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From: Rod OSteele <rod.osteele@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} White Slaver Part III (Mf, ff, non-con, caution) {Rod O'Steele}
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Date: Tue, 27 Jun 2006 19:10:01 -0400
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by the author unless explicitly waived.  Non-commercial re-posts
to ASSM or similar venues are allowed provided copyright information
remains on the re-posted story.  As a courtesy to the author please do not
delete the copyright information.  No commercial reprints are authorized.



   The author relishes your comments at rod.osteele (at) yahoo (dot) com.
If you like this story, see my other stories at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/osteele/www.



   WARNINGS: This story depicts consensual sexual activity between men and
women, or women and women.  Some of the participants in the story may be
under the age of 18.  If you are too young to read about sex please do not
read this.  The law says you teens should remain in ignorance of the thing
you think about the most.





   White Slaver



   Part III





   And so Katrina's life drifted along on waves of sex and sensuality. 
There were no weeks or months, no real seasons.  Only sex and play.  Every
so often the Master would call for her.  Sometimes he would make love to
her, sometimes he would simply take her, use her.  She learned to like
both. Her body learned to respond to the feel of a man taking her.  She
learned to like taking him in her mouth, milking his sweet seed and
drinking it down.  It was expected by Him and taught and accepted by the
girls.  What influenced her the most was the way the other girls strove to
become the best sexual partners they could be, to please a man totally.  In
short, she had been trained to be a perfect pleasure slave.



   In the nights, she had the other girls.  She learned to love sharing a
couch with Jasmin or Natasha.  She loved the fragile beauty of Siobhan,
making love to the girl until Siobhan begged her to stop.  She liked to lay
with little Anna, the two of them fitting together so well.  And finally,
one night she worked up the courage.  After the other girls were asleep,
Katrina snuck to the couch where Nantale had fallen asleep.  She lay next
to the dark mass that was the African girl.  Nantale awoke with a start. 
"What are you doing?"



   "I thought I might sleep here," whispered Katrina.



   "Why?" Nantale asked brusquely.



   "Because you frighten me," Katrina said in a whisper.



   There was a silence.  Then a sigh.  "Suji is right.  I do scare the
little ones." Katrina heard her say something she did not understand in her
native tongue.  Then Katrina felt more than heard Nantale begin to weep. 
Katrina scooted forward and took the larger girl in her arms.  Nantale
shuddered, then wept, quietly.  Katrina soothed her.  The weeping slowed
and stopped.  Nantale wiped the tears from her eyes.  "Come here, little
one," she said as she bent her head and brought her lips to Katrina's. 
Katrina was swept up in the passion of the older girl.  It was a new and
different experience.  The black girl was strong and yet gentle as a woman.
When her lips found Katrina's sex, she thrust hard into her, and yet she
knew exactly how to please as a woman does.  Katrina could not help it as
she cried out in her pleasure, the climax taking her.  Nantale gentled her,
kissing her as she fell asleep, happy, and no longer frightened.



   And so time drifted, and the girls drifted with it.



   *****



   Months had gone by.  Still Katrina thought of escape.  The Master's
computer had to be the way.  He had to have Internet.  That's how the
supplies were ordered.  She had been to his rooms often enough now to have
a feel for the house.  It had to be behind a door in his room.  A door that
she had never seen opened.  She had asked the other girls if they had even
been in there.  No one had.  Every other room, at one time or another, one
girl had been in there.  Not that room.  The last visit, Katrina had taken
the time to study it closely while the Master had napped after an
invigorating bout of sex.  Katrina had put all she knew into the sex and he
had been drained.  The door was solid wood and didn't even appear to have a
lock.  It had to be in there.  But how would she get in there?



   Katrina had a purpose now.  She didn't tell any of the other girls.  If
she were caught she was determined not to get anyone else punished.  If
they whipped someone, it would be her alone.  She watched the serving girls
put together their lists of supplies.  Khalid collected it and added his
own.  He took it to the Master.  Khalid returned in a few minutes.  Two
days later the supply boat would come.  No one had ever seen a radio. 
There were no sounds from the Master's rooms as if he were talking on a
radio.  It had to be the computer and it had to be an Internet connection,
probably through a satellite.  While she was swimming the next day Katrina
examined the roof of the villa.  She saw a small gray oval pointed up to
the sky.  `Yes!' she said to herself.  That had to be a satellite dish.



   Katrina waited and planned.  Life drifted along, making love with the
other girls, being called by the Master, playing in the cove, working in
their gym.  The moment arrived as a surprise.



   It was a dark and stormy night, the kind of storm only experienced in
the tropics.  The girls were awakened by a loud cracking sound followed by
a thud.  Flashlights appeared down by the wharf.  The girls rushed outside,
huddled against the blowing rain and wind.  They saw the Master and the men
all working to prevent the wharf from tearing itself apart in the wind. 
Part of the dock had torn loose and was threatening to tear the whole
structure to bits.  All four men worked to get it tied down.



   Katrina slipped back into the room, through the inner door, and ran to
the Master's room.  She slipped inside, her heart beating quickly.  There
were no sounds except the storm.  She could see the dark door was slightly
ajar.  Had the Master been working when the alarm sounded?  She pushed on
the door and it seemed to magically open.  She closed it behind her.  In
the dim light she could see little yellow and green lights.  She stumbled
against a chair, hurting a shin.  She worried that someone would hear. 
Groping around, her hand brushed the mouse which caused the screen to light
up.  It was on!  Katrina sat down.  There, on the screen was the IE symbol.
She clicked it.  It seemed an interminable time as several boxes flashed
and disappeared, until finally Internet Explorer came up.  She typed in
Yahoo.  Then her name and password.  Her e-mail opened.  Feverishly working
now, worried that she could be discovered before she had finished, she hit
Compose.  A blank email.  She typed in her Father's email, then HELP from
Katrina!  as the title.  Typing quickly she wrote:



   Dearest Father,



   I have been kidnapped.  I am being held in the Seychelles Islands.  I
don't know which island.  The man is white maybe American.  PLEASE rescue
me!!!!!!!!!!



   Your loving Katrina



   She heard a sound and hit the send button worried that she had been
found.  It had to be good enough.  She listened but heard only the sounds
of the storm.  Katrina put the computer to sleep and slipped from the room.
The sound of the storm covered her as she hurried back downstairs and
slipped into the girls' room.  No one appeared to have noticed she was
gone. Half the girls were still outside watching and most were going back
and forth not paying attention to the others.  Katrina went outside with
the others.



   A portion of the dock tore completely loose and whipped into the cove.
There was much cursing.  The men worked to tie down the parts that were
still attached.  The rest seemed secure for the moment.  It took some time.
The girls had lost interest after a while.  Katrina watched, waited.  When
she saw the Master head back to his room, she went inside.  Now was the
moment of truth.  Would he notice?  She would know soon, she was certain.



   She slept little that night.  In the morning the storm had passed.  The
men examined the dock.  One man compiled a list which the Master took and
went back to the house.  Katrina felt dizzy and had to sit.  She waited,
dread filling her.  In a few minutes the Master re-appeared without the
paper, smiling.  The men dispersed.  Her spirit lifted.  She had gotten
away with it.  He hadn't noticed.  Oh, Father, please, please, please... 
She wondered if she remembered his e-mail correctly.





   *****



   It wasn't a normal delivery day when the girls heard a motor approaching
the cove.  They were crowding around the door when Khalid appeared, anger
in his face and rushed them back inside.  It was a police boat.



   The Master quickly dressed and hurried downstairs to meet the official.
He smiled when he recognized the man.  He had helped getting the necessary
palms greased when the island was leased.  "Lt.  Rene.  How good to see
you. What would you like to drink?"



   The Lieutenant smiled, "Perhaps some Scotch, if you have any."



   "Of course." He turned to one of the servants.  "Hurry, get some
Scotch." The woman sped off.  "Have a seat.  Now, to what do I owe the
honor of this visit?"



   "I was just in the area and thought I should drop in." Neither man
believed this to be true.  The woman had returned setting the scotch and
two glasses between them.  He poured for the lieutenant.  The Master looked
attentive.  "Ah yes, well, actually there is something...  It seems the
Australians believe that a girl was taken from her family and is in
Seychelles.  The girl was the daughter of some minor government official.
But he is using his contacts to make life miserable for the President and
Ambassador.  President Michel tasked me to take care of the matter.  I'm
sure you understand."



   The Master was stunned.  His whole scheme seemed in danger.  Was the
Lieutenant here to arrest him?  "Lieutenant, I paid handsomely for the
protection of this island.  Is more required?" Bribes had always worked on
the Seychellois before.



   "No, no," he said waving his hand.  Carefully he said, "Things need to,
how shall we say, change for a bit.  It would help the position of the
President if the girl re-appeared."



   "How?" the Master asked completely shocked by this development.  "How
did they know?"



   "Two very different questions, my friend.  How they knew?" He shrugged.
"But people do talk.  Maybe those who arranged it.  Maybe money, maybe a
drunken moment, maybe bragging.  People do strange things," said Lt.  Rene.




   "But if the girl suddenly shows up in Seychelles..."



   "No," Lt.  Rene said forcefully.  "We have denied her presence in
Seychelles."



   "Maybe it would be better if the girl never appeared..." he let the
thought hang in the air.



   "That thought was considered.  But the Australians are sure she is
alive, or was very recently.  If she suddenly was found dead, it would
rouse even more attention, attention that President Michel doesn't want. 
It would be better if she reappeared in Mauritius, let us say.  Then our
denials would ring true.  How many of the islands of Mauritius look exactly
like this one?" The Master saw the smile on the lieutenant's face and saw
he was being given a way out.  He could drug the girl and dump her in
Mauritius.  There would be no way to trace her back here.



   "And that would be the end of that?" he asked the Lieutenant.



   "There is one other thing.  The Australians have sent a police
investigator who is in Victoria now.  It is why I hurried.  It would be
best if you left," he said.



   "But..." The Master saw his whole plan, his dream, so dearly bought
crumbling.



   "Wait, my friend.  You still have friends in the Emirates.  They could
provide a place for you and your...  servants," he smiled letting on that
he understood what was at stake, "for a while; a year, maybe two at the
most.  Let them investigate an empty island.  Better still, I have a cousin
who is a fisherman.  He and his family can live here while you are away. 
They will make sure everything is protected.  When the Australian shows up,
if he shows up here, there is my cousin who has lived here for years.  In a
year, maybe months, you can return."



   The Master thought about the choice.  Yes, his contacts would set him up
for a year if he needed it.  He would have to hire a boat, first to dump
the girl, then to ferry his house to the Emirates.  Oh how he hated the
desert, but it was better than being discovered.  It had to be the Russians
who sold him out.  There was no way anyone on the island could have gotten
the information on the girl to the Australians.  Damn them!



   "I'll need a boat," the Master said.



   Lt.  Rene smiled.  "Just so.  My cousin is a tuna fisher.  It happens
that he is fishing near here.  He could have the girl gone tonight.  By the
next day, he could be back and ferry your family to the Emirates."



   "Thank you Lt.  Rene," he said concluding the bargain.  But his mind
raged.  Somehow, he would get even with the Russian mob.  No matter the
cost, they would pay.



   *****



   It seemed so familiar and yet vague as well.  Katrina remembered being
called to the Master after the boat left.  He didn't want sex with her. 
Instead he gave her wine.  It must have been powerful for she had passed
out from it.  Then vague dreams again, like before of a sea journey.  She
awoke in a hot room.  She looked around.  Not again, her mind quailed. 
This was not her room.  Where was she?  She was dressed in a native
costume. Why?  She got up, her head still a little foggy and tried the
door. It opened onto a hallway that looked like a hotel hall.  With great
trepidation, Katrina walked down the hall.  At the end was a small office.
A black man sat in it.  "Who are you?" she asked.



   He looked up, startled to see a white girl in native dress in his inn.
He said something in Creole which the girl didn't understand.



   "Do you speak English?" she asked.



   He shook his head and asked a question again in French.



   Katrina racked her brain.  "Gendarme.  Please, Gendarme."



   The fellow understood this.  He shouted and a young boy appeared.  He
shouted at the boy who was staring at this strange apparition.  He nodded
and ran off.



   It was only a few minutes until a uniformed man came in with the boy. 
He looked at the girl and asked.  "How did you get here, miss," in heavily
accented English.



   Katrina struggled to understand through her panic.  "I don't know. 
Where am I?"



   "Mauritius," the officer answered.  "What has happened?"



   Katrina realized that she might be free if this really was a policeman.
The joy burst forth and she began telling her tale.  The officer kept
telling her to slow down but the words poured forth like a torrent.



   Finally, the officer had pieced together enough words to understand.  He
turned to the inn keeper and roughly questioned him.  The room had been
rented for two days the previous night by a man with a Madagascar accent.
He had not seen any evidence of a girl until she had wandered in this
morning.  That was all he knew.  The officer swore at him in Creole.  "Come
with me miss.  I must call the Captain in St.  Louis."



   Katrina followed the man barely aware of her surroundings.  She was
going to be free.  She was going to be free.  The officer led her into a
police building.  When Katrina saw that this was in fact a police office
she knew that the nightmare was over.  She burst in deep sobs of relief. 
The officer was on the phone speaking excitedly with the capital.  "Miss.
What is your name?"



   "Katrina Smith."



   "And where are you from?"



   "Australia.  My father is Rodney Smith.  He works for the government."



   More excited talking.  He put the phone down.  "It appears that the
government knows of you.  I am to send you straight to the capital by
plane. Come with me."



   Katrina was met by a young man from the Australian embassy.  He took her
to the embassy where several of the wives took her under their wings.  In
two days she would be home.



   *****



   The girls were locked below as the fishing boat headed for the Emirates.
It had all been arranged.  He would have a villa on the coast.  It was one
of many surrounded by high walls and guards who understood their duty.  All
of the villas here were owned by princes of the court.  No one was allowed
in or out without permission.  His `possessions' would be quite safe until
the wind had blown over his island and he could return.  He was sorry to
lose his little Australian.  But he had enjoyed taking her virginity. 
Maybe the next one would be from India.  There they had too many girls.  He
had read of a woman selling a girl child for twenty dollars.  A ripe and
pretty girl would cost more, but still.  Cash transactions were so much
safer.  He had learned a lesson.  He had closed off this part of his life
for now.  It was as if he had never been in the Seychelles.  When he came
back, he would be more careful, more in control.



   He only planned to keep the girls until they were in their early
twenties.  Then he would sell them in the Emirates where many liked their
girls mature and experienced.  So he would need a constant supply.  After
he dealt with the Russians he would need to find a reliable supplier.  It
was obvious they had taken the wrong girl from Australia.  They should have
known to take one nobody cared about; a whore's daughter...  still virgin,
but ready.  The Master smiled out over the blue expanse of the Indian
Ocean. He truly was Master of all he surveyed.



   *****



   The Australian embassy sent a blistering missive to Seychelles only to
receive a blistering reply.  The Government of Seychelles has thoroughly
investigated and found no evidence of the accusations.  Wasn't the girl
found in Mauritius?  Didn't the kidnapper have a Madagascar accent?  Look
there.



   The Australians had to admit the girl had probably been misled.  They
didn't even know if she was on an island.  It could have been the coast of
Madagascar.  The girls were locked in a house.  They never wandered far
enough to know if it was an island.  They only knew what they had been
told. The embassy used their contacts with the US government to try and
track the e-mail.  It had originated from an island in the Indian Ocean,
uploaded by satellite.  Which island?  No one knew.  Had NSA been tracking
it, they would have been able to locate it; but afterwards, no.  The
account had been paid for from an unnamed account on Grand Cayman, since
closed.  The embassy knew they had no chance of solving this puzzle with
what they knew.  All they could do was be thankful the girl had appeared
and wait for another clue to surface.  It would be a dead file case until
some clue appeared.  Maybe someday...



   Katrina's father had been told of her experiences.  They had left out
the salacious details but had told him the facts.  He berated himself for
her being kidnapped, although he had done nothing wrong.  But still he
blamed himself.  If only her mother was alive, maybe it would have been
different.  He never had enough time to spend with the girl.  It would be
different from now on.  The government would just have to understand.



   The reunion at the airport was tearful, on all fronts.  Even the TV
people who had come for the notoriety found themselves getting teary. 
Neither father nor daughter could make a coherent statement.  That was left
to the police captain who made the usual inane comments about tracking down
the perpetrators, not resting until the case was solved.  No mention was
made of how that was to be accomplished.



   The Australian investigator in Victoria was stonewalled.  Since all who
knew were in the Government and had benefited personally, there was no one
who would admit to anything.  Lt.  Rene personally guaranteed that there
was no island with a white owner as described by the girl.  He had
personally inspected all possible islands.  It must have been one of the
dependencies, or maybe even Madagascar.  Had the Australian gotten lucky
and talked to one of the boat crew who supplied the island, he might have
gotten a step closer, but he wasn't lucky.  A month later, he gave up and
flew home.



   Katrina quickly settled back into home life.  Her father watched for
signs that something was wrong.  She smiled and laughed.  She picked up
with her old friends.  She returned to school, the only difference was that
he drove her in the morning and picked her up in the afternoon.  No more
walking.  The only thing he noted as different was her attendance on him.
She never seemed to want to leave him, even at bedtime.  He thought it just
a reaction that would fade in time.



   But it wasn't a reaction.  It was inherent now in the girl...  her need
to serve.  She was conditioned to serve the dominant man in her life.  Now,
it was her father.  She felt the need to serve, in all ways and felt the
lack in her inability to serve him in all ways.  She knew she needed to
make her father happy.



   It was barely a week after her rescue when he was taking a bath. 
Katrina entered the bath, completely naked.  Mr.  Smith stared at his
daughter.  Her mound was bare, no hair had started to grow back yet.  Her
small breasts stood out on her chest.  "Katrina!"



   "Yes, Father," she replied her eyes cast down.  He didn't notice how the
sound of Father could have been equally the sound of Master.



   "You can't come in here," he said.



   "Why not, Father?"



   "Well, I'm naked and so are you," he sputtered.



   "But Father, I was always naked on the island.  No one ever minded.  I
just came to help you bathe." Katrina felt like she was failing, and since
the punishment for failure was always humiliation, she started to cry.



   Poor Rodney had no defense against tears.  "Now don't start crying.  All
right.  You can stay."



   She sniffled, quickly wiping her eyes.  "Thank you, Father." She took up
the washer, added soap, and started on his chest.  His eyes bugged out. 
He'd never had any woman wash him before, yet alone his little princess. 
His mind was doing funny things.  He didn't know what he should be doing.
He didn't want to do anything to upset the girl, yet this seemed wrong. 
What to do?



   The cloth worked lower and wrapped around his cock.  Katrina had learned
well all of the ways to please a man from the girls.  Her hand felt like
magic to Rodney.  It didn't matter whose hand it was, the sensations poured
forth.  He hadn't had a woman since his wife's untimely death.  The blood
poured into his cock and it quickly grew.  Katrina smiled knowing she was
doing it right, serving as she had been trained.  His eyes closed in
pleasure.  It was wrong.  It felt wonderful.  His mind filled with dream
images, fantasy images of a distinctly erotic nature.  He didn't notice the
change of motion as Katrina stepped into the bath, still stroking his cock.
She let the cloth go, stroking with her hand to clear his shaft of soap. 
One foot on either side of her father, the man she loved and so, the man
she should serve, she sat down on his rampant cock.  As Katrina slid over
his cock, she felt full and wonderful.  It was so good to be filled by her
Master's cock...



   Rodney's eyes flew open when he felt the hot warmth envelop his cock. 
He knew that feeling.  What he saw was his sweet princess, a beatific smile
on her face, settling on his cock, which had disappeared between her
hairless lips.  "Oh my God," rumbled Rodney.



   Katrina opened her eyes and smiled.  "Yes, M...  Father?" she asked.



   "Katrina, this isn't right." He said.



   "But don't you like it, Father?" She rippled her internal muscles as she
had practiced so many times, so that it they were stroking his cock without
her even moving.



   "Oh, God," he moaned.  The sensations were exquisite.  Katrina was
smiling as she continued squeezing his cock.  Then she began fucking
herself as she squeezed.  "Oh yes," he moaned, unable to do anything else.



   "Father, I love you.  I will make you happy," she said picking up the
pace as she fucked faster and faster.  "Let me make you happy..." The water
sloshed around in the tub but Rodney hardly noticed.  He had never felt
anything like this before.  She was so tight and yet so accepting of his
shaft, so warm and wet.  He felt the pressure building in his loins.  He
had been so long without a woman he couldn't hold back.  With an agonized
growl, he felt his climax overcoming all opposition as his cum rocketed up
his cock and into the girl.



   Katrina felt it and smiled.  Yes, she was pleasing as she should.  She
felt the growing warmth in her pussy which triggered her own climax.  She
slowed and stopped, slumping forward onto her father's chest.  "Thank you,
Father."



   Now that his animal need had been filled all of the social taboos burst
full force into his mind.  `Oh my God,' he thought.  `What sort of animal
am I?'



   Katrina was happy, happy for the first time since she had been
kidnapped. She looked adoringly at her father.



   He saw the look in her eyes and was surprised.  She should hate him
after what he had done.  The fact that Katrina had done it, didn't occur to
Rodney.  He had accepted all of the blame.  After all, Katrina was too
young, wasn't she?



   "Father, you've made me so happy.  I promise to do anything you want. 
I'll make you happy, just like you've made me happy."



   Rodney looked at his daughter and saw that she was happy.  He didn't
understand it, and he knew he didn't understand it.  And not knowing, he
did the wise thing.  He determined to wait until he understood.  His
daughter was too precious for him to do something stupid now that he had
her back.  It must be connected to what happened on the island.  He had to
be patient.  He wouldn't allow this to happen again, that was assured.  But
he would get to the bottom of the mystery.  "I love you too, princess," he
said.



   Katrina smiled.  He called her princess.  It reinforced the feeling that
what she was doing was correct.  Yes, pleasing her Father was the right
thing.  She would serve him in every way.  Even if he wanted to do her the
way the Master had done Jasmin.  She would make him happy.  She leaned her
head on his chest, happy.



   Rodney looked at the smile on his daughter's face.  It was worth
anything to see that after so many months certain he would never see her
again.  He would do anything to keep that smile there.



   There had been two promises made in the space of seconds.  Neither knew
of the other promise, but they would fit like hand in glove.  Katrina would
serve with all her will and Rodney would let her do what made her happy. 
It would be a very loving family, even if a bit unusual.



   *****



   In the Emirates, men made rich by oil indulged their pleasures in any
way they wished, unrestrained by law.  In the Seychelles a greedy man sent
a coded message, mentioning that several palms had been greased to end an
investigation.  Not much really.  Another man stood looking out to the
Arabian Sea.  A tuna boat was being loaded with its human cargo.  He was
going home.  In much of the world people lived their contained lives not
ready to believe and certainly not willing to get involved.  And life
drifted along.













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