Sold, Packaged, and Shipped

Chapter 15: The Journey
With a gray overcast and drizzling rain, there was not much to see as the luxury auto drove north into the heart of England. They
passed small towns with quaint names such as Whitchurch, Worthy Down and Old Burghclere, and then round the edge of the
City of Oxford before they were onto a six-lane motorway, still heading north. On the outskirts of Manchester the car pulled off
the motorway and a little way down a quieter road then into a small park. By then the drizzle had escalated to a more noticeable
but still half-hearted rain. There, under some ancient oak trees and with heavy drops tapping on the roof, they ate lunch. A picnic
basket provided sandwiches and drink. The girls were allowed to push the golf balls from their mouths, which, after holding them
in for hours, was a welcome change. They were hand fed by the chauffer, who broke off bite-sized bits of the sandwiches. Water
from a bottle equipped with a straw was provided them. Then, with the simple meal over, the golf balls were again inserted into
two unwilling mouths and the drive continued.
During the journey, both of the women kept their attention outside the auto. Other cars and trucks often drove near them, even
alongside. The chauffer made no attempt to prevent other traffic from cruising alongside them. Sometimes passengers in other
vehicles looked into the expensive auto and noted two pretty blondes sitting in the backseat and looking back. The first few times
that happened and eye contact was made, Melinda frowned and wanted so badly to spit out that ball and scream for help. The
truckers and families and even children who looked in would probably not have heard her, and she was aware of Reggie and that
damned button he could press and deliver so much pain. She never wanted to feel that kind of pain again.
The trip was uneventful and really rather comfortable for them, when you consider the alternative of being tightly bound and
boxed up in a coffin. With arms taped behind them, they were secured but certainly more comfortably than those single gloves
and ropes they had spent so much time in the last few days. Their legs were not bound and after not too many miles, Darlene
moved her leg over to touch against Melinda’s. It was not much, but at least it was some communication when they could not
talk.
The only time that both of them came to a high alert was twice when they stopped for petrol. As the Rolls sat there, the chauffer
filling the tank, both women were very much aware of the autos also in the station and the people walking around. Here were
people walking only a few steps from them! People who could call the police. The temptation was great and Melinda came close
to action. Only two things stopped her. One was Darlene pressing her booted leg against Melinda’s. The other was Reggie
holding the control unit. He did not even bother to turn around to look at them or offer a word of caution. He simply held up the
unit for them to see. That simple little black box with his thumb so near that button scared them.
Melinda’s mind was in turmoil. She feared the pain he could create within her vagina, but she also feared what the future might
bring. For long, agonizing seconds she considered pushing the ball out and screaming her head off for help. He would press the

button and she would be in agony, but maybe it would be worth it. If it led to their being freed. That was a big “IF.”
Finally, she realized that not only would she be suffering, Darlene would also. That single button could deliver agony to both of
them. Still...
Then she realized that Reggie was watching her eyes in the rear view mirror. She just knew that he would be pressing that
button before she could get out a single cry for help. With moan, she lowered her head and did nothing.
The auto moved smoothly through countryside that became more rural as the miles passed. With the gray overcast and the
coming evening, there was less and less to see. Finally, they were driving through almost total darkness save for lights on
buildings and passing cars.
Not far into the journey, Melinda found her eyelids closing by themselves and her thoughts wandering. Several times she awoke
with a jerk as her head nodded. She wished she could lean over far enough to rest her head on Darlene’s shoulder and maybe
get some real sleep.
Darlene also nodded a bit. Her sleep had not been all that refreshing, what with her arms pulled so tightly behind her and those
high heels making her feet ache.
Several times Reggie looked back at them, but more often he was busy with paperwork of some kind and frequent cell phone
conversations about business matters.
It was still raining, perhaps a little harder, when they finally reached the hunting lodge of the Harcourt family. Having called ahead
when they approached, the staff had the outside lights on and were ready for them. The car pulled into a large garage that had
once been a stable, and halted.
The lodge staff were standing by, almost at attention. There were only two of them, a couple in their mid-thirties. The man was
slender, crew cut hair and a stern, military look. He wore a long sleeved black shirt and matching pants. She was a short woman,
hardly over five feet, dressed in a pale blue jumpsuit that looked almost like a pilot’s flight suit. She had a turned-up nose and
freckles across the cheek of her youthful looking, girl-next-door face. Her hair was of a golden-red and pulled back into a tight
ponytail. The almost innocent effect was spoiled by a vivid scar running for several inches along her left cheek. Neither showed
any emotions.
“Take these two downstairs. Feed them and make them semi-comfortable for the night. I’ll attend to them in the morning.”
Reggie’s orders were greeted with only a nod from the man. The Master handed the man the control unit then marched off

without a backward glance at his new property, accompanied by the chauffeur.
Inside the auto, lulled by the warmth for the heater and the long drive, both women were sleeping.
“Well, look at that, will you?” said the woman when the door was opened. “Two sleeping babies!” Her accent was American, an
odd contrast to the man, who spoke with a Scottish brogue. “Not for long,” he told her.
Then he touched the button.