Rancho Paloma Blanca

An eBook By Estaban Bacca.

I taxied the Cessna to a standstill in front of the Quonset hut I used for a hanger. A glance back at my passengers assured me that they were still completely immobilized. I bent them forward from the waist and threw a blanket over them. Carlos had heard the plane land and pulled up in my Land Rover as always to slide open the big double doors. Together we rolled the plane inside. I dismissed Carlos, telling him I would inspect the rancho the following day. He pulled the doors closed and departed for the compound where he and the other hired hands lived.

Carlos was my foreman and a loyal servant. Even had he been aware of my activities I had no doubt he would have unquestioningly served my wishes, but a slaver is secretive by nature.  I made sure that even he had no idea that each time he rolled those doors closed behind the Cessna, identities disappeared forever.

I unlocked the heavy door to the sound proofed area that made up the rear half of the hanger and then went to unload my cargo. I pulled Mom out of the plane first and shoulder carried her into her new home. Lowering her to the floor I locked lined cuffs with rings onto each of her wrists. These I tied with cord to an electric wench overhead and with a quiet whirring noise she was soon hoisted onto her tiptoes.

I went back out to fetch the slight figure of the girl.  I laid her face down on the padded examination table. Once her wrists and ankles were secured, I pressed a floor petal and the hinged parts the table fanned out until her body was widely spread-eagled. I gathered her long blond hair in a vise clamp attached to a line which was threaded through a suspended pulley. I pulled the line until her head was up and hard back, exposing her lovely throat, and then tied it off to a cleat.

I strolled to the head end of the table for my first leisurely look at her face. I had to laugh out loud. Even with her mouth hanging open she was attractive. Her features still had that unformed juvenile quality but it was obvious that they would refine themselves into a face of stunning beauty. I reached down and removed the small gold studs from her cute little ears and flipped them into the trashcan.

It was time to unwrap my first present. When the mother regained consciousness the first thing I wanted he to see was her daughter’s naked body, stretched out, helpless and vulnerable. I removed the tennis shoes and bobby sox she was wearing and dropped them into the trashcan too.  Her feet were well cared for. Dainty and high arched with small, delicious looking toes. Next I took a heavy pair of scissors and snipped my way up the back of her white, cotton sweater and then down the back of each arm. I tugged it from under her and added it to the trash. I cut loose a rather plain white bra and tossed it with the rest. Her back was long and smooth. I ran a finger along the valley of her spine. Leaning over her, I reached down under the table and found the two round openings in it. I groped up through these and searched out her nipples. Locking on each of them with a thumb and forefinger I tugged until her apple sized breasts settled into the openings and hung free.

was pleased to note that both mother and daughter were wearing matching plaid, ankle length skirts. It was a touching little detail, indicative of a close relationship.  That should prove quite useful to me during their conditioning. My trusty scissors made short work of the daughter’s half of the ensemble. Her long coltish legs were now revealed. I slowly stroked a hand over a well-muscled calf and up the inside of a thigh. I cupped the warmth of her pantied crotch and then allowed my splayed hand to squeeze one of the cheeks of her firm, rounded rump. I moved around between her widely parted thighs and a couple of snips at the sides of her panties completed my work.  The remnants of these were also discarded.  The brownish pucker of her anus was exposed and I prodded it, testing the elasticity of her sphincter. It was tight and tiny. Below, crinkly cunt lips were slightly parted with a hint of her slick, pink core showing. I curled a finger up into her and twirled it. The hymen was intact. A bonus I had hardly dared hope for. I brought a taste of that moisture up to my tongue. She was delicious and slightly salty. I trailed the tips of my fingers through her sparse bush...

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