Otage

He presented my buttocks, my belly to the other officers,...

...and forced to me to sit down with my thighs widely open.

~ HOSTAGE ~

the whore of the cargo

I hardly remember the voyage by truck on the bad tracks of Iraq. I believe that the terrible heat which reigned in the case, the stinking smell of my body and its dejections, the infernal suffering caused by the objects which smashed my anus, my vagina and my mouth with each bump, thirst also, had plunged me in an almost total unconsciousness.

I gathered memories when light draught, slipping through the boards, the murmurs of a harbor, gulls, siren of boat, a vague gleam and a perfume of salt finally woke up me.
I tried to scream, to call for help but the rubber member which dilated my lips muzzled my attempts.

The case moved, turned on itself, oscillated. Noises of a machine. A shock which made me groan. A large deaf slapping as a trap door is closed again. Then darkness. Sea, a boat... I supposed it

Slow rolling, odours of fuel oil, the humming and permanent vibrations of the machinery gave me nausea.
But I had already thrown up all that my dislocated body could return.

Suddenly, in the state of coma where I was, to my surprise, the muzzle was removed.

My jaws went shakingand a stream of water sprinkled my face.

I drunk, I strangled myself, I closed my eyes.
I drank more.

Then a nozzle forced its way through my lips and a sweetened liquid ran down my throat.

I aspired with frenzy, I sucked this nozzle, the food which dropped there... still and still

The rubber sex invaded my mouth again.

I groaned with despair. I struggled, doing nothing but wounding me even more.

The case moved. The piles tore me, the ropes sheared me. I passed out.

........

I awoke on something rough. It was the first feeling I f elt. I was lengthened on a coarse carpet, in a cabin.
The Captain's cabin. "Eat", he said, waving me a slice of bread

That I caught. My wrists were cuffed. But I ate this bread, rolled in ball in a corner.

"I transport goods and I am responsible for that. In this crate, you would have died sooner or later. I'm offering you a deal. Make the whore for the crew and you will have a cabin of your own. You will be correctly treated. No torture. You sell your cute little piece of ass, that's all.
Once we arrive, in three weeks, I put you back in the case and I deliver you as a good in proper condition.
In exchange, you give me all that your bitch business cashes out. What do you think about it?

Be an animal in the box, soon to be dead, or sailors' pet, alive?"

I shivered. Three weeks of respite. Almost free. After what I had undergone, to be used as pastime by sailors seemed to be a deliverance. And I was going to live.
And keep hope.

"I accept, Captain..."

"Good. I'll have you lead to your cabin. Rest, you need to. My men will not pay for a sick whore. Paolo, go with her. Once she'll feels better, the men will be able to have good time with her. What's your name? It is written on your medal... But no, never mind. From now on, you'll be Rosy, the whore of the cargo. Now go!"

The cabin was sinister. With no port-hole. But, even if chained by my ankle, I tested an intense feeling of freedom there. Finally alone. In a way, at home. I rushed on a water bottle, then devoured the content of a can of preserve (beans and tomatoes I believe).
Satisfied, I deadened in a sleep without dream.

At daytime, I was quiet. I lunched from a can, took care of my toilet. I did whatever seemed good to me. Reading the few books Paolo gave me, taking a rest on the battered mattress. Until the beginning of evening.

The news had spread quickly (I believe a sign was pinned out on the door) and at of the end of the afternoon the sailors flowed. I granted them with my favours, with more or less goodwill.

They paid me, sometimes after numerous requests, making nicely fun of me, and little by little I filled with coins and notes the old box I used as a hand bag. They were hard men, and even if they were sailors on this boat acting in the margin of legality, they were decent people

Of course, I was just their whore, but they were not just fucking me. Sometimes, some of them even gave me pleasure

Late in the evening, the Captain used to have me brought before him. At his cabin, he released my cuffed wrists (my hands were always bound when I was away from my cabin), then pointed at the bathroom. I had to shower, dry myself then powder my face.

He liked outrageous make-up. So I often had to look like a prostitute. And besides: this was what I was. Then he chose my clothes for the evening, always different ones, and a wig too. It too changed each time. Why did he own so many different outfits? I do
not know. Maybe he was just some kind of a fetishist.

He then led me to the officers' wardroom. He loved acting like an important man, and wanted his fellows to be always comfortably treated. But I was the whore, so was I to behave as such. He presented my buttocks, my belly to the other officers, and forced to me to sit down with my thighs widely open.

Once the meal over, we turned over to his cabin, where I offered my body to him. My belly or my mouth.

Or both. According to his desires.

However our trip was approaching its end. And me mine. I didn't know what would happen "over there" but I surely was terrorized by it. My sleep was full of nightmares, and that very special night, I must have looked truly exhausted when I went to prostitute myself in crewmen's quarters. I behaved like a true bitchy dog. Some kind of delirious madness had overwhelmed me, and I had made them cum like they never did before. I too got my share of pleasure. Sick with this terror that consumed me and that I had evacuated by comprising me like the worst of the whores.

We were all exhausted, the sailors regaining forces by drinking beer after beer. They asked me why I seemed to feel so bad. Hesitating at first, I simply answered "I am scared" as I sought shelter in Paolo's arms.

They had burst in laughs. Fat Peter then explained me everything.

"No way we return our sweet little whore. Not to these savages. You will remain with us on this boat. But not a word to the Captain and trust us. Kendra, have faith in us"
Yes Kendra. They called me my first name when they were between them. Never in front of the Captain.

The machines had stopped. Someone was barking orders outside as the unloading of the goods begun.

A simple good I was, as the Captain had pointed out to me. Again, I found myself in front of this horrible box, hands tied in the back (over with the almost comfortable shackles)

The day before, The Captain had fucked me like a savage animal, maybe to expel the guilt he felt. And without allowing me to shower, he had sent me back to my tiny cabin, wearing nothing but this ridiculous tee-shirt barely covering my chest.

Orders had been given to leave me tightly bound for the night. I had not been able to clean myself, so there I was, dirty, my make-up devastated, shivering of a bad sweat, my legs shaking and barely keeping me upright.

The Captain, without a single look at me, left me in Peter and Paolo's hands, specifying them:
"Don't be too hard on tightening the ropes. Rosy served us well, after all "

Paolo winked at me as the Captain moved away.

"Ok, we're gonna keep our little whore with us, but we must make sure she ain't gonna run away. Or warn the cops.

So we're gonna hide you in an hidden compartment of the hold. And properly bound, lady!"

"Here, with that you won't run away "

"And that to prevent your screams"

"Go ahead Kendra! Let's go, puppy. Ouaf Ouaf! Ah ah!"

"Come on, hurry up !"

Paolo lead me by pulling the chain padlocked to my intimate ring, towards the deepest part of the boat.

The cook (I never knew his name, everyone called him, "cook") was waiting for us near plate sheet he had unbolted.
Paolo pushed me in the dark hole.

"Get in there, Kendra", he said, running his hand between my thighs.

"Ah! Looks like the Captain screwed you well yesterday night"

He padlocked the chain to a docking ring or whatever, then carefully bound my ankles.

I laid the best I could in the tiny room, and before they bolted the sheet back in place, Paolo gestured me to remain silent.

"Don't be afraid, there will be much noise soon, your box will fall on the bad side of the boat. Deep in the basin.

“The savages won't search for you. They'll believe you drowned and won't take the risk to seek the box. So be quiet. We'll leave tomorrow with the tide. Don't get impatient. And don't run away... Ha ha ha!"

The plate sheet fell down on the hole, and I found myself alone, in the darkness.

I heard them tightening the bolts. Then the fading noise of their footsteps...

I stood up. Barely because of the chain wounding my sex. And I waited.

My heart was beating like hell. I heard it. As I heard my breathing too.

They were like raging drums and a roaring hurricane echoing in this confined space. I waited.

I closed my eyes, I tried to calm down. I waited.

A loud and sudden noise. Like something huge falling into the water.

Something? The box? Then the boat started to pitch under the bumping of the waves.

People were yelling outside, howling, in much agitation as people ran on the bridge of the boat

I held my breathing for better hearing. They still shouted still but less and less.

Then the noise of footsteps. Someone knocking on the wall, a whisper.

“As said as done, Kendra. Sleep well, I'll see you tomorrow.

We made it, sweetie. We managed to keep our mascot, to keep our little whore."

It felt like the first sunlight of spring, after the short, sad and grey days of a never-ending winter.

Locked up in the double wall, padlocked, chained, muzzled, I was finally freed from my terror.

Whatever may brings the days, the months to come, I knew that I was saved.

I knew that I was free.

The End

Text and pictures by Agnes
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Translation by Helene
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