'Your choice darlin, what's it to be? Three more of us enjoying your lovely little arse or a whipping?'
'No...' Vanessa cried, shaking her head in dismay.
As if to prompt her into choosing, the cock was thrust back into her arse, making her gasp. The man then withdrew before ramming it back into her.
'So what's it to be then darlin'?'
'Three more of you...' sighed Vanessa.
Chapter Ten
Zoe was led by the leash from the auction hall and back to the preparation room. The men were discussing her sale and had obviously been placing bets on which girl would fetch the most money. It seemed that so far Zoe had fetched the highest price, much to the annoyance of one of the men who had banked on the blonde Boston student.
'She should have gone for more; taller with blonde hair, them idiots in the gallery have got more money then sense!'
'Rubbish, this one's far better. That Boston bitch was too young; skinny long legs and no tits. This one's class; nice full tits and eyes like a trapped rabbit; big and round and dark brown, you can see what she's thinking. That American girl'll be nothing but trouble, mark my words; whereas this one, she'll learn to behave and learn to enjoy it. I can tell; she'll come to love the taste of the whip and that's what the buyers want!'
The men led Zoe into the preparation room where the four girls who had been auctioned before her were now being prepared for shipment. The young girl with the pigtails, whose slender body was striped with whip marks, was hanging from a wooden pole braced over two Y shaped rests. She dangled suspended from heavy hemp ropes that were repeatedly bound around her slim wrists and ankles. When the door was opened and the men led in Zoe, the girl lifted her head weakly and looked at her. A ring gag had been jammed into her mouth, stretching her jaws wide. Seeing Zoe, the young girl moaned plaintively, then her head lolled back and she was silent again.
The fiery tempered American was suspended by her ankles, which were cuffed together, from a hook fastened to the low stone ceiling. As well as anklecuffs, her legs were bound together by three leather straps secured above and below her knees and around her thighs. Her arms were held behind her and drawn close against her back by a strap that was fed around her arms above her elbows then drawn across her chest and buckled above her breasts. A second strap was fastened in a figure of eight around her forearms midway between her wrists and elbows and then around her waist, the strap buckle resting snugly against her belly. As if to reinforce just how helpless she was, she still wore the single leather glove that kept her two hands held palms against each other and was laced up tightly around her wrists. Her slender neck was collared and in addition a ball gag effectively silenced her. For the first time since Zoe had first seen her, she looked resigned to her fate and hung suspended yet making no attempt to escape or object to her plight.
The Japanese girl lay unconscious in the middle of a crate of bananas. She was bound hand and foot, her mouth covered with tape. Two men were piling more bananas over and around her until she began to disappear from view.
The young Swedish girl was far from unconscious. Ball-gagged and bent over a bench, Vanessa could see her bucking and writhing in orgasm as another man took her from behind.
'Right, get the English girl strapped up like the American, they're both going to the same place.'
Zoe knew there was no point in struggling so she allowed herself to be laid on a waist-high workbench and leather straps fastened around her limbs in matching fashion to the Boston blonde who hung upside down, her steely blue eyes watching her with silent sympathy. Once they had her bound, she was given an injection and in no time at all Zoe felt herself becoming drowsy. The ball gag was removed from her mouth. She was already too drugged to do anything and lay docilely as the men prepared her for transportation. For a few moments she managed to keep her eyes open and watched them dealing in a similar fashion with the Boston girl.
When she came to she found herself lying, still bound, on the floor of a tiny windowless room and it was only when she felt the room tilt and recognised the dull humming noise of propeller engines that she realised she was in an aircraft. The room was nothing more than a large locker or storeroom. Zoe had woken to find herself lying face down and now, to try to relieve the discomfort of being bound, she rolled onto her back. Lying next to her was the American girl, awake and watching her.
'Hi there, welcome back to the wonderful world of reality.'
'We're on a plane,' Zoe groaned.
'We sure are. I'd kinda like to know where we're heading but I guess we'll find out before too long. My name's Christy. What's yours?'
'Zoe. Zoe Farquerson. Forgive me for not shaking hands.'
Both girls managed a laugh and Christy edged herself closer to Zoe then lay on her side and looked at inquisitively at her.
'Is it true you're a British Secret Agent?'
Zoe nodded.
'No shit! How the hell did you end up in this mess?'
Zoe was about to try to explain when the blonde girl shook her head.
'Don't bother, that story can wait for another time. What I'm more interested in is anyone going to get you out of this mess and can you get me out with you too?'
'Christy, I somehow doubt it,' Zoe sighed. 'I was abducted when I was in a Middle East country. I'm sure the organisation I work for would have tried to find me but now... God knows where we're heading now. Rescue is out of the question, our only hope is escape.'
Christy gave a resigned nod then a moment later asked,
'Hey, are your ears popping?'
'Yeah, the plane must be descending, either that or we're going even higher.'
Soon it was evident that the plane was indeed in descent and after a short time the engine noise changed pitch then they felt the first sudden jolt as it touched down. Judging from the continuous bumping as they slowed down, Zoe reckoned that they had landed on a pretty poor runway.
The sound of a key turning warned them that the door was about to open, then a moment later a tall, dark skinned man in a turban stood looking down at them. Satisfied with what he saw he then stepped back and gestured to some men behind him, who came into the room and dragged the girls out.
The plane had landed on a worn out tarmac landing strip, the surface of which was cracked and dotted with weeds and grass. The air against Zoe's skin was hot but she found herself gazing at massive snow capped mountains in the near distance. They had landed in a valley, the landing strip encircled by rolling hills. These were covered with rows of lush green plants, which Zoe guessed to be a tea plantation. The mountains, Zoe realised, must be the Himalayas and that they were somewhere in the foothills.
The two girls were lifted into the back of a truck which set off without delay on a rough track that slowly climbed uphill, gradually revealing a wider panorama. Two young men in tattered clothes sat hunched at the far end of the truck keeping a watch on them; one had an old bolt-action rifle while the other held a long cane. A worn out looking Landrover led the way and slowly the two vehicles climbed uphill until they crossed a pass and descended into another valley. In the distance Zoe could see what looked like a fortified monastery and she began to suspect that this was where they were bound.
Nearly an hour after they had first sighted the massive gaunt building, ringed by its high stone walls, they drove through an archway and into the monastery courtyard. The tailgate of the truck was lowered with a clatter of rusty metal and a cloud of dust.