He gave her tits a final squeeze and carried on his way, getting close enough to see the fires that burned inside large oil drums. There were dozens of them, lighting up the area with orange flames that crackled and sent sparks into the night sky.
The place was reminiscent of a war zone. Wagons, some in silhouette, some brightly lit by the fires, were dotted around what looked like an old aeroplane hangar.
The soft ground was pitted and rutted from the weight of the heavy vehicles, leaving puddles of oily water that reflected the fiery light upwards. Occasionally the figure of a man could be seen running between buildings or vehicles, and sometimes he appeared to be dragging something behind him.
Something tethered, hobbled and struggling.
Peter pulled up at the entrance to the grounds just as spots of drizzle began to speckle the windscreen. Before entering he paused to take in the number of wagons parked up. There were a lot more than he'd expected and the first sense of butterflies fluttered in his stomach.
He drove cautiously to a clear spot and dropped from the cab. The drizzle had turned to sleet and the cold flecks of ice chilled his body. It chilled Claire more. He pulled her from the cab where her nipples jumped to attention at the cold and her mons shivered with goose pimples.
"Well," whispered Peter. "Here we go. Don't let me down now." He made his way towards the large building, Claire on her lead behind. Instead of going straight in, he went to where a window was fixed at the side. It had four very dirty, very greasy panes that hadn't seen soap and water in many a year. Peter rubbed away the grime and pressed his nose to the glass.
Inside, fires were burning in drums and a huge fire roared in the centre of the hangar, the smoke rising to vents that failed to clear the air, leaving a lot of the haze to fall back upon the congregation below. Through the smoky gloom shone bright lights in blues and reds and purples, lights spinning upwards, downwards and around, in a blinding kaleidoscopic display.
It was difficult to make out the people in the smoke and dancing lights, but some could be seen. Men taking women and girls away to different vehicles dotted around the sides of the building, to coaches, vans and trucks, all customised to include beds and couches where a woman could be taken, and fucked, and licked, and beaten and used.
Peter swallowed hard and took a deep breath, then gave Claire a tug with the lead to signal they were going in. Claire hadn't been able to see inside because the other windows were so dirty. She had no idea what events were taking place, but looking at all the vehicles and the fires she considered the possibility that Peter may just have been telling the truth all along.
When he opened the door and dragged her inside, the sight of a man driving a pick up truck from which hung a bound woman made her realise the awful truth.
The woman was nude and dangling from the hook that usually towed away cars. She was wearing nothing but a gag and cuffs around her wrists and ankles. The man drove towards the pair out of the smoke, 'Joes' Pick Up' emblazoned on the yellow paintwork of the truck. As the strains of Meatloafs 'Bat Out of Hell' boomed out from a hundred speakers, the driver screeched to a halt alongside Peter, took a quick glance at Claire's body, screamed 'What a fucking night!' and roared back into the smoke, the woman swinging wildly behind him as he went.
Behind the thick leather strap that covered her mouth Claire was begging to go home. A tug from Peter towards the smoke told her no.
As they passed through the unearthly smog, like the fog of old London, Claire caught glimpses of young girls being taken on leads. Where they were going she had no way of telling because the smoke was so dense it clouded things out after just a couple of yards. Occasionally, though, the lights would sweep through the mist revealing tantalising peeks of girls on the bonnets of trucks, men's buttocks pounding up and down between their thighs.
On one occasion a petite young thing with long black hair in a tight ponytail bumped right into her. The girl's look was vacant, even when a leather tawse cracked across her bottom as a punishment for clumsiness. Her man yanked the lead and she disappeared too.
Now, in an almost dreamlike state, Claire followed dutifully behind Peter, her head darting this way and that, trying to understand the awful sights that surrounded her. The smoke started to thin out and more and more came into view, including the hanging cranes.
From the roof hung several women in chains, some were hanging by their ankles, others by their wrists, like bats in a cave. Each girl was near naked except for the occasional basque or high heeled boots, some were blindfolded and all were gagged. Claire dragged her eyes away to the fire that raged in the centre of the floor only to see more of the same.
In a great circle around the flames stood cranes for lifting the engines out of cars, like the skeleton of a wigwam. Hanging from the top of each was a young girl in the same fashion as those on the ceiling. Some were upside down, others dangled by their wrists. Peter pulled Claire to one side and forced her across the bonnet of an old Morris Minor that waited on the dirt, its wheels missing.
With the sight of so much naked flesh on display his cock was already hard and he had little trouble in locating Claire's gash, which had already suffered so much from his prick earlier that day. Plugged into his woman like that, Peter looked every inch the Driver, gripping her waist to add momentum to his thrusts. He looked over the roof of the car to see another woman being serviced across the trunk and wondered just how many females fell into the grip of The Drivers. By the look of it, the figures ran into dozens.
At the cranes Peter noticed that the women were not there just for ornament. When a man wanted one he simply disengaged the hydraulics that held her suspended and released the chain. If he had one to replace her, all he had to do was attach her in the other girl's place and haul her up off the floor with the hydraulic handle.
Returning to the task beneath him Peter, fucked his sister-in-law slowly, looking about him for ways of escape as his dick slipped in and out of her well lubricated tube.
The ends of the building looked as if they opened up fully, while there were also smaller doors built into the large end doors. When he found Susan he would take her under the pretence of needing a fuck, and make his escape along with Claire.
As he studied the main door it began to open and a large lorry reversed into the hangar. The noise and smoke from its exhaust added to the general mayhem of the building. As it made its way through the smoke a bright white light was shone on its back doors. The lorry stopped and Peter read the sign that ran along the refrigerated trailer, 'Felix Ferries'!
The words stopped his pumping hips in mid thrust and his cock slipped out from between Claire's legs. Hoping he was finished she stood up and read the sign herself, recognising it from what Peter had told her. They watched as two men jumped from the cab and began unlocking the trailer door.
Two men! Lincoln and his brother!
They pulled open the large metal doors to reveal six women, stripped and hanging from meat hooks in the refrigerator. At the press of a button the poles on which the hooks and women hung extended out of the trailer. When they were all the way out, a fork lift truck came up and the women were each transferred to a crane.
Oh God! One of them was Melanie!
Pulling Claire behind him, Peter followed to see where Melanie was taken. They stopped with her beneath a crane. Peter set Claire on a small tower of tyres and fondled her tits as he watched Melanie being forced to lie on the floor while her feet were attached to a hook and chain. When she was secure she was hauled up to hang from the ceiling, about thirty feet off the floor.
Now his plans were really complicated!