Excerpt from: The Purgatory Trap

 

The circle "T" brand that graced the skin over Jill's left buttock still throbbed and stung even now, hours after it had been burnt into her. Jill desperately wished she could put ice on her seared flesh or lather it with cold cream. But there was neither ice nor cream and she was a naked, helpless, gagged, and blindfolded prisoner and more miserable and frightened than she had even been in her young life.

Jill was bent doubled-over on her knees, her hands manacled behind her back, inside a cramped rectangular cage of heavy wire mesh reinforced by metal angle bars. Her shoulders pressed against the top of the cage, her nose brushed the rim of a small opening in the mesh at one end, while the pout of her shaven sex rubbed against a matching slot at the other. A bulldog clip pinched the soft petals of her inner labia together with painful tightness. Her enforced posture also exposed the head of the cork that protruded from between her buttocks, plugging her anus. Heavy-duty bungee cords had been looped and hooked through the cage, passing under her torso, crossing her neck, chest and waist and pulling her up hard against the cage roof. At least that took some of the strain from her bunched thighs and eased the pressure on her knees and shins, which rested on a foam rubber mat that lined the cage floor. More cords were wrapped about her ankles and pulled her legs out to the sides of the cage. The most unrestrained and mobile parts of her body were her heavy pendant breasts that trembled with her muffled sobs and occasionally swayed slightly with the motion of the aircraft in which she was an unwilling passenger.

It was a small cargo plane, and the drone of its turboprops filled the hold space. Jill's cage was one amongst several others, each with its own parcel of naked female flesh. She could feel the body heat from those on either side of her and hear their stifled moans and whimpers. She could even smell the heady musk of their arousal. Though that seemed incredible in the circumstances it was entirely normal for girls of their sort. Even terrified as they all were they could not help such a response to bondage and exposure. She felt the oily wetness of her own labia adding to the aroma. Not for the first time she marvelled at her own perversity, but she did not try to fight it. It was her only defence against what was to come.

Was Sondra's scent mingled with the others? Jill hoped so. She knew she had been caged up with the others and wished she could speak to her and tell her it was not her fault. Jill had gone into this with her eyes open, knowing the risks and prepared for everything except the treachery that had brought her to this moment: bound for a life of perpetual slavery and degradation in a place she only knew as TARTARUS... another name for Hell!

An unseen hand pulled the strap and plug-gag from Jill's mouth, breaking in on her miserable recollections. She felt her hair grasped through the cage mesh to steady her head while the plumb-tip of a hard cock was rubbed across her lips. She opened her mouth and took the slug of flesh inside, sucking and licking with automatic and instinctive eagerness. Neither her unseen captor's action in taking advantage of her nor her response either surprised or shamed her. She was a naked caged sex slut and expected nothing less. In fact it allowed her to briefly forget her fears, imagining she was in transit in a Purgatory van being used by its crew for their pleasure and revelling in her utter helplessness.

With a grunt and sigh the man came inside her mouth, filing it with his hot seed that she dutifully swallowed. He pulled out his cock trailing dribbles of sperm. Jill licked her lips but did not attempt to speak, holding her mouth hopefully open. The spout of a water bottle was pushed between her lips and gratefully she gulped the liquid down. Then her gag was replaced, and she was left in mute darkness with her bleak thoughts once again.

A growing wave of despair threatened to overwhelm her. What would it do to her parents when they realised she was missing? She felt hot tears filling her eyes underneath her blindfold at the thought of them. They didn't know what Purgatory had done to her and certainly didn't deserve such grief.

She tried to get angry instead, struggling to put aside her own guilty feelings about how she could have been taken in so completely by Viper. Of course he had been helped by the fact that the Purgatory Club members wore animal masks all the time. She had never seen the real Tiger's face. The rest had simply been a question of imitating his voice and manner.

What mattered now was the evil thing he was doing to her, to Sondra, to all the girls in the plane. They might be natural sluts and submissives, but that did not make any of this right. Jill wanted to choose when and who to submit to on her own terms. Viper was part of a conspiracy kidnapping and trafficking girls on a continent-wide scale. He was greedy for money and sexual power and not content with all the girls passing through the Club he could have had who deserved correction. Very well, she told herself, she would see he did not get away with it. Somehow she would escape Tartarus and ensure Viper got the punishment he deserved...

Perhaps an hour later, though by now her sense of time was getting hazy, a hand reached through the rear slot of her cage and took the bulldog clip off her labia. Jill groaned as the blood flowed back into her tender flesh bringing an acute sensation of burning pins and needles. Stiff fingers parted her sticky flesh lips and thrust briefly into her vagina. Then she felt the rim of a plastic funnel pressed against her pubes and gratefully released her pee. The thought that somebody was watching her perform this intimate function while bent over like an animal only gave her a little frisson of pleasure; another small diversion to be treasured. When she was done the funnel was removed, toilet tissue was wiped through her cleft - a small but welcome consideration - and the clip was replaced. The cork in her bum, however, stayed in place. It seemed their attendants did not want to wipe dirty bottoms. Wherever she was going she would arrive constipated.

From one side came a rapid squeaking of metal, mingled male grunts and muffled female gasps. The cabin crew were taking full advantage of their live and helpless cargo. Were they screwing Sondra? Jill hoped she remembered to abandon any remaining shred of pride and take all the pleasure she could out of it. That was all that was left to them...

Despite her anguish Jill must have dozed, because was woken by the bumps and jolts of the plane landing. Was this it, had they reached Tartarus? The plane taxied and came to rest. The engines cut leaving a numbed silence in place of their monotonous drone.

There came a mumble of voices from the forward end of the plane and the clunk of opening hatches. Hot sun-baked air washed over Jill's body. With rustle of fabric Jill felt some sort of cover being pulled over her cage. She heard new voices chattering in some foreign language. Greek, she thought it sounded like. Were they in the Mediterranean?

With bumps and scrapes the cages were unloaded, slung between two men at a time carrying them by the handles hooked on each end. Jill felt herself swaying between them until she was set down on rough boards and slid along until her cage banged against another. More cages were piled around her. With a thud and rattle a door slammed shut, a diesel engine growled into life, and they bounced and jolted away.

There followed twenty minutes of stop-go driving through what sounded like a snarl of honking, impatient traffic, during which Jill's cage became stifling hot under its cover. Finally the lorry came to a halt again. The back flap was lowered, and the cages were dragged out. There were sounds of activity all about them. Was this Tartarus? Dripping with sweat, Jill felt a welcome draft of fresher salt-tanged air seeping under the corner of her cage cover. They were by the sea. Where to now?

The cages were arranged in a pile and what felt like ropes were wrapped about them. A command was shouted, a heavy motor whined, and they were jerked into the air, twisting slowly this way and that as they were swung up and round and then dropped with alarming speed. They had been put in a cargo net and were being hoisted aboard a ship.

Jill felt they were being lowered further than they had been lifted. They were going down into the hold. They bumped down onto a deck, the net was freed, and their cages were lifted clear and stacked in a row on one side. Somebody went along the line of them pulling off their covers. Jill sucked in a grateful lungful of cooler air, carrying with it the scent of fresh vegetables, fish, olive oil and a whiff of cigarette smoke. More shouts, clangs and rattles followed. Then a heavy engine throbbed into life, setting the deck vibrating, and Jill felt a surge of motion. They were underway...

Perhaps another hour passed before Jill heard the tramp of feet in the hold once more.

'So, more pussy angels all sailing to hell,' a thickly accented hearty voice boomed out. 'Let me look on your pretty faces...'

People moved down the line of cages. Jill felt hands unfastening her gag and then her blindfold. She screwed up her eyes against what seemed to be dazzling light, the first she had seen for half a day. Gradually her sight adjusted. The light came from an open deck hatch through which could be seen brilliant blue sky. It illuminated girders and deck plates mottled by peeling paint and rust, stacked crates of all sizes, dangling chains and three men standing before the row of cages. Two were young, muscular dark haired, with grins on their faces and prominent bulges showing through their worn and work-stained jeans. The third man was older, swarthier, bearded and burly, with a potbelly contained by a broad leather belt. Greying hair showed under his battered peaked cap. He was beaming lecherously down at them.

'It is no matter what you see now, pussies. Cry out if you wish for there are none but the gulls and fish to hear. You are now guests of Captain Spiros and his poor crew. We carry the cargos, we get paid, and we ask no questions.' He scowled. 'But you look tired, my pretty pussies. You need the blood putting back in your cheeks and cunties...'

He clapped his hands. The younger seamen fetched wine bottles with long straws in them and went down the line of cages making each girl suck up several mouthfuls of coarse red wine. The wine burned in Jill's empty stomach, but at least it dulled the persistent stinging throb of her brand.

'That is better,' Spiros said. 'We do not want to deliver cold fish to Tartarus. Now you have some colour in you let me look you over.' As he spoke he walked along the line of cages, grunting as he bent over to peer at their faces, reaching through the feeding slots to turn their heads to inspect their profiles. When he reached the end he returned along the back of the row, patting and pinching their bottoms and fingering their pubes. 'They have my envy, those who can afford to stay in Tartarus. What a paradise to be surrounded by such as you all day long to do with as they wish! Alas, I am but a poor sailor. I must take my pleasures as they come my way.' He grinned, showing a gold tooth. 'For a few short hours you are in my care. We agree to deliver you to Tartarus still packed up like the tinned sardines.' He shrugged expressively. 'But who knows or cares if we take one of you out for a stretching of her legs... and other things? Now, which shall it be? I think... this little blonde one here...'

He unlatched the front of a cage along the line from Jill, unhooked the bungee cords securing its contents and pulled the girl out by her hair. It was Sondra.

Jill bit her lip but said nothing, for she could do nothing to prevent what was to come.

With her wrists still manacled behind her back Sondra whimpered in pain as the two young seamen lifted her stiff and bent body up straight before Captain Spiros so he could admire her slim body. With large, gnarled hands he stroked her firmly rounded buttocks, her small high breasts with jutting pink nipples and her tight golden pubic curls. He released the clip holding her labia closed and fingered her pouting cleft and cupped and fondled and tweaked her proffered flesh while smiling into her wide, helplessly resigned eyes.

The younger men turned Sondra round and bent her over so Spiros could inspect her haunches. Spiros fingered the head of the cork plugging her anus. 'Ah, the heat that must be in here,' he mused. 'But like the good wine it must stay corked...'

A year ago, Jill knew, Sondra would have arrogantly spat in his face and tried to gouge his eyes out merely for touching her. Now she was spiritless and broken; reduced to a timid slave that invited either protection or exploitation. The sight of her rekindled in Jill a glimmer of the old lust that had died when Sondra had so shockingly and publicly rejected her at the Purgatory Club. Now she was the confident one and Sondra the weaker, but it gave her no joy. She found she pitied her and felt responsible for not realising how vulnerable she was, but she no longer felt that foolish puppy love. So much had changed so quickly.

A timber beam hung against a stanchion just above head height. Several lengths of clip-ended chain dangled from it. The men carried Sondra over the post, pressed her back against it and looped the chains under her arms and across her chest, pulling them tight before clipping them in place so they supported her weight. Then they lifted legs off the ground so that her knees nearly bushed her breasts, pulled them wide and looped the outermost of the hanging chains under her knees, forcing her back to bend, lifting her hips and holding her groin splayed open and inviting.

Spiros gazed almost reverentially at the sight of her suspended body and the enforced pout of her out-thrust and deep-cleft vulva. 'By the saints, you are a true angel. And such skin of pink and gold. It longs for the lash...' He unbuckled his belt and slipped it off, doubling it over in one hand. 'I shall make that so pretty bottom of yours dance until you beg to serve me and all my men...'

The belt swished and cracked. Sondra screamed as it licked across her taut buttocks and the exposed mound of her sex, leaving a scarlet stripe across her pale flesh. Spiros struck again, setting Sondra writhing and jerking in her chains, sobbing and yelping miserably

Dizzy from the wine Sondra's distress tied a knot in Jill's stomach even as her own sex pulsed hotly and grew wet. Sluttishly, she empathised with what Sondra was undergoing and wished she could take her place; knowing she could turn the men's pleasure into her own.

Finally Sondra began to beg shamefully. 'Ahh! No more... please screw me, Master... eek! I want you to fuck me... Ohhh! All of you, fuck me, pleeeze....!'

Spiros threw aside his belt and ripped open his flies to free a thick stubby erection. Clasping Sondra's buttocks in his calloused hands he rammed into her. Sondra screamed in despair and wretched delight, her chains clinking with each brutal thrust.

Jill writhed in frustration in her cage. Find the pleasure, Sondra, she thought over and over. Don't let this be all for them. Pretend it's your fantasy.

Spiros snorted like a bull as he came inside Sondra. As soon as he pulled out of her and stepped aside, mopping the sweat from his brow, one of the younger sailors placed a bucket at the foot of the stanchion under Sondra's groin. Then he took up a fire hose and flushed her out. Sondra yelped at the cold water bubbling and foaming out of her freshly ravished vagina. Turning off the flow and dropping the hose, the seaman freed his straining erection and thrust it into her sopping sex.

Over the next couple of hours Jill watched as half a dozen crewmen came down to the hold and made use of Sondra's sweaty exposed body, reaming out her flushed and engorged vulva that dribbled her juices and theirs onto the deck. It was only with the third one that Jill saw Sondra reach orgasm and lose herself in sluttish delight at her degradation and the raw force of lust. But the interlude was all too brief and then she sank back into tearful, joyless dejection. Jill knew her ordeal had been mild by Purgatory standards and Spiros and his crew had taken their simple pleasures without undue cruelty, yet Sondra appeared exhausted and broken. If Tartarus was as severe as Viper and Bison had led them to believe, how long could Sondra survive there?