"Sold into slavery" - читать интересную книгу автора (Richmond Charles)

CHAPTER THREE

Susan sat shackled in the back of a black van. Her wrists were above her head, locked to a ring bolt in the ceiling, and her ankles were shackled, a three inch piece of heavy chain between them. A heavy ball-gag strapped in her mouth kept her silent for the long ride. She couldn't tell where they were or where they were going since there were no windows in the van and the back compartment was sealed off from the driver's compartment. She only knew that her feet were in a lot of pain and her asshole still throbbed from the brutal fucking she had been given earlier in the day.

She heard the hum of the tires on the pavement for a long time, and then the van slowed and turned off onto a gravel road, continuing for almost an hour before coming to a stop. Susan heard the driver's door open and slam shut and then a burst of sunlight flooded the dark compartment. A man she hadn't seen before was kneeling at her feet, opening the metal cuffs on her ankles.

As she became accustomed to the light she could see Mr. Rowdy waiting just outside the van.

"Okay, slut, get out," the man said.

She tiptoed gently out and stepped gingerly onto the ground, looking around. One building in particular caught her attention. It wasn't a large building, but the sign above the door read, The Place, in giant red letters. The building itself was only corrugated steel building about twenty feet wide and sixty feet long. "Take her to her room, Sid," Mr. Rowdy said to the man who had unshackled her.

He grabbed her upper arm, digging his fingers in and jerked her forward. "Come on, cunt!"

The gravel dug into her already battered feet, and she tried her best to tiptoe as Sid led her around the corrugated building. As they turned the corner Susan saw five cement-block huts. Each hut contained a steel door with heavy bolts locking them from the outside and no windows in the walls.

Sid led her to a hut with a large number four painted in white on the door. She stood there as he unlocked a heavy padlock, lifted a steel bolt and slid it open, then swung the door open.

"You're living quarters," he said with a smirk, and Susan entered the room. "There's a light switch here."

Sid indicated a red button just inside and to the right of the door. He pushed it and a bright light encased in a steel cage high in the center of the room lit up.

Susan looked around the room. A steel cot was bolted to one of the long walls, a toilet sat at the end of the bed, and across from the toilet was a small sink with a metal cup sitting on it. Along thee wall across from the bed a metal desk was bolted into the cement blocks, a small metal stool pushed beneath it. Various types of make-up sat neatly on top of the desk and a highly polished piece of stainless steel bolted to the wall above the sink was her mirror.

To the left of the desk sat a locker with several shelves in it. This contained hair rollers, brushes and combs. Just above the locker was a clothes-hanging rod with three garments hanging from it. A mini skirt, a halter-top, and a mini dress, all in black.

She had been so involved in looking around the room that she had completely forgotten about Sid until she heard the door bang shut. She heard the bolt slide and the padlock being inserted through the bolt ring and locked.

Looking over at the bed she noticed that the mattress was fairly clean, and folded up neatly on the end of the cot lay two sheets and a wool blanket. She also noticed a drawer beneath the bed and bent down to slide it open. There she found stacks of magazines and novels.

A pair of sandals sat next to the drawer, but right now she didn't want anything on the bottoms of her feet. Beneath the sink she saw a bucket, and she decided that if she soaked her feet in hot water, it would help get rid of the pain still lingering there.

Tiptoeing to the sink, she turned on the hot water and with the steel cup filled the bucket halfway, then pushed it to the cot, sat down and put her aching feet into the bucket.

Susan sat in her room, the three meals a day being brought in her only means of telling how much time had passed. No one spoke to her, and when she would speak to the man who normally brought her meals, she would receive no reply. Finally she began reading to pass the hours between meals. Then, on the morning of the third day, things changed.

Susan had woken up, cleansed herself at the sink and was sitting on her bed waiting for breakfast, which usually arrived right after she was through washing. Susan heard the key in the lock and the bolt slide open, but this time a girl in her early twenties brought her tray in.

The girl put the tray down on Susan's desk, then turned to face Susan.

"You are Susan?" she asked.

"Yes," Susan said, a little surprised at having been spoken to.

"As soon as you have finished eating, Mr. Rowdy will be in to see you," the girl said.

"Do you know why?" Susan asked.

The girl turned away from Susan and walked to the door, where a man stood. She stopped, turned back to Susan and spoke. "We do not question our Master's orders."

She went out and the steel door slammed shut behind her.

An hour later the door opened again. The girl had returned, and following behind her was Mr. Rowdy. As the girl picked up the tray from the desk, Mr. Rowdy slid the steel stool out and sat down to face Susan. The girl stood at his side.

Susan felt a little uncomfortable as Mr. Rowdy stared at her. "After your evening meal, Melissa will be back to help you with make-up and get you ready for this evening's show. You will do whatever Melissa tells you without question, and during the show you will perform without question, regardless of what is done to you, or what you are asked to do. Should you, in any way, fail to do as told, you will regret it. Do you understand?"

Susan saw the hateful glare burning into her body and knew the man meant what he was saying. "Yes, Master, I understand."

Mr. Rowdy stood up. "Fine, see that you do."

Then he and the girl left.