Mike and Sandra Malone, their two gorgeous daughters, and their youngest daughter's best friend all huddled together in the shelter of the trees. The ridge ahead made progress ahead difficult, especially since they were all naked and Mike was still restrained by cuffs and shackles. Sandra was nearly hysterical, her chest heaving and sweat slick across her breasts.
"Sandra, I need you to calm down! Focus!" Mike urged. They could still hear gunshots in the distance, but they were becoming more sporadic. Whoever was firing at whom, a clear winner was definitely emerging. They didn't have much time - not that they'd had much time before.
"Take the girls and go. I mean it, Sandra."
When Sandra hesitated Mike looked at his beautiful wife with imploring eyes, fervently wishing he could put a hand against her cheek to give her comfort. Yet his hands were still cuffed behind his back and shackles chained his ankles so that he could hobble but not truly walk or run. "Look at me, Sandra. I'll just slow you down. Keep the girls SAFE. Do you hear me? That's what matters. That's all that matters."
The determination in Mike's eyes helped steady her, and Sandra finally nodded, biting her lip as her eyes scalded with suppressed tears.
She leaned forward, kissing him voraciously, as if it would be the last time they'd see each other. "Take care of yourself," she whispered. Then, after giving Avril and Peyton a chance to hug their father goodbye, Sandra led both tearful daughters and Katalina deeper into the relative safety of the woods. The unknown dangers of the wilderness were a lesser evil, as far as Mike was concerned. His family could at least find the winding road that paralleled the woods and follow it to a more substantial highway, then maybe get help. Hope flared in his chest for the first time, and it gave him the courage to do something reckless.
If he gave himself up, would he be able to distract the tormentors and help his family escape? That was his vague purpose as he lurched back towards the house. Slowly, stumbling with his hands still frustratingly useless, Mike emerged from the tangle of woods and brush. Maybe if the Sheikhs and their enemies had by some miracle shot each other to death, he could find the keys to his cuffs and shackles. It didn't hurt to hope, did it?
What he found instead was at first chilling and then...appallingly erotic, at least to the baser instincts inside of him.
The house seemed deathly quiet, at first. He saw two large vans spray-painted with camo-colors, all browns, greens, and dark beige hues. The vans hadn't been there when they'd fled the house. He'd have heard them. The front door to the ranch-style house was wide open. He hobbled through, shocked at what he saw. Several men had been gunned down - by the looks of them all members of the Sheikh's team of bodyguards. Mike began to have hope that somehow, some way, perhaps the criminals had all murdered each other.
But his hopes sank when he reached the top of the landing and slowly crept around the corner. He was staring into a bedroom, and the sight made his blood initially run cold. It was the bedroom where he and his family had all been tormented. The murals in gold and silver wove one intricate scene after the next along the ceiling, and the chandeliers threw sparkles of light like diamonds throughout the bed chamber.
He saw Jameela, the young Arab mistress who had tormented him and forced him to pleasure his poor daughter Avril with the tip of the vibrator strapped to his mouth. Mike's loathing toward her vied with undeniable sexual attraction.
There were two young black men in the room with her, and a third dark-skinned man who Mike recognized. Mike couldn't remember Mick's name, but he recognized the man's merciless face easily enough.
Mick sighed, a riding crop twirling between his fingers as his two young protégés held their prisoner between them sitting on the plush comforter of the bed. Jameela's nakedness was a lush, sensual feast to the eyes. Her breasts were supple, ample, and complemented by a smooth, sexy belly above lean but still noticeably curved hips. The Arab girl's smoldering, rich brown eyes were filled with defiance as she glared at Mick.
"I will tell you nothing, impudent scum!" she said.
Mick growled, "Yes you will, little cunt. Just because your Sheikh daddy and his partner made it to the safe room in the nick of time doesn't mean I'm giving up. You're going to tell me the code to the security system to open that door - and you're going to do it soon. My patience is almost gone." Mick smacked the riding crop against Jameela's exposed pussy lips, ripping a low whimper from her throat as his free hand roughly tweaked her nipples and then cupped one of her breasts.
"Talk, slut. Tell me the code," Mick warned.
Mike couldn't believe he was watching this. It was as if his feet were somehow rooted into the floor. He knew he should run, but something inexplicable held him fast. Just then a young, lithe black woman sauntered into view.
Mike had never seen a girl so beautiful in his life - at least not of the dark-skinned variety. The girl was completely naked except for the swooping phoenix tattoo that wrapped around her left leg. The chocolate hue of her smooth skin and her shapely ass made Mike's dick firm up. The husband and father's cheeks colored with shame.
'What's wrong with me?' he wondered, even as he stood still and did nothing. He watched, tantalized as the black girl made a disappointed clucking sound and seemed to be looking the Arab girl up and down, sizing her up like a piece of meat.
