Border Patrol 3
I woke up in my cell not knowing whether it was day or night.
I thought about my situation. I was completely fucked. I would be sold to someone who might use me for anything but probably would make me a sex slave for many years.
I felt I was less horrified by the prospect of being a sex slave than I should be. My will to resist was broken if I ever had any. Meeting men in a warm well-furnished brothel would be no worse than rotting in a dimly lit prison cell.
Yazmin woke up and we talked about the fact that we had no idea of what the weather was like or how much time had passed. We agreed that about anything would be better than anxiously waiting to be sold to become sex slaves or dogmeat.
Finally, after I don’t know how many hours, Bill, Doug, and Captain Smith appeared and said that it was our big day. They threw us slippers and warm robes and walked us to a loading dock at which there was a van with a few guards and places for four miserable women to sit.
A short time later we were at the loading dock of some other building. We were led to an elevator that took us and a few guards to the 43rd floor. We all got off and were led to a beauty parlor and bath that looked like it could be part of a fancy spa. We were in a fancy spa for all I know.
Victor was there with a number of older Latinas and a few men acting as guards that looked like they should be deported. I guess, though, that there is no trouble staying in the country if you work for a kidnapper or slave trader.
Victor’s hairdressers and other beauty professionals went over me from my head to my toes. My hair on my head was trimmed in a few places. Every hair below the neck was eliminated as much as possible. Nails were clipped. Women applied lotion in a few places. Lipstick and makeup were applied that made us look like whores. I will admit that I was made up to look like a very classy whore, though.
Victor expressed satisfaction that the videos had come out so well and that we had not been bruised during the creation of the sales videos. He expected a much bigger than crowd for the auction.
The sales items readied for sale as nicely as possible, we were led to a large reception room with a stage. Milling about the room were all my husband Michael’s golf buddies, many of the prominent politicians who I’d hosted at our home in the months before I left for vacation, a couple younger men standing with the Consolidate Amax men I knew, numerous very shady looking characters accompanied by big men in suits who looked like body guards and mafia killers, soldiers from around the world, Chief Richards, Bill, Doug and Captain Smith from the Border Patrol, a few women that were nude or nearly nude wearing collars of various sorts, and my fucking asshole husband.
Michael stopped the men on the way to taking me to the stage. The men wanted to hurry me up to the stage, but Victor smiled and said to let us talk.
Michael was not the least bit apologetic or reluctant to look me in the eye. One might say that he looked very proud of himself. Although I had no reason for hope, I decided to see if I could talk him into freeing me if he could.
“Darling, I learned my lesson and I’m sure you are going to rescue me today and take me home. I’m sorry if I messed up. I promise never to offend you again and to be the model housewife.”
“Well, I guess you had to ask, Karen,” he replied. “In fact, I came to watch your sorry, if beautiful, ass sold and taken so far away that I will never see you again unless I pay to do so. This is a hell of a lot cheaper than my last divorce and more satisfying in every way.
“You will be happy to learn that I’ve already picked out your replacement. She’s five years younger than you and much less experienced in bed than you were when you were 24. But she’s attractive enough and a good religious girl who promises to not be a rebel, a whore, or a Jezebel. You know at my age I don’t really need a woman who will fuck all night so much as one that will be home when I get home and maybe be willing to start a family.
“I must say that I greatly enjoyed the video of you enthusiastically having sex with those three gang members. You will surely be the perfect sex slave.”
Getting defensive, I replied, “you do know that I was told that if I did not act like I’d be enthusiastic about sex with whoever bought my time that I would probably have a short, brutish life as a slave chained to a bed?”
“Of course, Karen. I don’t blame you for doing what you had to do to avoid a horrid fate. That’s not the point. I know you would not have chosen those guys for sex although I don’t know who you did chose to sleep with in Mexico and many other places before you left for that trip. The point is that you proved that you can at least fake being perfectly happy with sex partners that you did not chose and, you can’t fool me, I know damn well that you had numerous orgasms and enjoyed yourself in fucking those thugs.”
I started to tell him that he was a fucking asshole. He laughed. I was pulled up to the steps that led to the stage.
There were no chains or ropes on the stage. Victor said that the customers want to know that we can obey as slaves without chains.
Victor and his assistants spaced us across the stage and told us to lift our arms above our heads and spread our legs about a foot. We were to stay in that position for about an hour and a half.
“The guys have to inspect the merchandise. They are allowed to feel you up, but they can’t hurt anything and if they want to stick a finger inside you, they have to put on plastic gloves.” Victor pointed to a box of hospital gloves.
“You can lower your arms briefly between customers. We normally only leave 45 minutes for inspections by bidders but there is a big crowd today and we want everyone to have a chance to inspect the sales items.”
He said something in Spanish and some other language before announcing to the crowd about them having an hour and a half, but no one should take more than 5 minutes to check each woman out. Victor took a position standing next to me.
Victor told me, “I always stand next to the slut that I think will bring in the most money. I can’t take a chance that someone will mar her in any way that might lower the sales price. Also, we can chat a little between customers. I like to chat with the sluts before they are sold, and I never see them again.”
“Have you ever sold an American citizen before?” I asked.
“Only twice before that I know of, but ICE and the Border Patrol don’t always tell me what they are giving me to sell. The two other women were both a bit like you but in totally different ways. One was a stripper caught in a van who’d gotten a ride with three illegal workers at the gentleman’s club at which she worked. The arresting officers assumed she was illegal like the guys she was with and gave her one of their very thorough searches before discovering their mistake when her story of being born in Tampa checked out. They decided it would be cheaper and more profitable to sell her than to try to apologize and explain. And, you know, so many women like her just disappear it was pretty easy to cover her disappearance.”
“I never worked in a strip club,” I said.
“Yeah, but you are both sluts who like to go to bed with brown men.
“The other citizen I sold was like you in entirely different way. She was rich like you and, like you, got set up for slavery by her hubby. She was a big church goer and active in all sorts of culture war shit against abortion and all the usual sexual minorities. She scolded her husband for drinking and looking at other women. He arranged for her to be grabbed. The official story is that she went to Africa on a missionary trip and to attend some sort of anti-LGBTQ conference. She’s in Africa now being bred in the missionary position among other positions.”
“Are a lot of sex slaves now used for breeding?”
“Yeah, I don’t know if it’s a fad or what. Seems like rich men are like sheep. A few billionaires go into space and all the rich guys want to go into space. A billionaire or so decides to have 14 children with six different women and they all want to.
“Getting a chance to Impregnate a slave costs a bundle but it’s a lot cheaper and more fun than having a lot of brats the usual way with a woman who will expect support.”
By now there was a line in front of each of the four of us on sale. Victor began a running commentary for me on each of the buyers as they came up. Most of them felt up my boobs, and checked my teeth, anus, eyes, feet and did other things. A number of them had medically-trained people with them.
I only remember a few of them.
By far most were in line for me of the four sales items but that was in part because many men were checking me out who were not serious buyers. In particular, Ted Volk of Consolidated AMAX, the younger guys I was told were Volk’s assistants, Michael’s golf buddies Howie and George, and a few other guys, who were looking up or down my dress a few weeks ago at parties at our house orother places, were now able to look close at the whole me and even handle the merchandise.
I could have died of horror and shame. They joked about 33 condoms and how my boobs had moved as I fucked the prisoners. These acquaintances of mine seemed to be in a competition to see who could be the most disgusting. Volk said that he’d been wanting a good look at my tits for years as he rolled each nipple in his hands. A politician joked that I should have gone directly into being a whore when I was 18 as I was obviously a genius at it.
Howie, took a plastic glove and stuck his middle finger up my vagina. “Wow, you’re wet,” he said. “I guess you were made for this.” I think I would have had an orgasm with Howie’s hand if he’d gone on playing with me just a bit longer.
I was soon out of my mind with repressed anger, humiliation and incredible horniness.
A less embarrassing, but more scary, guy who worked me over was a buyer they called La Venganza, which I was told means “the revenge.” Victor told me that he was unlikely to bid much for me because he specialized in buying women who had escaped gangs in Mexico or Central America and returning them to the gangs they fled. “The women who are returned get very rough treatment that I don’t ask about too much. It is better I don’t know.”
“You mean,” I said, “that the U.S. is returning women who were sex slaves to the men who enslaved them knowing that they may be, well you know, and you help them?” I said.
“Yeah, what of it, business is business,” Victor answered. “I run an auction business. I get the most I can. I don’t get paid to think about what happens to the sales item after it’s sold.”
La Venganza got to inspect me right after Howie and picked up on what had not quite happened. He put on a glove and proceeded to pick up with his middle finger where Howie stopped with the result that I had an orgasm right on stage. Howie and a half dozen other guys nearly laughed at my humiliation while I struggled to remain standing. Victor whispered, “that’s good, that’s very good. Having an orgasm on stage helps prove what a hot tamale you are.”
I did not know how to feel about that accomplishment.
A more serious buyer was Madam Z who Victor said ran brothels in Thailand, Vietnam and Malaysia. I asked if it was common for women to buy women as sex slaves. Victor replied, “why not, like I said business is business. You aren’t against economically independent women, are you? Not every girl can grow up to be a trophy wife.”
A buyer also checked me out from Abu Dhabi who Victor said ran a brothel in a high rise. Another potential buyer came from Romania, “he likes to have a few women deep hidden in his house that are sort of exotic along with all the local women who thought they were applying for good jobs in Germany.”
A guy named McCoy Hatfield explored my body but said he probably would not bid. “I got enough white trash in my stable,” he said. Victor added in speaking to me that they generally want to deport women and an American woman would not go to Hatfield’s operation in an abandoned mine in West Virginia although it is reportedly very well hidden and secure. “They sometimes are allowed to buy some foreign slut if Hatfield promises she’ll be kept deep enough in the mine.”
A buyer from Marrakech came with two men, one who looked like an Italian mobster and one in a uniform with a very dark complexion. He also had a woman in her 40s with a good figure wearing only a cape and carrying a medical bag.
“Marcel O’Sullivan pretends to be descended from an Irish woman who was seized by Barberry Pirates and sold in Morocco in the 19th Century. It’s possible but I think he’s the son of a Black Foot Frenchman born in Algeria before the French left. Anyway, he claims to be carrying on the great tradition of slave owners who sold slaves moved north from Timbuktu and people taken by pirates. Of course, it was semi-respectable in the 19th Century and, on paper at least, is illegal even in Morocco now. He runs a very classy brothel, though, I know as I’ve visited myself. As you see, he even has a slave nurse who takes care of women when she’s not being taken by men.”
Victor confided that he was never sure in what order to sell the women. If he sold the woman he thought would go for the most money first, the winning buyer would probably be done for the night and it took a lot of the drama out of the sale. If he sold her last, people might not bid as much on the first three women in order to hold money to bid on the hottest item. “You can’t win.”
I did not express any sympathy for his problem, particularly as a potential buyer from Japanese Yakuza chose that moment to grab my breasts suddenly and stare me in the eyes. As I expressed shock, he waived his left hand, which did not have a little finger, in my face and told Victor, “This slut would look very good on a rack.” He walked off.
“Jirocho’s bark is a bit more than his bite. I’m told he does not torture women unless they misbehave, and they all learn to serve tea nicely between fucks.”
Victor presented an Indian buyer saying he might want to bid a lot as he likes to have a few white women to offer along with his large stock of Dalit girls that he buys from their relatives. He runs one of the biggest brothels in Mumbai.
The natural consequence of all of this customer touching and inspection and Victor’s prattle was to cause me to be scared shitless. After collecting my wits as best I could, I decided that what little I could do to shape my fate was to smile coyly at the buyers that I thought would be tolerable and to avoid the gaze of the monsters.
The potential buyers and others there took their seats. Seated together were a number of my social acquaintances and Border Patrol members Chief Richards, Captain Smith and Doug and Bill.
I could see Michael seated next to Chief Richards. They were laughing and seemed to be mentally waiving the dollars they had made and saved having me sold this way.
Victor had mentioned earlier that most of the money from sales went to the Border Patrol officers on the take. This more than compensated them for the loss of the bonus they were getting officially. Of course, Victor and his organization, whatever it was, got a big percentage
Finally, the auction began. Victor decided to go with the order of Maya, Carmen, Yazmin and me. I did not want to watch the others be sold, but I could not help hearing Victor’s sales prattle as each woman was sold.
As to Maya, he began by talking about how beautiful she was but moved to trying to explain away the fact that she had run away from a brothel. He stressed how enthusiastically she had engaged in all the sex for the video. “She’ll do wonderfully for a buyer who knows how to use the right carrots and sticks.”
I don’t know how much was being bid as all the bids were made in some cryptocurrency I could not translate into dollars. I know that La Venganza bid for Maya who I gather had fled some Guatemalan gang. It came down to Madam Z bidding for the poor girl who was doing her best not to freak out and, without talking, practically begged with her eyes for Madam Z to take her to Asia. If she could not flee to America, a brothel far from Central America was far better than going back there.
Whether out of business acumen or a well-concealed sympathy for women in deep shit, Madam Z eventually won the bid. Victor whispered to me that La Venganza never bids too much for really beautiful women because the gangs can get their message across using less attractive women as well as with expensive ones. I did not wish to pursue the matter further.
Maya practically ran to Madam Z who did not look at her but led her off to her fate.
Although equally pretty I thought, Carmen went for a bit less that Maya. I guess no one wanted to send a message with her body. She should be able to communicate in Spanish with customers in the Manila brothel that bought her.
The bidding on Yazmin was spirited although everyone knew she had run away from one brothel. Victor said she had shown in the video she thought that going back to another brothel would be wonderful and she would be a fabulous sex slave. “She speaks Arabic, Armenian and English.” I thought she would go to Abu Dhabi, but in a surprise move, McCoy Hatfield bid a big number for Yazmin that others did no meet.
As Yazmin speaks very good English, I hoped she’d be able to persuade Hatfield and others to let her see the sun every day and that she’d build up a big following of dotting customers who would want her kept healthy.
Hatfield attached a collar to her neck and a chain before pulling her off like a coal truck.
And then me. I was losing my mind with fear and tension. The bidding probably only went on a few minutes, but with every bid I got to see Michael and his friends smile and laugh and to imagine how bad it would be with each bidder. For a while it looked like I was going to some mobster in Russia, then to Mumbai, and then to a brothel in Argentina that Victor joked branded all of their women like cattle.
When the smoke cleared, the high bidder was Marcel O’Sullivan of Morocco. I gathered that I was indeed the big sale of the night. As Marcel’s assistants came to take me, I saw Michael joking with Marcel and that they had a brief discussion. I wondered what that might be about. Dare I yet hope to return home?
Border Patrol 3
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lovethissite
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lovethissite
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RegressedNegress
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