Birdcage

It's so rewarding watching a story you've fantasised about for the past 5 years, finally come to life on the page in front of you. Please don't judge me too harshly, this is my return to writing after many years.

This will be a long one, many more chapters to come, so please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback. It is always appreciated.

Happy fapping,

G

Music I listened to when writing this chapter:

Tear you apart, She wants revenge

Hatef—k, The bravery

Flesh, Simon Curtis

Big god, Florence and the Machine

1# crush, Garbage

Arsonists lullaby, Hozier

Chapter 1. The Take

The fabric was coarse and scratchy on her eyelids. That was her first thought when she awoke in the back of the vehicle. It stung her eyes and tugged at the chestnut brown hair at the back of her head where she assumed it had been hastily tied. Her second thought was how acrid it smelt, the entire vehicle smelt of stale sweat, hot and sharp in her nostrils. The smell of men.

Her third thought was not a thought at all, but a thundering ache in her head that hit her like a steam train. She groaned and winced, her temples throbbing violently as if her skull threatened to implode. Joni had only had a headache like this once before; a child in one of her group homes had swung a foam baseball bat into the side of her head at great speed. She couldn't remember why, but recalled one of the carers 'consoling' her that it could have been worse-at least it was foam.

That's where she had spent her childhood, moving around various care home with intermittent episodes in foster homes. Those never stuck it out for long. She wasn't a violent child, not a delinquent or a runaway, she didn't lash out or refuse to go to school. She spent most of her days with her head in any book she could find. Joni could never figure out why they wouldn't work, she would just be put in the back of a taxi one day and arrive back at the care home, her belongings hastily packed into black bin bags in the boot.

The day she had moved into her own flat had been the happiest of her life. Holding that shiny brass key in her hand, the letting agents logo on the keyring swinging underneath. Joni worked hard for what little she had, part time in a shitty Italian restaurant in a shitty end of town, and part time studying in a local college. That meant however that she didn't really have any time left for a social life. Not one single shag in her 21 years. Though she'd had opportunity in the past (many a night in dingy clubs; ink stamp on the back of her hand and free watered down shots) generally they ended with a sloppy kiss, a rough grope, and her politely telling them it wasn't going to happen, and to 'fuck right off'. Her trusty 2 year old vibrator would have to do. It knew what she liked, took as long as she needed and never smelt like cheap cologne.

The vehicle had began to slow, curving around bends and creeping over bumps in the road. Joni cautiously stretched her muscles and found everything in one piece, besides the ache in her head (which had started to ease) she felt fine. She did however find her ankles bound together-legs outstretched, and her arms bound at her front. Another wriggle and she figured she must have been in the back of a transit van or similar, another coarse fabric spread underneath her. She could feel it's roughness through the thin leggings and t-shirt she had changed into after work and absent mindedly remembered she had left her good trainers in her locker. Her feet were bare with her sandals abandoned somewhere along the way.

Murky images flashed in her brain; leaving work and waving to Tucky the cleaner as he started his shift. Turning right into Crenshaw street as usual, past the betting shop. The low rumble of an engine slowing behind her in the dark. Pulling up her hood and slipping away into the alley to the left. Seeing her front door dead ahead and with gleeful relief, speeding her walk towards it. Then the pounding pain in her head and the struggle. She wondered where her hoodie went..it was her favourite.

As she was thinking this, the van slowed to a stop, and her ears pricked at the mechanical whirr of a window being lowered. She strained her head upwards, holding her breath and listening carefully. The voices she heard were gruff and deep, one inside the van and one outside. Definitely not in English. She couldn't be in a different country could she? People spoke languages other than English in England, duh. But then a third, clearly making jokes, his voice high and musical. They erupted into laughter and the car moved on again.

It was at this point that Joni made the realisation that she hadn't said a word. For absolutely no reason. Her mouth wasn't bound or gagged, and it seemed stupid to want to stay silent and hidden when the men in the van clearly weren't going to lose her in the back of it. She filled her lungs and puffed out her chest, readying herself to scream for her life, when the car pulled abruptly to a stop and the back doors flung open.

"Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I? I'll fucking kill you bastards, let me go now, I've got money, do you want money? Want do you want?" She let her breath go in a desperate rant.

"Fucks sake, get her inside"...

Joni's blindfold was ripped off, taking several chunks of hair with it, and her eyes squeezed shut bracing for the bright light. But the room was dimly lit with candle sconces and her eyes easily adjusted and scanned the room. It was a large cold hall with metal walls like a meat locker, no real features other than a pipe running across the middle above her head that a string of women had been handcuffed to. Herself included. She looked down the line-up to see maybe 15 other women, some with mascara streaks down there faces, some muttering prayers in foreign tongues with eyes to the ceiling above. Across the room were three men, all in expensive looking suits. The man in the middle was considerably older, possibly his 60's Joni thought, and the buttons of his pinstripe suit jacket stretched across his bloated stomach. He walked forwards at that moment, running his hand through the thin white hair at the sides of his head, his eyes on the woman next to Joni. He had an awkward smile on his face, pulling uncomfortably across his cheeks in a way that suggested it wasn't a natural expression for him. He reached her in 12 steps and she yelped as his fingers cupped the girls chin and turned her face sharply from side to side. As she turned to face Joni their eyes met. Her's dark brown to Joni's glittering green.

Joni had never seen fear like that before, the girls eyes were wide and pleading, filling with silent tears that rolled out onto her cheeks in great rivulets. Joni wondered for a moment if she looked like that? If her face revealed the fear she tried to hide. "Hold it together, hold it together, hold it togeth..." The sound of the woman's top being roughly torn from her body interrupted Joni's thoughts. The girl screamed and wriggled against the cuffs as the mans leathery tanned hand palmed her soft milky breasts through her bra. This only lasted a second, and was for no pleasure of hers or his, but was like the palming of an avocado in the shop before buying it. Checking for ripeness.

"Some nice ones this season, good job Baker." He spoke to an unseen figure who grunted his thanks.

"This one." He held the girls eyes but the words were for the guards behind the line-up. One of which stepped forward and in a swift practised motion, un-cuffed her hands and tossed her over his shoulder. The girl screamed out, beating at his broad back and searching the room desperately.

"Help me someone please!! Don't let them do this! STOPPPP!" The noise made Joni wince in the otherwise quiet room and the fear in her grew. She watched the older man take out a phone from his inside jacket pocket, type briefly on the keypad and slip it away again, it was at this moment she noticed a curious pin on his lapel, remembering a similar logo on the van from earlier. The simple black silhouette of a bird in a vintage domed birdcage, with sharp triangular wings outstretched and beak pointing upwards. She heard the pained birds cry in her mind, wings beating against metal bars and feathers falling to the floor. She had seen the logo before somewhere. A film maybe?

The men stepped forward and plucked women one by one from the line. They were bundled away as the first women had been, screams echoing down the hallways as they left. Their numbers dwindled and Joni looked to see only one other girl remained beside herself- a beautiful young Hispanic girl whose face was set in a stony expression, eyes looking blankly ahead and jaw clenched firmly. The suited men talked amongst themselves quietly and after a few moments filed out of the door also. Joni rolled her aching shoulders momentarily, and glanced again at the girl.

"Hey" she whispered, her eyes scanning the doorway for guards.

"Hey!" She said slightly louder.

A moment passed before the girl huffed quietly and replied "Shut the fuck up if you know what's good for you."

"Where are we? Please!"

"Are you joking?" The girl turned to look at Joni now, her brows knitted together. She laughed coldly before continuing.

"Somewhere in Russia from their accents, but they have bases all over I think?"

The air was knocked from Joni's body all at once, her knees buckled and her weight sagged into her outstretched arms above. The Fort. Of course.

The fort cropped up on the news occasionally, but generally it was an urban legend. spoken of in hushed tones by a girl whose friends friend was taken. Traffickers of the highest order, with powerful friends in all aspects of society; politicians, lawyers, businessmen. The men who run the world. For this reason they could never find any hard evidence that could pin anything on them, or for that matter even locate them. And every day men and women alike, from around the world, were said to be snatched from their beds and taken into their dark and seedy world. Never to be seen again.

As Joni rolled this realisation around in her brain, she heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. A tall black man, in a tightly fitted three piece grey suit appeared in her peripheral vision. The jacket followed the sharp contours of his body well, and did nothing to disguise the large outline of a gun under his left armpit. He rubbed the back of his stubbled head and sighed "You two are my lucky winners, my virgins."

His face lit up in a cruel smile. And Joni noted that he spoke with a familiar English accent-Londoner perhaps?

"You'll bring in a great bounty for this company, after you've had other uses of course. So, here is the deal. You have been chosen because you have no family, no real friends who will look for you and no real ties to a life away from here...Obviously you are young and beautiful, which also helps." He paused to wink towards the Hispanic girl.

"...but mainly its because you are nobodies, and that is perfect for our line of work. My name is Michael, and I'm in charge of new ladies such as yourselves. I will try to make your stay as comfortable as possible but that won't always be the case. Bottom line however is, that we are in charge. You do what we say, where we say, and when we say it. We want to preserve your beauty before sale, but trust me when I say that we have endless ways to hurt you that won't leave lasting damage on your bodies...nothing but bruises to show for your pain...Proof!" And with that Michael stepped forward enthusiastically, a bright smile on his face.

He moved to stand behind Joni, and although she dared not to turn to look at him, she felt his warm breath at the nape of her neck. *CLICK* handcuffs unlatched and Michael tossed them calmly to the floor.

"Strip."

Joni stood motionless, rubbing her wrists gingerly. She turned her head slowly to see Michaels bright smile still plastered on his face, and her eyes flitted to the open doorway. Her shaking breaths were deafening, the blood rushing in her ears, and she was sure the whole building could hear it too. Could she make it? What would even be on the other side of the door? It hadn't been a long walk from the van but she had been blindfolded. Her sense of direction was terrible but could she?...

As if reading her mind, Michael stepped forward again bringing himself inches away from her face.

"Now, little bird."

She could feel the other girls eyes on her, but to look at her would make it all too real. She turned her head back to face away from him again, and slipped her hands under the hem of her T-shirt. Taking another shaky breath, she lifted it in one swoop over her head and dropped to the floor. Pausing for a moment, she hoped this would be enough, but Michaels silence suggested not. She tucked her fingers in the waistband of her leggings and pulled them down over her goosebumps covered thighs, leaving them in a puddle at her feet. Again she waited for a response.

"Thrilling as the striptease is, I have other responsibilities today. Please get on with it."

Her mouth was dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of it, and her knees shook violently now. Both hands behind her back, she unclipped her bra and let it drop off her arms. She watched it fall; dainty pink cotton flowers on the dusty concrete floor. Before she lost her nerve, she hooked the thong with her thumbs and slipped it down, leaving her bare.

She knew she had a good body, men had told her that enough times. Small pinched in waist (likely from replacing meals with caffeine in her busy schedule) and high full breasts. She had always been conscious of her nipples, puffy and pink as they were, and that coupled with the smattering of dark brown curls on her mound made her look many years younger than her 21. As she shifted uncomfortably, she was mortified to find her inner thighs slick. How could she find this erotic? Something so degrading. The fear buzzed through her veins like ice. She prayed this was a normal response somehow, a fight or flight thing? She pressed her legs together and prayed he didn't notice.

Michael pulled at her arm and turned her around, and as she turned she saw the other girl, chin to her chest and eyes tightly shut.

"You're going to kneel down, and you're going to suck my cock. You don't have to make me cum, but if you bite me I will make sure you spend the next month in your own personal hell."

"Ppplease...I...I cant...I never have. Please don't do this, you've made a mistake." Joni sobbed now, the dam broken and tears rolling unabated down her cheeks.

He didn't reply, but pushed her shoulders down, forcing her to the dirty floor. The grit bit into her knees and Joni sunk down with her head in her hands.

Michael leaned down towards her, took a chunk of flesh at the back of her arm between his thumb and finger and pinched violently. Joni screamed out and wrapped her arms around herself as he did the same with a spot of skin at her flank. "AHH!" Joni cried out again, the skin felt scorched as if she had been burnt. Her soft white flesh turning a flaming crimson under his touch.

"That is my level one. You don't want to meet me at my level 10. Now..."

He unzipped his trousers and untucked his crisp white shirt, just opening the flies enough for Joni to see he wasn't wearing underwear. The bulge sloping down the left of his upper thigh pulsed and grew as Joni looked pleading up at him. She had only given head once before, and she was quite sure she'd done a terrible job. It was a school 'boyfriend', or rather a boy who she had kissed behind the bike sheds on several occasions. A relationship born of peer-pressure and fear of missing out.

He had pushed her for weeks for sex and she just thought this would get him off her back...so to speak. He had smelt so strongly of Lynx deodorant and stale urine, she had nearly gagged, and he had cum down her school uniform after three shy licks. Joni didn't really have much chance to perfect her technique there. It had however gotten him off her back; he was so embarrassed she'd never had to speak to him again.

Michael on the other hand smelt masculine, a clean smell like citrus body wash, and a musky odour she couldn't put her finger on. Joni considered speaking again, and wondered how often women had sat at this mans feet and begged for mercy. He didn't seem the 'ok, I'll let you off this one time' type.

The air felt thick and unnaturally quiet, and Joni reminded herself of the girl at her side, her eyes flitted over to see her politely staring at the ground. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat she slid her hand in, gathering his stiff member and pulling it free. He was 9 inches easily, and a thick vessel ran down the top of it, throbbing gently in her hand. She leaned forward on her knees, the grit biting into her skin again and brought it to her mouth.

Licking her lips instinctively she tasted her salty tears and the remnants of her cherry lip balm. She held the bulbous head between her lips, licking cautiously. He tasted of nothing in particular, just skin and mildly of the washing powder fragrance from his clothes. Joni slipped his member deeper into her mouth and Michael moved to grasp a handful of the hair at the back of her head. He didn't pull her though, didn't move her or thrust, just held her almost as a warning. She looked up to see his eyes burning, mouth pulled into a tight line and jaw clenched so hard the muscles at the side of his face flexed aggressively.

"Like that, go on." He whispered.

Joni sucked him in, letting it graze the back of her throat as she did, and getting more confident with each suck. She felt her nipples instinctively harden, and hoped that he wouldn't notice.

Hands pressed against his thighs, Joni hollowed her cheeks and pulled him tightly in, tasting his sweet precum at the back of her mouth. This spurred her on again, and she hoped desperately that if she could pleasure him, he'd show her mercy in some way. She didn't know exactly what she hoped for...the chance to be freed seemed highly unlikely.

"Enough." Michael spat out sharply, tucking his erection awkwardly back into his trousers.

Joni sat back onto her heels, mouth still agape.

Before she knew what had happened her head snapped back violently and she found herself with her cheek to the dusty floor. Her ears rung and her mouth filled with a tangy coppery taste. She looked up to see Michael stood over her, hand still outstretched from the blow.

"We're done here, I think these ladies have got the message." He winked at Joni, his mask back on, and his cheeky smile plastered on his face once more. She looked around to who he was speaking to, but the room was still bare, it took 4 minutes of uncomfortable silence before two guards appeared and lifted her and the other girl into their arms, both stunned into silence.

Joni found herself in a small cell. The open bars let her see that she was in a block of around 20-30 other cells. It was dark though; so dimly lit with small fluorescent bulbs that she couldn't even make out who was in the cells adjoining hers. She thought she could make out a small man in the next cell over, with a mop of black curly hair, but his face was mostly covered with a blanket. Despite the lack of windows, Joni was pretty sure it was nighttime as most of the other figures appeared to be sleeping. She huddled in the corner herself, in the 'standard issue' brown sack-like dress she had been given, and under the 'standard issue' brown sack-like blanket. The fibres itched her legs viciously but the room was cold and she shivered without it.

She pressed the back of her hand cautiously to her face and felt her cheek still flaming from earlier, the inside of her mouth felt swollen and tender against her tongue.