Girls' Nightmare Out Pt. 01

The women moaned and groaned and pushed back, urging the men taking them on—it did not have to be Tom giving the orders. They announced that they were cumming, and told the men riding them to 'fill them up,' and when the first pair had finished, cumming buried deep in their cunts, they begged for more, seemingly welcoming the in-flight gang bang that ensued. When every man had enjoyed each of the women once, Tom recorded a nice bit where they lay in the aisle, eating each other clean.

The flight was nearing its destination by then, and as the plane began the descent into Vegas, it was the tattoo artist's turn. The man had demanded Tom pay for the portable equipment when Tom had approached him with his 'business proposal,' but it had been well worth it. The artist from Tom's last city had wanted a share of the action. Tom was glad that the guy thought with his dick; besides the equipment, his only demand had been that he get a 'free ride' on the maiden voyage flights, as well. Tom had already assumed that would be the case. And the guy also provided Tom advance notice if—when—the women Tom was 'recruiting' were searching for clues, like Kathy and Melissa had done. Some past ink slingers had done truly awful work, but the artist was exactly that. His work was truly first class.

Tom prepped each woman off camera, after which they sauntered naked to the tiny 'studio' that was set up at the back of the plane, and casually asked if the artist would trade them a tattoo for a pussy fuck. The guy feigned consideration before he shrugged, saying, "Sure, what do you want?" the women giggled—as Tom had told them to do—and said, "This."

Kathy went first, offering the page Tom had provided. It was a bastardized version of the mouse, Jerry, from Tom and Jerry, turned part way, leering over his shoulder suggestively while holding an oversized erect cock with one paw. All of Tom's 'girls' had that tattoo somewhere—he let the women choose, as addled as they were when they were being marked. Most often, his soon to be whores just settled back in the chair, ready for the agreed upon 'trade,' and letting the tat be placed down by their pubes. The occasional, especially willful woman chose an ankle or back or breast.

Both of his newest recruits obediently reclined in the provided seat when it was their turn, spreading their legs and letting the artist choose where to ink them before he balled them.

Tom always enjoyed the fact that the camera showed him carefully donning latex gloves to prevent infection while doing the skin work, after which he stripped the gloves off with a flourish, dropped trou, and would then plunge his naked cock into the unprotected pussy. The lack of resistance and the obvious intimacy of taking him bareback added to the video impact of what sluts supposedly 'proper' women were.

The second to get her ink always got a longer screwing, and in the position it had been obvious that Melissa had climaxed at least twice while taking the tattoo artist's cock. His coup de grace, another little bit Tom appreciated, was to pull out as he finished, wiping his leaking cockhead over the new ink if he had done their pubes. The ink slinger had just finished wiping his jism off of... or into the petite blonde's new artwork with an antiseptic pad when the wheels hit the tarmac, signaling their landing. The other men were dressed, some having watched the show the women put on, while others were talking or watching videos on their lap tops or smart phones. Everyone was aware that they would enjoy a similar party on the ride home. In the intervening day they were free to enjoy themselves and the varied spectacles offered in the City that Never Sleeps.

Tom's one rule—to protect his investment—was that the men helping him break his new whores in not fool around on the side; the last thing he needed was to get any of his women infected with some STD. That had been difficult at first, since there were not many women, but with almost 45 women working for him directly, and another seven or eight dozen at his previous outlets, the men had no end of available pussy.

He told the women to get dressed, noticing that neither wore any panties, and aware that it was likely because of the labia rings, with which he had begun their indoctrination. They obediently downed another glass of spiked champagne before he led them down the stairs to a waiting limo, which whisked them into the city, and a prepared suite.

Once there, he again had them strip, then fucked each of them in the pussy and ass, making sure to leave a load in each of them—and recording it—before collecting their things. He gave each another drink, more heavily spiked, which put them out completely, then spent some time copying some quick edits of the video, burning it onto a DVD with his laptop. He left the rough copy and a note on the television cabinet. He guessed they would call later in the morning... he hoped so, since they had a full day ahead of them.

Chapter III

Melissa rolled to her side, groaning as dim awareness surfaced. The room was completely dark. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot on the hard mattress beneath her. Something was wrong, though she was not sure exactly what. She blinked, looked at the red numbers of the alarm clock: 5AM.

Her husband was pressed against her right side. That was strange-he usually lay to her left. She was trying to figure why she was seeing red and not blue clock numbers, when she put a questioning hand against Jeff's back, and found none of the hair she expected.

That quickly, Melissa was completely awake. She sat up, pushing the covers down. Even in the dark, it was obvious it was not her bedroom. Panic clutched at her throat. She looked beside her, almost against her will, and relaxed fractionally when she realized it was Kathy snoring quietly beside her. Her friend was naked from the waist up, and Melissa realized with no small embarrassment she was totally naked.

A fragment of memory from the last time she had awoken so disoriented made her reach to her crotch and right breast, fearful of what she would find; no new rings were in evidence. Pushing at Kathy's shoulder, she reached blindly for the bed stand lamp and turned it on. She reached belatedly for the covers to hide herself, but the room was empty.

Kathy groaned, rolling to her back, still unaware of anything as Melissa ran to the windows and looked out, trying to ignore the now familiar fullness between her legs. It was not the squalor of a 'cheater's motel' she already knew, based on the quality of the furnishings. A brightly lit city stretched out far below her—not her home town. Her breath caught, as she realized where she was. She saw the flickering neon names lighting 'the Strip' and knew, but could not imagine how they had gotten to Vegas.

"Melissa?" Kathy was awake and looking at her friend, starting to realize something was very wrong. She sat up as Melissa turned back, gasping as she looked back at her friend's naked body. "What's... Oh, God," Kathy groaned, staring at Melissa in equal shock, then down at her own naked body.

Melissa eyed her own bare torso, a sob escaping her throat as she saw the lewd teddy bear... no, a mouse marring her pubes. She wiped at it, wishing it were painted on, but knowing better.

"Oh, God," Melissa looked frantically at her friend, simultaneously desperate for and terrified about the answers to her question, "What's happened to us?"

"I don't know," Kathy answered, an audible quake in her voice. She stood, glancing about, as she stepped to the closet, pulling on a robe. She threw the second to Melissa, who was searching the drawers.

"Where are our clothes?" Melissa's voice was a quiet wail. The women searched the suite, finding no clothes, and worse, none of their other belongings. Kathy was the first to notice the videotape. Melissa picked up the phone, dialing the front desk.

"Hello," she paused, "I... uhm, whose room is this?" She flinched hearing her own question, and the clerk's snotty bark of a laugh, asking if she frequently found herself in strange hotel suites. When she did not answer he told her that he had no idea to whom the room had been checked. "You mean you won't tell me," Melissa seethed, "This is unbelieveable." "Hotel policy," the man countered, "It's not my problem you don't know who you slept with," he said harshly before the connection went dead. "I can't believe it-" Melissa stopped, seeing Kathy gesturing at the television.

Her friend picked up the thin silver disc, and after a moment's hesitation, she put it into the platter of the DVD player sitting beneath the wide LED screen. Melissa saw that Kathy's hands were shaking. She reached for the remote, turning the television on as the disc began to play automatically. The women found themselves watching no fewer than seven men, clustered in what Kathy realized after a moment was the cabin of a small jet. The camera passed from the men's chests to show both women, fully clothed. The screen went dark, and then a moment later it was showing them stripping... and then they were showing themselves off in front of the camera and the strangers.

Kathy gasped when the tape jumped again, showing her masturbating feverishly, the sounds of her moans audible through the speaker. She did not realize that she did not yet have the tattoo. Melissa pointed that out, pointing silently and then explaining softly as the frame shifted to show her matching performance on the opposite side of the aisle before panning back, including both of them.

The frame shifted again, and the women heard themselves asking to join the mile high club, after which there began a seemingly unending series of images as one man after another fucked their apparently willing bodies. Melissa rocked silently as she watched the first man take her; a heavy set black with a thick, strangely bent penis. After a brief but intense coupling he stiffened, thrusting into her fully and saying, 'Ahhh, take my load, slut. Tell me how much you like it,' after which her own voice answered, 'I like it. Give it to me.'

Melissa stood stiffly and scrambled into the shower. Kathy joined her a moment later. The women were relieved that the showerhead was detachable, and douched as best as they could, paying no attention to the fact that they were doing such intimate activities together. Long after the hot water had run out, they exited the oversized stall, and after drying off sat together on the couch in the main room in front of the silent TV.

"We have to know," Melissa said quietly after a time. It scared her how quiet Kathy was. Her friend nodded stiffly, and pointed the remote at the player. As they watched the seemingly endless tape, each had to stop watching it repeatedly. At first Kathy would stop the playback, but by the end they were instead fast forwarding through the intolerable sections rather than breaking down in tears. Again, neither had any memory of what had happened, but the images were more than plain.

"Jeff would leave me," Melissa took a halting breath, "What happened to us? Why are we here?" Kathy shook her head helplessly.

"I wish I knew. All I remember is that waiter with the drinks." Melissa nodded.

"He had the special of the night. Blue something."

"That's right," Kathy paused. "Why do I think he wasn't a waiter?" Both women sat in misery, eyes glued to the screen. The same disgusting man who had been the first to fuck Melissa on the video was finishing in Kathy, and the brunette nodded at the screen, glancing at her friend, "Fred's sort of... prejudiced. One look at this and he'd probably kill me."

"What do we do?" Melissa looked to her friend, who simply shrugged. "I can't just call home: 'Hey honey, I was kidnapped and gang raped and I don't remember any of it, but now I'm naked in a hotel suite in Las Vegas with no clothes or money. Oh, and you know those piercings? You won't believe the souvenir I have now.' He'd have his lawyer in the kitchen and a restraining order keeping me from the kids before he thought about wiring money for a ticket home." Kathy nodded; her husband's reaction could only be worse. The screen had gone blank, and the women sat staring at it for a moment.

"What should we do with it?" Melissa murmured.

"Burn it. Melt it. Break it into a million little pieces." Kathy paused and sighed, "But there's a copy, of course. We're well and truly screwed," Kathy brooded for a moment, standing abruptly and walking to the window, "It's like this is a gilded cage, you know? I would've given anything to be in a place like this with Fred, but this... this is horrible." Melissa nodded her agreement, starting when the picture cleared suddenly and a voice boomed over the TV speaker.

"Hello, my sluts!" it said. The screen came back on, the cameraman speaking. The scene was a close up of the women, obviously asleep on the bed where they had awakened, Melissa's legs were spread and a steady trickle of cum was running down her inner thigh. Kathy was on her stomach, and as the camera panned down, the photographer's cock was pictured, thrust fully into the brunette's ass. As they watched, he pulled out an impressive length before slipping free of her pucker, which remained obscenely open, glistening in the camera's light where his jism coated her sphincter.

"Now you know why you're sore there," the voice continued, his smile something they could hear as the camera panned back to Melissa, zooming on her jism smeared thigh, "And this is mine. You loved it," he added. "You've probably guessed, you've been quite naughty girls in the last... is it only six hours? I'd guess you've had more men than either of you ever sampled before you were married."

He paused for effect. Melissa shivered—Jeff had been her only until... She glanced at Kathy, who nodded and held up 3 fingers. The voice continued.

"I bet you're wondering how you got here? I'd tell you, but then you'd be tempted to use this tape in a way I don't want it used, so when you're ready to talk, just dial 1578 and ask for Tom-that's why little Jerry is there by your nice little pussies, so you'll remember who I am. I'll stop by when you call. And I wouldn't try to leave if I were you; there are better copies of the tape, as well as some other pictures..." the camera panned to the bed beside Melissa's naked flesh and several photo stock images eight and a half by eleven glossy images of each woman sucking and fucking the same gigantic erection, sans condom, in Melissa's car, "So if you think you can get home without money and wearing hotel issue robes, you'll still have some explaining to do. I especially like what you were saying on the video, though; that can't be faked, you know?"

The screen went to static, and Kathy walked back over, turning the DVD player off with a vicious jab.

"That arrogant fuck! Who does he think he is, thinks he can do this to us." The tirade died as she realized how badly they were trapped. Melissa was sobbing on the couch, and after another moment, Kathy went to comfort her friend. When Melissa had regained some control, Kathy stood and moved to the telephone, paging through the binder lying beside the phone. When she picked up, Melissa gasped.

"What are you?" but Kathy held up a finger, then calmly asked for soft drinks, bottled water, Caesar salads, and two of the tremendously expensive entrees. She hung up and smiled.

"The least we can do is enjoy the amenities before we see what the prick wants." Melissa could not hide her smile, though she wondered if they would pay in the end for that act of defiance.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" she asked her friend. Kathy nodded, then shrugged.

"Who knows... maybe he wants industrial secrets from our husbands or something." both women smiled in disbelief. Kathy patted Melissa's bare knee, "Let's just wait and see what he says."

Chapter IV

Dwayne had expected the call to be later, and wondered how or why the women had gotten up when they had. He had placed a 6AM wake-up call, and the ringing of his own phone at just that time had confused him for a moment. Instead, an angry but subdued female voice had said, 'We're ready,' and had hung up. Nothing more.

He got up, checked that he had left nothing to identify himself in the room, then left, turning and walking away from the elevators toward the far suite, where his new 'girls' had been installed. One of the perks of his job was comp time at several of the casinos, which aided in his 'recruiting efforts.' Vegas might be advertising itself as a family vacation spot, and might openly oppose 'working girls' on the casino floor and in their suites, but they still wanted to claim to service every vice; it was not coincidence Capone and his cronies had built the city.

Dwayne made himself valuable to members of the mafia, the yakuza, the Russians, Czechs, Poles, Columbians, and increasingly, Arabs. The latter, while not necessarily crime families, held women in different regard than the people of Europe, North America, and even much of Asia. And like the casino owners, he had yet to meet a top echelon businessman who was not a ruthless son of a bitch. Most of them were more than ready to sully another man's wife for a little personal enjoyment.

He did not bother knocking, but let himself in with the keycard, stepping into the room as if he owned it, which was the case. The women were sitting on the couch, talking quietly to each other. Dwayne often found his women thought they were being constantly watched, which would have been impossible in a suite occasionally used by Royalty, but the illusion was a handy one. He stopped, selecting a bottle of Jack Daniels from the servi-bar before sitting opposite them. He casually threw a boot up onto his knee and took a hit of the Jack, waiting for the women to speak.

"What are we doing here?" the brunette flipped her hair angrily, though the effect was comical considering she was sitting there in a hotel robe.

"You're my guests, of course." He smiled, "Well, that's not exactly true. Let's say you're now my employees. You provide a service, and I provide you with clothes, money, exotic vacation spots, some excitement," he paused for effect, "And anonymity." The blonde shuddered, clearly trying to suppress a sob. The brunette patted her friend's knee and considered for a moment.

"Our husbands will be looking for us."

"Is that all you're worried about?" He smiled more broadly, "I forgot to include it on the tape. You each made a nice phone call to the machine at your home; you told your other halves you won a spa weekend getaway. This morning a courier will provide them with bland, nonspecific details, though I'm afraid you won't be able to get any direct calls out to them. If things go well, you can call them this evening."

"What do you mean, go well," she countered, then added, "How did you get us here?" He smiled.

"Ah, that's the question, isn't it?" He settled in his chair, "What do you remember?"

"Nothing," Melissa murmured, staring at the blank TV screen.

"From before, of course," he nodded, "But this isn't the first time." Neither woman answered. "I know about the last time you lost a night. I was there when you got those lovely matching piercings. All my girls have them." Melissa went stiff at that, and Kathy's eyes blazed.

"You were the one."

"Of course. I took you out on the town. You two were quite the hit, too. I had all sorts of offers and propositions. Of course, I thought it was only fair to have you show yourselves off to your admirers, and you were quite willing to do so. You even put on a wonderful public fellatio exhibition, sharing me in a display none who were there will forget." Both women flushed as he continued.