The drone of the engines was loud, almost drowning out thought. The plane shifted and bucked and shuddered as it hit various pockets of air. How long had they been in the air? Ten minutes? Fifteen? How far had they gone? Where were they taking her? Was that man really going to do all those cruel things to her?

"Oh, God, please! Please! Please! Don't let it be real! Please! Please! Please!" she prayed. And she prayed that somehow God would make the plane fall from the sky. Wouldn't it be better to be dead than to endure what she was going to suffer?

There was darkness all round her. Her mouth was filled with the thick leather prong the men had jammed in there. It was like they were in there, the men, and she knew that they soon would be in truth. They would use her like some kind of animal. The man who now owned her had said so. "You're going to be my fuck bitch!" he had told her, whispering harshly in her ear. "My little fuck doggie! ¡Mi perrita para singar! And all mi amigos too! They'll stick their cocks in your pretty little mouth and make you drink their cum! We're going to have lots of fun!"

"This can't be happening! This can't be happening! This can't be happening!" she thought again madly as she recalled his words. Those, and others too. She pulled frantically at the ties that held her arms helpless. She screamed as loud as she could, hearing only the sound of her muffled voice. She was caged, in an airplane, going to some place horrible, some place like Hell. And there was nothing she could do about it. "If only I could make my body explode!" she thought madly. "I'd do it in an instant! Please! Please! Please! Let me explode! Let me die now, here, before it's too late! Please! Please! Please!"

She heard the sound of a metal door slamming closed. Of course, the men were sitting in the passenger compartment! There were probably drinking and laughing, anticipating what fun they were going to have with the new girls! Especially her owner! It wasn't right! It wasn't fair! They had no right to do this to her! Please! Please! Please! Don't let them! Please!"

She heard some rough, garbled words in Spanish through the drone of the engines. And then a cruel laugh. A second later, she heard the crack of one of those batons the men carried followed instantaneously by an anguished, muffled scream. The laugh came again, another 'crack!' and the scream came again.

Someone, one of the men was out there torturing someone. Carly shook with fear. "Not me! Not me! Not me!" she thought frantically. The voice seemed to come closer, just to her left. The cracking noise sounded again and the woman in the cage next to her released a bloodcurdling, muted scream.

"Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!" she thought. "Please don't let him hurt me! Please! Please! Please!"

She sensed the man right outside her cage. "Please don't! Please! Please! Please!" she prayed. The man said something to her. She heard the baton scrape against the bars and a second later it was jammed up against her ribs. "Please don't! Please! Please!" she tried to scream. The baton nudged her ribs hard. The voice said something that sounded like a taunt. "Please don't!" she screamed.

She had nowhere to go. She tried to scrunch herself up even tighter than she was. Her whole body tensed for the fierce shock she knew the batons threw off. She had suffered it already, back at the Rogues' clubhouse, twice. The baton nudged her hard a few more times. She bit down hard on her gag. Then the man said something and the baton withdrew. She released a whine of gratitude and let her body relax.

A second later, the baton was back and, 'crack!' it spat out a fierce torrent of electricity. It shot through her whole body. It was like she had been stabbed with a poisonous, burning sword.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" she screamed. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The baton spat again, 'crack!' She screamed again, long and loud, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" as her body cramped fiercely.

She heard the man laughing. He said something cruel sounding. And then he was gone. She heard the metal door slammed closed. She burst into tears.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

In the passenger cabin Lorenzo and the boys were comfortable and having a wonderful time. Someone had brought a large thermos filled with ice cold margaritas and several rounds had been poured out. The boys were in high spirits. The new girls would run the gauntlet tonight. Even Mr. Morales had picked out one of the new whores for himself. He intended to see what tricks he could get the comely Mrs. Ramirez to perform for him. He had promised to turn her over to Jack, but Jack wouldn't be in Mexico for a couple of days yet. They would hold the poor woman until her price had reached its maximum, a few months or so down the line. They would send Mr. Ramirez some audio tapes of her begging for redemption and then, later, as time dragged on, videos of her degradation and torment, each one worse than the last. A cool million was not an unreasonable estimate for what they could get for her. They just had to draw the string out long enough and sooner or later, Mr. Ramirez would cough it up.

There was a sad little black haired girl making the rounds. There wasn't really enough room in the cabin to give her a proper fucking, so she was squeezing in between the seats where there was just enough room for the petit slattern to get on her knees and give each of them a little suckle. They called her Pepita, but her real name was Andrea. She was from a little town just outside of San Francisco. She had come over in the last batch of Anglo girls from the Rogues about a month ago. All the boys loved to watch her cry and wail as she was being used. She still hadn't gotten over being turned into a whore. Lorenzo had said that he was getting a little sick of it though and plans were in the works to sell her to a special whorehouse down south where they would really give her something to cry about.

She was working Lorenzo's cock now, her little black haired head bobbing up and down. Lorenzo's fist was locked into her hair and he was controlling her movements, making sure that she gave him the back of her throat on each downward thrust. She was sobbing, as usual, but she had learned well enough that her discomfiture at being used as an abject slut should not interfere with her obligations. She dutifully swirled her rather talented tongue over and around Lorenzo's rigid pole as he traversed her oral cavity and she kept her lips pursed tightly against his shaft as she gave his crank a soft, steady suck.

Just then Lorenzo released a mighty moan and he began bobbing the girl's head with abandon. Her sobbing got louder, but she stayed attuned to her task. Her hands were tied up behind her back, connected by a short chain to the back of her collar and her hands were tightened into cute little fists.

Lorenzo grunted loudly, two, three, four, five times. Pepita coughed and choked as he filled her mouth with his spunk. He jammed her head down hard and held it there for a long time, enjoying the confines of her narrow throat, until his cock's slowly reducing throbs were just a luscious memory. When he released her head, she came up for air, inhaling deeply and coughing and crying. Lorenzo, not a tolerant man by any means, gave her a fierce slap and told her to stop her wailing. This, of course, had the opposite effect. Manuel, Lorenzo's right hand man and companion since childhood, a dark skinned cutthroat with long, black, stringy hair, was sitting where he should be, of course, to Lorenzo's right. He was next.

"There, there, Pepita, don't cry," he told the doll like girl. He took hold of her hair and forced her to rise from her knees. "You still have work to do."

He guided the unhappy, naked, small breasted girl over Lorenzo's thigh and pushed her down between his legs. His cock was already out. Pepita, nee Andrea, looked up piteously at the ferociously miened man with her big brown, tear filled eyes. He took his already blood filled cock in his hand and presented it to her. "Come on, Pepita," he told her roughly, "get to work or you'll get another slap."