THE PICKUP Chapter 5

It was Wednesday. Angel always hated Wednesdays and Sundays, as she knew that one of her regulars would be back to see her. Some of Angel's johns were upset to discover her seathed and tubed clitty; others found the chastized little thing amusing, and liked to torment and humiliate her with it. But this one was particularily ruthless, revelling in her little cylindrical prison. He had begun to seek her out twice weekly, and made constant use of the little ring attached to the pierced-on sleeve. He'd tug, pull, twist; he'd use it to tie or chain her sissy clitty so that her mobility was limited. Her former penis was in agony every second he had with her, and he'd have her in tears after every encounter. He was insulting, gruff, he used the crop on her backside ruthlessly, and he reamed her ass without mercy. And yet, she had to service him. She couldn't refuse: already, she was in danger of not making enough for the girls, and she knew that she had to work hard to keep Carol placated. It might be her only chance at freedom. She had to prove that she wanted that freedom and would do anything to get it.
      This regular was a distasteful sort of man, too. Fat, slovenly, unshaven, she could often detect his body odor before he even rolled down the car window. Every time she was forced to suck off this fat pig of a fiend, her eyes would begin to well with tears -- partly from the girth of the dick she was choking on while deep throating, and partly from his insults. "See this?" he would taunt. "Now that's a real cock. You get to pleasure a real man, in the only ways you can, you little cumslut. Suck it down. Then, I'll fuck you like the little sissy you are. And this miserable excuse for a prick you have here... it gets nothing. It's not worthy of a good fuck."
      Moreover, there was something particularily sinister about this man. He was never short of cash, he seemed very intense, he had a locked cabinet full of semi-automatic weapons, he had blacked-out windows in his home... something wasn't quite right. He often cajoled Angel, goading her on, bragging that he was a powerful man; gloating about some white slavery type of operation. He kept suggesting that he might someday sell Angel off to someone more vile than he, or he might send her off to some Middle-Eastern harem with barbaric practices, or he might lock her up in his basement. "Sure -- you might wake up one night and discover a heavy steel collar welded around your throat, and welded to a chain which runs down into a slab of freshly-cured concrete. How would you like that?"
      The answer, of course, was "not very much." She had told Carol about him, and Carol had intercepted him one evening when he arrived to pick her up. Angel's mistress had concluded that he was simply into power trips and mind games, that he liked to intimidate and frighten the little minx. She concluded that he liked to taste Angel's fear. And certainly, he hadn't done anything that indicated that his claims might be true, But Angel still had a bad feeling about him.
      But it was Wednesday, and Angel saw his familiar black van prowl along the curb until it slowed to a stop near her. Angel didn't even lean in the window anymore, she simply climbed in, already knowing the deal. She wrinkled her nose at the odor, and prepared to be creeped out.
      She knew the drill. Once her door was closed, she'd hear all the doors lock with the touch of a button. He'd bind her wrists together and tuck them between her thighs, and then pull her seat belt across her, the lap belt helping secure her arms. An additional strap pulled around her lower waist immobilized her limbs even more. Then he'd pull from the curb, proceed several blocks, turn into an alley and stop. There, unseen by anyone outside, he'd proceed to blindfold her, and slip a rubber penis-gag into her mouth. He'd play with her nipples a bit, and insult or tease her mercilessly. This time, he whispered in her ear, "one of these days, I won't be taking you to the usual place, you know. One of these days, I'll be taking you off to your new life as a Bangkok prostitute or a European ponygirl."

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      She shuddered. "It might even be tonight," he added, malevolently. "How would you like that?"
      She whimpered. She knew that he craved her terror more than anything. If she stopped being sufficiently horrified, that would be when she'd be in danger of any escalation of this game -- if it was a game. As long as she was clearly sufficiently afraid, it would be enough for the moment.
      This evening, she stiffened in her seat, shaking with the fear. He could tell by her heavy breaths that she was afraid, and was happy with that. His hand moved to her thighs, traced a line between them up under her skirt, and started toying with the little captive nestled there. The tension was teasing and exciting, and the excitement was uncomfortable to say the least when her clitty tried to expand beyond its confinements.
      He chuckled. After that, the van began to move again, proceeding with a few turns and curves -- enough to lose Angel's sense of distance and direction -- and arriving in what seemed to her to be an attached garage. She felt no wind, and could detect a faint gasoline smell when released from the van. As she ascended the steps into the house (where her blindfold might or might not be removed), the air remained stale, indicating that they never once set foot out of doors.
      Once inside, he would take her to the basement, past a dark storage area, to a cell built into a far wall. It was dimly lit by an overhead lamp, and had two barred doors to pass through to gain entry. Each was protected by a combination pass-code that he alone knew. Obviously, this was not a typical john, but someone who took his sadism seriously. He'd put her through a rigorous session of punishment on her backside -- sometimes spanking, sometimes whipping or paddling, this time caning -- and then have her kneel before him, as he sat on the cot. At this point, she always knew what to do, unzipping his trousers and taking him in her mouth as she would pleasure him to climax. This time, though, he bound her wrists behind her.
      This complicated things, a bit. She couldn't unzip his fly with her hands, she had to get right in there with her mouth. She pressed in as far as she could using her tongue to pull up the little metal band of the zipper so that her teeth could catch it. A few times, it slipped. Then, clenching, she had it and slid delicately downward, the friction of her face along the fabric obvioulsy causing him some delight as his manhood inflated in size. Once the fly was undone, he helped her a bit with the remaining fabric.
      From there, she had a little more experience with pleasing his swollen cock. She kissed the head, nibbled it gently, teased the length of it with her tongue. She flicked her tongue along the glans, and gently kissed and sucked along the underside of it, about halfway down. All of these ministrations made him harder, and Angel was soon ready to pop the thing in her luscious mouth. She opened wide, and his cock's sticky cream brushed her upper lip as it slid inside.
      Angel was an expert at this, knowing to keep her upper lip stiff enough to cover her teeth and prevent them from brushing his shaft. Her tongue flicked along his underside as she slowly took it in, then, creating a vacuum in her mouth, the pressure was increased as she slid back. She pleasured the top half for a few minutes before going further.
      His cum was hot and salty, tickling her tongue. The first little bit tasted sour, but that passed quickly, as she readied herself to deep-throat him. Catching her breath, she ignored the taste and pushed herself far down the pole, stifling her gag reflex (something she was now practiced at), and taking him in her throat until his pubic hairs tickled her nose. She slid back and drew a breath, and then repeated. She slowly picked up her rhythm, building, until he began to gyrate with her movements. The breath control made her feel a little light-headed, but she continued until she was being practically fucked in her throat by their combined movements. The pace became feverish, and Angel felt like she would choke. Her captor put both hands on the back of her head and pulled her in as close as she could come to his groin, his cock blocking her, almost suffocating her, and he squeezed his thighs together tight around her head. Angel thought she would asphyxiate.
      Suddenly, he allowed her to slid back off the occlusion, and helped her pull the head right out of her mouth. Angel knew to keep tonguing it, and as she did so, it exploded in her face, hot jets streaming along her lips and cheeks and nose, then slowly crawling downward to dribble down her chin. With his spurting, sticky cock, he spread his cum all over her lower face. She wanted to pull away from the disgusting display, but didn't dare.
      Her thoughts drifted to her favorite customer, her gentleman dom. She would gladly wear his cum, any day, rather than this putrid ogre's. She realized how much she was beginning to love him, and crave the respect and patience he showed her. She wished he could take her away from her johns; her life on the street; her humiliation. She wanted to belong to him alone. It felt like an unattainable dream.
      The semen felt weird on her skin, a sticky shrinking kind of feeling. The old man stepped out of the cell and left her on her own for awhile as he usually did, although (still bound) Angel was still unable to try to clean herself up. She tried brushing her cheek along her shoulder, but that just spread it into a bigger mess -- and now, it was on her clothes.
      Finally, after what must have been twenty minutes of waiting, he returned to take her back to her corner. He kept her wrists bound behind her back, and led her to the stairwell.
      It had to be her imagination. As they passed the basement storage area, Angel could have sworn she saw a row of cages 4-foot square, some with female-looking occupants. It had to be her imagination. The alternative terrified her.
      He said no more as he buckled her into his van, and blindfolded her for the drive home. When they reached their destination, he removed the blindfold, tucked her payment into her bra and reached up under her skirt to diddle with her captive. Finally, he undid the seat belt.
      He left her on the curb, her hands bound and his drying cum still on her face. She was nearly in tears, being exposed this way, and ran home to Carol. All the while, she wished for her lover's arms to wrap around her, to protect and comfort her.

(end of story thus far)