THE SEARCHER / CAMP OF ANGELS - PART 2
CHAPTER 2
So this was death; just an all-embracing silent blackness Rosemary reasoned, no
reuniting with the departed, just - nothing! Then she jerked awake to the same
silence and darkness in which she seemingly forever existed.
She had at first been relieved when Leilla finally returned and she
could slump to the floor relaxing her posture from the Arab's games.
"Soon you'll go somewhere safe until we're sure no one is following you;
you might have more tricks up your sleeve," Leilla had remarked mockingly.
At least though they had released her feet from under wrists; allowing
her the luxury of moving her legs, walking unsteadily at first, to restore her
circulation. There was also the bliss of being able to stretch and moving her
aching jaws after the gag had been removed - although they had forbidden her to
make a sound on pain of it being restored. She had thus been good, as silent as
a mouse despite her inner feelings of helpless rage. Mrs Leilla had kept her
lovely new green dress, instead returning in to the villa in tee-shirt and jeans
- whilst she was still allowed no clothing. Then she had reason to doubt that
initial relief.
At first, although preferring a beer or whisky, she had been moderately
grateful to be allowed wonderful cool water, and bread and rice. This was
despite her hands still being bound and the Arab hand-feeding her. He had
treated her like a child, making her chew thoroughly, and wiping her mouth.
Sitting at a table she had felt almost civilised.
"Sorry there is no wine," Mrs Leilla remarked sarcastically.
It made tears well up in Rosemary's eyes, recalling how she and Damien
had planned a meal and a bottle of wine in her hotel room this night. She
wondered what he was doing now!
Then the Arab woman took her to the lavatory.
"You are going somewhere where such basic necessities will be difficult
and so I advise you to make the most of this opportunity girl," she had spat
demeaningly.
Rosemary had never completed her toilet under scrutiny but her
apprehension assisted her. She simply had to shut her mind to the woman's hands
wiping her afterwards.
It was dark when they had moved her from the villa although Rosemary was
scarcely aware of that. Her feet had been bound again, then the Arab had pulled
her helpless body against him, the hard lump in his trousers pressing obscenely
against her bare bottom. Her confined wrists twitched ineffectively against the
creep's belly as Leilla slowly advanced with the horribly familiar gag.
"Goodnight Mrs Peterson," she smiled before her lips descended
unnaturally.
Rosemary was broadminded, in fact enjoyed sexual adventures, but such
was her hatred for the woman that she certainly didn't relish being kissed by
her and turned her mouth away. However, the woman's talons, cruelly pinching
the thrusting red tips of her breasts made her mouth open in a gasp of pain.
"Be nice to me Mrs Peterson, respond properly, I'm the only friend you
have, or maybe you would prefer the attentions of the gentleman?" her eyes had
flicked to the Arab's sweating jowls nuzzling her neck.
Then Rosemary had allowed the woman's lips to close gently over hers.
At least her breath was sweet and her tongue sliding sensuously over hers made a
shiver softly in her fluttering belly. The kiss was seemingly endless, taking
her mind off the disgusting erection thrusting against her Buttocks and the
man's hands holding her thighs. She was almost disappointed when it ended, her
mouth unconsciously thrusting forward to maintain it.
"No more for now child," Mrs Leilla crooned, stroking the blonde
tresses, "but I see that you will be good material to work with later."
Before Rosemary could make any kind of response the fingers again
painfully tweaked her nipples but this time the smelly gag was pushed into her
straining mouth. Then they had rolled her unceremoniously up into a carpet and
carried her out, trussed like a turkey, to what felt like a van.
The journey seemed to last about an hour and then continued slowly over
rough ground making her bounce and roll helplessly. Then she had been folded
and draped over the Arab man's shoulders whilst he carried her on foot. When
she was finally rolled out again she lay in the middle of a wood. Before her
was a grave-length, hole in the ground, although perhaps not so deep. Within it
the van's lights showed there to be a lined coffin with sack-fulls of earth and
a small log fastened to its open lid.
"Your new accommodation for awhile Mrs Peterson," Mrs Leilla smiled
cruelly, "I hope it's to your liking, my bedroom as a child was scarcely any
bigger - but then you Westerners wouldn't care about that," she snorted. "A
snorkel and fan arrangement within the log will keep you supplied with air, but
if we see or discover anyone has been prowling around, trying to find you, we'll
just leave you here." She smiled cruelly into Rosemary's wide eyes as she was
lowered into the cool depths of the earth. "Good night."
Mrs Leilla's breezy wave was Rosemary's last sight before the lid
slammed shut with deep, ominous finality. The last sounds she heard were of
earth being emptied onto the roof of her tomb. Then descended total silence
apart from the background hum of a fan blowing damp air onto her belly.
She was alone unable to move or scream.
After an initial heart-pounding panic attack she calmed slightly. Time
soon lost all meaning.
Had Damien discovered something and followed? Would they thus leave her
here to die? Maybe some lovers or kids might stroll here. Mrs Leilla might
think they were looking for her? Head and chest pounding again with panic,
Rosemary managed to get her breathing under control, angrily stopping that line
of thought.
She could rub the transmitter. But would it work underground? She
suspected not. Should she try though? If so, she might save herself but blow
any chance of rescuing Penny. As they seemed to know who she was, and thus her
connection with Penny, they might even kill Penny if she escaped from this!
She resolved to try the transmitter only as a very last resort.
More time passed, endless time.
She slept fitfully and grew thirsty, also now wanting to pee but holding
back. How long had she been here?
It was cold and damp. Thoughts of Edgar Allen Poe's books about being
buried alive, which she recalled reading as a child, came back to her.
Shuddering, she strained again at her bonds. It was useless, they didn't give
an inch. And even if she had somehow broken free she was still buried
underground alone in the dark.
She decided to count to ten thousand and then rub the transmitter. At
twelve thousand she decided to hold on, count to another twenty thousand before
seeing if the transmitter worked.
-----------------------------------
Now she had lost all sense of time, and counting, forgetting what she
was supposed to do when she had finished. Where was she? Dreaming or awake?
She knew now that she had been left here to die; no one was coming.
Panic set in. Clenching her belly she decided she would soon have to release her
bladder, what would it matter! But she had a method of getting help; what was
it? Just as she remembered the transmitter again the faint sound of moving
earth above her stopped her.
It was her husband's wonderful, handsome face bending over her, he had
found and rescued here; but what now about Penny? Jerking fully awake again she
was almost pleased to see the Arab man and Leilla's smirking faces outlined by
moonlight.
"Wakey wakey, time to get up and earn us a living, Mrs Peterson."
It must have been the following night, the bastards had buried her for
24 hours alone in the woods! After they had pulled her from the coffin and
untied her cramped legs she thankfully squatted before them in steaming bliss.
Modesty belonged to her past life, she was quite oblivious to their mocking
smiles.
Greedily she drank from a water bottle and nibbled the bread they fed
her. Then she was rebound and once again rolled unceremoniously into the carpet
for the van to bounce her off to its next destination.
Was she still buried, had she died?
She shook herself awake again, remembering she was simply a helpless
pawn being bounced around the country - her own will or wishes counting for
nothing. Maybe though she would now meet Penny, her heart raced. The van's
endless journey had been broken an hour ago only by what felt like another
silently squirming carpet being dumped alongside her own. Perhaps it was Penny?
Finally, after another hour or so the noisy engine fell silent, doors
banged open and she felt herself lifted by a pungently sweating body and carried
some distance into a building to be dumped like a lump of meat onto a hard
floor. Then fragile hands like fluttering butterflies eased her cramped body
from the hot confinement of the carpet. To her surprise they belonged to a
delicate flower of a young Chinese girl. She fluttered and twittered,
apologising.
"Oh so, sorry, it must be terrible for you both. Why they bring new
people like this I don't know. All this security."
Rosemary silently agreed, her parched mouth bulging around her gag
unable to make any coherent response. But her eyes, blinking in the sudden
light, took in a second Chinese girl easing a beautiful, slightly-olive-skinned
girl with shoulder length brown hair from the other carpet. Her heart sank, her
fellow passenger, like herself as naked as a baby, was not Penny.
They were in a large cool office containing word-processors, cabinets
and various items of office equipment.
"We expect you for little while now," continued the sing-song high
pitched Oriental voice. "I untie legs, then not so bad now eh?"
"Ah." Rosemary and her companion gasped in pain as cramped muscles again
took their weight. Although their wrists remained bound the two Chinese girls
supported their shoulders, guiding them limping and wincing around the room
until their circulation began to return.
"Sorry, we no allowed untie properly yet until boss see you," the girls
apologised, "we all have to obey orders. Soon we get nasty gags out and give you
little drink."
Rosemary was grateful to the tiny girl who gently massaged some feeling
back into her tingling legs until finally she could once again stand
unsupported, albeit unsteadily.
She saw her pretty companion wince as she too had life rubbed back into
her limbs. The other bound girl was probably slightly younger than herself and
Rosemary found herself staring almost hypnotized at her small, red-nippled,
breasts bouncing erotically as the Chinese girl vigorously rubbed her thighs.
The yellow hands moved almost sensuously over the well-toned olive flesh. They
pushed up, maybe unnecessarily high and thoroughly, into the soft triangular
down at the enticing apex to the slender thighs, making her companion struggle
uselessly. But she was powerless to prevent those small hands roving at will.
Rosemary too was unable to prevent herself squirming a little as the
slim fingers glided over her, now squeezing and kneading her aching buttocks in
a not unpleasant way, sending tingles into her. Her thoughts strayed again to
Penny. Had she too been brought here a few weeks ago? Was she maybe nearby,
still within this place?
"I explain situation before removing gags," the Chinese girl resumed.
"You both here in international training camp, a love camp. It teach people
from many countries ways of new trade. You then entertain rich men and women
living in or visiting this country. Camp originally built over here, funded by
our Chinese Government to serve another purpose. Then cold war end, but several
of my country-people still here, married to locals, a little Chinese community
in nearby village. But beware, they not so easy-going as me."
The brown-haired girl moaned under her gag and both bound women looked
at each other for support in confused wide-eyed apprehension before the Chinese
continued her introduction.
"Don't forget you all here to serve sentences because you do bad things,
but in many ways this better than prison. If you please, you might earn money
after sentence complete."
"Gragghhh," the captives spluttered. However, the Chinese ignored the
womens' muffled protests through the gags.
"You here for few weeks or months training, as an alternative to prison.
You learn self-discipline and obedience, how to properly satisfy gentlemen and
ladies. When they think you ready, you go on parole to owners in community -
they keep you till your sentences served. Sometimes girls then choose stay on -
get paid to entertain, can get good money. People come to camp, observe
prisoners training, maybe decide whether they take them on parole. Mostly women
trained here, but some men too.
"Pleeeeshh," Rosemary's companion implored through her gag.
"No keep protesting, it forbidden here, you bad girls. Learn discipline
or get punished," the Chinese lightly smacked her shapely bottom making her
squirm indignantly. "You do all you told pretty damn quick. They discipline like
prison - but pleasure too, they call you 'Love Angels.' They give short white
dresses to wear here, very pretty, make you look like angels. You always call
attendants 'Sir' or 'Miss,' and never tell anyone real name, they give new name
here, always use it. Hidden cameras and microphones, know everything you do.
Just do everything told, straight away, train quick, be good angels then
released on parole to one of the rich families here, then maybe things not so
bad."
Rosemary's shoulders slumped in despair. Instead of finding herself in
something like a brothel with Penny, she was in fact still no nearer to finding
her sister. If newcomers passed through this camp within a few weeks Penny
might by now have completed her 'training,' and have been sent to some rich
bastard's house. It was indeed nothing more than white slavery, she decided.
And she couldn't ask anyone about her sister because they probably wouldn't even
know her name! Resigned, she realised that she would simply have to endure this
place, hope she got through it as quickly as possible, until she could catch up
with her sister!
Rosemary savoured the wine-sweet water from the plastic beaker the
Chinese girl held to her grateful mouth. The smelly rag which had gagged her
for the last several hours was a soggy ball at her feet but her mouth still
stung from the brisk removal of the tape which had held it firmly in place.
She was wondering when her wrists would be released when the door
crashed open. Instinctively she sucked in her breath as a huge black
man-mountain, with handsome, chiselled and maybe slightly Oriental, features,
strolled in. He was elegantly attired in a white suit, pink tie and carrying a
parasol; and aged somewhere she guessed in his thirties. His fine clothing
contrasted with her complete nudity. Blushing profusely, she longed for her
wrists to be untied, to cover herself from his frank appraisal.
He held her startled gaze with a pair of narrow yet not unfriendly eyes,
seemingly out of place in such circumstances. For a moment Rosemary thought she
saw a flash of something there. Was it perhaps, concern for her or even
admiration? It was gone in a second and Rosemary would never know. Then her
gaze flitted like a frightened squirrel to the others who had entered with him.
In attendance was a Negress who looked to be in her early twenties. She had a
large muscular body, like a gladiator, and an almost angular face beneath short
tight black curly hair. In contrast, she looked cruel and spiteful, her eyes
flashing disdainfully at them. Beside the pair were two similarly muscular Arab
lads in green fatigues in their late teens standing respectfully to one side.
She recognised one as the car's chauffeur, Mr Garth.
If her hands had been free Rosemary would have covered her shivering
nudity which contrasted so starkly with the elegant fully dressed figures. She
mentally squirmed as the four pairs of eyes casually examined her exposed body,
yet she found it strangely and perversely exciting to be so helplessly at their
whim. A contrast to her accustomed position of control back in her normal life.
The Negro tried to keep his feelings hidden when he met new girls but it
was difficult in this case. The English blonde was exceeding beautiful and her
face, although frightened and flushed, held a certain determined quality; his
loins tightened. He didn't know her precise crime, those details were left to
his underlings and agents, but he understood it was something to do with a
broken contract and entering the country under a false name. Such a fine
creature could not be a hardened criminal, he surmised, and he was almost
tempted to make her his own when her sentence was up and they had made their
money from her.
The brown-haired girl next to her, also ineffectively trying to turn her
body away from his stare, was good too. The sight of the Chinese girls holding
the prisoners, their arms draped around the bound girls, holding and touching
their curves with utter possession, made his loins stir. It was a succulent
white feast spread before him.
He made a circling movement with his hands and the captive women were
slowly turned around to present an equally delectable rear view. The Chinese
girls even lifted the bound hands so that they concealed nothing from the
sensuous arched dip of the spines to the swelling hour-glass promise of the
shapely buttocks. He imagined his hands holding those magnificent globes,
fingers delving between them to probe the tight heat of their bottoms whilst he
pumped into the silken depths. Soon he hoped, he wouldn't have to rely just on
imagination!
When the blonde was again facing him he moved closer, the hard erect
buds of her nipples were practically brushing his rock-like chest. Gooseflesh
sprung out on her shivering body and, flushing a deeper hue, she stared at her
bare feet. He lifted her chin so that she had to look at him, her eyes anxious
and wide. Her skin was soft and smooth, and he could feel her rapid breath
fluttering warmly against his hand. Over the pulse of her slim throat his
fingers brushed downwards, cupping the magnificent breasts, gently thumbing the
red buds to an even greater hardness, feeling her push slightly against him.
Her lips parted in a silent moan, maybe of frustration, her pupils too were
enlarged with desire when his hands finally left her and he stood back.
"I am Mr Sampson. Welcome to my 'Camp Love;' a camp of angels - you are
now my angels. I believe my colleagues have outlined this as an alternative to
prison, but I hope your stays will be ... enjoyable ladies. Of course you will
let me know if you have any problems."
"P-please," stammered the other girl with a trace of an Italian accent,
'there has been a mistake, I shouldn't be here. My name is Lindsey Wand, I-I
was only a little disrespectful to a policeman who arrested me for drunkenness
after a celebration in the restaurant where I work in the capital, Mahon. I was
offered this as an-an alternative parole but no one told me ..."
"I shouldn't be here either," joined in Rosemary to support Lindsey,
maybe preventing her getting into trouble, also as a cover to give what she
guessed to be plausible reaction by a new recruit. "I come from England and,
signed a contract with the Lavery entertainment company, my name is..."
"Quite, quite ladies," interrupted the Negro with a deep sigh, raising
his hands, before the Negress beside him did. "Miss Mitzie here will I am sure,
look into these things as necessary. I now have other matters to attend to," he
spoke over his shoulder as he left with one of the Arab guards. "I'll leave you
in her capable hands."
Rosemary was soon enough to realise that no-one would ever-ever wish to
be left in Mitzie's hands!
Crack, crack!
The Negress lashed out with a hand as hard as a plank to deliver two
stinging, teeth-rattling slaps, forehand and backhand, to each of the two
startled women. With their pinioned arms held firmly by the Chinese girls they
could only gasp, absorbing the stinging shock and pain, their ears singing
wildly. Tears began to trickle down over the two red hand-prints splayed across
the whiteness of their quivering cheeks more used to the gentle touch of make-up
and skin creams than a harsh slap.
"How dare you white cows ever f---ing speak to Mr Sampson, or indeed any
staff member without prior permission and without addressing him correctly,"
Mitzie spat at the two with acid venom. "I can see you two have a lot to learn
about your new status... and we are going to start right now."
The two wide-eyed women dejectedly sniffed back further tears, their
spirits sinking, realising their terrible predicament, regretting the actions
which had put them here.
"You both broke the law. One assaulted a policeman and the other entered
the country under false pretences. You will now, my little pets, learn the
folly of your ways. But after training and discipline to knock any rebellious
stupidity out of you, you will indeed both be entertainers. You will provide
visual entertainment to those who pay to visit the camp as guests; and later
offer a more intimate entertainment to whoever takes you into their personal
custody on parole. For the duration of your sentences you are ours.
Call-girls, prostitutes, whatever you choose to call yourselves, you are to all
intents and purposes both now slaves, effectively owned by others; nothing more.
We have arrest warrants to prove it, and there is also the small print on the
Lavery contract. It's all above board in this country I can assure you, and
possibly preferable to a minimum two years in the normal prison rat-holes they
use for foreigners in this country."
"Please," Lindsey whispered, "we ... ."
"Silence!" roared Miss Mitzie, her bellowing tone making both women
flinch. She ignored their sniffing sobs as she continued her speech of welcome.
"In theory you may go when your sentences are up but in practice that does not
always happen," she added ominously. 'We will have spent a considerable time in
training you to your new trade which does not come cheap. But there is also
money to be made by yourselves afterwards, put your skills to good use eh."
The soft chiselled cheeks of the captives were both still smarting but
at least the Chinese girls, who it seemed were the office staff, then obeyed
Mitzie's order to cut the plastic twines which bound their hands behind them.
Rosemary thankfully regained the use of her arms, rubbing life back into her
throbbing, numb flesh. Instinctively she arched her back to relieve the aching
strain of her posture before realising how it thrust her bare breasts into the
gloating, smirking eyes of the Negress and the young Arab guard, Garth.
"Now we'll start training, knock all nonsense out of your white hides -
knock you into f---ing shape," Mitzie declared.
"Tenshun!" she suddenly barked into their wide, blinking eyes. "Backs
straight, tits out, bellies in, arms by your sides, eyes front, no moving, no
talking. I want to see two silent statues. You certainly do not cover
yourselves, you display here. Anyway, you two haven't got anything special,"
she lied, "certainly nothing we haven't all seen before," she added perhaps
more truthfully. "Stick those tits right out, point them at me as if you want me
to feel them, make me want to suck them."
Mitzie allowed no sign of her excitement or amusement near her stern
face as the two women shyly assumed the required, but obviously so unnatural to
them, positions, with a few guiding prods from herself. Then she studied two
dossiers handed her by the Chinese girls, occasionally looking deliberately,
scornfully up into the tense, yet pretty faces. Sometimes she would read out
loud some detail about their previous lives which she found amusing, the
memories making the women blink with emotion - contrasting with their present
predicament - before she continued to read silently to herself, taking her time.
The files contained details and also photographs of the new prisoners
who stood before her in their beautiful flesh. She had no particular feelings
about them, it was simply her job to break them down and knock them into shape,
to make them instantly obedient and compliant ready to receive the instructions
in how to please Lavery's well-heeled customers. However, no one could deny
their beauty trembling before her. Their breasts, now obediently thrust forward
to attention, bounced with their heavy breathing. Impishly she circled all four
delightful red buds, feeling them swell under her skilful manipulations, sensing
their wish to brush her intrusive hands away - but not daring to.
"Now hands on head, lace your fingers behind your neck, don't move 'em.
Legs apart - wider - wider," she insisted as they reluctantly shuffled their
feet wide apart, now blatantly wide, the oyster-like lips of their sexes just
visible below their downy triangles. "That's good; that's what I expect every
time," she nodded.
"Huh!" The grunt was torn from Rosemary as one of Mitzie's large black
hands unexpectedly pressed upwards into her soft portals, making her jump back
in shock.
Crack!
The other hand immediately delivered another vicious slap, making the
blonde press a hand to the new imprint on her cheek over which a fresh tear was
rolling.
"Back in position, cow, you do not move when you are graced with such a
touch, you are here to be touched - and to touch," she snapped, pulling
Rosemary's arms back to her head, lightly tapping the trembling thighs until
they were again sufficiently wide.
Holding her victim's fearful, wide green eyes with her own glinting jets
of cruelty she slowly, deliberately again raised her palm into the soft portals
of love, open in unwanted invitation. Her black fingers extended, they furrowed
like chocolate flakes against the white, fluttering skin. The blonde's sex felt
delicious, a few stray strands of fur tickling as she pressed upwards, feeling
the delicate, inverted valley under its silken folds. She also felt the moist
heat. Her eyes opened wider, quizzically as Rosemary's fluttered downwards with
shame.
"You maybe enjoy a woman's touch?" she declared. "I hope so, that will
assist your training to be useful to either sex, meaning less effort for us and
less unpleasantness for you."
Lindsey received similar attentions, her eyes, Like Rosemary's staring
bleakly ahead, although she too was unable to deny the effect on her body. Her
hips jerked imperceptibly under the exploration and her tiny pink tongue briefly
circling her generous lips.
Ignoring the now heavy breathing of her victims, Mitzie ceased her
skilful attentions and resumed reading the dossiers. She drank deeply from a
bottle of lager which, with their rich, Western, backgrounds, she was sure they
would have loved to share with her. They would, however, soon become accustomed
to pure water.
Mitzie had a well-paid job and did it extremely well. Probably her
upbringing in the tough slum streets of the North African town where she was
born nearly thirty years ago helped. One had to be tough to survive and she
took a pride in her toughness and somewhat despised the inherent weakness of the
inmates of the camp. Whatever the fragile reasons for them breaking the law
their main offence was in getting caught and into the positions in which they
now found themselves. Still, she thought, even if they didn't arrive tough,
they would certainly leave as very different people. Their re-christening
under the 'Boy Named Sue' principle helped she thought.
"Your name is now 'Trixie', " she finally announced to Rosemary, and you
are now Dixie," she told Lindsey. She smiled at the normal effect of such a
loss of identity on a new prisoner, seeing the dark-haired beauty sniffing back
a tear. "Any use of your previous name will be dealt with severely; you will
lose skin off your shapely backsides if you forget," she announced, lightly
patting the presently deliciously smooth hindquarters of each rigid figure.
"Now - now, sweetheart no tears," she purred like a monstrous mother,
her powerful black arms encircling Lindsey's trembling white shoulders, easing
her sobs as she slumped from her rigid position. Mitzie shivered in delighted
contentment as the deliciously soft breasts against hers, shaking gently with
her emotion. Her hands slid down the sensuous bare curve of the Italian girl's
spine, gently patting her firm bottom. Seemingly unconsciously, Lindsey pressed
herself against Mitzie's muscled body, appearing to draw some comfort from the
strong arms enfolding her.
Rosemary still stood as positioned her hands clenching on her neck,
feeling almost jealous of the attention given to Lindsey. What was she becoming
she wondered? Here she was, a respectable married Englishwoman surely somehow
superior she thought to the average foreigner, yet standing completely naked
amongst foreign strangers. All and sundry could view her body and she had to
let them.
Why though she wondered did such thoughts cause a ripple of wicked
pleasure down her spine? Was she was almost missing the touch of the black
hands which now held and soothed her companion's sobbing shoulders. Perhaps
deep down she really wanted those thick black sensuous lips to tease her own as
they were now doing to Lindsey, or for the muscled thighs to press against her,
the knee easing against her downy portals? There was no doubting the expertise
of these people to give pleasure she thought. That was their job - to teach -
and her temporary purpose in life to learn she guessed!
However, as Miss Mitzie slowly eased Lindsey away, so her demeanour also
changed to one more businesslike again. Both girls stood side by side once
more, Lindsey again in identical posture to herself, the bare flesh of each,
trembling delicately.
"Fetch Miss Wang," Mitzie instructed one of the Chinese girls, "I'm
afraid these two infringed rules by speaking out of turn to Mr Sampson, and Miss
Wang always enjoys the initial welcome discipline for new angels."
Somehow Rosemary knew that events might now be taking a turn for the
worse and, despite the strange feelings of excitement at this adventure she also
hoped it would not be too long before she located Penny and could summon help.
CHAPTER 3
The Chinese girl was beautiful yet diminutive, with jet-black hair.
Rosemary and Lindsey were alone with her apart from the guard, Mr Garth. She
stood hands on hips arrogantly before them in a black leather cat-suit, her
pretty faced twisted into a frown. Despite being a teenager her demeanour was
that of a ferocious sergeant major.
"So, you are Trixie," her frown turned to a cruel, twisted grin as she
regarded Rosemary. "I am Miss Wang; you may regret being born. All orders
given here by your superiors such as me will be obeyed instantly," she snapped
then paused, almost inviting ant dissent. There was none. Her tiny eyes
glinted. "And you most certainly no speak without permission. I gather you both
already commit such a violation - and to Mr Sampson - which require punishment."
Apprehensively, they stood before the she-devil. They had still been
allowed no clothes and had to keep their hands vulnerably placed on their heads.
Their two pairs of breasts, uplifted with their posture and elegantly adorned
with their tight red buttons, pointed almost invitingly at their tormentor. The
Chinese girl seemed to take an obsessive interest in Rosemary; there was almost
a sense of jealousy in her manner as she peered at the blonde's superb curves.
Rosemary had difficulty tearing her eyes from the whip hooked into Miss
Wang's belt. It had a shiny wooden handle from which half a dozen thin black
thongs emerged. Each one was no more than 18 inches long but was knotted at
regular intervals. Both women shivered in dread imagining those vicious flails
scouring their bare flesh. Almost incongruously, the handle carried a neat
inscription in thin golden letters:
"To my beloved teacher, Miss Wang
Thank You,
Pixy"
Some poor predecessor of theirs had obviously tried to suck up to her
tormentor. Or maybe the woman was not as bad her first appearances?
"You now like raw recruits at army 'boot' camp," Miss Wang continued,
resting casually on a table one leg hooked over the other - in total contrast to
her rigid victims. "Regime here physically demanding - knock out the old lazy
capitalist ways, instill new outlook and pride in yourselves. Perhaps more
importantly you be taught how best please your eventual clients. Everyone is
'Sir' or 'Miss' to you and you never tell your real names. Punishments for any
infringements of rules include corporal punishment," Miss Wang explained with an
evil gleam in her bright eyes.
Rosemary felt hatred simmering for the bitchy little Chinese 'miss,' so
obviously relishing her position over them. However, was there not also, she
wondered, a sense of pride? Although the youngster was attractive, Rosemary
knew with wicked satisfaction that Miss Wang wasn't as beautiful as herself.
The extrovert surfaced within her as she inched her shoulders back a little
more.
She couldn't help recalling an incident with a Chinese girl several
years ago in the management company she ran before marrying Damien. Then it had
been she who held the power. It was with some considerable shame that she
occasionally recollected on how badly she had treated the girl, her icy sarcasm,
destroying the delicate creature's composure for a simple error. Then
dismissing her. It had certainly not been all deserved. She had called the
girl into her office for a dressing down, having her stand awkwardly, before her
desk, shifting from one foot to the other as she reclined in her swivel chair.
But she had, she knew deep inside, enjoyed that power. Just as Miss Wang
obviously did now, the roles more than totally reversed. Rosemary stood stiffly
before the youngster, a pawn at her mercy - apart from the secret concealed in
her mouth!
"Right you lazy Western cows, I make you sweat and I want see those fat
arses swing as I instil discipline."
Miss Wang was a young she-devil consisting of a wide screaming mouth
delivering obscenities through gleaming white teeth and a spray of spittle. The
monogrammed crop instinctively and knowledgeably sought out the most tender
parts of an anatomy in the pursuit and eradication of any errors, slacking or
lapses. She initially drilled the women in the required form of marching in
order that they could make their way to the punishment room in the correct
fashion.
The tanned handsome face of the young Arab, Garth, twitched into an
appreciative grin as the two newcomers were put through their paces. His openly
appraising eyes and low whistles added to the shame of the women. Within a short
period, however, both were both marching in a fairly orderly manner, this was
the stimulus of pain; no matter that they looked rather out of place. They
were more used to being pampered by men, wining, dining and dancing, working in
an office or keeping house. Now they marched in step, backs ramrod straight,
swinging stiff arms, bringing knees to the horizontal as they went.
Both were sophisticated Western women a couple of years older than
Garth. He licked his lips, a further tightening of his manhood becoming quite
evident as their lush bodies paraded before him. Their long hair lifted,
flowing and bouncing from smooth white shoulders, contrasting with their pretty,
red flushed faces. Beautiful buttocks jiggled with the military-style
movements, clenching whenever another thin red line of torment was added by Miss
Wang's crop, accompanied as always by a gasp from a gaping mouth desperately
trying to suck in air for the exertions.
"That no hurt - real hurt come later to break in," Miss Wang would snap
if they made too much fuss.
However, its attentions served to enforce Wang's iron will and instill
discipline. The straight backs and square shoulder posture also further
emphasised the beauty of the two pairs of breasts, tipped by hard red berries,
bouncing before Garth's eyes. The two shapely bodies were soon covered in a
thin sheen of perspiration from their exertions and his eyes narrowed in the
desire of youth.
"Maybe I sample these lush fruits," he smirked.
Suddenly, before she could react, he reached out to hold Rosemary's
bouncing bosoms as she marched on the spot before him, arms raised stiffly above
her head. His mouth closed over hers in a stolen, impish, kiss.
"Hold position, cow," Miss Wang snapped, raising her crop threateningly
as she squirmed.
Her face flushed with effort and shame, Rosemary continued marching,
secretly relishing the touch of his lips and her nipples brushing his uniform
with her movements. However, any possible mood was destroyed when he broke away
and Miss Wang joined in his laughter, the two youngsters enjoying their power
over their captives.
Finally, Wang was seemingly satisfied. She was behind the two panting
women, who stood rigidly to attention side by side. She too now cupped their
heaving breasts. Their flesh was smooth, the nipples firming even harder under
the almost gentle manipulations of her thumbs. Such was their awe of her and
the regime in which they found themselves that they now barely flinched. Then,
led by Garth, with Miss Wang in the rear, Rosemary and Lindsey marched through
numerous corridors to a gymnasium, the crop flicking their undulating bottoms if
they slackened. In addition to the normal wall-bars, weights etc the gymnasium
also contained an array of whips, pulleys and chains. The ingrained smell of
sweat was mingled with fear.
------------------------------------
Rosemary knew that the apprehension in the Italian girl's eyes was
similarly reflected in her own. She had never been whipped in her life but Miss
Wang had made each of them stand rigidly to attention again and confirmed that
they were to be punished for insulting Mr Sampson. It was a nightmare whirlwind
of pressure trying to assimilate a sudden whole new status and way of life. She
guessed correctly that no matter what they did, each new entrant would receive a
similar, painful introduction to the camp, one that would serve as a constant
reminder and lesson.
Firstly they were marched to a row of toilet cubicles at the rear of the
gym. They had no doors and the walls were only a metre high. Miss Wang invited
both women, before the audience of the Arab youth and herself, to perform any
necessary bodily functions before their punishment commenced! Although such an
action would before now have been unthinkable, they were now, aided by fear,
able to oblige. Lowered, crimson faces shielded by hands and hair, Rosemary and
Lindsey performed as quietly as possible into the spotless white toilet bowels,
before the amused eyes of their tormentors. Then, Garth took
her shaking arm and led her away. He bound her over a vaulting horse, her
wrists fastened to the widely spaced wooden legs on one side and her ankles to
those on the opposite side. Her legs were thus immodestly wide apart revealing
her velvet intimacies nestling between and below buttocks tightly rounded and
upthrust by virtue of a cushion having been pushed under her belly. With the
wide spacing of the vaulting horse's legs, and Rosemary's wrists and ankles
being fixed securely to their extremities, her body was pulled to full stretch
thus making it impossible to move her limbs. Totally helpless, she only had
freedom to raise her head from its inverted position, shaking it to clear the
cascade of golden hair to look into Lindsey's wide frightened eyes, identically
fastened facing her, scant inches away, almost nose to nose.
Rosemary saw Garth positioning himself behind Lindsey's (Dixie - she
corrected herself mentally) parted buttocks. With fearful dismay she saw the
numerous vicious knotted leather things which trailed from the well-worn wooden
handle of the purposeful whip. After measuring his intended stroke it appeared
from the startled look in the girl's eyes that he had simply patted her bottom.
Then he raised his powerful arm and brought it down in a long arc onto her
stretched skin. Rosemary lowered her head and closed her eyes as his arm
descended, unable to look any longer into the soft brown eyes inches from her
own as they blinked madly in terrible anticipation.
Swish, crack!
"Argghhh!"
Rosemary couldn't insulate herself from the Italian's high pitched whine
of agony as the numerous thongs of leather bit into her softness. The pitiful
sound made her jump with its heart-rending intensity and she once again opened
her eyes to Lindsey's gaping mouth, drawn back to reveal white teeth, her eyes
screwed tight shut, the tendons standing out in stark relief in her neck. Now
her mouth closed and the tortured girl drew in a hissing breath between clenched
teeth, shuddering as she tried to absorb the pain she was most obviously
feeling.
To her horror, Rosemary saw the young Arab leave his position and
casually begin heading towards her. He left her line of vision but she heard
his footfalls behind her. Her heart began racing, she had imagined that she had
a few more minutes before her ordeal began but it seemed that their punishments
would be interspersed simultaneously.
Garth waited expectantly, eyeing the exposed, straining flesh before
him. Rosemary's pink tongue flicked over dry lips as she saw Miss Wang,
standing to one side with folded arms, an amused smile on her face, nod to him.
She heard the rustle of cloth as he raised his arm, her muscles involuntarily
tensing. Then she jumped at the light pat of his large hand on her trembling
flesh, briefly feeling it's texture, gauging the distance of his stroke. As he
patted, his long index finger drifted between the cheeks of her bottom, into the
cool dark cleft and brushed over the puckered ring, which involuntarily
tightened under the unexpected touch. Her shoulders bunched, toes curled fists
clenched whitely and she was aware of the cheeks of her bottom clenching and
unclenching with dread.
Whoosh, crack!
Preceded by a faint whistle and swish Rosemary's world exploded into
jarring, searing agony. Nothing could have prepared her for the burning pain
eating into the hollowed curve of her lower back and upper buttocks. Raw flames
engulfed her body and her skin felt as if it was stretched too tightly over her
frame, sliced by white hot cheese-wires. She pulled mightily, the muscles
standing out like knots in her arms, desperately wanting to wrench her hands
free and crush them soothingly to her bottom to ease the burning pain. However,
there was not an inch of give in the harsh unyielding ropes which bound her
tightly to the horse. Someone was screaming and, with a shock of suddenly sore
vocal chords, Rosemary realised it was her. She closed her wide, aching, jaws,
breath whistling past her clenched teeth as she tried to absorb the excruciating
agony burning into her. Sagging as far as her tight bonds would permit and with
sweat beading on her body, panting, Rosemary blinked back salty tears.
Now Garth was, just as casually, strolling back to his position behind
Lindsey. Rosemary sobbed, wondering how someone so outwardly handsome and full
of mischief, someone who had impertinently stolen that kiss could now inflict
such pain with any obvious qualms? She had entered a whole new world here she
realised.
Time lost its normal meaning as the leather thongs descended over taut
white flesh. For Rosemary it was measured only by the varying intensity of what
felt like red-hot wire wires eating into her buttocks and back, and the length
of her screams.
Gradually, she became aware of a lessening of pain and her tear-brimmed
eyes focused to Miss Wang standing directly before her. The girl stooped to
grip her jerking her head up till she met the amused eyes of the young vixen.
"Like any more Trixie?" the Oriental was so calm and composed compared
to herself.
"No ... please ... Miss," Rosemary remembered to be respectful. She had
to be, no way could she endure any more.
"Quite sure, we can continue if you're not sure if you'll behave in
future."
"Please, no, I'll behave Miss, please, I will," she grovelled
desperately, her wide eyes imploring those of her tormentor.
"Very, well, your initial punishment now completed ladies," Miss Wang
smiled coldly. They could sense her excitement at the power she had over them.
Rosemary wept with gratitude. She only knew that when she heard, through her
tears and sea of red pain, Miss Wang making that announcement that she could
have kissed her. Neither woman could disguise their obvious, weeping gratitude
that she had 'kindly' decided to end their pain.
"Mr Garth now settle you into your quarters and ease stinging. However,
please don't forget, this treatment can be repeated just as often as required,"
the girl emphasised. "And it will be whenever a trainee is disobedient. You
read and memorise list of rules whilst you recover. You find that you heal fast
here with our special treatments and you be ready to begin full day's training
tomorrow."
Both women sobbed not only with relief at the end of their punishment
but also disbelief that such an ordeal could ever be repeated - resolving never
to put themselves in a position to ever earn it again.
They had no way of knowing that in terms of severity, Garth had applied
fairly light strokes scarcely breaking the skin. However, it was the contrast
with their lack of previous experience of such treatment, which had its effect
and, literally, made its mark. They were also not aware that as their beauty
and bodies were the reason for them being here it would be extremely unlikely
that they would again suffer the whip. Indeed, the experience and threat of it
were normally sufficient to ensure that it wasn't necessary.
CHAPTER 4
Rosemary was in heaven so great was the contrast from the hell she had
previously suffered. After Miss Wang had left, Garth, in total contrast to his
recent ferocity, gently released her bonds. His strong arms had effortlessly
picked her up, causing her to wince afresh as her agonised flesh bent and
stretched with every touch and movement.
Almost a different person, rather than the one who had inflicted her
suffering, he placed delicate, tender hands under her knees and around her
shaking shoulders, nuzzling her ears and kissing the tears from her wet eyes.
She snuggled up to him like a chastised child whilst he had carried her into a
long adjoining room to the gym. It contained numerous metal, coffin-like
containers and he laid her gently face down on the lattice mattress within
standing with its lid open. Each 'coffin' had a name on it, and Rosemary's was
inscribed, 'Trixie.'
She obeyed his command to lay still whilst he fetched Lindsey. In her
present state, faint of mind and striped, throbbing body, she was in no position
to move anywhere. It felt as if a sea of flames was constantly washing over her
lower back, buttocks and upper thighs as if sunburnt. However, she also
experienced a secret tingle of raw excitement. Naked, helpless, rarely had she
felt so utterly under someone else's control; and the brute was strong and good
looking. Angrily, she shook her head banishing such disgraceful thoughts. The
bastard had just whipped her - just as a lesson in obedience!
A low moaning heralded the arrival of Lindsey being carried in a similar
tender fashion to herself. The large brown hands holding the beautiful Italian
girl's bottom, cradling her sobbing shoulders, gave her an illogical and
involuntarily pang of jealousy. Then she mentally winced at the painful red
lines running over the girl's back and buttocks, making her own flesh twitch in
sympathy.
The container on which he placed Dixie several down from her own was
also inscribed with her new name in pretty pink letters! After settling her
face down the Arab left her and advanced again on Rosemary, this time with some
large china pots from which sweet smelling fragrances wafted.
"I make pretty lady feel better now. It hurt a bit at first but
gradually it take pain away and lamps inside your box will heal you quick. The
lid will be locked for the night but you push bell-button inside if you need to
get out. I don't recommend you doing so though," he warned. "Miss Mitzie or
Miss Wang likely to get real mean."
"Yarrgghhh."
Rosemary yelped as, without preamble, he scooped out a handful of cool balm
and slapped it onto the battleground of volcanic flesh that was her bottom. The
cool cream against the red throbbing heat was initially agonizing but the Arab's
soothing hands gently kneaded it into her. He pushed and delved into her every
nook and cranny, gently easing her thighs further apart, working it deeply into
her, sparing her no blushes. Contentedly, shamefully she was drifting into a
dream-like state filled with warm sexual feelings. Slowly her pain ebbed as
her hips wriggled involuntarily and she slightly raised them.
Knowledgeably the tips of his fingers brushed the fur fringed
oyster-like lips of her sex, circling, delving slightly. Her thighs parted as
his fingers pushed deeper into the soft velvet heat which gripped both fingers
he used explore her. They disappeared up to the knuckle in the mauve delights of
her liquidity.
She could feel the Arab's large thumb within her, filling, stretching,
rubbing and stroking, a finger pushing ahead and gently rubbing her now swollen
clitoris with small circular movements.
"Mmm, huh, huh," she sighed, eyes closing, licking dry lips as he played
delicious tunes with her femininity.
The agony of the lash had already heightened her senses so that before
she knew it, the sweet ecstasy of an orgasm was blowing through her like a warm
tide. Fists clenched around the mattress she jerked her moist, eager sex under
the all-knowing digits, gripping him, sighing when he slowly withdrew and patted
her bottom with sticky fingers. Then, with a gasping shudder, she drifted to a
drowsy state, scarcely aware of the whirr of an electric motor lowering her
mattress down into the box and the lid closing over her head with a solid clunk.
Vaguely aware of a soothing heat enveloping her ravaged flesh, she fell into a
sleep. Her slumber was filled with a contrasting mixture of women, Chinese and
Negro screaming at her, and then her shivering nudity was being protected by the
young Arab hulk, his hands playing with her shivering body.
TO BE CONTINUED
