Description
by Candace Smith
Dillon was a slave trainer. He cruised the highways at night in his huge truck, looking for lone women at remote, deserted truck stops, taking them and training them for sale to a cartel running brothels in Mexico. He was good at his job, and it was not long before he came to the attention of Viktor, a very rich Russian who made his money by providing top quality sex slaves. A contract with Viktor seemed very attractive, but when Dillon abducted Tiana, a young college student recently deserted by her boyfriend, he found a true submissive who needed only to have her desires brought to the surface. And he wondered whether he had found what he had always wanted – until it all began to go badly wrong.
Published: 10 / 2010 No. words: 31000
Style: BDSM/Bondage – Content: Moderate – Sex Slavery / Training, Strong BDSM Content, Male Dom – M/F 
“You need help?” his deep voice queried, but he kept his stride, giving the girl the impression that it made no difference to him how she answered.
The girl looked up at him, and then back at the rig with the sign that she could not quite make out, and which she could barely remember passing on the Interstate. She made one more quick study of the heavy stupid jack in her small hands. She was not even sure if there was another part to it. “Yes, please,” she blurted in relief. Not wanting to sound totally ill prepared, she smiled shyly at the handsome trucker, and said, “I have road service, but I can’t get a signal on my cell phone out here.”
She held out the jack and Dillon took it from her. He tossed it onto the pavement by the driver’s door where it landed with a solid thud. “That’s why I use rest areas, sweetheart.”
The girl’s eyes widened, and Dillon covered her opening mouth with his gloved hand. This had been a painful lesson he had learned after the second abduction, when the young woman he had been capturing had bitten into his palm. Dillon had to quickly knot his kerchief around the wound before any blood could drip. His identity would be discovered from the DNA that was on file from the time he had worked at the prison.
Dillon pulled the girl back against his broad chest while he took the silver tape out of his pocket and began wrapping it around her head. He pushed her into the back of the car and used one hand on her shoulder blades to fold her over. They always reached behind themselves first, before trying to rip the tape off their mouths or push up from the trunk floor. It was something that made no sense to him, but it made it easier to snag at least one wrist and tape it, until he could grab the other one.
The girl was screaming and sobbing behind the gag, furiously shaking her head and trying to buck up out of the trunk to face him. Duct tape loosened with water, but Dillon always wrapped it around their head three times to make sure that it held. This one was a fighter, and she kicked backwards in frightened rage. Dillon barely felt the pressure of her sneaker against the top of his boot. With her hands secured behind her back, he lifted her hips and pushed her deeper into the boxes she had stashed with supplies to bring back to school. Her mind stalled… shocked into terrified panic as she wondered if the man meant to lock her into the trunk… and the temporary halt to her kicking made it easy for Dillon to roll down her socks and tape her ankles together.
He grabbed the back of her tee-shirt and pulled her up. By the time Dillon turned her, the fearful crying eyes were losing their angry rage and had begun pleading with him. He hoisted her over his shoulder and walked towards the driver’s door. After reaching into the car for her purse to grab her wallet, he noted that her cell phone was resting in the cup holder. Dillon was careful not to take them, and he would have checked the pockets in those too short, too tight cutoffs if he had not found it. He scanned the area one more time, and then carried his prey back to the semi.
Dillon tossed her into the sleeper behind the seats, and she felt herself sink down into the soft mattress. The flannel covered pad enveloped her body, and it forced her to turn her head so that she could breathe. The shuddering, frightened sobs made Dillon’s cock itch to be inside her, but he never varied his method, and he pulled her ankles towards her wrists to tape them together behind her back. He would alter her traveling position when he stopped at the next rest stop, because he knew that too much time spent in one location increased the chance of another weary, piss-filled traveler pulling into the secluded area and remembering him or his rig.
Dillon liked games, and he was better at devising strategy than anyone he knew… especially the police, who had no information after two years and nine abductions. They never would catch him, because once Dillon trained his victims, he took a paying load of slaughter horses down to Mexico with an obedient slave drugged and sleeping under the mattress in the cab. Vehicles were checked more thoroughly coming into the States… not crossing the border south to leave..
