PART 1 - CAPTURE
CHAPTER 1
Invasion
The view from the Tavern takes in several of the smaller islands that make up our
beautiful little archipelago. Situated in the little harbour town twenty or so miles away
from our own little mountain retreat at the time our tale begins, it was as usual very
busy at the month’s end, when locals and holidaymakers alike visited to buy supplies.
From all sides one might hear shouts and the babble of conversations in different
tongues and accents. Before World War II the islands had been a French Colony, the two
local languages being a local derivative of Vietnamese and a bastardized form of French;
though nowadays one might also commonly hear most European languages being spoken.
The sea that day was calm, as it was most days at the height of the season. It was
evening and many locals were ambling along the boulevard, ancient motorbikes and cars all
jostling for space on the narrow road. In the harbour, a crowded ferry was busy pulling
out from the quayside. People were crowded cheek by jowl on board, mostly loaded with
boxes and bags after a successful day of shopping and gathering supplies.
Ana and I sat contentedly, after-meal drinks in hand, relaxing and casually
chatting as we had done here many times before. Our monthly shopping trip was completed
and we were looking forward to spending the night in the Tavern before heading for home in
the morning. As the sun slowly set, the boulevard became a buzz of activity with the
night-market traders setting up their stalls and locals and foreigners alike awaking from
their siestas.
We spent the whole of the evening here; just dancing, drinking, eating and
listening to music - a slightly over-enthusiastic local band played a very enjoyable
mixture of Latin, reggae, classic-rock and local folk songs. We chatted with a few old
friends who passed by, held hands under the table and sneaked the occasional kiss and
furtive caress.
Our room at the Tavern that night was basic, but it was clean and tidy and it
overlooked the sea. We both slept well - a beautiful deep sleep entwined in each other’s
arms, content with each other’s company.
It was still very early and not fully light as I emerged from sleep the next
morning. I remember it well, Ana was curled into my back, reaching round to clasp my
already erect cock. As I emerged into fuller consciousness, she began kissing my neck and
then moved slowly down my back, kissing and licking gently as she went. She had awoken in
a mischievous mood.
For a while I was happy to lie there while my passion rose, pretending to be asleep
and basking in the warm glow of her love. Within a few minutes, however, I had to abandon
the pretence; I turned on to my back allowing her to gently lick and suck the swollen head
of my cock.
It was too much. With a groan I lifted my hips, lying there in ecstasy as she took
my erection fully into her warm wet mouth. My breathing became heavier but still I did
nothing except savour the pleasure she was giving.
A few minutes of this and I was ready to explode into her throat but Ana sensing my
pending climax abruptly abandoned my cock and moved up my body to my chest, kissing and
licking as she went. Then our lips met and I grabbed her tightly giving her a long and
passionate French kiss.
I rolled over on top of her, nudged her legs open with my knee and placed my cock
in the crease of her labia whilst sucking and biting gently at her beautifully erect
nipples until she was gasping and writhing in an upward journey to orgasm.
I moved down her body kissing her stomach until I reached the triangular patch of
pubic hair covering her mons. I skirted around this, teasingly , and moved down to the
insides of her thighs.
“Ooooooh!” she moaned, parting her legs as wide as they would go and arching her
body up towards my lips and tongue. I kissed her pussy very lightly, hardly touching her,
yet delighting in her wetness.
Throwing the sheets out of the way, I went down on her again, kissing her erect
clitoris, taking her near to climax before moving back up her beautiful body until our
lips met again.
“Bon jour, Cherie,” I whispered, as I broke the kiss.
“Ah, oui … good … good … morning, mon Cher,” came her breathless reply and her arms
tightened around my neck and her lips found mine again. Lying between her parted legs, my
throbbing erection nudged at her vagina; wet and hot. Gently I eased forward, parting her
labia slightly to ease into her soft wetness, slowly and inexorably until I could go no
further. Arching her body, she pressed firmly against me as I moved slowly and
rhythmically inside her tight slit, her perspiration, warm and sticky against my skin.
I loved it when Ana was like this - hot, horny and eager to fuck!
It was at this point that we first heard loud voices and some shouting out in the
corridor. Consumed by the moment, we ignored the commotion, going over the edge
simultaneously into our first climax of the day.
Then it happened!
‘BANG!’
What the hell was that? Unable to stop, I continued to empty myself into Ana’s
warm and wet love channel as several soldiers armed with rifles and sub-machine guns,
burst into our room. My first thought was to grab a sheet and pull it makeshift over us,
but with the soldiers pointing their guns menacingly, I just froze. They were shouting at
us in Chinese and we had no idea what they wanted.
We remained still, my cock buried deep inside Ana; not daring to move under the
threat of the guns. The interlopers jabbered unintelligibly between themselves as they
looked at us, and sensing that they were nervous too, I remained as I was, not wanting to
provoke them into the violence I could sense was lurking just below the surface.
My instinct for self-preservation, as ever, was proved right and slowly the
soldiers began to relax, laughing and making what were obviously a few rude comments as
they regarded us even more closely. Under me, I could feel Ana, frightened and tense, as
she buried her face in my shoulder.
The soldiers began prodding me with their bayonets, urging me to disconnect from
Ana, poking and prodding mercilessly at us both until we were standing side by side. More
soldiers entered the room shouting and talking in Chinese, then falling silent as they saw
us being lined up against the wall.
One of our original captors snarled something at us and with prods from his
bayonet, had us clasp our hands at the backs of our necks and stand upright with feet
placed widely apart.
It was a humiliating and terribly exposed position to hold, frightened and
embarrassed under the lewd gaze of the soldiers. Thankfully at a barked order from one I
assumed was a sergeant or corporal, we were passed some clothing. It was not much – my
own pyjama trousers for me; a pyjama top for Ana plus a tiny pair of wispy panties she
managed to grab from the dresser. We dressed quickly and were immediately ushered, hands
once more clasped at the backs of our necks, downstairs through the hotel lobby and into
one of several open-topped army trucks parked in the courtyard outside.
There seemed to be soldiers everywhere, both in the hotel and outside. The only
other civilians I could see were already in the back of our truck, half a dozen people I
recognised from the night before, all looking equally frightened and all in various stages
of undress. Four were men, three of them ex-pat Britons, and a middle-aged, visiting
American businessman. The other two were women; the American’s young wife and an English
girl tourist in her early twenties. The two girls were both in their nightdresses; a
diaphanous shortie for the Brit and a rather slinky satin number for the American.
Neither item of clothing did much to hide the considerable assets of both girls from view,
as was apparent from the frequent glances and looks from the guards. Like myself, the
male prisoners were bare chested and clad merely in pyjama trousers. All of us were
barefoot.
It had been raining overnight and in the early hours of the morning the air felt
unusually chilly. We prisoners huddled together fearfully for what warmth we might glean
from one another. Nobody said much, just a few whispers: “It’s the Chinese! Invaded in
the night! What the Hell do they want with us?”
“You OK?” I whispered to Ana furtively.
“What is happening, Richard? Where are they taking us?” she whispered back,
pale-faced and trying hard not to let me see how frightened she was.
“Not sure, but it’ll be all right. You’ll see!” We held hands and with that, the
truck started up.
Just then, two soldiers armed with sub-machine guns climbed up over the tailgate to
sit with us. “No talk!” warned one of them in harshly accented English.
Swiftly, we were driven through the deserted town and out into the countryside. We
were heading south, the opposite direction from where we lived. There were no locals to
be seen, and soldiers seemed to be everywhere; in army trucks, jeeps or on foot. Where we
didn’t see soldiers, the streets were empty. My mind raced, reflecting on how the Chinese
had occupied the southern part of our island a few years back. It had been a bloodless
invasion of what they claimed to be their own territory and nobody in the outside world
had lifted a finger to stop it.
In the early years of occupation, we had feared that the north of the island,
regarded somewhat loosely as an ‘international’ zone, might also fall under their thrall;
but as time passed and nothing happened, it was presumed the invaders had no interest in
our part of the island – it had no significant resources or obvious strategic value – and
we fell into what was no doubt a mis-placed complacency, for now it seemed we were
prisoners of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army.
The truck rolled on, passing through village after deserted village. We stopped
briefly for fuel at an Army fuel dump, then on again.
At one checkpoint, a very attractive local girl - the locals here are Asiatic but
slightly darker skinned, more akin to the peoples of Vietnam than the paler-skinned
Chinese - was pushed into the back of our truck. She was dressed in a torn man’s shirt
that hardly covered her privates and looked confused and frightened - as were we all, of
course. Before she sat down I was shocked to see a half-a-dozen or so reddening parallel
weals, as if from a cane or whip, traversing the sensuous curve of her bare bottom
cheeks.
The British and American girls looked ashen-faced at each other, aware that
something similar could happen to them. At least for the moment, they were allowed to
retain their nightwear, ineffective even as this was to protect their modesty. Everyone
knew how the Chinese treated their female captives.
Past this checkpoint the scenery changed and we entered a much larger village –
almost a small town - where there were more locals on the streets. I guessed that we had
crossed the old border into “occupied” territory. Life here looked relatively normal, as
if the people had become used to occupation by a foreign power.
Where were we heading? The question repeated in my mind for we had all heard
stories regarding prisoner camps in the occupied zone. Work camps almost certainly
existed but the rumours of sex camps that operated for the entertainment of the Chinese
elite had always seemed far-fetched to me. I guessed we would find out soon…
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