“I think I will get some tea,” said
Melissa rising from her seat in the first class
coach.
“Why don’t I just ring for the porter?” asked Larra reaching
for the bell.
“No, I need to stretch my legs.
I’m getting bored watching
scenery.”
“Fine,” replied Larra.
“I’ll just stay here and
read.” She picked up her
book, a thick tome on Canadian
geography.
“I’ll be back in a little while,” Melissa said pulling the
door open.
“Alright, knock three times and I’ll let you
in.”
Larra wasn’t taking any chances.
This mission was too important for
that. They were traveling first
class and Larra had booked two private
compartments. One for herself
and Melissa and one for Sawatis and the other guide he had chosen, Jean Lemaire.
Unfortunately the compartments were not in the same
car. The exigencies of wartime
had made it less convenient to travel and so she had taken what was
available. If the war did not
go well, travel was likely to become even more
difficult.
She looked out the window. The
endless Canadian landscape rolled by.
For the first day or so of travel, Larra had found it quite interesting,
but after several hundred miles of looking at trees, she had picked up her
book. It wouldn’t hurt to
learn all she could about where she was going.
Two taps sounded at the door. Larra
frowned. She had told Melissa
three taps. She would have to
impress upon the girl the importance of following instructions.
She got up and opened the
door.
“Aaahhh!”
Larra’s eyes felt like
they were on fire. She couldn’t
breathe. Her lungs
burned. Her eyes streaming with
tears, she staggered away from the door.
She had no way of avoiding the large fist that came at her
head.
The blow knocked her across the
compartment. Dazed, she tried
to get up and defend herself, only to receive a second blow to her
midriff. Blinded and gasping
for air, she was unprepared for the punch and it knocked the air out of
her.
“Grab her arms,” called out a man’s
voice. Larra opened her mouth
to scream, but no sound came, and then something, she guessed a handkerchief,
was stuffed into it.
Struggling wildly, she felt her arms being pinned behind her
back. Someone grabbed the long
braid she usually wore when on a mission, and jerked her head
back. From the feel of the hands
on her body, she judged that there were at least two men in the
compartment.
“I’ve got her now,” the man’s voice said, as Larra felt
her wrists being secured. During
the struggle her dress had been pushed up over her
knees. Now she felt a hand groping
between her thighs.
“Leave that, idiot,” said the
voice. “We’ve got to
get her out of here.” By
Now Larra’s ankles were bound as
well. She was completely
helpless. Her eyes and lungs
still burned from whatever had been thrown into her face when she had stupidly
opened the door. She guessed
that it was probably cayenne pepper.
“Corridor’s clear,” said the
voice. “Let’s get her
moved, before her girlfriend comes back.”
Unable to resist, Larra felt herself being picked up and tossed across one
of the men’s shoulders like a sack of
potatoes. She was not carried
far. Apparently, her abductors
had a compartment close by.
Probably in the same car.
She was dumped unceremoniously on the seat of the
compartment.
By now, the tears streaming from her eyes had cleared some of the cayenne
from them. She was able to see
a little. There were two men
as she had guessed. Both quite
massively built.
"Make sure that gag is tight," said one of the
men. He sported a small neat
mustache and had sandy hair. "She's
probably going to squeal a bit when we start questioning
her."
"Right," said the other man. He
was dark-haired and clean-shaven, but sported a dark five o'clock
shadow. He moved behind her and
tightened the gag.
The other man made sure that her legs were tied tight, adding a loop of rope
just above her knees and tying her thighs
tight. Clean-shaven moved beside
her, his eyes sweeping over her body.
"Man, we got a real catch here."
He squeezed his hand between her silken
thighs. "Seems like a waste of
time just to ask her a few questions."
"Control yourself," said Mustache.
"The boss wants information.
Maybe we can play with her later."
But Clean-shaven already had his fingers pressing against Larra's vulva,
pushing his fingers into the soft folds of her
labia. Only Larra's black lace
panties prevented his fingers from penetrating
her.
Larra fought to break free, squirming at the
intrusion. "God," she thought,
"how do I get myself into these
situations? All I had to do was
pay attention to my own instructions.
Should have known that Melissa would remember the
code."
"Ha!" exclaimed Clean-shaven. "I
think she likes it."
"Leave her, I said. Let's get
on with this. It is only a matter
of time before someone notices she is
missing."
"Alright, but I'm gonna do a little exploring after we've found out what
we want to know."
Mustache ripped open Larra's silk blouse, revealing her bra-covered
breasts. "Geez," exclaimed
Clean-shaven, "what a set of melons!"
"Then you're probably going to like this part," said
Mustache. He snapped Larra's
bra, allowing her large pink-nippled breasts to bounce
free.
There was a moment of silence as both men took in the impressive
sight. Mustache finally broke
the stillness. "Got the clamps?"
he asked.
"Right here," answered Clean-shaven.
He pulled a large ring clamp from out of his coat
pocket. Larra recognized it as
a device that was usually used to clamp two large diameter pipes
together. With a flash of
understanding she suddenly realized its
purpose. Wrenching her body,
she almost broke free of Mustache's grasp, but it was a hopeless
reaction. With her arms and legs
bound, there was no way she could escape.
Her only hope was that her struggles might delay the brutal torture
that the two men had planned for her.
Mustache wrapped his arm around her neck, holding her in a headlock and pulling
her back onto the seat between his legs.
Clean-shaven straddled her thighs, using his legs to hold her in
place. Then he slipped the clamp
over her left breast. It was
an almost perfect fit, forming a ring of steel around the trembling
globe. Then placing his hand
against the middle of her chest, he held her as still as he could, while
using his other hand to tighten the
clamp.
Larra fought like a wildcat as the clamp tightened about her breast, but
Mustache kept a tight hold on her, bending her head forward in a
hammerlock. Slowly the ring of
steel cut into her trembling flesh, causing her breast to bulge out like
an over-inflated balloon. The
swollen globe turned bright red as the blood flow within it was
constricted. Larra began to make
strange noises beneath her gag.
“Alright, now to the questioning,” said
Clean-shaven. Then his face creased
in a frown. “I just thought
of something. How we gonna question
her with the gag in her
mouth.”
“We’ll have to take it out,” suggested
Mustache. Then he
frowned. “But if I do that
she’ll scream bloody murder.”
Clean-shaven looked at the writhing
adventuress. “Maybe we should
just have some fun with her and leave the questioning until
later.”
“Those weren’t the orders,” grunted Mustache, struggling to
keep hold of Larra’s heaving body.
“Christ, she bucks like a
horse.” He thought for a
second. “Maybe you’re
right. We could ride her a little
and get her to calm down.”
“Now you’re talking,” agreed Clean-shaven
enthusiastically. “But
let’s just make sure that she doesn’t get too
bouncy.” As he spoke, he
bent Larra’s knees and hog-tied her ankles to her
wrists. Only then did he remove
the ropes holding her thighs.
Larra moaned in pain. The metal
band constricting the blood flow in her left breast hurt about as badly as
anything that had ever been done to her.
The swollen gland was beet-red and the nipple on top was inflamed
and ultra-sensitive. She groaned
again, as Clean-shaven squeezed it between his thumb and
forefinger.
To make matters worse, Mustache was now spreading her legs, and had his hand
inside her lace panties. Already
one of his meaty fingers was probing her tight
cleft.
“Christ,” Mustache swore, “if I didn’t know better I
swear this bitch was a virgin.”
He pushed his finger deeper, delighting in the tight fit of Larra’s
love tunnel. “Damn,”
he muttered, “this is gonna be some
fun.”
Tap
Tap!
Both men jerked their
heads toward the door. “What
the hell,” exclaimed Mustache.
“Tickets!” called out a male voice.
Mustache looked perplexed.
“Didn’t you give the tickets to the conductor just outside
of
“Sure did,” answered Clean-shaven.
Mustache took out a knife and held it to Larra’s
throat. “Cut out that
whimpering,” he ordered.
“You give us away and I’m gonna give you a new
mouth.”
Larra quieted, although the pain was almost driving her
mad. Mustache nodded to
Clean-shaven. “Open the
door a crack and see what he wants.
Show him the ticket stubs.”
Clean-shaven went to the door and unlocked
it. Placing his foot against
if to prevent sudden entry he edged it open an
inch.
“Aaahh!”
Clean-shaven staggered back
from the door, his hands clawing at his
eyes. An acrid smell filled the
air. Then with a crash the door
burst open.
Mustache reached into his jacket, reaching for his
gun. But a stinging jet of foam
hit him right in the face. With
a shout of pain, he too clutched at his
eyes. Then two large men crashed
into the room. One grabbed Mustache
and swung his body like a sack of potatoes, bouncing him off the wall of
the compartment. The other hurtled
into Clean-shaven, and drove his fist several times into his
face. Both thugs slumped to the
floor unconscious.
“Don’t you dare look!” shouted Melissa as she followed Sawatis
and Lemaire into the compartment and interposed herself between Larra and
the two men. She was referring,
of course to Larra’s charms, which were fully
revealed. “Just deal with
those two. I’ll look after
“Ooh, that must have hurt,” said the girl, as she released the
pressure on the clamp holding Larra’s breast.
Then realizing that Larra could
not answer, she untied the strip of cloth and pulled the gag out of her
mouth.
Larra gasped for breath. The
gag had made it very difficult to breathe, and her exertions when threatened
first with torture, and then with rape had left her so short of breath that
she was close to fainting. Melissa
pulled her blouse closed and then untied her hands and
feet.
“Thank you,” gasped Larra.
She rearranged her skirt so that her shapely thighs were once again
covered and buttoned her blouse. By
this time, Sawatis and Lemaire had Mustache and Clean-shaven trussed up and
gagged. The two men groaned as
they started to regain consciousness.
Larra rubbed her wrists and ankles.
She would have liked to rub her left breast as well, but decided to
leave it until she had a little more
privacy. It still hurt like
Hell.
“You OK, Larra?” asked Sawatis.
Lemaire too looked at her with some concern, now that Melissa was
not guarding her like a mother hen.
“Yes, I’m fine. Or
at least I will be in a little while.
Thank you for saving me.”
“Oh, it was nothing. It
was Melissa’s idea to use the fire
extinguisher. Worked pretty well
too. Me and Jean just added some
muscle.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
Larra looked at Melissa
appraisingly. The girl
blushed. “Thank you Melissa,
that was quick thinking.”
“I…I just wish I’d found you
faster. Before those two
men…”
“Never mind,” said Larra.
“You found me in time.
How did you know where I was
anyway?”
“Process of elimination. I
just asked the porter who was in each compartment and eliminated those who
seemed unlikely to have kidnapped you.
This compartment was the only one that had two large men who kept
to themselves, and the only one whose door was
locked. I tried the handle before
I knocked. I guess the two men
were so busy that they didn’t hear me rattle the
handle.”
“Yes,” said Larra wincing a little at the pain in her
breast. “They were
busy.” She turned to look
at the two trussed up thugs.
“Let’s see if we can find out why they were so interested
in me.”
Sawatis and Lemaire grabbed hold of Mustache and hauled him onto the
seat. Larra stood directly in
front of the groggy man and slapped him
awake. The thug opened his
eyes. Larra slapped him again,
the force of the blow snapping the man’s head viciously to one
side.
“We weren’t properly introduced,” Larra
said. “You seem to know
who I am. What is your
name?”
Mustache licked his lips, blood coming from a cut inside his
mouth. By way of answer, he merely
sneered and shrugged.
Larra nodded. “It seems
our friend is reluctant to speak.
Sawatis, open the window and let in some
air.”
Somewhat bemused, Sawatis pulled the window
down. The chill October air blew
harshly into the compartment.
“Melissa,” said Larra, “put a gag in his
mouth. I don’t want him
shouting when he is thrown out of the
train.”
Mustache sneered again. “You
bitch. You ain't got the guts
to toss me off.”
“Not right away,” replied
Larra. “Sawatis, tell me
when one of those trestles comes up
again. I want the water to break
his fall.”
“You don’t…mmmpphh!” Mustache was cut off as Melissa
stuffed a gag into his mouth.
“Nod if you change your mind,” Larra said, almost
casually. “Jean, help Sawatis
carry our friend to the
window.”
“Mmmmpph!” Mustache
protested as the two powerfully built men lifted him to his
feet.
Larra poked her head out the open window.
“There is a trestle about a mile or so ahead, just around this
bend. When we are right over
the centre of it toss him out the
window.”
Mustache struggled to break free.
It took a good two minutes for the train to round the curve and reach
the trestle. The hollow sound
of the wheels crossing the wooden structure rumbled up from
below. Sawatis and Lemaire tightened
their grip preparing to give the helpless thug the
heave-ho. Suddenly, the man began
nodding vigorously.
“Damn,” said Larra, calmly.
“I was looking forward to
that. But it seems he has changed
his mind.”
The struggling man was pulled back into the compartment, but Larra kept the
window open. “I’m going
to remove the gag,” she said, “but I want to hear some intelligent
answers. Waste my time and I’ll
get rid of you and question your friend
instead.” She nodded toward
the open window for emphasis.
Mustache suddenly became very talkative.
“My name is Al Stoddard.
Me and Jake, here,” he gestured toward the semi-conscious Mustache,
“was hired in Trawna to find out what you was up
to.”
“Who hired you?”
“Don’t know. Some Brit
– could tell by his accent.
But he wouldn’t let me see his
face. Always met in a dark
room. Gave us a thousand to follow
you and pick you off the train.”
Larra frowned. She suspected
Stoddard was telling the truth.
Even if he wasn’t, she had no way of checking on
him. “What were you supposed
to ask me?”
“Where you were going and what you had been sent to
find. Said I could use any means
I liked to get the information.”
“Once you were finished questioning me, what were you supposed to do
with me?”
Stoddard shifted uneasily.
“He said to get rid of you.
Told me to use my own imagination in doing
that.”
Larra’s eyes narrowed. She
could imagine what the two men would have done with her once they had gotten
whatever information out of her they
could. If Melissa and the two
men hadn’t shown up…
“Toss this garbage out the window,” she said in
disgust.
“Wait a minute,” objected
Lemaire. “These men abducted
you and were about to… I mean… Shouldn’t we turn them over
to the RCMP?
“Yeah,” agreed Stoddard, his face beaded with sweat, “the
RCMP.”
Larra looked at Sawatis. He returned
an impassive stare. She turned
back to Lemaire. “Police
investigations take time. I want
to get on with my expedition. As
you have probably figured out, it is rather
important.”
“And don’t worry about hurting these
two. We’ll wait until the
train slows and toss them into a soft
spot.”
Stoddard opened his mouth to yell for help, but Melissa neatly packed the
gag back into it.
“Alright,” agreed Lemaire, “but I’m not going to murder
anyone.”
“I have no intention of murder, Jean,” replied Larra with a smile
that would have melted a glacier.
“You pick the spot.
Find a nice safe place. But
don’t take too long. I want
these two to have a nice long walk back to
civilization.”
Lemaire nodded. “Oh,”
said Larra, “I almost forgot.
Loosen the ropes on their hands before you dump
them.”
Larra strode to the compartment door, and making sure the corridor was clear,
headed back to her own compartment, Melissa
following.
Back in her compartment, Larra stripped of her
blouse. “Ooh, that looks
nasty,” exclaimed Melissa, looking at the swollen purple flesh around
Larra’s left breast.
“It feels nasty,” responded Larra, gingerly peeling off her
bra. “Look in my cosmetics
bag and get me an unlabeled jar full of white
ointment. It should help this
heal faster.”
“Sure thing,” replied Melissa, a little embarrassed to see Larra
strip in front of her, but trying to act
nonchalant. She found the jar
and handed it to Larra.
Gingerly, Larra rubbed the ointment from the jar into the
bruise. It was a special compound
she had helped develop from the rejuvenating water from the mystical healing
spring that John Grey had shown her when she was in the Lost
World. It had worked wonders
on minor injuries before.
“That was a good bluff you used on that thug, threatening to throw him
off a trestle,” Melissa chimed in, trying to make
conversation.
Larra’s violet eyes flared up
briefly. “Who was
bluffing?” she asked, her face completely blank.
PREVIOUS
CHAPTER WIZARD'S
LAIR MAIN PAGE
L'ESPION'S
STORY PAGE
NEXT
CHAPTER