A different kind of mission - Chapter 11

The Mission - Part 1

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True to Marilyn’s revelation to Sandy, the team departed two days later. They traveled in their trios by separate airlines and routes but arrived in the country nearest El Supremos after two more days. The girls wandered around as tourists for a while, gradually approaching the city nearest the border to El Supremo’s poor nation. This was the city from which most of the abductions had occurred. The teams made a habit of their actions once they reached their target city, each trio usually going to the same restaurant at the same time for supper and by the same route. It was only a matter of time before they were kidnapped, and it turned out to be not very much time.

Marilyn’s soft voice whispered a warning to Carol and Sandy as they walked to their hotel one dark evening, "Here they come. Remember, nothing fancy. We can struggle, but don’t really win."

She had seen shadows converging in the predatory tactic that had worked with such terrible effect on Sandy. The other two saw the same flickers in the dim light and tried to maintain the light-hearted attitude they had been demonstrating. They might not have been completely successful, but the attackers continued their advance so their acting skills were sufficient to meet the need. El Supremo’s minions left nothing to chance, with two men assigned to each of the three women. Their approach showed the efficiency of long practice. One man grabbed a woman’s arms, then, as she opened her mouth to scream, another popped a ball gag into place and it was quickly cinched tight. Once silenced, they proceeded to add additional bonds at their leisure. In seconds it was all over. Each girl was shackled with fur-lined leather cuffs at her wrists. A wide strap pulled her elbows cruelly together. Only the flexibility they had worked so hard to obtain allowed their elbows to touch without tearing shoulder ligaments. Other straps were drawn about their ankles and just above their knees, leaving them completely unable to move, barely able to breathe, yet padded from any damage to sensitive feminine skin. The final indignity was a soft but very effective blindfold, leaving them isolated in their helplessness. Or so the captors thought, this team would never be completely helpless. When the flurry died down the team could hear one of the soldiers muttering curses.

"Shut up," another voice commanded.

"This red-headed bitch bit my fingers, and tried to unman me with those boots she’s wearing," the muttering voice complained.

Another voice with laughter in its tone replied, "Then keep your fingers out of the mouth that bites, you fool, and you never were enough of a man to miss anything important."

"I’ll put something important in the mouth without teeth all right if this bitch gives me any more trouble."

The bound women could sense a sudden stillness in their captors, except for the two that we're joking with. The command voice spoke again, this time fierce with menace, "Listen you fool. Don’t even talk about that. You’re new, but I was here the last time someone was caught violating one of Maximum Leader’s captives. Sometimes he waits at the harem when the girls are delivered. This time, he sensed something and had the captives examined, cunt, ass, and stomach. He found traces of man-seed in one of the women, it might even have been her boyfriend’s from before she was taken. Maximum Leader didn’t care. He had the entire capture team castrated and blinded, then had their hands cut off. Then he let them loose in the harem. I understand they took a long, long time to die under the tender care of the harem girls. You treat these women like fragile dolls or I’ll kill you myself."

Well, Sandy thought, that’s at least a little assurance we won’t be harmed right away, although the painful pull at her elbows and the cramps that had already started in her distended jaw were constant reminders that no harm did not equate to comfort. They next heard a crackle as though from a radio. Static prevented them from really making out the other end of the conversation, especially in a foreign tongue, but the affirmative tones of the leader from their end indicated success. In a few minutes a vehicle pulled up and the women were piled into the back. Once again, no harm was shown not to be the same as no pain as they were unceremoniously dumped in random positions on top of the soft bodies that were already inside. Squirming to try and find a less-uncomfortable position with their knees and elbows welded together wasn’t too successful, but it was enough to confirm that the other trio had also been kidnapped. Bound, gagged, and blindfolded, they began their journey into El Supremo’s country, or as he had his own men call him, Maximum Leader.

Even in their sensory isolation, it was obvious when they crossed the border. The roads got worse. It was just as obvious when they got near the palace that Maximum Leader maintained. The roads got better. Rank has its privileges. The ride took hours, or days, or some indeterminate time that they couldn’t judge in their darkness. But eventually, the vehicle stopped and the six members of the team were being slung over masculine shoulders and carried to a place where they were set carefully on their feet. They had to struggle to maintain their balance in their bondage, teetering on still-towering heels without the opportunity to move even their toes to readjust their equilibrium.

A woman’s voice started speaking to them, in moderately-accented but perfectly-understandable English, though devoid of emotion in a monotonous litany that bespoke excess repetitions. "Welcome to the service of Maximum Leader. You have been chosen by your beauty for the privilege of easing the terrible hardships imposed on our Maximum Leader by his unending toils for his people. Our rules are simple. First, keep yourselves beautiful. It reflects poorly on me if Maximum Leader finds his servants inadequately attractive. You will find cosmetics, clothes, exercise facilities, and whatever else you need. Each of you already knows that beauty is as much an internal as an external condition. If you mope or sulk or act unattractively, you will be unattractive. This is not permitted."

"The second rule is that you must keep yourself inviolate except with our Maximum Leader, and with him, you release yourself completely for his pleasure. Only when allowed by the Maximum Leader will you enjoy your bodies. When he requests relief from his terrible strain, you will be provided to him and you will please him. Utterly. Any hesitation to comply with any need he expresses is not permitted."

"Third, you will destroy any man you see who is not in the company of Maximum Leader. You will find adequate weapons in the area to assist you, but if necessary you will use teeth and nails and your own bodies to attack. Hesitation or concern for your own persons is not permitted."

"There are other rules for special services that will be explained as they apply."

"Penalties for breaking these rules are immediate, harsh, and usually fatal. Penalties for even attempting to leave the service of Maximum Leader are as harsh and as protracted before being fatal as we can devise, and we have had long practice. As of this moment, your old lives are over. Welcome to your new lives."

Hands removed the blindfolds from the new harem slaves. Their eyes went to the source of the message they had just received to find a woman that was not nearly as boring as her voice indicated. Her age was indeterminate, clearly older than the team, but whether 40 or 90 was impossible to tell. She was petite in a way that invoked the image of a hard kernel of diamond, all that was left when any softness had been chipped away. There was also an arrogance about her, one that said she had such absolute power over others that her whim was equivalent to a god’s. It glittered in her black eyes, an unashamed arrogance that said her eyes were a true window to her black heart. Small wonder that most new girls would be intimidated, but the closeness of the team resulted in a common assessment of her that was different from most girls. Though they didn’t know of their community of thought at the time, as each girl saw their harem mistress the thought ran through their minds of the equally-arrogant first comments of the eventually-pathetic instructor they had known as El Supremo. It firmed their resolve far beyond anything this woman hoped to accomplish in diminishing their self-respect.

Once the new captives were able to see, the woman continued, "I am Skuda. Do each of you understand these rules and agree to abide by them? I remind you that disobedience is not permitted, in any event, but you will be granted greater freedom if you promise to do your best to obey."

She looked first to Marilyn, even with the flawless perfection of her makeup she was clearly a little older than the near-teen team members and probably the de facto leader of the captives. Marilyn nodded abruptly. At that point, a harem girl that had been standing to the side came forward and began to remove her leg bindings and the cruel strap around her elbows. The harem mistress looked at the others in approximate age order and received a nod from each, finishing with Sandy. Each was released enough to walk and to avoid the extreme discomfort of the elbow binding, but none were freed entirely from their bonds.

"You will wear your gags until tomorrow morning, also your wrists will remain bound. This is to allow you time to contemplate your new situation and to let you know the tiniest aspect of the discomfort that will be yours for any disobedience. At dawn, any girl in the harem is allowed to release you. Dismissed."

With that, the harem mistress and all the hangers-on who had been in the room simply left. The team stood for a moment, jaws aching, arms trying to flex with the small additional freedom granted. Then, with a shrug, Marilyn turned to follow the departing women. It was already past midnight, surely. Dawn was only a few hours away. The new residents wandered around through the rest of the night, apparently aimless. No one would expect them to try and relax on their first night, especially with the ever-increasing agony in their jaws and with their awkward arms. In fact, rather than helplessly wallowing in their suffering, the team was reconnoitering the palace just as they had originally planned, though with a little less ease. Even Carol, constrained by the six-inch heels on her boots to an infinite series of tiny strides, covered all of her objectives. After additional eons, a dim glow appeared in the sky, and finally a sliver of sun. Each girl found an unbound woman to remove her final restraints and gratefully stretched before finding an equally necessary set of facilities. They were able to hide their uniqueness easily enough before taking advantage of the scattered cosmetics to repair the ravages of their capture. Selecting appropriate nightgowns from the arrays of clothing, they found each other again, then retired to a convenient bedroom to catch up on some sleep.

The harem mistress seemed to have forgotten them when they got up that evening. It was important to keep a low profile so they worked out, dressed beautifully, and ate quietly, all to send signals of acceptance and lack of threat. However, it was reasonable for the newest slaves to find comfort in each other’s company so their many whispered conferences were actually detailed planning sessions. All was as they expected. The only unknown was the exact schedule for those in the biowar lab to retire on any given night. It wouldn’t do to break into the lab and find technicians everywhere. They spent a few days trying to get a lead on what went on behind the door they knew led to the lab.

Finally, Marilyn gathered the team together and said, "It’s tonight. The techs will vacate the key lab and should be out of the hallways by 11:00. There’s a big VIP shindig tomorrow and everything is supposed to be neat and tidy. We’ll meet at the entrance at 11:30. Bring only silent weapons. Any questions?"

"How did you find that out?" Vanna asked.

"Sorry, you don’t need to know," replied Marilyn.

There was a hurt look in Vanna’s eyes, mirrored in the other four enlisted members of the team. After all, they had been through together, keeping secrets seemed wrong. But, as always, Marilyn was doing what was best. Tonight was a time for military precision, military discipline. Acting out their strange roles had often required informality and camaraderie that was normally forbidden between enlisted and officers. Tonight, they were back in the Army.

It shouldn’t have been surprised to find out that all the available clothes available were in vibrant colors, all the shoes were delicate and uncomfortable, all the skirts too tight for easy fighting. The girls chose the best options that they could find, short skirts with high slits in the darkest colors to be found, and went barefoot. They met at the antechamber to the biowar lab on schedule to see the first of the chain girls that guarded the entrance. She slumped in her bonds, a tight blindfold concealing her eyes, a tight mitten surrounding her fingers and locked to a chain so short she had no choice but the kneel, or perhaps lie on the floor. As expected, there was a wire leading from her mitten to the door.

Constance took up her position at the external door to the antechamber. Since she couldn’t pass the gate she would safeguard their position at this point. The others looked at each other, then Marilyn squared her shoulders and stepped toward the chain girl. Without a word, since though she could lower her voice her accent might be revealing, she gently lifted the blind head of the chain girl and stepped before her. Raising her skirt (invisible to the chain-girl) she placed her incongruous tool between the bound captive’s lips. Like an automaton, the girl began sucking and stroking Marilyn's erection. In moments, she was rewarded, if that’s the right term, with Marilyn’s seed. Almost as a reflex, her hands clenched and the airlock door into the inner sanctum opened. Marilyn darted through the opening, not sure how long the opportunity would last. It turned out not to be a problem as long as she moved steadily, since the weight of her feet on the floor of the airlock triggered the door to close behind her. Once she was in place the inner door opened and Marilyn looked out on the first corridor in the biowar lab. She had decided that they would gather in this area to make sure that everyone made it through before moving on, so it was a tense few moments until the next members of her team made their own way through the airlock, each paying a unique deposit.

"All right," Marilyn said as Sandy finally passed through. "We’re in. Quickly now, and quiet."

They padded off down the corridor. None carried guns since there were no silenced weapons in the harem, but all had an edged weapon of lethal capability. Vanna had demonstrated a talent for knife-throwing almost as spectacular as Sandy’s talent for cosmetics and looked like an incredibly beautiful new species of a porcupine with all the sharp edges protruding from her clothes. The first person they saw was another blindfolded chain girl, posted outside the entrance to the techs’ rest quarters, according to a sign on the wall. Her mouth looked bruised, a sign of how many men had passed so quickly and so brutally through her portal. Still, it looked like their information was correct and that the techs had indeed retired for the night. The graceful assault team passed noiselessly by the slumping girl, close enough to realize she was sobbing quietly to herself in her blind isolation, but helpless to relieve her from her sentence.

Unknown to the team, Constance was no longer at her station. As soon as the Sandy had passed through the first airlock, Constance had departed for the main part of the harem. She passed quickly through the room after room until she finally got to a room that none of the team had entered, the room where survivors of punishment were "stored" until they either lived or died. Inside, she moved to a dark-haired girl that moaned fitfully in her sleep.