ToniTaylor
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- May 25, 2016
- Posts
- 427
"Castaways"
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Sex Slave Holding Camp
Somewhere in the Western Pacific
12 March 2024 -- 0030 hours:
Claire Clark slipped out of her bed, cringing at the feel of the cold tile against her bare feet and the cold air on her underdressed body. With the exception of bras and panties, the hostages were required to store their clothing in lockers in a room that was subsequently locked up until the next day. This was done to minimize the likelihood that any of the current 44 young women held here would try to flee in the night. Night time temperatures were barely above freezing, the grounds around the building were covered in sharp, flesh-cutting, volcanic gravel for more than a hundred yards, and -- as if that wasn't enough -- the facility was on a small island with no other land in sight.
The girls here -- wherever here was -- weren't going anywhere other than where the people holding them wanted them to go.
At least, that's what their captors thought.
Claire made her way across the dorm to her sister's bed, finding the 18 year old laying there wide eyed and anxious. Betsy rose at her 20 year old sibling's arrival, falling in behind Claire as she crept quickly but quietly along the wall. At the end of the building, they passed through the door-less entry to the Hygiene Room.
They paused just inside at the sight of one of the male guards -- trousers and boxers around his knees -- leaning back against a sink as a young panties-and-bra-clad woman energetically sucked his cock. With one hand at the back of the hostage's head, encouraging her to take as much as his length as possible into her warm, wet mouth, the man pointed with the other hand toward a bag laying on the floor in the corner.
Claire didn't hesitate, hurrying for the pack and ripping out the clothing and shoes inside. As she hurriedly dressed in clothes that were not her own, she looked back to the guard, whose face was filled with the joy of impending orgasm. She looked to her sister, whispering, "Hurry."
The guard grunted in ecstasy, holding the third woman's head in place as he filled her mouth with his ejaculate. By the time he was coming down from his high, Claire and Betsy were fulling dressed. The elder sister moved over to the scantily clad woman -- now leaning back with her haunches on her heels as she cleaned her face -- and forced a set of clothes into her hands, repeating, "Hurry."
She tossed her coat onto the countertop and looked to the heavily breathing guard as he unhurriedly put his clothes back together. She asked in whisper, "Everything's set?"
He only nodded at first, unable to immediately form words as his brain and body were still enjoying the euphoria of the very skillful blowjob. As Claire waited for more than just a head gesture, he informed her, "The boat's at the dock, and the crew's in their quarters drunk or asleep or both, with the exception of my guy, who I guess you could say was your guy, too."
"The Tower Guard?" she asked as she looked to the other two women to ensure they were ready to go.
"He's a drinker," the Guard said, telling Claire nothing she didn't already know. "I put something in the bottle he hides. He'll be out cold by now, and he doesn't get relieved until oh-four-hundred."
"Good," she said, keeping her appreciation for his efforts simple. She asked the two other young women, "You ready?"
They both nodded. Claire could see the continuing anxiety in her younger sister's face; Betsy knew what was coming, and while Claire knew this was difficult for her sister, she knew it was also necessary. She looked to the guard, then to her coat, asking, "Hand me that, okay?"
The guard had to partially turn his back to Claire to retrieve the thick jacket. When he did, she grasped a handful of his hair to claim control over his head, whipped out a shiv she'd made just this day from her toothbrush, and rapidly and repeatedly stabbed the man in the throat. Her first concern had been to damage his voice box to prevent him from calling out; her second had been to puncture his blood vessels or veins -- she didn't care which, as long as they were major ones -- and lead him quickly toward death. She accomplished both, and after a very short struggle against her, the guard fell to his knees, then to his belly. Blood very quickly began spreading across the tile.
"Let's go," Claire growled in whisper as she looked to the other two women. Betsy's face was filled with horror as she stared at the red spreading all about the man's head and shoulders, but the third female -- Aurora -- only leaned over the man and spat at him. Claire understood the woman's feelings, as she, too, had had to service the man's sexual needs to make this evening happen. She growled again, "Let's go!"
Claire turned to leave ... and found herself staring into the eyes of yet another kidnapped young woman destined for the sex slave market. Tamara was wide eyed as was Betsy, but not because of the blood. She asked in whisper with a tone of disappointment, "You're escaping ... and you didn't say anything about it to me?"
Claire -- who, with her sister, had been in the camp almost three months, longer than almost anyone else -- had tried not to get close to the others, knowing what her, Betsy's, and the others' fate was. But she'd gotten to know Tamara enough to feel guilty about the question she'd been asked.
Quickly, Claire grasped Tamara's hand and pulled her closer to the dead guard, saying, "Help me out of his clothes. You're going with us."
The other three women were each surprised at Claire's suddenly addition, but no one said anything. In a flash, Tamara was wearing the dead guard's shirt, coat, pants, and boots, all of which were seriously too large for her.
The foursome slipped quietly back out into the dorm and then out the building's exit. The now-dead guard had unscrewed the light bulb over the door, and combined with the passed out tower guard and the low illumination of the waxing crescent moon, they were able to get all the way to the boat dock without being seen. They slowed and proceeded cautiously, knowing that if they were to be caught, it would happen here. Claire had serviced the man on the boat a couple of times during her two month long preparation for this night, and while he'd agreed to the plan, she wasn't putting any faith in him, particularly after she'd just killed his friend.
Movement on the boat caught her attention, and a moment later, the man -- she'd been told his name was Robert -- was frantically waving them his way. They sped up and hurried aboard as the the boatman leaped out onto the dock to untie the lines securing the boat in place.
As the boat began to push away, Claire looked back to the shoreline ... and began to believe that maybe this nightmare was finally over.