Chapter 16: Collars, Cuffs, and a Little Abuse

Sheila followed the first guard, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties with jet black hair and an hispanic face. His dark skin could be inherent, but it could just as well have been from exposure to the sun. In any case, he was polite and, unlike the other men who had been involved in her abduction, he didn't frighten her.

They proceeded down a path between palm trees. Sheila was thankful for the shade that shielded them from the glare and heat of the sun. Ed was sometimes right behind her and sometimes one person farther back, behind Wendy. His skin was fair, like her own. Like all the other male captives he had no shirt and, if the palms hadn't been overhead, he would probably have burned.

As for herself, in her skimpy clothing, the air in the shade felt pleasantly warm on her bare skin. The path underfoot ran irregularly up and down sandy hillocks. The frequent jolts caused her breasts to bob, and the thin halter persisted in riding up and exposing her nipples. Initially, she gripped the thin cloth to hold it down, but it was too awkward to walk keeping her hand up. In any case she thought, who would notice? With the sole exception of Wendy, the girls behind her were all well-endowed and, each time that she glanced back, she saw, somewhere along the line, a pair of nipples exposed in the way hers were, by a halter that had crept too high. She gave it up.

Through the soft slippers the sand was warm under her feet. As she followed the guard, she looked to each side at the exotic vegetation bordering the narrow path. Besides the palm trunks, there were huge shrubs with sawtooth-like leaves that appeared as large as tennis racquets. In another context she would have been ravished by the beauty of blue, white, and purple flowers whose blossoms were larger than her hand. She guessed they were orchids, but the others she didn't recognize: they were in all shades of yellow and orange and were shaped like the flared end of a trumpet. They accounted for the many odors that she hadn't before noticed. The invigorating breeze of the sea had decreased and the air was motionless. It was humid and it had the scent of perfume like a boudoir.

They finally exited the canopy of trees and stood in a clearing under the hot sun before one end of a long shed. The structure was squat and ugly, of unpainted gray concrete; its roof was of some corrugated metal and was painted white. The entrance that they faced and the exit at its other end were both doorless.

Over the doorway, in black letters on a white rectangle was a crudely painted sign baldly proclaiming 'Pet Shop'.

"Come on in," the guard told them, and they entered. Sheila felt relief from the shade, but she felt radiant heat from the metal roof overhead. There was no artificial lighting in the building. The interior was nevertheless illuminated adequately by open spaces at the top of each of the long walls, the flat but sloping roof being supported by short metal posts set into the flat tops of the two long walls.

On their right were long metal shelves, loaded with open boxes. The wall on the left was lined with hooks, from which hung objects that sent shivers down her spine. She saw chains in all sizes, manacles and handcuffs, collars made of metal, and ones of leather (or perhaps vinyl). Farther along the left wall she glimpsed what looked like whips. They hung by loops in the ends of their handles. Some were perhaps as long as three feet; others had multi-stranded ends that she supposed would spread out when in use. Some had vicious-looking pebble-like ends. Others were short, no longer than a foot--rugged straps of thick leather. She imagined that getting hit by one of those would feel like being struck by a heavy yardstick.

When the last of the prisoners was in the building, the lead guard took down collars from two hooks on the wall. "Here," he told Sheila, handing her half of them. He gave the rest to Ed.

"Pass these out, one to each person. Then get back here."

When they returned, the guard slipped a collar about Ed's neck. He buckled it tightly. He encircled Sheila's neck with a smaller one, pulling two straps through the buckles until it was snug. He left no slack in the collar and, whether it was made of leather or vinyl, Sheila was glad that the inside seemed soft. Finally, as he had done with Ed's, he fixed its metal hasp with a small luggage lock.

"Stand there," he told her, while he removed a large corrugated box from a high shelf. From it he withdrew handcuffs, some of which he handed to one of the guards who had been following them; the other half, except for one, he set temporarily on a low shelf. "Hold out your hands," he told her.

He fastened the cuffs on her wrists, until they were fairly snug, but not as tightly as he had the collar. Sheila supposed the metal would have become uncomfortable if he had. "Now the link," he said. He removed a second box, and withdrew a narrow chain, about six inches in length, with snap hooks on both ends. "Head back a bit," he told her. Sheila complied, and he connected a hook to a collar ring just under her chin. With the chain dangling from her collar then, he grasped one of her manacled wrists and raised her arms. He snapped the other end of the chain to the ring linking her handcuffs. When he released her wrists, Sheila's hands were bound just under her chin. She felt completely helpless like this, and would be unable to even brush down the thin nylon of her halter if a breeze again exposed her breasts.

Sheila looked down the line of prisoners behind her. The male ones had already been all manacled, with their hands behind their backs, and their wrists pulled up by the chains so far that their hands were between their shoulderblades.

"Is handcuffing us really necessary?" she complained to the guard. "You're all armed; what could we possibly do? These chains holding up our hands are even worse. Suppose one of us trips and falls? What's their purpose?"

"I'll show you," he replied, mildly. Suddenly, he reached up and flicked the nylon of her halter up with his thumbs. He grasped her bared breasts, encircling them with his large hands. He stroked and kneaded them for a perhaps a minute. Aware that the other guards were looking on, amused, Sheila felt her face redden.

His eyes looked down, meeting hers, as he drew his fingers outward to her nipples. He squeezed. Too embarrassed to look up at him, she turned her head aside. He seemed in no hurry, and he worked them, twisting and pulling them until they were both erect. Sheila felt that they must be hard as rocks.

Grinning, he explained, "The chains give us these little freebies. The boss doesn't care." When all the females had been bound as Sheila, they looked as though they were engaged in a common prayer. She noticed that the guards were not finished manacling Ed and the other five men. Their hands had been bound before those of the women, but now their legs were being bound as well. Short rods, of about twelve inches in length, were fastened between their ankles by cuffs on the rod ends. The guard who was crouching before Ed, clamping the cuffs about his ankles, looked up at her.

"Don't worry," he told her, smiling. "You females will get spreader bars. But yours will be too long to let you walk while you have them on. You'll have to wait for your training to get yours."

The guards led them out the opposite end and along a short path in the open sun. The ground underfoot was still mostly sand. Glancing back, Sheila saw that the men were forced to take quick baby steps to keep up, taking two steps for every one that she took. Looking ahead, she saw a large white stucco four-story building whose entrance faced the sea. By now, the water was fifty yards or so down a slope to their right. Sheila tried to memorize the building's appearance. She might have to describe it to Max or the police in the future. With its multicolored canopies, it's red tiled roof, and black shutters, she thought that the edifice looked Mexican. But she'd never been to that country; so perhaps she was mistaken.

As the lead guard approached the concrete steps to a side door, the door opened. A tall man--good-looking, Sheila thought--of about forty years exited the door. He looked athletic and muscular, and he was wearing swimming trunks, tennis shoes, and sunglasses. He stopped for a moment and looked at the captives. He spent what seemed to her an inordinate time looking her over and, feeling his eyes on her, Sheila's face grew hot. Then he broke into a run. He flew past the line of captives and disappeared around the building they had just left.

Ed moved closer to Sheila, and she felt his bare arm touch her shoulder. He whispered in her ear, "I've seen that man's face before. A photo in a newspaper or magazine."

Sheila wanted him to elaborate, but the guard was already urging them up the steps. They passed through the louvered side door into a large room. Against a far wall Sheila observed stacks of suitcases, all identical, which resembled the ones in which she and the other captives had left their clothing.

In the center of the room were two long tables that had been butted together, end to end. Behind these two women were seated; each wore a blue column dress and a gold-colored metal collar. One of them, a slightly overweight but buxom and shapely girl with dirty blonde hair, who looked about twenty years old, stood up.

"Hi there!" she said. "My name is Kelly--you'll address me as Mistress Kelly. Don't forget that. If you do," she said, giving them a wide smile; "I'll have the pleasure of giving you a whipping. Welcome to Ecoliere Island. Please take seats." She held up a sheet of paper from a stack on the table, "Each of you complete one of these forms."

She indicated the chairs along the tables, and the prisoners seated themselves. As Sheila grasped her chair and sat in it--it was of the folding metal type that accompanied card tables--it felt cold and strange under her bare buttocks and thighs. In other circumstances the sensation might have been erotic.

Pencils, and stacks of white sheets were distributed along the tables. A stack was directly before her. Leaning over the table, Sheila was able to (awkwardly) take several sheets from its top and handed all but two to Anne, the brunette model, who had just seated herself beside Sheila.

"My god!" the brunette exclaimed, looking at the stack. "How many women do these people intend to kidnap?"

Sheila glanced at the two guards. One was in the door through which they had entered. The other was with his back to an interior doorway. Keeping her eyes on the two women, Sheila put the two forms one on top of the other, so that it appeared she had just one.

The form was a questionnaire. It contained sections for information that she might have found on an employment form, including her name, home address, age and date of birth, height and weight.

But not the subsequent lines. Those concerned clothing sizes, of everything, from hats to shoes, and included brassiere details. The next section asked intimate questions. What girl, she wondered, would put down the truth about her masturbation practices, much less how many sexual partners she'd had? Sheila couldn't imagine what the management of this place could do with her or any of the other girls' answers to those questions. The questions about vibrators and vegetables made her blush. She wondered how the others would fill in those lines.

The dirty blonde--Kelly--apparently read her mind. Standing up again, she told them, "Be sure to tell the truth about your past sex life. If you don't, especially if you pretend you're more innocent than you are, your training is going to be more extensive than you are going to like."

Sheila finally decided to tell a mixture of truth and falsehoods. Masturbation, 'yes'. How many boys and men she'd had sex with. Did those few times in high school count? She shrugged and wrote '6'. Married? 'Yes', the first big lie. With trepidation, she wrote 'no' to the questions about vegetables. She admitted using a vibrator.

She looked down the length of the table; all the girls were hunched over it, working at writing with handcuffed hands. Sheila crossed out items, then she crumpled the paper and set it aside. She wrote on the second form, keeping an eye on the two women dressed in blue. While writing, she pulled the crumpled sheet forward so it fell in her lap. By the time the women collected the forms, she had, with difficulty and uncomfortably, hidden the crumpled sheet.

After she and the others passed in their forms, the guard led the group through the interior doorway. They found themselves in another large room, but this one was luxuriously furnished. The carpet beneath Sheila's feet was thick; tasteful--and probably expensive- -statuary was interspersed between the deep armchairs and lampstands. Music came from hidden speakers. As they walked in, Sheila saw a bar on her left. On her right, across the room, was an enormous glass window which took up much of the wall; through it Sheila could see the ocean.

Sheila estimated that there were nine or ten men in the room as well as three women. Most were seated and sipping drinks while they conversed. Two of the women were elegantly dressed in evening wear. A blonde woman, perhaps in her late thirties and younger than the others, was dressed in shorts and a halter, with sandals on her feet. The men were all dressed casually, some in Hawaiian style printed shirts and white slacks, some in tee shirts and shorts. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the captives when they entered.

When the two rear guards had entered and closed the door, the lead guard told the group, "All of you wait here," and he disappeared through an inner doorway.

While Sheila and her companions waited, the seated spectators around them began to discuss the physical attributes of her and the other female prisoners, describing the prisoners as if they were inanimate items in a department store. None of the clients appeared concerned that the captives heard their remarks.

A man seated close to Sheila said, "Nice tits on this one," indicating her with a motion of his hand. The woman seated beside him, a fortyish brunette beside him nodded. "Yes, she has, Dennis. If you buy her is that where you'll fuck her?"

"I'm not much into tit-fucking, Eileen." The woman's eyes were on Sheila, looking her up and down.

"Have you noticed her ass?" the brunette asked.

The man nodded. "Sure have, Eileen. Nice cheeks."

"They're adorable," the woman said. "If I were a man, that's where I'd want my cock-- up between those delectable buttocks."

"Well, if I'm lucky enough to get her, it's the first place I'll shove my cock. First her ass, then her mouth."

"Not her cunt?" she asked, curious.

"Well, sure, but I have this fantasy... "

"Which is... ?"

"Sometime I'd like to get two females,... "

She smiled. "A lot of men would like two. But, that would be expensive, Dennis. Very expensive. You men are such dreamers."

"I know, but let me finish, Eileen," he protested. "If I ever do get two, I'll have one girl kneel between the second one's legs and suck her cunt. I'll fuck the kneeling one in the ass. After I come, I'll straddle the second one's shoulders. She'll clean me up and make me come again, using her mouth." "Ugh!" Eileen said. "How disgusting. The ideas you men have!" Sheila felt her face grow warm, but she tried to avoid giving any indication that she heard their words.

At that moment, the door through which the group of prisoners had entered opened and a couple entered. Sheila recognized them as two from the group who had been seated under the grove of trees when the captives had first left the ship. The woman was the buxom fortyish bleached blonde. She still was still dressed in the scarlet gown and adorned with an excess of jewelry. Sheila thought Crane had called her 'Rita'. She recalled that Rita had accused her companion of having 'a fetish for big tits'.