The wind pushed on the car to no avail. They were going forwards and nothing but a blessed tragedy could change that. The tires made their monotonous hiss over the recently rain-washed highway and the air that made its way through the filters smelled meadow-sweet. All around, through those dark tinted windows of the car that Remy managed to acquire for their shenanigans, Rogue could see vast fields. Obviously, the place picked for that rendezvous was an eerie one, well away from the city. Inside that tin box destined for the horizon the world outside continued like some choreographed dance but without the soul, it should have. The two passengers traveled in silence, both lost in their own thoughts of insecurities.
When the both of them were riding a car together, Rogue was usually the one that drove. She loved cars, he love bikes. And, they had this unspoken agreement, when in a car, she drove, when on a motorbike, it was his turn to be in control. Not that day though, Remy had to look like he was dominant and that his 'wife' wasn't allowed such frivolities as being the one with full command and say over their destination. All that silence and the room for thoughts that it provided were getting on his nerves, so he fiddled with the radio to fill their ears and lull their senses for a bit. Rogue examined meticulously the hem of the dress that she was wearing. They looked like they were attending Sunday church, good quality clothes, respectable in every way.
'Not what one would expect to wear for a sex party,' Rogue thought idly. She could not imagine or predict what was in store, but, being around her ex and best friend, having spent the past few days in each other's company, wasn't as bad as she had imagined. Oddly, it felt comfortable, she felt safe from everything, from heartbreak, from judgment, from prejudice. Being with him was just easy, she decided. That ride, that car, that meeting - they had found a use for her and somewhere at the end of that road was the answer to what that could be.
When they finally arrived, they noticed there were many other cars in the parking area. About fifteen, to be precise. That meant fifteen more couples, fifteen more women locked in a wedding that would eventually transform their lives in hell. The gates to the big house were open for anyone to come inside. Staging the meeting in that more secluded area, they seemed to be pretty confident and not fearing any intruders or retaliation. It all looked very innocent indeed. A reunion of young couples whose wives were from Latin countries was merely an opportunity for the ladies to mingle and exchange their experiences as newly immigrated women who had little to no network of support at all, and no friends or family. It was a nice idea to host a club where people with similar experiences could meet. Maybe that's how it started, Remy considered the idea. And he was right in assuming that, but the founder of the club realized he could explain to others how to get their perfect Latin wife to be submissive, allowing their men to play with their own women and others. Drugs, alcohol, sex games, wife swapping, there was a whole new horizon to explore. And once the games started, they spiraled out of control. The sky was the limit, how much pleasure could they get out of using and abusing women who had no other options but to comply with their demands? Possibilities were endless. As long as there were no fatalities or casualties, they could keep going with their activities for as long as they wanted, undetected and unpunished or so they hoped.
There were things Remy had to read in that deep web forum that he hadn't shared with Rogue as he knew it would upset her so much, she would want to go crash, boom, bang the moment she stepped into their so-called meeting.
One of the most disturbing messages his sponsor, as their buddy in crime within the organization was called, sent him read, 'Man, we will groom her, in the end, she will agree, some of them show signs of enjoyment. Not all drugs in the world can take away someone's essence. These ladies get fucked by three of us at once and they go all wild, screaming and moaning. It's amazing, you'll see. Besides, they don't even speak the language of this country, who could ever hear them? Who will ever give them any credit for what they say? Besides, I'll teach you all about how to trap her in a way she can't ever leave you. You gotta knock her up, man. They get attached to the children, they'll do whatever you want to avoid losing custody. They'll never try to run if they can't take the kids with them.'
He shook off that memory from his head, and looked at Rogue, dressed up to look the part, with her hair dyed dark brown, and her modest dress. Still, much to his worry and dismay, there was no hiding those appetizing curves of hers. The moment they saw her, he knew that they would want to play with her. With those voluptuous breasts, tiny waist, and wide hips, lips so plump that they could be criminal, she had a target on her back. He knew he would have to act fast and try to get the confessions they needed, those perverts would prey on her, that was for sure.
As Remy pulled up the car and the vehicle was still, Rogue straightened up, her body suddenly tense. A shiver came down her spine, Remy knew her too well not to notice.
"Are you OK, mon amour? Shall we get going, chére?" He asked her as he reached for her hands and gave them a reassuring little squeeze.
At the moment, she only wished he would quit the 'chéres' and 'mon amours'. They were not together anymore after all. She knew he meant well and that he cared for her deeply, but all that sweetness hid a concern. It meant he worried because he still saw her as fragile and vulnerable. But he was wrong in assuming that and she would prove his assumptions were incorrect.
A nod was her only reply. She stepped out of the car and walked towards the big house in front of them. Remy urged her to wait, explaining that they should walk together, better even, she should have her walk behind him. They should present an image of a marriage in which the man was the top chain and the wife simply followed. Where these abusers were concerned, it was all about power and control.
"If I pull this off and sell this image of a submissive housewife, I should get an Oscar nomination. I swear to God, Remy LeBeau!" She commented jokingly to try and lift the bad mood she had created before.
At the door, they were greeted by Brian. A name Rogue had heard a lot the past few days. According to Remy, this guy seemed to be the mastermind of it all. Middle-aged, he married a Latina woman he had met on the internet over 10 years ago. Soon he found out how easy was to manipulate and have ultimate control of an immigrant woman who barely spoke the language. Remy said that in the forum that guy bragged about it and promised to teach other idiots like him how to pull the same theme. He created a game plan with rules and steps to easily accomplish their ultimate goal, to have a human, real-life doll that they could be treated whichever they pleased.
Rogue remembered Remy reading from their deep web group:
"Rule number 1: Whatever you do, do not fall in love. That is good advice," he said mockingly. "Once upon a time, I fell in love with you, and then, bam, my life was never the same again," he confessed honestly.
The memory quickly faded away as she snapped back to the present moment. Remy was being guided away from her by that fellow Brian. Not before the pervert checked her out as if she was a piece of meat and he was hungry.
As Remy followed the man and stepped away from his beloved, his eyes locked with Rogue's for a moment. At that fleeting moment, both of them felt their connection stronger than ever before. They were together on this unexpected mission, but it was more than that. They both knew it, but still, they pretended not to see that there was an ocean of feelings involved.
Just as Rogue was lost in his eyes, a woman in her mid-thirties, perhaps Brian's wife, held her hand, pulling her back to the present moment. She was a beautiful brunette, about the same height as Rogue herself. She had a great presence, her inviting smile lit up the room. She addressed Rogue with admiration and spoke cheerfully to her in Spanish.
"Welcome, my dear. How beautiful you are! I hope you're looking forward to meeting new people. Please, let me introduce you to the other girls."
Rogue acknowledged her welcome and thanked her for having her and her husband in the Spanish she stole from Maria earlier that evening. She decided to play the shy new girl on the block. The less she spoke the better, it would decrease her chances of saying something she shouldn't and blowing their cover in the process.
Just then, as soon as she joined a room where all the other wives were, she could tell them all apart. There were the newcomers like herself and the look they gave her was a mix of the vibes she frequently got from other women she met for the first time. There were some admiration looks, some jealous states, and some of them smiled at her truly sympathizing with her, maybe eager to bond and make friends in this different new country. However, a smaller number of them looked at her in a way that made her want to curl up in a ball on the floor. Their eyes were heavy with concern, there was no joy for her arrival, and it was clear that they pitied her. They could well imagine what was in store for the deluded naive newbies.
As the women gathered in an adjacent room away from their husbands, the sound of warm cheerful chatter erupted and filled the room. The melodic rhythm of the Spanish language could be heard. Rogue noticed that the woman who looked at her with guarded reservation when she arrived spoke very little and observed the others wearily. The lady approached her and complimented her on her looks. Not even a hello, or 'ola'.
"Eres muy guapa," she said. Rogue was surprised and taken aback but thanked the lady anyway.
"Tienes hijos?" The lady shot the unexpected question about children right after. Rogue played the shy girl role well, looked down at the floor, and only shook her head.
The lady quickly added in Spanish, "Whatever you do, do not get pregnant. Your man is handsome, and he may sound like he is in love, but he's got other plans for you, believe me."
"What kind of plans?" Rogue asked her, very interested to know how much she knew, but she didn't get a straight answer.
"When you came in, you clearly looked at him like you are head over heels for him, but don't fall into that trap. Don't be stupid as I was."
When Rogue looked at her questioningly, the woman only added what in her mind made perfect sense, "I wish someone had told me that."
Rogue watched a little stunned as the lady moved past her to go talk to someone else. Poor thing, that one was probably a victim too, just like Carla. All of them were. The women kept chitchatting away, and Rogue wondered why they didn't open up to each other. In her mind, they should tell the world, and start their own little revolution. But things were not that easy when you don't speak the language of the country you live in; when you have no access to resources; when all you know are threats and oppression.
She couldn't understand because she had the privilege of not knowing firsthand what it is like to feel trapped in abusive relationships because of immigration laws, language barriers, social isolation, and lack of financial resources. It was not that easy to get out, so most accepted that fate was like their cross to bear. When you are deep into the trauma, there's no seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Getting more and more restless by the second, Rogue wondered what Remy was up to with the men. She hoped that he was fairing better than her and getting confessions on record so they could just leave that place able to take the legal route to help all those women, offering them a way out for themselves and their children.
In another room upstairs where all the men gathered there were no pretenses or charades. Away from their women, they didn't care to hide their dark secrets. Instead, they took tremendous pride in sharing their abuse stories as if they were trophies. Remy was finding it harder and harder to disguise his disgust and aversion to those absolute assholes. The abusers used their partners' immigration status as a tool of control which was deplorable per se. They divided their scheme into steps that the men should follow to obtain absolute power over their wives. To exert control over their wives' immigration status to force them to remain in the relationship. When that was not enough, the children would guarantee they stripped the women of their last ounce of motivation to fight and get out.
Their meeting started with all the steps being reviewed, then, each man declared which step they were in. One of the men proudly declared his wife had fallen pregnant recently, which then, led the others to start debating who would be the first to have sex with her after post-partum. That was decided in terms of merits and badges they received for their achievements with their own wives. A man who was already at the stage where he could spank and share his wife without repercussions got to fuck another man's wife before others who hadn't gotten that far yet.
After this accountability stage was over, the bragging stories started pouring in. Each man present was encouraged to share. There was no shame in pulling their pants down and masturbating to another man's story. There were stories of neglect, like leaving a woman naked for hours in a cold darkened closet while the man slept comfortably in the couple's bed. Spanking, and flogging without consent. Stories of humiliation, like beating a lady in front of his male friends who also belonged to their club. Some showed videos of such acts. Remy was wondering how much longer he would be able to get away without joining the perverted demonstration, when Brian, the leader, told him it was his time to share.
Being a liar at a professional level, he shouldn't have an issue with that. But to be convincing, he always played with something that was true but distorted it to fit his purpose. Keeping a shred of sincerity always helped him when he had to deceive.
"We were in shackles," he started, "in the basement, no lights were on. She was scared, until that point, all she knew was vanilla sex," Lie, he thought to himself, she knew no sex at all back then. "It was hard to maneuver with the shackles holding both of us, not allowing for much movement, but that only made it more enticing. That was all completely new for her, I could feel her tremble with fear and anticipation. The shackles cut through her skin and left delicious red marks on her creamy white skin. I had the pleasure of watching those marks for a week," Another lie that came out effortlessly, there was no pleasure at all after that night in the cave with her, there was only guilt, so much it threatened to engulf him, swallow him whole.
He went on to describe in full detail, the actions that did happen, how he held on to her little waist, sucked all her special spots and tasted her pink nipples, bit them until they were sore. And that was all they wanted to hear, how he fucked her, how she cried out his name in abandon and that he gave them, feeling horrible about it, but sounding very convincing. What would Rogue think if she learned that he had shared one of their more special and intimate moments in front of an audience? Not to mention that audience was made up of some of the most horrible excuses for human beings.
Gladly he wouldn't have to endure much more of it. The sexual encounters were about to start and Rogue and he would be able to leave, considering that their pretend marriage was not at the step required for participation in that part of the event. Remy was confident that they had more than enough material to nail down those bastards. The doors to the room were finally open and in moments they would be joined by their wives. The newbies would be leaving and the couples who were well ahead in that sordid game would be staying to perform all sorts of sexual acts, abuse, and violence.
As soon as Remy descended the stairs, his eyes searched the place frantically to find Rogue but she was nowhere to be seen. Some of the couples were uniting and already leaving. When he was about to go to Brian and voice his discontent, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Surely you remember your first night joining us you have to prove to us that you are not faking it, that you are really one of us,"
Remy was having none of that and was already searching his pants pockets for a card to charge. While the other man pressed his case, "It will be an absolute pleasure to watch you fuck your sultry wifey. I'm sure that pussy of hers is paradise, just can't wait for when the time comes that I can taste it myself."
At those insulting words, he forgot everything, about his reasoning for being there, and how much he wanted to stop those guys by using evidence and the right legal tools. He found a card and held onto it, trying to charge it. Nothing happened, right then, he feared for Rogue's safety. Where the hell did they take her? What were they doing to her? As if his thoughts were being listened to, an answer came right after.
"She's waiting for you in a room upstairs. Make us proud, boy. We are counting on you for one of the most sensual initiation nights."
Determined to be led to the woman he loved, Remy LeBeau let go of the card and followed the man away from the other members.