Caging Caitlyn Read online

  But Cait was weak and tired. And over sexed. The alcohol, the stimulation was all too much. She'd fight later. First she'd rest, just for a moment.

  Hands were dragging her into the back seat of the black car. Dimly she heard her own car starting in the background. The last thing she remembered was being laid down flat and stripped her of her shoes. Men were talking but it sounded like a dream.

  "Fuck it, check this out. The bitch ain't got no underwear. You sure we can't score us a little piece up front?"

  "No, you asshole, we can't. Anyone touches her is a dead man."

  "Who says?"

  "Draco, that's who. The woman is his."

  Cait tensed up one last time and then she was gone.

  * * * *

  Anton Draco beheld the beautiful sleeping agent. She was his property now, his toy. And for as long as he saw fit he would tease and torment and torture her, masking him pay her back what was owed for her treachery.

  Never had a woman played him for such a fool. Posing as a go-between for a powerful narcotics syndicate, manipulating him into huge drug deals while slowly building an airtight case that would eventually bring him down along with his top lieutenants.

  He'd fought tooth and nail to avoid conviction, killing five of the state's witnesses, but it wasn't enough. In fact, that too was turned against him in the end. As always, the cunning dark haired bitch, the green eyed federal whore had been there to thwart him and ultimately seal his doom.

  She'd accomplished her goal, at least in the short run. She'd seen him locked up, the key supposedly thrown away. But what the pretty little agent had failed to bargain of was the determination and will power of a man bent on revenge.

  In many ways he had her to thank for his escape from federal custody. Ironically, it was his desire for revenge that had given him the strength to get the job done. There was no risk he would not take now, no obstacle he would not overcome. And there was an exploded, bullet riddled prison transport bus at the bottom of a California cliff to prove it. Only one man had escaped the unfortunate “accident,” and that was Draco.

  As far as the authorities would ever know, the charred body left in his place would be him. And so he'd slipped across the border to Mexico and from there to a country even further south where a man could buy himself anything for the right price, even a new identity. It was here he planned to stage his long dreamt of revenge scenario against Caitlyn Ross. In the long months since his initial arrest, he'd had plenty of time to imagine what he'd do to the gorgeous agent who'd made a fool of him and nearly stolen his freedom. Now it was her freedom gone, her old life, her very humanity.

  Mopping his brow, against the tropical heat, he continued to regard her. She slept so peacefully. Like a little child. What was she dreaming of away in chloroform land? Had she a clue what awaited her when she woke up? It had been three days since her taking and in all that time she'd been kept in this state, like some modern day sleeping beauty. Draco savored the moment of awakening her. In a thousand ways he'd done this before in his mind, raping her, making her beg and scream, breaking her body and spirit. When he was done with her in real life, she'd scarcely recognize herself.

  So far she hadn't been touched. She had her clothes, her smart gray skirt suit, minus her shoes and her panties, which apparently she was going without these days.

  It was almost a shame not to have them, because it would be one less thing to strip away from her.

  "Let's begin,” he said to Victor, the bald headed behemoth and Largo the muscular, scar faced Bahamian. “Awaken her. Very gently, if you please."

  The Hawaiian shirted thugs looked at each other blankly. Gentle wasn't in their vocabularies.

  "Brush her cheek, Victor. Like she was your girlfriend."

  The man scowled, ambling over to lay a thick knuckle on the girl's fair cheek. It was a stark reminder how he could crush her with minimal effort.

  Caitlyn wrinkled her lips and muttered something in her sleep. Such an angel; she was the kind of woman who'd look better the worse she was treated. With her hair damp and matted, stuck to her pinkened cheeks, she looked delectable already. So helpless. So ready for pain.

  Draco's cock thickened under his trousers as she turned to her side, subconsciously shying away from Victor's advances. In was her last act of freedom; in mere moments her world would come crashing down around her and she would learn the terrible, unalterable truth.

  Never again would she be permitted to withhold or deny that proud little body to a man of his choosing. Henceforth she would fuck, suck and suffer on command.

  "Largo, tickle her feet,"

  The black assassin, clearly out of his element, ran his fingers awkwardly over the tiny bottoms of the female's bare feet. Agent Caitlyn laughed, her eyes still closed. The sight of it filled him with sudden fury. How long had she been laughing like this at him? Weeks? Months? Since the first moment she laid eyes on him? No matter. Soon she'd be crying.

  Welcome to hell, Special Agent Caitlyn Ross.

  "Give her a drink,” he held out the tequila bottle.

  Largo grinned. Here was something the leg breaker could wrap his twisted brain around.

  "Rise and shine, bitch,” he glommed a healthy handful of her long black hair.

  Jerking her neck to a forty-five degree angle, he thrust the bottle between gasping lips. The prisoner coughed and choked, the burning liquor drowning her throat. It was too much too fast, the excess pouring down her chin and soaking her blouse and blazer.

  Wide eyed, she gaped her jaws to scream. Now it was Victor's turn to give her something to suck on.

  "Shut the fuck up,” he shoved the forty-five-caliber pistol where the tequila bottle had been. “Or I'll cap you one."

  The poor girl shook pathetically. Draco gave her a few moments to take in her surroundings. The cheap hotel room with its broken shutters, peeling, yellowed wallpaper, its floor and ceilings covered with roaches, lizards and any other crawling things that could manage to survive the mean, polluted streets of Cristobal City.

  Element by element, she absorbed it all with panic stricken eyes. Doubtless these were not the accommodations she was used to through the agency. The best part was when she finally recognized him, standing there in his khakis, hands casually inserted in his pockets. Instantly the lovely female face froze in disbelief.

  "Hello, Agent Ross. I trust you had a good rest?” Draco inclined his head, indicating for the two men to back off, just for the moment.

  Caitlyn immediately sat up in the middle of the fifty cent a night bed, caked with come and stinking of a thousand different whores and their johns.

  "Where am I?” she wanted to know, her voice surprisingly strong given her ordeal.

  Draco clucked his teeth. “Come, come, Agent Ross, you can be more imaginative than that. ‘Where am I?’ is the most predictable opening line in the book."

  "Sorry if I'm disappointing you,” she snapped sarcastically. “Let's try another: Why aren't you in prison, you miserable fuck?"

  Draco chose to ignore the insult for the time being. “For the same reason you are not home safe and sound in your own bed. It's destiny. You and I are meant to be together, it seems."

  Caitlyn frowned, looking absolutely adorable. “Whatever you're trying to do, Draco, you won't get away with it."

  "Won't I? Take a look outside,” he gestured magnanimously to the window. “I'm afraid you'll find Dorothy's not in Kansas anymore."

  She eyed the thugs warily.

  "Go on, they won't stop you."

  It took her a moment to slip her legs over the edge of the bed and lift herself to her feet. She was weak. A weak, drugged, tequila soaked woman who was about to be in a world of shit she couldn't even imagine.

  "It's fucking Mexico,” she stood at the ledge looking out over the busy street, jam packed with push carts, dented taxis and bedraggled pedestrians. “Now who's being predictable?"

  Draco laughed at her cheekiness. “You should be so lucky as to
be in Mexico, sweetheart. We're a thousand miles south, two borders down."

  She was trying hard to keep her equilibrium. Draco could smell the beginnings of fear on her-it was a fatal mistake for the woman because now he would tear her heart apart like a wild animal.

  "If you think you can keep a federal agent hostage, Draco, you're even dumber than I thought. You just made yourself a terrorist, asshole. You know what happens to terrorists nowadays? There won't a shithole deep enough to hide yourself in."

  Draco smiled indulgently at this last, futile showing of backbone. It was time she learned the true nature of male power over the female.

  "Rape her,” he said to Victor and Largo.

  The blood drained from the agent's face. Whether out of sheer panic or bravery, she attemped to dive out of the window.

  It was Largo who stopped her, making a handle of her drenched hair. Bending her at the waist as he forced her stumbling back to bed. She landed face first on the mattress.

  Largo shoved a hand down on the middle of her back and grabbed the waistband of her skirt with the other. The material stood no chance against the man's strength. Nor did the agent herself.

  "Ready for some nice dark meat?” he growled.

  The cries from her pretty mouth were utterly in vain as Largo's dick hammered its way home from behind.

  "Pussy any good?” Victor wanted to know, anticipating his own turn.

  "Not bad,” he grunted, the girl's body buried under his. “Nice and tight."

  "Agent Ross, I'd advise you to lubricate yourself to whatever extent you can,” Draco told her. “You'll only make it harder on yourself by fighting."

  Caitlyn balled her fists, pounding the bed in futility. “Go to hell, Draco."

  "I already have, my sweet, and I've taken you along for the ride."

  "You'll get the electric chair for this. You'll be hunted down. They'll send Special Forces after me,” squealed the violated agent.

  "It's rude of you to be talking to me,” taunted Draco, “and not your lover. Especially when he's putting forth so much effort."

  "It's all right, boss. The cunt's getting nice and wet, just like all the rest of the girls."

  "You always were the ladies man, Largo. How about it, agent? Are you warming yourself nicely for him? It is, after all, your new function in life. Pleasing men, that it."

  Largo grunted, fully immersed as he made full and luxurious use of the small, captive woman. Taking his time, he eventually released himself, spilling a full load inside her. She made no move to rise as the man got off her. Seemingly reconciled, she braced herself for her next rapist.

  Victor, however, had something else in mind.

  "Turn over,” he smacked her ass hard, leaving a huge handprint on her buttocks.

  Caitlyn was crying as she rolled over onto her back. “Please, I'll satisfy you all if you let me go."

  "You'll do that anyway, my dear. Today and every day for the rest of your life,” Draco said. “Besides, we don't much care at the moment how willing you are, do we gentlemen?"

  "Legs wide, bitch,” Victor indicated his answer by shredding her blouse in his hands.

  "But there must be another way,” she whined, no longer sounding like the cocky bitch she'd been a few minutes ago. “My government will pay money."

  The delay cost her a backhand from Victor, hard enough to make her head reel.

  "It's not money I want,” Draco explained. “Surely you've figured that much out?"

  Victor raised his arm again. “I said open wide!"

  "Don't hit me! I'll do what you say!"

  Cait separated her legs. Largo's semen was dripping from her pussy.

  "This better be good, cunt,” growled Victor as he knelt between her splayed thighs and unzipped himself.

  "Put your hands over your head, agent,” ordered Draco as she tried to hug her breasts for safekeeping. “Palms up."

  The even more vulnerable position was sure to arouse her. Indeed, her cheeks looked quite flush and her breath was quickening as she put herself into submission.

  "Got to get a look at them tits,” Victor sliced her bra open, severing the material between her breasts with a switchblade. “Oh, yea, that's what I'm talking about."

  Agent Ross whimpered but made no move to resist as he flicked aside the halves of the bra and ran the knife blade over her full mounds.

  "Fuck,” slobbered Victor. “Are these real?"

  "Of course they are, aren't they, Caitlyn?"

  She nodded yes to Draco's question, her voice seeming to have caught in her throat as the knife blade pushed down into one of her full nipples.

  "You'd like to have Mr. Victor inside you, wouldn't you?” asked Draco.

  She shook her head yes.

  "Sat it out loud."

  "I-I'd like him ... inside me."

  "Say, ‘Please, Mr. Victor, won't you fuck me?’”

  Cait repeated the question, directing it to the evilly grinning man above her. She was reminded of Luke's game, only these men were playing for keeps.

  "Damned right I will, sister."

  Thanks to Largo's fluids, mixed with what smelled to be her own, Victor was able to penetrate with relative ease. Grabbing her breasts like knobs, he settled down for a good, old-fashioned screw.

  "Don't just lay there, slut,” he aimed his gun at her head. “Show me how bad you want it."

  The agent whimpered again, this time lifting her pelvis. It was a fine line between her doing this under duress and really being aroused. Draco had seen it in bitches like her before.

  The tougher they were on the outside, the more passionately they responded on the inside. In time Agent Ross would learn to orgasm from the beatings alone. So, too, she would learn to crawl on her belly, begging for the chance to lick his boots.

  "Fuck it, Largo's right, she's tight boss. You're gonna enjoy this,” Victor assured him.

  Draco had no comment. His tastes ran to the sadistic side. It wasn't just her pussy he wanted, it was her tears.

  "Have her fellate the pistol,” he instructed Victor.

  Victor moved the gun between her lips, pushing it deeper than Largo had done. “You heard the boss. Suck it good, cunt, or I'll blow your head off."

  There it was. The female was sobbing softly, trying to take the deadly weapon deep while still pleasuring him sufficiently between her legs. It was a good lesson for the girl. Up to now her value had been measured by her skills and experience, by the hundreds and thousands of dollars invested in her training. From now on her value, her justification for living at all, would depend solely on her ability to satisfy men with her body.

  Himself first and foremost.

  "That's enough,” Draco rubbed his hard on. “It's my turn."

  Victor surrendered his place reluctantly.

  "Get out,” the boss commanded them both. “Leave us be."

  Largo pushed the other man, who was scowling blatantly over having been denied his chance at climax. “You heard him,” said Largo. “Move it."

  Draco made a mental note to have Victor killed for his insolence. For whatever reason, the man had developed a mind of his own. And that was something he could ill afford in a henchman. Or in a sex slave.

  Heavily he sat down beside her, with no immediate intent other than to allow her own imagination to begin the job of intimidation. He could see the recoil in her eyes as he grazed her cheek with his finger and stroked her forehead

  "And so, my dear,” he murmured. “It's down to you and me. Till death do us part..."

  Chapter Two

  "Again,” said the gangster, seemingly insatiable as he climbed back onto Cait's face.

  Chained now and naked, she took Draco's re-hardened dick between her lips almost as if it belonged there. Already she was more accommodated to serving him than she dared admit. In just a few short hours, he had done things to her, made clear in no uncertain terms how her status had changed in life. Permanently.

  There was resistance left in her
, but it was becoming harder and harder to access. At first she'd wanted it to be just a bad dream, a simple nightmare from which she'd awaken to find herself safe in her own bed, lost in a world of white linen, her two snow white cats snuggled down beside her. Some of her past boyfriends had made fun of her for her frilly, feminine world, especially the macho cop types. But that was who she was, and when it came to being loved, nothing beat having a strong, virile man enter that chamber and take her, amidst the goose down and snowflakes and soft white furs.

  How far that world seemed from her now. The bed on which she lay stank, the lumpy mattress reeking of body odor and stale sex, alcohol and cigarette smoke. There was no telling what had happened here before and to whom. She didn't want to know, either.

  It was enough to try and comprehend how she'd managed to end up here in the first place. The last thing she remembered was the parking garage and before that the alley behind Corcoran's. Luke's hard cock up inside her, staking its claim on her pink and tender asshole. She'd squealed for him like a little bitch, wanting to take his semen deep in her narrow canal. But he'd wanted her mouth and so she'd gone down to her knees, subjugating herself on the concrete, garbage-strewn asphalt.

  Compared to this, the alley had been like paradise. And Luke, for all his macho domination was a prince, a pure gentleman alongside Draco.

  "I've been waiting a long time, Agent Ross,” he began to rock his pelvis. “Night and day in my tiny cell awaiting sentencing, I fantasized. You will suffer terribly, of course. I will beat and abuse you, degrading you in ways you cannot even imagine. And yet when I am through with you, you will want still more, for I will make you to be the sort of creature that craves the worst kind of treatment. You will be a pain slut, Agent Ross; my pain slut."

  Cait slurped at the cock, desperately trying to please. It was a force fuck of her face, a mouth rape and he was leaving her no option but total and complete surrender.

  "If you gag I will cut out your tongue,” he informed her.

  Caitlyn decided her best hope was to finish the man off as quickly as possible. Working up as much saliva as she could, she sought to apply something of the technique she'd acquired over the years in pleasuring males. In her days with the motorcycle gang she'd gotten quite good at it. It had always been a turn on for her because of what it represented. The full and perverse submission of the woman to the man. Her highest faculty, the organ of speech, was being rendered into a fuck hole. Penis pushing against the roof of her mouth, balls slapping her chin, cock hair tickling her nose, the smell of manhood unabashedly invading her nostrils.