Read Online Agents In Harms Way by Don Winslow - Free Book Online Page B

ribbon banding her neck with the number “9” inscribed on the dull metal tag the size of a small coin that dangled from the front. She kept her chin held high, her lithe body softly swaying as the high heels she had been made to wear sank into the thick pile carpet with each step. But the tall woman never faltered, holding the tray before her, keeping her blue eyes fixed, unseeing, on some distant horizon, while her cheeks burned with profound humiliation.
    A step behind and to her left, her slightly built companion tottered precariously on her steepled heels with all the uncertainty of a young whore out for her first night on the streets. There was something about that sincere innocence of that small, freshly scrubbed face under that dusky mop of hair that made men want to fuck the girl. It was a thought that went through the mind of each man who saw young Kip, clad in black pantyhose and the loose miniskirt that barely layered her small, neatly-rounded bottom, entering the room in the wake of the elegant brunette. Abruptly all conversation stopped when, as one, the Captain and his rowdy crew turned from their places at the table to enjoy the entertaining sight of their two topless waitresses, coming through the doors with the heavily-laden trays.
    Standing in attendance to one side of the table was Meghan Dillon. The curvaceous blonde, now well rested and refreshed, looked much better than when they had first seen her hanging by her wrists in the playroom. Properly made-up, and with her pale wavy locks brushed back and combed, she was gorgeous; exposed breasts hanging heavily; bounteous tits, full and deeply curved, and tipped with wide taut nipples. She stood behind the men, an opened bottle of wine in her hands. The sight of that dynamite woman with that shiny black skirt slung low on the generous cradle of her flaring hips, her glamorous legs shimmering in the silky sheen of black pantyhose was guaranteed to bring a surging erection to even the most jaded man on board. The pretty girl looked up at the entrance of the other women, lush red lips parted expectantly; but she wisely kept quiet, though her wide chocolate eyes spoke of a sudden rush hope. Mallory couldn’t meet those hopeful eyes; she had to lower her own to the tray of dishes she carried before her.
    Having eaten a quick meal in the cramped galley under the watchful eye of the cook, a particularly despicable slug of a man who seldom emerged from his haunts deep in the ship, they now served the seated crew. All five were there: Merc and Yasir on one side, Dewayne and Sego facing them, and the neatly-dressed Captain at his accustomed place at the head of the table. Plates were set out, glasses filled; the erotically-clad waitresses made to stand by, while the crew dug hungrily into their evening meal, enjoying the scenery provided by their topless serving girls, who stood lined up in a row at the far end of the table.
    The men joked and told tales, their talk lubricated by the free-flowing wine as Meghan was kept hopping, re-filling glasses, which were generally finished in one swig. At one point, as she bent over to fill Dewayne’s glass, a swaying breast brushed his shoulder, causing him to turn to regard the beautiful blonde. He couldn’t resist scooping up the errant boob and pulling her forward by the clenched tittie-flesh until the helpless girl was bent low, her succulent breasts swinging forward, dangling over the table. The big blonde didn’t move, but froze in place, allowing herself to be fondled, for she well knew the price of disobedience. Her captor idly toyed with her nipple, as he kept up his side of the conversation with Merc, and then, without looking at her, flipped her hanging breast in dismissal, causing it to wobble for the amusement of his shipmates as the girl quickly straightened and was allowed to go about her business. All eyes followed her progress; they relished watching their bare-breasted prisoners’ parade back and forth