He continued to trace his fingertips along the inner thighs of the much younger woman. He called her Tall Brew because she was a statuesque brunette. She hated the nickname. She was here - in this place - against her will. And couldn’t leave. Not even to grab a coffee at Dunkin Donuts. But even she would readily admit that the decidedly older male fondling her labia provided her with an ongoing series of ripping fine orgasms. And at least the food he afforded her was edible. Small positives.
With her legs splayed and her hands bound up tightly behind her back - restraints were a constant in this place - she was reminding the man (assuring him) that she would ‘behave’ while he was away. Both participants were aware that the man was slated to be off almost immediately upon a quest to obtain anything new. Anything ‘fresh’.
Anything young.
She asked if she could please be left unfettered during his absence. She longed to be free to roam the premises wherein she’d been existing her life these past few days and weeks. The tall brunette made such entreaties upon the man with the carrot that she’d spend her time tidying up her cell. And primping her body for his eventual return. She admitted for the umpteenth time as the man’s index and middle fingers began sensually probing her vagina that she relished his touch, his time, his attention. Here…in this place.
She begged him to condescend in providing her with an orgasm once he’d returned. The female now bucking her hips slightly as the man played with her intimacy referred to herself as the whore who deserved very much to be here. As the object who only had value once her clothes were off. She told the man she adored him. And that she worshipped his cock.
The last thing the man did before he set out for something new, something fresh, was to unbind Tall Brew’s hands and kiss her on each nipple. The last thing the man thought as he ventured out to procure Mira Beck was how exhilarating it was going to be to have a petite blonde to compliment his tall brunette.
*************
Twas set. The Controller had the duct tape…the cattle prod. Had the locale scoped out and the van idling perfectly. He’d been doing this for more than four decades. And wasn’t in any way considering retirement.
Mira was right on time. Looking as fetching as ever. The Controller killed the engine, exited the vehicle and made his way to the empty sidewalk. In his mind Mira’s footsteps were already etched in the pavement…as though she’d walked in soft cement and left telltale signs of her kidnapping. Every reconnaissance and each rehearsal had led up to this moment.
Until there was Mira. Four, maybe just three strides away. Until…until the Controller truly ‘saw’ Mira Beck for perhaps the very first time. She was only nineteen. And he was stunned.
Yes…her eyes were pale blue. And her admirer reprocessed the intel he’d gathered that confirmed the coed wore those glasses upon her face strictly because she liked the way the frames set off her eyes. Uncanny.
Yes…the tattoo was impressive. Starting at his prey’s left elbow and reaching up Mira’s arm to her shoulder and back the coiling representation of Bennie (minus her Jets) gave the villain pause. So much artistry there…so much color. How Mira must have munched on lemon wafers and sipped hot tea as the tattooist marred her pristine body. Yet augmented her allure. Exquisite. The waif did seem to prefer wearing thee most revealing tops.
Yes…it had to be strawberry-banana. The wad of chewing gum in that delicious mouth. Mira’s trademark…Mira’s umbilical to her trashy youth. Behind the wire frames and the bluish-green tattoo was the Controller’s victim’s face contorted with the effort needed to subdue a wad of strawberry-banana chewing gum the size of a harmonica. Uncanny.
So close. Such proximity. Almost an intimacy already with Mira Beck. The Controller slowed and finally halted his approach towards Mira. Along the avenue he’d determined served his sadistic purpose best. In scant seconds it would be real.
Until the Controller realized at this critical juncture he was contemplating Mira as a human being. Not just a body on display in a provocative top and a criminally short skirt.
“Hey! Boomer……what the fuck?”
The Controller bolted free of his reverie related to Mira’s cleavage with a shock. He’d been standing stock still in the light traffic of Taupin Road. Like a schoolboy what seen his very first Corvette. Upon the sidewalk Mira was gazing up at him from only a few paces away. Blue eyes inquisitive from behind the metallic, non-prescription frames. Pale breasts in splendid contour and that bubble gum granted a brief respite from its torture. Adorable as all fuck.
“Christ! My bad!” The Controller hopped onto the safety of the sidewalk and stood across from (yet painfully close to) Mira. ‘That’ Mira. ‘His’ Mira. Stood there much as an elderly uncle might pose aside a favored niece. “Ha! Thank you for saving my life…”
“Whatever. Be careful dork! Damn you’re cute…”
The Controller tried not to tremble. She talked like optimism. Sounded like joy.
“Hey gray fox…cat got your tongue?”
The Controller willed himself not to look over the portions of Mira’s body left uncovered by her slutty attire.
“Ha ha! My bad, yes. Excuse me…my mind was elsewhere. Not familiar with this end of town. Again…much gratitude for acting as my guardian angel, young lady. Say…would you be offended if an older gentlemen commented on how pretty you are?”
The Controller categorically refused himself the cringe worthy pleasure of telling Mira how enticing her breasts seemed.
“Not…offended…at all. You’re cute. And no biggie…that truck was going so slow it prolly wouldn’t have hurt you even if I hadn’t opened my big fat mouth. I’m Mira.”
'Hello. Mira…I’m a serial rapist and I’d like to torture you along with and next to an exquisite brunette that I’ve already imprisoned in my basement’ was what the Controller didn’t say. What he did finally get out of his mouth was:
“Ken. Kenneth Myers. Very nice to meet you Mira. Even under such humbling circumstances.”
And the ankle boots she was wearing. Christ Jesus!!
“En. Tee. Em. U. Your work bring you around here Mr. Myers? Or should I call you ‘sir’?”
Nope. He was never going to enslave this treasure. This delight. He’d have to avail himself solely of the worthless brunette whore awaiting his return inside TheP.o.R.T. C’est lavie.
“Yes. Yes Mira. I am working. At least I was. But I should be going. It’s been enchanting making your acquaintance.”
Great legs.
“Shit. And I was just going to tell you Mister Myers that if I didn’t have a boyfriend and if I wasn’t hung up on a girl in my anthropology roundtable that you might stand a chance. Hmmm. More than a chance. Unless of course this has all been an elaborate dance designed just to rape me. Hmmm? Are you going to rape me Kenny?”
The Controller smiled, leaned in close, kissed Mira Beck on the forehead and allowed the fingertips of his left hand to trace the lines of Mira’s exposed cleavage. Under the noon sun amidst the public setting of Taupin Road. The petite blonde being groped didn’t protest a whit. And when the Controller looked down into Mira’s pale blue eyes the coed was already back at chomping at that wad of strawberry-banana.
“Farewell.”
*************
On his way back to his lair the Controller stopped off at Home Depot. He picked up two pair of needle nose pliers…both intended for Tall Brew’s labia and nipples. He never stalked, never saw and never mentioned Mira Beck again.
As Jolene Napoli, a.k.a. Tall Brew, a.k.a. The Whore, writhed in agony and begged for mercy the Controller told himself he was the better man for having passed up the delights that Mira no doubt could have provided within these prison walls. It was either Robert Frost or maybe Kurt Cobain who wrote something about ‘the road less travelled’. He was only 62. Mira was barely 19. No worries. It was enough (thought Kenneth Myers, Esq.) that he came in a distant third behind the blonde’s boyfriend and her lesbian crush.
“Now this is going to hurt. Much more than what we’ve already shared. Good girl. That’s it Jolene. This is all your own fault. Tomorrow you begin learning the privilege and humiliation of being raped anally by me. So there’s no reason to concern yourself with these labia for some time moving forward. Excited? Good girl. What’s that? Yes! Yes of course. I do like it ever so much when you plead for me to stop. It’s entertaining. It’s amusing. That’s the only fucking value you possess in the world whore. Now…right here. Yes…yes…good girl. NICE!”
*************
EPILOGUE - Several months after her chance meeting with the Controller Mira’s friend and lover Heather Lowry was reported missing. It stands to reason that the Controller used the same pliers, the same methods, the same brutality upon Heather’s nude body that he’d long imposed upon Tall Brew’s.
Mira herself entered grad school and enjoyed a successful career editing anthropological texts. A month shy of her thirtieth birthday Mira was raped by a much, much younger man who was obsessed with her body. Police were baffled when video soon surfaced of THAT young man’s mother and two sisters being raped and tortured. One report indicated that the older of the two siblings was flayed alive. The assailants were never identified.
The Controller still thrives. At seventy-three years young he is still at work selecting, procuring and punishing attractive women.
