by Mark Andrews
Accordingly, our diet was as healthy as he could get it — and as uninteresting as prison fare — or worse. Once his dietician had determined the best food, his cook steamed it all together — without salt — and then pureed it into a paste which he then watered down so we could sup it like soup.
But if you think we were then going to be allowed to sit at a table and use plates and spoon, think again. It was poured into a long stainless steel trough and we had to get down on either side of it and snuffle it like pigs, even licking the metal trough clean when we had finished. The mush was tasteless if healthy and night and morning, it always tasted the same — like tasteless mush, even if the ingredients were varied according to the dietary plan.
And then we were returned to the clinic for the doctor to insert Jake’s little toys into our bodies.
These were devices which could be used for two purposes: they could stimulate us to sexual excitement — right up to orgasm, actually; and they could punish us.
No doubt many people will know of the TENS (Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator) units which can supply electrical stimulation to the body when attached to it by means of clips and patches as well as dildos and probes made from very expensive clear plastic? Well our implants worked the same way and provided exactly the same stimulation from exquisite pleasure right through to agonising pain — except that they were surgically implanted into our bodies. Once there, they could not be removed and their power came from a tiny battery that was recharged from energy provided by our own internal body heat so they never ran down and had a life of around ten years.
Naturally we were not anaesthetised during the operation. First, because pain was to be our constant companion during our slavery on that terrible island and this was an excellent introduction to it; and second, because it was such a minor procedure anyway.
Dr Sing, for all his sadism, was a competent surgeon and an expert in the new ‘keyhole’ type of procedure. His clinic was always spotless and his other hygiene measures all first class.
I was first and so they secured Peter against a wall while his assistant strapped me down onto the table — very tight. He sprayed a deadening agent over the skin of my now so naked groin and gave me a sedative of some sort but I was still awake and could feel what he was doing. But it was when they had me up off the table later and I watched as he repeated the operation on Peter that I was able to actually see it.
He made a tiny incision in our groins, on the right side, and another one near it through which he pushed the lens of a CCTV camera. This was on the end of a plastic tube and he used it to guide his instruments after he pushed the tiny implant into our bodies and then attached the fine wires to our genitals: mine to either side of my clit (but on the inside of my body), and Peter’s, on either side of the root of his penis, also inside his body.
Each operation took but a few minutes and then he placed a strong adhesive bandage over the two tiny wounds. I was curious what these things were and asked to see it before he placed it into my body. Dr Sing was very proud of these tiny devices and was only too happy to show them off to us. He came up to my head and showed me the clear plastic envelope in which my unit had been placed.
It really was tiny. I know a heart monitor is about the size of a twenty cent piece but this was much smaller: truly a marvel of modern technology. It was more the size of a five cent piece although somewhat thicker than that small coin. Its two wires emanated one from each side of two opposite edges of a diametric line across it.
I have to say I hardly felt its insertion into my body but I certainly felt the buzz and heat as he cauterised the ends of the two wires to my clitoris and I noted Peter’s reaction when he did the same to the root of his cock. But that was really the only real pain and it was only momentary, anyway.
But then, once they had done Peter and he had been secured to the wall beside me, they tested the horrible little things. First the pleasure mode.
We were standing facing them of course and Dr Sing came over to stand in front of us. In his hand was one of the controllers they used to operate the implants. “First, we try them together,” he said, grinning evilly at us as he touched a few buttons on the controller.
Instantly, I felt a wonderful pleasure down at my pleasure bud. It was as if a thousand of the lightest fingers were expertly teasing my clit and I think I gurgled in pleasure while my knees went soft. I was deep in the throes of a sexual pleasure so intense I think I orgasmed almost instantly but I had enough awareness of other things to note that Peter’s cock just as quickly erected — to a degree and intensity I had never seen in it before.
It almost immediately sprang straight up his belly to stand at attention, red and quivering, its skin shiny from the power of the erection and I also noted that his eyes were glazed over in a pleasure presumably as intense as my own.
“Good,” said the doctor. “They work. Now to test them individually.”
He glanced down at a sheet of paper beside him and punched in a series of numbers, presumably my code, and then again pressed the blue button which I had noted was the last one he touched before. Again I felt that wondrous pleasure but this time it was me alone. Peter stood there, somewhat forlorn that I was now experiencing the pleasure and he was not.
But then it was his turn and again I marvelled as I watched his cock spring to life and begin quivering in lust as the device tingled at and excited his pleasure nerves.
“So far, so good,” said Sing, pushing other buttons. “Now to test its pain function.”
This time the pair of us screamed in agony as the now not so tiny electrical charges tore into our consciousness and we began to strain against the thumb cuffs behind our backs, to jump up and down from one foot to the other and to twist and contort our upper bodies as the shocks attacked the so sensitive nerves that serviced our sexual organs.
Once more he tested this function of the implants individually but then he explained how they worked.
“The difference between pleasure and pain in those locations is quite minute,” he began. “It is only a matter of micro-volts between intense pleasure and agonising pain. Much research has been done by appropriate authorities in certain parts of the world where pain is still used as a punishment and as a deterrent, in developing these devices and we have found them very effective in controlling you gladiator-slaves.”
We stared at him, for it was instantly obvious to us that he now had us by our short and curlies — literally (if we had still had them that is), and if you’ll forgive my vulgarity. My earthiness aside though, we realised that if we didn’t knuckle down and work as hard as his trainers required, Jake would have them punish us by the simple expedient of pushing a few buttons. Whips and canes and the like would be totally unnecessary. So would chains and cells, as the doctor now went on to explain:
“They can also be used to control your whereabouts. The software that drives these units can be programmed to allow you a certain envelope of space — even a moving one when you are ordered from one place to the other. Move near the border of that space and you will receive a warning tingle. Cross it and you will get a series of shocks that will increase in power and pain to the extent it will eventually knock you out. It even has sensors to detect when this has happened and then the shocks will cease, at least temporarily. The technology involved is state of the art and is the very latest in prisoner control.”
We were released from the wall and he showed us how well and how minutely the programme could control our movements. “Even now, our technicians have been ordered to allow you a tour of the camp. The envelope allowed you is only ten feet square so if you move too fast and reach its front boundary, you will feel a tingle; similarly, if you lag behind or stray sideways, it will kick in. You will learn, as the days and weeks pass how to test which boundary you are breaching and correct it.
“Let us slow down so that the e
nvelope will move ahead of us…”
We did and in only a few seconds we felt the tingle. It was different from the pleasure bursts we had received before but not nearly as intense as those that had caused us so much agony before. Both of us hurried forward, anxious not to allow it to kick the second stage in.
“You see,” said Dr Sing delightedly, “already you are learning to obey its dictates…”
We were, but we weren’t happy about it. We were interested in it, though. As physical educationalists and, I hasten to add, on a purely theoretical level for no-one in the free world would dream of using such things for real, we could see how useful they would be as training aids. But I was also interested in the technology for I am something of a gadget freak. All right, I know it is usually men who have this bent but in our case it was me and I loved reading about GPS gadgetry and the like. Obviously this was used for these devices (as the moving envelopes implied) but even the remote activation of the pleasure and pain modes in such tiny devices bespoke an incredible sophistication in their development.
Enough about them. They were surgically implanted in our bodies and it was obvious we could not remove them. We were stuck with them and that was that.
We saw the other four slaves then at the camp at work. It seemed this was a fairly new enterprise of Jake’s and only two other couples had been kidnapped before us. One of them was a pair of newly-weds, like us; the other pair hadn’t yet become married.
Jake favoured couples because he could use the punishment of one against the other to encourage us to further obedience and dedication. There is no doubt in my mind that if he had applied himself to lawful pursuits he might have gone far for he attended to every detail resolutely. As we later discovered, there was an even more cogent reason for it: his patrons delighted in the sexuality of watching athletic girls fighting in the bizarre contests he staged; girls against male protagonists and of course the more usual male against male as well.
We also soon discovered that, aside from us being offered as whores to his clients, they delighted in the voyeuristic display of the loser in each bout being brutally punished.
The other two couples so far brought here were not Caucasian. One pair was Thai, the home of kick-boxing while the other two were black. All four were handsome or beautiful and as we passed them working out in the grassed area in the middle of the camp, we noted their fine bodies — naturally as naked as our own.
They were performing a series of complicated stretching and twisting exercises at that time but when we crossed back and passed them a few minutes later, they were straining against the bars of a cart loaded with stones, now obviously strengthening their muscles.
We were not to join them at this stage. Although Dr Sing had used keyhole surgery to implant his little toys in our bodies, still they would wait a fortnight before allowing us to perform so strenuously. In the meantime, we were allocated housekeeping duties, sweeping, polishing, washing and assisting the cook.
Chapter 2
Over the days to come our workload gradually increased and then we began to join the other four at their exercises, and later still, their fighting training.
During this time we were kept as caged animals, naked as the day we were born and now depilated totally nude below our eyelashes, even Peter’s beard and moustache being removed from his face.
Jake and his men delighted in coming down to the cage during our rest periods and after their supper to stare in at us as we lay in the pile of hay which was our only bedding.
Perhaps I should describe the cage in more detail. It was modelled on a zoo cage as nearly as possible as they could get it. The whole thing was very long but only about eight feet deep and it was divided into more than a dozen compartments, each only six feet wide. We were accommodated as pairs but that didn’t mean we could indulge in any unauthorised love-making.
Jake was as cruel a man as I can ever imagine. He delighted in shaming and humiliating us and in imposing harder and harder workloads on our bodies so that we sweated and strained all day to get better and better at what he wanted of us. But the worst of his trials was to house each pair together in our own compartment but yet deny us sexual contact. This was not by way of chains but by use of the tiny implants.
We now discovered they could be programmed to send warning tingles to us at night if we came closer than a few inches together — or rather that our groins did. We could kiss and touch each other with our hands anywhere we liked (except our sexual organs) but the moment Peter’s cock, or any other part of him for that matter, came within a few inches of my vulva, we both got a mild shock. Any closer and that became a fiery barb of unspeakable pain. The same went for him if my hand or another part of me strayed too close to his genitals. The implants somehow sensed our proximity and kicked in.
We could thus sleep back to back or side by side but not facing each other. It was horrible but I suppose I could see Jake’s reasoning for this so constraining rule: he wanted our sex for himself and his patrons; but more, I think, he wanted to give us the agony of being so close and yet unable to consummate our love for each other.
Each compartment in the cage contained an automatic watering device, right down on the floor at the front right-hand corner so we had to get down on all fours like animals to drink. There was also a bowl-shaped gully-trap on the opposite front corner over which we could squat to deposit our wastes. There was no toilet paper of course. We had to use a small portion of the hay to wipe ourselves. I am sure Jake had these two facilities placed at the front of the cages so that his guests could enjoy our shame as we lapped up the water like animals and squatted over the trap. And that was it. The cage was roofed but open all around and at night the wind tended to be cold at times.
We were fed like animals, too. Mostly the mushy soup already mentioned but also raw vegetables and fruit and sometimes a modicum of meat as a special treat at times, usually in the form of a stew. When it was just the raw vegetables and fruit, they were tipped out of a wheelbarrow onto a small concreted area and we could sit around this and choose what we wanted. When it was stew, they tipped it into the same trough as we ate the soup from, set on the concrete and we had again to get down on all fours to root at it like pigs.
Jake and his men, and later his customers, liked to come and watch us at these times. Not when we were eating the vegetables and fruit for then we looked like ordinary people, selecting and eating the items we chose, even if we were stark naked. But when it was the soup or stew, they would stroll over and stand around our wiggling bottoms as we strove to get our heads into the trough. And if we weren’t behaving sufficiently like pigs, Jake would nod to the supervising guard who would wander up and down the line and lash at our buttocks, ordering us to “get your arses moving, piglets!”
We were fed night and morning and in between times we worked. Hard! Every waking moment was devoted to exercise — very scientific exercise to strengthen our muscles and hone them to a pleasing shape; and to develop our stamina so that we could fight all day if required. That took half the morning and then for the rest of the day it was training in the various fighting techniques Jake was going to stage for the pleasure of his patrons.
There was kick-boxing, yes, but there were also a host of other fighting disciplines including boxing and wrestling, aikido and many other martial arts, each of which had its own trainer, brought in by Jake to spend a week or so with us to school us in his particular skill.
This part of our lives I have to say I enjoyed — but it was the only part and even that enjoyment was tempered by our total nakedness and by the fact that we had no say in what we were doing. We were slaves in the truest sense of that word. Jake owned us and he determined down to the very smallest detail what we were going to do, when and how.
His methods worked, though. Peter and I thought our bodies had been about as good as we could get them before we were kidnapped. Heav
ens, we were both physical education teachers and keen participants in the sport of kick-boxing, both disciplines requiring bodies that were fit and supple; but Jake had made something of a study of human physical development and he had his trainers work us to achieve an even better physical fitness coupled with an appearance that was really outstanding. I learned something at least from his methods and I still use them to this day on my students and to keep my body as good as he made it. I doubt if there was an ounce of fat between any of us, each of our physiques showing a musculature that while not in any way gross, showed off each muscle to perfection.
You may wonder that I have not mentioned any of the other four by name. That’s because we never met them. We weren’t allowed to communicate with them at all and the nearest I could come to it was a brief smile from time to time. Even when I was made to fight one of them, girl or boy; or even more to the point, to make love with one of them, we weren’t allowed to speak to them — ever! As time passed we learned their names from hearing the guards use them but we were never introduced and if we were caught even winking at another couple, we were in for it.
Jake’s surveillance system was so good that it could pick up even an undertone and while Peter and I were permitted to speak to each other, it always had to be in little more than a whisper and on non-inflammatory subjects. The first sign that one of a pair was attempting to communicate with another pair, slam! The implant kicked in and we were doubled over in instant agony. We were thus slaves together, the first six of us, and yet we never said a word to each other.
Over the next days and weeks, other couples came to join us and each pair was put through exactly the same initiation as Peter and I had been and then they came to join us in the next available cage. We were now a real smorgasbord of racial types, ranging from fair, blue-eyed Scandinavians to tall and very muscular West Africans and with a range of Asian types in between. Every single one of us was either handsome or beautiful (or at least attractive) and every one of us was, without exception, physically perfect for his or her build.
