family just had a talent for breeding
bitches.
She didn't seem particularly concerned that Liz was missing, at
least she didn't look worried. I watched as she furtively
checked out the rest of the guys in the restaurant. Keith's
attraction was obviously wearing a little thin and the girl was
looking to move on. For a second she looked my way, flashing me
a small, coy smile of recognition. However, I don't think she
liked what she saw. After a few seconds her little nose turned
up and she moved on.
A roadside Micky D's doesn't offer that many prospects however
and at length she seemed to decide that Keith was still her
best bet. Reaching over the table she touched the back of his
hand, breaking him from his surveillance of the road. He looked
up and blinked, smiled for the first time, and gently kissed
her forehead. Reaching for the table he pulled out a road map
and started to unfurl it. He started to point, talking
urgently, pointing out roads I couldn't see on the map.
Still, it didn't take a genius to realize when they were doing
out here in the boonies. I figure that the cops probably told
them that they couldn't start a missing persons case for at
least two days. If they had come clean about the circumstances
of Liz's disappearance I doubt the police would have been
interested at all, if there is no evidence of a crime then the
police tend to do very little with missing persons cases. If
the victim has a reason to disappear then the police do even
less. Faced with a lack of official interest the lovers had
done what they could. They had come looking themselves.
I frowned and wondered what to do. This kind of complicated my
decoy plans, I could hardly have them come across Thelma by
accident. On the other hand they had a whole lot of territory
to cover and just one car, the chances of them being in the
wrong place at the right time were slim. While I was thinking
about it Keith seemed to come to the end of his plans.
Standing, the pair headed for the exit hand in hand. As I had
finished I followed them, watching as their car reversed close
to my camper. Keith stopped for a moment while he shifted gear.
At that moment Ruth was sitting less than ten feet from her
kidnapped sister. Then, Keith moved the car forward and slowly
slipped out of the car park and on to an on ramp. A few minutes
later they roared off down the highway.
As I waked back to the camper I couldn't resist a small smile.
If only they knew.........
======================================================
The rest of the trip was uneventful. I kept a lookout to see if
Keith and Ruth would show up again and I was still a little
worried that somehow they might catch up with Thelma but as
there was nothing I could do about that at this stage I had to
trust to luck. I kept to my course and speed, crossing the
state border at around seven and finally arriving at the
deserted rest stop around sunset.
To my relief Thelma was already there and waiting. I think I
hugged her more tightly than a master should hug a slave but my
girl just laughed and smiled, her trip had been long but
uneventful and I started to relax. I had Thelma change while I
loaded the Merc back on the trailer and covered it with the
tarp. I knew of a roadhouse nearby where the management was
discrete and the prices reasonable. After such an emotional day
I think we all needed the rest.
======================================================
I knew I had problems the moment I opened the box. Liz lay
inside, her eyes open but unseeing, her body showing the
unmistakable signs of shock. I cursed, for some reason she
seemed to be in an almost catatonic state.
I checked her eyes. They responded to light but seemed
unfocused. There was no indication of voluntary movement or
tracking when I moved a penlight across her field of view.
I admit that I was suspicious, it wouldn't be the first time a
girl had feigned illness in an attempt to escape. Given that
Liz had a better than average knowledge of psychology and knew
that as a paramedic I would be able to spot a faked physical
ailment it seemed reasonable that she would attempt to fake a
mental problem. Casual slapping and pinching got me nowhere and
I started to think that perhaps she wasn't faking after all.
I scratched my head and wondered what was going on. There was
something strange about Liz, her reactions were all wrong, her
tendency to phase out on me went far beyond the shock
associated with the kidnapping. Hell she'd started doing it
back at the Vanishing Point long before I'd snatched her. I
took my time and did a quick physical check. Over the years I'd
seen all kinds of reactions to the bondage and imprisonment
none of which were nearly as servier as this. One thing seemed
clear, I needed to get her back to Louise's gentle professional
care as soon as possible. I sucked my bottom lip and cast
Thelma a worried glance. the problem was that Keith and Ruth's
little hunt made the laying of a false trail even more urgent.
At all cost I needed to keep them and the police as far from
the Vanishing Point as I could.
I looked up to find Thelma looking at me, her eyes asking
questions for which I had no answers.
If I was going to do anything now I would have to have more
space than this. I thought again about the roadhouse, it had a
small motel in it's grounds, a place for secret sexual liaisons
and for drunks to sleep off heavy nights. If we could get Liz
into one of those rooms we would be in better shape. Problem
was that at the moment that area would be at it's busiest and I
still wasn't sure this wasn't an elaborate escape attempt.
Despite Liz's condition it was best to be sure. I looked up at
the worried Thelma.
"Get me the duffel bag and a couple of rolls of duct tape," I
said.
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