Chapter 21

Waiting for Marco Perez’s guests to arrive for his annual gala, a dozen women huddled near the oak and mirrored bar in one corner of the mansion’s large room. Some from north of the Rio Grande. Most from south of it. They had been brought to the mansion the day before, spending the night in guarded bedrooms set aside for people like them. Two to a room. Some were tall. Some short. Some blonde. Some brunette. As different as they were from each other, they had one thing in common. Marco owned them. That, and they were dressed the same.

The women wore high heels that accentuated their calves. Their legs were encased in black fishnet stockings. The dark band at the top of the thigh-high stockings stopped short of the bottom of the miniskirts, which were so tiny the lower roundness of their buttocks showed with the slightest movement. It was useless to even try to be modest. And there was nothing on underneath. The women were naked from the waist up except for bowties around their necks. Each tie matched the color of the woman’s miniskirt.

Extra guards brought in for the annual event stood against the walls throughout the room, the straps of their submachine guns slung on their shoulders. Only Marco’s closest friends and business associates were invited to this celebration, but in his business a friend or business partner could turn on him. Better to display a show of force. The guards kept watch, but with no guests having arrived yet their eyes ogled the women. It didn’t go unnoticed by the women who knew that when the party was over they would be given to the guards. Those loyal to Marco were rewarded.

Marco sat in a big leather chair with his hands clasped behind his neck admiring the women—his girls. In their twenties or early thirties, their breasts were firm and perky. Their bellies flat. Except one woman who was standing apart from the others. She was older, in her early forties. Having birthed and breastfed four children, Mrs. Garcia’s tits sagged and there were stretch marks on her belly. And a little flab. Whereas the other women’s miniskirts sat low on their hips and were no more than a wide belt that flared at the bottom for easy access, this older woman’s skirt was just as short but came up above her bellybutton. Marco had put her on an exercise regimen that helped tone her body, but she needed more work. And there was nothing to do about her sagging breasts other than surgery. Mrs. Garcia was new to his herd and was there as a star attraction.

Marco walked up to Mrs. Garcia. The other women scampered farther away and watched with interest and trepidation.

“Thank you for joining us today,” Marco said to the older woman.

Mrs. Garcia glared at him. “Did I have a choice?”

“Not unless you wanted to pay the consequences for disobeying me.”

She pressed her lips together and folded her arms over her chest. Marco yanked her arms straight down to her sides and held them in a tight grip. Mrs. Garcia grimaced.

“Those tits are not to be hidden tonight,” Marco said. He released her arms. “You’re not as young as the others, and your body isn’t as firm, but some guys like older women.” He pinched her nipples and twirled them. “And guys love long nipples like yours.”

To her dismay, the thick nipples grew to more than half an inch long. They had been an embarrassment to her her entire life. Even before her tits grew, her long nipples had poked out the front of her shirts. Too young to wear a bra, she had lived with the shame and teasing. Once her breasts grew she wore thick bras to hide the nipples as much as possible, sometimes even padding them with toilet paper. Now they were on full display. Mrs. Garcia blushed and lowered her eyes.

Marco placed a finger under her chin and raised her head. Their eyes met. “So how’d the hair removal go?”

She blushed again, even redder than before.

“It’s permanent, you know,” Marco said. “They tell me the heat from the laser damages the hair follicles so they stop growing.”

Marco’s hand shot under her flared skirt and cupped her groin. He squeezed it and then brushed his thumb over the hairless pubes. Mrs. Garcia flinched and curled her fingers into fists at her sides. Her fingernails, painted an obscene red like her lips, dug into her palms.

“It’ll be smooth as a baby’s for the rest of your life,” Marco said. “Look at it this way. A salon would have charged you a lot of money for the treatment. We did it for free. Although...” he paused as he stared into her eyes with a smirk, “ ... at a salon they would have shaved you first. I hear you jumped around a lot when your pubic hairs burned.”

“It hurt.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was an accident.”

Mrs. Garcia’s mouth opened, but snapped shut. Marco smiled. She was learning. Pushing the right buttons always got his girls to do what he wanted.

His thoughts drifted to Bella Cano. Like Mrs. Garcia, her buttons were her children’s safety. Bella would have been popular with his guests tonight, but he wanted her to maintain that air of innocence for as long as he could. Transporting the drugs to the United States was a critical part of his operation and he needed to keep the border guard happy. Officer Walker liked them like Bella. Being gangbanged stole that innocence. In a year’s time, she’d be used up and could entertain his guests at this event next year. By then, he’d have a replacement for her.

The girl chained in the basement was more difficult. The eighteen-year-old high school senior didn’t have children to threaten. What would her buttons be? Fear was always a good one and was what kept her under control at the moment. He chuckled to himself. And the chain attached to the collar around her neck. Pain was a good motivator. The threat of pain even more. But after tonight, she may be ruined. Marco had seen it before. It might be too much for someone that young. That innocent. He’d seen women filled with so much despair they retreated into a zombie-like shell and blocked out the world around them. Useless to him. But even if that happened, he’d have enjoyed the special night. What was one more girl?

Marco’s attention returned to Mrs. Garcia. “But I bet the needles hurt more. It’s such a sensitive—”

A noise behind Marco caused him to spin around. Being paranoid kept him alive. It was only his guests arriving. He glanced at his watch. Right on time. Marco went to a chair across from the one he had been sitting on earlier and plopped down in it. This one faced the front door with his back to Mrs. Garcia and the other women. He didn’t greet his guests. He expected them to come to him. Pay homage. That ritual began after seeing the movie The Godfather. He used to only want loyalty. Now he demanded respect as well. Reverence.

Soon, forty men were gathered around him. There was no ring kissing, but each vied for his attention. Doting over him. Praising him. Marco held his hand up over his shoulder and snapped his fingers. All the women at the bar swarmed the men around Marco, asking if they wanted a drink. They rushed back and forth filling the requests.

One guest grabbed Mrs. Garcia by the arm as she turned to return to the bar. He dragged her to Marco. “Is she the mother of one of the other girls?”

“No, she’s a special guest.”

“She’s kind of old.” He reached under her skirt and squeezed her butt. “Could lose a few pounds, too.”

Mrs. Garcia turned bright red. They were talking about her as if she were livestock.

“Working on that,” Marco said. “But there’s more to her than you see. Be patient, my friend. There’s something very special about her.”

The man held Mrs. Garcia at arm’s length and scanned her from head to toe. He rotated her three hundred and sixty degrees until she was facing him again. He rubbed his chin while staring at her. Mrs. Garcia’s eyes were fixated on her toes. Her face red with shame.

“Special?” the man said. He reached for a nipple and stretched it until it popped free. “Must be these. Going to have her fuck one of the girls with it.”

Marco chuckled. “I guess I should get things started.”

Marco stood up and strolled to the stage. He stepped up onto the platform and scanned the room. Some men were talking in pairs or small groups isolated from the others. Probably discussing business. It wasn’t often they all got together. One man sat in a chair with his pants around his ankles. He was dark, even for a Mexican. A blonde woman with pale skin knelt between his spread knees with his cock inside her mouth. He sipped his tequila while watching her head bob up and down. With his free hand, he shoved her head down, smashing her lips into his pubic hair. She came up sputtering and coughing. A man standing next to them laughed and told the woman that he was next. And that he was bigger. Several other men watched two women passionately kissing, urging them to use more tongue. Both women’s miniskirts were bunched around their waists. Hands and fingers fondled their butts and pussies.

Marco clapped his hands twice and waited. The room quieted and all eyes fell on him. The blonde’s head stopped moving, but a smack got her going again. The man’s attention was on Marco, though.

Marco cleared his throat. “I want to thank you all for coming tonight to share this special day with me. Most of you know each other, but we have some new people. First, Diablo del Norte’s new chief of police, José Luis Cruz. José Luis, raise your hand.”