It had been in Hong Kong after her mission to China a few months earlier, one of the
‘local difficulties’ she had earlier recalled in an otherwise successful mission. She had
obtained the information she needed from the Chinese slob, Chan, and passed it back
through couriers to London. Her defences were down, she was clubbing before flying back
to Britain the following day. A Chinese cloakroom girl at the club had insisted on a
random drugs spot-check.
Samantha had thought it was genuine. She had already had a few drinks
and wasn't in 'work-mode.' She had sent her colleagues from the British trade
mission ahead of her into the club.
Obediently raising her arms in a side room after her bag was searched, she
tolerantly allowed the pretty Chinese girl, probably still in her teens, to run her hands
down her body. Those hands had moulded to the firm breasts jutting through her thin pink
jumper as she stared curiously into Samantha’s eyes, before they patted down her body.
“Turn and lean against door frame, please,” the girl had requested. Although
surprised at the thoroughness of the search, she was also impatient to rejoin her
companions and thus Samantha obeyed without fuss. A full-length theatrical mirror by the
door had reflected her look of exasperation as the hands moved over her again. She felt
them move delicately over her waist before familiarly patting the cheeks of her bottom
under her short, tight black skirt.
“I think we need be more thorough, please remove clothes,” the singsong voice had
demanded from behind her.
“Now look … what the…!” Samantha’s protest died at the sight of the Chinese thug
who had come out from behind a curtain in the small room to point a small silenced pistol
steadily at her. Quickly her eyes took in the legs of what was presumably one of the real
staff of the club protruding from a cupboard behind the curtain.
“I afraid you take something from our boss, Mr Chan, and he like back,” the girl
stated. “You either strip so we look, or we kill you and then we look. We no care either
way. Hurry, we not much time!”
"Look, you're wasting your time, I've sent it …"
"Shut face, Western cow!" the girl snapped. “You expect us believe you? Do exactly
as told or die right now, your choice - I no care."
Licking her lips in fear, her mind rapidly pumping away the clouding effects of the
drink, Samantha pulled off her jumper. The man was standing too far away for her to reach
his gun and so obedience and continued living were preferable to a futile attempt at
bravery. She guessed that they would probably kill her anyway but she could at least buy
time to think.
“Naked, please, hand me every garment,” the girl insisted when Samantha stood in
her black bra and pants before them; the girl had felt every inch of her skirt and
jumper.
There had been an impassive silence from her two abductors as they watched her
completely undress. Having to hand the girl her tiny, still warm, strips of underwear for
her to touch and smirk over was almost as bad as the shouting of her Korean guards on her
capture now.
“Hands on head, open mouth wide. I sure you Western women like that anyway,” the
teenager had smiled cruelly. The girl seemed to take a savage delight in shaming her,
poking fingers in her mouth to nearly choke her, holding and bouncing her bare breasts
when she obviously had nothing concealed.
“Now lean back against the doorframe, legs and arms wide and I search more
thoroughly - down below.” Samantha could hear a hint of excitement in the girl’s voice.
The man with the gun was obviously a professional, staying out of reach.
Reluctantly, Samantha assumed the degrading position, which rendered her helpless. She
bit her lip as the hands trailed through her long dark hair and down each notch of her
spine to the enticing swelling of her backside.
“Ugh,” she had gasped as the girl's slim fingers intruded between her cleft and
into the tight puckered heat.
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