Message-ID: <37760asstr$1028815805@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: tmquin@NS_attglobal.net (Thomas M Quin) X-Original-Message-ID: <3d51da31.194797341@news.bbnow.net> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 02:50:44 GMT Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Vanishing Point Part 12 (M/ff, NC B and D) Date: Thu, 8 Aug 2002 10:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, IceAltar ***************************************************************** 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. ************************************************** To contact the Author Please remove the _NS_ from the return address. ************************************************ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+