by Mark Andrews
She was still moaning, in fact, her body still swaying back and forth, her hands still trying to ease the awful pain in her nipple. I tried to imagine how bad that pain must have been — and couldn’t. I knew the breasts on a woman are very sensitive and their nipples even more so but I just couldn’t dream up a notion of how totally agonising that stroke must have been and likewise the one to Park’s testicle. I knew they are the most sensitive part of a man’s body and that he will do anything to try and protect them but now, as I stared at him contorting his lithe young body in total agony, I wondered afresh at man’s inhumanity to man and glanced across at those of the guests I could see from my position.
`To a man, they were all showing their obvious rapture at the two strokes thus far delivered. Where their clothing permitted it, I could see they were all erect and talking to each other excitedly about Obb’s skill as a whipmaster and how splendid the two naked bodies looked under the lash.
I looked around for and sought out my West African. I will say now, although I didn’t find it out until later that night, that his name was Ukanda. And I was shocked to see the same salacious grin on his face — until I saw that Jake was looking at him too and that his suspicions were now somewhat mollified by the approval now written all over Ukanda’s face. Obviously the man had cottoned-on to Jake’s doubts about him and had corrected his lapse. I hoped against hope though, that I had been right and that he was a spy. Those hopes were soon to be raised and then dashed however, as I will relate shortly.
In the meantime, Obb laid on Chin’s second stroke. Remember they were each to receive twenty of these so lethal lashes and both of them were already in dire straits as a result of their first. I thought they would both be unconscious by the time the last was administered and I was right.
Chin’s second stroke was to her sexual organs. It was laid on between her thighs and the tip cracked right over her vagina, sending horrible bolts of more pure agony through her body. Of course she screamed again — long and loud but I won’t attempt to write the sound down for nothing I could write would do justice to the blood-curdling shriek of woe the came from her mouth in a strangled cry of utter calamity and distress.
And of course her body again writhed and twisted into those same highly salacious contortions that had a few of the guests creaming in their pants — I know this for the stains became immediately obvious. Of course, now her hands alternated between the still dreadful pain in her breast and the new one down between her legs while her body continued to squirm most erotically.
Park’s second stroke was to his belly. It was delivered sideways and the lash curled right around his waist before the tip erupted in its loud report, right on his belly button. I doubt if that one was quite as bad as Chin’s last stroke but then the first to his testicle was probably worse than that to her breast so perhaps they evened up a bit.
The pair of them were now swinging violently this way, each in a delirium of his and her own pain and probably quite unconscious of the highly erotic display their bodies were affording the depraved men who had each paid Jake so many thousands of dollars to be part of this first show.
But still they had another eighteen strokes to go and I sobbed a bit, I think, as I thought of the terrible pain they were going to have to endure, now — and probably for days to come as a result of the sadistic delight Jake’s guests were deriving from this so unnecessary ‘punishment’ for their crime of losing a fight.
Chin’s third stroke was to her bottom and although her hands came up to clutch at those beautiful cheeks on her so athletic body, I think the pain in her breast and vagina were probably worse. Park’s third stroke was across his chest and a similar result pertained here.
I now realised that Obb, for all his sadism, had delivered the first two strokes in the most painful positions on their bodies and that he was now mitigating the punishment a little. I was pleased for this was the first time I had seen any sign of leniency in this man. Mind you, they still hurt, as did the rest of the strokes he delivered to the pair of hapless slaves; just that it hurt a hell of a lot less.
Nevertheless, the accumulated pain to their bodies did indeed render the pair of them unconscious by the final two strokes and I hated him all over again as I watched first Chin and then Park slump down.
Obb had plastered their whole bodies with the marks of his lash. From their thighs, right down to their shoulders, their bodies were striped horribly and some of them were bleeding, too. Oh how I hated Obb, Jake and his men — and even more, those depraved men, the billionaires who had come to this so beautiful island in the South China Sea to watch us forced to fight against each other, to drive them around the various jungle paths in the hateful gigs and now to suffer as they enjoyed our pain and anguish.
Oh yes, if I ever got free, I would do the lot of them a great deal of mischief!
Chapter 5
The pair of them were let down immediately after the last stroke and Andrei was strung up in their place to hang there, upside down until late tomorrow morning when he too would suffer under Obb’s whip.
In the meantime, there was dinner and another fight. The dinner was as bad as every other meal had been with those guests I served always reaching out to finger my so naked flesh every time I came within reach — and there was no way we could avoid them. Jake watched us all with an eagle eye and if we even attempted to stay out of reach of his guests’ questing fingers, he would give us a jolt to our implants as well as a warning that we could easily join Andrei outside for the next punishment session.
But somehow we got through it and then had to stand behind the guest allocated to us and watch the evening fight.
This one was a boxing match on the triangle and was staged between a German girl against an English one. Both Greta and June were fine examples of female athleticism and beauty, the German girl being almost Amazonian in physique although June was no slouch either. I thought though, that Greta would beat the English girl for she seemed to have the edge on her in the physique department. I hadn’t bargained on the British bulldog spirit though, as I will describe now.
After the almost literally panting guests had been seated in their comfortable chairs around the ring, now without its posts and ropes, to give a clearer view of the proceedings and with the canvas floor of the stage now removed to reveal a circular turntable on which stood the triangle, the two fighters were brought in, both now wearing silk boxing shorts and capes over their muscular shoulders.
There was a murmur of excitement at this innovation for so far, none of us had been allowed even a rag around our middles to cover our nakedness but it wasn’t to last long. Once they reached the triangle, the one of the guards summarily tore off June’s cape to show off her lovely breasts and paraded her thus half naked around the edge of the ring, then put his fingers into the elastic waistband of her shorts and simply pulled. They had apparently been designed to fall apart at even a small tug and now the various parts wafted down to the floor, leaving her stark naked once more.
This procedure was then aped by Greta’s guard and the audience showed its appreciation for this small introduction to the fight by cheering Jake as he stood out in front and took a bow for his ingenuity.
Another guard placed a box beside the triangle and first June and then Greta had to use it to climb onto the sharp upper edge of the horrible instrument of pain. Can you imagine how painful it is to perch on such a thing?
As an example, try it with just a broomstick. Place it between two chairs and then sit on it, preferably naked below the waist. Bad, isn’t it? Now imagine if instead of the broomstick, you were perched on the sharp edge of a piece of plywood —t hat’s about as sharp as our triangle was and all of us had been trained in its use for although we had our own specialties, Jake wanted us all trained in each of the diabolical fighting techniques he had developed out of your usual wrestling, boxing, kick boxing, etc and so I wa
s well aware of just how painful it was.
I watched in sympathy as the two girls were gloved with the near useless boxing items (useless for they were so thin as to give almost no protection at all) and then tried to get comfortable as their legs dangled down either side of the hateful thing.
You may wonder that we didn’t refuse to fight or at least didn’t put our all into them? The implants! Remember them? Jake watched us intently at all times. He delighted in this new enterprise of his but more than the salacious thrill he got from forcing us, his slaves, to practise at what was probably the most intense form of physical endeavour ever devised for human beings, he wanted money — the enormous sums he was getting from those bastards sitting down there in those so comfortable chairs around the ring and pleasing his customers was paramount in his mind while they were on his island.
He therefore had our numbers pre-programmed into two of the infernal controllers he had clipped to either side of his waist and all it took was the touch to either red button and she or he who had erred would be in for the most diabolical pain imaginable.
No wonder then that we all fought to the very best of our abilities. And then of course there were the other two incentives as well: the promise of a night in a guest bure with our partner for the successful fighter — and the threat of a day hanging upside down, naked, out on the compound, waiting for twenty strokes of Obb’s horrible whip. Oh yes, we all fought to the very best of our abilities, all right.
Now, as I stood behind my allocated guest, this time an Asian man, I stared up at the two girls perched on the triangle and who were now sizing each other up for her first attack.
They looked wonderful, I have to admit. Already they were in pain from the sharp edge of wood between their legs and that was obvious from the expression on their faces, but also, there was grit and determination written there. Greta got in the first punch, a right hook to June’s cheek and it was strong enough to daze the other girl for a second or two but she quickly reacted with a rain of blows to Greta’s face and breasts.
And then it was on for young and old. I won’t attempt to describe the fight blow by blow. I am sure you can imagine how horrible it was — unless you are into naked girls boxing on a sharp triangle, that is? Suffice to say each gave as good as she was able — and absorbed terrible punishment in the process. Their lithe bodies twisted and contorted as they perched up there, turning slowly round and round so each guests got a new view of their bodies during the course of the fight.
Breasts were bruised and battered, shuddering horribly as a fist slammed into them. So did belly muscles and, for that matter, the rest of their splendid bodies. But neither gave an inch, both determined to win and not to let the other get the upper hand.
Yes, there was blood of course. June’s nose was bleeding and so were both their groins, the evidence visible down both sides of the wooden triangle between their thighs which were also half covered in the carmine fluid.
Jake declared June the winner but I doubt if a real referee could have called it. Not that that mattered, of course. He had decided that muscular Greta was going to be flogged alongside the beautiful Andrei on the morrow and that was that.
We were auctioned once more and this time I was ecstatic to find that Ukanda had bought Peter and me as his sex partners for the night. At last we would discover if my suspicions were correct or if I was mistaken and we were indeed destined for years of slavery to Jake and after that, God knows what?
Once we were in the room and he had us in his shower, soaping him down he told us it was true, he was a Nigerian police officer sent to suss out Jake’s operation. It seemed that the men who had kidnapped Mambo and his wife from Lagos in Nigeria hadn’t been as careful as they might and they had been quietly arrested and persuaded under the threat of life in jail for kidnapping, to reveal their principal. Enquiries through Interpol had revealed that Jake was wanted in a number of countries for human rights abuses.
I listened to all of this with mounting excitement but I also marvelled at his beautiful body. Now that we had him naked in the shower, both Peter and I had to soap him down of course. This was usually part of a guest’s requirements and on this occasion, unlike the disgusting Idi Amin look-alike, I relished the task, notwithstanding the fact that my husband was standing right beside me and doing the same. In any other circumstances, I know I would have stayed faithful to Peter, but in those we were both now placed it was quite impossible and we had agreed between us that we might as well enjoy what we could for not to seemed utterly ridiculous to both of us, given that we would be punished anyway if we didn’t give our masters a good time.
Ukanda would have been in his early thirties, I guessed and he had kept his body in tip-top condition with squash and swimming but I won’t describe it. You are no doubt by now getting tired of my superlative descriptions of the various men and women and slaveboys and girls we came into contact with?
Anyway, suffice to say it was no chore to soap him down and that pleasure was added to by his news. Of course we wanted to know when we would be freed but he said that would depend on how soon his department could get a task force organised to do the job. We told him how terrible it was for us and please, please, please make it soon.
Of course we had to have sex with him — or rather I did. He wasn’t into male to male sex and so Peter had to stand there and watch as he made love to me. Why? Because we had discovered there were hidden cameras in each bure. Jake was nothing if he wasn’t careful and (apart from his prurient interest in what happened in the bures between his guests and us slaves) he wanted to keep an eye on us anyway. In Ukanda’s case, I guessed he would be watching the man he half suspected very carefully indeed.
All this I told him while we were in the shower and he smiled ruefully down at me as he agreed that he had better therefore comply.
He was a great lover. He told me he wasn’t married but had had a number of girlfriends, none of whom had turned out to be the right girl and so, apart from the fact that I was having an adulterous relationship with another man — and in full view of my husband — I went to it as hard as I could, remembering everything that Jake had taught me and bring Ukanda slowly up to a crescendo of lust and sexual pleasure, drop him back down again — and then build it up all over again, over and over again until finally bringing him to s stupendous climax.
We went and had another shower and in it, he told me if I wasn’t married already, he would ask me for my hand there and then.
“That was the greatest thing I have ever felt in my life,” he said and I grinned happily at him, but then I looked worriedly over his shoulder to Peter who was soaping his back.
He grinned back at me. “Don’t worry about it, Anne,” he said. “I know you love me…”
We were collected soon after that but we didn’t speak of it again. There was no way we were going to risk Jake finding out about Ukanda. God knows what he would have done to us — all of us if he thought he was under suspicion. Our death would be the least of it. I suspected his rage would be so great he would make sure every single one of us suffered a most horrible death, slow and long-drawn-out and given his so sophisticated surveillance devices, we thought it best to say absolutely nothing and to try and hide our exuberance that now at last, perhaps something might be done.
The next morning we were again auctioned as ponies and had to trot those disgusting reptiles around the various paths on the island and had to watch as the two losers were ritually whipped but then at last it was all over and they were gone, back in the seaplane to wherever they had crawled from…
Jake gave us the rest of the day off. Miracle of miracles. For the first time we were free to rest in our cages while the four winners were allowed the day and night in four of the bures with their partners and with the sex blocker switched off the four implants. I wasn’t one of them and neither was Peter so we missed out but still it was pleasant
just to lie there in the hay and idly finger each other’s bodies (as long as our fingers didn’t stray too close to our respective sexual organs) and whisper sweet nothings to each other.
We didn’t discuss Ukanda’s news. We didn’t even mention his name for we had decided that to do so might arouse Jake’s suspicions once more and we wanted to be very sure he was safely back in his Lagos police department or perhaps the cover he had built up to satisfy Jake’s investigations of each of his clients. I had wondered how the Nigerian had covered this for I didn’t think it would be easy to fake a cover as a multi-millionaire too easily. Still, apparently his department had organised it well enough to fool our master and anyway, I was too excited about our forthcoming deliverance to worry too much about such a detail.
The little interlude was pleasant but it was of course too short. The next day we were back into our training — with a vengeance — and then it was time for the next performance.
It wasn’t a week after the first, after all. For all his eagerness to build on the small fortune he had made from the first of these, he was ultra-careful about who he would allow on the island and already, we knew at least, that his system was not fool-proof for Ukanda’s department had broken through it the very first time. Perhaps that was just pure luck or perhaps the Nigerian police were very bright boys; whatever the reason, it proved to us he was vulnerable and we just hoped against hope that it would be only a few more days before helicopters or something arrived to set us free and arrest Jake, Obb and all the others.
