Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as described in the story. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may portray different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain adults at all times.
Writer: Regis
Subject: CHICKS TO CHICKENS 1
Story Codes: Erotic Horror
Chicks To Chickens 1
The raid came so fast that there was no time to react. The entire casino at Monte Carlo was stormed by the machine-gun armed guerillas. Carla guessed there may have been as many as a dozen of them, but with the chaos they created, it was impossible to judge.
At first, she thought it was a robbery, on a grand scale, but the masked men, all Arabic, showed no interest in the cashier’s windows or the counting room. Instead, they lined the patrons up along one wall and then forced all of the gorgeous young women to climb up onto the bar.
It was three A.M. when the peak crowds filled the huge gambling establishments, and this, the most exclusive club of all, was packed to capacity. The machine gun fire had mowed down several employees and guests, an act of sheer terrorism. David had fallen in front of her, his head blown apart as she watched.
A wealthy matronly woman from Germany was also killed right in front of Carla when the woman’s full breasts, both mostly exposed, were blown wide open, spraying pinkish tit meat and blood across the rich green velvet of the card table. Carla had never before witnessed extreme violence, and she started to violently shiver uncontrollably.
The guerilla’s instant power over the patrons was so complete that there was no argument as the young women climbed onto the bar and lined up. The bar was more than fifty feet long, but there were so many that soon the screaming ladies were stacked three deep.
An Arabic woman, also masked and armed with a riding crop appeared, and one by one told women to jump down, until there were less than a hundred women left standing up on the bar. She made them strut one by one along the bar, and the weeding process continued, until she had culled the group of beauties down to thirty.
Clearly she was selecting the young most beautiful young women with the best figures and fullest breasts. In this exclusive gambling establishment that was not an easy task, as all of the females who graced the tables were prime stock, wealthy, beautiful and well educated.
The female guerilla used her riding crop to force the remaining women, five at a time, to step forward, spread their knees, raise their skirts and lower their panties, and display for her their sex organs. They were also forced to reveal their nipples, to prove that their breasts were real. Most of them were.
Carla blanched, but had no choice. These murderous raiders were not to be trifled with. She was in the second group to step forward, and she nearly fainted from embarrassment when she had to bare her pretty cunt for the lady. She, like most of the others, was wearing a low cut dress with an enormous slit up the sides, which was the style.
She revealed her neatly trimmed pussy for the lady, then pulled out a breast, and like the others, was asked to step down off the bar. When she got down she was directed to join a few of the others to the right, where guerillas waited for and guarded them.
When the last of the young ladies had done the requisite performance and had been sorted out, the fifteen young ladies who had been selected in this impromptu meat market were herded toward the kitchen. As the guerillas moved the ladies through the food service and preparation area, they took the opportunity to help themselves to large stainless steel cleavers and carving knives.
They also took huge roasting pans, steel serving trays, and stout skewers capable of holding a whole pig or a large baron of beef. Four of the men even carted out two large wooden butcher blocks, while others kept the kitchen staff at bay with their machine guns. These killers were very businesslike, and not to be trifled with.
A delivery truck was backed up to the spacious rear-loading bay at the rear of the kitchen area. The girls were loaded aboard, along with the guerillas and their additional booty. The truck’s rear doors were closed and locked, and the big vehicle moved away.
It was as if it had just delivered a load of fresh meat. Nobody casually observing the departure of the truck would suspect it was full, and in fact hauling away a load of fresh meat. These people knew what they were doing, and had a dossier on all of the girls it had just collected.
Carla and the others were forced to stand because the truck was so full. While they travelled, their captors crammed a small rubber ball into each girl’s mouth then tied cloth gags around the girl’s heads, effectively preventing them from screaming or calling out. Their wrists were bound behind them, to prevent them from untying their gags.
The trip was mercifully short, lasting less than ten minutes, and ending inside what appeared to be a warehouse. The young ladies were moved off the truck, and directly out a large door onto what proved to be a wharf. It was dark, with all of the lights along their side of the warehouse turned off.
They were moved to the edge of the dock, and their wrists were unbound so that they could climb down a coarse wooden ladder and into rubber dinghies, commonly known as Zodiacs, after the first manufacturer of these durable craft. There were four of the inflatable boats, each mounted with a powerful outboard motor. Tonight the Mediterranean was unusually calm.
When all of them were aboard, including the guerillas and the two large wooden butcher blocks, their wrists were re-tied behind their backs and the rubber boats were paddled quietly out to sea. This was the critical period in their escape, because sound travels well over water.
The guerillas paddled quietly for more than an hour, taking the tiny low-profile rubber zodiac under the sweep of radar. The captive girls watched with dismay as the lights of the beautiful harbor and city gradually receded. Their abduction was going unnervingly well.
At last the motors were started. The small boats moved at idle at first, then they slowly sped up, until they were skimming quickly over the gently rolling surface of the calm sea. Another hour passed, and the sky to the east began to glow in the precursor to dawn, when Carla saw a tramp steamer on the horizon.
In twenty minutes the six rubber zodiacs pulled up alongside the rusty old ship, the captive young ladies’ wrists were once more untied, and the girls were made to climb up a broad rope ladder. This was no easy feat in their evening gowns and stiletto heeled shoes,
The skirts were extremely short on most of the young ladies’ highly revealing dresses, revealing far too much of their shapely thighs, and the encouragement of the machine guns behind them had the select gorgeous young cunts climbing like a team of elite storm troupers.
On deck armed crewmen met the fifteen frightened ladies, and they were escorted down into the ship’s dingy hold. There they were placed in steel cages, and allowed hammocks to rest in for the remainder of the brief voyage. Their gags were removed, which made breathing and moving easier in the heat of the hold.
The heavy hatch cover was firmly in place, but there was enough leakage that Carla could see the passage of the sun, telling her the ship was moving in a southerly direction. Twice it put about, and when finally night fell, she had lost any sense of direction.
Clearly their Arab abductors were aware there was a chance they could be followed, and they were taking every precaution to avoid any detection. It was several hours after darkness had fallen that the women were awakened, and taken out of the steel cage in which they were held.
They were transferred to three large wooden crates, and were packed in like nothing more than farm animals, on their way to market. The young women were once more gagged and their arms were tightly bound behind their backs. They were just getting settled, squatting on large hemp cushions.
They had ridden for hours in the confining crates, when they felt the ship’s motors slow. The engines reversed twice, then there was a rough bump, with the sound of scraping, and the motors stopped. The ship had docked. Carla felt she had to pee, but there was nowhere to do so, and she was so anxious she was not able to pass water.
Within ten minutes the hatch opened, and they heard the sound of a crane and winch lowering a line into the hold. The off-loading was smoother than they thought possible. They could see through the narrow cracks in the crates that the pier was well lighted and not dark, as the one from which they had departed had been.
They could hear but not see the stevedores that were handling the large shipping crates being off-loaded from the ship. Their gags effectively stifled their ability to cry out for help. Carla wondered if the men knew that three of the crates contained live human cargo.
She doubted it. She could not recognize the Arabic dialect she heard, and realized that they could be in any of a dozen ports in three or four different countries in North Africa. Unless they had exited the Mediterranean and had docked on the East Coast of Africa.
Surely they had not been at sea long enough for that, she thought. Four of the many crates were loaded onto a truck, and they immediately set off on a surprisingly short trip. Their crates were opened, and the young women were brought off the truck.
The night heat was overbearing, and their gowns were damp and sticking to them. The girls were also drooling around their gags, and were very uncomfortable. It was a relief to stand up and move their cramped limbs. They were now inside another large warehouse.
Beside the truck was a large bus, onto which they were loaded. Carla was not surprised to see that the windows had been painted black. No one would see them, even if they travelled by daylight, and they could not see out. Four of the guerillas joined them as guards.
They heard the two big butcher blocks being loaded in the luggage space beneath the bus, and Carla had a terrible feeling about how the heavy meat carving tables were going to be used. When the bus started to move, Carla was thankful that it was air-conditioned.
She had not been gagged since she was a freshman student at university being hazed when she joined her sorority. That had been the only other time in her life that she had been forced to display her sex organ, and she had found that doing it had been extremely humiliating.
A panel of young men, a dozen fraternity seniors the girls had assembled, did a “cherry” inspection of the new recruits, to identify any virgins. She had been the only one who still had an intact hymen. The party had devolved into a gang rape of the sorority recruits, and they had saved Carla for last.
The only person in the group who was not a student, the Dean of Residence, had the honor to deflower her in front of all the others. If not for that horrific rape, she would still be intact, and a virgin. It was a pain she would never wish to experience again, having that rigid vile penis thrust into her.
Their guards removed their gags at last and unbound their arms so that the captive girls could drink. They had been traveling for twenty-four hours, and had taken in only water and hard unleavened biscuits. Their only chance to relieve themselves had been in a jam can left for that purpose in their cage on the ship.
They anxiously waited their turn to use the private toilet at the back of the bus. It was rustic by their standards, but was far better than the metal can with the seawater sloshing in it. The fifteen women had quickly exceeded the sanitary limits of that insufficient can, and the remainder pissed on the floor of the little washroom.
The bus trip lasted several hours, and when the big vehicle finally came to a stop, they got off in the desert at what appeared to be an abandoned airstrip.
666
An old DC-3 was warming its engines when they arrived. It was a windowless freighter, with Arabic markings none of the girls recognized. The got aboard, and found there were only small jump seats available. They strapped themselves in, and within minutes the engines roared to life.
Carla was surprised at the thrust generated by the two prop engines, and was pressed back in her seat as the ancient aircraft bumped and bounded across the sand in the pre-dawn. When the plane was airborne, there was not the usual tilt associated with climbing.
Their take-off also lacked the expected increase in cabin pressure. Carla assumed the pilot was flying just above the deck, intent on not being tracked by radar. These people were well organized, and were not likely to be caught, if all their precautions were as thorough as she had seen.
The girls were given a final drink of water, then were gagged and bound again, and this time they were also blindfolded. Carla found this a hopeful sign, because if their captors did not want them to see where they were going, at least it was likely they would be eventually set free.
These terrorists were methodical people, and did nothing that was unnecessary. The secret of their success was that they wasted little time or movement. As the plane droned on, Carla finally fell asleep. She was exhausted from this incredible odyssey of travel.
She no longer had any idea where she was, and realized she would not find out until her captors wished her to know. They were clearly professionals, and nothing had happened that they had not thoroughly planned. She would just have to let them take responsibility for her safety and wellbeing, and get some rest.
There was little she could do but sleep until the next stop in her voyage. She awakened as she felt the sharp prick in her inner thigh, then the familiar feeling of the injection, and seconds later she was out cold. Clearly they needed the captive girls to be out cold for the next part of the trip.
666
Carla felt the coolness she had been enjoying become a chill, and she reached reflexively for her sheet and blanket. There was none. She realized that her arms were numb, and that she had not moved them. She lifted her head, and found herself lying not in her comfortable bed with its satin sheets, but on one of fifteen small straw-filled mattresses laid out on the floor.
She shook her head, feeling as if she had taken too much liquor, and remembered being drugged. Her wrists were bound behind her back, which had caused her arms to go numb. She rolled over onto her side to relieve the numbness, and the movement gradually brought painful life to her arms.
The room was large and bleak, with all fifteen of the girls with whom she had been kidnaped lying stretched out, all of them stark naked as she was. A few of them had awakened; the others were still asleep. The situation she and the others found themselves in had progressed from serious to desperate.
At least her gag and blindfold had been removed. She had no idea what purpose they had served, but she was glad to be rid of them. What was extremely disturbing was that these people had violated her person. They had stripped her nude while she slept, and had moved her into this strange place from the old aircraft that had brought her here, wherever “here” was.
Her best guess was that the ship had docked in Libya, and that the bus had taken them far inland, into the Libyan desert. From there the aircraft could have taken them in any direction. They could be anywhere from Cape Town to The Hague. As far as she knew, they might even be in Moscow.
She reasoned that if the aircraft had landed and refueled while she was out, it could have flown them anywhere from Southern Africa to Northern Europe, although the latter was unlikely. What made those unlikely destinations was that none of them was an Arab city.
There was no doubt her captors were Muslims, and were likely Arabs. Clearly these terrorists had gone to great pains to transport the young women a great distance, at considerable cost. That was necessary, considering the power and influence of her wealthy father, and the fathers of the other girls captured with her.
There was just too much population and security, too many borders and too many radar stations for them to have gone undetected if they had doubled back to Europe. On the other hand, that would have been a smart thing to do, as her Daddy would probably not think of looking too close to home.
Suddenly her train of thought was broken as a door opened at the far end of the room, and several pretty young maids came in. She thought of them as maids because of their uniforms. The eight girls, four European and four Arabs, were all in their late-teens.
Each wore a cute little outfit with a frilly hem that was so high it was totally immodest. In moments she was to see just how immodest these remarkably provocative uniforms were. The bodice lifted their full plump breasts, bulging the tops of the malleable mammaries.
The outfits also pressed their breasts together to make them look as if they were even larger than they were, in the pre-Victorian style. The top of the bodice was cut low enough to allow their erect nipples to peek over the top, and the movement of the tight restraining garment rubbed and kept their pink milk-warts elongated.
Carla guessed the youngest of these girls was perhaps fifteen, and despite their well-developed mammaries they were slender and girlish rather than having the full-blown figures of mature women. The oldest could be no more than twenty, judging by that fact that all of them showed a softness of complexion not found in females more mature.
These pretty young maids wore black net stockings, and it quickly became apparent they wore no panties. Modesty had no place in this setting. When the maids turned, they did so with a sudden little spin that caused their very short skirts to swing out, revealing their nakedness right up to the belt line.
The open fold of their impudent vaginas, revealed with any movement, was plucked clean of hair around the edges and over the groin area, and the delicate petals of their inner organ were painted with a skillfully chosen pink lipstick to add to their visibility. Naked cunt was obviously valued here.
These girls were all quite naughty, purposefully giving everyone present a glimpse of their insufficiently covered genitalia. Carla saw that they had left a neatly trimmed heart-shaped patch of tight dark or thin and fair curls above their pubic mound. Cute.
The lower point of the pubic hair heart touched the flesh hood of their naked clits. She found them to be quite stimulating, even with her personal elevated level of anxiety. The maids were distributing large chromed steel rings to the women lying naked on the beds.
They untied the ropes binding the captive women’s ankles and wrists, and helped them fit the bright polished rings around their necks, snapping the hidden clasps into place, forming a perfect hidden seal, as if these rings were unbroken. Carla wondered how they were possibly to be removed.
Most of the women willingly put them on, knowing how futile it would be to refuse at this point. When the rings were all securely in place, they appeared to be continuous, with no break. The heavy chromed steel rings fit tightly, and looked quite attractive on the slender necks of their wearers.
Because they fit so tightly, the captive women wore them at the narrowest point high on the neck, up under the chin. Only Carla refused to put on one of these confining collars. When she refused, one of the doors burst open, and a pair of stocky large-breasted women, obviously body builders, burst in.
They wore cool cotton shifts with an extremely high hemline that fully revealed their hairless masturbation-engorged vaginas. Both had well-tanned muscular legs, and spike heeled shoes, which made the most of their obvious body building, accentuating the musculature of their powerful but shapely legs.
They grabbed Carla by her arms and held her against the wall while two of the young maids fit her bright chrome collar in place. Carla was powerless in the grasp of the two strong women. She knew she would never have a chance if she chose to fight them.
The women appeared to be Egyptian, as did four of the young maids, but they all spoke fluent French. “These collars are necessary!” one of the women said. “You are going to be presented and evaluated at the market, and you must have your collar on when you are shown.”
She said this as if it was stupid of the captive young women not to know it.
“Shown?” Carla responded defiantly. “Who are you going to show us to? What kind of market? Where are you going to present us?” Her voice moved to a very high pitch with her growing anxiety. The women laughed and left the room, followed by the giggling young maids.
Carla found, as did the others, that her collar was most comfortable when it was slid up tight under her chin, where her neck was narrowest. She had never seen anything like these, but had to admit that they were attractive when worn by naked women of such beauty as this kidnaped gathering.
She also realized that they served as a minimalist kind of uniform, marking the women, as if they were now slaves. That was a frightening thought, but appeared to be well supported by the actions of their captors. Their situation had elevated to totally desperate.
666
The beautiful young women discussed their predicament, and had disturbing conclusions to draw. Several of them thought they were going to be held for ransom, while others believed they were being sold into white slavery. That would explain the tight steel collars, they said.
It sounded from what the two muscular women had said that they would soon find themselves on the auction block. That was the most disturbing and most likely conclusion the girls could think of. Carla could think of nothing worse than being at the disposal of someone she did not know.
It would be worse if it were someone she did know. She had a more disturbing thought. What if she was going to be fucked by her owner or a stranger? That was what she knew usually happened to white slaves. She had read all about it. They used women as nothing but sex objects.
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE