Chapter 1

 

My name is Dale Somers and I am a gymnast. Oh, that's not my job. Actually I am a gardener but gymnastics is my love and my boss is so keen a supporter that she not only gives me time off to compete all over the world but helps in financing my fares, etc.

I had been competing in Tokyo and had come to the attention of Okura Kageharu, the twenty-four year old only son of a Japanese billionaire. Apparently he delights in blonde, blue-eyed western athletes and I qualified on all counts. He invited me out to dinner and I found him courteous and gracious, his English faultless (he had been educated at Oxford) and his manners quite charming-until the end of the evening when he invited me to bed him.

I am a middle-class nineteen year old girl from Middlesex and I didn't bed strange men even when they had wined and dined me in style. He just nodded, smiled and bid me goodnight. But if I had understood the Japanese better, I would have seen the signs and known I was in deep trouble. I didn't, however and later than night, I was snatched from my room in the middle-of-the-range hotel.

My kidnappers were professionals. They entered my room easily and unobtrusively, and had injected my arm with a drug all before I really realised they were there. The drug was of the type that didn't knock me out but turned me into a simpering and most acquiescent fool. I therefore had no resistance to them ordering me to dress and accompany them out of the room, down the service lift to the now empty service area (they checked it out before leading me through) and out the back and into their car.

We drove to the deserted waterfront and boarded a large and beautiful ocean-going motor yacht (which immediately got under way) and they escorted me to the saloon where waited Okura and with him was a much older man. They had been talking in Japanese but now that I was present, changed it to English. "So, my little English flower, you are here...?"

I was still under the influence of the drug but was now coming out of it and asked him, as calmly as I could, why I was there.

"Ah, my so handsome and athletic Dale, you made a grave mistake in refusing me your body. And so I have brought you here to my father's yacht to take you to our tiny private island in the East China Sea..." He paused then, and his handsome face broke into a grin. But that expression had no mirth in it. None at all. Instead, it bespoke anger-and triumph.

"You are going to regret spurning me, girl, for your life is now changed. Changed irrevocably and for ever. You are now my slave. And you are not going to like what that involves one little bit..."

He turned to his father and said some words in Japanese and the older man then addressed me: "A mere girl does not insult me or my family, slut. Our island is so small and so inaccessible that we have no visitors we do not wish to welcome. No-one saw you leave the hotel but it will be noted that you must have dressed in outdoor clothes and left your night things on your bed, so it will be assumed you went out to meet someone-and did it unobtrusively, somehow bypassing the front desk, so perhaps you did not want your meeting to be noticed."

He then turned back to his son and remarked, still in English, "But isn't she rather overdressed for a slave?"

Okura now grinned broadly and barked some orders to the men who had brought me here. They saluted him briefly and acknowledged their acquiescence in that short gruff way the Japanese people have, and then turned to me, tearing off my jacket, then dragging my tracksuit pants down and off my feet, and with them, my shoes. I now had just my bra and panties left and they soon followed suit despite all my efforts to resist them.

I now stood up naked before them all: Okura, his father, Yoritomo Kageharu and the two goons all looked me over lecherously and I shuddered as I realised that they, probably all of them, were going to fuck me, use my body as they wished and, as I thought back to the reported activities of the Kempeitai, the dreaded secret police of the World War II era, I shuddered in fear and revulsion.

Okura now moved up to me and ordered me to assume the Position of Inspection. I had no idea what that was and so he slapped my face-hard-and told me I was an ignorant slut. "You spread your feet a half metre apart," he explained. "You raise your hands and clasp them behind your head and pull your elbows right back to expose your udders to us. You fix your eyes on a spot on the far wall and you don't move them from it ... and then you flex and relax in rotation, every muscle in your body!" He paused a moment and then went on: "Do it!"

I didn't, at least not fast enough and one of the goons now stepped up and thrust a prodder into my now naked sex. Do you know what these things are? They were originally designed to prod cattle along with a high-voltage static charge between two electrodes touched to the cow's hide. The model the goon used was devised for use on human slaves (voluntary or kidnapped) and comprised a handle that contains the battery and electronic works, a fifteen centimetre rod and at the end, the electrodes, looking rather like the tines on a carving fork. And they pack a horrible punch.

"Aaaeeeooowwwaaaggghhheee," I screamed, as the shock surged into my vagina and immediately assumed the position ordered. He smiled thinly and then moved closer to me, now reaching out to examine my body in minute detail.

He started with my cheeks and stared into my eyes as his soft fingers caressed them softly. "I was going to make wonderful love to you, my so lovely little athlete. Now, you are going to endure the fires of hell for spurning me..."

His hands then dropped to my breasts and now while he began with simply stroking them and cupping them in his warm hands, he then gripped them hard, squeezing them painfully and mauling them brutally while I cried out in pain.

"Yes, scream, my little English gymnast. Scream in pain for it is going to get worse ... much worse."

His hands then moved all over my body, checking out my firm muscles, which he clearly delighted in-until he came to my sex. And then they retracted as if stung by a wasp. "Ugh," he cried. "Horrible!"

I stared at him in confusion (forgetting his instruction not to move my eyes from the point on the opposite wall) and he pounced. "Cane her! Hard! Ten strokes..."

The other goon grinned in pleasure, produced a long supple rattan cane and proceeded to do just that while I stood there, held firmly by the prodder-wielding goon but still able to jump about as that horrible stick lashed into my buttocks repeatedly until all ten strokes were delivered, by which time I was wailing in pain.

Okura and his father were smiling however. Both had watched the punishment with eager relish and I realised, with a sickening thud, that they were both highly sadistic and were going to enjoy my future punishments immensely.

The punishment over, Okura returned to the subject of his distaste. Apparently it was the hairs at my vulva that were so distressing to him. I had no knowledge of Asian sensibilities then but he soon set me to rights. "You western women have no conception of the ugliness of a hairy cunt..." Yes, he actually said that word.

And now he grinned with another expression of relish that told me I was in for more pain. I was right. "Well, we are going to rectify that situation, right now." He paused and turned to the two men, barking another order to them that I assume was to bring me along.

We moved down a deck or two to a sort of clinic although this one was also used as a torture room for slaves, that much was obvious from some of the equipment there and the implements in the glass-fronted cupboards around the room.

I was forced down onto the gynaecological chair and my extremities affixed to manacles that kept it relatively secure. They then rotated various wheels that straightened it into a flat bed and stretched my limbs out into a St Andrew's cross (that is, a long 'X').

And then the goons armed themselves with a pair of tweezers each and proceeded to pluck out all the hairs they could find, all over my body. Like most women these days, I keep my pubic area trimmed and shave my underarms and legs but I hadn't done so for a few weeks and those latter areas now needed it. They didn't get their shave however, for the men plucked out the short hairs there, too.

Painful? You'd better believe it. They, all of them, wanted me to feel pain and those two muscle-bound goons made sure I did, plucking incessantly my pubic area first, and then every other hairy spot they could find. It went on and on and with each passing moment, the pain multiplied, almost exponentially. I moaned and then the moans turned into screams as the hours passed-for it took that long, and during that 'treatment', I could feel the ship's speed increasing. The engines were vibrating more and were louder and I realised from that and from the ship's motion that we were now out at sea. My heart plummeted as I recognised it was now extremely unlikely that I could hope for any rescue-even if anyone yet realised I was missing, which was also most unlikely.

The plucking just went on and on and every part of my body that had previously boasted hairs was now one whole sea of agonising pain.

And to make it worse, the two men's coarse fingers constantly roved all over my body, stroking, pinching, caressing and fondling it all over, but my breasts and my now nude vulva particularly, while Okura and his father watched in silent approval.

I wasn't silent through all of this, either, abusing the pair of them and calling them for everything-until Okura got tired of it and nodded to one of the goons who again thrust his electronic prodder into my vagina-at which I arched up off the table, my voice box now paralysed by the agony of those shocks to probably the most sensitive part of my body.