Otage

~ OTAGE ~

the whore of London

London...
Back to London.
The boat stopped in Barcelona and I had left my friends.
My friends, my lovers, my pimps.
Anyway.
Woman or whore or mistress, I had been all that.
Months of right balance where I had given as much as I had taken.
I had spread my thighs at will but I had also opened my heart. I had listened.
All the sailors spoke me on them. Their family life, their children, their wife.

That they loved.
Even when they took me, when they moved on me, when they moved in me. I was their confidante, their confessor...
M y tummy which accomodated them released the word. How stupid I am... Hihihi. I was going to say "released their tongue".
Woman or whore or mistress, I already wrote it but I was also become their friend.
Even the captain who after a memorable anger when he had seen me reappearing in the mess of the officers, had told me some confidences.
That I will not repeat.
My last evening on the boat was chaste.
I dressed myself carefully. Both wise and provocative.
A nice white-laced dress, white stockings, to be wise.
A showy making up, my nipples too, to be provocative.
They awaited me in the sailors mess, grumbling, surly, with hollow laughters.
Both in a hurry to lead me downtown, but sad, wishing to retain me more and more.
Comedy of men so much tenderizing.
And the unexpected gifts. An enormous (one liter?) bottle of perfume, Chanel; an unimaginable bunch of red roses that the cook pained to carry; clothing, dessous, tailors, coats, (where and how did they obtain all this?) Branded, fashion.
Then a bank statement. On a Luxembourg account. With a credit...
The amount suffocated me. I refused. Not very a long time.
Because Paolo, on the order of the Captain, caught me, bent me on its thighs and spanked me.
I agreed his arguments, I burst into tears, of laughing and pain, and I accepted the present.
I got up, folded back my skirt and kissed them crying.
A kiss of good-bye, a kiss of friend, a kiss of mistress.

I ringged at home, my heart beating.
My home ? The "Mrs and Mr" had disappeared on the plate.

Now it was just "Mr. Tankred"

I was surprised but I didn't care because the door opened.
Georges !
- Kendra ? You ? I thought you are dead ?
I embrace him. He gave me a distant kiss.

- Come in. Don't stay outside, it's cold. Do you want something to eat ? Some tea ?

His coldness surprised me. But I supposed he was stunned.

I sat down on a sofa. A leather sofa, a new one. As the room. And this giant TV !

Georges did up the decoration. In his own way. Poor Georges, always this deplorable liking.

And the tea ! Too strong, too bitter. Finally my poor husband didn't progress in cooking.

He questionned me, wanted to know what it happened with me.

I told him my abduction, the tortures, my simulated execution, my shipping to Pakistan, my rescue by the cargo sailors... I didn't say nothing about my special activities on the boat.

Suddenly I felt tired. A blast of hot air made me opening my leather jacket. I yawned. I was going to ask for going to bed.

I fainted...

An awful feeling of suffocation suddenly woke me up . I tried to push away what I toke for a blanket or a sheet but I couldn't move. To call ? Impossible. I was tied, my wrists and my anckles, and I was gagged by a tape. I was bathed in sweat and something plated on my nostrils prevented me from breathing. I shaked my head, plastic squeaking. I was locked up in a plastic bag. I screamed: nothing went out from my mouth except a grunt. I struggled: in vain. I just increased the breasthlesness. I...

A slap on the bag and Georges voice:"Don't waste your breath Kendra. The bag is well closed. We arrive soon."

Georges ?

Little by little I calmed down my breath, I succeeded in lightly turning on me and I could respire the stale air stinking with my sweat and my fear.

The ground under me was moving, vibrating.I understood that

I was in a car. A car rolling slowly and pitching all over the place.On a track !

A car that suddenly stopped .

"You are welcome. Thirty hectares of forest to hunt. And this deserted old chapel.

I had bought it with your life insurance premium."

Georges unpacked me on that disgusting bed...

"We'll have some fun. Don't forget you're dead. Ah ah ah !"

... tied me to the rungs ...

"I haven't got the time to rap you. I am on duty. Don't get impatient. I'm going to put you in a cool place. Until my next leave"

... ripped my pantyhose, cut my bra.

Georges was busy over there. I had trouble to seeing. The ropes were too tight, so I couldn't turn my head away.

Then he dragged me towards the well he had opened.

"Please go down...
	You see when you want !
		Go down bitch !
			I free you..."

			... on the road ...
		... down to your boudoir

Terminus ! You may untie the knot.

You can scream as you want...

... there is nobody for miles around.

Have a good night !

The light went out, I heard the car starting and move away and I ended up in that well,

naked, frozen, under the dreary eye of the camera.

I slipped on my leather jacket, he throwed it at me, I curled myself up and I was waiting. In despair.

Time flew. One day, one night, I think. The weak light falling in the well had changed several times. It cleared then grew dark then cleared again.

I was hungry, I was thirsty, I was cold, I eeded to ...

I couldn't hold on myself and I did it. Here.

The stink of my excrement mingled with the damp odour of my oubliette.

I heard noises up there. I called with a hoarse voice : it was Georges.

" I am finishing some fitting-out and I 'm going to take care of you.

You are so impatient my dear bitch "

" Tied the rope around your neck "

What could I do. I did it.

"Easier with the winch, isn't it ? "

" Have an aperitif ? "

" Lick the glans ! "

" Come here slut. You have to give you a good scrub "

" Move your ass!"

" This is the Madam's bath. Go! "

" See you later, baby. I have some nice gifts to prepare for you"

He had bent me, my arms, my legs and he dragged me towards the outside, towards the old graveyards.

There was an open tomb that the rain filled.

He pushed me inside. The water chilled me to the bone and I nearly choked.

I struggled, I tried to turn over, to breathe, to hang on to the bars.

He closed the grate, he put down a big stone and he left me soaking in the freezing water, cold as a... grave.

"I 'll make you my slave"

"A slave must be raped, tortured and whipped"

He tiedd me on an old carriage wheel. As he was rambling, he was touching me, pushing his hands inside me.

"So it's whipping time"

I screamed when the lashes tore my breast...

... then my torn apart womb. I was rolling, pitching and always the whip rained on my helpless body.

And what had to happen, happened : he came up to me, handling his turgescent purplish penis.

He brutally rapped me, quickly...

... spread in me.

" Your chains, slave "

The heavy collar was locked around my neck and the irons gripped my anckles, my wrists.

" Eat, slave "

Chained, on all fours, I might gulping the cat food down that Georges throwed in a bowl.

"Slip into that dress. You'll be hot in the well."

"Easier with the winch, isn't it ?"

"Fine to have a handy husband, isn't it ?"

"Come ! One last fuck for the road ? "

He lubricatted my anus and he...buggered me. The iron collar holding me back, crushed my neck and I was hardly feelling the Georges's dick. Suddenly I made a decision. I had to be done with that. Anyway. That bastard would be torturing me until I really die.

I clung on to the chain and I dashed forward.

I heard a cry, then a muted noise and a crack.

I succeeded in getting unhooked and I turned round .

Georges was on the well face and his strangely turned head was staring at me with its dead eyes.

I opened the tool box, I found wrenches and I freed me from my chains.

It was so nice!

The light ! Free, I was free.

The car was here with the keys on the dashboard.

I moved off without thinking. Just running away.

Not far away I stopped. I was shaking all over. The after effects, the cold ?

I had searched the Georges car.

His clutch with some money and his wallet, some female undies and shoes ( for me ?) and an old overcoat that I put on.

And a mobile.

I phoned Paolo.

Et un téléphone portable. They were my only remaining relative I had left.

J'appellai Paolo. Ils ne me restait plus qu'eux.

The boat put in at Aberdeen ( Was I staying such a long time in that hell well ?)

The car GPS gave me the way.

He was here on the quay, waiting for me. I threw me into his arms.

And now ?

I sailed a lot. Now I am an old seadog.

I am a sailor on the boat. I am on service at the mess (what are you thinking about that "service" ?) but I am working anywhere. The manoeuvre so. I have even got a certificate ( well I spent some money to get it)

Now I am about forty and I am happy on this boat.

Sometimes I remember those dreadfull times.

So I write...

The End