Chapter Twenty-One

Stoner knew that Cheryl’s hopes of immediate release had been crushed and that she was convulsing with sorrow and disappointment. No matter what she had thought while so long confined, he knew that she had certainly not been prepared for the reception she had just received. Stoner knew his business. He had to have a good handle on the feelings of those he mastered. How else could he maximize his exploitation of them?

Jeremiah was a case in point. Stoner knew that Jeremiah hated him and all white men. But he knew also that Jeremiah enjoyed the domination of white women and liked to watch them suffer. He had allowed Jeremiah an occasional spree with his toys, and they always came back more obedient and pliant than they had been before spending some time with this servant. That was what Jeremiah lived for.

After several hours, the aircraft circled the lake appurtenant to Stoner’s plantation and began its descent. Once landed, it cruised slowly to dockside. The regular crowd was there, servants, slaves really, who worked his fields, maintained his house and, when he wanted them to, even wiped his ass. He was lord here and everyone knew it. Standing at attention was also a small contingent of his mercenary force and its commander, a tall, jet black native, named Kurim.

Every lord needed an army and Stoner had his; three hundred armed men, two attack helicopters, and a more than adequate arsenal of weapons. They patrolled the edges of Stoner’s empire, enforced his rule and even plundered neighboring villages and towns on his order. The men liked the plunder part and Stoner liked it too. Fear brought control, and it was good to keep the surrounding countryside and those assholes down in the capital in fear. Three hundred well-armed and trained men were more than enough to tip the scales in any internecine struggle in the capital. With his small air force of transports, Stoner could have his men in the capital forty minutes from takeoff. That was plenty to provide support on behalf of his anointed ruler and had a few times.

Stoner had taken advantage of the trip to collect his new female property to stock up on goodies for the plantation. There was plenty of rum and ganja for the men, food, the best of which was destined for his consumption, some gold, some weapons and other odds and ends for his own delight. The laborers commenced unloading the goods while Jeremiah wheeled off the plantation’s newest guest. Stoner had had Jeremiah replace the sides and top of the box before wheeling Cheryl from the plane. Stoner watched as the black carton was wheeled away from the loading dock and up the small, grassy hill that separated the dock from the buildings of the plantation. He would conclude his welcoming ministrations to his new toy later. For now, his interests shifted to an update of security and other issues from Kurim.

Cheryl was wheeled up the path between the principal residence, the Stoner Mansion, and the outbuildings that lay to its south. Her destination was a single story, whitewashed concrete building that sat about fifty yards from the main building. The box containing the forlorn beauty was brought into the main room of the building, lifted from the floor and set upon a cushioned table in the center of the room.

Jeremiah quickly undid the clasps holding the box shut and its top and sides fell away. There was Cheryl in all of her agonized splendor. She was wide awake now, and trembling in anticipation of some new outrage. But that would come later. Now was to be a peaceful interlude at last.

Jeremiah carefully undid the strap securing Cheryl’s arms. He unleashed her ankles from the box’s padded bottom and released the buckles that secured Cheryl’s legs to her thighs. He knew that a sudden extension of Cheryl’s legs could result in pulled muscles or torn tendons, and so he slowly and gently extended one leg after the other. The strain on Cheryl’s leg and thigh muscles was painful, but at the same time, as a portent of her ultimate freedom from her long and terrorizing confinement, a source of great exhilaration to her. “Finally,” she thought. “Release.”

Once her legs had been fully extended, and her body lay half on and half off of the bottom of the box that had been her prison, Jeremiah gently lifted Cheryl’s torso with one hand and pulled the box bottom from underneath her.

Now Cheryl was lying fully extended for the first time in days. A paroxysm of relief shuddered through her body. She began sobbing through her gag, sobbing as she never had before in her life. Her hands were still bound behind her and the mask and gag still adorned her head and mouth. But she was laying on a cushioned leather table, blood finally flowing freely thorough her extremities.