Handcuffed In A Slaver Van

Four pretty girls captured in an airplane hijacking are on their way to abject sexual slavery in the Arabian desert, but they’re only just now starting to figure it out:

“Do as you’re told. Get in here.” Seething in frustration and fear Stacie obeyed. Seated on the wooden seat she heeded the injunction of the hostile eyes and placed her left wrist gingerly within the open metal cuff. Rannah snapped the bands tight upon her. “Now the other!”

Stacie throttled her protest. Surely one prisoned wrist made her impotent enough for their need! But she was scared. Resignedly she delivered her right hand into a similar bondage. The clicking of the ratchets as they locked her wrist sounded a death knell to hope. This was neither aid nor deliverance. Miserably she watched her fellow captives similarly rendered helpless. She and the stewardess were locked by both wrists, the other two girls by one wrist only. It sufficed. Salim climbed in with them. Rannah left, the van door closed. “Now for nice ride,” said Salim cheerfully.

The ride was far from nice. It was rough and without concern for the passengers, their prisoned wrists took the brunt of it, chafing against the unyielding metal as they braced themselves against the motion. Salim surveyed their distress benignly like a proud parent.

“Why do I have to have my wrists fastened?” the stewardess demanded of him irritably. “Can’t you unlock one?”

Salim was shocked. “Oh, most bad to unlock. Salim not have key.” He surveyed the situation pensively and came up with a shattering conclusion. “Is now most good, both your hands are fix. Salim can have fine look at tits.”

As nearly as was possible within the van there fell a shocked silence before Stacie broke it angrily. “Leave her alone. You touch us and I’ll report you.”

“This report?” Salim examined the word. “You mean you tell what I do.” He guffawed heartily. “Everybody much laugh, they not care.”

From Chains Of Jedrah by F.E. Campbell (HIT 116).

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