Chapter 1 - Tan

Ly Thi Tan looked up at the manacles on her wrists. They were made of leather, tight but butter-soft to keep her on her toes without making marks. That was smart, she thought -- to keep the merchandise in good condition. She had to admit her entire abduction and training had been handled professionally ... was slavery still a profession?

She looked at the peasants on the other side of the road. They were tending their fields, trying to ignore what was taking place, but there was disapproval in their faces. They disapproved of giving whores to the soldiers and of anything associated with the practice, including her. She was a victim, but instead of sympathy of pity, they were contemptuous of her! How did that work exactly? She wondered. Did they think she had somehow brought this on herself?

Slowly, she turned her naked body with her toes until she was facing them then she spread her legs and lifted her midsection exposing her full cunt. It hurt to spread her legs like that and lift even with the butter-soft manacles holding her, but she was tired of being everyone’s victim. She closed her legs and turned away from the shocked gawkers.

After a while, she stretched herself to her limits trying to take some her weight off her arms. The full-body suspension was vicious -- it both exposed her and delivered pain. Every part of her hurt from her long toes to her long fingers.

Long toes ... long fingers ... Everything about her was long, too long, she thought miserably. She had long feet, long legs, long hair; she even had long pointed tits and long thick nipples. She was a freak.

This was really why she was here, she thought. This was really why she had become a stewardess for Global Air. Asian men had no taste for her “different” looks; they preferred the more subdued appearance and gracious presentation of shy Asian females.

She lifted one of her bare feet off the ground and rotated it to ease the pain then stretched out her leg behind. She imagined she must look like a ballerina performing an arabesque. She had wanted to be a dancer once. She had the body for it ... just not in Thailand.

The Western businessmen who flew Global Air admired her tall slender figure. They stared at her shamelessly, at her pointed tits and shapely legs. Their lust was just below the surface, barely controlled. It frightened her sometimes, but it did make her popular among those passengers. Unfortunately, their attention made the Asians around her despise her even more.

“You could be a model in Europe,” one especially bold and rude man had told her once. “Women would go crazy to be like you and men, well men would do anything to possess you.”

She had just giggled and blushed then scampered away. She had politely deflected all the many advances of Westerners. She was much too shy to flirt with them like some of the other flight attendants.

“That was stupid,” she screamed angrily. The pain in her feet made it feel as if she was standing on hot coals. One of the guards looked up from his rest but didn’t move. The guards were almost finished with them, she remembered, why bother with discipline now?

If I had played their games, I’d probably be in a relationship right now -- fucking some rich businessman, perhaps luxuriating in a Paris apartment, sun bathing on the beach at Cannes. Instead, I am hanging by my wrists like a side of beef outside a Godforsaken military barracks waiting.... What were they waiting for anyway?

She turned her head and stared at the other girls. The sun was high now and its light was turning their nude bodies a golden brown. Chinese men loved their golden skin, for some reason they found it sexually inviting.
They were being given to the officers gathered in the barracks -- flesh-and-blood rewards for the men’s loyalty and good service to the Party. These officers were like none other in the world; they were brutal, purposely selected for their cruelty and lack of morals. She had heard the stories. She fully expected to be tied down to a wooden bed frame in some officer’s hooch by nightfall being whipped and raped. They were nothing more than slaves; the men considered that a license to treat them like animals ... worse than animals. Men did not lust for their animals, but for them...
It was appropriate, she thought, that they had strung them up on the butcher’s frames behind the barracks. This was where animals belonged. Many of the girls hanging on the frames had had the same dream as her. They had tried to leverage their beauty for a better life only to end up in the jungle, captives of the sadists at Gió Nnhẹ Nhàng (Gentle Breeze) Camp.
She dropped her head in memory of her time at Gió Nnhẹ Nhàng. She had never been able to fully submit at the camp. Her intransigence had earned her a weekly beating with the cane. It was also the reason she had been sent north. Some of the girls had been purchased by Westerners to fuck Western men as CELTs. She had never been presented to them despite her Western looks. She wasn’t submissive enough, they said. She was for the Chinese; they would straighten out her thinking.
“Not submissive enough...” That was just another way to say she still had her own mind. Many of the girls at Gió Nnhẹ Nhàng had been turned into mindless automatons by the torture. Those who did not had to hide their opposition. Some were better at hiding it than others.
She had not been able to bury her rage. She had not been able to accept being abducted and enslaved. Many of the other girls had embraced submission as a way out. They wrapped their lips tight around the guards’ cocks and prayed.
She just couldn’t do that. The canings had come close to breaking her, but they always stopped just short -- no one wanted to hurt her enough to mar her beauty, to reduce her value. She remembered standing naked on the bamboo whipping platform, screaming for mercy. It had been terrible, but even that terrible pain and shame had not purged her anger. It kept reappearing in her like a deadly cancer.
They had a name for girls like her in Thai, “ข้อบกพร่อง” -- flawed. It was an accurate description, compared to most of the other women, those who sensibly submitted, she was flawed. Her flaws had cost her her airline job; they had prevented her being selected as a European CELT; they had gotten her caned and worse; they had caused her to be shipped north like a side of beef hung on a hook in the back of a truck.
The truck... They had hung them on meat hoots for the journey north. Every movement of the vehicle sent their naked bodies swinging into each other. Some had tried to wrap their legs around other bodies, but it was no use. They had stopped screaming after a while, after they understood they were nothing more than human meat -- suitable for fucking a man for keeping him warm and cooking his food -- but nothing more. They had no feelings, no emotions, and no real thoughts. They didn’t feel pain the same way humans did...

There was shouting near the cabin and she looked up. A group of men were leaving the building pushing at each other, jockeying for position, joking good-naturedly. They had clearly been drinking during the night while they awaited the shipment. They wore bits and pieces of Chinese army uniforms, officer’s uniforms.

It was true they were to be army whores. How fucking stupid, she thought. Why go through all those weeks of slave-training at Gió Nnhẹ Nhàng if they were to be simply human toilets for army cocks? They didn’t need to be submissive to be fucked like that. She felt a wave of shame and fear then unconsciously squeezed her long legs together.

Mixed in among the officers were the six guards from the camp in Vietnam. They had transported them to this place. They each had a quirt hanging from their belts. It was a short whip with a leather thong at the end.

The quirt, the dreaded quirt ... it demanded attention, attention and absolute obedience. If Gió Nnhẹ Nhàng camp had taught her anything it was that pain trumped pride every time. Obedience was not an option when your body was on fire; it was the price you paid to make it stop, to continue to live. Even she had been forced to hide her resistance inside; it was either that or a terrible death at the hands of these quirt-totting monsters.

She watched as the army men formed a single line, seniors first, to walk up and down the neat rows of girls hanging on the butcher’s frames. It was another selection of some kind. They were being chosen, each man was being given the opportunity to select the meat he preferred.

Each man lingered in front of each girl and ... inspected her, touched her, observed her responses. On request, a guard standing behind would let his quirt fly into the girl’s ass so the man could see how she handled pain. They lingered longer over some like her, her unique features attracting their attention. It went on for a long time, the handler’s quirts cut through the morning air and the answering screams animated the interrogations.

Tan raised her head in between two of the men and glanced at the peasants. They were watching, shaking their heads, clucking like hens. She hated them more than the officers. They were animals, brutes, who gave into their most monstrous instincts. The peasants knew better, but still they criticized. Their moral superiority was sickening.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a car tires on a gravel road. She turned just as the car screeched to a dusty stop. A man emerged; he was a high ranking officer resplendent in his perfect uniform. The other officers moved back cautiously as if he had some kind of disease. There was fear in their eyes. The man closest to her whispered the word “general” as he stepped away. Tan was amazed -- seconds before they had been the masters, the aggressors, now they were themselves cowed.

The man, the general stepped closer then casually strolled and down the line of slaves. No one spoke. He stopped in front of her and stared for a while then brushed the back of his hand over her oversized nipples. It felt ice cold and she arched back. He looked her in the eye then gripped her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. It was a warning -- don’t ever deny me what I want.

She wanted to scream at him, to catch a part of his flesh in her teeth and tear at it, but her training was too strong. She straightened and stood still, suffering the pain of his fingers. Only the rage in her eyes hinted at what she was thinking. You are a fucking savage...!

The general laughed humorlessly then called over a guard and ordered him to stand behind.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered speaking English.

It was the King’s English not American or Australian, but British. She had developed an ear for accents during her time with the airline.

Tan stared at him but didn’t move. She knew what was about to happen, they both did. She knew it would happen whether she obeyed or not. He smiled and nodded his head and the guard’s quirt struck her bare ass cheek with a resounding thwack. She yelped in pain through clenched teeth and her muscles contracted. The general glanced approvingly at her abs then back to her face and nodded again. He did it five times in total.

“Open your mouth,” he repeated, smiling.

She continued to stare rudely into his eyes. He was enjoying her resistance, her foolish show of defiance, her pain. Her mind screamed its objection, sending her jaw the urgent command to open. Another part of her brain vetoed the order. It was as if she was taunting the tall man, combating him with the only weapon she had left -- her free will.

The guard at her rear drew back his arm to strike her again. The general held up his hand.

“STOP!” he said quietly then turned back to Tan. The other men standing off to the side were aghast. She could feel their resentment -- no one defied the general!

She had known many pilots at Global Air who had the same command presence. Men shrank back from them; women threw themselves at them. But none were ever as terrifying as the general standing in front of her. She glanced at the faces of his men; they were terrified and terrified of anyone discovering their terror.

Tan opened her mouth then ran her tongue over her full lips. It was a form of surrender, a kind of admission, an acknowledgement of his power, but it was also a show of defiance. She had some power as well and she wanted him to know it. She lowered her eyes as a gesture of conditional surrender.

He laughed.

“Put this one in my car,” he said. “Dress her first.”

The guard standing behind opened his mouth and began to explain that she had only a marginal record of obedience from Gió Nnhẹ Nhàng; that she was a trouble-maker and had been repeatedly punished at the camp. The general let him finish then nodded.

“Put her in my car,” he repeated. “Dress her first.”

It was an acknowledgement that he had heard the man but also a warning not to question him a second time. There was something dangerous in the calm way he delivered the repeated order, almost as if he was tolerating the lack of understanding in a lesser species.

“Yes, Comrade General,” the guard answered.

He barked an order to another man standing nearby and Tan was released from the suspension and quickly dressed in a pair of old jeans and a tank top. The guard roughly walked her to the nearby staff car and pushed her inside to the floor. The general sat inside a few seconds later and the car drove away.

Tan rose to her knees and glanced back at the rows of hanging girls. One of them was being removed and a collar belted around her neck. A Chinese Captain stood nearby holding a dog-leash.

Tan settled back and stared at the floor. The clothing, the first she had worn in weeks, had given her power. She would never have dared to rise up and look back if she had been naked.

Would she have been better off with a more junior officer? She wondered. She had heard stories about the cruelty of the Chinese senior officers. They were reputed to be ruthless; that was how they advanced in the ranks. She glanced up, the general was ignoring her, totally focused on the documents in his lap.

China...she was in China and in the hands of one of China’s most ruthless sons. The Western saying “from the frying pan into the fire” sprang into her head.