AGENT IN HARM'S WAY: A WHITE SLAVER'S STORY
Excerpt from: Agents in Harm's Way: A White Slaver Story
The heavy doors closed behind her, and she found herself in a spacious
cabin. Ornately furnished and well-lit, it spanned the entire width of the
boat. Video cameras were mounted in strategic positions to scan the room.
A circular bed dominated the far end; fluted white columns running from
floor to ceiling, formed a semi-circle before it. Full-length mirrors
adorned the walls. And in those mirrors, repeated to infinity, one could
see the reflected forms of two girls who had been hung from the ceiling,
suspended by their wrists from a latticework of sturdy crossbars.
Mallory was stunned to find her young partner, her hands strung up high
over her head. The position forced Kip up on the tiptoes of her sneakers,
her lithe body stretched so that a considerable gap had opened between the
bottom of the little tank top, and the shorts that rode low on her slight
hips -- a gap that revealed her elongated midriff and tautly stretched
belly. A hard rubber ballgag had been jammed between Kip's teeth; over the
gag, the big brown eyes that met Mallory's were wide with fear.
A few feet away hung a beautiful girl, whose white blonde hair tumbled in
a mass of pale soft curls to lightly caress her bare shoulders. Her
slender body was lushly tanned, with fulsome breasts the same gorgeous tan
except for the ghostly curving triangles of white flesh centered on those
mounds, the lasting imprint of the skimpy bikini worn daily on some
California beach. From the waist up, all she had on was a thin choker, a
strip of black velvet banding her throat, with a small tag attached. From
her hips hung a pleated mini-skirt, made of some sort of satiny fabric,
lace-edged, like a short half-slip. The hem rode at mid-thigh, revealing
most of the splendid lengths of a pair of gorgeous, shapely legs sheathed
in black stockings. The blonde's stockinged feet were strapped into a pair
of high heeled sandals, which gave her just enough extra height so that
she could stand with arms bent a little, and was thus able to relieve the
strain. Still, the demanding position must have taken its toll, for she
moaned once again -- it was the same moan they had heard in the hallway.
She twisted around to regard Mallory with an imploring look in her anxious
eyes. While her pretty features were distorted by the gag, Mallory
recognized the well-built blonde immediately: they had found Meghan
Dillon.
Close this window to return to Don Winslow's Ironwood
For information on where to find this book, please see the Book Sources page.
Copyright 2001, Don Winslow