"I tell you, Mr. Stanton, nobody's looking for them. I picked them up in another state."
The trucker was speaking to a man that Sheryle could barely see. The mysterious Mr. Stanton was dressed in black, a muffler pulled up around his face so that only a pair of piercing eyes peered out. She wanted to call out and tell the man that the trucker was lying, that they hadn't been brought in from another state. Less than two hundred miles down the road was where the trucker had picked them up.
And it was less than ten miles from where he had raped her up the ass. Sheryle stirred uneasily in the back of the cab, her butt hurting like hell. If a million fire ants had been dropped into her body, she couldn't have felt more pain. The tingling from the fucking had worn off and left nothing but agony. Sore, hurting, she had been trussed up and thrown in the back of the truck with Michael.
In other circumstances it would have been nice lying with his body pressed so close to hers. But not now, not with both of them tied and gagged.
And being sold into slavery.
She felt a coldness grip her entire body. Her stomach developed a lump and she wanted to cry. White slavery. It wasn't possible. People weren't sold into bondage in this century. That was what the Civil War had been about. People were supposed to be free.
It wasn't fair!
But fair had nothing to do with the heated bargaining going on. Mr. Stanton obviously wanted to purchase them, but wasn't going to pay an outrageous price. In a way, Sheryle felt good about that. She was worth a lot and the trucker was asking a lot of money.
"Five thousand's not so much for the girl. Hell, Mr. Stanton, she's a cherry-carrying virgin just waiting to be picked. You gotta admit that's worth a few bill more."
"Perhaps," said the man, his voice low and ringing. Just hearing him speak sent shivers up and down the young teenager's spine. How could a man be so sure of himself to buy another human being? Mr. Stanton obviously had supreme confidence in himself and his ability to get away with this.
"Sure it is," said the trucker. "I'll throw in her boyfriend for nothing. Maybe you have a hankering for a young boy, too."
"Not so young. Perhaps eighteen."
"Naw, fifteen at the outside. Trust me, Mr. Stanton. I never steered you wrong before, have I?"
"That was before. Today is all that matters. But I'm growing weary of this haggling. Five thousand for both of them."
Sheryle saw the look of sheer greed flash across the trucker's face. It was apparent he would have been happy with half the amount. The redhead flared up inside. She was worth more! And this was for both her and Michael. She wistfully thought she could have gotten more if she had been dickering.
The irony of that hit her. She was wishing herself into slavery! She kicked and fought when the trucker pulled her from the back of the cab, but he was too strong for her. He dumped her unceremoniously on the ground and added Michael to the pile.
"There you are, sir. Now if you'll give me the money, I'll be on my way."
Mr. Stanton quietly passed over an envelope. The way the trucker's eyes widened told the story. The full five thousand was in cash.
Mr. Stanton stood and watched the truck vanish into the distance, then he bent down and put his arms around their waists. While he appeared thin to the point of emaciation, Sheryle found out he wasn't weak. With a surprisingly strong jerk, he lifted both of them and carried them toward the house.
House? Mansion fitted the bill more closely. It was huge and sprawling. Sheryle wasn't even able to guess how many rooms there must be in it. A hundred or more from what she could see. She had only seen mansions like this in magazines. She hadn't realized anything like this existed in this country.
The inside of the house matched the exterior. The furnishings were of the finest woods, marbles and metals. A crystal chandelier hung in the huge entry and the curving staircase leading to the upstairs was done in the finest of marbles. This place had to be worth millions. No wonder the man could pay a small fortune for her.
But what was he going to do with her now that he owned her? The girl began to cry as the man carried her with contemptuous ease up the stairs. She glanced across the man's body at Michael, but her boyfriend seemed to have passed out.
"Here," said the laconic Mr. Stanton. "I think we shall begin immediately. I wish to see if that thieving trucker has cheated me or not."
She watched in mute horror as the man dragged Michael across the plush carpet and fastened chains to the boy's wrists. A pulley system lifted the limp form up till Michael dangled, suspended by his wrists.
"Strip him using your teeth," Mr. Stanton ordered her. He removed the gag from her mouth and Sheryle gasped in the fresh air.
To her surprise, the air was perfumed. Everything about this odd house was first class. Why then did the man engage in such bizarre tactics? She fought to get her knees under her. The tight ropes cut into her wrists. As long as her hands were tied behind her back, she couldn't move the way she wanted.
And she wanted away from here – as fast as she could run.
"I told you to strip him using your teeth! Do it!" The man punctuated his command with the snap of a whip. Sheryle screamed as a lash landed across her shoulders. It didn't really hurt. The surprise counted for more than the pain. But the idea that the man would use a whip on her shocked her. It wasn't civilized. Things weren't done like this.
"Why are you whipping me?" she cried. "I've never done anything to you. I… I don't even know who you are. Just let us go and we won't say anything. I promise!"
"You will say nothing because you will not leave. And I paid five thousand for a virgin. Prove it to me. But first, remove all his clothing using only your teeth!"
The whip sang through the air again and landed harshly on her shoulders. She cringed, this time the pain lancing down into her chest. When he switched from her back to her tits, she felt a surge of – what? Pain? Pleasure?
She couldn't tell. The leather of the whip had landed squarely on her nipples. The redhead realized her tits were becoming firmer with the inflow of blood. Her excited heart was racing, pounding out gallon after gallon of blood. Her nipples expanded under the whipping and pressed into the thin fabric of her blouse.
"Do as I command!"
She began scooting across the thick-pile carpet on her knees, the whip as her constant companion. The man was totally expert with the whip. He used it to goad her, not to strip the flesh from her bones. But she realized it wouldn't take much to anger Mr. Stanton. He was capable of ruining her as a human being with that whip.
She got to Michael and looked up. The youth moaned and struggled, feebly in his chains.
"Wake up, Michael, please! We have to perform!"
"What? Perform? For who?"
"DO as I order you!"
This time Mr. Stanton used the whip on Michael. The teenager cried out in pain. Sheryle couldn't stand to see her boyfriend in pain. This was worse than feeling the whip lashing her own shoulders.
"We will do as you command, but please stop! Please!" Sheryle cried out.
The man in black stopped, his whip trailing off along the carpet. She turned and looked in his direction. He was still anonymous. The muffler was pulled around his face. The black eyes glaring at her burned with an intensity, a lust that wasn't to be denied. She bent forward and began undressing Michael with her teeth.
It was difficult. She found that she had to use her tongue to slip under the buttons. And she often had to pull them off entirely with her teeth. It was slow work but she did it, the whip occasionally urging her on. She was crying bitter tears as she did it, but she finally finished. As much as she could, she finished.
"Kick off the pants," ordered Mr. Stanton. Michael did as he was told, not wanting the whip to seek out his balls as it had done the last time he had refused a direct order.
Still, he didn't move fast enough, or Mr. Stanton felt perverse. The whip sang, landing harshly on both shoulders. The man used the whip to cut through the sleeves of Michael's shirt. Sheryle hastily reached up and gripped the tail of the shirt in her teeth. Like a dog worrying an old rag, she tossed her head and pulled the material away from her boyfriend's body. This saved them both getting new and painful welts from the whip.
"So, this is what the younger generation is hung like. Not too impressive," said Mr. Stanton, walking around the chained, naked youth. "And the ass. Too fat. This actually fucked you?" he asked Sheryle, the butt end of his whip lifting Michael's limp prick.
"N-no," she stammered. "He's never f-fucked me."
"Did the trucker?"
"Up the ass," she confessed. She blushed furiously at the thought of how he had raped her. "But I didn't want him to. He forced me! He raped me!"
"A likely story. All you teenagers are sluts. You live for nothing but fucking. You want cock whenever you can get it, isn't that so?" When she didn't answer, he lashed out with the whip. "Isn't that so? Answer me!"
"Y-yes!" she cried, knowing this was the answer he wanted to hear. She was on her knees directly in front of him now. He moved closer, the whip crackling beside her head with murderous menace.
"Unzip my pants and suck on my cock. Now!" the man ordered.
She swallowed hard. This was what he had wanted all the time. She could see the hard lump that was his prick. He had been getting off watching her strip Michael with only her mouth. Now that he was heated up, he wanted that sucking mouth all over his prick. But this wasn't anything new for her. She had sucked Michael off once and it had been good.
"If I do this, will you let us go?"
"Suck my cock, slut!"
The pain from the whip forced her to obey. She managed to get her tongue under the man's zipper. Using her teeth then, she pulled the metal tab down with a loud hissing. His prick sprang out, dancing just inches in front of her face. The sight of the mighty, virile prick, already steely hard, aroused her.
The girl blushed at the idea this could be a turn-on for her. The man's cock drew her like a magnet draws iron. She hated herself for getting so horny at the idea of being tied up and forced to give head. But there was no denying this was the way she felt. Her pussy was frothing over and the love juices were leaking down the insides of her thighs.
"Suck and don't stop till I tell you that you can!" he bellowed. She cringed at the force of the man's will. She couldn't deny him. He was too commanding for her to even think of doing that.
Besides, the threat of the whip lashing across her shoulders was more than enough to make her want to obey.
Licking her lips, she moved forward. And almost fell on her face. Just as she had reached out for the man's cock, he moved. She fell heavily the second time she tried to get his cock between her lips. He kept moving backward just beyond her reach.
"Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "Either let me suck on it or stop moving!"
"I am the one who commands here," he said in a cold, menacing voice. She felt shivers of dread go up and down her spine. She knew in that instant that she was more than a simple slave. She was a sex slave and would be forced to do all kinds of terrible, degrading things.
She swallowed hard and managed to get her knees back under her. Lifting up, she found his hard, bucking cock just inches away. Again she moved, and this time she succeeded in getting the knobby end of his prick into her mouth. The taste of an aroused male fuck-stick was enough to make her mouth water. She sucked as hard as she could, enjoying herself for the first time since coming into the huge mansion.
"Don't obey him, Sheryle," called out Michael. "Resist him. He'll give up after a while."
Sheryle couldn't see what happened, but she heard. The lash of the whip singing through the air, the dull thunk as it landed on naked flesh, the yelp as Michael reacted. She sucked harder, her lips caressing and stroking along Mr. Stanton's cock. Maybe if she could give his boner enough attention he would stop whipping Michael.
Maybe.
The teenager frankly didn't know what the man was up to. She did know he had complete control over her – and Michael – and that she would have to please him or suffer the consequences. Feeling the sting of the whip once was enough to make her eager to please.
Her tongue avidly licked and lapped along the sensitive underside of the man's cock. She teased the tiny flap of flesh dangling down under the cleft head, and then moved swiftly down the long stalk to the balls dangling below. She pressed her tongue into the hairy bag and felt the nuts trembling and lurching inside. The redhead knew that she could get him off in a hurry with a few of the tricks she had learned giving Michael a blow job.
Her teeth lightly scoured the sides of his prick. The lash of the whip instantly stopped her.
"No teeth! If you so much as touch my precious prick with your teeth, I will beat you until you are senseless!"
She nodded, her head bobbing in sudden fear. She didn't doubt the man's intentions for a single instant. He was brutal and dominating. He would do exactly what he said. She went back to sucking on his cock, making damned sure that her teeth never came close to touching his prick.
Licking and kissing, she moved up to the head of his pecker. Her tongue toyed with the huge knob and then she pulled the entire tip into her mouth. Cradling his cock with her tongue, she went down on him all the way. The rubbery tip of his cock bounced off the roof of her mouth and rattled all the way down her throat.
She almost gagged until she relaxed enough to take his prick into her windpipe. Nose pressing hard into his crotch, she swallowed a few times and then began to back away. She had to breathe and was getting dizzy from lack of air.
"Not yet," he said, tapping the back of her head with his whip. "I like this. I like the way your throat works on my cock. A few more minutes."
"Minutes?" screamed Michael. "She can't take it that much longer. She'll pass out. You're a beast! Why are you doing this to us?"
The whip sang and produced another shriek of agony from the chained youth. Sheryle hardly knew what was happening around her any more. The lack of air had begun to work on her. She was giddy, swaying back and forth. She finally sank to the carpet, not even knowing what was happening to her.
Stanton laughed at her. And she managed to get her eyes open enough to see him towering above her, his hand gripping the thick stem of his prick. He began sliding his hand up and down his length rapidly until she wondered what was wrong. Then came the rain of his jism into her face. She cringed away, as if it were acid. He followed her as she struggled to escape. His cum blasted down hot and heavy into her face and her lustrous red hair. No matter how she turned, she wasn't able to elude him. When his balls were entirely drained of cum, he reached down and picked her up with contemptuous ease.
Without saying a word, he carried her to another room and chained her to the bed, her wrists and ankles both fastened with slender links of chain.
And then he left her crying softly, her head buried in the curve of her own arm.