Spring Brea

My name is Celia D. Carter. I am an attractive and fit 40 year old, happily married with two children by the names of Peter and Megan. My husband Bradley and I live and work in Chicago. We are the principals in Carter Holdings LLC He is our Attorney/Partner and I am the Managing Partner. The story I am about to relate to begins in 2010 at a meeting in one of the high rise office towers in the Miami business district.

I was attending to evaluate a potential hotel construction project in South Beach. My purpose in attendance was to see if our firm would be interested in participation. We needed to be comfortable with the other investors, construction companies, operating hotel chain and the overall project management.

The meeting was conducted on the 25th floor of an office tower in a conference room with panoramic views of the city and ocean. There were at least 25 people seated around the table and it took almost fifteen minutes to distribute business cards and work around the table with introductions. There was a fairly even distribution of bankers, attorneys, contractors, hotel execs and the movers and shakers who were attempting to get the project off the ground.

I was one of the first to introduce themselves and I then tried to be attentive as the rest of the participants spoke. Across the table from me were two vaguely familiar men who I took to be local investors. The two of them had initially checked me out quizzically and then started quietly typing on their laptops. I initially put this out of my mind and tried to concentrate on the topic at hand. The meeting went on for about two hours and then the coordinator called a fifteen minute bio break. I took advantage of the pause to go out in the hall, check my mail and use the ladies.

I was just coming out of the restroom when my phone pinged and I opened the email from an ambiguous source. The message read. "Hello Rose. Remember Spring Break '90? Will call you at 7PM." Attached was a .jpg of a nude woman kneeling with her back to the camera. Her hands were bound behind her back and a chain attached to her collar went off screen. The only identifying marks on the woman was a tiny rose tattoo low on her right butt cheek.

I was shocked to see the pic to say the least. Of course I knew who the woman was and yes I still had the tattoo on my butt. My shock was in that a picture of that experience existed and that the original was probably possessed by someone at this meeting. Upon reflection, it was probably one or both of the guys across the table from me who had given me that quizzical look earlier.

Sure enough, as soon as I sat down they both had sort of a subtle smirk on their faces. I gave them a pleasant grin and nod and searched though the business cards until I came to T.J. Bennington III and Calvert S. Wellbourn Jr. Both were principals with B&W investments. Probably big fish in Miami society but small potatoes in the outside world.

After the meeting reconvened I listened with one ear because I had already decided to pass on the project. My appraisal was that it was under financed, the environmental issues were troubling and I didn't trust the two assholes sitting across from me at the table. What I did between then and noon was to send off two encrypted emails to local associates, another to my home office telling them this project was off and that I would be back after lunch tomorrow. Then I drafted a short note to my husband telling him that he better be ready for some really extra special loving tomorrow night.

As the meeting broke up at 12, I excused myself from the luncheon and told the organizer that we would not be going forward with financing but that I wished them all the best in the project. I then caught up with T.J. and Cal and told them to be at my hotel, room 876 at 8:00 sharp. Both of them looked a little sheepish but collectively shrugged and said OK.

I took a cab back to my South Beach hotel and got the girls into a nice little brown bikini that went well with my complexion and hair. I staked out a chaise on the pool deck and took off my top, lathered up and laid back to soak up the sun. As I did, I thought back to March of 1990 and Spring Break. Back then I was a northern girl attending her dream school, the University of Miami in Coral Gables. I was a 20 year old Junior hard body who stayed in town for Spring Break to party over on the beach with my roommate and other friends. I was quite a few degrees removed from virgin at that point and while I didn't think of myself as a slut, a case could probably be made that I was. Anyway, my roommate and I were between boyfriends and were crashing over on the beach. We were definitely on the prowl for male companionship.

I think it was around the second day on the beach and we were in a mob of drunk, really drunk and super drunk kids We had sort of hooked up with a couple cute guys and somehow ended up in a foursome pile in a king sized bed. I guess fucking was involved but I'm not at all sure of all the details. Eventually I came around and it was one of those "Jesus, I'm fucked" moments. From what I could tell I was still nude but trussed up with shackles, handcuffs and ball gag. There were multiple other girls on the bed with me but I didn't recognize any of the ones whose face I could see. After what seemed like an hour or so a couple guys in masks came in and one by one carried us out into another room that was made up to look like a dungeon. By the time I was carried in, the other girls were suspended from chains with their feet barely touching the floor. I was added to the lineup. My ankle shackles were fastened to eyebolts in the floor and my wrists to the chains overhead. I also remember having to pee really bad and like the other girls, eventually just lost it and went on the floor.

More time passed and eventually another guy came in and we were hosed off to clean up the pee. After we air dried another guy wrote something on our stomachs. More time passed and then gradually the room started filling up with guys. Eventually there were like 40-50 men all wearing these weird little Lone Ranger masks. Finally one with a mike stepped forward and announced the rules for the auction. I guess now we knew what was going to happen to us. One by one a spotlight shown down on each of us and we were auctioned off like cattle at the state fair.

It was sort of a blur but I think most of the girls went for about 1500, another went for 1600 and I brought in the gigantic price of 1950. After we were sold, singles or groups of men stepped forward to claim their purchase. Lucky me was bought by a group of three. Then it was chains off, hood over head and a pinch on the butt which probably was a shot because I went unconscious again almost immediately.

When I woke up I was cleaner smelling but wearing a collar and a light weight chain that attached me to a bolt in the floor of the room. I was on a raised platform bed of some sort and the ball gag was out. I must have been on some kind of surveillance camera because no sooner was I awake than a hard looking woman came in and said

"So we see you're awake hon. Let me give you the poop on what's happening to you. Three guys have purchased the rights to your body for the next three days. You can expect just about every sexual perversion you have ever imagined to be done to you. They aren't supposed to permanently mark you, break anything or cut you. You can expect lots of fucking limited only by their powers of recuperation. If you don't cause trouble they will have you cleaned up and taken back to the Beach on Friday afternoon.

Since you won't be allowed birth control we will fix you up with a morning after pill. They call claim to be clean but you probably should go to a clinic and get tested for STDs. Your chain will allow you to get into the bathroom for basic hygiene. My recommendation to you is that you play along and act like an obedient slave girl. If you do, you'll get out of here with nothing more than a really sore puss and a firm resolve to watch who you fuck next year at South Beach. Any questions?"

"Yes, will they really let me go?"

"I believe so. They do this every year and to the best of my knowledge, the girls have all been released."

And so began my life as a slave. I can't hope to recount all the sex acts that I was part of because they kept me high and out of it. The woman was right however about the recuperation time breaks. The first fucks were fast and brutal but luckily the lady KY'ed me first. The second round was slower and I had to perform dances and masturbation fantasy tableaus for them. I took the advice and played like I was having a good time. I knew I was being doped up with something but I still tried to pick up details about my surroundings and who the guys were. The later was easier than the former. The only time I was let out of the house was at night and that was because one of the guys liked open air fucking on the beach. He would truss me up, put a bag over my head and take me outside. The mistake he made was that the bag gaped open while he was humping me from behind. I was able to memorize the registration number on a boat that was on a trailer in the side yard. The guys were harder but I picked up little details on each of them and then on the last day when they were getting careless with me I struck it rich. I was in charge of serving booze shots and I managed to hide shot glasses with their finger prints under a mattress.

Surprisingly I was told the truth and on the last day I was allowed to put on my bikini and given my fanny pack. Hypo in the butt and out like a light. I woke up some time later face down on a towel on some beach. I rolled over and after a while was able to sit up. When the world stopped spinning I opened my fanny pack and sure enough, my wallet and cell phone were there. I pulled out the phone and there was enough charge to dial 911.

The cops that arrived must have seen a lot of coeds who cry rape when fun turns into something else but when I described my ordeal they had me transported to the emergency room for a rape kit and exam. My tox screen showed a bunch of date rape stuff and my vagina showed the abuse of 30 or so forced fucks. This was in the early days of DNA screening but they scooped the deposits out anyway. I also needed a number of stitches to mend torn tissues and a couple shots to ward off any potential STD's. My Dad was notified and within the hour, he and two of his associates were on their way from Chicago using the family Gulfstream.

Michael De Luca was holding my hand and crying quietly when I woke up in my hospital bed during the night. He held me in his arms and told me everything would be alright. His Capos whom I had known from childhood were in the shadows behind him and I could see they were also upset that something so horrible could happen to the little girl they had bounced on their knees.

Once we got the emotion out of the way I told them the I hadn't given any details to the police as was the standard operating procedure in our family. I then recited the registration number of the boat that I had memorized, gave them my best guess as to where I had been taken, described the three men in detail, described the woman assistant and told them where I hid the shot glasses. The Capos were on the phone reaching out to local associates immediately.

Before I drifted off to sleep again I made my dad promise that when they found the assholes, I would be present during the questioning, punishment and disposal. He looked me deep into my eyes and asked if I was serious and I answered

"Its the only way the horror of what those pigs did to me will ever go away daddy. I want them to suffer like I did and I don't want to go around the rest of my life worried that it will happen again so I have to be there. OK?"

My dad took me to a nice hotel for Saturday and Sunday and he and I actually had a pretty good father daughter weekend lounging around the pool, sipping umbrella drinks and eating wonderful seafood. From time to time his cell would ring with an update They had located the house from my boat information right away on Saturday. It was a rental and a cleaning crew was already there but the glasses were under the mattress where I said. My woman guard was on the lease as the renter but her transactions had all been by mail. The prints did however identify one of the rapists and after a short but painful questioning he divulged his associates and in fact the entire organization behind the slave auction.

On Sunday night Dad asked me again if I wanted to be part of this and I insisted that yes I did. After dark we drove out to a warehouse in the Everglades and that night I not only became an adult but in my Dad's eyes, equal to any of his "made" men.

The three rapists were suspended from the ceiling naked in a similar fashion to how their girl slaves had been displayed. They all showed signs of heavy beatings but their eyes were open enough to recognize me as I slowly inspected them. Their eyes widened when I requested a switch blade from one of the Capos. I whispered to him what I wanted to do and he smiled wickedly and hurried off to get what I had requested. A few minutes later I was dressed in a surgical gown to protect my clothes, gloves and boots. I'm not going to detail here what was done over the next few hours. Just let it be said that much blood was shed, revenge was taken in full measure and a red meat meal for the sharks in the Gulf Stream was created and filled a dozen garbage bags.

Monday was a school day and Dad kissed me goodby that morning at my dorm. Jan was there and was relieved to see me. She didn't know if she should file a missing persons report when she couldn't find me and said if I hadn't shown up today, she would have.

Needless to say I had some real trust issues when it came to dating after I healed. The one positive thing that came out of the experience was however the new relationship with my Dad. Our family had always known that dad was a boss in the Mafia but intentionally we never discussed details of anything significant. Business wise the biggest problem Dad had was that he and Mom produced four daughters. I was the youngest and its sad to say but I got almost all of the brains and most of the looks. All three sisters married before getting out of college. They did not marry well and promptly became fat assed baby factories. All of my brother in laws had very minor OC jobs but without any major kind of responsibility. Dad had always appreciated my smarts and complimented me on my grades and academic successes often. Now however he took pains to include me at age 20 in his plans for the future of the Family. In three years I would have my MBA and would be on my way to turning us into well financed legitimate businesses. When Dad stepped aside, I could in essence be the first female Don.

I had always gotten good grades but now I bore down and really excelled. I quit the party girl role and even took extra courses and internships during the summers in areas that needed work. I took my MBA at the University of Chicago and it was there that I met Bradley Carter. We met when we were assigned a project together and despite my practiced antipathy towards men, I hit it off with him immediately. He was from old Chicago money and of course knew who my Dad was. He said truthfully that it didn't bother him because his Grandfather was a former IRA terrorist and worked for both O'Banion and Bugs Moran before Capone ended his career on Valentines Day. His dad built the family fortune starting with the bootlegger profits and married into a poor but prominent society family. My Dad and Brad had an open discussion about about the old days and it turned out that our Capos both remembered stories of Brad's wild grandpa.

Before we committed sexually, we had a long discussion about my promiscuous days and an even harder one about my experience as a slave. He was supportive, understanding and not at all put off by all that I told him. When I hinted that some sort of final solution had taken care of my purchasers he congratulated me as having done the right thing.

Sex with Brad was at first quite restrained. In fact, when we finally did have intercourse it was like giving up my virginity again because of my surgical repair. Gradually I relaxed and found in Brad the warmth, romance and pleasure that would be the basis for a long healthy relationship and no doubt marriage.

Speaking of marriage when we began casual and then more and more serious talks about the direction in which we were moving, I told Brad that I was going to be involved in the family non OC business interests. The problem of course was that the invested money may not always completely pass the smell test. If he had any reservations or problems with this, now rather than later would be the time to speak up.

We also went to Dad and had a similar discussion with him. All three of us wanted to be on the same page and in the long run, Brad turned out to be a terrific asset as my Partner in the family LLC. Six months after our wedding, Carter LLC was formed with Brad and I as Partners and a with a number of Dad's financial ventures undergoing a slow process of assimilation from the dark side.

Now 16 years later we have a squeaky clean LLC, a happy loving marriage, two teenage kids that are the smartest and cutest etc etc. I also have an old picture of me in slave regalia and two swarmy assholes wanting to chat and having agreed to come to my hotel room at 8:00.

Before the meeting I set in motion a number of plans after discovering that T.J. Bennington III and Calvert S. Wellbourn Jr were most probably fellow Spring Break 1990 party goers. However, I didn't truly recognize either of them but we would see. From their pics, time had not been good to them. One of them was short, fat and bald and the other had the look of a recovering heroin addict. Their company, B&W, was a local Miami parking place for old money and was reputed to be poorly managed with crappy results.

At 7:30 I welcomed four buff young Cuban gentlemen dressed in Laundry Service coveralls pushing two carts. I had them wait in the adjoining room and sipped a mini bar Makers Mark as I watched Fox News. At 8:00 there was another knock on the door and I let in T.J. and Cal. They entered with looks on their faces like boy are we going to get lucky. Their expressions abruptly faded when I displayed a tranquilizer hand gun in each hand. Without comment I just shot both of them in their torsos and at the compressed air sound the boys from the next room came back. Just minutes later we were all headed for the Everglades and a warehouse. It was a longer ride than the trip 20 years ago because of all the development in the Metro Miami area.

Waiting for me was our old family Capo and my honorary uncle, Tony Vicardo He was with me 20 years ago and was elated to come out of retirement and deal with those who had soiled his little girl. He lived over in Boca so he didn't have to travel far. We hugged warmly and exchanged family news as T.J. and Cal were stripped and hung up. One of Tony's aids broke out a nice jug of homemade wine and served it all around while we waited for the guys to wake up. Since it looked like they were going to sleep all night, a cattle prod was artfully applied to both gentlemen's balls and they woke up fast moaning and jerking in their chains. Over the next thirty minutes they were delighted to explain their role in the auction business. It seems that they were the scouts that identified the party girls to be taken and made sure they got just the right dosage of Rhohypnol in their little red cups. Their payment was to be able to visit the sites where the girls were held and to fuck them at least once. They weren't supposed to take pictures but they did manage to sneak in a couple.