Tai Anne Roper 2
by Nicole Sutter
FOR MATURE READERS ONLY
Chapter 6 - "Ties That Bind"
Drew Thrasher finally deplaned at Newark's Liberty International Airport at a quarter after four in the morning.
She smiled as she saw a young Asian man in a chauffeur's cap and a nice suit holding a hand lettered sign that said D. THRASHER in block letters.
"I'm Drew Thrasher," she said.
He smiled at her. He was handsome, in his mid twenties or so, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. "Of course, Ma'am! I recognize you from your newscasts. I'm DeForrest Vice, your driver. I was hired by BBC America to take you to the Trump Tower Hotel in Manhattan. Do we need to get your luggage from the carrousel?"
"No, I travel light." She indicated the kit bag over her shoulder.
"Allow me, Ma'am!" He took her bag from her and walked with her down the long, nearly empty corridor to the main terminal building.
Drew was too tired to even make small talk, she just followed him out to the sidewalk where his black, '02 Lincoln Continental stretch limo was parked. She fell into the back and stretched out on the plush leather seats while he put her bag in the trunk.
Fifteen minutes later the limo was speeding east along the Pulaski Skyway, towards the still radiant Manhattan skyline.
The driver looked back in his rearview mirror, through the sealed and tinted glass that separated the passenger section. Drew Thrasher was already asleep and snoring softly.
The driver doubted he had really needed the cannister of sleeping agent that had silently flooded the passenger compartment. He probably could have taken her all the way to his lair deep in the Jersey Pine Barrens without waking her up at all. But why take chances? That's what being a professional was all about.
He took the next interchange onto I-95 southbound. A short two hour drive fron now, and international anchorbabe Drew Thrasher would be his to do with as he pleased.
Meanwhile, deep in her drug induced slumber, Drew Thrasher dreamed of Tai Anne Roper.
***
New York's Chinatown is both the oldest and largest chinatown in the US, and exists almost as a separate entity within lower Manhattan.
Here, secret societies known as tongs still enforce their arcane laws and set the rules for the more than 80,000 people who live and work within its boundaries.
The corner of Mott and Pell streets is as Chinatown as you can get, with wall to wall restaurants, gift shops and foodstores running off in all four directions, with ancient brick buildings and colorful street signs hemmed in by skyscrapers to the south and east, and the gentrified Tribeca district to the west.
One such restaurant at 21 Mott had once had a huge, glowing neon sign proclaiming the DYNASTY CHINESE BUFFET. But the kids from the local street gangs got great delight out of constantly throwing bricks at the first two letters of the sign, until the owner finally said to hell with it and left it as is. Now his restaurant was now known far and wide as the NASTY CHINESE BUFFET.
Ana Puma steered the stolen PT Cruiser into the alleyway behind the restaurant.
She parked her ride and got out. Una Puma yawned and got out too, joining her by the rear gate.
The long night was slowly burning away. Here in the pre-dawn stillness, trucks were unloading crates of food and merchandise to the shops up and down the street, while the young men doing the work spoke to each other in a mix of both Cantonese and Mandarin dialects. Most of them were FOB... Fresh Off the Boat.
Ana nudged Una, and together they hefted out their two leather duffle bags. One seemed to be wiggling about with a life of its own.
They unlocked a basement door to the restaurant and together they went down a long flight of rickity stairs.
Soon, Sue Kaminsky knew what a butterfly felt like as it slowly left its coccoon. She was pulled from the duffle bag, and most of the shiny black tape was cut away by strong, yet feminine hands, until only her wrists, elbows and ankles were still bound.
She blinked furiously as her blindfold was removed, and worked her jaws as the tape was removed from her lower face and the rubber ball was pulled from her mouth.
She found herself in a large, windowless room of old brick cobblestones, illuminated by a single, bare lightbulb. There was a large bed with rumpled, red silk sheets in one corner, a cache of automatic weapons in another corner, and a combination of sextoys and more weapons hanging from the walls.
Sue also spotted the remains of old, shallow brick vats on the other side of the room. They were once used years and years ago to soak soybeans, wheat and sea salt in water, so they could ferment and make soy sauce.
Sue knew know she was somewhere in Chinatown.
"Detective 2nd Grade Susan S. Kaminsky," Ana Puma said, reading her department ID. "What does the S stand for?"
"Shit-outta-luck!" Una replied. Both sisters got a big cackling laugh out of that one.
"What're you two bitches gonna do with me?" Sue growled, pulling at her bound wrists and elbows to no avail.
"Well, we aren't gonna to just give you away... and you're much too valuable to kill," Una said. "So until your... fair market value is decided, you can just hang loose with Ana and me!"
"Fuck that, and fuck you."
Una snatched Sue up by her red hair. "Ohhhh... I do so love a snotty bitch! They break soooooo easily!"
Sue spit in her face. Una slapped her to the brick floor hard enough to make her ears ring.
"Enough chit chat," Ana said, pulling her latex top off, her breasts were huge, ripe cones with no sag, and almost seemed as bouncy as a set of soccer balls. Her nipples were huge and erect. "Lets have some f-u-n!"
"Wait! No!" Sue yelped as Una produced a hawk-billed folding knife and quickly sliced off her jogbra and panties. "Please, don't!"
"Hmmm... I see the collar and cuffs match," Ana observed. "A true red head!"
Sue was yanked down onto her knees before the Puma sisters, naked and bound hand and foot with legs spread.
"Please... I'm no dyke, okay?" Sue said quietly. "I got no... desires, for other women..."
"Yet." Una smirked. She used the hawk-bill to slice through the tape holding Sue's wrists and elbows together. Before Sue could even wiggle her fingers, Ana twisted her arms up behind her back, crossing her wrists high and almost between her shoulder blades.
"Girl lovin' is the best," Una said, holding Sue's wrists while Ana expertly corded her wrists, then her shoulders and elbows until her arms were a painful memory lashed behind her back. "You'll see!"
"Red, there are two kinds of women in this world," Ana said as Una pulled off her latex top, revealing breasts every bit as magnificent as her sister's. "Those who know they're lesbians... and those who don't know they're lesbians."
The Puma sisters began working on each other's leather corset, pulling at the stays and buckles.
Sue gritted her teeth and pulled at her newly roped arms and wrists to no avail.
"We leaving our boots on again?" Una asked.
"Hell, yes!"
"Okaaaaaaay..."
"But I'll make a deal with you," Ana continued to Sue. "And as Una will tell ya, I always keep my word..."
"Ha! As if..."
"Shaddup, cunt!"
"Cooze!"
"Whore!" Ana sighed. "Anyway, heres the dealio... if you don't orgasm at least... um..."
"Five times," Una said.
"Okay, five times, with us during this little session," Ana said. "We will cut you loose. Let you go free. Whatever! Is it a deal?"
Sue Kaminsky swallowed. She thought these two loons were a couple of cop-killing, homicidal maniacs... which meant they just might be crazy enough to be on the level.
"Yeah... it's a deal."
The Pumas jumped up and down and clapped their hands, high fiving each other. They dragged Sue up to her feet and tossed her high into the air to land in the center of their huge bed. Then the sisters dived in after her, boots and all.
***
The docks of Jersey City were rich in the lore of the gangster. From Dutch Schultz in the thirties to Jimmy Hoffa in the sixties to Tony Soprano on HBO.
The truth --as was usually the case-- lay somewhere in-between. Sure there was corruption, smuggling, theft and chicanery on the docks, but hardly more so than any other facet of American business, and unlike an Enron or MCI, at least the criminals who ran the docks didn't just take all the money and run.
Kenny Bok Choi was one such criminal. He ran BokChoi Import/Exports in Jersey City, where everyday, his freighters would arrive from South Korea and drop off hundreds of trailer sized, Universal Cargo Carriers for further shipment by either rail or truck to anywhere on the eastern seaboard.
To the rest of world, he was just another successful, Korean-American businessman with a loving wife and three kids in ivy league colleges.
Kenny Bok Choi was also a slaver. Every so often, one of his ships arrived with a cargo carrier full of women. They were mostly North Korean, and all were quite young and pretty. Most had even come willingly, preferring to be sex slaves in America rather than starving refugees in their homeland.
Choi was a man in his fifties, but still tough and virile. He took pride in the fact that he could 'sample the wares' all night long and still come home to his wife and pleasure her before going to sleep.
This had been one such a night. Kenny Bok Choi left his private offices with two of his young, Korean goons just before dawn. Choi was well-dressed in a tailored suit and overcoat, while his goons wore cheap black suits and ties
They waited impatiently until his long, white Cadillac stretch limo pulled up.
The Caddie was his security blanket, with bulletproof glass inside and out, steel reinforced panels everywhere and solid rubber tires. Choi got in the back with one goon, while the other goon rode shotgun with the driver.
The driver was an older Korean man who had driven for Choi for almost twenty years. Not once in all that time had Choi or one of his goons ever spoken to him. He wore a peaked chauffeur's cap and a suit and tie.
The limo took off, heading out of the BokChoi Compound and down the long, empty streets of warehouses and closed factories.
The goon riding shotgun up front lit a cigarette.
"Excuse me?"
The goon looked at the driver.
"Please to open window?" the driver asked in English. "Smoke very bad for me!"
"Old fart!" the goon snorted. But he did activate the power window at his side and let in the cool, night air. The goon took another deep drag and turned his head to blow the smoke outside the car.
While he had his head turned, the driver shot him in the base of the skull with a small, silencered Detonics .45 automatic pistol loaded with hi-velocity Glaser safety slugs. The single round took the goon's head off at the shoulders.
Choi missed the show entirely, but his goon sitting back there with him didn't. With a shout, the goon drew his own 9mm Daewoo pistol and fired three shots at the back of the head of the driver.
The gunshots were incredibly loud inside the limo. The slugs spiderwebbed off the bulletproof glass separating the driver from the passenger compartment and ricocheted about the tight confines of the rear compartment. One round caught Choi in the shoulder and he screamed.
The driver just kept... driving, as the young, Korean goon went nuts, pounding at the glass, trying to open the doors or even roll down the windows, but nothing was working. They were trapped.
Finally the goon fired into the side window, hoping to spiderweb the glass enough to break it. On the fourth shot, his own bullet ricocheted and smacked into his forehead, killing him instantly.
Choi pulled himself up from the floorboards, where he had taken cover. He was still being driven. Somewhere. He took the pistol out of the hands of his dead goon, and held on tight to it.
"Who are you?! What do you want?!" He shouted at the driver.
A familar voice came over the intercom. "Hullo, Mr. Choi."
Choi's eyes widened and he felt real fear for the first time. "Morrigan?"
"Afraid so." He couldn't tell for sure if the voice was coming from the driver, who still appeared to be an elderly Korean man.
Choi pulled himself into one of the comfy leather seats and managed to get a chilled bottle of Absolut Vodka from the wetbar. He took several deep swallows. The bullet wound in his left shoulder seemed to throb a little less.
"You... can't kill me just because I didn't make it to a goddamned meeting!" Choi shouted.
"Well, it was mandatory, boyo. But, no. I'll be doin' this for an entirely different reason altogether."
"What, for God's sake?" Choi asked, even though he already knew.
"Several weeks ago, y'found out that one of your freighters headed for New York from Korea, would be searched by US Customs upon landing," Morrigan said. "Y'got nervous, an' tole the Captain t' drop a certain cargo carrier into the Atlantic Ocean... that carrier contained 42 young Korean women."
"No!" Choi shouted. "It just had contraband goods! I swear!"
"I know the truth, Mr. Choi," Morrigan said as the limo made a turn and drove down a long, deserted dock. "Just as ye knew the rules when ye joined our little consortium of slavers."
"No! You can't do this!"
"Rule Three: 'Members are not allowed to willfully kill, maim or wound their abductees, and are in fact liable to The Consortium for their well being, as long as they are in their custody.'"
"I had no choice!"
"You could've off-loaded the women t' another one of your ships, or even put them off at a Consortium port in the Carribian... but you didn't," Morrigan said.
"I... panicked!"
"You looked at the profit margin, boyo," Morrigan said, stopping the limo and shifting to neutral. "Y'simply decided it would be cheaper to drop those lowly cunts off the boat, then delaying the rest of that shipment."
"You can't do this to me!" Choi screamed as the driver exited the Cadillac and slammed the door. Choi saw that the limo was parked facing a long, deserted pier. A purple haze was brightening over the tall spires of Manhattan, while the dark waters of the Hudson River seemed to beckon.
"Goodbye, Mr. Choi," Morrigan said.
"Wait!" Choi shouted. "I have something for you! Something you want!"
The driver seemed to pause.
"Yes! Yes I know something! I know that the great Valerie Corder is in bed with a mob bitch named Lucrezia Scagnetti!" Choi shouted. "I know cuz I introduced them to each other! Now each is doing the other's dirty work! One hand washing the other's clean of blood!!!"
The purple haze over Manhattan shifted as sunlight began to filter through the skyscrapers. Dawn.
"I have proof! Just... just take me back to my business, and we'll forget all this has happened... Please, Morrigan! Have mercy!!!"
The driver turned, and Kenny Bok Choi gasped as the old Korean man ripped off his face to reveal Morrigan the Huntress.
"Aye," she rasped. "Like you had mercy for those 42 women."
She eased into the open driver's side window and jammed a short length of pipe against the accelerator and into the seat cushion. As the engine raced madly, she stepped back and popped the gear shift on the steering column back to drive.
The big white Caddie lurched forward and picked up speed fast as it raced straight down the long, empty pier.
Kenny Bok Choi screamed as he saw the dark waters of the Hudson racing towards him.
The Cadillac flew off the end of the pier and actually made it about fifty feet out into the river before it's big splashdown.The limo bobbed about for a few seconds before sinking fast into the river.
Morrigan peeled the rest of the latex skinmask off her face as she let the newly risen sun warm her bones. Then she walked slowly back to the dock, where a black Porsche 911S targa roadster was waiting for her with the engine running.
Morrigan got into the passenger side bucket seat, where it was nice and warm and black leather comfy, and something classical was playing on the car's excellent sound system.
"How'd it go?" The driver, Ms. Hooks asked.
"As well as could be expected," Morrigan replied, loosening her tie. "One should always make sure y'can trust the person who's drivin' ye about town... aye!"
"Indeed," Ms. Hooks replied as she shifted gears and steered the Porsche off. She was a pretty woman in her late thirties, with long, dark hair and who spoke with an upper class Brit accent. She had lost both arms at the elbows and wore prosthetic limbs and modular steel hooks for hands. She wore a stylish, long sleeved black turtleneck sweater, black leather skirt and boots.
A few minutes later the Porsche was on the Jersey Turnpike heading for the Holland Tunnel.
"Feel like breakfast?" Ms. Hooks asked.
"I feel like sleepin' for a week!" Morrigan replied as she picked up the car's cellphone and punched in a number. It was a secure line. "But a spot of tea would hit the spot too, darlin'."
Her attention turned back to the phone as someone picked up on the fourth ring.
"Christ, you're up early." It was Wendy the Infobabe.
"Actually I haven't hit the hay yet," Morrigan replied. "Could you do me a fave and check out a few things for me?"
"That's why I exist."
"Find out everything you can about a Lucrezia Scagnetti, and any connections with the Corder Corporation."
"Got it, anything else?"
Morrigan thought about The Consortium meeting held earlier, and what had happened in San Francisco over the weekend.
"Yeah... check out a Jessica McClintock, try to find out why a lot of very rich people wanted her so badly, and find out who has her now."
"Right-o," Wendy replied. "Hey, did you finally have it out with Kenny Bok Choi?"
"Hmmm? Oh yes." Morrigan smiled. "He ended up taking a long drive off a short pier..."
***
The first orgasm was a surprise, ripped out of Sue Kaminsky's soul while Ana and Una Puma had her sandwiched between them, licking and groping her with abandon.
The second orgasm was heaven, and caused Sue to cry out as Ana fucked her with a two headed rubber dildo while Una sat on her face.
The third orgasm was earthshattering, and caused Sue to scream as Una found her erect clit with her tongue and nibbled at it while Ana sucked her nipples til Sue thought they would pop.
The fourth orgasm was fire and ice, too much too soon. Sue wept into Ana's breasts as Una brought her off once more.
The fifth orgasm caused Sue to cut loose with a strangled scream as the Pumas held on tight to her. She convulsed and fell unconscious into their strong arms.
***
"Wake up, Red," And husked. "We're just getting started."
Sue groaned and opened her eyes to see billowly, white clouds of almost luminescent smoke about her.
Ana took a deep drag on an ancient looking Chinese opium pipe of jade and teakwood. She blew the white smoke into Sue's face.
Sue's hands were still cruelly bound behind her, she was naked and sweating, her insides still raw from the forced orgasms. She was lying on the bed again, sandwiched between the Puma Sisters who were all tanned curves and evil black leather, holding her down.
She cried as the smoke drifted over her. Una had another ornate opium pipe as well and would gently kiss Sue as she held Sue's nose and forced the smoke into her.
Sue hated cigarette smoke, and could't even stand to be around marijuana smoke. But this was different. This smoke was like cotton candy, drifting across her senses. It filled her lungs and her body until she felt like she drifting away...
"Kiss me, Red," Ana Puma rasped. Sue groaned and kissed her long and deep. Then turned and sucked on the tongue of a pouting Una Puma.
All the pain and the raw edges seemed to drift off with the heavenly smoke. Everything was soft and lovely now...
Sue found herself flowing like a river into a sea of ethereal pleasures...
***
"Be a good girl, Red..."
Sue groaned as her neck and her just freed hands were placed by the Puma Sisters within the hollowed confines of a heavy wooden pillory. A Chinese cangue.
The top half was locked in place, and Sue could only pull at her wrists and twist her head about. It was like the rest of her body had suddenly ceased to exist.
Unlike American or European pillorys, the cangue is not attached to anything. But the wood was old and heavy. Sue Kaminsky kealt on the brick floor, her long red hair in her face as she felt the Pumas... doing things to her body.
"Noooooooooooo..." Sue wailed.
She got a hard spanking for that, as other busy hands strapped a leather belt around her middle, and ran another belt up between her legs and bottomcheeks.
Sue squealed as she became aware of a large wooden prong that was attached to that belt. As the belt tightened, the prong slipped up deep inside of her.
She felt the bite of heavy iron shackles being locked on her ankles, and when the Puma Sisters made her walk, she could barely take one snubbed step at a time.
Sue wept like a child, the discipline and toughness that she had been so proud of as a cop, now seemed like a distant memory.
The Puma Sisters led their prisoner deeper and deeper into the tunnels and crumbling brick masonry of Chinatown.
"This is a holy place, Red," Ana said. "Here, kidnapped white women from good, Christian families were first brought here in the 1840's..."
"They were trained as concubines, to fill the brothels of the Far East," Una said. "Shanghai... Macau... Bangkok..."
Sue bit her lip and started to pant, each short step she took rubbed the wooden prong a little deeper into her cunt. She was already dripping girljuice down her legs.
"The practice continued through the roaring twenties, when the tongs finally closed the slave trade down," Ana said. "Its a shame really. If these walls could talk, what would they say about the thousands of lost women who passed through here?"
Sue realized the Pumas were just as high as she was from whatever had been in that mysterious, magical white smoke.
They stopped at what appeared to be an underground grotto. A wide, deep pool of black water lit by torchlight.
Without further ado, the Pumas pushed Sue into the pool. She went in with a splash, and came bobbing to the surface, sputtering and squawling.
The wooden cangue was like a raft that held her head above the water, which tasted brakish and very salty. She realized she was in one of the pools used at one time to ferment soybeans into soy sauce.
"At one time, many girls would be kept where you are right now," Ana's voice seemed to float over her. "A dozen or so girls. Imprisoned in their cangues... drifting together in these black waters..."
The black waters she spoke of settled around Sue. She coundn't touch bottom, and the shackles on her ankles kept her from splashing about. The torchlight caused shadows to play over the brick walls.
Sue looked around wildly. The Puma Sisters were gone.
"Don't leave me!" Sue screamed. Her voice echoed hollowly off the old brick. "Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaze..."
She sobbed as she drifted in the black nothingness. Her life. Her job. Everything she had ever stood for or believed in now seemed like it was a million miles away. If it had ever existed at all.
Sue Kaminsky now knew exactly how the lost women imprisoned here a century or more ago had felt. She was now one of them.
***