The People Traders (10 page)

Assam grinned. "You're a clever and resourceful girl, Karen, perhaps I underestimated you?"

He stood and moved round the table. Karen cowered back, expecting him to strike her, but he didn't. Instead Garrett came up behind and pulled her head back with her hair. She screamed, but Assam slapped her face hard.

"Shut up, close your eyes and open your mouth," he demanded.

Relieved he wasn't going to strap her, Karen did as he asked. There was the rustle of a bag and a few seconds later she felt a soft round sweet thrust into her mouth.

"Chew it, Karen, chew it and swallow it,” Assam whispered into her ear.

She chewed the revolting item which seemed to be coated with some sort of sugar, then swallowed it quickly, no longer wanting to keep it in her mouth. However, as soon as she'd done that, Assam pushed another in. This time the sweet tasted bitter and she very nearly threw up before swallowing it, yet again, with difficulty.

"How do you like the taste of those, kid? They've been specially prepared for you, by your friend Screwer. But you've not quite finished, I've just one more thing I want you to taste," he laughed, thrusting something long, hard and sticky into her mouth. "Why don't you give it a good suck, perhaps you can tell me what it is," he demanded.

Assam was still holding the end, so she sucked a little and then licked around with her tongue as he'd told her. The taste of the burnt, hard covering, mixed with a bitter taste, was confusing; she was convinced it must be drugs or poison?

"Still confused, Karen? Then give it a good bite, chew it, then if you don't know, I'll tell you."

She opened her eyes; Assam was inches from her, a sickly grin spread over his face.

"Bite, bite hard and chew it or you'll feel my strap," he shouted.

She bit into it and an oozy, bitter tasting liquid filled her mouth, making her choke. Assam pulled the rest from her mouth and clasped his hand over so she couldn't spit it out, annoyed at her delay. "Chew it, I said chew it, or God help me, I'll beat the fucking shit out of you," he screamed at her.

By now Karen, convinced it was poisoned, began tugging at his hand, trying to pull it away from her mouth to spit it out, but Garrett grabbed both her arms, wrenching them tight behind the chair she sat on.

"Swallow it, swallow it," Assam hissed in her face.

Finally she did before he again forced open her mouth, pushing the rest of the obnoxious thing into it. Then, pulling her head back with her hair, he clasped his hand over her mouth again so she couldn't spit it out. Karen, her eyes wide with terror, felt helpless, waiting for the pains or whatever would happen before she died.

"Was it good, that? Think I've poisoned you? Waiting to die, Karen, wondering how it'd feel?" Assam mocked. "Sorry to disappoint you but it's not poison, it's something more, should we say, personal. You see, Barry called England for you, I didn't tell you that, did I? They know you're on this ship. That's good news, don't you think? Unfortunately for you, the bad news is you're leaving tomorrow, so you won't be here. A little earlier than planned, I agree, but no matter. A boat will pick you up before we dock. So the ship will be clean as a whistle. Your Barry won't be on board, of course. You see, we had a little accident today. God knows what happened as he just seemed to want to jump over the side; it may have been the pain, who knows? It was tragic, we could do nothing."

He stopped for a moment, allowing it to sink in, at the same time not releasing her mouth. A black sticky liquid was beginning to dribble between his hands. Assam ignored it and carried on his little story. "Mind you, I'd got myself a problem; just how were you going to keep your promise to him for calling England? I'd considered taking his place, or perhaps giving you to the crew, but that wasn't fair. After all, it was a contract between you and Barry. Screwer came to my rescue; you see, I didn't know Barry had this little fantasy that you'd give him a blow job. You know the sort of thing, you'd probably done it many times with Grant when you were at that time of the month. Is that what he'd have you do then, eh?"

She was staring up at him, unable to move or speak, the obnoxious substance still dribbling out between his hands and down her throat. Terror was still in her eyes and she still believed, no matter what he'd said, that she was about to die.

"So did you? Did you give him a blow job?" Assam screamed at her.

She closed her eyes and nodded. How Grant had got her to do it she couldn't remember or even wanted to, but he had and she felt desperately ashamed.

Assam grinned, moving his mouth close to her ear. "I knew you had, Karen, Grant really had you dancing on the end of strings, didn't he? But I'm diversifying; we were talking about Barry and how to keep your promise to him. It was a problem really, so I decided at least to keep one of his fantasies for you to perform, so to speak. Mind you, you'd probably have been very disappointed; he'd only a tiny one, not more than four inches erect, I'm told. Not enough for a girl with your experience." Then he shrugged indifferently. "Anyway a promise is a promise and while Barry is no longer of this world to ask it of you, I decided to let you suck it anyway."

Her eyes had widened as the realisation of what was in her mouth suddenly sunk in. She began to retch at the thought, struggling to escape and spit the obnoxious thing out, but Assam and Garrett gripped her hard.

"Yes, kid, it's Barry's fantasy. His balls you've eaten, his dick you licked and sucked before you bit into it, chewed then swallowed, and the rest's in your mouth. Screwer's very good with the knife, you should know that. And after a little light grilling, with its special sugar coating, it was ready for you. Poor Barry didn't know what hit him. Stripped on the deck, then held down, Screwer had it off in seconds. Pushed in his face before he'd even known we'd taken it. I'm surprised you didn't hear the screams, but believe me, the sharks soon shut him up. What do you think now, is the debt repaid?"

She could only stare at him. The revulsion of what he'd done to Barry, and now to her, made her stomach churn. He suddenly let go and allowed her to spit what was left of the penis out onto the floor. Karen was coughing and desperately wanted to be sick, staring at the bloody mess on the floor that they'd forced her to eat.

"Go into the bathroom and wash your face. Be sick if you want, then I want you back in here," he shouted.

Karen didn't need any urging and stood quickly to go.

Assam shouted at her again. "And take that thing with you; flush it down the toilet unless you want to keep it, perhaps to suck on it again later?" he barked.

She scooped the remains from the floor and ran and seconds later her head was over the toilet. She had never been so sick; retching hard, trying to be even sicker to get the things out of her stomach, the taste in her mouth acid and bitter. Tears streaming down her face at the very thought of what Assam had done.

Eventually, after five or six minutes she returned, very subdued, and sat down again. Resigned to a strapping, she glared at him. "You sick bastard, strap me all you want but Barry didn't deserve to die. Then to stick that thing down my throat, how low can you sink?"

Assam thrust a drink in front of her. "Drink, it will kill the taste."

She took it without a word, swilling the liquid around in her mouth, but it didn't, the bitter taste still lingered.

"I'll allow that outburst, Karen, just this once," Assam began, "but always remember, it was you who signed his death warrant when you asked him for help. You knew that I warned you days ago and yet only twenty minutes ago in here you were saying how clever you were to get him to do it. So don't come with your ‘holier than thou' shit. But the problem I now have is, what's your punishment?"

Karen shrugged. "Strap me, kill me, I no longer care!"

Assam leaned back as if in thought. "I suppose not. You're probably feeling pretty bad at the moment, aren't you? Anyway you've a choice. It's Screwer's birthday tonight; he's fifty. I want you to dance for him at his party like you did with Barry. Refuse, then I give you to the crew, followed by at least ten strokes of the strap. I prefer the latter because you're shit and use people no matter what the risk to them. But I'm a businessman and badly marked girls have lower value, although someone would still buy you."

She remained silent. She despised this man in front of her; given the chance, she would kill him.

"I'm waiting; dance for Screwer, or I give you to the crew, followed by the strap with a long swim to shore, it's very simple."

Karen shrugged. "I'll dance; I'm not a fool, you know."

Assam grinned. "I know you're not and believe me I won't forget you. I'm only sorry Frank Whittle had already made arrangements. I'd have found a far more fitting future for a girl like you."

Garrett touched her arm and she stood, ready to go. Assam pulled a small box from his drawer, placing it on the desk in front of him. "It's a birthday party, Karen, so you should give him a gift after your dance. Tell him it's a gift from you and Assam said he is to use it this time and not leave it on the shelf."

She took the box, but Garrett snatched it off her as they left the cabin. "I'll give it you when you've danced. Go and get a shower, wash your hair and tie it back. Smile, don't scowl at him, remember it's his birthday," Garrett said, and then walked away.

Garrett wasn't there when she came out of the shower but with nowhere to escape to, she returned to the hold and dried her hair. In some ways she didn't mind the dance, it'd worked for Barry and five or ten minutes playing up to a man of fifty was far better than Assam's belt.

***

Garrett came at nine and he led her back to the dining area. She could hear music and laughing and began to pull back as they approached. Garrett urged her on into the room. Eight or nine of the crew were sat about drinking. There was a chair in the middle of the small room and Screwer was being urged to sit in it.

"Screwer, Assam's arranged a present for your fiftieth. Karen's agreed to perform a lap dance for you, so let's have some sexy music playing on the stereo," Garrett shouted.

As the music started, Karen began her dance. This time it was slow, with each item of clothing she removed timed to match the music. At times she squirmed over him, kissing him gently, and eventually, like with Barry, she slipped the shorts to the floor. The men in the room were chanting “knickers off, knickers off”, so before sitting astride him, she turned away, allowing her knickers to fall slowly down her legs to the floor and wiggled her bare bottom at him. Then she turned and sat astride his closed legs, simulating intercourse. As the music stopped, all the crew who'd been urging her on, shouted and hooted, with lots of clapping. Karen felt on a high; she'd done it, and now it was over.

Garrett handed her the present.

Kissing Screwer on the cheek, Karen pushed it into his hands. "It's a gift from me for your birthday, Assam said you were to use it immediately and not let it hang about, or something like that," she said.

He started unwrapping the outer paper, only to find another layer underneath. He did it again and again, becoming more frustrated, thinking he was being made a fool of, then suddenly from the final tiny box he drew out two black condoms.

"Why, Karen, I never thought you cared so much for me? It must be all those bacon butties I've given you? But Assam couldn't have given me a better present," Screwer shouted, at the same time beginning to unbuckle his belt. "I think you're right, girl, I should use one immediately and the other certainly won't be hanging around, I promise you."

Karen's eyes widened in alarm, the words of Assam ringing in her ears as she realised that she'd offered herself to Screwer. She tried to move away and leave the room but Screwer had other ideas.

"The table, bring the table. Don't let the bitch leave," he shouted.

While it was fetched, four of them made a grab for Karen, lifting her high in the air, parading her round the room before laying her flat on the hastily moved table, her legs dangling down one side.

"Warm her up for me while I get this bloody thing on," Screwer shouted.

She lay there with her eyes closed tightly as someone started to kiss and fondle her breasts. Another was rubbing her gently between the legs, exciting her sex organ and dampening her with her own juices.

"She's ready, Screwer, she's ready," everyone was chanting.

"At last," Screwer laughed. "Get ready for the shag of your life, kid, and find out why they call me Screwer," he boasted.

Moments later she could feel Screwer slowly sinking deep inside her, his hands gripping her hips as he began to work back and forth. Try as she might to block this abuse of her body out of her mind, and even telling herself that this was rape, she couldn't. The effort of trying to add sexual overtones in her dancing had raised the adrenalin level in her body so high, that now her body was reacting to this man.

At the same time, she could hear him offering the other condom around for whatever money he could get and many men were bidding for it. Suddenly, the deal done, Screwer was beginning to climax, his body slamming into hers, with the men in the room egging him on. Then he was finished, withdrawing slowly, her body still shaking under the onslaught, but for Karen it wasn't over.

"Turn her over, turn her over," someone was shouting. "I want her turned over."