Agents In Harms Way (8 page)

“Actually, Major, she goes with the other one. They are..were..partners, the Federal Agents that I sent El Commandante the message about.

“Ah, si, si, the
Federales
.” The Commandante’s glorified gofer gave the appearance that he was in the know, although the message clearly caught him by surprise. “Yes, of course I have heard that there were female
Federales
, the ones with all those initials, yes? FBI, DEA, FDA, NOW, no?

“Not exactly,” the Captain observed dryly.

The Major shook his head in wonder. ‘Women
Federales
’....what will these crazy Yankees think of next!?

Kip was now ordered to expose herself to their visitor, who laughed as he slid a single finger up between her legs and fingered her labia, while, deeply humiliated, she held her skirt up around her waist.

Mallory stood waiting her turn at the far end of the line.

The Colombian officer let his eyes slowly travel up her naked torso of this one that held herself with all the elegance of a fashion model. In her heels, the tall girl towered over the diminutive Major. His head barely came to the tops of her breasts, and he had to look up, craning back to scan her pretty face.

This superb female was not at all like the cringing blonde. She was proud: standing before the man, perfectly still, eyes far away, and nose raised as if in contempt of the short, skinny, sweaty Latin who looked so comical in his big hat. Guzman’s eyes narrowed as a flood of memories came back to him, of the hated months he had spent in the States many years ago; of the cool, Anglo women who ordered him around, insulting his manhood at every chance, while he was forced to work in their gardens…lying sprawled out in sun in those skimpy swimsuits, so seductive yet untouchable, knowing they were flaunting their bodies at him, while he, Augusto Guzman, sweated in their yards like a peon.

“Look at me!” he hissed, in a sudden surge of anger that startled the woman.

And those unseeing eyes fluttered, and fell down to behold the suddenly irate Major Guzman, meeting his hard eyes with a haughty disdain that infuriated him further. He would break this arrogant gringa, personally, if his General would allow it. She would be his! He would have this bitch on her knees!

He reached up and two gloved fingers took Mallory’s left nipple in a precise, pincer. Closely watching her face, he slowly squeezed that sensitive bud. Mallory’s eyes fluttered shut, and she took a deep breath as he twisted her nipple, pulling on the elastic flesh, stretching her understated tit out and downward while the tortured girl’s eyes clenched shut against the pain. Still holding her by the nipple, he tugged her forward so that she tottered on her heels. With her hands cuffed behind her there was nothing she could do but submit to this breast torture as the sadistic major clamped her swollen nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezed until she clenched her eyes against the pain, and grunted when he gave it a vicious, final, twist.

“Auugh,” the dark-haired beauty cried out, twisting her shoulders in an effort to wrench herself free. The freed nipple stood out, angry and throbbing. The truly evil grin that sat so smugly on those thin lips, reappeared, as the major stepped back to size up his latest prize. For a moment the man and the woman stood glaring at one another, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then Captain Thompson got up, and the little Major took a step backward.

“Bueno, Capitan. You have outdone yourself!” The Major recovered his aplomb. There would be time later, to deal with the tall one; she would be entirely in his hands for three long days. Three days she would never forget.

“Thank you, Major.” Thompson gave a courteous bow, ever the gracious host.

Having fallen into the hands of a gang of white slavers, the three American girls were convinced that their situation could hardly get worse. They had a great deal of time to consider their fate as they rode, jostled and bounced erratically, in the back of the creaky old Army truck, as it crawled its way along the jungle path and into the forbidding coastal mountains. Although the arching canvas cowl of the truck bed sheltered the prisoners from the worst of the sun, the sweltering heat and hard wooden benches made for a miserable ride. And so it was with a great deal of relief that they were finally allowed to climb down as the sun was settling, and the small party found a clearing to make camp for the night.

For their journey, the captives had been lightly clad in T-shirts and hiking shorts with serviceable shoes and thick cotton socks. By the time they could climb down to set up their tent for the night, they were hot and drenched with sweat. Their T-shirts had become gauzily transparent. Wet and sticky, the thin cotton fabric clung to the curves of bra-less female chests, providing their ogling guards with a gratifying eyeful. But to their surprise, the girls were not forced to have sex with the grinning peasant soldiers. Beyond being frequent objects of some obviously crude and dirty jokes in Spanish by their pointing, hooting guards, they were not sexually harassed.

Even though the leering Major (the girls called him “the toy soldier” behind his back), threatened and promised unspeakable degradations, he didn’t lay a finger on them during the 3-day journey. Of course, he had already established himself with their natural leader before they even left the yacht. His commander had made it clear that the women were not to be touched on the trip back to camp, but the cunning Major, a seasoned veteran of Army ways, saw how he might sample those delectable delights that had fallen into his hands without violating the letter of his superior’s order. All he needed was a bit of cooperation from Captain Thompson, and of that he was assured.

So he made a great deal out of the fact that it would be necessary to test the prisoner’s obedience prior to his hazardous journey through the jungle. It was his duty to be sure that the women would not attempt to rebel or flee, he explained with great sincerity. He let the Captain know that, in his opinion, the tall one, the one he had taken to calling “
the Federale
” did not look very trustworthy at all. Captain Thompson assured him that Mallory had indeed learned to obey orders while on his ship, although he ruefully admitted that she could be tiresome at times.

“Would the Capitan mind if the Major saw for himself?”

“But of course,” his suave host, who saw immediately where the ploy was going, had assured him.

Immensely pleased at his own cleverness, the little Major beckoned Mallory to him, and with that filthy leer on his mustachioed lips, reached down to slowly undo his pants, watching the woman’s reaction as he brought forth a thick, semi-swollen penis.

“On your knees,
Numero Nueve, Senorita Federale
,” he gruffly ordered.

Mallory, swallowing her distaste, did as she was told; slid to her knees before this disgusting piece of humanity. Because of the difference in their heights, she found herself facing his scrawny chest, and she had to bow low when he offered her his turgid manhood, forcing her to accept it in her mouth, to take in the proffered penis. All the while the little Major beamed down on her in smug triumph. And as the other men watched, Major Augusto Guzman made the beautiful gringa service him, forcing her to suck on his throbbing erection, while he worked her bobbing her head up and down on his prick with both hands.

The first touch of her lips brought the lusty Latin surging into full prominence, his erection hard and throbbing. He felt the sweet pleasure of her soft warm mouth enfolding his straining sex. It was heavenly!
He looked down with wild elation at the sight of the proud, elegant gringa on her knees before him, her mouth stuffed with his big stiff prick.

Forcing Agent Channing to give him a blowjob had seemed to satisfy the Major’s lust, or maybe it was just that they were under orders not to further violate the prisoners. The girls speculated about the meaning of the soldiers’ strange behavior as they lay in their sweltering tent, fearful in the jungle darkness, and not at all sure of the effectiveness of their “protectors,” whom the girls suspected would run off at the first sign of trouble. And the jungle held many dangers. The first night they didn’t sleep at all, but huddled together in the darkness, terrified by the shrieks and cries of jungle beasts.

Of course there were a few incidents, the inevitable contact necessary when three desirable women were thrown into such close company with four horny soldiers in an isolated jungle. Answering the call of nature posed its unique problems. Not of course, for the men. At each rest stop they would casually unzip and let fly with a luxurious spray of urine directed at the local fauna, while watching their prisoners to see if they were being observed. And if one of the girls was caught looking, there would be a chorus of crowing and joking as the exposed penis was shaken in her direction to the great amusement of the crude soldiers,
who would then grab their crotches and buck their hips at the women laughing uproariously.

While the soldiers took great delight in these rest stops, the girls began to dread them, not so much for the clownish behavior of those simple peasant soldiers, but because when
they
had to pee, they were forced to ask ‘the toy soldier’ for permission. And he made a great deal out of the ritual, seeking to humiliate the poor girl who came to him, forcing her to make her humble request before all the men, and then in the most explicit terms. Even then, she was denied a trip into the bushes, under the obviously flimsy pretext that she might try to escape. Therefore, the petitioner was forced to drop her shorts, to squat and urinate publicly, right out there in the bright sun, under the leering eyes of their guards. Soon the girls were able to numb themselves even to this indignity.

By now they felt that nothing could shock them. It seemed that each day of their captivity, there was some fresh indignity to be endured. So it was hardly surprising when, on their third day on the trail, the little convoy suddenly lurched to a stop near a clear mountain stream. The captives heard the sound of falling water, and looked out to find a bubbling waterfall feeding a large, inviting pool, crystal clear, and surrounded by lush green vegetation, no more than twenty tantalizing feet away.

After hours in the oven-like cave of the canvas-covered truck bed, the girls emerged flushed and hot and drenched with sweat. They felt dreadfully unclean: hair, dirty and matted; faces and bodies streaked with dust. The prisoners were allowed to get out of the truck and stretch their legs, but were told to remain by the side of the trail, as their captors, tearing off dusty uniforms with much whooping and hollering, raced up to plunge into the cool inviting waters.

The women watched with envy as the naked soldiers splashed around joyfully, like eager boys, playfully dunking each other, only to emerge sputtering, shaking water everywhere, shouting and splashing happily in the cool, bracing water. When finally, they were ordered out of the pond, they stood nude on the edge, strutting and preening in front of the women while they toweled off their naked bodies, and slowly went about retrieving strewn pieces of their uniforms.

Once his men were fully dressed, the Major declared that if the women asked politely, he might be disposed grant them permission for a few minutes in the pond. By now the captives well knew that when the Major used the word “politely,” he expected the petitioners to be on their knees. The three women exchanged glances and without a word, lowered themselves to kneel before him, to beg the insufferably self-satisfied toy soldier’s permission to be allowed to bathe. This was smugly granted to them, and they had to immediately undress right there, standing before their captor, in front of the grinning, fully clothed men.

At a nod from the Major, the three nude girls made their way to the edge of the pool, keeping their eyes rigidly downcast, determined to ignore the cat calls and whistles of the raunchy soldiers. Bare feet tested cold waters and jumped back. Then advanced again, hesitantly, until all three girls had gathered up their courage and eased their way into the pond, only to duck down as quickly as possible, to squat beneath the surface so that only their head and shoulders remained visible to the fascinated onlookers.

The water was delicious, a sudden shock of cold that eased off to become delightfully cool and refreshing. Soon they learned to ignore them men, and luxuriate in the gentle waters. Mallory made her away to the waterfall, entered the downpour and threw back her head, to let the falling water splash on her upturned face, and shower down over her body. They were surprised that the Major seemed in no hurry to bring this pleasant interlude to an end.

But when they were summoned back onto the bank, and given a small towel to share, they found that their clothes had been gathered up and were nowhere in sight. Only their hiking shoes and thick cotton socks remained.
To their surprise the guards brought them combs, brushes, and a small mirror they quickly passed around. Mallory ran the comb through her wet hair, reflecting that they were being made ready for something. Perhaps their journey was near its end.

After about an hour, the naked women were ordered back into the truck. The jeep carrying the toy soldier took up its accustomed place behind them, and the little convoy set out once again. This time they traveled for several hours, and when they next stopped, they were high in the mountains, able to look down a dizzying height from the side of the narrow path, onto the rocky crags below. They had escaped the insufferable jungle heat, and though the air was still warm it was dry with a gentle breeze that made it not all that unpleasant to be walking around in the nude.

In time the rough dirt lane began to disappear, and nothing but a tenuous footpath remained to be followed as it snaked ever higher. In time, even this path disappeared and still the determined convoy continued to find it’s way up the rugged slopes towards the summit of a mighty and splendidly isolated mountain. After several more hours of this serpentine journey, the Major called a halt.

Here the air was clear and perfectly still; the blood-curling shrieks and wild calls of the jungle had been left far below under the green canopy that they now looked down upon. The girls were ordered out, and when they climbed down, they found a new recently laid path of crushed stones, wide enough for a truck, even and straight. In the distance, they could make out the shapes of buildings, low-slung, man-made structures of stone, half shrouded in the mountain mists.

The Major strode before them, grinning from ear to ear. He gestured grandly towards the distant compound inviting them to behold their new home “La Montana de Amor,” the Mountain of Love, he called it with a cynical laugh. Then he summoned the three of them forward, and pointed at the ground in the now-familiar gesture; obediently the prisoners fell to their knees. Now, one of the soldiers, an overweight Sergeant named Gutterez, came to them with a fistful of leather straps. Each girl was made to bow her head, while from behind her, the fat fingers of the filthy Sergeant slipped a 2-inch strap around her neck, and buckled it in place forming a high leather a collar.

Mallory dropped her head, unwilling to give the preening tin soldier the satisfaction of seeing her reaction, as she knelt naked before him, a slave’s collar banding her neck. Still working behind her, Gutterez grabbed her wrists; she struggled instinctively for a few seconds, but her twisting wrists were quickly braceleted by a pair of handcuffs. Working quickly, he soon had all three girls kneeling with their hands cuffed behind them. Finally, a thin chain was threaded through the D-rings of each collar, tethering the three captives loosely together.

The watching soldiers were now called over to help get the prisoners on their feet.

It took a few seconds for the two dim-witted soldiers to realize the import of the order, and they jumped to obey, only too happy to have the chance to finally get their hands on the beautiful gringas. They took full advantage of the longed-for situation by running their hands all over the naked prisoners, enjoying the softness, the satiny smooth skin of those well-tanned bodies, copping quick feels with dirty grins, as they lifted the women to their feet before their captor.

The soldiers were ordered to button up their uniforms, and the little Major, slicked down his hair, and tightened his tie into place. Even the grubby Sergeant tightened his sagging belt under his paunch and buttoned the collar of his tunic for the first time, seeking to restrain rolls of fat that bulged out the top. Guzman stood with hands on his hips, making a great show out of looking them all up and down, inspecting the party, soldiers and prisoners alike, each one in minute detail, until he pronounced himself satisfied. He nodded to his grinning Sergeant, and the line was formed up as for a parade.

The Major placed himself in front, holding the light chain over his right shoulder in a gloved hand.

The three prisoners were forced to follow: Meghan, Kip, and Mallory. Sergeant Gutterez was assigned a post bringing up the rear, reflecting for the first time how fortunate it was to have an officer who wanted to be always in front, while he, Emilio Gutterez, could have the truly prized position of following the lush, swaying buttocks of the naked gringa
, who the Major assured him, was a Yankee
Federale
. How delightful was the seductive churning of those tight-bottomed cheeks
!

Flanking them, the peasant soldiers marched in escort, rifles resting on their shoulders, and eyes that were supposed to be locked to the front, shifting to the side to enjoy the sight of the parade of three foreign women who were made to march into the camp without any clothes on.

One step after the other in his ludicrous parade, brought home to each girl, as she trudged along in silence, the true horror of words — “White Slaver”. Except for their hiking shoes and socks, they were kept totally naked, their necks banded with high leather collars. They had been reduced to tethered slaves, forced to follow the strutting Toy Soldier, flanked by his leering peons, and led along a gravel trail to the isolated mountain fortress of a local warlord called by everyone “El Commandante”. Each step brought them further from the outside world, and even the remotest hope of rescue.