“Refill your drink, mister?” The waitress asked, walking up to the table. She favored the table’s long occupant with a wide smile.
“Sure, thank you.” The man sitting in the corner booth replied, handing his glass to the young woman. She turned and headed for the kitchen, her hips swaying appreciatively with each step. The man knew the smile and the walk had more to do with hope for a bigger tip than anything else, but that didn’t stop him from following her with his eyes all the way back to the kitchen.
“I wonder if she’d act like that if she knew who I am?” the man thought with a wry smile. Probably not. His name was Junior Jones and he was a member of the International White Slavery Union. The criminal association regulated the kidnapping and sale of women as sex slaves on the worldwide black market. They negotiated with buyers, dealt with law enforcement agents or journalists who were a risk of exposing the Union’s activities and limited the ‘acquisition’ of new merchandise its members brought in each year, to keep the price of slaves high.
The waitress came back with Jones’ drink. The older man thanked her, taking the glass. The young woman went to her next table, oblivious to how close she’d come to winding up a sex slave in a crime lord’s dungeon. Jones had given some thought to kidnapping her. Fortunately for the young lady, her boyfriend was an ex-marine with two tours of combat duty. Jones wasn’t desperate enough for a catch to risk that trouble. He’d wait, see if they eventually broke up. She might yet end up on the auction block…
“Need to find someone soon, though.” He reminded himself. Jones’ last sale had been a pair of sisters he’d abducted from their home in the night, to a buyer in the Far East. That had been five weeks ago and he’d spent most of the money he’d gotten for them already.
As noon came around and the lunch rush filled the place, Jones kept his eyes open for any possible targets. A place like this; an upscale restaurant or fancy coffeeshop was a good place to find potential abductees. The women who came in were dressed nice to show off and they rarely took notice of anyone who might be watching them. A pretty young housewife meeting with friends for lunch, or a business woman here with coworkers or clients, would be just the thing to refill Jones’ bank account.
A few yards away from Jones’ booth was a large table. Having come to the place often in the past two months, he knew the table’s usual occupants would soon be coming in. They were a group of middle-aged women, in their late forties, all single or divorced. They regularly met here for lunch. The wait-staff kept their able empty for them unless the place was already packed full.
From his booth, Jones could easily overhear their conversations, especially on Fridays when they liked to have some wine with their meal, and, almost unconsciously, he’d picked up some information about the five women. It was a habit, from years of spying on countless women in places like this, finding out more about them before he kidnapped and sold them.
First to arrive was Sandra. She was of average height, with shoulder-length blonde hair. From conversations, Jones had learned she was a former teacher. She took a seat and ordered an iced tea. No long after her came a tall brunette named Robin. Of the five, the former accountant was probably the best looking. She kept her body fit for her age and she had great curves and a fantastic rack. The denim vest top and way-too-short denim skirt showed it off well. A cowboy hat and boots completed her ‘country-girl’ outfit.
The next two women arrived within minutes of each other. Helga had been an executive at a small financial company. She still dressed in tailored pantsuits and heels that showed she had considerable assets under her clothes as well, particularly her tight, good-looking ass. Behind her was Ally, a chef in between steady positions. She wore her light brown hair short and had a large rack, real or not Jones couldn’t tell. The other women sometimes teased her over them as well.
The final member of the group showed up ten minutes later, apologizing for bad traffic. Nancy was a short, slender woman, blonde, with good curves. She wore a purple dress, her favorite color, judging from how often she wore it.
With all of them present, Sandra waved down their usual waiter so they could order. Still keeping his eyes peeled for a good target, Jones sped up eating. If he lingered too long, the staff would try and subtly speed him along, to free up the booth for more paying customers. The last thing he needed was the staff taking notice of him. It would make it harder for him to spy on potential slaves secretly. As he ate, Jones couldn’t help but listen to the conversation of the group nearby.
“So I had to reschedule my trip…” Helga told the others. “Lord knows if I’ll be able to get the tickets refunded. Upshot is, I’ll be able to come by Wednesday and join the rest of you next week after all.”
“Good. I recently had some work done, I wanted to show everyone. I think you will all love what I’ve done with the kitchen.” Sandra replied.
“Too bad they’re not twenty, even ten years younger.” Jones thought to himself. “Nabbing these ladiesd would be the easiest thing in the world…” Unfortunately, there wasn’t much demand for forty-plus year old slaves. “Still I need to do something to keep in practice.” He continued thinking. “Why not? Even if I don’t grab them, stalking them will help me stay in practice until something better comes along.”
With that resolved, Jones finished his meal and called for the check. He went to his car and got some things out of the trunk. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Jones waited until he was his unwitting ‘practice dummies’ leave the café. They said their goodbyes and got into their cars. Picking one of them at random, Jones pulled out of the parking space and followed her until she got back to her house.
Over the next two weeks, Jones spent several hours every day following one or more of the women, finding out information about them: where they lived, friends or family they were in close contact with, their regular daily routine. With a normal target, he would secretly photograph them, to send in to the Union. They could show the photographs to potential buyers and if there was interest, the slaver would be given the go-ahead to kidnap her. Even though he wasn’t planning on kidnapping them, Jones still snapped a few photographs of the five, for practice.
From the beginning, Jones was surprised at how easy it would be to kidnap them. None of the women had any close relatives and only a couple of them had boyfriends, neither of whom were going steady. They were all freelance or employed on a temporary basis only. In short, no one would notice if the five went missing, at least not for some time.
The best place to carry out the kidnapping, Jones figured, would be Sandra’s house. The former teacher lived out of town and the nearest neighbor was a good distance away. The five met regularly there to catch up and use Sandra’s backyard pool. His research finished, Jones decided to move on to other things, forget about the five MILFs. Fifteen days after Jones had started his surveillance, he paid a visit to one of his friends in the Slaver’s Union…
“Well, if it isn’t Junior Jones!” Mike said with a grin, opening the front door. He stepped back to let Jones into the isolated, rural home. Mike was a middle-aged man, in his late forties, balding, slightly pudgy. He had a friendly face and an attitude that immediately put you at ease. One would be hard to imagine he was a senior member of the White Slaver’s Union who had, alone or as part of a team, been responsible for abducting hundreds of girls for the slave trade over the years. Many of his victims probably hadn’t imagined it, until the cuffs snapped shut around their wrists and it was too late for them.
“What can I do for you?” Mike said, leading Jones into the dining room. As he sat down at the table, the slaver pulled out a small remote from his pocket and pushed a button. “Two beers in the dining room.” He said, holding the device up to his face.
“Well…” Jones replied, taking a seat across from Mike. “I was wondering if you knew of any teams that were planning any major grabs that might need another experienced man.”
“I might…” Mike said, regarding Jones with a look of curiosity. “But I thought you always preferred to work freelance?”
“Usually, yes.” Jones said, with a shrug. “But lately, I just haven’t been able to find any promising targets. I need something to bring in a little cash to tide me over a while…”
As he was saying this, the door to the kitchen opened and a young woman walked into the room. Shuffled would be more accurate; a pair of steel cuffs joined by a short chain restricted her to short, halting steps. A similar pair of cuffs chained her hands, in which she carried a tray which had a two mugs of beer on it.
Her dark hair was tied back in a bun. A black leather strap held a metal ring between her teeth. A rubber plug was inserted into the ring gag. A leather collar circled her neck. On one side was the bulky plastic box of a shock collar. Apart from that, she was completely naked.
The slave girl slowly shuffled over to the table, head bowed submissively, and set the tray down. She stood, hands folded in front of her, legs spread as far as she fetters allowed, giving Jones a good view of her neatly shaved slit. He grinned, running his eyes from her waist up to her naked chest and her perky round boobs.
“Nice, huh?” Mike said. Reaching up, he removed the large, phallus shaped plug from the girl’s gag. He snapped his fingers and gestured downward. Without a word, the slave sank to her knees and crawled under the table. “Used to be a teacher. I grabbed her about two months ago. Been training her up a bit before I deliver her to the buyer I’ve got lined up. I won’t lie, I’ll be sorry to see her go, though.”
From under the table, a slurping sound could be heard as the slave took Mike in her mouth and began working him over with her tongue. Mike grinned, reaching for his beer. He took a long pull of the amber liquid, smacking his lips in satisfaction.
“So anyway, what was your last job? The Hanson sisters, was it?” Mike asked. “That was a couple months ago, right? What have you been doing since then?”
Jones quickly explained his ‘practice’ sessions with the five MILFs. Mike listened, occasionally given a quiet grunt of pleasure.
“Do you have those photographs on you?” Mike asked. Jones nodded, pulling out his phone. He opened up the latest batch of photographs, showing the women sitting around Sandra’s pool in their swimsuits.
“You know, you might have something here.” Mike said, after looking over them. Jones raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear this from me, but recently the Union got a request from a buyer, can’t tell you who, but he’d good for it, asking for older ‘mature’ slaves, with the stipulation that they had to be fresh captures, not re-sales.”
Mike paused a second, giving a last grunt of pleasure. Under the table, the slave girl gagged as his load filled her mouth. “Anyway, we didn’t have any slaves that fit the bill and I don’t know of anyone who’ve got anything like that lined up. We figured we’d eventually fill the order with incidentals, you know, extra slaves we bag by accident, target daughter and end up nabbing mom to. Better than selling them to the snuff film producers…or worse. But if you want to send these ladies in for confirmation, I think I can promise you we’ll have a buyer for them.”
Jones grinned, and not just because the slave girl under the table, having finished with Mike, had just crawled over to him and unzipped his pants…
Returning to his home, Jones got on his computer and logged into the secure server the Union used. He uploaded all of the photographs he’d taken along with a write up of what he had learned about the five MILFs. While waiting for confirmation, Jones started gathering everything he would need: knockout drugs, chloroform, hoods, gags and of course; plenty of soft, strong rope, cut in various lengths and tied in neat coils. All of these were placed in the unmarked white van he usually used for jobs like these. When he had finished, there was already a message in his inbox, telling him he had permission to carry out the abduction.
Tuesday evening, Jones drove out to Sandra’s house. He knew from his surveillance the middle-aged woman usually went to the gym in the evenings. She was usually gone for several hours, so the house would be empty. The door was locked, but the burglar alarm was not activated. It took Jones only a few moment to have the back door open. Silently, he slipped inside. He had a good idea of the layout of the house, from looking in through the widows, but the slaver liked to get an inside perspective, whenever he could, before carrying out a kidnapping.
Moving quickly, from room to room, Jones quickly memorized the floorplan. That door there; that was the entrance to the garage; Sandra left the garage door open on Wednesdays, so her friends could come into the house to the pool that way. Moving from there, towards the pool, he passed a ground floor office. It had a nice, open layout, with a couch and a TV. He guessed the women would stop by here, to change into their bathing suits, before moving out to the backyard pool.
Jones left the house and went to his van. Inside, he found his bag of tools. Taking it, he returned and stashed it behind the couch, where it wouldn’t be noticed. After making sure he hadn’t disturbed anything else in the house that might give away his clandestine visit, the slaver slipped out and drove back to his house.
The night passed slowly. Jones was unable to sleep, to anxious and excited about the kidnapping tomorrow. It would only be the latest in his long career. He went to his work computer and looked through the extensive collection of photographs he’d taken of the dozens of young women and girls he’d abducted over the years. In each folder, the pictures began with the surveillance process, photos snapped of the women out in public, walking down the street, exercising at the gym, eating out with friends and family. Then came the covertly taken ones of them in their homes, a view through the window blinds of a young women changing or stepping out of the shower.
For many, that was where the pictures stopped. For one reason or another Jones had never applied for permission to carry out their abduction, or the Guild had refused it. There were no more pictures of these women. But for others, though, there were more pictures, taken during and immediately after their kidnapping. Where the surveillance pictures were almost always taken from a distance, were blurry or partially obscured by bushes or curtains, the capture pictures were close up, clear, showing an unconscious girl, lying on the floor, or a naked captive, bound and gagged in Jones’ van, slowly realizing her old life was over.
Finally, Jones looked over the pictures of the MILFs he’d slowly amassed over the past few weeks. Soon enough, he would have a second set of photographs for them. By this time, the early morning sun was peaking over the horizon. Jones went downstairs and grabbed some coffee. It was time.
He got into his van and drove back to Sandra’s house. He parked a short ways away, where the van couldn’t be seen by the other women as they drove up and walked into his trap. He brazenly walked up to the front door and tested the knob. It was unlocked, probably from when Sandra had gone out to fetch the morning paper. Turning the knob, Jones slipped inside.
The sound of music playing and water running, coming from upstairs, told Jones Sandra was in her bedroom, taking a shower. He swung by the office and grabbed a bottle of chloroform, a rag, several coils of rope and a two of the ballgags from his bag before making his way up the stairs towards the master bedroom. He paused by the door, which was open a crack, and peered inside.
He was just in time to see Sandra stepping out of the bathroom, naked and wet from the shower. Toweling off, the older woman went to her dresser and grabbed a set of black underwear from it. She sat down on the bed with her back to the door and slid her legs through the holes in the panties. Silently, Jones crept into the room, the chloroform soaked rag at the ready.
When he was directly behind Sandra, the slaver pounced. One arm went around her torso, yanking her back against him while his other hand pressed the rag over the startled woman’s mouth and nose. Sandra gave a muffled cry of fright, her eyes widening in shock. She sucked in air, getting ready to call for help, not that there was anyone in earshot to hear her screams, and got a big whiff of chloroform.
Frantically, Sandra began to struggle, her arms going up to Jones’ arm in a desperate attempt to pull the chloroform cloth away, but Jones had chloroformed plenty of scared women in his career and had little trouble keeping the drugged rag pressed firmly until he felt her beginning to weaken. He kept it on a few moments after Sandra slumped over in his grasp, unconscious, just to make sure she would stay out for a while, then let go of her. She crumpled onto the bed, limply.
Stuffing the rag back into his pocket, Jones pulled out one of the coils of rope. Untangling it, he rolled Sandra over onto her belly and pulled her arms behind her back. He quickly lashed her hands and then her feet together. Rolling her onto her back, Jones slipped the rubber plug of the ballgag between the unconscious woman’s teeth and tightened the straps.
Jones amused himself most of the morning, playing with Sandra’s breasts. After half an hour, the woman slowly started coming to. She whimpered into her gag, fearfully, as Jones continued playing with her, exploring every inch of her hot body. Soon, the first of her friends arrived.
“Sandra! You there, Sandra!” The woman called out. Upstairs, Sandra groaned into her gag, as loud as she could, trying to warn the newcomer of the danger. Instead, her cries only served to attract her friend. “Sandra?” The woman called out, coming closer. “Is everything all right?”
Grabbing the chloroform soaked cloth, Jones ran over beside the door and waited. Meanwhile, Sandra thrashed about on the bed, fighting her bonds and grunting through her gag, desperately. A moment later, the door opened and Ally stepped into the room, clad in a lime green bikini and a wrap-around skirt.
“Oh my god! Sandra are you ok!” Ally screamed, seeing her friend lying on the bed, bound and gagged in only her panties. The other woman stepped through the door, towards the bed, heedless of her captive friend’s warning. With a smooth, practiced motion, Jones stepped behind Ally as she entered the room. He grabbed Ally, pulling her back, his other hand automatically moving to press the chloroform soaked rag to her face.
Ally fought back, thrashing about in his grasp. She shook her head, trying to shake the rag off, but Jones succeeded in holding her down long enough for the chloroform to start to take effect. Ally continued to fight, but it was all over for her. Her eyes fluttered as she struggled to stay awake, the chloroform invading her senses.
On the bed, Sandra sobbed into her gag, watching as Ally slumped over in Jones’ grasp. The slaver grinned, dragging the limp woman over to the bed. During her struggles, her skirt had come off, leaving her in just her bikini. Lying her down beside Sandra, Jones quickly bound the other woman’s wrists and ankles and put the gag on her as well.
When he was finished with Ally, Jones decided to put Sandra back to sleep again, so she wouldn’t cause trouble. Sandra’s eyes widened in terror as she saw him pull out the rag and move towards her. She’d been knocked out once and didn’t want to experience the chloroform again. Unfortunately for her, what she wanted no longer mattered and never would again. Pretty soon, she and the other MILFs would have to obey the whims of a cruel master.
Sandra sobbed, helplessly, as the cloth was pressed over her face. The older woman held her breath, delaying the moment when she would have to breath in the chloroform fumes for as long as possible, but delaying it was all she could do. Eventually, her lungs empty of air, Sandra had no choice but to breathe in. She swooned and went limp on the bed.
Satisfied with his first two captives, Jones spent some time playing with Ally now, groping her exceptionally large breasts, through the thin fabric of her bikini. He rolled Ally over, on top of Sandra, so that the other woman’s face was buried in Ally’s tits. After a moment, Jones decided against it and moved Ally back to where she was. “Don’t want to smother a valuable piece of merchandise.” He thought with a grin.
Outside, Jones heard another car pulling up, signaling the arrival of another captive. Leaving the two unconscious women, Jones rushed downstairs to the changing room. Slipping inside, he found a hiding spot, to wait for his next victim. After a few minutes, he heard two of the women, Helga and Robin, from the sound of things, coming towards him.
For a brief moment, the slaver was wondering how he was going to handle two of the women at once, but fortunately, as the two reached the door, Jones heard Robin say, “You go ahead and get changed. I’m gonna use the restroom first. I’ll meet you out on the back porch.” A second later, Helga stepped through the door, dressed in one of her usual pantsuits.
From his hiding place, Jones watched Helga unbutton her jacket, followed by her blouse. Underneath, she had on a black bikini top. The woman reached over to set her jacket down on a chair, giving Jones a good view of her ass in the tight pants. Seizing the opportunity, Jones leapt from his hiding spot and grabbed Helga. The startled woman managed a yelp before Jones got the rag over her mouth, but she put up little resistance as he drugged her into unconsciousness.
The slaver didn’t have time to tie her up just yet. Outside in the hallway, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing. Quickly, Jones dragged the limp woman behind the couch, out of sight and crouched down beside her as the door opened. Robin stepped inside, dressed in the same cowgirl outfit she’d had on at the café.
When her back was turned, Jones jumped on her, the same as Helga. Unlike Helga, Robin put up quite a fight. The middle aged woman was in great shape, having spent plenty of time in the gym and it showed. Jones threw his weight onto Robin, slowly forcing her to the ground, on her knees, but even so, she fought against him, thrashing and bucking like a wild bronco. A couple times, she managed to shake off the chloroform rag long enough to take a quick breath of pure air, which dragged out the struggle for several minutes long.
Eventually, though, Jones wore her down. Occasional whiffs of the chloroform robbed her of some of her strength, enough to let him press the cloth down and keep it over her mouth and nose until she had no choice but to breath in the drugged fumes. With a long moan of despair, Robin sank to the ground, knocked out.
Jones let out a long sigh of relief. He hadn’t had this much trouble securing a captive since the time he’d grabbed a schoolgirl who, it turned out, had been taking lessons in both gymnastics and judo. “I’m sure your future owner will love a girl like you.” He said to the unconscious Robin. Standing up, he dragged the limp woman over the couch and propped her up into a sitting position. Turning, he grabbed Helga and placed her there, beside the other woman.
Kneeling down, Jones removed both women’s shoes. He unzipped Helga’s pants and pulled them off, leaving her in her bathing suit. He removed Robin’s denim skirt, followed by her vest and hat, leaving her in a bright red, string bikini that was definitely too daring for someone her age.
Going to his bag, Jones grabbed rope and gags for the two of them and quickly bound their hands together behind their backs. He left their legs untied, for now, with their legs spread wide, giving a clear line of sight to the women’s sexes, covered only by a thin strip of fabric.
Upstairs, Sandra and Ally had started coming to again. Jones heard Sandra’s muffled groan. Leaving Helga and Robin on the couch, Jones went back upstairs. He found Sandra and Ally rolling around on the bed, whimpering through their gags as they struggled in vain to get free. Sandra sobbed as Jones picked her up, throwing the woman over one shoulder. Ally soon joined her, tossed over the other. They both squealed indignantly as Jones ran his hands over their nice asses.
The two moaned in fright as Jones carried them into the changing room and they saw Robin and Helga, unconscious on the couch. Jones set his squirming burdens on the couch down beside them. Letting them struggle for a moment, Jones went to his bag and opened it up. From inside, he pulled out a small black box and opened it. Inside was an injector gun and several glass vials.
Loading one into the machine, he stepped over and pressed the gun to Sandra’s arm and pulled the trigger. The woman grunted into her gag in pain as the needle jabbed her. A second later, she swooned, falling into a deep sleep. Beside her, Ally shook her head, mumbling unintelligible pleas into her gag as another dosage of the knock out drug was loaded into the gun. She shrank back, sobbing as Jones pressed the gun to her arm and knocked her out as well. Jones went ahead and injected the other two women, to ensure they wouldn’t come to any time soon. This dosage was supposed to be good for three hours, though it varied depending on the person’s size and metabolism.
Jones stepped back a moment, to admire his four captives. He decided he liked how Robin and Helga looked, with their legs spread, so he untied Sandra and Ally’s ankles, spreading their legs out as well. He pulled out a small camera and snapped some photos. “Though the collection won’t be complete until I’ve got the last one…” he thought.
Twenty minutes later, Nancy arrived. She stepped into the changing room, muttering something about traffic. Her eyes went wide in terror as she saw her four friends unconscious on the couch, hands behind their backs, gags in their mouths. The older woman screamed. She didn’t have time to do much else, because a second later, Jones was behind her with the chloroformed rag. Nancy whimpered, smelling the drugs on the cloth as it was pressed to her face and then she sank into darkness.
Jones dragged his final captive over to the couch. He quickly stripped her out of her street clothes, revealing a purple one-piece bathing suit. After giving her an injection of the knockout drugs, and tying her hands and popping a large, purple rubber ballgag into her mouth, Jones laid the limp Nancy onto the couch, lying on the laps of her unconscious friends. Grinning, Jones snapped several pictures of the five MILFs, from a number of angles.
After he had his photos, Jones began the long process of loading the newly captured slaves into his van. He ran outside and pulled the vehicle into the garage, beside Sandra’s car. One at a time, he carried the limp women to the garage. There, the slaver laid them on the floor of the van and quickly hogtied them with rope. Though they would be unconscious for most, if not all of the journey, Jones fitted a tight bondage hood over their heads, so they couldn’t see anything.
The drive back to Jones’ house was uneventful. After an hour or so on the road, the knock-out drugs started to wear off. The women began squirming around, sobbing quietly into their gags as they found themselves tied up in the back of a vehicle, being taken to who-knows-where. They had no way of knowing how far their journey into slavery would take them and that they would never return to their old lives again.
Finally, Jones pulled into his garage. The slaver got out and walked around to the side door of the van. Opening it, he reached in and cut the rope hogtying the women and binding their ankles. Grabbing the sobbing captives, he lifted them out of the van and into the garage.
The slaver got his new stock moving by slapping their asses with one hand. Blindly, the women stumbled out of the garage, into the room where Jones had set up his dungeon. The women grunted indignantly, not liking how the slaver felt up their bodies with his hands. They liked it even less as Jones took a pair of scissors and cut away their swimsuits, leaving the women completely naked. Jones snapped more pictures of the newly stripped slaves before he forced them into cages and locked them in.
Inside the cramped cells, the five women whimpered and sobbed. No doubt they were wondering what was going to happen to them now, if they were going to be raped, or tortured or even killed. Jones ignored them as he went to his computer and began to upload the new photographs of the slaves. His usual practice was to let the newly kidnapped slaves spend a couple days in their cages, to recover from the shock of their capture and get used to the bondage before he told them their fate; to be sold as sex slaves. Then their training would begin.
For these five, though, Jones wouldn’t be training them. The owner wanted the MILFs delivered untrained, unbroken. Maybe he had his own plans for their training or maybe he preferred his slaves to have some fight in them when he played with them. It didn’t matter to Jones. Their future owner could do whatever he wanted with the unlucky women, provided he got paid for delivering them…
Sure enough, it didn’t take long after uploading the photographs that Jones got a message back, telling him to expect a truck to come around that night to collect the five slaves. He checked the computer’s clock. The truck would be here in a little over five hours. Grinning, Jones stood up and walked back over to the row of cages. He peered through the bars, down at the trembling, sobbing naked captives below him.
His eyes finally settled on Robin. “We’ve got some time, let’s have a bit of fun.” He said, opening the cage. The woman shook her head, grunting frantically through the hood, but there was little she could do to stop Jones as he dragged her over to his chair. Sitting down, he threw the helpless captive over his knees. “Got to keep you fresh for the buyer…” Jones muttered to himself, “but that doesn’t mean I can have some fun with all of you first.”
Raising his hand, he brought his palm down, sharply on the naked woman’s ass. She squealed into her gag at the contact, partly from the stinging pain, partly from shock. Jones guessed she hadn’t been spanked since she was a little girl, if then. Jones raised his hand up again and brought it down across her cheeks again and again. Robin squirmed, but she couldn’t escape the blows that rained down on her. The slaver’s other hand, meanwhile, went to one of her large, round breasts and went to work, groping it, squeezing the soft flesh and pinching her nipple.
When the woman’s cheeks were a nice shade of red, Jones slid his hand between her legs to feel the lips of her naked sex. His captive moaned, terrified by what was happening to her. In the cages nearby, the other captives sobbed as well. Though the hoods kept them in total darkness, they could hear what was happening to their friend. They also knew, sooner or later, it would be their turn next…
By the time the truck arrived, Jones had given all of the MILFs a good work over. He grinned, pushing Nancy, the last one back into her cage. By now, all five women’s asses glowed red from the spanking. No doubt, underneath their hoods, their faces were also red with shame at how casually he had felt up their naked bodies. Jones grinned. They didn’t realize this was just the tip of the iceberg. They would endure far more than this in their new lives as slaves…
Just then, the doorbell rang. Jones went to the door. Mike was there, with another man. Parked in front of the house was a small moving van. “We’re here to take some lovely ladies to their new home.” Mike said with a smile.
“This way.” Jones replied, leading them back to the dungeon. “Have a look.” He said, gesturing to the cages.
“Very nice.” Mike said, leering down at the captives. “Their new owner will love them.” His words elicited a chorus of terrified moans from the slaves. They moaned louder as he said his next sentence: “Let’s get these ladies crated up for the trip.”
Mike and the other slaver headed out to the truck. A minute later, they returned, carrying a heavy wooden packing crate. Setting it down, they dismantled it. The four long sides of the box were fitted with straps for securing captives. The fifth would be put in the middle, strapped to another one of the girls, face to face.
Jones unlocked the first cage. Sandra kicked and struggled wildly as she was dragged out, determined not to go into sex slavery without putting up a fight first. But It was far too late for her, or the other women, to resist now. Mike grabbed Sandra’s legs, so the two slavers could lay the woman against the wooden frame and strap her in place. Helpless, the frightened captive screamed through her gag.
“We’ve got something to take care of that.” Mike said, leaving the room. A moment later he returned with a bag from the truck. Opening it up, he pulled out an injector gun, like the one Jones had used on them earlier. Placing it against Sandra’s arm, he pulled the trigger, injecting the knockout drugs into the woman. After a moment, they kicked in and she fell silent.
Before moving on to the next girl, the slavers got out a pair of large, rubber vibrators from another bag. These were lubricated and forced into Sandra’s holes. “Something to keep her company during the journey.” Mike said with a grin. Jones returned the grin. Sandra would be in for quite a surprise when she came to…
Next was Robin. She struggled just as much Sandra and just like the first woman achieved nothing with her struggles. The lovely MILF was strapped down and injected with the drugs as well. Another pair of rubber intruders were produced and inserted into Robin.
Nancy, having heard her friends’ struggling in vain, didn’t bother resisting as she was pulled out of her cage, not that it did her any good. She got the same treatment as the first two, though she got the plugs first. The woman squealed indignantly as the large rubber phallus was slowly forced into her asshole. A moan escaped her gag as the second slid between the lips of her sex. She cried out again, as they were switched on. Her moans subsided as the knock out drugs took hold.
Helga went next and had the same done to her. She sobbed brokenly as she was strapped in and fitted with the plugs. Finally, Ally was brought out. The slavers laid her out, on top of Helga, their naked bodies pressed close together, chest to chest and the two women were strapped together tightly.
When the last captive was secured, unconscious and plugged, the slavers quickly reassembled the crate. Mike’s partner went to get a trolley. The crate was lifted onto it and the two men rolled the trunk, and its slumbering contents out to the truck.
“Check your account in a couple hours.” Mike told Jones as the crate was loaded. “You should get your payment for these ladies soon.” He climbed into the truck and started it up. For the five MILFs, their new lives as slaves had just begun…