Being chained to the slave transport vans bench was ridiculous, Darla thought. A lifelong pacifist, her legs and wrists nearly immovable, Canada can sleep carefree tonight.
Staring at her almost naked body, a young guard with bright red hair sat across from Darla. Prison issued orange gowns were tight, short, basically sacks with holes for her head and arms. If she hadn't kept her knees together, he would see all of her Mistresses favorite pussy. Staring back, she guessed he wasn't even 20 years old. Had he ever...
The van came to a stop.
"Already at the Marshal Compound?" Darla asked, there were no windows in the vans cargo compartment.
Canadian Security Intelligence Service agents removed Darla from her Mistress, Haley Marshal, 6 days ago when Haley reported Darla had knowledge of secure information. Darla's interrogation itself was fast, lasting an hour. For 5 days prior she sat silently in solitary confinement awaiting her turn with Canada's spooks. Cleared of spying, she was being returned to resume her imprisonment as a sex slave.
No answer from the young guard or the guard in his mid-50s who had been driving.
"You didn't," the driver, opening the back doors, gesturing, placing a hand over his mouth, "her yet?"
With a fast hand and forceful yank the young guard grabbed Darla's wrist chains and pulled her into him. Jerking her golden blonde hair, Darla's head snapped upward. Before she could even think to resist, a damp cloth pressed over her mouth and nose.
'1, 2, 3,' the driver counted silently. "She's out, let's carry her over to this picnic table."
"I'm first this time," the young guard insisted, unbuckling his trouser belt. "It's your turn for ass."
"Yeah, yeah," the driver grumbled. "Your getting careless!"
In a snap the young guards trousers and underwear hung on his ankles. Pulling on her thighs until Darla's ass was at tables edge, he pushed her legs up towards her stomach as the driver rolled her gown up. Caressing down her inner thighs, the youngsters fingers parted her pussy. Pressing a thumb in, his cock followed with a single thrust, burying himself deep inside her.
When her gown rested above her breasts, the driver leaned in, licking them furiously. Squeezing them, pinching and rolling her nipples, rising for a breath, "Oh Ms. Marshal is a lucky one to own you," he muttered before diving in for more.
Groping with one hand, awkwardly he undid his trousers. Pulling out his flaccid cock, the driver stroked it to attention. "Hurry up kid! Or I'll be knocking you out of the way."
Concentrating, the young guard paid the driver no mind. Not knowing when they'd get to transport another sex slave, he slowed in attempt to make this raping last longer.
Forty more seconds was all the youngster managed before exploding. Biting his shirt sleeve, feebly muffling his orgasmic guttural grunts. Cum oozed out of her as he withdrew and jumped out of the way.
Without discussion, they worked together. Flipping Darla over, they placed her face down, lengthwise on the picnic table bench seat.
Positioning himself, the driver's hard-on bounced as he spread her ass cheeks and spit twice onto her asshole. Slowly his cock worked itself past her tight sphincter. Darla's ass cheeks jiggled up and back as he sped up his thrusts.
Dressed, the young guard leaned against the van, smoking a cigarette while watching the driver finish his turn. 'Someday, I'll have sex with such a pretty girl who was not knocked out,' he thought.
Three minutes later they were back in the road.
****
Two Canadian Ranger sentries lifted Darla out of the van and carried her inside. Per Haley's instructions they set her on a lounge chair in the atrium and summoned the medic.
"What could she have done to cause you to knock her out?" Haley argued with the driver by the van.
A formidable physical presence, Haley leaned in on him. A weightlifters muscle tone filled her Canadian Rangers polo shirt. Feminine hair, make up, taught breasts and shapely hips let him know she was all woman, a strong woman.
Their prepared lie was not working for Haley. Per their story, Darla jumped Wally, the young guard, in the van. A baton or tazer would have hurt her so they opted for a chloroparalazine-packet. Why Darla hadn't awakened by now was a mystery to them. Usually recipients of this non-lethal approach are unconscious for 20-30 minutes. She has been out almost 2 hours.
"She attacked you?" Haley barked. "She had no reason to do so. Zero! CSIS cleared her as a risk. Guilty of reading a secure document carelessly laying on a desk, that's all. So what benefit would come to her from attacking you? Or was she defending herself?"
"Mrs. Marshall," the young guard stuttered a bit. "She said, 'I'll kill you' and lunged at me. We had to subdue her."
All heads turned towards Darla. "Appears alright," the medic said for all to hear as Darla was placed on a gurney. "Going to hydrate her and be sure."
"Kill?" Haley swung her glare back to the prison guards. "Opinionated, that she is. Violent, no!"
Half-smirks on their faces validated what she assumed, they were lying. 'Bastards think there's no proof, they're untouchable,' Haley thought. Darla is just a slave - should she press the matter? Would her father?
"Sergeant," Haley waved over the General's Sergeant of the guard. "Inform the Prison that these two will be delayed in returning. They are helping me with my incorrigible slave." She looked back at the driver, Vernon, and smiled.
"Gentlemen," Haley turned and walked towards her residence. "Follow me."
Wally, the young guard, looked at Vernon. "Huh?"
"Move!" Vernon whispered sternly. He knew enough not to disrespect a member of the Marshal family. Best to placate Haley for as long as she wants. He want worried, much. The medic said the slave was alright. This will be over soon.
Entering a conference room just before her residence entrance, she held that smile. "Please have a seat," she instructed, opening a mini refrigerator. "Beer, anything?" She snapped the top off a Labatt's lager and took a sip.
"We're on duty," Vernon said. "We must decline but thank you, Ms. Marshal."
"Vernon, and Wally," Pointing at their name badge. Sitting down, she flipped her demeanor. "I know you had sex with my slave. It's cool," she said whimsically.
"Ma'am, we"...
"Please, call me Haley," she interrupted Wally. "She is just a slave, this is all good guys. Having a sex slave is new to me. Having sex with a woman is new for me too. I just want to know what you did, or how. So I can do the same."
Vernon looked at Wally who he figured was about to cream himself. "Haley," he asked cautiously. "How we did, what?"
"Come on guys," Haley stood up, leaning back, extending her hands. Their eyes zeroed in on her hard nipples trying to press through her shirt. "I'm a girl. Tell me, how did you fuck her?" She made fists and snapped them back to her waist. "Fuck a girl - like a man? Please!" She took a long draw from her beer.
"You want us to teach you to fuck your slave?" Vernon asked with a shocked, offended tone.
"Yes!" She shouted for affect, to assure them and exhibit impatience. "Now, how about it? I fuck her, but my strap on slips out. I miss her vagina and end up in her ass." She chugs her beer bottle to empty. "Seriously, how?"
Vernon placed a hand over his eyes, looking down.
"Vernon," Haley returned to a calm, pleasant tone. "Before I get pissed. Before I report you two for raping a prisoner!"
"I went first!" Wally stuttered, eyes wide, hoping she was sincere.
"Fuck yeah you did!" Haley licked her lips, opening the refrigerator. "On duty, fuck it, have a beer and tell me all about it. Did you enter her fast or slow?"
"Wally shut up!" Vernon slapped his shoulder.
Haley gave Vernon a most serious glare. "Sandra," she spoke into her forearms derma-screen. "Assuming you're dressed for business I need you now in conference room X. And bring my yellow bag."
