If you're looking for a 'stroke' story, this probably won't be for you. If you want lots of sex in every conceivable way, it may be better to go to any one of the other amazing stories by very talented Lit authors. There is very little of that kind of story here until later. If you hang around, your need for a sex fix will be satisfied. I do promise submissions will come fairly quickly. If you decide to stay, I hope you enjoy. All comments welcome. Maddie.
I want to thank all of you who read The Cabin and sent me e-mails asking for another story. Saving Caitlin is dedicated to you.
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Part I
A Going Away Surprise
"Well, Steve, didn't I tell you she was something? And she'll do anything I say," Carl said, waving his hand toward the center of the room. He was talking to the friend and co-worker who just arrived. "I thought we would play cards for awhile then, if you guys want, we can play with her."
Carl started to close the door and ask Steve if he wanted a beer when he saw two other cars pull up.
"I didn't really believe you had a girl here. Not a bad shape. She's got a lot of bruises on her. What'd you do, beat her?" Steve asked.
"The bitch needs it. Doesn't always do what I want. Lets her know who's boss, ya know," he said over his shoulder as he opened the door wide again.
"Hey, Paul. Hey, Jon. Come on in." Like Steve, they were surprised Carl really had a 'slave'.
Carl had her nude in the living room and they walked around her. Her hands were tied together, pulled above her head, and hooked to the ceiling eyebolt. There were clothespins on each nipple and her legs were spread apart by a broom handle tied to her ankles. He had a full-face hood with gag on her.
"Hey, man, can we touch her?" Paul drooled.
"Sure. I'll have to untie her some anyway to take her downstairs. Do what you want. She's always got a wet pussy and she likes it rough."
Jon noted the cuts and bruises. Although he couldn't see her face, he was fairly sure she was young.
Paul was feeling her up and Steve was tugging on the clothespins. She was flinching and groaning. Jon was pretty sure they weren't groans of pleasure or even pleasure/pain. They sounded more like muffled screams of terror.
"Where did you get her?"
"Picked her up hitchhiking. I told her it was dangerous to do that nowadays," Carl laughed. "Come on, let's go downstairs. The card table is set up and I got a fridge full of beer. Undo her legs, Paul, while you're down there checking out her pussy. Nice one, isn't it?"
"Nice hood. Where'd you get it?" Jon was curious to where Carl might have gotten a hood of this quality when his house was basically a dump.
"I had to deliver a piece of equipment to Kingston today and stopped at the adult bookstore at the edge of town on the way back. Got it there. They've got a back room with some pretty neat stuff. The company will never know I shop on their time," he laughed again.
"How long have you had her?"
Jon watched Carl unhook the girl from the ceiling while Paul removed the broom handle.
"Only a couple of weeks. I picked her up on my way home from work. I'd stopped at Charlie's Bar to pick up a cold six-pack. It was, um, a week ago Wednesday. No, Thursday. Yeah, a week ago last Thursday."
Nine days. Nine days of hell, if Jon was any judge of character.
"I asked her where she was going and she said California or some place out west. I told her I could take her part way. At first, I didn't think she was going to get in the car, but then she did.
"What are you going to do with her?"
"Keep her, at least 'til I get tired of her. She cleans good and gives great head."
Jon thought, 'If he doesn't kill you first, little girl', looking at the bruises.
Carl pulled on the rope still tied around her wrists. Jon grabbed her arm when she almost fell down the steps to the basement and nearly fell himself when the touch of awareness was like an electric shock. Carl hadn't taken the mask off. God, what a jackass. She could have died right then and there. He's got this beautiful girl and he'll end up killing her. Jeez. Jon touched her arm again to help her down the stairs. There was no jolt this time, but he was sure he hadn't imagined the early buzz that sent a shiver up his arm.
When they got downstairs, Carl pulled her to the center of the room. He tied the end of the rope to another hook in one of the beams. He pulled on the clothespins and laughed.
"Come on. Deal the cards. I feel lucky tonight. There's beer in the fridge. The winner gets the bitch first. Well, Jon, I told you I'd give you a good goin' away party. Didn't really believe I had a bitch, did ya? Maybe you can have first shot at her since it's your last day and all. Yeah, that's a good idea. Ya'll can come back anytime and have her," he laughed, nodding to Steve and Paul. He'd already had a couple of beers and it was showing in his speech. It was easy to tell he was excited about showing off the girl to his friends.
Jon didn't consider Carl a friend. Their paths crossed at work, but that was all. This was the first time he had been to Carl's house. Carl worked in product delivery. Jon was a consultant, hired to update the company's computer system. They probably hadn't said more than a dozen words to each other, but Carl had gotten it in his head that they were friends when Jon taught his department how to track, enter, and retrieve delivery data.
Jon got up often to get rounds of beer for his soon-to-be former co-workers. He poured seventy-five percent of his down the small sink in the corner as he pulled four beers out of the refrigerator.
He watched the girl. Carl hadn't let her down all evening and he could tell she was having a hard time holding her weight up. Carl had secured her so only the balls of her feet touched the floor. The strain had rubbed her wrists raw. He wondered how long she had been tied before they arrived. He noted not only her wrists and the bruises, but saw that her ass was well marked...not that he didn't like a reddened bottom on occasion, but this was a bit extreme. He didn't like the look of one of the cuts on her leg. He also thought it was time to move this party to its conclusion.
"Hey, Carl, I want to see the girl spread. Is it okay if I take her down and put her on the bar?"
"Sure," Carl slurred.
Jon got up, untied the girl, and carried her to the table. She was so weak, she hardly struggled.
"Okay if I take the pins off and have a taste?"
"Sure. Maybe we all need a taste. Ya know, kinda a little break. Whatta ya guys think?" Carl's speech was so garbled, it was hard to understand him.
When Steve and Paul answered, their speech wasn't much better. No one noticed Jon wasn't that drunk. Jon also saw that they could barely walk straight. It was getting late and he didn't think they would last much longer. At least, he hoped they wouldn't. There were three of them, and even though they were drunk, the odds weren't good.
Jon looked again at Carl and his buddies, which he privately nick-named the three stooges. Paul even looked a little like Curly. Each was at least 10 years older than he, two to four inches shorter, and somewhere between twenty and forty pounds heavier. Carl reminded him of an old comedian his mom liked, whose name was George Carlin or something like that. Carl looked innocent and cuddly until you got to know him.
Jon considered whispering to the girl that he would help her, but thought it would be better to keep that to himself. He would do what he could tonight. She wouldn't be able to hear through the mask anyway. Nice mask, he thought again, but he would like to see her face. Tomorrow, while Carl was at work, he'd come back. Thank God the plant had to work Saturday. He was thoughtful as he took one pin off and heard the muffled scream. He gently massaged her breast before the three now very drunk men gathered around the bar. He directed Steve's mouth to the free nipple and removed the other pin.
It wasn't hard to see the clothespins had been on for a long time and that it hurt more to take them off than it did to leave them on. Her muffled screams proved he was right. If those clothespins were left on too long, her nipples would lose sensation. That would defeat the purpose of putting them on. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Paul put his face in her pussy. Carl lifted her head off the table and pulled up the lower part of the mask, letting the gag hang to one side. Without giving her time to acclimate, he shoved his cock in her mouth.
"Like I said, she gives good head," he mumbled, running his thumbs along her throat.
When Carl started pushing on her windpipe, Jon thought, 'Shit, he's going to kill her right now in front of us'. He would have to do something. Just as he moved to stop him, Carl fell backwards on the couch and shot his load into the air. Jon exhaled. He looked at the other two; they weren't in any better shape.
The girl was choking so Jon put her head back down on the table. He noted a nasty bruise on her cheek and jaw. What he could see of her face looked nice. He bent his head and tasted her nipple. Even though she was thin to the point of being skinny, she had nice, big nipples that hardened like new pencil erasers.
Half an hour later, he volunteered to drive Steve and Paul home. He watched Carl pull the girl's arms behind her around a post and tie them. Carl planned to just leave her in the basement since he had to work the next day. Carl was in such bad shape that he could hardly tie the knots and climb the stairs. Steve had been too drunk to even get his dick in her. Paul finally managed to shoot a load on her belly after spearing and pumping into her a couple of times.
Jon thought she would probably be okay the rest of the night.
A New Master, a verbal agreement
