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Message-ID: <32068asstr$998197802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "MARK  MERSEREAU" <m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 17 Aug 2001 15:47:02 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} New: Abducted and Enslaved, Parts Two and Three
Date: Sun, 19 Aug 2001 01:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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{ ASSM } {Mersereau} New Story "Abducted & Enslaved" ( MF Mf FF FM
Ff Fm Mdom Fdom nc voy sm bd oral toys )  (2/?)

The usual disclaimers: This is strictly adult material;  all
characters are fictional.  No redistribution without attribution to
the above-named author.  No commercial use whatsoever of this story.

From: Mark Mersereau (m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net)

Subject: { ASSM } Abducted & Enslaved  [Mersereau]  MF Mf FF FM Fm
Mdom Fdom nc oral sm bd toys

ABDUCTED & ENSLAVED Part Two


CHAPTER FIVE: The Captives are Taken Onto the Ship

Despite the prisoners' fatigue, their captors allowed them no rest. 
The boss, who had greeted them originally, split them into two
groups.  He pointed out and selected nine of them.  His selection was
seemingly at random except that  he divided them evenly according to
sex, with three males and six females in each group.  Sheila, in the
first group, found herself separated from both Ed and Wendy.   Ken
and Al led them into the room they had originally entered. 

They were again bound, hands behind them, and hooded.  Instead of
draw strings about the hoods, leather collars provided with riveted-
on rings were fastened about their throats.  A cord was drawn through
a ring in each collar so all nine prisoners were linked loosely
together.  They were led from the building and walked to the pier. 
The air from the sea soon had them all shivering in their scant
attire.   They heard the sound of an engine, purring softly close by.
 

A man grasped Sheila's arm.  "Careful," he told her.  "It's a step
down.  He aided her into the vessel and walked her, followed by the
other prisoners, to the front.

"Sit here."

A moment later she felt a cold, wet bench against her bare buttocks
and labia, a slightly  concave surface against her right hip.

Another body squashed in beside her.

"Keep tight together," the man ordered; "there's hardly room in here
for the nine of you."  Someone withdrew the cord from their collar
rings.  The body beside her pushed harder against her own, but Sheila
was grateful for its warmth.  "I'm Sheila," she whispered, shivering.

"I-I'm Jane," her companion replied.  "I can't believe this is
happening.  All this is so awful.  What's going to happen to us? One
of those men was really disgusting; I'm still cringing from it!  This
seems like a nightmare.  I can't believe that just a few hours ago I
said `Bye' to Mom and Dad, excited about my date with Bill.  Now, I'm
kidnapped.  God, maybe they're taking us somewhere where we'll never
be found!"

I'd like to assure her, but I don't know myself what's going to
happen.  To any of us.

The boat began to move.   From the motions of the waves, it seemed
they were heading out to sea.  

About half an hour elapsed, after which the boat slowed, then bumped
against what proved to be a larger, ocean-going, ship.  A man helped
them into a boatswain's chair which lifted them, one at a time, onto
the larger vessel.  

As soon as Sheila felt her feet strike the deck, she felt hands grip
her under the arms and lift her from the chair.   A hand grasped her
arm, and she was led quickly, so she had difficulty not stumbling,
against another body and a railing.  She felt a rope put through her
collar. 

Then, a hand went under her halter.   "How d'ya like these tits!" a
man said.  His hand began squeezing and kneading her breast. She
cried, "Please!  you're hurting me!"

There was no response from the man.  Instead, she heard another
man's voice: "Yeah, wouldn't you like to fuck her?!"   A hand,
perhaps his, pulled her skirt up.  "Hey!  she's blonde--look at her
snatch!," he added.

A hand went between her legs, and a finger worked between her labia,
roughly probing.  It felt uncomfortable, almost hurt.  She exclaimed,
"Stop!  Please!" and she tried to pull away, but they had her jammed
between themselves and the railing.

"Hey Roy!  You two there!" she heard a man, farther off, yell. "Get
the next one!"

The men released her.   "C'mon Roy.  What d'ya think?  Chance we can
fuck any of `em--before we dock at the island?" 

She heard them trot away.    

The person next to her, in a girl's voice,  spoke.  "Jesus!  did
they hurt you?  There wasn't a thing I could do.  My hands are tied."

"No," Sheila said.  "I'm all right."  But she was shivering, not
just from the cold.

They stood waiting, for another ten or fifteen minutes.  Then a man,
in a loud voice, told them, "We're taking you inside now. Walk
slowly, follow the person in front of you.  We'll enter a door and
there are steps down, so be careful!"

Sheila followed the girl who'd spoken to her, and after stepping
over some barrier a few inches high, she took three steps.  The girl
in front of her said, "Watch it--here are the steps!"

They went down three flights.  As they went, it grew warmer, and
Sheila was grateful for it.  She stopped shivering.  At the bottom,
they were led a short distance down a corridor.  She heard a door
open and a moment later she followed the girl, over a similar
barrier, into a room.  The person behind her, a man, stumbled against
her, evidently tripping, and exclaimed, "Oh! sorry!" and righted
himself.  "Watch the feet!" he said.

Sheila heard the door close, and a bolt lock it.  For a few moments
she and the others stood about, not moving, but finally the man
behind her said, "I think we're alone."

She heard another male voice say, "I think so too.  Let's see if we
can untie ourselves." 

They aided each other in unbinding each other's hands, then their
collars and hoods. They found themselves in a relatively small cabin.
Their cabin contained four bunks, one above and one below against
each of the longer walls. The floor was carpeted.  They found a small
bathroom containing a shower, sink, and toilet.  A single recessed
fluorescent light illuminated the main room, a bulb over a cabinet
lit the bathroom.  There were no portholes. One of the men said, "I
think we're below the water line.  That's probably why."

There were nine of them, six of them girls and women, and three men.
Everyone was exhausted.  The female prisoners took the four bunks,
each lower being shared by two girls.  The men found areas of the
carpet to rest on.  After about two hours, there was increased
activity on the ship, and it began to move.  All of them were so
tired that, in spite of the noise on the vessel and its motion, most
of them   slept.

After some hours, from time to time, some of them awoke. They were
hungry, but no one appeared to provide food, or even water. They
resorted to drinking with cupped hands at the bathroom sink and hoped
the water was safe.

Few of them knew each other; so a blonde young  man of about
eighteen or nineteen, took the initiative.  He had the physique of a
wrestler or football lineman and was sitting on the carpet against
the outer bulkhead.

"My name is Bill.  Jane and I were on a double date last night .. .
or," he stammered slightly, "rather, we thought we were.  The driver
of the limo that picked us up said he'd pick up the other couple
after us.  That was bullshit.  Instead, we were met by a couple of
men with guns.  They got in and we were driven to the dock. That's
about all we know.  Can you think of anything else, Jane?"

The girl had begun crying when the young man began talking.  When he
addressed her,  she suppressed her sobs and wiped her cheeks.

"N-No," Jane responded.  "E-Except, the couple were foreigners. They
had accents."

She was blonde and shapely.  To Sheila, she looked a year or two
younger than Bill, perhaps seventeen.

"Where did you meet them?," Sheila asked.

Bill replied, "At a party that a modelling agency put on," Bill
replied. 

"SMF?  `Swimsuit Models of the Future?'"  Sheila asked.

"Yes!  How did you know that?  Do you know them?"

"No, but we attended a reception that was given by SMF.  Lots of
lovely girls and women were there.  What made you go to this party?"

Bill said, "We saw a `models wanted' ad by SMF in a magazine.  It
said that the promoters would pay girls to have tryout photos taken
of them at the party.  Everything was free there, even the drinks. 
Jane isn't old enough to take the wine or beer but we pigged out on
the food."

"The couple s-seemed real sophisticated," Jane stammered.  "They
asked us to double date with them.  They were sure I was going to be
hired.  I-I was so excited, thinking that I was going to have a
career in modelling."

"They claimed they had four tickets to the premier of a new film,
and that the stars were going to attend," Bill said. "But, we never
saw them after the party. All we saw was the inside of that limosine!"

"That's similar to how I and my husband were taken," Sheila said.
She described what had happened to herself and her two friends.

A petite girl with long black hair who sat sharing a lower bunk with
an auburn-haired girl said, "That's similar to what happened to Mia
and me." 

She indicated the girl beside her.  "We're roommates at SUNY.  A boy
in one of our classes showed me an ad in the News for that SMF
company, and he and some of the other kids thought Mia and I ought to
go to the open house.  We thought we might want summer modelling jobs
if we could get them,  and both of us could use the money.  College
is pretty expensive for my parents."

The girl next to her said, "Robyn's exaggerating. I didn't think I'd
get a job.   She's the one with the model's figure, anyone can see
that. I just went along with her for company."'

Sheila thought they both were model material, although Robyn, the
brunette was certainly more striking.  She was petite, but with
oversized breasts for her frame, and gorgeous black tresses that she
kept in a ponytail.

"Does anyone have an idea why we've been kidnapped like this?" Robyn
asked.

Sheila said nothing.  She saw no point in frightening everyone, but
Jerry, he of the large organ, with short brown hair, about thirty,
said, "I hate to say it but it looks like slavery to me. Maybe
kidnapping for ransom.  I don't see what else it can be."

"Slavery?" Robyn said.  "How can there be slavery today?  That was
ended a long time ago."

The third male in the room spoke up then.  A boy of about sixteen,
with  brown hair in need of a haircut, he and his girl friend were
seated beside each other next to the bunk opposite that on which 
Robyn and Mia sat.  He said, "That sounds crazy. Why  would anyone
want slaves today?  Maybe they took us for ransom, like you said. 
Still, I can't believe even that.  I never heard of such a thing." 

"Oh, there's slavery going on, all right," Jerry said.  "If you read
the papers and watched `Sixty Minutes' you'd know that.  I never
heard of it happening in the USA, but it's going on in Europe. 
Mostly, or rather all girls, from Eastern Europe.  They get kidnapped
and sold in various countries, like Turkey, or even Italy, for big
bucks.  Five thousand or more if the girl is pretty."

At that there was silence. 

"B-But, they took you, too," the blonde Jane said.  "They didn't
just take girls."

"I know," Jerry responded, shrugging.  "I  don't know why. Maybe,
like I said a minute ago, it's for ransom.  That's going on in some
countries, too." 

There was a knock on the cabin door.   A male voice yelled through
it,  "Everyone stand back, away from the door!" 

A moment later the door was unlocked, and a man entered. Behind him
stood another man wielding a pistol.  They were apparently ship's
officers since they wore uniforms and officers' caps.

"Is either of you blondes named Sheila?," the front man asked,
looking from Jane to Sheila.

"I-I am," Sheila responded, apprehensive.  Why were they asking for
her by name?

Oh god; I hope they didn't find the camera in my purse clasp.

The man withdrew a black cloth and a roll of tape from a pocket. He
tossed them to Jerry.   "Blindfold her with this," he said. "Just
cover her eyes.  Then wrap the tape around the cloth so it's tight. 
I don't want it to slip off."

When Jerry was done, the man took Sheila's hand.  He led her from
the room.


CHAPTER SIX: Ken, Al, Pierre, and Roy Abuse Sheila in theirCabin

Yvonne's steward, Pierre, glanced quickly up and down the corridor. 
He saw no one, and he softly unlocked the door to the Captain's suite.

Yvonne is on the bridge.  She shouldn't be back down for another
forty minutes.  

He listened, heard nothing, and let himself in.  Quickly, he went to
the table and collected the used utensils and the empty wine bottle. 
He set them beside the tray and large cloth.  This was one of his
rest periods, but he would use the cleanup as an excuse should she
return and catch him.

Pierre found the album in the right bottom drawer of her desk. He
examined its position so he could return it without it appearing to
have been disturbed.  He glanced at the wall chronometer.  He had no
more than thirty minutes before she'd be off the bridge and return. 
He would have to hurry.

He removed the album and slipped it under the tray. He draped the
cloth over the tray.  He set the dirty plates and cup on the cloth
and tray, and lifted them, placing the entire shaky edifice on the
flat of his right hand.  After tentatively testing its balance, he
carefully went to the stateroom door.  He glanced down both sides of
the corridor.  It was empty, and he closed the door quickly behind him.

He left the B deck and went down past C where the cheaper cabins
were, and one more flight, to D, where the kitchen and crew's
quarters were located.  He glanced down the hall, was satisfied it
was empty, then quickly passed the kitchen and the communal bath.  He
reached the cabin that he shared with the other three men.

Ken, Al, and his fellow steward, Roy, were all there, Ken and Al
were sitting on Al's lower bunk, while Roy was sitting opposite them,
on Pierre's bunk.  The moment Pierre entered,  Roy stood up.  He
helped removed the items from the tray, the cloth, and finally, the
tray.

"Whew!" Pierre exclaimed.  "The album is as heavy as the average
dinner the Captain orders.  It's fortunate that I had only two decks
to come down."

"Let's see the cunts," Ken said.  He jumped up and reached for the
album.

Pierre pulled it away.  "Be careful!  I'm not supposed to take this
out except to show the clients.  Don't get your greasy hands on it!"

"My hands ain't greasy.  Anyway, open it up on the bunk here, so we
can all see it."

Pierre laid it on the coverlet and opened it.  "I only have about
twenty minutes," he said.  I'll have to get it back before she leaves
the bridge."  He flipped past a number of colored tabs and lay it
open at the section with the tab labeled, `Shipment 19'. He let the
other three men eagerly thumb through it.

"Jesus!" Roy said.  "I never saw so many gorgeous broads in my life!
Stark fucking naked!"

"I told you they were," Ken bragged.  "They're right out of
Penthouse!"

Al turned to the steward.  "You actually brought one of these broads
up deck for the rich pricks to fuck?"

Pierre nodded.  "On the last trip.  The Captain is gonna pull the
same scam on this trip; I heard her talking about it with two
clients.  Of course the clients have to pay.  That's why she's
pulling the scam.  I got big money for that girl on the last trip; 
you'll never guess how much!"

Roy laughed scornfully.  "You did?  You mean the Captain did. Did
you cream any of it off, or did she get it all?"

 "She gave me a cut.  Not as big as she should have.   I'm pissed
about that."

"Well, we sure the fuck won't pay."

"Hurry it up.  I have to get this back.  Pick a girl out."

"Suppose she makes a fuss?" Al asked.  "What if she squeals to the
Captain?"

"She won't.  Roy and I will both wear officer's hats. Girls are dumb
about ships.  She won't know these are stewards uniforms. She'll
think we're officers.  Besides, when the Captain takes a girl up for
those two clients, she'll think it's what goes on here."

"I know the one I want," Ken said.  "The one you hassled me about
back in the storage building."

"Yeah," Al replied.  I got a hardon for her too.  She's got great
tits.   See if her picture is in here."

* * *


They took Sheila down one flight of stairs and into a hall that she
supposed was similar to the one her cabin door exited into. After a
few step, she heard a door opened.  "Step up," one of the men told
her, and she stepped over some barrier into the next room.

They took off her blindfold and she saw she was in a cabin very much
like the one she'd left, with bunks above and below against the two
longer walls.  The two men who had brought her wore wore white
uniforms, with dark blue officers caps..

I guess they're ship's officers.  

But she was horrified to see the two men who's abused her in the
building where she'd undressed.  Ken and Al, who were looking at her,
grinning.

"I guess you're not too happy to see us, huh?" Ken said.  "Well,
we're gonna finish what we started last night.  We ain't gonna be
interrupted, this time."

"Who fucks her first?" Al asked.

"Well, shit," Ken said; "I'm first.  After the way you pulled me off
her, you sure as hell ain't gonna be."

He stood up.  "Let's get those rags she's wearing off."

Pierre said, "Be careful.  Don't tear any of it.  Sheila, you take
it off, all right?'

Sheila felt herself trembling.   

I have no choice.  Well, it's what I expected when I accepted this
assignment from Max.

She undid the halter string and removed the garment.

"Oh man!" Ken exclaimed; "Look at those tits!'

Before Sheila could touch the skirt, Ken had grabbed her waist and
thrust his face onto her left breast, taking the nipple in his mouth.  

Sheila felt strange.  Her feeling was detached, as though she were
watching a play and that none of this was real.  Ken's sucking mouth,
and his hands didn't seem real.  Nor did the hands from one of the
men behind her, pulling down her skirt and lifting her feet in turn
by her ankles, to remove it.  The entire cabin seemed unreal.  Its
single fluorescent light above her and the bunks, the lower right one
she now noticed had several color photographs of nude women torn
crudely from some magazine taped to its wall.

Someone's hands were between her legs, feeling her genitals, probing
roughly for her vagina, finding it.

"Please!" she protested.  "You're hurting me!"

"OK, I'll make it easier," she heard one of them say.  She thought
it was Pierre, his voice was rougher than the others. Two men pushed
her back onto the right hand bunk, and she fell awkwardly onto the
counterpane, lying with her upper body and hips on it, her legs over
the edge.  Her bare feet--her slippers had come off with her skirt--
were flat on the cabin carpet.

Hands grasped her ankles and pulled her legs apart; then she felt
bare skin between her thighs, someone had removed his clothing
already.  She stared at the base of the upper bunk above her and
noticed a broken metal spring.  The mattress above it had torn and
some of its contents, like dirty cotton, protruded.  

She notice the pictures again; there were eight.  Three above, five
below, but she couldn't see much of them, the angle was too acute.

Ken was mouthing each of her nipples in turn, sucking.  They had
both become erect, although she felt no sense of arousal, just hard
nipples.  Now, the one between her legs had his hand on her labia--
no, his mouth; that surprised her.  She felt a tongue separating her
lips, spreading them as it explored.

What a weird experience.  As a reporter, I suppose I should try to
remember this.

She was less frightened now than she had been the night before, when
Ken and Al had probed her with their hands and fingers.  In fact, she
felt hardly any fear, simply this feeling of detachment.

"Hey Pierre!" she heard a man, Al(?), laugh.  "How come you're
eating her out?  You like the taste of cunt?"

The mouth withdrew, just long enough for Pierre to reply, "I like
them juicy."

Al laughed again.  "Jesus, the French!"

"He's Canadian," Roy said.

 Rather than arousing her, the tongue tickled.  He seemed to be
licking every millimeter of her vulva. He sucked her labia and began
pulling on them.  She wanted to pull away, but that was impossible. 
Several times his tongue probed the vestibule of her vagina. Her clit
wasn't the least hard, but periodically he pulled on its hood.  

The whole scene seemed weird.

Her nipples were becoming sore.  It was a relief when Ken finally
took his mouth off them.

"Now we're gonna finish what we started last night," he said,
smiling down at her.  "One of you hold her hands."

Sheila thought it was Al, who was kneeling on the bed behind her.
His knees were digging into her upper arms on each side of her. He
reached around her, his arms pressing down against her breasts as he
grasped her wrists.  He pulled her arms back and held them in a
position that, if she had been standing they would have been above
her head.  

Ken stood up.  She saw him undo his belt, unzip his pants, and pull
them, along with his undershorts, down his legs.  He kicked them off,
leaving them on the carpet.  His penis was erect.  

Naked from his shirttail to his socks, Ken knelt on the bed,
straddling Sheila's waist.  He gripped his organ, pointing it at her
face.  He moved closer, until his knees were pressed into her
armpits, and his penis was directly before her, inches from her eyes.
She felt his muscular thighs pressing her chest, squashing her breasts.

"Do you open your mouth?" he asked, "or do I choke you?"

"I-I'll do it."  

She opened her mouth,  but he took his time.  He looked about,
apparently to see if the others were watching.  Then, holding the
shaft with two fingers, with the head he followed the contour of her
parted lips, brushing over their entire surface.  Finally, he
inserted it between her teeth.  He moved it forward and it pressed
down on her tongue.  It slid to the back of her mouth. He gave a
short, hard thrust with his hips.   

Sheila gagged.  Her eyes watered.  For a moment she couldn'tsee.

Hands gripped her head, and the shaft began to move back and forth
over her tongue.  All Sheila was able to see was his naked belly
thrusting toward and away from her face.  The shaft between her teeth
seemed enormous, and each time he thrust it forward she felt a surge
of panic that it would plug her throat.

She was vaguely conscious of the other men.  The man holding her
wrists behind her must have opened his pants.  His hands brought hers
together.  Her palms encountered warm flesh, his penis, which was
erect and she realized he wanted her to grip it.  She closed her
fingers about it.

Ken clutched her head, and he began thrusting faster.  Sheila had
difficulty holding her mouth open enough.  It worried her; once,
during a long blowjob she'd given Eli, he'd complained about her
scratching him with her teeth.  She was afraid of what Ken might do
if she angered him by doing the same to him.

The mouth and tongue that had been licking and sucking her genitals
abruptly withdrew.

Hands grasped her ankles.  The hands pushed her legs upward, and
apart.  Her knees were to each side of Ken in his position straddling
her chest.   He continued to grip her head while he thrust his shaft
forward and back in her mouth.

Fingers spread her buttocks.  Sheila felt something cold and hard
press against her anus; then it entered.  Something cold entered her.

KY Jelly?  Oh god, are they going to fuck me in the ass?!

She felt the penis force against her anus.  It pressed and pressed. 
Then, suddenly, the head slipped in..  It felt like an enormous pole
entering her.    It made her think of the big cucumber she had once
masturbated with.  She had been sure it would be too large for her
vagina.  This felt that large.  But in her anus it hurt.

It was so painful that she almost forgot her apprehension about the
shaft in her mouth going into her throat.

She felt helpless.  She was virtually immobilized.  Ken held her
head.  Someone gripped  her wrists behind her, while another held her
ankles.  And her legs were kept apart by Ken's hips. The thrusts in
her anus made her fear that something in her would tear if it went in
farther.  When a thrust did drive it in farther, that didn't happen. 
Nevertheless, her fear remained.

Amidst a forward thrust, Ken stopped.  Only the head was between her
teeth, pressed on her tongue. She felt it swell.

She used to be thrilled when Eli came in her mouth, but the thought
of Ken doing it made her nauseous.

He exclaimed,  "Aaaaaah!  Drink it you bitch!"

It squirted , again and again.  Her mouth filled, and the powerful
flavor caused her salivary glands to generate more fluid, filling her
mouth even more. She yearned to spit.

Sheila prayed that Ken would pull out his organ.  But he stayed as
he was, until his orgasm was over, until his penis was soft.

"Jesus Al!" he said, releasing his hands from Sheila's head; "Didn't
you come yet?!"

To her relief, Al pulled the huge presence from her rectum. He
complained.   "The bunk's too narrow.  There's no head-room. Let's
take her on the carpet."

They made her kneel and she was compelled to take each of the other
three as she had taken Ken, swallowing at the end.  Her jaws aching,
Sheila hoped they'd release her then, but her ordeal wasn't even half
over.

She had to kneel on a bunk, with her naked buttocks projecting from
its edge.  Each man of them took her between them, driving in and out
of her abused orifice until he was satisfied.

Even then her ordeal wasn't over, either for her sore anus and
rectum or her aching jaws.

They made her stand with her legs apart and straight, bent over at
the hips in front of one man, while another, behind her, gripped her
by the hips and screwed her in the ass.  She masturbated the man in
front of her until he told her to hold the head in her mouth.  She
continued to pump while it squirted and she swallowed.

Sheila became groggy.  She lost track of time.  Her jaws ached
terribly.  When she tried, she was unable to open her mouth, and
semen shot in her face.  Her anus and rectum were sore.  She felt her
legs were going to collapse under her.  She was no longer able to
keep her balance despite the man gripping her hips. 

She lost count of how many times she'd been taken in the ass, and
how many times she'd had an organ squirt in her mouth or on her face.  

At some time she must have collapsed.  Perhaps she fell asleep while
standing.  She couldn't remember.  She vaguely recalled a man wiping
her face with a damp cloth.  A man had held her up while another drew
her halter about her breasts.  He raised her feet one at a time to
slip her legs into her skirt, and her feet into her slippers.  

She was led, stumbling, up a flight of stairs and was walked to her
cabin.  The men turned her over to two women; they lay her on a bunk
where she fell asleep. 


CHAPTER SEVEN: Leon & the Director in Paris

Marie looked up at the newcomer.  

Bon dieu--what a man.  He's like a movie star!

His smile sent shivers through her.  

He resembled in no way those nondescript men who had preceded him
over the two years that she had worked for the director.

His blue eyes took her in casually.  To Marie they were soft hands
following each contour of her body. With her soft auburn hair, her
curvaceous figure and substantial bosom, with her innocent wide eyes
and long lashes, Marie knew she was attractive to men.  But, suddenly
she felt awkward, flawed.  Was she attractive to him?  She patted her
hair and prayed that her bra strap wasn't showing again.

Leon made no attempt to converse with her. Marie was disappointed:
he merely said "Monsieur Castel, Mademoiselle, to see Le Directeur."   

He took a seat, looking at her with a faint smile.  Blushing, Marie
looked down.

* * *

Le Directeur continued through the dossier.   This Castel wasn't at
all like the other seven or eight field agents that he briefed in a
year.  This man seemed virtually fearless.  For dangerous assignments
that was appropriate enough.  Although, from what the Americans knew,
it seemed this one might not be dangerous.  On the other hand, the
director knew better than to trust early indications in any
investigation.  

When an opponent sensed danger, he often took severe and effective
measures, particularly where large amounts of money were concerned. 
Certainly danger was present for any agent sent from France and other
western countries into the bribe-rife Eastern Europe's white female
slave trade.  Murder and torture were common.  It was probably wise
to send in an agent who could handle himself. 

Fearless or not, Castel has his faults. 

Le Directeur examined the photograph. 

It's nearly two years old.  Still, at thirty-nine the man should not
have changed much.  Devilishly good looking; reminds me of the
protagonist in that novel translated from the English, `Le Peinture
de Dorian Gray'.  Castel has many of his characteristics.  With
women, especially.  Apparently  has no regard for them, considers
them in toto as the pool of vehicles to choose from when motivated by
his sexual appetite.

The incident  as a fifteen year old schoolboy with his two friends
created such a scandal that, since then, he's assumed a mantle of 
respect for girls and women.  According to the other two boys
involved in the affair,  he was the instigator.  Seems likely they
were truthful; it fits in both with Castel's character as a
controller, and his subsequent numerous--always brief--affairs.

Considering how young the boys were, each fifteen at the time of the
`incident', they did quite a lot to the girl. 

Out of curiosity rather than in the expectation of discovering
anything necessary for his meeting with the agent, the Director read
the transcripts of the interviews.

The girl was  the daughter of  a small perfumer.  Leon met her when
he went with his mother to the boutique run by the girl's family. 
Initially, the girl waited on Leon's mother but the girl's mother who
was also in the shop, evidently recognizing wealth when she saw it,
intervened and she took over. Subsequently, Leon and the girl
conversed while the two mothers discussed perfume.

 The director picked up the transcript of Leon's interview and
leaned back in his chair.   

According to Leon's testimony, the girl invited Leon to picnic with
her.  He considered her invitation to be suggestive.  Her parent's
estate was devoted to flower cultivation--much of the province of
Grasse even today is still used for that  purpose. Theirs contained a
copse; the young couple went to a clearing in it with a basket of
food and wine and a blanket, all provided by the girl.  Leon claimed
they had `some sex' as well as food and wine.  The interviewer didn't
dig further.

A pity.  I would have.

He glanced at the girl's transcript.

She claimed the picnic was entirely Leon's idea. Some kissing but
she denied any `sex'.  Interviewer  dug no further (again!  These
stupid provincials!.  Had all this occurred in Paris, we'd have
discovered the truth).

They had another  picnic three days later.  Leon brought along two
friends from school.  Disagreement--naturally--about how it began. 
Leon and two other boys claimed they `fooled around' on the blanket
with the girl, all four including her, laughing. Then . . .

He glanced at each manuscript.

All four agreed that Leon started it.  He `played' with the girl,
while the other two held her.

At Leon's instigation, they  tied her to the trunk of a tree. She
protested at first  but Leon persuaded the other two that `she didn't
mean it', that her protest was a formality, that she was ashamed to
admit her arousal.   She didn't scream or even cry.  Then, all three
of the boys put hands under her clothing and explored her body.  

The director glanced again at the girl's affidavit.  

She claimed only that they touched her `everywhere'.

Leon `finger-fucked' her.  He claimed that the girl was sexually
aroused and liked it. The other boys--stupid or ignorant?--didn't
know whether she was or not.   The girl testified that she was not,
and that she continued to protest.  They all four agreed that she
kept saying "Non!  non!"  Leon was the only one who claimed it was
pro forma.

Then, they all agreed, Leon removed his trousers, and he had
intercourse with her standing up.  The girl protested initially but
stopped after some minutes.

Leon  said, "Your turn," and the other two also had intercourse with
her.  The girl began to cry.

They undid her hands but kept her waist bound to the tree trunk;
Leon coerced her, by pinching her nipples and `other parts of her
body', into performing what the investigators term `an unnatural act'
with a wine bottle.

The director looked at the doctor's statement.  "The victim's hymen
was found to be intact but her vaginal opening appeared large enough
to permit the actions she claims were committed upon her by the young
men.  This is not particularly unusual.  Some minor abrasions in the
orifice confirmed recent intercourse."

He perused the boys' transcripts.

Out of her hearing, according to the other two boys, Leon told them
he'd persuade her to use her mouth.

Back then, girls of seventeen were ignorant, certainly  in the
provinces.   The girl would have none of the knowledge a young
Parisienne of today.  The girl may never have heard of oral sex. That
must have been traumatic for her.  Unless, of course, the theory held
by the investigators that she was sexually experienced has some
validity.

The director looked over each interrogation transcript, trying to
get a sense of whose words sounded truthful.

Leon  pinched her nipples as well as `other places'.  The girl
claimed that `he gave me no choice', that his pinching compelled her
to do it.  Leon, on the other hand, claimed his pinching wasn't that
hard; that, except for her nipples it wasn't even pinching.  He said
her sounds indicated pleasure.  He undid her from the tree and she
performed the act on him while he lay on the blanket.  While she did
it, Leon fondled her with his hands and told the others, "She likes
it, I can tell."

After the girl satisfied him, Leon wanted her to do it with each of
his friends, but they demurred, saying they `didn't want that'.  They
each had intercourse with her once more.  When the second boy was
ready to have her, Leon told the girl, `take it doggie style, on your
hands and knees'.  While the boy had her from the rear, Leon had her
as he'd had her before, from the front.

Because of Leon's age and that of the girl, who was seventeen, the
authorities dropped the matter.  Two members of the panel were fixed
on the notion that the girl, two years older than the boys, might
have been the seducer.  The parents of the girl were compensated, and
nothing more was done.

Since then, Castel avoided scandal.

The director attached the paper clip and marker, "Personal Actions"
and slipped the papers back in the folder.  He took out the
"Professional Actions" papers and removed the marker and clip.

He's certainly a manipulator.  In the field, that could be an
advantage.  If things go well, he'll learn what the setup on the
island is fairly soon after his arrival.  Risk seems less than ones
he's faced before.  Still, one never knows for certain.  Not until an
agent disappears and--perhaps--is found later, floating in the Seine.
Or is never found at all.

Castel valued money, which was normal enough.  On an occasional
assignment, however, he had stretched his authority.   Not as yet in
activities blatantly illegal.

Fortunately Castel seemed to keep on the proper side of the law.

Castel might have made a master criminal.  Perhaps as notorious as
that Adam Smith.   What a headache for Paris and London he had been! 
The model for the fictional Moriarty of that British author, Doyle. 
Sheer nerve and contempt for his opponents. Those, plus intelligence,
explained his success.

The director closed the folder and slipped it in a drawer.  He
flicked the intercom on.

"Send him in, Marie."

The door opened and Leon strolled in.  Disdaining the trouble to
await Le Directeur's invitation, he took the chair before the desk.

"I've been ordered to report to you, as you know, M. Le Directeur. 
About an international problem, one necessitating a knowledge of
English."

The older man nodded.  "And other abilities, M. Castel.  Have you
read the summary sheet that I faxed you?"

"Such as it is.  It seems that you're quite ignorant about what I'm
being sent into.  Some island in the tropics, with a slave trade in
white women.  Not much information I can use to prepare myself. 
You're not even aware of its location."

"We believe it's in our area of the Windward Islands, perhaps near
Santa Lucia.  A number of our islands are privately owned. All by
wealthy and, for the most part, influential people.  A few owners
happen to be French, but most are foreigners."

"How do you propose I pose as a client?" Leon asked, withdrawing a
packet from his jacket.  "They are wealthy.  You aren't known for
generosity with l'argent petit, Monsieur le Chef."

The Chef de Securite reddened.  On paper, the man was subordinate to
him.  But he had been recommended for this investigation by a close
associate of the Premier.  In the past, politics had laid its coarse
hand on him and he knew better than to resist it when motivated
solely by personal irritations.  

He extended his arm over the desk, holding out his lighter and
striking it simultaneously.

"We have the names of several of these so-called `clients'.  One is
a woman who takes her vacation there each spring.  She has a
reputation for liaisons with younger men.  She's extremely wealthy."

"You expect her to pay my passage?"  Castel chuckled.  Le Directeur
read it as a sneer, but perhaps he was being too thin-skinned.

Castel continued.  "Isn't that improbable?  Or, at least
problematic?  I don't know the woman.  Evidently you expect me to
seduce her.  How long do I have?  Is she married?  Is she haut
societe?  I'm not in that class,  M. le Directeur."

The director suppressed his annoyance. 

Is this man trying to get out of the job?  How the devil has he
survived in the field?  Some thug should have assassinated him long
ago.

"Babette is an attorney," the director replied;  "but she inherited
wealth.  Her father, who's a widower, lives in Monaco, in a villa.  I
understand her mother left her several hundreds of millions.  She has
no siblings.  As for her husband, he lives on the Riviera with his
mistress.  Babette and he split several years ago."

"Does she have a current lover?"

"She recently gave him the boot.  For chasing actresses."

"How old is she?"

The directeur cleared his throat.  

This Castel is reported to have a temper.

"Not very young.  Uh, forty-nine, I believe."

Leon  blew a ring, and leaned back.  "You want me to be une
prostituee."

The older man sighed. 

Damn politicians!  Why did they saddle me with this dandy?!

 "Monsieur Castel, this is a most delicate matter.  I understand
your distaste for this assignment, but I have it on the highest
authority that you were chosen as the sole man in Securite who
possesses the intellect and sheer audacity to carry it out."

The statement produced in the director a slight feeling of la
nausee, but it was the sort of unctious phrasing that he deemed
necessary with political appointees.

Leon suppressed his urge to laugh at the man.   He flicked the
cigarette over the ashtray.  

On reflection, however, he realized that he had little choice.
Hardly any more than had Le Directeur. 

"I presume you have a photograph of the girl?"

The older man withdrew the folder from the middle drawer and opened
it on the desk.  He handed Leon the photo.

"Mmm!  Very pretty.  She's what, about twenty?"

"Twenty-two.  As I said, an exchange student, a graduate one. Quite
mature and, as you might suppose, intelligent.  She disappeared along
with her roommate.  I understand that normally, graduate students in
the United States live like Sorbonne students, off-campus.  This
Millet girl chose not to.  Perhaps she felt more comfortable as a
foreigner by living with the other students.  In any case, her
roommate and she were abducted together.  We have more detailed
information from the New York authorities.  It's all in the folder."

He drew out the second folder.  "This contains information about
Babette LaFleur."

"Do you have a picture of her?"

The directeur withdrew it and handed it to him.

"Mmm, actually, she isn't bad.  She must have been a real beauty,
once."

The woman was a brunette; obviously older than himself, but her
figure looked good.  A pretty face.  Being wealthy,  perhaps she kept
her youthful countenance free of age lines surgically.  That might be
true of her figure as well.  Ample breasts, but clothing and
brassieres could enhance their appearance, so the photo meant little.
Her hair was smooth and uncurled, parted in the middle and shoulder
length.

"She's still quite attractive," the director affirmed.  "I've
arranged for you to be invited to the American Ambassador's party,
which she'll be attending.  I suppose she'll have an escort, but
he'll be ad hoc.  You should be able to introduce yourself without
his being a nuisance."

"Do I have a free hand?"

Le Directeur guessed what Leon was thinking of.  However, the matter
was delicate. 

 "Within reason.  In what sense do you want your `hands free'?"

"M. Le Directeur, I'm sure you've assigned many undercover agents. 
What does an agent do--with a pistol to his head--if he's ordered by
a gang of `engorges', to strangle someone?"

"We have no indication that the abductors are murderers."

"Perhaps not.  But you have too little information to assert that. 
Moreover, there are other acts that will be necessary to preserve my
cover.  I'm sure you ascertain my meaning.  I must act the part of a
`client', participating in all the activities of one."

Le Directeur understood Castel's meaning.   Whatever the man's
motives or intentions toward those women, the safety of Le
Directeur's agents took first priority.  Not that he could verbally
state as much.    This problem crept up more often than the director
liked, which was never.  What made this situation far more
complicated was the involvement of this daughter of the Consul.  If
anything happened to her, whether Securite had any responsibility for
it or not, the blame would most likely be placed on his shoulders.

Is he interested in preserving his cover? Or in carte blanche to
enjoy all the young women he can? Like most undercover agents he is
probably not that different from the criminals he associates with.

Leon reached in his jacket pocket, and withdrew a smallnotebook.

"I would much appreciate your signature on a page in my pocket
diary, giving me carte blanche.  The diary will remain here in
France.  In the care of a friend, you have my word."

Hoping this didn't return to haunt him, the director took out his pen.


CHAPTER EIGHT: Janine & Holly Arrive on the Island and Begin Training

It was ten in the morning and still cool when Crane waited for the
two new females.  The sun hadn't yet scorched the sand and pier. The
tide was in; nevertheless, the pier was too high for the launch to
dock where the cruise ship usually did.   He waited at a point
halfway between there and the shore.  He inhaled the invigorating sea
air and, along with its odor he caught the scent of perfume.  He
wondered from which young woman it emanated.

Beside him were his two female trainers.  Kelly was buxom,  a
slightly overweight dirty blonde, and eighteen years old.  Nina, a
svelte brunette, was twenty-two.  Each wore  the usual blue shift and
brass collar.  Their earrings differed;  Nina's were delicate gold
spirals while Kelly's were two inch diameter blue rings. Crane
disliked those blue ones: they made him think of hoola hoops.

They watched the approaching boat.  It crept, sidling sideways,
toward the pier.  Crane was able to make out the hooded figures of
the two captives in it.  Soon he could even see their hands that were
bound behind them.  The boat struck a stanchion gently, and the
crewman who wasn't doing the steering threw out a line. Crane caught
it and secured it.  A few moments later the man was helping each girl
up onto the pier.  

Crane watched as Kelly took the arm of the taller brunette and Nina
that of the blonde.  The blue girls escorted them down the sunlit
boardwalk and onto the jungle trail that led to the main building.  

Crane waited until the two crewmen were beside him; then he asked
the skipper Mike, a fortyish gaunt man with a graying beard,  "I
understand we had problems getting these two.  Do you have the
details?"

"A little, Crane."  Mike always took his time.  Crane waited
patiently.

The former fisherman withdrew a pipe from a satchel over his
shoulder and followed with a small plastic packet that he opened.
Using his forefinger, he filled the bowl with the tobacco and tamped
it.  He lit it up.

After exhaling his first puff, he began, "We nabbed the two when
they left a college hangout on their way back to the campus. When
they didn't get back, one of their friends who had been in the
hangout with them, reported them missing.  Evidently that allowed the
cops to get on it fast.  The broad with the long hair is some
celebrity, and there was a lot of pressure to find them.

"I talked to Yvonne on the liner, but she wanted no part of them.
She refuses to take on any girls  until the searching dies down. I
saw helicopters and patrol boats all up and down the East Coast. 
Luckily, I had my fishing lines out and some catch on ice to display.
I wasn't boarded, just asked on the radio if I'd seen anything
suspicious."

* * *

Late that day Crane stood at his large window facing the west. The
sun was an orange globe, so low that its rays were no longer bright
enough to hurt his eyes.  With the rainbow of colors filling the
western sky and, below it the calm blue-black sea, it was a beautiful
sight.  Why did he feel sombre?

You aren't sombre Crane.  You're bored.  You're a manipulator, and
you've no one new to put under your thumb.

He heard a knock on the door.  

"Come in!"

It was Kelly.  "Master Crane, Nina sent me up to tell you the two
new girls are ready for you."

"Have they had anything to eat?"

"Oh yes, Master Crane.  We gave them lunch at about one.  The
doctor's medication was in the lobster bisque.  Afterwards, I gave
them enemas and bathed them.  They're all prepared.  As you ordered,
we brought them to the lounge."

"Whips and toys?  Collars?"

"I think we got everything, Master Crane."

"Good.  Let's go see them."

They descended the stairs to the lounge.   Crane paused before
entering to get a view of the new girls before meeting them. Their
two male guards were seated at the bar talking with the bartender who
was leaning over it.  The two occasionally glanced over toward the
female captives who were sitting with Nina on a couch against a wall.
Nina's heavy shoulderbag--stuffed it seemed, from its rotundity--lay
on the carpet beside the sofa.

Three male clients and Rita were at a table adjacent to the bar,
while two other clients were in armchairs, conversing and
occasionally glancing toward the couch.  The two men were obviously
interested in the female captives.  

One girl was a striking willowy brunette with long black tresses.
She looked to be in her early twenties.  Crane supposed she was the
one all the commotion was about.  The younger girl, her roommate at
the university, was the girl his agency in New York had intended to
acquire.  Blonde and not as tall as the brunette, she looked several
years younger.  She was pretty enough to feature in any swimsuit
competition, typical of the women selected by SMF.  She didn't
interest Crane except for her value in the auction.

Perhaps the brunette would provide him some diversion.  From what
Mike had told him, she must be of importance to the American
authorities.

Neither girl wore the clothing she'd arrived in; no doubt it was
being laundered.  Each was now dressed in a trainee uniform,  a
conservative one, black and white striped pleated miniskirt with
white cutoff tee, the hem a couple of inches above her navel.  

Hems of the miniskirts ended at mid-thigh.  Crane was able to
discern about an inch band of skin separating the skirts from the
elasticized tops of their black stockings.  On their feet they wore
glossy black flats.  

Despite the shortness of their skirts, Crane saw no sign of their
panties.  First day trainees were obliged to wear them, so he assumed
they were wearing thongs.  Even from the doorway the sheerness of the
nylon tees was apparent.  He could see both the bumps of each girl's
nipples and the pink hue of the material over their aroelas.

He entered the room and walked to them.

Nina looked up.  "Master Crane," she said, indicating with a wave of
her hand to the blonde on her right, "this is Holly Harding. This is
Janine Millet."  She pronounce it `Millay'.

"H-Hi Mister Crane," the blonde said.  She gave him a smile that
looked forced.  The brunette looked up impassively.  She said nothing.

Crane wasn't concerned with niceties.  He said, "You've probably
learned a few things from Nina and Kelly about why you were brought
here.  Normally I'd process you with five or six other females, but I
can't spare a lot of staff labor on just the two of you.  I'll try to
inform you what to expect here in as few words as possible."

The brunette broke in with, "Mister Crane, you made a serious
mistake when you kidnapped us.  Right now I'm sure the American FBI
and CIA are searching for me.  Probably some of their military as
well.  It would be best for you if you released us as soon as
possible.  You shouldn't worry about our knowing where this is; they
kept those hoods on us all during our dreadful trip in that boat."

Crane felt a stirring of some interest.  He detected a slight French
accent, although her English otherwise was flawless with, in
addition, a slight British accent.  But those were asides. Her lack
of fear--at least overt fear--was what interested him. She considered
herself more important than her companion.  He'd have to find out
more about her.  But only after he'd made her more compliant.

It's been a long time since any female has been this self-possessed
after arriving here. Of course these two haven't gone through the
normal orientation process with all its humiliations.   They don't
yet know what they're in for.  

He pondered how to begin with them.  It was a unique situation. The
male trainers were unimaginative. Too often they immediately
subjected novices to physical abuse, with whippings or occasionally
even the use of prods, to coerce compliance.  Those methods bored him. 

His two female trainers were more subtle and preferred psychological
abuse, humiliations of all types rather than crude physical methods. 
They usually succeeded in breaking down the resistance  in captive
females just as readily as the methods used by their male counterparts.

When he'd spoken of not sparing his staff for just the two of them,
of course he was deliberately exaggerating.  It would probably be
three days or more before Yvonne's ship arrived with the batch of new
females that these two would have been part of. Along with them on
the ship would come a new crowd of clients. He might just as well
amuse himself with these two before the new crush of work descended
on him.

"Are you aware of why you were brought here?" Crane asked.

"No," the blonde said with a shake of her head that caused her hair
to brush her shoulders.  Her hair was smooth, centrally-parted, and
so light a blonde that Crane would have bet that on a cloudy day it
would appear to be silver.

"For ransom undoubtedly," the brunette said.  "You're making a great
mistake keeping us here.  I told you, lots of people will be
searching for us.  I'm sure they have to be looking right now."

Well, it might be amusing to convert them into sex toys without
informing them that's my goal.  Janine is older and seems the
spokesperson for the two of them.  She'll be the interesting subject;
the blonde will be easy.

"Janine, stand up."

Janine gave him a smile that approached a sneer.  "I'm not
accustomed to taking orders, Mister Crane.  Particularly from persons
I have no liking for."

Crane was aware that everyone in the room was now watching.  He had
no need to raise his voice when he turned and called one of the
guards.  

"Miguel, would you please take this girl?  Tie her over one of the
card tables so that she's in the rear entry position."

The dark-haired, mustached young man had been watching with his
fellow guard and the bartender.  "Sure,Crane," he responded,
grinning.  He approached the seated girls.

When he reached them, he bent over Janine and he seized her arm. The
brunette tried to ward him off.  "You're hurting me!" she protested.

The blonde girl looked up at him.  She appeared frightened. "What
are you doing?" she asked.

The guard didn't respond. He pulled Janine from the couch.  When she
refused to walk, crying, "Let me go!" he dragged her over the carpet,
to one of the four heavy mahogany card tables in the center of the
room. 

The guard pushed Janine forward.  She fell onto it, only avoiding
striking her face by catching herself at the last moment with her
hands.

The second guard retrieved Nina's bag from beside the sofa.  From
it, he extracted several cut lengths of rope.  He joined Miguel, who
was holding Janine face down on the table.  He grasped the girl's
right wrist and pulled her arm over the table edge.  He bound her
wrist to its closest leg.  He handed another length of rope to
Miguel, who repeated the action with her left wrist.  

When they'd finished, Crane thanked them, and the guards walked back
to seat themselves on the bar stools, rejoining the bartender.

Crane approached the bound girl.  Her long legs were vertical from
her hips down to her feet, the latter flat on the carpet. Her
struggles had caused the miniskirt to creep up her hips.  It was high
enough for Crane to see some of her buttocks above the lacy tops of
her black stockings.  A band of black nylon covered her pudenda and
partly the crack of her ass.

Crane found her far more attractive than the shapely blonde, whose
big tits and over-voluptuous body held little interest for him. 

I'm developing a hardon; that's new.  But then I don't get many
women here with figures like hers.

The blonde on the sofa watching, protested, "What  are you going to
do to her!?"  "Mister Crane, what is it you want?  Janine hasn't done
anything to you!"

Crane ignored her.  "Kelly," he told the girl beside him;  "I've
seen Nina use a whip.  I'm familiar with her capabilities using one. 
Would you like to demonstrate yours?"

The girl next to him turned to look up at him, evidently surprised. 
She smiled.

"Oh, would I ever!  Thank you, Master!"

"Then take over."

Kelly paused for a moment, hesitating.  "Well, Master," she began. 
She stopped then, and Crane was surprised to see she was blushing.

Usually she's garrulous, never tongue-tied.  What's bugging her?

"What is it, Kelly?  I'm not going to bite your head off!"

She took a deep breath; then let it out.  Finally she said; "Would
you . . . well, I-I've sort of always wanted to use a man's belt."

 "Is that all?"  He chuckled. 

He undid his belt and slipped it from the loops.  "Here.  I'll leave
the details to you."

Kelly approached the tied girl smiling, gripping the belt.

She bent over Janine and leaned low until her face was close to the
brunette's.  "I'm your new teacher, Janine.  From now on you'll
address me as `Mistress Kelly'.  If you prefer, you may call me
`Milady'.  Understand?"

Janine twisted in her bonds to look at her.  "I think you're all
crazy in this place!" 

"Oh, dear me, what a pity," Kelly said.  She shook her head in mock
regret;  "I'll have to discipline you."

She moved behind Janine.  She grasped the hem of the miniskirt, and
she pulled it up over the girl's back.  This exposed the brunette's
entire buttocks except for the crack between them which was partly
covered by the thong.   Further down, the nylon over the girl's
pudenda was so narrow that Crane saw twin furrows of curly black hair
to each side of it, like shrubbery bordering a walk.

At this point, the three male clients and Rita all rose from their
table near the door and approached the center of the room. They
selected a table even closer to the bound girl than he was, and
seated themselves to watch.  The two guards and the bartender then
stood up.  They followed suit, taking a table on the other side of
Janine.  Crane smiled.

Kelly squatted behind the girl.  She hooked her fingertips into the
waist of the thong and jerked the panties down, over the black
stockings past her knees.  She let them slither down, to lie looped
around the girl's ankles.  It left Janine's buttocks and pudenda
visible to everyone in the room.

Kelly reached up with one hand.  Her palms stroked over the white
cheeks, and her fingers followed all their contours.  She ran her
fingernails down the length of the crack between them.

Her cute ass is has really turned me on.  My cock is like a piece of
steel.

Kelly stood up.  She got behind Janine and, gripping the buckle, she
wrapped two loops of the belt about her hand until the loose end was
shortened to about the length of her forearm.  

She drew back her arm.

 "This," she said, "is for not addressing me properly." She swung it
hard across Janine's buttocks.  It struck both cheeks with a loud
`crack!'.  Janine cried, "Ow!"  

She turned her head, and she looked back at Kelly.   "You have no
right to do that!" she exclaimed. 

"You have no right to hit me!  I'm no child, and I've done nothing
wrong.  If you know what's good for you, you'll release me--now.  And
you have no reason to embarrass me like this. Please pull my panties
back up, and lower my skirt.  It's very churlish of you, letting all
these people see me like this!"

Kelly smiled.

She leaned over Janine and again put her face close to the young
woman's.  Janine's head was on the tables' surface,  her face turned
sideways, and she was looking at Kelly.  Kelly put pursed lips to
Janine's upturned cheek, and kissed it.

"Dear me," she mocked; "is Janine embarrassed by having all these
nice people see her cunt?"

Kelly reached down between Janine's thighs.  The brunette pressed
her legs together tightly, but her action was futile.  Kelly ran her
fingers through the fur of Janine's outer labia, brushing them
lightly.  Using her thumb and forefinger, she spread them. She jabbed
the exposed pink inner ones with her nails.

"Oh!" Janine gasped.  Her hips jerked forward, in an attempt to
escape.  But she was unable to move even an inch, and she succeeded
only in striking her thighs hard against the table. She looked shocked.

"It isn't really so difficult, Janine, " Kelly simpered.  "Surely
you can learn to properly address your teacher!

"You must try harder to learn, Dear.  Please understand that I'm not
angry with you.  I'm simply trying to help you."

Crane gazed at the girl's bare buttocks and exposed labia.  He felt
more aroused than he had in a long time.

Tonight I'll use that cute rump.  After dinner I'll have her brought
up to my apartment.  I'll tie her bent over the bottom bar of my bed
with her arms under it and bound about her legs. I'll spend the night
fucking her in the ass.

"Please!" Janine's blonde roommate cried, "leave her alone!  She
hasn't done anything to you!"

Kelly looked over at Janine's friend.  "You must learn to be quiet
while I'm instructing Janine, Holly.  This is to remind you to be
silent in class."

Kelly swung the belt, hard.  It struck the brunette's buttocks with
a whack! that sounded like a ruler striking a desktop. Janine emitted
a loud "Ow!"  

The blow was harder than the previous one, and she jerked and pulled
at her bonds so hard at the impact that her body thrust upward, onto
the table.  It left her feet in the air, her legs dangling over the
table edge.

Holly began to cry, uncontrollably.   Janine's response, Crane
judged from looking at her face, seemed to be acute embarrassment. 
She said nothing but blushed deeply.

"Oh my," Kelly said.  She bent over Janine and gazed at her
buttocks, as the girl lay prone on the table.  "These are certainly
beginning to look pink."

She ran her palm over Janine's rear.  The brunette squirmed at the
contact.  "Are they a bit sore?  So soon?  Oh, surely not."

"Leave me alone!," Janine said.  "Please pull my skirt down. Now!"

"You look uncomfortable in the air like that," Kelly said.  She
gripped Janine's hips and pulled her back, until the girl's feet were
again flat on the carpet.  She was careful not to allow the hem of
Janine's miniskirt to slip back down.  Meticulously, she re-tucked it
in the skirt's waist.

"Now, Janine," Kelly said, "We'll return to your instruction. Tell
me what my name is."

"Will you stop this foolishness?  You know I'm not going to do say
these childish things!  Lower my skirt, right now!"

"Oh dear," Kelly responded, shaking her head.  "You do require
discipline, Janine.  Well, remember, it's for your own good."

Kelly swung the belt.  She struck Janine's buttocks so hard that
they quivered, and the blow drew a loud, "Ow!"  from the brunette.  
"Stop it, right now!  I'm not going to say those stupid things!"

It had no deterrent effect on Kelly.  Janine attempted to dodge the
blows, but her feet were barely on the carpet;  and they were further
impeded by her panties that remained around her ankles like a coil of
black rope.  Each blow struck fully as hard as the first.

Kelly aimed carefully between her blows.  But she swung the belt
with such force that perhaps it caused her arm to tire by the sixth
blow.  Rather more likely, Crane thought, was that she deliberately
mis-aimed it.

The belt struck Janine directly on her exposed pudenda.

Janine screamed, "Ow!!  Bastards!  Stop it, immediately!"  

If possible, she was blushing even more.  Crane thought that,
despite the obvious sting of the strap, her embarrassment was more
acute than her pain.

The blonde girl was sobbing.  Finally, she exclaimed, "Please stop! 
Stop it!  Stop hitting her!"

"Nina," Crane said; "Please silence Janine's noisy friend."

"Yes, Master," Nina replied.  She rose from the sofa and retrieved
her bag.  She rummaged through it, and she withdrew a multistranded
cat whip, the tails of which were tipped with small plastic bearings.  

"Stand up, Holly," she told the blonde. "You're too disruptive."

Holly's eyes widened, and she stared at the intimidating whip. She
suddenly quieted her sobbing.  She began to tremble.

"I-I'm sorry I spoke.  I promise I'll be quiet."

"Stand up," Nina repeated.

Holly rose from the sofa, shaking.  "Don't whip me!  Please!" she
begged.  

"Take off your panties," Nina said.

Holly looked about the room, at Crane, and then at the men and Rita.
Her face reddened.

"Must I?  I promise, I'll be quiet."

Her countenance angry, Nina repeated, "I said, take off your
panties!  The more disobedient you are, the worse you're going to be
whipped!"

"Oh no, please!" Holly cried, surrendering.  "I-I'll take them off."

Hastily, she crouched, her face pink.  She reached awkwardly under
her pleated miniskirt.  Instead of pulling her thong down by its
waist however, she didn't reach that high.  She drew it down by its
two leg openings.   When the garment was halfway down her stockinged
legs, she stood up.  She allowed it to slide down her black-
stockinged legs to her ankles.  She kicked off her shoes, and
followed it with the thong.  She left them on the carpet.

"Pick up your panties," Nina told her.

The blonde girl crouched awkwardly, so low that her knees nearly
touched the carpet.  Blushing the entire time, she avoided bending
over as she retrieved her panties.

Holly finally stood up.  She held out the black nylon panties toward
Nina.  Her eyes were on the whip that Nina gripped.

Nina said, "I know you don't want to be whipped, Holly.  If you
really want to avoid it and if you promise not to be any more
disruptive, I'll allow you to make a choice that will avoid the
whipping."

"A choice?"

"Yes.  Which would you prefer, a whipping or a gagging?"

Holly looked puzzled.  "A gagging?  I'm not sure what you mean."

"Goodness me, what an airhead!" Nina exclaimed.  "When I say
gagging, I mean gagging.  We don't want you making any more noise. 
Stuff your panties in your mouth.  Choose either that or the
whipping.  Which is it?"

"Oh!" Holly exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes.  "Is that the
choice?  You want me to do that?"

"I'm getting exasperated!" Nina exclaimed.   "You haven't been
addressing me properly, and you're becoming a nuisance again. One
more word from you and I'll give you no choice.  Your ass will be so
sore that you won't be able to sit for a week!"

"A-All right," Holly choked out.  "I-I'll take the gagging."

"Well then, hurry,"  Nina replied; "In your mouth with it!"

Blushing, Holly raised the thong.  She opened her mouth.  Using the
fingers of both hands she stuffed it between her teeth.

"All the way in.  I don't want to see nylon dangling from your mouth."

Holly forced it in until her cheeks bulged.  Pressing the nylon with
her fingers until her teeth were nearly biting them, she managed to
close her mouth.

"Good," Nina said.  "Now, sit down.  We'll watch Janine's training."
              


CHAPTER NINE: Sheila's Boss Max is Interrogated by Lieutenant McCurdy

"Max," Grace said to the intercom;  "It's Lieutenant McCurdy, on
line three."

Max sighed.  Rory seldom called in person unless he was pissed about
something.  He glanced at the clock.  Just after nine.  It looked
like a long morning.   

"Would you bring me coffee, Grace?  This is liable to run into break
time."

He leaned back, punched the `record' button, and lifted the receiver.

"Stedman.  What's up Rory?"

"Listen, you Bastard, you're fucking up my investigation!  If you
give me shit, I'll feed your balls to my Doberman.  Get your ass down
here to the station and fill me in on these model abductions.  You're
in this thing to your ass, Max.  Get down here and spill your guts. I
mean now!"

The slam of Rory's phone impacted Max's ear before he could utter a
response.

He retrieved his threadbare sport jacket from the tree, took two
gulps from the cup his secretary held, and pushed through the door. 
"I'll be at the precinct station, Grace.  God knows how long."

Twenty minutes later, he was in  McCurdy's office.  Unlike his own--
perpetually in a state of disorder--the lieutenant's was immaculate. 
The cigarette burns on the desktop had been  partly obscured by
polish, and the only objects on it were his telephone, a pad, and a
pencil.  Family photos lined three walls; the one behind him solely
occupied by double windows that faced on Ninety-Fifth. 

McCurdy was, like Max, slightly overweight but it was hardly
noticeable on his six and one-half foot frame, seven inches taller
than Max's.  At fifty, his hair was iron gray, in need of cutting. 
His eyes were a piercing blue so dark as to seem black and, with his
Roman nose and clean-shaven countenance, he could have passed in
another time for a Caesar.

He waved Max to the chair before his desk.   It was entirely wood,
and cheap.  Max hoped he wouldn't be in it long.

"I should make you stand, you prick.  Anyway, no bullshit, Max. Tell
me all you know about these abductions.  I know fucking well you're
into it, so don't bullshit me."

Max saw no advantage to being evasive.  He had too little to go on
as it was.  Ed's followup with the blonde after the open house seemed
promising, but that was all.  He had nothing concrete.  At least now
he knew that the cops hadn't dropped their own investigation, so they
had to know more than he. 

Max summarized what he'd learned from Ed and the young contacts
who'd interviewed the girls.  He didn't mention Sheila or the open
house, which hadn't as yet led to anything definite.  

"Everything I have is in this folder, Rory.  I'll leave it with you,
but I need the photos.  Ed has the only copies."

McCurdy took a few notes and then said, "And just what were McGinnis
and those two broads doing at that wine and cheese affair last Sunday-
-the blast put on by SMF?   I know that the blonde with the tits
works for you.   And the skinny brunette is her roommate.  What were
they there for, Max? Maybe I should have had you bring them along,
but I didn't want a fucking committee in my office."  

Max explained.  "They were supposed to call me when they got back
from Sheila's photo session last night, but as of nine this morning
they hadn't called.  I tried to get Ed first thing this morning, and
then Sheila, but I only got their machines.  I was about to phone
Wendy's employer when I got your call." 

Rory stood up, more agitated than Max had ever seen him.  He paced
around his desk and Max several times, retrieving a pack of gum from
a side pocket of his jacket and stuffing a stick in his mouth.

"Christ, Max.  You're gonna get me back on the nicotine habit. How
dumb can you get? Those girls and Ed could be off to that island by
now.  If you'd told me about this before going off on your own, I'd
have at least had a tail on them. When were you going to let me know
that you were gumming up our investigation?  Six months from now? 
After you published an expose on the snatches?"

Max felt his face grow hot.  Rory had never spoken to him like this
before--as if he were a high school boy caught shoplifting.  He
loosened his tie, retrieved a cigar, and then stuffed it back in his
inside pocket.  

That's all I need to do, light up while Rory's trying to quit.

"Rory, once we learn where the island is, I intend to notify the
proper authorities.  Your men told me the cases were closed.  Anyway,
the island probably isn't in your jurisdiction. I mean, it has to be
outside New York, so it's a Federal problem."

Rory dropped back in his chair.  He ran a hand through his hair.

"Max, you went off half-cocked.  If you'd called me, I'd have told
you to hold off.  Some new abductions made us reopen everything. 
You're right about one thing, though.  It is a problem for the Feds. 
And for me--for both of us."

Max looked puzzled.  "What do you mean?"    

"Max, just four nights after those six girls turned up, several more
disappeared. Two were SUNY coeds, roommates.  One of those was an
exchange student, the daughter of the French Consul here.  The FBI
jumped in on it right away.  We're working with them as well as with
the French Securite.  I'm liaison with them both.  

"Your three people make this investigation all the more complicated.
The first thing I want to find out is what they've learned.  That is,
if they haven't been abducted."

"I don't see how that's possible.  Ed and Sheila, plus her apartment-
mate?  Ed is no patsy, Rory."

Rory stared at him.  "Max, sometimes I wonder about you.  A pistol
is all it takes to persuade the toughest guy."

"Even if they have been taken, Rory, they may be able to contact me."

"I wouldn't bet on it.  You must know whatever a pimp or kidnapper--
whatever you want to call one--does when he gets a fresh female?"

He didn't bother to await a reply.  "He strips her naked and rapes
her.  Your assumption that your blonde will keep her shoes on and her
purse handy  is fucking naive, Max."

"Ed is pretty resourceful, Rory.  He's delivered the goods in our
past investigations."

"Look, Max--if your people find out anything, anything, you let me
know.  And I mean, right away.  My ass is on the line in this French
girl's disappearance.  If you hold back, I'll make your name worth
diddly here.  And, if I can,  with the Feds as well."

Max shifted in his chair.  He wondered if the lack of padding and
solid wood was a form of sadism on Rory's part.  

I suppose a good number of its occupants are `perpetrators' as Rory
calls them.

"Two of my people took a risk in this assignment, Rory.  I have to
think of their safety first.  And, don't threaten me.  You know
better than that."

McCurdy pulled open a drawer and placed an ashtray on the desk. He
carefully removed a wad of gum from between his teeth and deposited
it in its center.  

"Yeah, Max.  I do.  Independence of the press and all that bull." He
fastened his gimlet eyes on his friend.  "Don't get any ideas about
lighting a cigar."

Max, relaxing a little, resisted the urge to smile.

"If they're O.K. and have any  info, I'll pass it along, Rory. But
don't ask me to hold back on publication--that's my call. For now,
I'll keep the lid on, but only because my people may be at risk.  Not
because either you or the feds want me to."

"Look, Max, we've been up this alley before.   We can work together
on this and we'll both benefit."  

He popped another stick in his mouth and dropped the crumpled
wrapper in the ashtray.   Then, giving him his steely stare, he
pointed his forefinger at Max.

"You keep me informed about whatever you hear from your people--as
soon as you hear it.  O.K.?   For my part, I'll do my best to look
out for your people--assuming they're there--when the bust goes down.
If your people plan any action--if they can--you run it by me first."
He paused, but Max said nothing. 

Rory sighed, and leaned back.

"Maybe we can help each out here, Max.  We both have a stake in this
working out."

"Information's a two way street, Rory.  Do you have any other
information--stuff my people can use?"

"Not for publication, Max.  Anything I give you is off the record. 
You'd better keep the lid on it.  And I mean it, Max. This is
sensitive stuff, and if your people are there when whoever it is goes
in . . ."

"What do you want, Rory, `Scout's honor'?"

"Yeah, asshole.  `Scout's honor'."

"O.K., Rory.  I'll keep the lid on unless something changes.  If it
does, I'll contact you before we do anything--assuming the delay
doesn't endanger my people."

Rory nodded.  "Fair enough.  The French are pretty sure that island
is in their area of the Atlantic, east of Central America. They have
a lead on someone that they think goes to the island periodically, to
`sample the wares', I suppose.   The guy vacations there every
spring.  Securite is sending one of their agents along with that guy,
next time he goes to the island.  But this can't get out, at least
not yet.  Understood?"

Max pondered.  He didn't see how the presence of a French cop could
have any bearing on what information Ed and Sheila obtained if it
actually turned out that they'd been abducted.  In fact, if the
French raided the island, his two reporters would be right on the
scene and might even be witnesses in any future prosecution.  

Helluva story!  Bigger than I thought.  International sex-slave
trade.  The French Consul's daughter!  But now with the French
undercover, and Ed and Sheila . . .  Two fucking undercover
investigations on top of each other . . . cops and press, for
Christ's sake . . . on a fuckin' island . . .   

But if  Ed and Sheila actually get to the island and the French get
wind of it, extracting any information from there could be a real
bitch.  Then again, if they do get to the island, Ed and Sheila might
need the help of the French to just get themselves out.  Much less
bring out the proof . . .  Shit!  Could we really be inside this big
a story and have to cooperate  with the bastards?  They'll do the
most to keep it bottled up!  Had to be the fucking French!  What
Western country is more fond of secrecy than the French?

But we don't know yet where Ed and Sheila are.  First I'll have to
find out as much as possible from what the cops know.

"How'd you learn about the SMF connection, Rory?"

"Look, Max,  maybe cops aren't all  college grads like you, but we
aren't as stupid as the media makes us out.  Most of the women who
were abducted went to some SMF affair beforehand.  We had a stakeout
and female cop at the last open house, and she got photos.  Ed and
your blonde and her roommate were in them.  And so was the Colombian
who leases the property. We're in the process of finding out all we
can about the people who work for SMF.  Some are really former
models.  The photographer is legit, but what happens to the photos he
doesn't know.  He turns over all of them, even the negatives, to the
Hernandez guy." 


CHAPTER TEN:  Leon & Babette with the Captain, On Board the Transport

"We haven't moved for hours!" Babette exclaimed.  She went to the
porthole.  There were a few lights, but very distant ones.  "Why are
we stopped?"

Leon shrugged.  He continued working with the weights, lying on his
back on the mat.  Up-down-up-down.  "Je n'en ai aucune idee."

"Well, I'm going  . . ."

She stopped.  So did he, holding the bar with arms straight up. Both
had heard the sound against the bulkhead, a dull thud that shook
their vessel ever so slightly.  The impact of a smaller boat against
the side of the ship.

Leon lowered the barbells onto the carpet, and he stood up. Going to
the phone, he dialed their steward.

"No answer.  Something important is happening.  You said you knew
the Captain.  Let's see her."

"Oh, Leon--I don't think we should.  Not if `something important' is
going on.  She must be busy."

He shrugged.  "It won't hurt to find out.  You're paying enough for
this trip.  We'll tell her the truth--we couldn't contact our steward."

"Leon.  Yvonne is . . . well, unconventional.  I have no idea what
she'll do if we bother her when she's busy.  She may be very angry."

"I don't know what you're so inhibited for!  It's the first time
I've known you to be reluctant to do something.  This is nothing. If
she's busy, she's busy.  We'll come back here.  Or go topside to have
a look."

Babette reluctantly acquiesced.  They left their cabin, climbed one
deck, and walked to the door below the stairwell.  Leon rapped on the
door.

"Ou est la?" a female voice responded.

"Ah . . . Yvonne, it's me,  Babette.  If you're busy . . ."

"Ah, Babette, ma cherie!  Entre, s'il vous plait.  Il est ouvert."

Leon opened the door and they stepped over the water bar and into
the room.

"Not bad!" Leon said, looking about the room, which was unoccupied.

It was far more luxurious than their own cabin.  Covering the floor
was thick pile carpetting.  The furnishings included two reclining
armchairs, a sofa and coffee table, and, between pairs of sconces on
each of the four walls, hung gorgeous Bougereau nudes, prints of ones
in the Musee d'Orsay. 

There was a doorway opposite the end of the room from which they had
entered.  On entering the stateroom, Leon was able to observe the
rear of an armchair through the doorway and beyond it, a bed. As he
was looking about, a motion in the other room caught his attention,
and he saw a girl.   She seemed to be bending over, kneeling on a
stool that stood before the armchair.  She looked up, and Leon caught
sight of ample, bare breasts and a youthful figure.  Almost
simultaneously, the girl noticed him.  She appeared shocked, and she
immediately jumped up and ran to one side, out of his field of view. 
As far as Leon could determine, she was nude.

"That can't be the captain," Leon remarked.

"What?" Babette said, looking toward the other room.  The girl was
no longer visible.

A moment later, another woman's head appeared, looking around the
back of the chair.  A redhead, she looked about Babette's age or
perhaps a few years younger.  

"Oh Babette," she exclaimed, laughing.  "I had no idea you brought
along a man!  You've frightened poor Suzy half to death! But it's so
good to see you again!  Will you introduce your guest?  I saw his
name on the manifest, but I fear I've forgotten it."

She stood up, came around the chair towards them, straightening her
clothing, which consisted of a uniform with a navy blue jacket with
brass buttons and a heavy white cotton pleated skirt. Leon looked her
over.  Bobbed red hair, a pretty face.  Slender, perhaps five feet
eight.  She smoothed wrinkles in her garments as she greeted them.

"You've probably guess that I'm lesbian," she told Leon.  "Poor
Suzy.  She's just eighteen.  She isn't queer; she's  `bi' like
Babette.  But she has no experience with men.  They intimidate her."

She put her hand out to Leon.  "I'm Yvonne."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Captain," he said, shaking her hand. "My
name is Leon Castel."

He detected the aroma, faint but unmistakeable, of aroused female.

She probably didn't have time to put her panties back on.

"Please call me Yvonne, Leon.  I presume you're Babette's latest
conquest." 

Glancing at Babette, she asked, "Tell me, Cherie, is he a baron or a
marquis?  And, where did you find him?"

"Stop joking, Yvonne.  You'll swell his head further.

"I picked him up in Paris.  He's a bit of a roue.  Like you. But,
he's even more reticent about his life than you.  I suspect he, too,
lives somewhat on the edge of la loi.  Ugly though he is,  he isn't
bad in bed."

Leon was thirty-nine, with an athletic physique and, at six feet was
four inches taller than his companion.  Rather than `ugly', he was in
fact too good looking for Babette ever to concede in his presence.  
With women he was far too sure of himself.

When Leon accepted her hesitant offer, that she had proffered with
apprehension--fearing that he'd turn her down flat--to accompany her
to Lecoliere Island, shivers of anticipation had coursed down her
spine.  Uneasily, she wondered how long she would keep him.

It had been years since she'd had a relationship with such an
attractive man.

Leon cleared his throat, pondering the advisability of asking a
question of the Captain. 

I'll see what she volunteers.  There's no point in being nosy until
I'm on the island.  All I need is minimal information.  The Director
should be able to identify a female sea captain easily enough.   I'll
let him do the leg work.  He's at his desk all day, the exercise will
do him good.

He said, "I shouldn't think that there are many women captains of
ships."

Yvonne shrugged.  

"Leon, vocations for women-teaching in elementary schools or
secretarial duties-are passe.  Dad was a sea captain.  Since my
school days I've spent more time on the ocean than on land.  I ran a
fishing trawler for nearly ten years.  

"I meet resistance from men in commercial shipping, but I'm pretty
durable.  Men don't often get the better of me."

Her father captained a ship, and she captained a trawler.   That
should be enough for the Director.  Now let's find out what's going
on outside.

Leon said, "We came to ask why the ship has been at anchor so long."

"Well, as you can see," she replied; "at  present I have very few
duties to perform."

Perhaps that reminded her of the girl in the other room.  "Suzy!"
she called.  "Come out and meet Babette and Leon!"

There was a silence for a few seconds.  Then they heard, "Please,
Yvonne!  I'm embarrassed.   Don't make me come out  now."

Yvonne shrugged.   "Suzy is a bit shy.  I suppose you'll have to
meet her later.  

"Babette," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper; "Suzy's tongue
technique is simply marvelous.  You could take lessons from her."

"Yvonne, please!  Babette exclaimed, flushing.  "You say the most
outrageous things!"

Leon smiled.  When it comes to balls, I would say  that Mademoiselle
Capitaine has more than many men.

"Yvonne," he said; "I assumed you didn't have many ship's duties,
right now, but we knew that something was going on outside.  We heard
the impact of a boat against the hull."

"Well, yes.  I suppose you did," she responded.   She lowered her
voice again. 

"I don't want Suzy to hear.  She's garrulous.  The less she knows,
the better.

"At the moment we're loading our `cargo'.  They are almost certainly
ones that you'll have the chance to bid on when we arrive at
Lecoliere Island.  You can have a look at them if you'd like.  Want
to?"

"Girls?"

"Certainly.  Please keep your voice down.  And women and men as
well.  There might be a boy or two, but I'm more interested in the
girls and women.  I pay little attention to the males."

"I'd like to see the girls.  Would you, Babette?"

"Of course.  I'd love to see them, Yvonne.   It will benefit us if
we have the opportunity to look them over before theauction."

"I need to change my uniform," Yvonne said.  "You won't be allowed
up on deck unless I'm with you.  Only certain members of the crew--
ones who are aware of what goes on on the island--are allowed on deck
right now.  While I'm changing, help yourself to drinks from the
cabinet."

Ten minutes later they were on deck watching the boatswain's chair
load prisoners onto the deck. As each shivering and nearly naked,
hooded captive arrived, a guard led her to the railing where she was
lined up with the previous arrivals.   There the guard fed a rope
from a ring in the previous arrival's collar through a ring in the
newcomer's collar.

"They're beautiful!," Babette exclaimed.  

"I assume you mean the women," Leon remarked.  "I'd rather see their
faces before making a judgement."

"I do see one male I wouldn't mind taking back to Paris withme."

Leon nodded, smiling.  "He is rather exceptional."

"If you want to see the women's faces," the Captain said; "I'll give
you the opportunity later."

The trio followed the arrivals who, linked by the rope, were feeling
their way down two flights of stairs.  They entered into a corridor
in which a guard opened a cabin door.  He herded the prisoners in and
bolted the door behind them.

"Will we be able to see them on the ship?" Leon asked.

"I have an album containing photographs of them," Yvonne responded. 
"Besides the photos, it has detailed information about each girl."

"I can't let it out of my hands.  But, if you're interested enough, 
you and Babette can come to my stateroom to see it.  If you're going
to bid in the auction you'll be interested in the data that a typical
client is interested in, like her age, hair color, height and so on,
even some unusual details, like the size and shape of her breasts. 
You can judge how pretty they are from the photos; the album
generally has four of each girl."

"Nude?"

"Of course, nude!" Babette said, smiling.   "Don't act naive, Leon. 
What other kind would clients possibly be interestedin?!"

There might be money in this, if there's time for it  before we get
to the island.

"There seem to be a lot more clients than girls on this ship," Leon
said.  "I wouldn't think a client would have a very good chance of
getting a girl in the auction."

Yvonne shrugged.  "It depends on how much the client is willing to
bid for her.   If he outbids the other clients, he'll get the girl."

"There's a good chance he won't, though," Leon said.

"Of course.  With twenty-five clients and only twelve girls, that's
obvious.  But there are girls on the island already.  Ones that the
regular clients purchased previously.  Crane keeps them in cells.  He
has them do the usual chores that any hotel needs to have done.  Why
the question?"

"What I'm getting at, Yvonne, is that each client surely knows that
his chance of getting one of these girls you're loading on the ship
right now isn't good.  But, the girls are here.  No one's doing a
thing with them now, I assume.  They'll be on board for thirty-some
hours or so, until we arrive at Lecoliere.  I would think that some
clients would grab the chance to use one or two of them before we
dock.  Couldn't we make a bit of money with them?  Show some photos
to the clients.  Use the album as a sales tool--as advertising."

Leon smiled down at the Captain.  

"Am I shocking you, Yvonne?"

"Shocking me?!"  Yvonne laughed.

"Not only aren't you shocking me, Leon, but your idea isn't even
original.  I've already done just what you're suggesting. Several
times, in fact.    Do you imagine that you and Babette are the first
passengers I've allowed to watch girls being loaded onto this ship--
and that you're the first to have thought about using them on the
ship?"

"You've done it before?"

"I just told you I did. Not quite in the way you're suggesting,
though.  What's happened in the past has usually been a couple of
clients spotting a girl, either when she's brought on board or seeing
her photo in my album, and then making me an offer to spend a few
hours using her as entertainment.   Usually it's just two men who
make me an offer for a girl, but I've rented one or two to larger
groups.  I draw the line at two girls though.  It complicates my job
by a lot.  If you're serious about using a girl, we'll have to
discuss it.  And soon.  We have only about thirty-six hours before
landfall."

"Well, I am serious.  What's complex about the idea?" 

 If you're serious, we'd better start moving on it.  I'll have
Pierre--my steward--take the album around to show to the clients.
He'll determine how many are interested.  He'll collect their money."

"How much do you think we can make?"

"I can't even guess that.  It's best that we choose just one girl. 
We have a limited amount of time, just over thirty-six hours.  We
don't really have time to prepare more than one girl.


"Between now and when we dock, I'll have to spend considerable time
at the helm.  You'll have to do the work here in my stateroom. 
You'll have to get things ready.  Then, you'll have to monitor the
girl and the clients.  Babette, are you agreeable? There will be an
awful lot of work for Leon to handle all by himself.  Can you help?"

"I have no interest in any money, but if you want me to I'll help
Leon, certainly."

"Can we see your album now?" Leon asked.  "We ought to pick a girl
ourselves to offer the clients, otherwise each passenger's liable to
want a different girl."

They climbed the stairs to the Captain's quarters.     

Indicating her sofa, Yvonne said, "Wait here.  I keep the album in
my office."

When she returned, she sat on the sofa, resting the album on her
lap.  The album was a binder of the type used by attorneys for legal
documents, larger than a photo album.  Leon observed colored tabs
that separated sections of the book.

"What are the tabs for?" he asked.

"To separate the shipments," Yvonne responded.  "Each section
contains information on a single shipment to the island."

While she was opening the book, Leon tried to read a tab, hoping to
find the one labeled with the date of the Millet girl's abduction. 
However, he discovered the tabs were undated.  

The tabs were labeled, `Shipment 1', `Shipment 2', and so on. The
last labeled tab, where Yvonne opened the album, was entitled
`Shipment 19'. 

I'll have to go through the album.  I'll wait for Yvonne to go on
the bridge.  Nineteen shipments!  If there are twelve girls in each
shipment, that means, hmm, two hundred forty minus twelve is two
hundred twenty-eight girls.  Incredible!  This operation must have
been going on for some years.  The album should tell me a lot.  I'll
have to photograph each page.  She didn't take much time getting this
out; it's probably just in a desk, not in a safe.

Glancing at Babette, Leon said, "I see you're looking at a busty
blonde.  The left page was closer to her than to him.  Leon leaned
against Yvonne in order to see it better.

"Interested in her?," Yvonne asked Babette..  "She has an exquisite
figure."

"Yes, she has," Babette agreed.  "A pretty face, too."

* * *

That evening, Leon and the two women dined in the Captain's
quarters.  Suzy, the young brunette, was serving them.    

The girl wore a French-maid's costume--a short, tight black skirt
that displayed her rump, black stockings on her long legs, and black
velvet pumps on her feet.  Leon could see that her breasts were ample
from the low cut,  scoop-necked white blouse that she wore.  Over her
blouse and skirt she wore a miniscule black apron and on her head was
a white cap.  Leon would have liked her heels to have been higher,
but he supposed that would be impractical considering the ship's
motions.

He watched her pour the Grand Marnier.  She bent low, and he was
able to view both her decolletage and twin hills of her ass.  He
reached out and stroked the latter lightly.  It caused her to stop
pouring for a moment.  She otherwise showed no reaction. She didn't
even glance at him, which surprised him.  

He'd done the same thing often enough to a cafe waitress with more
effect.  The waitress almost always displayed either annoyance--by a
cold stare--or, on occasion, a slight smile. Once in a while he and
she would engage in a stare-down, and his wink after they both stared
for thirty or so seconds often caused the girl to burst into
laughter.  It provided him with a convenient opening with which to
begin a teasing conversation with her.

I'm a bit surprised that she didn't show more reaction.  Perhaps, if
she's as afraid of men as Yvonne claims, she's embarrassed.

Yvonne took a sip from her glass.  She told them, "When I rented a
girl on our last trip to the island, our layover to pick up stock was
rather long.  The clients got bored with spending all their leisure
in the casino, so I made the offer on my own initiative.   Providing
them with a girl turned out to be lucrative for me.  Of course, then
the clients had several days with her.

"Unfortunately, with this girl, we have only tonight and part of
tomorrow."

Yvonne glanced at the maid.  "Suzy; would you please bring us some
coffee from the galley?"

"Yes Mistress," the girl responded.  She curtsied and left the room.

Turning back to them, Yvonne explained, "I prefer Suzy not to hear
much about the island or what is done to the girls there.  I never
allow her off the ship there.  Suzy is a bit garrulous, and I'm not
at all certain she could keep secret what goes onthere."

"The girl I rented out last time became pregnant.  Crane didn't
care; he simply kept the girl in one of the slave cells.  Clients
eventually tire of a slave and they usually turn them over to Crane. 
He keeps them in the cells until he has six  or so of them to ship
back.  I don't take them.  He has some smaller boat dump them at
various points along the coast.

"I didn't take any precautions with that girl, but I can't let the
same thing happen to this Sheila Ericson.  Crane is very particular
about the condition of the girls I deliver to him.  If we rent her
out, you'll have to be sure the clients use condoms. Clients aren't
accustomed to using them or, for that matter, having any other
constraints.

"During much of tonight and tomorrow morning, we'll be passing by a
number of islands, and I'll have to use care and keep in designated
channels.   I'll be on the bridge for much of that time.  You two
will have to watch the clients."

"I'd like to be sure this is worth the trouble," Leon asked. "Will
you at least tell us how much you made last time?"

Yvonne shrugged.   "Leon, I told you--how much we'll make is a
guess.  Sheila is blonde, which should help.  Three or four men on
board are partial to blondes.  Her big tits  should attract clients
like flies to honey.

"On the last trip, the girl was a pretty brunette, a little younger
than Sheila,  perhaps eighteen, but she had nowhere near the looks of
Sheila.   I think it was eleven . . . or was it twelve? . . . clients
that used her.  Twelve, I think.  I charged each of them a thousand
American dollars."

"Mmm!" Leon exclaimed.  "Twelve thousand!  Not bad for a night's
work!"

"You get only half of that.  My take is fifty per cent."

"What!" he laughed.  "We do all the work but you get half the fee? 
You aren't exactly generous, Yvonne."

She shrugged.  "It's my ship and my stateroom.  And, I'm taking a
risk letting clients use her before delivery."

"Well," Leon conceded; "even if my net is only fifty percent, if we
get twelve clients, that amounts to six thousand for you and the same
for me."

"Don't expect that much," Yvonne interjected.  "We have only tonight
and tomorrow morning.  The previous time I had three days.  We won't
get twelve clients.  If we do, we won't have time for them all."

"Even so . . . " Leon said;   "it will be a big chunk of cash." 



Subject: { ASSM } Abducted & Enslaved  [Mersereau]  MF Mf FF FM Fm
Mdom Fdom nc oral sm bd toys

ABDUCTED & ENSLAVED Part Three

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Senator Ellsworth, Yvonne, and Judith

Senator Ellsworth stared out the stateroom window.  During rough
weather, the spray and even waves sometimes reached the lower decks,
but here on B deck there was no need for portholes.  The sea was calm
below a cloudless sky but, neither it nor the cruise was on his mind.
 The album with the nude photographs of the captive women and girls
located two decks below lay on the sofa behind him.  The photos of
the buxom blonde excited him.  

I must have her.  

When Ellsworth wanted a woman, it was only a question of time before
he had her.  Sometimes there were obstacles of course, often a
husband.  Those weren't deterrents to the Senator.  On the contrary,
they were condiments.  They enhanced his enjoyment of her.   As for
ethical considerations,  Ellsworth never weighed such trivia.  In
fact, applying coercive means to bring a woman into his bed increased
his enjoyment of her.  When the woman was married, he found that
having her husband aware of her dalliance was quite as effective as
any aphrodisiac could possibly be with regard to his performance with
her.

Just a few minutes before, Ellsworth had dismissed Yvonne's steward
from his stateroom.  He had told the man that he would keep the
album.  "I'll return it to the Captain myself," he had told Pierre.

His thoughts returned to the brunette who sat behind him.  Judith
was reading in the armchair.  She was unaware of the true status of
the girls and women on deck D and thought that the three girls whose
photographs he had shown her were hired.  He had been careful to show
her just those three.  Ellsworth was aware that the Captain's album
was a damning history of the island's captives.  He was cautious
about allowing anyone other than himself to see its contents.   

Doubtless it wouldn't surprise Judith if he had one of the three
females brought up to his stateroom.   He had told her, with relish,
the ways in which he had used the girl whom the Captain had provided
the clients with on their cruise to the island the previous summer. 
Judith may--perhaps--have disapproved of his actions but, if she had,
she hadn't said so.  She was eminently practical.  Her goals were
much like his had been at her age. When they interfered with
advancing her career, Judith had few compunctions.  

She complied with his whims in bed.  Of course, he hadn't yet
obliged her to perform with another female.  It would be interesting
to see her reaction to that.  If necessary, he would coerce her. 
Yvonne would provide him with a crewman to help in the effort if he
found it necessary.  

Actually, he doubted that it would come to that.  In the past, even
when Judith hadn't concealed her distaste for one of Ellsworth's
whims,  she  suppressed her personal feelings. Sensibly, she always
sacrificed them to enhance her standing with him and, of course,
advance her career.

Over the years, she's been of enormous benefit to my standing in the
party and my influence in Washington.  A pity that has to end.

Strange that their relationship had come to this.  For her first few
years with him she had pleased him, both from efforts on his staff
and in his bed.  Ellsworth even felt a bit nostalgic thinking of his
plans for her.

How different her life is going to be after we dock and I take her
to Crane.

He heard the sound of her closing her book and placing it on the end
table and then the creak of the chair as she stood up.

"I want to take a shower, Senator," Judith said.  "Will you be
taking a nap?"  

"Soon," he told her.  Her query slightly annoyed him.  It implied
that he was no longer virile enough to do without a nap following
lunch.  Now that his decision about her was made, many of her offhand
remarks irritated him.  He'd have to watch himself if his plans for
her were to proceed without his showing his hand too soon.

"I'm going on the bridge to find the Captain.  I intend to see this
blonde girl."

"Sheila?  Are you going to accept Yvonne's proposal?"

"I don't intend to share the blonde with others.  I'll be back down
after I discuss it with her."

Shit!  That was a flub.  Judith looks puzzled; it's no wonder.
Yvonne and I term the females on Deck D `party girls', and other
clients try to do the same.  It keeps the temporary ship's staff--the
chef and kitchen help that never step on the island--ignorant of the
true status of the girls.  As far as they--and Judith-- know, the
island is another Aruba.  I can guess what she's thinking:  why
should I care if others share a party girl?

Now that we're heading directly to the island, it's probably too
late for her to do anything about her situation.    But, she's
ingenious.  I'll be cautious.  Unless it interferes with my
enjoyment.  Nothing will impede that.

"Mmm. Yvonne won't like that," Judith said.

"What?  Oh, you think Yvonne will object to my keeping the blonde to
myself?  That's her problem, Judith, not mine."  


* * *

On the bridge, Yvonne was examining the CRT display of their ship's
location.  At their current speed they should arrive at Lecoliere
Island in a bit more than thirty hours.  The nearest other ship was
at the edge of the radar screen, headed north. This close to the
island she normally would cautiously slow down, waiting until the
other vessel was farther away.  But the other ship would be off-
screen soon, anyway.

The bridge was entirely enclosed in Plexiglass. Yvonne saw the
Senator before he reached the doorway.

Her contacts with Ellsworth had never been pleasant.  She hoped his
appearance on her bridge didn't auger another problem for her. 
Ellsworth was a master at manipulation.  He hardly ever visited her,
either on the bridge or in her stateroom, without trying to pressure
her.   She heard the door open.

"Good afternoon, Senator," she said, not looking up.

"Yvonne," Ellsworth told her, "I appreciate your sending your
steward to me before having him take this album to the other clients.
That was wise."

"Oh?  In what way?"  She looked at him.  "What is it you have to
tell me, Prescott?"  

Yvonne was well aware that Ellsworth hated to be called by his given
name.  He relished his title.  It gave her a little pleasure to
aggravate him in this way.  She had so few other options.

He carried the album under his arm.   He must have intimidated
Pierre.  Her steward knew very well that he shouldn't relinquish
possession of the book.

"I'm interested in this blonde exclusively for myself, Yvonne.  I
intend to buy her in the auction.  If necessary, I'll persuade Crane
to accept a bogus high bid from me.  I'm not going to share her with
other clients.  Certainly not here on your ship. Perhaps on the
island, after I break her.  Then it might be interesting.  I might
share her just to see how she submits to a large number of clients,
of both sexes."

Yvonne raised her eyebrows.  She felt anger grip her.

The bastard.  Wants to cut me off from the cash we'll get from
renting her.  He loves to swing his weight around!

"Prescott; it isn't your choice to make," she objected.  "I'm
Captain of this ship.  The crew take orders from me.  Sheila will be
in my stateroom tonight, and the clients who paid to rent her will be
there.  Now, get off my bridge.  If you force me to, I'll call
Security."

"Now, now, Yvonne," he replied mildly.

I know his technique.  When he speaks softly, he has something nasty
in mind.

"We know how much your livelihood depends on your accreditation as
Captain, and on the seaworthiness of this vessel."

He gave her a thin smile, but she saw the steely glint of his eyes. 
There was no humor in his look.

"I'm sure you're aware, Yvonne, that I have influence with the
authorities who provide your accreditation.  And also those who
oversee inspection of your ship.  Simply because you aren't
registered in the States doesn't protect you.  

"Besides that, my Dear, there is the little matter of the cargo you
carry.  Illegal  in most of the countries that this ship makes port
in."

When Ellsworth had pressured Yvonne in the past, in her aggravation
she imagined that her knowledge of his visits to the island could be
a means of retaliation against him.  

All of that was daydreaming.   I'm in a far more dangerous situation
than he is.  Ellsworth has so much influence that, even if I sent
proof to the media, probably the most that could happen would be his
retirement.  For him it would mean a scandal.  But, for me . . . it
could mean prison, with my ship confiscated. After all my efforts and
success . . . The risk isn't worth it. The bastard.  Not a thing I
can do.

She yelled, "You unctuous prick!"

"Careful, my Dear."  His smile broadened.  "You know how dependent
you are on my good will.  Another coarse epithet might induce me to
require a bit more of you.  More  than just providing me with this
Sheila."  

He took a step closer, and Yvonne was conscious of how his six feet
towered over her.  She felt a surge of fear.  But, even though he was
nearly touching her, she stood her ground.  For a moment she thought
he was going to grab her with his large, fat hands.

He looked down, his eyes meeting hers.  He enunciated his words
carefully.

"I suppose you lesbians are not very good at cock-sucking.  You have
no experience at it.  In your case, Yvonne, I can make an exception."

He showed his teeth in a thin smile.  "Perhaps you would visit me
tonight for the pleasure of learning the technique.  Judith will give
you directions.  Between the two of us, by morning we'll make you
quite adept at it."

Yvonne bit her lip, stifling her retort.  Tears of anger welled in
her eyes.  She turned her head, hoping he didn't observethem.

The stinking rotten bastard!  I could kill him!

"Well, I fear your steward will have to convey your disappointment
to the other clients, Yvonne.  As for the blonde, I expect you to
have her delivered to my stateroom in . . . oh, let's say, two hours.
It will give you time to prepare her for me."

Yvonne watched him softly close the door behind him and walk  to the
stairwell.

* * *

Senator Ellsworth slipped out of his bed.  He felt refreshed from
his nap.  Judith was still in the shower.  He pondered what to wear. 
This blonde girl might resist.  A bathrobe would be an encumbrance.  
He settled on a white tee shirt and white shorts without underwear.

Judith was drying herself when he appeared in the main room of their
suite.  He didn't admonish her for dampening the carpet; why bother? 
His plans for her future would serve to settle all those recent
little annoyances as well as the major problem she posed.  
Completion of his plan would  be effective and permanent.

Judith, at thirty-five, had come up in the world.  After finishing
law school and, a mere six months later passing the bar in the
Senator's southern state, she'd obtained a position on his local
staff.  Through skilled application of her abilities, both on his
staff and in his bed, in three years she'd become a permanent aide to
him in Washington.  She traveled with him almost everywhere--except
to the island.  When it was necessary to avoid media attention
travelling with him, she went incognito--often on the same plane--but
in tourist class, while he flew in first.

A pretty five foot seven inch brunette with a pert nose and soft
brown eyes, a fashionable bob and B cup breasts, she possessed a
slender, well-proportioned figure.  She was striking at the Senator's
soirees.  Many of his fellow lawmakers coveted her, but she refrained
from accepting any of their propositions. Fortunately for both the
Senator and Judith, Senator Ellworth's wife disliked capitol life. 
She seldom visited Washington.  So, when Congress was in session
Judith was the hostess who managed his social affairs.

Each summer, when Congress adjourned, Ellsworth flew to Florida and
caught the launch to the ship to Lecoliere Island.  Judith returned
to their state and her private practice.  His contacts had informed
him that she saw an occasional boyfriend among those who hadn't yet
married, including one, called Bill, that the Senator knew she was
screwing.   Then, before the next session of the Senate convened, she
flew north to visit her parents.

The more he considered his plan for Judith the more Ellsworth was
sure his decision was the best one.  During the winter break when
he'd returned to his state for the usual stroking, his supporters had
mentioned Judith as their choice for Representative in his old
district.   With the publicity that would give her, plus her looks
and talent, plus a couple of sessions as Representative, she would be
well-positioned to run for his seat in the Senate. 

Judith was ambitious; far too ambitious.  

Their relationship had been one of one hand washing the other, each
deriving a benefit from it.  But she wouldn't hesitate to supplant
him as senator.  In a primary against him, the likelihood was great
that she would win.

As for the sex, that too is wearing thin.  She no longer satisfies
all my whims.  What's worse, she's probably  the cause of my recent
embarrassing performances.  It can't be age, not yet.  Not that it's
deliberate on her part.  Her body simply holds no surprises any more--
it bores me.  True, some of my compatriots covet her.  They think her
figure is desirable. Well, so did I once.  I like my women with meat
on their bones. Those B-cup tits bore me.  I hope this blonde I've
paid for really has the D-cuppers that the album states.  The blonde
muff also.

To his wife Ellsworth would have imparted a reprimand about the
carpet, but not to his secretary-cum-attorney.  He had valued her too
much to risk rubbing her the wrong way in insignificant matters.  As
for now, there was no need to change.  In a day or so she would be
where she would no longer be a threat, not even a minor annoyance.

"I've been informed," Ellsworth told her; "that the media have
mentioned you in connection with our trips.  I want you to make it
known that you're not going with me.  You're heading home. When you
land in Atlanta, take a flight incog to Miami.   We'll stay at the
Flamingo there for a night before catching the launch in the morning.
You'll find the island quite unlike any vacation spot you've ever
been to."

* * *

Tonight should make an amusing and ironic finish to our years
together.  It will be a suitable prelude to a future she'll find so
different from her past.  I wonder if I could persuade Crane to
provide films featuring her?  Next summer when I visit the island,
I'll pick them up and take them back to Washington.  My collegues,
particularly ones who attend the  soirees that she arranges will find
them entertaining.

"You have no objection, I hope, to sharing me with this blonde .. .
um, Sheila Ericson, Judith?"

"Sharing?"  

She stopped patting her hair with the towel to look at him.  "Uh. .
. no.  No, I-I don't object Senator."  

I caught her off-guard.  She didn't anticipate that.   Now she's
probably wondering if I meant what she's thinking `share' might
involve.  A menage a trois, a lesbian tryst, or a combo of the two.

She added, "I . . . I'm inexperienced at that sort of thing,
Senator.   Uh . . .  Is this just sex?  Or is it social aswell?"

"Just sex."

She went to the walk-in closet and paused.

"What would you like me to wear?"

He thought.  

Sheila will be wearing a skirt and blouse.  Now, what would be
appropriate attire for Judith when she opens the door and greets the
blonde?  I want something memorable.

"Black stockings, with garters."  

Ellsworth paused.  He reconsidered.  

"No.  Thigh-highs will be better, with their built-in elastic tops. 
Put on black pumps, with three or four inch heels.  For jewelry, wear
your black pearl choker with its matching bracelet."

"I meant, Senator, which type of outfit did you want me to wear? A
dress?  Or a blouse and skirt?"

"Neither.  Just the hosiery and shoes."

"That's all?" she asked.

"That's all." 

It was a rare treat to see her blush.


CHAPTER TWELVE: Senator Ellsworth Abuses Judith and Sheila

When Sheila awoke, Jerry's wife Anne took her into the tiny
bathroom.  Anne, who Sheila supposed must be a few years older than
herself, was an auburn-haired beauty with a proverbial hourglass
figure, including long svelte legs and firm C cup breasts.

Sheila felt filthy both inside and out.  Fortunately, wash cloths
and towels for four people had been provided in the bathroom and,
although each had already been used, they served the purpose. With
Anne's help, Sheila was able to clean herself up.

After helping towel her dry, Anne handed Sheila a paper cup full of
water.  "You must have had a dreadful ordeal!" Anne said.

"Yes.  There were four of them," Sheila replied.  

"The worst of it was how long it lasted.  I kept praying they would
finish.  Before they did, though, I think I fainted.  I can't recall
much after that."

The taste in her mouth and reek in her nostrils had been bothering
her since she woke up.  Rinsing her mouth with water alone didn't
help much.  "I wish I had a toothbrush," she said.

"Here's a wrapped unused bar of soap," Anne said, removing it from
the cabinet.  "If you can stand soap in your mouth."

"I'll use it," Sheila said.  Despite the bitter taste of the soap,
she was relieved when she'd rinsed it all out.  Finally, the reek of
semen was gone and her mouth tasted clean.

As the two women exited the bathroom, the other prisoners were
quiet.  No one asked Sheila about her ordeal.  For that she was
grateful.  Probably they guessed some of what had been done to her.

There was a knock on the cabin door.  For the second time a male
voice told the prisoners, "Everyone stand away from this door!"

Two crewmen looked in.  One Sheila immediately recognized.  It was
Pierre.

Oh god!  Are they going to rape me again?!  

"You, Sheila!" he ordered, pointing at her.  "Come with us."

"Jesus!" Jerry exclaimed.  "Why don't you bastards leave her alone!"
He looked as though he was going to move toward Pierre.

Pierre ignored him, but the other put his hand onto what Sheila
thought must be a weapon holstered in his belt.  

But Jerry saw the motion, and he halted.  He said nothing further. 
Pierre reached out, grasped Sheila's wrist, and pulled her through
the doorway.  The other crewman slammed and locked the door.   Pierre
led her down the hall toward the stairwell with the armed crewman
following.

"W-Where are you taking me?" Sheila asked.   

"To the crew's head.  Our bathroom."

 "W-Why?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

She began to tremble, growing more fearful as she followed the man
who was gripping her hand.  

They proceeded down a flight of stairs and into another hall.

At the end of it, Pierre unlocked a door.  The entered another
corridor,  where they stopped before an open doorway.

The large, brightly illuminated room appeared to be a communal bath.
Sheila saw men's urinals, sinks, and stalls and, in the center of the
room, an enormous sunken tub.  The tops of its sides were at floor
level.  The tub and its fixtures, as well as the walls, ceiling, and
floor of the room all seemed to be made of stainless steel.  The
floor felt cold through her slipper-shoes.  

"Henri," Pierre said; "Undress her while I start filling the tub."

What followed embarrassed and humiliated Sheila.  Once she was nude,
the men walked her to one of the stalls, seated her on a toilet, and
gave her an enema.  Then they bathed her in the huge tub.  After
drying her, they positioned her on what they told her was a bidet. 
On it, she was ordered to wash herself.

After she was towelled dry, Henri told her, "Bend over.  You can put
your hands on the bidet so you don't fall."

She did as she was told, and she felt something hard and cold
pressed against her anus.  She recognized it as the nozzle of a tube
of lubricant from the episode with the four men.

When they were done injecting it into her, they led Sheila to an
open closet where clothing hung from hangers.  Most appeared to be
uniforms, either in white or in navy blue with brass buttons, but
hanging in the center were a white blouse and a black and white
striped pleated skirt.  Beside them, folded over a hanger was a pair
of black thigh high stockings, and beneath them on the metal floor,
stood a pair of glossy black flats.

"We'd better put the hood on her," Pierre said, reaching up on a
shelf above the bar.

"Don't bother," Henri replied.  "From what I saw of him last summer,
Ellsworth don't give a fuck about who sees him do squat. If you ask
me, even the Captain is leery of him, and she don't panic too easy."

* * *

The Senator glanced at the clock.  A little before twenty-one
hundred.  The blonde should be delivered to his stateroom about ten
minutes from now.  He doubted that Yvonne would risk annoying him by
delaying the girl's delivery.  

Ellsworth was pleased with himself.  His threat had intimidated her,
and it had produced the expected result: Yvonne had capitulated.

A pity though..  I'd have enjoyed seeing how the lesbian took to sex
with a man.   And it would have been interesting to see how she
reacted to being instructed by a woman half her age.  She's old
enough to be Judith's mother.  As for Judith, would she have
demonstrated giving a blowjob?  Or, perhaps she would have held
Yvonne's head, and pushed  it, moving it up and down, all the time
giving her verbal instructions:  "Lick with your tongue, Yvonne . . .
Suck it, Yvonne . . . Don't lose any, Yvonne . . . That's a good
girl, Yvonne . . . Now swallow, Yvonne . . . 

Ellsworth smiled.  It was a pleasant picture.

He intended to position the armchair so it faced the metal bars that
made up the foot of their bed.  Accordingly, he moved the chair a few
inches forward on the heavy carpet.  He moved it so that it faced the
foot of the bed about four feet from it.  

Pierre had provided him with handcuffs.  Ellsworth locked a cuff
about each of the legs at the foot of the bed.

As he sat in the armchair, his cock was alread semi-hard from
anticipating the blonde's entrance.  That was a good sign.  It
confirmed his belief that his recent problems with potency arose from
boredom with Judith  rather than from anything organic.  His shorts,
without underwear, felt comfortable enough in spite of his near-
erection..

* * *

Judith had thoroughly cleaned herself.  She had given herself the
enema that the Senator had insisted on.   She turned off the valves
in the bidet and began drying herself.  She wished she didn't feel so
uneasy.  Perhaps it was her imagination, or perhaps a lack of self-
confidence.  

But she didn't really believe that.  For some time now, not just
today, but for the last month or so Ellsworth had been distancing
himself from her.  Not in bed of course.  The Senator was too
sexually active for that.  Although, now that she thought about it,
he had recently had instances of impotence with her.  She had
ascribed that to age; men were supposed to become less virile when
they grew older.  Prescott Ellsworth was sixty.

This blonde whore that he was having delivered was partly the cause
of her uneasiness. Prescott wasn't monogamous; Judith had no
illusions about she being the only female he bedded.  But this was
the first time he wanted her and another woman to share him at the
same time.

It was also the first time he'd wanted her to fill her anus and
rectum with lubricant.  Not that it would be novel for her.  Her sex
with Bill had involved virtually everything imaginable. Bill's
participation in Gemini had exposed him--and by extension, her--with
all sorts of  D and S.  Judith had found submission to be an enormous
turn-on.  She had even gone to an occasional bar with Bill to re-
enact the episode he'd had with a couple shortly after he'd joined
the Society.

Ellsworth was another matter.  He had always handled her with kid
gloves, even though he sometimes seemed to think he was shocking her.
Sex with the Senator was pure vanilla. What turned him on was sex at
odd times and odd places.  He was enormously addicted to having her
under his desk sucking him off while he had some female visitor in
his office.   Either a visitor or that eighteen year old just out of
secretarial school.  Judith thought that some of the letters he
dictated to her were totally bogus, intended entirely to get the girl
in his office to sit across his desk from him in her miniskirt while
Judith gave him a blowjob.

Well, her goals hadn't changed.  As long as she was on his staff she
would comply with the Senator's whims.  Her own physical and
emotional needs took second place.  Like men, she had to realize that
to advance in one's career, one needed to make personal sacrifices. 
That had been made clear to her last summer when she'd returned to
their state and she phoned her boyfriend Bill--correction, former
boyfriend--Bill Starrett.  He was now engaged to Sherry, her best
friend.  

That had hurt.  But Judith had understood.  How could she expect him
to see her only during the times she was away from Washington?  The
night that he told her about Sherry, he had offered to take her to
dinner, but she had declined.  Knowing men, he might have invited her
to his apartment.  She didn't want to be exposed to temptation.   She
would have had no resistance whatever.  Bill gave her something that
no boyfriend or lover ever had before or since.

Bill had joined the Gemini society when he'd worked for a year
across the bay from San Francisco.  

Later, back in the South, he'd met a couple at the bar in a hotel
where they were staying for the night.  Somehow the conversation had
reminded him of the Gemini Society, and he'd told the couple about
it, including his own membership.  After describing some of the
activities he'd participated in, the man's wife had leaned over on
her bar stool to whisper in his ear, "I'd really like to suck your
cock."

He had gone with the couple up to their hotel room.  The husband had
tied up his wife.  He had abused her with his belt, to `get her in
the mood'.  She had fellated Bill while her husband watched.

Judith never had any inclination to inform the Senator about her
experiences with D&S.  To her, it had nothing to do with him. Until
now, she always looked forward to summer, when she and Bill would
swing with another couple and engage in B&D.  Humiliation was a real
turn-on for her.  It would arouse her like nothing else would.  
Unbelievably, sometimes amidst being forced to do or to accept some
degrading act, she would experience an orgasm, albeit a small one,
without having her clit even touched.

She threw the empty KY Jelly tube in the wastebasket.  She wiped
herself again and tossed the tissues on top of the used tube.

She thought again about the Senator's whims.  He had been subjected
to much criticism from the media.   Perhaps this spring break was
what they both needed.  They both would relax on the sand; Prescott
had said the beach was beautiful.  She'd have a tan to take back to
Washington.  For now, whatever his whims, she'd defer to them.

She stood up and slipped her robe on.  Then she thought of how he
wanted her to dress.  She felt her face grow warm.  Perhaps he wasn't
serious.  No.  He was serious.  The Senator never joked about such
things.  God, she was getting really aroused thinking of it!

At least these people on the ship don't know me.  I'll never see
them again once we're back in Washington.  

Ellsworth was seated in the bedroom armchair.  He'd positioned it so
it faced the metal bars that constituted the foot of the bed and was
four or five feet away from it.  The Senator was dressed in a tee
shirt and white walking shorts, and his legs were propped on a
footstool.  She carefully avoided looking at the tent his erection
was making in his shorts.

I suppose he's thinking about the blonde whore.

Judith withdrew a pair of her black thigh-high hose from the second
drawer of the dresser and laid out the stockings on the bed.  She
retrieved her black pumps from the closet.  She took the choker and
bracelet from  the top drawer of the dresser and stood before the
mirror above it to put them on.  She displaced strands of her hair in
the process, and she took the hairbrush from its top and brushed out
the tresses.  She walked then to the vanity, and she applied some
crimson to her lips.

In the mirror she noticed Ellsworth glance at the clock.  He gave
her a smile, but there wasn't even a trace of humor in it.

"You're stalling, Judith.  I don't want you to greet the blonde
while you're wearing that bathrobe," he said.  "Dress as I told you
to.   Hurry up; I expect that she'll be here any moment."

"I wasn't stalling, Senator."  She looked over at him from the
vanity.  "I  didn't realize that . . . oh, never mind."  She put the
lipstick in the drawer.

There was a knock at the door.  "Answer it," Ellsworth said.

Judith called loudly, "Please wait a moment!" and she stood up.

Her face felt hot as she removed her bathrobe and dropped it onto
the stool.  She was nude except for her choker and bracelet.  She
quickly ran to the bed and sat on it, grabbing one of her stockings. 
She didn't look at Ellsworth but felt his eyes on her.  She'd been
naked before him often, but for some reason she felt embarrassed now,
too embarrassed to meet his eyes.  

My god I'm getting turned on!  This is like something Bill would
have tried.  I wonder why Prescott's  trying to humiliate me? It's so
uncharacteristic of him!

She supposed he could see her muff, which she'd trimmed into a
nearly perfect isoceles triangle.  As she raised her knee and pulled
on the stocking, she observed that the dark brown of her muff was
nearly black,  nearly the same shade as her hose.

She heard the knock on the door repeated.  A male voice called
through it, "Should we bring her in, Senator?"

From the corner of her eyes she saw Ellsworth turn his head toward
the doorway. 

"No.  Wait out there," he said.  "Judith will be there shortly."

Judith drew each stocking snug.  Then she bent down, slipped her
pumps on, and stood up.

She felt his eyes travelling up and down her form as she stood
before Ellsworth.  

"Do you want me to bring her in here right away, Senator?  Should I
suggest cocktails in the parlor?"  

Her face felt hot as she felt his eyes continue to look her over.
The black stockings for some reason, made her particularly
embarrassed.  Her clit felt hard.  

I'm embarrassed but,  oh my, am I turned on!  God, I wonder if my
labia are swollen?

Judith added, "She may feel more comfortable if we converse with her
a little before getting in bed."

My god, maybe we'll have an orgy like Bill and I used to have with
Steve and Phyllis!  Except there won't be another man.  What a pity.  

"On the contrary," he finally replied.  "I don't want a party girl
to become familiar with me, Judith.  I'm speaking of `familiar' in
the old southern courtesy sense, you understand."

"Yes, Senator.  I understand.  All right."  

I feel even more embarrassed now.  He isn't the least bit the
southern gentleman that he usually is.  I don't understand it, but .
. . tonight should be interesting.  It doesn't feel very vanilla now.

She walked, carefully because of the high heels, to the stateroom
door.  Except for the black pumps on her feet, black thigh-highs on
her long legs, her choker about her throat, and the bracelet on her
wrist, she was naked.

She hesitated a moment and looked back at him.  He was watching. She
opened the door.

Two men in white uniforms were outside.  A beautiful blonde girl was
with them.  

"Holy shit!" the man before her exclaimed, staring at her.  

"Oh man!" the other said.  He began laughing.

"I'm sorry miss," the man in front said.  "We ain't accustomed to
clients coming to the door naked."  He turned to indicate the girl.  
"Here's the blonde that the Senator ordered.  Do you want us to bring
her in?"

Judith's face felt hot.  She responded hurriedly, "No thank you.
I'll take her.  Thank you, both."

She spoke to the girl.  "Please come in--is your name Sheila?"

"Yes," the girl responded.  She appeared a few years younger than
Judith, and looked even more gorgeous than the photographs had
indicated.  She was dressed very simply, in a white cotton blouse and
a black and white striped cotton skirt.  She wore flats, and black
stockings.  It was obvious that she wore no brassiere. Judith
wondered if she wore panties.  She doubted it.  What would be the
point?

* * * 

Judith watched the men turn to leave; then she closed the door
behind the blonde.  

Goodness, Yvonne certainly finds beautiful prostitutes!  This girl
could make a living as a model.  I suppose she makes more, though,
from wealthy clients.

The Senator called, "Bring her right in, Judith.  I want to look at
her."

Judith entered the bedroom, leading the blonde by the hand.  

Ellsworth didn't rise from his armchair.  He beckoned with his hand
for the blonde to approach.  "Come closer, Sheila," he said. "Stand
there."

The girl did as he requested.  To Judith, the girl didn't seem
embarrassed, but she did appear apprehensive.  Occasionally she
glanced through the doorways, first the one behind her, then the
bathroom.

"There are just the three of us, Sheila," the Senator said. "Were
you expecting someone else?"

The blonde exhaled--with relief, evidently.  "No.  But I was afraid
there might be."

"Judith," Ellsworth said to her,  "Move Sheila back.  I want her
standing against the foot of our bed."

"I'm not helpless," the blonde said.  "I can move."   She stepped
back two paces, until the back of her skirt pressed against the bars.
"Is this where you want me?"

Ellsworth nodded.  "Excellent, Sheila.  Judith, fasten the handcuffs
about her ankles."

Judith observed that the two handcuffs were all prepared.  Each
handcuff lay with one of its two manacles clamped about a bed leg,
its other manacle lying open on the carpet.

Kneeling, Judith grasped one of Sheila's ankles and pulled it close
to one bed leg.  She handcuffed it to the bed leg; then pulled the
girl's other ankle and repeated the act with it.  The blonde's legs
were spread so wide apart that Judith hoped the girl wasn't
uncomfortable.

As she knelt between the blonde's legs, Judith felt tempted to
glance up.  She was curious to see if, as she'd suspected, this young
whore was devoid of panties, but she didn't have the courage.  Her
own nakedness made her embarrassed enough, without displaying
prurient interest in addition.

"Why are you doing this?" the blonde asked, looking down at her.

"I don't know, Dear," Judith responded, smiling up in response. Even
if the blonde was a whore, she was younger than Judith.  It made her
feel more comfortable with the blonde.  She almost felt motherly
toward her.

Judith stood up.  Her nakedness bothered her, and it took an effort
to turn around and again face the Senator.  From past experience,
however, she knew he would want to direct things. She waited, her
hands at her sides.

"Sheila," the Senator said, "You will call me Master. I forgot to
mention this to you, Judith, but that means you as well.  Don't call
me by name.  From now on, you'll call me Master.  Do both of you
understand?"

"Yes, Master," the blonde replied.

"I understand, Master," Judith said.

His whims are certainly becoming strange.   Could someone have told
him about me and Bill?  Or the Gemini Society?  I can't imagine who. 
This `Master' thing hits close to home.  Bill and Steve used to have
Phyllis and me call them `Master'.  The Senator has investigators on
his stroking list.  Could he have had someone investigate me and Bill?

 "Judith," Ellsworth said.

"Yes, Master?"

"Bring me the black cloth bag that you'll find in the bottom drawer
of my dresser."

Judith complied.  She had to move two neatly folded white shirts to
retrieve the bulky bag. When she lifted it, though, she suspected
another set of handcuffs, from both its weight and the sound of metal
against metal as she removed it from the drawer.

Her guess turned out to be correct.

"Turn around, and put your hands behind you," Ellsworth toldher.

While she stood with her back to him, the Senator removed her choker
and her bracelet and dropped them in the bag.  He clamped the
handcuffs about her wrists.

Judith had long known about the Senator's handcuffs; they were no
novelty.  Sometimes he bound her to his bed, but never like this,
never behind her back.  He had four sets of them that he had gotten
from one of his FBI friends.  Using them all, sometimes Ellsworth
bound her on her back, with her hands and feet stretched out toward
the four corners of his bed, her wrists and ankles manacled to the
uprights of his antique four poster bed.

That was usually when he had the urge to use his toys on her.  He
would tease her until her clit seemed rock-hard and she felt ready to
explode.  Then he would stop.  He wouldn't allow her to come.  

Instead, he got on top of her, in a sixty-nine position.  She
dreaded that, for Ellsworth never showed any concern for how
uncomfortable it was for her.  The first time he had done that she
had gotten enormously aroused, and she had had one of her mini-
orgasms when he had started in on using her.  But not any more.  It
wasn't like getting whipped and then having sex after getting turned
on by it.  It was discomfort that lasted toolong.

Inserting his organ in her open mouth, he would shove it in as far
as it would go, until she gagged on it and his belly pressed down on
her face.  Then he would use her mouth as if it were her cunt, and he
would pump his hips, piston-like, up and down, gagging her with every
thrust, and causing her eyes to fill with tears.

She always felt a sense of relief when she heard his cry and felt
him stop, even though he kept it in her throat, and despite the
spasms when it jerked, that accentuated her gagging and her tears.

Afterwards, when he'd released her, she would sit in his recliner.  
She spread her legs, supporting them on its arms. While the Senator
watched, she used one of his vibrators.  She gave herself five or six
orgasms, until she had satisfied herself.

These handcuffs were different.  

After he manacled Judith's wrists behind her back, Ellsworth
withdrew a collar from the bag.  Of supple leather, it had a series
of rings hanging from its circumference.  A ring larger than the
others hung from its rear, and a short chain with a snap hook at its
end, hung from the large ring.

"What's the collar for?" she asked.  Bill had several of them, but
she was surprised that the Senator had one.

"You'll soon find out, my Dear," he replied, smiling.  "By the way,
please address me as I requested, Judith.  If you forget, I have a
little prompter in the bag, one that should help remind you to
address me properly."

It was a short black whip with a leather handle.  The whip end was a
flexible leather strap the length and width of a twelve inch ruler.

"Stand still," he told her.  He drew the collar about Judith's neck,
pulled it snug, and buckled it.  

"Raise your arms behind your back," he told her.  When she complied
she knew the purpose of the chain that dangled down her back.  The
Senator looped it under the short chain that linked her cuffs
together and then brought it up.  He pulled it until her wrists were
uncomfortably high, between her shoulderblades. Then he connected the
snaphook to a link in the chain, securing the handcuffs and her
wrists in their elevated position.

Judith was entirely helpless.

My god, if he just touches me, I'll explode!  Maybe he's been
reading books on B&D.

"There," he said.  "Now, each of you is ready.  We'll begin."

He sat back down the the chair.  With one slippered foot, he pushed
the ottoman aside.  "Here is your place, Judith," he said. He pointed
to where the stool had been.

Judith felt her face grow hot.  She looked at the huge tent that his
erection produced in his shorts.

Oh god.  He wants me to do that while the blonde watches!  Jesus,
the minute I get it in my mouth I'm liable to go off!

Ellsworth spread his legs.  He unzipped his fly, opened it, and with
both hands, he pushed the cloth down the length of his organ.  He
worked the cloth under his testicles until they, as well as his rigid
penis, were completely exposed.  

"You heard me," the Senator said, giving her his steely glint.
"Kneel!"

Feeling hot with a mix of humiliation and arousal, Judith obeyed.
She went to her knees before his exposed genitals.

He gave her a smile that seemed like that of a cat before a saucer
of milk.  

He spoke to them in his deep, gentlemanly voice, with its Southern
accent: 

"Each of you can see what the mere thought of seeing Sheila's bodily
charms does to me.  As Judith knows, when I'm once aroused, I never
deny myself satisfaction."   

He looked down at her again.  "Judith, while Sheila displays herself
for me, you will provide me with that satisfaction.

 "While Sheila shows me her body, you will suck my prick."


CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Senator Continues his Abuse of  Judith and
Sheila

The two men  were gone and she was alone with these two people.
Sheila's fear had virtually gone.  These two didn't frighten her. But
they were a strange couple.

A half-hour or so ago, when the two crewmen had brought Sheila
upstairs, they had been met by this brunette.  She had appeared in
the open door to them in a state just as naked as she was now. All
she wore then were shoes and stockings that ended at her thighs. 
Above them, except for a bit of jewelry, the young woman was naked. 
Now her jewelry was replaced by a collar and handcuffs and she was on
her knees facing the man's protruding sex organs.

Who are these two people?  They don't seem at all like Al and Ken,
nor are they like the man who was  their boss in that shed they kept
us in before we boarded this ship.   What does this couple have to do
with the island?

The young woman was directly in front of Sheila.  She was so close,
that if Sheila glanced straight down between her wide-spread,
stockinged legs, the woman's naked buttocks met her eyes.   The
brunette's handcuffed wrists were up her bare back between her
shoulderblades, held there by a taut chain to her collar.  Her black-
stockinged knees were her exclusive means of support.  It was evident
to Sheila that to retain her balance with her hands behind her, the
young woman had to keep her body motionless.   

The young woman was leaning forward, her face over the man's lap.
While keeping her torso motionless, she was moving her head
rhythmically, up and down.

Why is she doing this?  It disgusts me; she can't be more than a
couple years older than I am.  The man looks older than my father!

Despite trying to keep her body motionless, the brunette
occasionally moved, and she lost her balance.  The man always caught
her, and prevented her from falling to one side or the other.

Otherwise the man hardly noticed the brunette.  His attention,
Sheila could see, was entirely on herself.

He was a distinguished-looking, massive,  white-haired man who had
to be much older than even her father.  She was  embarrassed to be
watching the act being performed just a few feet in front of where
she stood with her feet handcuffed to the bed legs.  But she felt a
greater sense of repugnance that a man so old would compel a young
woman to do such a thing.

Sheila couldn't imagine why the woman, who was almost as young as
herself and sounded intelligent and perceptive,  should obey the man
so subserviently.  

He must have some power over her.  Maybe she's a prostitute.  But
she seemed too reluctant.  She didn't want to do this.  Maybe she is
one of the girls who's been enslaved.

The man saw her looking at him.  He fixed his gaze on her eyes. Then
he placed his hands on the back of the brunette's head, his fingers
in her hair.  He pushed down, until all Sheila could see of her head,
framed as it was by the white cctton of the man's shorts, was her
hair.  She heard the girl gag.  The brunette squirmed, and Sheila
knew the sounds had to be protests, although her voice was muffled.

The man's face contorted.  He moaned and closed his eyes.

When he again opened them, he smiled at Sheila.

She felt too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

"Judith has her uses," Ellsworth said.  

He wrapped his meaty hands around the girl's head, his fingers in
her hair.  He began to move it up and down.  He used it as if it was
an inanimate object; simply an instrument with which to masturbate.

"Sheila!" he said, not interrupting the action of his hands.

"Y-Yes?"  Sheila was acutely embarrassed.

"That isn't your proper response, Sheila."

"I'm sorry, Master."

"Much better.  Open your blouse.  You're not wearing a brassiere,
are you?"

"No, Master."

"Good.  Show me your tits."

Now I see why he handcuffed just my ankles.  He wants me to  use my
hands--to undress.

Sheila was proud of her breasts.  She knew that many men find large
breasts appealing.  Her embarrassment at watching the scene actually
dissipated as she unbuttoned her blouse and opened it.

"Very nice," he said, staring.  He licked his lips.  "You're
beautiful, Sheila.  It will be a great pleasure fucking you."

 There it is; he's going to screw me.  Not thatI could do much to
prevent it if I  tried.  He's so big!  Attempting  to defend myself
it would be hopeless.   I'll submit to whatever he does to me.  I'll
just get it over with.

Thank god I got that patch.  But I still don't understand why those
four men used me the way they did.  They never had normal intercourse
with me.  Not once. 

"Play with them," he said.

Now embarrassment returned.  Her face hot, she put her hands to her
breasts.  She tweaked her nipples, pinched them.   Flicked them with
her fingers.  They swelled and hardened.

"Push them together," he said.

She put her palms to their sides and squeezed them together.

"Mmm!" he exclaimed; he wet his lips again.  It was evidently a
habit he had.  Eli never did that.  

"What wonderful cleavage.  I'll certainly have to tit-fuck you."

His fingers were still about Judith's head, moving it slowly up and
down.  He began to accelerate his motion.  Suddenly, he stopped, and
he emitted a moan.  He looked down at the girl.  

"I'm close, Judith," he said.  "When I come, you're going to drink
it.."

Judith abruptly raised her head.   She said, "B-But, Master!  You
know I don't do that.  I never do!"

With one hand Ellsworth gripped the back of her head.  He forced it
back down, so far that the girl again gagged.  He held her head down
and, with his free hand, he raised the whip.  He struck hard,
bringing it down twice, first on one buttock, then on the other. The
room resounded with two loud `crack!'s.

After each blow, the brunette emitted a muffled cry.  To Sheila it
was an unintelligible `Nnnf!'  She jerked her hips from one side to
the other in an attempt to evade it, but she succeeded only in losing
her balance.  Ellsworth grasped her shoulders before she could fall.

"You may not have done it before, Judith," he responded coolly.
"But, from now on, you will."

He looked up.  "Sheila," he said, "Raise your skirt above your
stockings.  Show me your cunt."

Sheila's embarrassment returned.  It was true that holding her
breasts out for this man to view wasn't the same as showing them off
to Eli.   With Eli, she always knew that he would soon have his hands
on them,  and his fingers would grip her nipples, sending thrills 
through her.  And that he'd follow with his mouth.  Nevertheless,
even though this man wasn't Eli, she still felt pleasure holding them
out like this.

But, showing her genitals!  That was different.  It didn't matter
how much she examined herself with her hand mirror, she always
thought that they were ugly.  Even when Eli licked her and sucked her
clit, she only wanted him to do that only when it was dark. She hated
it when he left the lights on.  She was seldom able to come then--
only if the circumstances really turned her on.

"Show me your cunt!"  Ellsworth repeated.

Ellsworth lifted the whip from the chair arm.  "If I have to repeat
myself once more, I'll use this on you."  

He added, "Just think about the position you're in, with those
stocking legs of yours wide apart.  I can't whip your buttocks;
they're against the bed.  Think about it.   I'll have to whip you
where it will sting much more than it would on your ass."

"Please,, Master," Sheila said; "I'm sorry.   I'm--I'm embarrassed."

She released her breasts, and she lowered her hands to the hem of
her skirt.  She drew it up and then hesitated for a moment when it
reached the tops of her stockings.  She inhaled, gathered her nerve,
exhaled.  She pulled the hem up to her waist.  

My legs are spread so far!  God, my labia must be visible; they must
be gaping apart!

The white-haired gentleman smiled.  "In your photos your muff looked
blonde.  Sometimes colors in photographs don't accurately reproduce
color.  I'm pleased to see that yours did.  Pull your labia apart.  I
don't suppose that your clitoris is visible, but pull up its hood
anyway."

Blushing, Sheila did as he asked.  Conscious of his eyes watching,
she used the tips of her forefingers to spread her labia in front.

"Not many women have gold fuzz on their labia. Still, I like your
pink inner ones even more.  Pull up the hood."

This felt strange, opening herself down there while he watched. It
gave her a thrill.

"Do you masturbate a lot?" he asked.

"I, uh, some."  Blushing.

"Masturbate for me.  Give yourself an orgasm."

Sheila felt awkward.  "I-I don't know if I can . . . I mean, with
you watching."

"Try anyway.  When you're ready to come, spread your labia as you're
doing now.  I want to watch your clitoris.  Understand?"

"A-All right."

Sheila spread her labia further, using her other fingers as well as
her index ones.   She stroked in an oval motion around the region of
her hood, without touching it.  

She was conscious of his eyes watching.  They were fixed on her
hands.   As he watched, he moved Judith's head up and down, slowly
raising it and then quickly thrusting it into his lap. Sheila heard
the sounds of gagging, but soon moans as well, which she couldn't
understand.  In any case, the man paid noattention.

How can I masturbate?--I'm so dry!  I should wet my fingers, but I
can't.  Not with him watching.

"Oh fuck I'm going to come!" the man exclaimed.  He looked down,
gripping Judith's head.

"Drink, you slut!"

Sheila, wide-eyed, saw him clamp his hands on the back of Judith's
head.  He rose out of his armchair, gripping it.   As he pulled
Judith's head--impaled as it was by his organ, with her lips at its
base--her body rose with it.  When he was on his feet, she was on her
knees with her back vertical.  Her buttocks sat on the backs of her
pumps, turning them sideways and twisting her ankles into what had to
be uncomfortable positions.

Ellsworth's eyes were closed.  He held his abdomen thrust forward. 
Sheila could see virtually none of her face.  His white cotton shorts
covered most of it.  His exposed testicles dangled under her chin.

His organ jerked.  

Judith a muffled cry that Sheila couldn't interpret but sounded
like, "Nng-nng!"

Judith emitted a loud moan, one that continued so long that Sheila
began to wonder when it would end.  The brunette occasionally
interrupted it with an audible gulp, followed by its continuation.  

My god!  That sound she made must have lasted for a whole minute--or
more!  Why did she moan like that?  It couldn't have been an orgasm! 
But, what was it?

* * *

After his orgasm, Ellsworth didn't release Judith.  Instead, he sat
back down in his armchair, drawing her head back down with him.  He
gripped it with one beefy hand, and with the other he motioned to
Sheila.

"Your tits and cunt carried me away," he explained.  "Keep
masturbating.  Be sure to warn me when you're about to come."

He glanced down at Judith.  He raised his hand slightly, and Judith
raised her head the same distance.

"Lick it clean," he said.

God, he's disgusting!   How can he expect me to  masturbate?  I'm
not a bit excited, seeing him degrade her like this.  I'll never get
aroused,  I'm dry.   But, even  if I wet my fingers, it would be
hopeless.

"Master?" Sheila asked.  She hoped that she wouldn't anger him.

"What is it?" he replied, looking up.   Now he no longer seemed the
southern gentleman.  His eyes seemed to bore through her.

"I can't do it, M-Master.   I'll never come like this.  I'm sorry--I-
I just can't get aroused."

What will he do?  I hope he doesn't use that whip.  I could take it
on my buttocks, but not on my front!

"We'll fix that," he said.

He looked down at the brunette again.  "That was very pleasant,
Judith," he said.  "You surprised me; you really did."

He released her head and leaned back.

Judith attempted to sit up but lost her balance.  Ellsworth quickly
caught her by the shoulders and supported her.

Judith raised her head and looked at him.

"I told you I didn't want to--to do that," she said.  "You'll have
to use the whip to make me do that again!"

He laughed.   He said, in a surprisingly mild tone,  "For a naked
girl with her hands tied behind her, you're certainly defiant, Juith."

He gazed at the bound girl.  His lips displayed a thin, totally
humorless smile.

"I'll have a surprise in store for you, Judith.  Soon, you'll be
amazed at just how much you'll be willing to do."

He stood up.  Then, slipping his hands under Judith's armpits, he
lifted her to her feet.  

"Turn around," he told her.

He grasped her about the waist, and he turned her until she faced
Sheila.

God I'm embarrassed!  Still, Judith must be much more ashamed. How
could he do that to her?  Especially with me watching!  

I wonder if I should keep holding my skirt up?  I feel foolish
standing and holding it like this.  I sure don't want to anger him.  

He seemed to  have a sadistic streak in him.  For whatever reason,
he was determined to humiliate Judith.  Sheila had no intention of
getting in his bad graces.

"Judith," Ellsworth said; "Sheila is having difficulty becoming
aroused.  That's unfortunate.  However, I have a remedy forthat.

"Your mouth did very well servicing my penis."

His smile looked replete with hypocrisy.  "Let's use it to service
Sheila's cunt."

"Get down on your knees again, Judith.  Sheila, please be so good as
to hold your skirt up for her.  Since she doesn't have the use of her
hands, you may have to spread those fur-covered lips for her."

To Sheila, the brunette looked angry.  Judith didn't kneel.  She
half-turned away from Sheila to look up at him.

"What you made me do was disgusting.  Now you want me to act
lesbian.  I won't.  You'll have to make me!"

"That's easily done," he said, shrugging.  

The footstool was close to his feet.  He grasped Judith by the waist
with his two thick hands and bodily lay her with her belly over the
stool.  With her hands behind her, it was unnecessary to hold her
down as he reached back to the chair arm to retrieve the whip.

Ellsworth brought the whip across Judith's buttocks, hard.  The
young woman emitted a loud "Ow!" and her feet rose off the carpet. 
She twisted on the ottoman, looking back  at him but there was little
she was capable of to dodge his blows, and he brought it across her
buttocks again.

He struck her again and again. 

 To Sheila's puzzlement, the brunette's cries changed in tone as he
whipped her.  Surely her buttocks had to be getting increasingly
sore, but instead of  the "Ow!"s of her first few cries, they became
"Oh!"s.  Sheila looked down, and it was evident that Judith's
buttocks were a rose pink.

"All right!" she finally cried.  "I'll do what you want."

"Oh your knees, slut!" Ellsworth ordered.  

He grasped a fistful of her hair, and he pulled her by it to her
feet.  He shoved her toward Sheila.  She nearly fell, and Sheila had
to quickly raise her hands to catch the brunette. Inadvertantly, one
hand squashed Judith's bare breast, but her other arm went around the
girl and caught her.

"Y-Yes, Master," Judith stammered.  

She awkwardly went again to her stockinged knees between Sheila's
spread--and similarly stockinged--legs.

"Raise you skirt higher," Ellsworth said.  Sheila obeyed, feeling
herself blush.  

Something touched her labia, lightly.  It tickled, but Sheila knew
the touch of a tongue when she felt it.

The tickling continued, and moved about.   Sheila was too
embarrassed to look down.  She felt it insinuating between her outer
labia, and then licking her inner ones.  The tongue approached her
clit but avoided it.  It swept up the length of her vulva, parting
her inner lips like waves swept aside by a ship.  But it avoided her
clit.

"Stand up, Judith," she heard the man say.  "Kiss her."

Sheila watched as Judith, awkward without the use of her arms,
struggled to her feet.  The two young women were virtually the same
height.  It required no raising or lowering of her chin to put her
lips to Sheila's.  They felt warm, Sheila thought.  The girl's tongue
forced her lips apart, and it went between her teeth.  It touched the
roof of her mouth and stroked forward and back.   It licked her own
tongue and, without consciously deciding to, Sheila moved her own
tongue to lick Judith's.    It penetrated Judith's lips. Her nostrils
caught the scent of semen. Then she tasted lipstick, but she knew it
wasn't her own.

It must be Judith's.  Mine is long gone.  I had none left after
blowing those four men.

Judith withdrew her mouth.  Sheila watched the girl's head descend;
Judith's face went between the lapels of her open blouse.  Sheila
felt a mouth on her nipple.  The touch was like an electric shock. 
She heard herself emit an "Oh!".

Sheila felt it nibbled, and it hardened.  Lips sucked it.  Then the
mouth moved to her other breast.  The tongue swept up and down on the
nipple, flicking it.  It became as hard as her other teat.  The lips
pursed about it, and sucked.

Sheila's face grew hot.  Oh my god.  I'm getting turned on. 

Her heart raced.  She glanced toward Ellsworth.  He was back in his
chair, watching.  His penis projected out from his open shorts.  It
was hard, and bobbed in the air. 

When Ellsworth noticed Sheila's eyes on him, he smiled.  He
encircled the shaft with a hand.  Keeping his gaze on her, he began
pumping it.

Judith went to her knees again, and Sheila felt her mouth. Teeth
pulled her outer labia and nibbled them.  She felt the tongue again. 
It slithered slowly up her vulva.  The sensation was no longer of
tickling.

God--is my clit ever hard!

The tongue touched her erect knob, very lightly.  Thrills shot up
her body.  The tongue teased her swollen organ with several light
brush-strokes,  then avoided it.

Judith pulled her head back.  Sheila felt the girl's eyes onher.

Sheila, her face hot, couldn't look down.

Don't stop don't stop!  

"Master, she's getting excited."

"I'm pleased, Judith.  Continue."  

Sheila saw him reach again into his white shorts.  His hand drew out
his balls again, below his exposed and rigid penis.   He lay them
exposed, on his shorts.  His eyes remained on her the entire time. 
He again grasped his organ and began pumping it.

"When she's close," he said, "Stop.  We'll make her stew a little. 
Make her beg for it."

Judith avoided her clit.  Sheila felt that the slightest touch of
the brunette's tongue on it would send her into space.  Before
realizing it, she was thrusting her hips forward.  Sometimes she
caught Judith unawares, and she swept her vulva over the girl's face.  

Sheila glanced over Judith's back at Ellsworth.  His eyes were on
her face, but sometimes he lowered them to look at the brunette. Each
time Sheila looked at him the hand gripping his erect organ was
pumping it more rapidly.  She looked down and observed that Judith's
eyes were closed.  Her head was bent back and what Sheila could see
of her face glistened.  Sheila's nostrils filled with the scent of
her own arousal.

Oh, god I want to come!  If I can just move faster--I'll ram my clit
against her mouth!

Sheila no longer cared what they thought of her.

Abruptly, Judith pulled her mouth off.  "I think she's close," she
said.  A drop of fluid dangled from her chin.

"How is her clit?"

"Like a rock!"

He smiled.  "Does it look like a rock or feel like one?"

As he spoke Ellsworth continued to pump the skin of his erect organ
up and down, his hand moving with machine gun rapidity. His fist
struck the cotton of his shorts with force sufficient for Sheila to
hear its `slap-slap-slap-slap!'

The forefinger and thumb of his other hand encircled the skin above
his balls.  He held them out for the women to view.  He had twisted
them until the skin about them was taut and shiny.  They resembled a
pair of pink balloons that were stretched nearly to the bursting
point by a youngster sitting upon them.

"Her clit looks like a rock and feels like one, both."

Sheila's clit couldn't stand all this teasing!  She felt a powerful
urge to masturbate.  After all, it's what he had told her to do.  
But, he was so weird.  He might use the whip on her if she attempted
to put her hands to her genitals again before he told her to.

I noticed that, for a while, the brunette has gotten away without
calling him `Master'. He hasn't whipped her for that.

Ellsworth stood up.  He approached, continuing to fondle his exposed
genitals.

Judith turned her head, and she looked up at him.  "Are you going to
tell her to finger-fuck herself now?"

"I've gotten too horny.  Watching the two of you makes me want
something more active."

Judith raised her eyebrows.  "After the blowjob I just gaveyou?"

He nodded.  "This blonde really turns me on."

Isn't he going to let me come?!  Oh, Jesus!

"Get behind me," Ellsworth said.

"Behind you?" Judith asked.  She looked puzzled.

"You heard me!"

Judith struggled up again.   The moment she did, Ellsworth stood
before Sheila.  He towered over her.

Oh my god he's big.  He's like that lineman friend of Eli.  He must
be six-five or six-six!

He was still holding his genitals.  "Where would you like my cock?"
he asked, smiling down at her.  "In your mouth, your cunt, or your
ass?"

She flushed.

What should I tell him?  He's going to screw me no matter what I
say.  I don't want him to whip me as well,  by irritating him.

"Do I have a choice, Master?"

He nodded.  "Eventually I'll fuck you all three ways.  And I'll
certainly fuck you between the tits.  But not right now.  Where would
you like my prick?"

"In my mouth."

What they then did seemed  like one right out of one of the Gemini
parties that Bill had attended in California.  Ellsworth had Sheila
remove her blouse and skirt and her shoes, but he told her to leave
on her stockings.  It left her `dressed' just like the brunette.

The man temporarily unbound the brunette's arms.  With Sheila's aid,
Ellsworth tied the brunette down on his double bed, on her back.  He
didn't bind her as Sheila expected, lengthwise on the bed, but across
it.  Judith's feet hung over the far side.  Her head was nearly off
it on the near side.  The two of them tied her wrists and ankles to
the four corners of the bed, spread-eagling her.

"Sit on her face," he told Sheila, "with your back to the bed and
your feet on the carpet. If you want to come, ask Judith to suck you
off.  If she won't, then hold her head and fuck her face until you
come."

Sheila backed against the side of the bed and spread her legs. She
straddled the brunette's head.  She tried not to put her weight on
Judith's head, but the attempt angered Ellsworth.  He stood before
her and, before she knew it he swung the whip horizontally across
both her breasts striking and indenting them both.  It caused them to
quiver like  moldings of  gelatin dropped to the floor.  The pain was
excruciating. 

"Ow!" she cried, bursting into tears.

"I told you to sit!" he said.  

Shaking, and wiping her cheeks, Sheila complied.  She moved all her
weight onto the brunette's head.  She could feel her labia spread and
engulf Judith's face.

Without Sheila having to say a word, she felt Judith's lips enclose
her clit.

Oh god--this is heavenly!

Ellsworth didn't bother to remove his shorts.  Continuing to grip
his rigid organ in one hand and holding his twisted balls in the
other, he stood before Sheila.  Her position on Judith's head raised
her torso just sufficiently so her lips were in line with his penis.

"You probably couldn't observe Judith's technique," Ellsworth said;
"but, for your information, she gives excellent head.  If you aren't
as proficient as she,  I'll have you trained.  Several men on the
island are noted for their impressive cocks. I'll have them instruct
you.  Once your jaws accommodate themselves to satisfying large
diameter organs, you'll be able to please any man.  Moreover, when
these men are done, you'll be a celebrity. With them as references,
every man there will be after you."

Sheila blushed.  She would be obliged to do her utmost to please him.

"Now, Sheila," Ellsworth said; "Show me how well you suck cock."

He withdrew his hands from his genitals.  Before her face,
protruding from his fly, his penis sagged slightly; below them, his
testicles dangled down the front of his cotton shorts.

Sheila reached up with one hand to grasp his penis by the base.
Opening her mouth, she took the head between her teeth.

Thank goodness this  isn't in proportion to his physique.  It would
be as big as Jerry's.  It might feel great in my cunt, but there's no
way I could have gotten it in my mouth!

She was gratified that, unlike his actions with Judith, he didn't
pull her head down onto him.  He stood  motionless, watchingher.

I'd better give him a good one; this old man has a sadistic streak. 
I wouldn't like to feel that whip on my breasts again. It's
incredible how he hurt both of them with one blow.

I'll give him a bj like I gave Eli; he ought to love that!

She began by lightly pumping the skin from the base of the shaft
while holding the head in her mouth.  She wet it with saliva and
licked the underside of the head, lapping up and down over the slit.  

Eli told me that he was most sensitive around the slit.  I guess
that's why he always drove it in so hard.  Lucky for me his cock
wasn't too long.  It never hit my uterus.

She took his balls in her free hand and twisted them.

I'd better get the skin tight like he did before it gets all wrinkly
and insensitive.

When she had them tight in the sack, she withdrew her mouth from his
cock to give them some attention.  She swept her tongue over them,
intent on covering every millimeter of the taut skin.  She lowered
and turned her head.  Using the tip of her tongue, she flicked and
jabbed their sensitive undersides, and between the globes.  Gripping
the skin above them with encircling fingers and thumb so they
dangled, she lapped them, making them swing back and forth, pendulum-
like.

Ellsworth moaned.  His legs shook, and he staggered.   Sheila looked
up.  His eyes had closed.

She put her mouth back on the shaft.  She commenced rocking, holding
her mouth so the head slid forward and back on her tongue. 
Unintentionally, the motion pressed her clit between Judith's teeth.

Her clit was getting more and more excited.  Judith's lips around it
kept up a delicate but continuous sucking. Again Sheila felt ready to
take off.  This added turn-on of having a cock stuffed in her mouth
was going to make her first orgasm an explosion!

Jesus!  I'm going to come all over Judith's face if  this keeps up. 
Her chin, or whatever it is that I'm pressing down on, is stimulating
the hell out of my urethral sponge.  God, I'll be really embarrassed
if I ejaculate on her!

Ellsworth was moaning continuously.  

Occasionally Sheila looked up at him.  His face was distorted in a
grimace that was familiar to her.  Every guy's countenance
transformed something like that when she gave a really fat blowjob!  

Sometimes Ellsworth opened his eyes, but not often.

He's concentrating  on how good his cock feels in my mouth.

"Jesus, Sheila," he exclaimed, opening his eyes, "You could give
lessons!"

Sheila smiled to herself.  She accelerated her rocking motions. She
took the head deep into the back of her mouth, stopping just before
it gagged her.

 Before she expected it, Ellsworth emitted a loud yell, and semen
doused her tongue.  He cried, "Fuck! Fuck! Swallow it, bitch!"

Judith evidently heard him also.  Her tongue began to vigorously lap
Sheila's clit, and her lips alternately sucked it in between her
teeth and blew it out.

Sheila's own orgasm overwhelmed her.  She closed her eyes and, as
the waves coursed through her she yearned to yell, but her full mouth
made that impossible .  It was as powerful as any she'd ever had.

Oh Christ--I'm having a double orgasm, clitoral and vaginal!  It
feels like I'm peeing--poor Judith--I'm squirting all over her face!

After the first taste of fluid on her tongue, Sheila pulled her
mouth from his organ.  She grasped the shaft in her hand and held it
an inch from her lips.  The next spurt doused her cheek, but then she
pressed the head down on her outthrust tongue, aimed between her
parted lips.  

All the subsequent squirts arced to the back of her mouth where,
with her eyes closed, she gulped them down.   


CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Janine & Holly in Training, Part Two

Holly held her hand over her panty-stuffed mouth.  She was sitting
beside Nina on the sofa.  She looked over at the table. Kelly was at
the table in the center of the room, leaning over the bound Janine,
instructing her.

Kelly put her face down close to the brunette's.  She said, "What's
my name?"

"Uh, Kelly," Janine responded. "I mean Mistress Kelly."

"That's better.  How old are you, Janine?"

"Twenty-two. . .  Mistress Kelly."

"I knew you were older than me! I'm eighteen.  That's funny, I'm not
as old as you but I'm your teacher.  Don't you think that's funny,
Janine?"  

"Yes, Mistress Kelly.  Very funny."

Crane thought he detected a strong portion of sarcasm in the girl's
response.  He interrupted.  "Kelly, I don't think Janine is serious
about her instruction. Do you?"

"No, Master.   I think she needs more incentive." 

Kelly motioned to the guards, who had been watching from the bar.
"Miguel, Jose, would one of you escort Holly here?  Please tie her to
the table next to the one that  Janine is on."

"I'll do it, Kelly," Miguel responded.  Holly was beside Nina on the
sofa.  She seemed preoccupied with opening her jaws to insert fingers
between her teeth and rearrange the wad in her mouth. Miguel walked
over to her.  He reached down and grasped her hand. Holly looked up.

"Follow me?" he asked, smiling down at her.  Unlike Janine, she
nodded and tried to smile in reply.  She failed because of her
stuffed mouth, but she obediently stood up, and she allowed him to
lead her to a table close to Janine's.

At the table he told her, "Bend over".  Blushing, she complied. He
bound her hands as he had the brunette's.  When he was finished she
was bent at the hips as Janine was, her legs straight down to the
floor and her body straight out on the table.  Her  D-cup breasts
were squashed under her.

"Shall I undo Janine now?" Kelly asked, looking at Crane.  "For
lesson Two?"

Crane replied, "Yes.  I'll get an armchair for her."

A little training of Janine should get me good and horny. Prepare me
for enjoying her later.  It's been a long while since I've ass-fucked
a girl all night!

Crane stood up.  He pulled a wide-armed recliner over the carpet
until it was between the sofa on which Nina sat and his own armchair.
Rita and the three men with her were watching.  They must have
realized that he was intending to move Janine to the chair, because
they immediately repositioned their own chairs.

Crane went to Janine and knelt down behind her.  He raised each foot
in turn to remove the ring of black nylon from about her ankles.  He
stuffed them in a pocket of his jeans.  Then he undid Janine's bonds
and led her toward the recliner.

As she reluctantly followed, she asked him, "Aren't you interested
in knowing who I am?"

"Learn to speak when you're told to," he responded.  He turned her
and shoved her backward.  She fell onto the armchair.  

"God you're uncivilized!" she exclaimed.  "Don't you know who I am?"

Crane had what he sometimes thought was a pathological distaste for
having a person's story imposed upon him.  Even though he planned to
interrogate Janine, her offer of gratis information annoyed him.

"No," he replied. "Nor do I care."

"Well, you should," she persisted.  "I'm the daughter of the French
Consul in New York!  Everyone must be looking for me.  You could
still let us go, you know.  Holly and I don't know for sure where
this is.  Of course,  I think this is Colombia, but I'm not sure. 
Have you notified my parents that you're holding me?  They aren't
millionaires, you know."

I don't know  if she's trying to intimidate me, impress me, or annoy
me.  In any case, she's interesting.  Brainy.  But, foolish.  

"Why should I notify your parents?"

"For ransom.  Isn't that why you kidnapped us?"

Ransom certainly seems a plausible reason, even a probable one. But
not if she considered the clients she's seen here, and the collars on
Kelly and Nina.  She's not thinking.

"Janine," Crane said; "Use the recliner.  Lean back."

She blushed.  "You know very well why I won't.  You have my panties
in your pocket.  Even if I were wearing them, I wouldn't lie back.  I
felt practically naked when that's all I had on under this skirt."

"Well," Crane said, "your next lesson is going to require that you
do much more than that."

"Lesson?  You're acting crazy again.  Like this `Master' silliness."

"Lesson Two begins now," he said.  

"Lesson!" she exclaimed, mocking.  "Well, then, Master, just what
will you teach me?"

"You want to know what you'll be taught?" he responded, mildly.
"It's simple enough--to masturbate in public."

"W-What?" Her face turned pink.

"Pull up your skirt," he told her.  

"Spread your legs so your audience has an unobstructed view. Then,
support your legs on the chair arms.  Lean back in the recliner. 
Finger-fuck yourself."

Blushing, she said, "I won't even listen to you."

"I haven't yet disciplined you for not addressing me properly.
That's simply because teaching you this is more important. Punishing
you for improperly addressing me will come later.  Now, lie back and
play with yourself."

"You are crazy, aren't you?  I'm not listening to anything else you
say!"

"You don't think a whipping will persuade you to follow my order?"

Her smile bordered on a sneer.  "Whip me until you draw blood for
all I care.  I'll never do what you said."

"Who said `whip you'?"

"What?"  She looked puzzled.  "What do you mean?"

Crane, with a motion of his head,  indicated the girl bound to the
table.  "Your friend Holly is the one we'll whip."

Putting her hand in front of her mouth, Janine exclaimed,  "Oh, no! 
You're not serious!  You wouldn't do that!"

"Not only would I," Crane responded; "but you have just sixty
seconds to begin playing with yourself.  After that, Kelly will begin
whipping your friend Holly's ass."

* * *

Nina turned to Kelly, who was sitting beside her on the sofa, not a
cushion but on its arm.  She said,  "It looks like Crane is giving 
you all the work today, Kelly."

Kelly laughed.  "I don't consider it work.  Do you?"

Crane called over to them. "Kelly, " he said, "Use the cat on Holly
not my belt.  I want to be sure of Janine's compliance. The cat is
far more effective--it's a sure thing."

Kelly nodded.  "O.K., Master Crane.  I need practice using a cat
anyway."  She turned to Nina.  "Can I borrow your cat, Nina?"

Nina reached down into her bag.  "Jesus,  Kelly," she responded.
"You should really take a walk to the shed and get a supply of your
own."

She handed the whip to Kelly.  The dirty blonde carried it over to
the table where Holly was bound.  Kelly got behind the girl.

She grasped the hem of Holly's skirt and pulled it up, exposing the
girl's bare buttocks and genitals.  Her panties were stuffed in her
own mouth.  

Kelly raised the whip.

Crane watched with a feeling of disappointment.  He had hoped for
more initiative on Kelly's part.  Whipping without preliminaries
wasn't any better than what a male trainer would have resorted to.

If it were Nina she'd have fingered Holly, to embarrass her more.
Well, I won't say anything now.  I'll ask Nina to give her a few
pointers.  I don't need another trainer who has no recourse except to
the whip.

He saw Kelly look about the room, apparently to be sure everyone was
watching.  Kelly turned the whip.   She held it as if the balls were
the nib of a pen which she'd use to write something with on Holly's
bare back.  Kelly trailed its dangling plastic balls down the base of
Holly's spine.  She drew them further. She drew them slowly between
Holly's buttocks and onto her pudenda.  She stroked them up and down.

She struggled, attempting to move her hips away, but without
success.  Her face looked pink from embarrassment.   The muffled
sounds from her stuffed mouth were probably, "No-no!" Crane supposed.
But they came out as "Mmmf-mmmf!"

That's better.  Good for Kelly.

Holly abandoned her side-to-side struggles.  She suddenly jerked her
hips forward, but only to strike the table.  It failed to deter
Kelly's hand.

Crane glanced at his watch. "Thirty seconds.  Thirty to go, Kelly. 
I'll tell you when to start whipping her."

Janine had still not leaned back in the recliner.  She was staring
down between her thighs.  Her hands gripped the hem of her skirt,
which she'd drawn up to her groin.

"Oh god!" she exclaimed.  "I can't do this.  I can't!"

Kelly was stroking the cat up and down, lightly, over Holly's fur-
covered outer labia.  The tiny balls bounced and danced on the flesh,
and Holly began twisting her hips, trying to avoid the contact.  She
uttered more muffled sounds that Nina supposed were protests.  Her
face was pink with embarrassment.

"Time Kelly!" he said.

"Can I whip her now?"

"Certainly."

Kelly was tentative at first.  She brought the cat across Holly's
ass without enough force to strike it in just one area.  The tails
scattered broadly over her rear, with one or two landing on her
labia.  She jumped, however, and she emitted a louder protest than
previously.

Crane looked down at Janine.  Her fingers still gripped her skirt,
holding it partway up, but she was looking over at Holly.


Crane said, "Kelly, you'll have to do better than that.  Janine here
needs encouragement."

"All right, Master Crane."  She bent down over Holly and told the
girl, "This is because your friend isn't cooperating."  

Kelly straightened up and drew her arm back.  She brought the whip
across the girl's thighs rather than on her buttocks, in a hard,
vicious blow.  It struck below Holly's ass, across her labia as well
as her thighs.  Several of the plastic balls penetrated between the
furry outer lips.

Holly's feet shot out from under her, and her body slid forward
across the table. The girl emitted what was doubtless a shriek. 
Muffled though it was, everyone in the room heard her `Mmmmff!!'  Her
head hung over the far edge of the table, and Kelly had to pull her
back by the waist, until her feet were again on the carpet.

Tears ran down her cheeks, and Crane could see she was sobbing
although he could barely hear her.

Janine seemed frozen in her chair.  She was nervously gnawing her
lower lip, looking from Holly to her lap, her hand gripping the hem
of her skirt.

Kelly didn't wait for Holly's muffled sobs to cease.  She aimed and
again brought the whip across the girl's thighs; this time so that
virtually all the plastic bearings struck her pudenda.  A countless
number penetrated the outer furry ones to impact the sensitive inner
ones.

Holly's scream was muffled, as the previous one had been, but was
louder than the previous one.  The entire audience heard her loud
`Mmmmff!!'.  This time, Kelly held the girl's shoulder with her free
hand.  Instead of landing flat out on top of the table, her hips
thrust forward at the blow, and her thighs struck hard against the
table edge.

Besides the tears running down her cheeks, her sounds of sobbing
were audible in spite of the gag.  In her distress, some of the black
nylon had come loose from between her teeth, and an elastic loop
dangled from her lips to her chin.

"Oh, stop it, please!" Janine said from the recliner.  She wiped
tears from her eyes with her palms.  "I'll do what you want."

"We'll see," Crane said.  "Wait a moment, Kelly.  Hold up with the
whip until we see if Janine means it."

"I do," Janine said.  

She parted her legs.  She kept her eyes down.  She seemed too
embarrassed to meet anyone's eyes, and she kept them down as she
moved her thighs onto the arms of the chair.  She spread them so that
her legs, from the knees down, dangled over the sides. Blushing
intensely, she drew up the hem of her skirt to her waist.

Her muff was a jet black triangle.  Crane thought she must trim it;
it looked too well-formed.  Janine hesitated a moment; then she
inserted her forefingers between her labia and spread them.

"Push back the recliner!" he ordered; "When you sit up like that,
how do you expect anyone to see your cunt?!"

Janine reddened again.  She pressed her lips together, perhaps in an
effort not to cry.  Or, perhaps to suppress some retort.  

She gripped the chair arms and pushed back.  The chair back abruptly
fell behind her, and she fell with it, to lie prone. Her hips had
been thrust up by the chair seat.  Her genitals were in plain view to
everyone.

"That's better," Crane said.  "Now, finger-fuck yourself.  Don't
hide what you're doing, or Kelly will resume disciplining your blonde
friend.  Show everyone how you masturbate."

"Oh, please!" she exclaimed, flushing.  "Don't talk like that."

"Be sure to make yourself come," Crane added.  "You'll keep doing
this until you  have an orgasm.  When you're about to have one, tell
me.  I'll put a finger on your clit.  I'm not going to let you fake
an orgasm."

Everyone watched as Janine moved her fingertips about in her vulva. 
She spread her inner labia about, and inserted fingers in her vagina.

She began crying.  "I-I can't come like this.  I'm . . . I'm just
not excited.  I'm sorry.  I'm trying, but . . ."

Crane bent over her chair.  He put his forefinger between her legs.

"You're dry," he said.  "Stick your fingers in your mouth.  Wet your
cunt with saliva."

Red-faced, Janine put her fingers to her lips and wet them. Crane
continued to urge her until her labia glistened with saliva.  Then,
looking down, she began moving her fingertips about in her vulva,
slowly drawing them in an oval, spreading her inner lips as they
moved.  She avoided the hood to her clitoris for a long time, but she
periodically dipped first one, and then two, and finally three
fingers in her vagina.

"Master Crane, may I speak?" Nina called from the sofa.

"Yes, Nina.  What is it?"

"Um, a lot of new girls have this problem.  We usually cheat a bit
by getting them turned on first.  You know, like with a vibrator.  If
we have the time, sometimes we get a slave.  Of either sex; my own
preference is for a male.  I have him give her a tongue job.  Then we
let her continue on her own.   It's a bit like starting a stove
burner with a pilot light."

Crane smiled at the simile.  "It's a fine idea, Nina.  I have the
time; what's your preference?"

"I have a vibrator--two, actually--in my bag.  That's the easiest
way to turn her on."

* * *

"Oh god!" Janine exclaimed  She was holding her hands over her face,
too embarrassed to look at anyone.  She lay back in the recliner,
with her hips the highest part of her body, her legs spread and
supported on the arms.  Nina was kneeling on the raised foot of the
chair, holding the Magic Wand to Janine's vulva.  The Rabbit was
working away in Janine's vagina.

"Jesus, Master Crane!" Nina said.  "Her clit is pretty fucking big!"

"Already?" Crane asked.  "Take the vibrator away so I can take a
look."

He bent over the chair and grasped Janine's outer labia, pulling
them wider apart.

"Oooh!" Janine said.

Crane smiled.  The girl's clitoris was indeed large; nearly the size
of his thumb.  "You must masturbate a lot," he said to Janine.

"Oh please!" she exclaimed.  "Don't say that!"

"Are you close to an orgasm?" he asked.  

"I-I think so," she stammered.  

"Stop the Wand," he told Nina.  "And take out the Rabbit.  She's
liable to come any second."

Nina took the vibrators back to the sofa and her bag.

Janine lay as she had been while Nina was applying the toys, with
her hands over her face.  Crane reached down.  He slipped his
forefinger into her vulva.

"Oh!"  Janine said.  She took her hands away and looked up at Crane.
"W-What are you doing?"

"Seeing how juicy you are."  He withdrew his finger.  "Here. Lick it
off." His finger glistened and a droplet hung from his fingertip.

"Oh, no--please!" she exclaimed, her face red.  She turned her head
aside.

"Whenever you're disobedient," he told her, "Holly will be
disciplined in your place.  Kelly!" he called.  

"Yes, Master?"

"Discipline Holly once more."

"Oh no!  Don't!" Janine cried.  "Wait--I'll do it."

She pulled herself up on the recliner, blushing.  She grasped
Crane's hand.  She held it before her face.  She extended her tongue,
and she licked his dripping forefinger.  When she had finished, until
only her saliva remained on it.

"Good," Crane said.  "You're learning.  Now finish masturbating.
Remember to warn me when you're about to come."

He went back to his armchair and seated himself.  

Janine seemed to have lost her defiance.  She drew up her skirt
again but this time she fixed it in place by tucking the hem into its
waist.  She still avoided looking at any of her audience, instead
keeping her head down as she put her hands between her thighs.  Her
forefingers went to work, and soon she closed her eyes.  She emitted
a long sigh, and she leaned back. Her fingers continued to stroke,
moving her labia aside as one forefinger wiggled from side to side
over her now exposed and engorged clitoris.  

Janine let out a deep breath, and her other hand moved further down.
Fingers disappeared, and her hand began to move foreward and back.

Finger-fucking herself  with one hand and working on her clit with
the other.

Crane stood up, and he returned to her chair.  "Stop what you're
doing and get up," he told her.

"W-What?" she responded, looking up.  "Stop?"

"Yes, and get out of the chair."

Crane grasped her arm, and he helped her from the recliner.

He saw that she was about to straighten her skirt, removing the hem
from its waist and he told her, "Leave it as it is.  Come with me."

He grasped her hand in his.  He smiled feeling her sticky fingers,
and he led her to the table where Rita and her three male co-client
companions were sitting.

"Janine is going to give you a command performance," he told them. 
"Janine, continue playing with yourself for this select audience."

The brunette blushed again, and Crane thought she was about to
object.  Instead, she asked, "Do-Do you want me to come?"

"Yes."

Standing with her legs apart, Janine fingered herself.  She closed
her eyes almost immediately.  Apparently she'd lost much of her
reluctance, for her fingers worked at her clitoris and vagina without
hesitation.  

After a few minutes, one of the men at the table stood up.  He
unbuttoned her blouse.  The interruption caused Janine to open her
eyes.  He left her blouse undone with her breasts exposed, and he
returned to his seat.  Janine again closed her eyes.

Janine began to moan.  Her hands began to move faster, and she had
two fingers upon her clit, straddling it, working from side to side.

She opened her eyes.  "I'm close, Master," she said.

Crane reached between her legs.  He touched her swollen knob as
lightly as he could, but that was evidently enough to send Janine
over the edge, and she emitted a loud moan.  He felt her spasms
immediately.  He gently stroked her organ, until she shuddered, and
he removed his hand.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Captives Arrive on the Island

After a wait of over an hour, during which sounds on the ship
diminished, the door was unbolted and two guards, each wearing a tan
uniform, appeared in the doorway.  

"We're going ashore now," one of the guards told them.  "None of you
speak unless a Master or a guard orders you to.  Follow me."

Sheila immediately stepped to the front, and she followed him out
the door.

I'll get right behind him.  If I'm up front I may be able to observe
things that people behind me won't be able to.

Sheila followed the man, who was mustached, black-haired and heavily
tanned.  He appeared young, possibly no older than she. He and the
other guards looked Mexican, or at least like actors whom she'd seen
play Mexicans in movies.   She noticed, that although he carried no
revolver, he did have a device in his belt which resembled a
policeman's truncheon--except that the end opposite the plastic
handle looked metallic.  She and the other captives followed him up
three flights of narrow, railinged stairs that were so separated that
Sheila was forced to lift her feet high at each step

Oh god, what a mistake it was, to get in front.  Without my panties
on, I'm displaying everything with every step!

Her face felt on fire when the group finally stood on the upper
deck.  She felt so embarrassed that she didn't want to look back at
the captives who had followed her.  

A moment later Edgar was at her side.  He whispered, "I tried to ask
about you, but the few times a guard appeared, he wouldn't say a
thing.  He wouldn't even tell me if you were on the ship."

Looking around wasn't easy.  After the dimness of the cabin the
sunlight was blinding, and they were forced to squint just to see the
white sand of a beach a few hundred yards away. 

Sheila led the group, following the guard down a long ramp.  It led
from the deck to a pier that stood high out of the water on concrete
pillars.

Anyway, by being in front I'll see more of the island.  

When they reached the beach their eyes had partially adjusted to the
sunlight, and they saw that the wood of the pier connected to a long
boardwalk that extended to the left and right, paralleling the
shoreline and beach.  The guard turned to the right, and the group
followed.

Because of the sun's heat, Sheila felt grateful for the lightness of
her garments.  After several minutes they reached a grove of trees
where the boardwalk ended.

Sitting in the  shade in plastic chairs and sipping drinks were
about a dozen men and three women, all  elegantly dressed in tropical
wear,  the men in white.  Two of the women, a blonde and a brunette,
Sheila guessed were in their forties.  Both wore diaphenous evening
gowns as transparent as the captives' garments.  Although she was
afraid to stare, Sheila managed to examine the brunette from the
corner of her eyes.  She couldn't perceive anything under the woman's
thin blue outerwear, but she was a little too far from the woman to
be certain. 

The gowned blonde woman was arrayed in an excess of jewelry and wore
a scarlet gown.  The brunette, who was attired in a tasteful sky blue
gown, must have each been voluptuous when younger.  Her figure was
still attractive but her abdomen and hips had probably acquired more
girth than she wanted.

The younger woman was a trim redhead with a pretty face and an
attractive, slender, schoolgirlish figure.  She wore a white
miniskirt that displayed her fine legs, a white halter that contained
apparently fine breasts, ones that probably took B-cup brassieres
when she wore them, and sandals.

Despite the prisoners having being warned not to talk, Edgar risked
a whispered, "Rich.".  

Sheila gave him a serruptitious nod.  

After the group of prisoners were halted, one of the men in white, a
tall, muscular man with a hawk-nose and wearing a broad-brimmed hat,
got up from his chair.  He turned to face his well-dressed companions
and asked,  "What do you think of them?"

They took their time.   One of the other men stood and approached
the boardwalk. He examined Sheila first, looking her up and down;
then he examined the other women and girls, scanning each figure
leisurely.   Finally he smiled and said,  "You've outdone yourself, 
Crane.  This bunch is fantastic."  

"For once, John, I agree with you, the redhead said.  Crane, you're
to be congratulated.  These girls are model material."  

John said, "Almost every one could be a Playboy centerfold. Where
the fuck did  you find them?"

The tall man smiled.  "That has to be a trade secret, John.  All I
can say is it was an involved operation acquiring them.  And expensive.

"Remember that during the bidding.  For those attending an auction
for the first time, I'll inform you now that the starting figure is
ten, so don't pretend to be shocked when I repeat that later.  If you
really want to compliment me, don't be niggardly during the bidding."

"The men aren't bad, either, Crane,"  the blonde woman said. "I'm
glad you brought three this  time.  Were you thinking of me when you
chose them?"  

"I'm always thinking of you, Deirdre."  

Another of the seated men spoke.  "You have taste, Crane.   Nice
teats on every one. That one at the end, especially.  Have her give
us a look at her knockers."

Sheila glanced back.  She supposed the man was referring to the
petite college  girl with the long black hair, Robyn.

"You'll have to wait until later, George.  There will be time  to
see what she has during the auction."  

The other buxom woman said, "George has the usual big tit fetish
that all you men have. You men should realize that shape is more 
important than size."


Another man snorted.  "I'm a tit man, too.  They're all fine with
me, even the ones on the skinny broad.  All their knockers are big
enough for me."

"I 'm with George," another man interjected.  "When it comes to
tits, the  bigger the better.  When I get a new slave, the first
thing I do is have her push her tits together for me to fuck.   For
that, they have to be big."  

"Speaking of sizes, Crane" the blonde interjected, I hope that this
time you  got at least one man with a good-sized cock."  

"Rita," Crane responded; "Do you expect me to advertise for them?
Anyway, I have no idea what you'd consider `good-sized'."  

"Well, if you don't, let's have a look at them!  With all the
bidding that will go on for these adorable females, it will be dinner
time before you get to the men!"  

Crane shrugged.  "O.K., but let's make it quick.  I need to process
them and then have them made up and dressed.  I want to start the
auction with plenty of daylight.  Guard!  Direct the three males to
show the ladies their assets."

The lead guard motioned to Edgar and the other two men, indicating
that he wanted them to raise their aprons.  Although he didn't act
pleased by the request, Edgar raised his apron to  his navel.  Anne's
husband Jerry, who was beside him, did the same.  

But Bill, Jane's young boyfriend, who was a  husky eighteen year old
that looked built for football, refused.  

"You there,"  a guard shouted; "Raise it up!"  

"Not in front of these women.  Who in hell do you think you are?,"
he responded.  

Two guards approached him.  Bill didn't appear at all intimidated. 
He sneered.  Bill was at least  a head taller than either of them,
and at least fifty pounds heavier.  He looked confident and,
considering the disparity in size, probably expected no more  than an
argument.  

The two guards were holding the rods and, when one passed near
Sheila, she realized that what had appeared to be a glass or clear
plastic lens was actually shiny metal.  The guard passed slightly
behind Bill and deftly shoved the tip beneath the young man's
buttocks.  He flicked it upward between Bill's legs.


Bill emitted a cry.  He fell, groaning, to his knees off of the
boardwalk and into the sand.   

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, bent over in the sand on his knees.  He was
retching, his hands holding his testicles.  

Crane said, "You've just seen the effect of one of our slave
training tools, a cattle prod. Any slave considering disobedience
should consider its effect on that young man.  A few thousand volts
applied to a sensitive area of your body will produce dramatic
improvements in yourbehavior.

"We seldom need to use them.  One application is usually sufficient.
We also use whips.  They aren't as effective.  You'll find you can
tolerate the whips.  Because of that, you'll find that some Masters
will use the whips on you simply for their pleasure.  That's their
concern, I have no interest in how Masters amuse themselves.  

"In the next few weeks, most of you will be trained.  You'll do
chores such as kitchen duties, meal serving, cleaning, and so on. 
Those activities we would otherwise need to pay servants for.  We pay
no servants here.  You slaves will do all of the tedious work.  

"Of course, your work as servants, although necessary, is not why
you were brought here. We have a wealthy clientele.  We provide them
with beautiful women to use for their pleasure.  Generally, we train
a new slave before she is delivered to the client who purchases her,
so she has the knowledge and experience to satisfy his every desire,
without the need for him to explain.  He need do no more than state
his wishes. 

"A few masters prefer an untrained slave, a girl or woman just as
you are, right off the boat.  Such a master prefers to initiate the
female himself.  In such cases, we deliver her to her master with her
neck, wrists, and ankles suitably manacled.  The bracelets, as well
as her collar have snap hooks to fit fixtures in  our client's
apartment, so we can locate and position her where he wishes.  Each
of you will visit one of the apartments and, when you do,  you'll
note that the fixtures are not solely attached to his bed.   Several
walls have them, as do the floors of the bedroom and kitchen, as well
as the dining room and kitchen tables. 

"Three of you happen to be men.  I'll speak for your benefit now.
Although I chiefly import women--since most of our clients are men,
and they are usually heterosexual--I do intentionally obtain some
men.  A few are also obtained accidentally in the process of
obtaining women.

"We have a few women clients.  You men will be their slaves.  Our
women clients have, I would say, varied tastes, even more so than our
male clients. Not infrequently, one of our female clients purchases a
girl, or even a couple.

"I have a few more comments about you females.  Some of you,
especially the younger ones among you, may be inexperienced in some
sexual practices.   I realize that two or three of you are only
sixteen or seventeen years old.  You need not worry; you'll be
thoroughly trained.  When you're released to your Master's custody,
you'll be able to provide him with whatever he desires of you."

A female slave in a blue shift produced a prod from her pocket. He
held it up.  To Sheila it looked rather longer and fatter than the
one the guard had used on Bill.

"This is the type of prod used by our clients, as well as by an
occasional guest.  It has an on-off switch accessible to the
wielder's thumb.   In the base is a voltage dial.  You've probably
noticed the phallic contour of the metallic, 'business', end of the
prod.    I'm sure you can guess the purpose for that.

"Here, our clients and guests--also our trainers I might add--have
considerably more discretion than the guards in how they use the
prods. Sometimes a slave approaches me with complaints about how her
Master uses his.  Please don't  waste my time with such complaints. 
I have no interest or opinion concerning how your Master utilizes
prods or other means of discipline.  When you've been sold and I've
been paid for you, my interest in you ends."

He paused, looking thoughtful.  "There is one exception to that. A
few slaves have special status here.  They work for me exclusively,
and they have special privileges.  If one of you has such an interest
in working for me, I'll be willing to interview you.

"One more thing.  I'll try to be brief.  This afternoon will be a
busy one for you.  You'll be required to provide information about
yourself, in writing.  You'll be given a thorough examination. 
You'll be prepared for the auction, which means you'll be bathed,
perhaps shaved, made up, and suitably dressed to attract bids.  
You'll be auctioned off.  Then, if your new owner chooses to have my
staff train you, you'll be taken to a two-person cell, where you'll
stay during your training period. If your new owner prefers to
receive you untrained, you'll be delivered tonight to his apartment.

"The auction should take place before dinner tonight, at around
seven.  The auction for the men will follow dinner, and will be at
around ten-thirty."

END OF PART THREE (The author would appreciate readers' comments
regarding this work)







-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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