Dream Island Resort

Dream Island Resort

Part 1. Abducted.

The two men watched the night guard check the entrance to the dorm building and then continue his round. When he disappeared round a corner, they ran silently across the lawn and seconds later had picked the lock. They paused for a moment in the hall, listening, to make sure that all was quiet, then put on infrared night goggles and ran up the stairs to the second floor, along a row of doors to stop in front of the fourth. One of them took a devise from his satchel, pressed it to the door and put a plug in his ear. After a couple of minutes he stowed it away again and nodded to his companion, who a moment later had picked his second lock and opened the door. The two men slipped inside and closed it behind them. Only slow breathing breached the silence in the room where two young girls were asleep under the sheets and blankets, their hair spread on the pillows. The men pulled on the gas masks hanging around their necks and grabbed two canisters from their belts, directing them at the peaceful faces. A faint 'whoosh' and the bodies stiffened for a second, then relaxed. They nodded to each other and quickly drew back the covers. Both girls were dressed in just a pair briefs and their slim frames were glowing in the darkness, but that didn't affect the intruders. One of them brought two bundles of black nylon out of his satchel and unfolded them on the floor, while the other turned the first girl on her stomach. The limp brown body offered no resistance when he stretched her arms to secure them with three straps of duct-tape over and below her firm breasts and across her flat stomach. He strapped her knees and ankles together and forced her feet up to tape them to her thighs. The other man worked on the second girl and soon had her similarly restrained. Together they grabbed one of them to place on the rolled out nylon, folded it around her and zipped it up. A moment later two ordinary sports bags were on the floor. The men quickly straightened the beds, picked up discarded clothing and stuffed it in their satchels. They tidied the desks to make the room look as if it hadn't been used, found the girls' handbags, checked for their personal papers and stowed them away. One of them listened at the door while the other took a last look around. At his fellow's nod he hefted one of the bags on his shoulder, grunting at the weight, and opened the door. He took a quick look around, nodded, removed his mask and ran silently towards the stairs. His fellow grabbed the other bag, closed the door behind him and locked it. A few minutes later they were running across the lawn towards a cluster of bushes. The whole operation lasted less than fifteen minutes.

Jim stirred in his sleep and peered into in the darkness. 'Had there been a strange sound?' He listened, but heard only his wife sleeping beside him and closed his eyes again. The two men, who'd just entered the small flat, stood stock still, listening intensely, until the slow breathing of two people asleep reassured them that all was clear, then moved silently to the bedroom, spreading out on either side of the double bed and bowed over the two faces with their canisters ready.

A cruising police car slowed down when two men left the block of flats overlooking the park in the early hours of the morning, casually, but expensively dressed and carrying what looked like golf bags over their shoulders. They strolled down the pavement towards an underground parking lot, talking and laughing, without taking any notice of the car, and the officers drove away.

The two teenage girls were babysitting each other while their parents went to a weekend convention together. They had dutifully answered the phone at the frequent checks, assuring that the house was kept secured. Their parents arrived home earlier than expected to find the gate locked and, after leaving the car in the driveway, the alarm switched on. John Crowson deactivated it and entered by the front door. The house was silent and the sitting room tidy; not even a can of coke littered the table in front of the TV. His wife looked surprised and pleased and went upstairs with her friend to wake up the girls. The two husbands had just opened a couple of beers in the kitchen when she came back. "John, they're gone. Chris and Millie aren't here". He stared at her and saw her eyes brimming with tears. "They haven't slept in their beds and some of their clothes are missing. Oh, John, can they have run away?"

Ben had just bared his girlfriend's ample breasts and was kissing her nipples when the back door of his car was opened and a blast of cold hit the two flushing faces. He opened his mouth to cry out, but felt darkness close around him and fell limply over Liz' half-naked body.

Caroline wept, her fifteen-year-old body wrecked by helpless sobbing. She hugged herself, trembling with fear and cold. Not the slightest glimmer of light penetrated the darkness around her and the only sound was her own sobs. She had gone to bed as usual, kissing her parents good night, and now woke up here, naked.

Charlie carefully felt his way through the darkness, sensing cement floor under his bare feet, but found only concrete walls until he reached a metal surface. 'The door', he thought, and groped around its edges. It had no handle, was in fact totally blank and fitting closely. He moved on until his shin bumped against the shelf on which he had found himself when awakening from his drugged sleep, and sat down, head in hands. 'Think!' Rosie and he had just got off the last bus, returning from the disco, and could see the door to her parents' house, when he sensed movement behind them. Before he could react, he smelled something medical and after that his memory was blank, until he woke up here. 'Some sort of knock-out gas', he thought, 'but why?' Their parents were far from rich, could hardly be expected to pay a ransom, and why had his kidnappers stripped him? He was close to despair when he thought about his girlfriend. 'Was she in a similar room, naked like him. She must be terrified, or...'. He pushed the thought of rape away and rose again. 'Shit, it was cold!' His six feet four muscular body shivered and he lowered himself to the floor to begin a series of push-ups. 'Must get warm, must keep in shape. Just wait until I get my hands on those guys!'

Eddie blinked, momentarily blinded when overhead light suddenly illuminated the small room where he had spent hours in darkness, and heard a metallic voice: "Get up and face the wall opposite the door. Put your hands behind your head and close your eyes". "Like Hell I won't!", he shouted, "Just let me out of here, bastards! What have you done to Ann?" "The bunk, you're sitting on, and the floor is wired. If you don't do as told, you'll receive an electric shock. You've got ten seconds". "Go fuck yourself!" The next moment his naked body was writhing on the floor in excruciating pain. "Ten seconds". He had just managed to get on his hands and knees when a new blast made him collapse again. "Shit!", he moaned, "OK, I'll do it". "Twenty seconds". He struggled to his shaky feet and stumbled to the wall, placing his hands behind his head. "Close your eyes". 'Shit, they must have a hidden camera'. He did as ordered and heard the door opening. "Stay where you are or you'll get a double dose". He was fuming with rage, but remained as he was, listening to the sounds of something being placed on the floor and the door closing again. "You've got fifteen minutes, so get a move on". He lowered his arms and turned to see two plastic bowls and a bucket just inside the door. One of the bowls contained water, the other a grey substance, with a spoon stuck into it. "Bastards!", he mumbled and grabbed the water bowl to quench his raging thirst. He sniffed at the other bowl, but it carried no smell, and took the small plastic spoon. The gruel was almost tasteless, and, hungry as he was, he wolfed it down. After that he emptied the water bowl, looked up to see if he could locate the camera, shrugged his shoulders and squatted over the bucket to piss and shit. He rose, grimacing with disgust, and stared angrily at the door. "What about some water for cleaning, bastards?" There was no answer and he paced the cell until the voice spoke again: "Back to the wall. Resume the position". He contemplated another rebellion, but remembered the pain and did as told. The door was opened and closed again, and the light went out.

A dark van stopped in front of a storehouse at a remote harbour and two men jumped out to stand in the glare of the headlights until they heard someone unlocking a door. The driver extinguished the lights while his fellow went to the back of the van and opened the hatch. Two men from the house joined them. "Got them?" The driver shrugged. "No. They weren't at home, but their servants woke up. We hadn't been warned about them, slept in a garden shed". "Shit! You got rid of them?" "In a way. They surprised us when we were leaving and we knocked them out with the gas. Had a look at their shed, no phone, couldn't have called the cops. Don't think they would, look like illegal immigrants". "Look like?" "Yeah. We brought them along. You decide what to do with them, Giorgio. Maybe you should keep them". He turned on the interior light and the two men from the house peered inside. On the floor was a naked couple in their early twenties and obviously Hispanic. The young woman was petite, about 5', with long black hair and heavy breasts. The man was not much higher, well proportioned, with sinewy arms and legs and a very long penis. "We cleared out the shed, not that they had much. Their employers will think they've run away, especially when they take a look at the lady's jewellery box". The driver grinned and hauled some necklaces and rings out of his pocket. "Hmm". One of the other men took a closer look at the unconscious bodies and turned the limp woman on her stomach. "OK, we'll keep them. Good thinking and good work".

"Assume the position". The light came on and Charlie rose from the bunk to face the back wall. As taught the hard way, he put his hands behind his neck and closed his eyes. "I've been here for days. How long will you keep me, us, and what have you done to Rosie?" There was no answer and he dared not move. Three blasts of electricity had quenched his lust for rebellion. 'For now', he thought and heard the door close again. "Not much longer and your black whore's OK, now. It took only two blasts to tame her". He spun around, lowered his hands and clenched his fists. "Bastards!" "Shut up and prepare for transport". He stopped short and looked at the items deposited by the door. The bucket was there, but instead of the two bowls, a small bundle of black cloth and a pile of chains rested on the floor beside it. "Piss and shit, you won't have another opportunity for some time. There are two sets of cuffs. You use those with the chain for your ankles, sit down on the bunk, put the hood over your head and cuff your hands behind your back. Ten minutes". "What! No way, bastards". For the fourth time during his imprisonment he fell screaming to the floor and this time the blast continued for almost a minute, while he was writhing and moaning in severe pain. "Had enough?", the metallic voice asked. The boy rolled on his hands and knees. "Yeah, bastards!" "Ten minutes". He crawled to the bucket and forced himself to empty bowels and bladder, then examined the two-foot long chain. It was quite light, but didn't give a fraction of an inch when he tried to break it with his strong hands, and the cuffs looked professional. 'Shit', he thought and closed the set around his sturdy ankles, grabbed the handcuffs and the cloth and shuffled to the bunk. The hood was large enough to cover his head down to his shoulders and, although there was a glimpse of light below it, he couldn't even see the floor right in front of him. With a frustrated sigh he cuffed his right wrist and moved his hands behind his back to close the second cuff.

After a brief wait he heard the metallic voice again: "Get up and turn around, slowly, kick your legs and raise your arms". He demonstrated that he was shackled securely. "Shake your head". His jailers were apparently satisfied and the door was opened. "Don't get any ideas, boy. We're wearing shoes with thick rubber soles". He abandoned the thought of kicking when he sensed someone behind his back, and was suddenly frightened when a noose was slipped over his head and drawn close around his neck and hood, completely cutting off his vision. "Hey, what are you doing?" "Relax, boy. We won't hang you". He felt a tug and followed his captor out of the cell. The floor under his bare feet felt the same and he shuffled docilely along until stopped. "Sit down and keep your mouth shut. One word and we blast you". He felt the edge of another metal shelf behind his knees and sank down. Someone was seated on his left, another naked body. He could feel the heat from it and pushed closer. 'Rosie?', he thought, but dared not open his mouth, and sensed that it couldn't be her, rather another male. They waited and after a while heard clanging of chains. A third naked person sat down on his right. 'Male again', he thought, and wondered how many they had captured. Another three were seated further down, but still none of them spoke. 'Tried being blasted, just like me'.

They stayed quietly there for what seemed a long time, unable to determine if any of their jailers were near, not daring to move or speak. "You're heading for a trip, boys". They still used the loudspeaker. 'To obscure their voices', Charlie thought. "Before you get any ideas of resisting when you leave our nice floor, we'll demonstrate what'll happen if you try anything foolish". There was a muffled yelp to the left of him before he felt something touch his chest. A sharp pain hit him and he couldn't suppress a scream. Four more screams came from the right and the voice spoke again: "That was a cattle prod, set at the lowest voltage. Imagine what it'll do to your balls, with more power". Charlie felt the man on his right shuddering and despaired again. 'These people obviously knew their business'. Someone fumbled with the rope around his neck and moved on to the next man. "On your feet. You're tied together, so walk carefully. Follow the man in front, the ground is even, and stop when told". The six chained men rose and the first in line felt a tug at his rope to make him shuffle carefully after his captor, the other victims following. They passed across more cement and felt cooler air around their naked bodies. 'Going outside', Charlie thought, and sniffed. Even through the hood he could smell the sea. They progressed slowly until they felt wooden planking under their bare feet. "Stop and kneel". The row of hooded men carefully lowered themselves and once again waited for some time, listening to the sounds around them.

"Now we take you one by one, walk carefully and follow your guide. Remember that he's got a prod". Charlie heard one of the others get up, his chains clanging. Some minutes later his neighbour rose to be led away. Shortly after, his neck rope was loosened and a hand on his arm yanked him up. He shuffled about fifty steps along the planking. "Careful now". The hand turned him to the left. "A short step forward". His toes hit an obstacle. "Raise your foot as high as you can, there's one step up". He stumbled, but the firm grip on his arm steadied him. "Now five steps down". He felt his way down a flight of narrow steps and found planks under his feet again. His guide led him forward and the floor moved slightly. 'A ship', he guessed and almost tried wrestling free, but caught himself. 'No use, chained like this, and with that prod'. "We'll take over from here, mate". A new voice, but still with the metallic distortion. Another hand grabbed his arm and led him on. "Ten steps down". He banged his brow on the way. "That should teach you to keep your head down", the voice sneered, and he was led along what seemed a narrow corridor. "Last step, up". He raised his foot and sensed that he passed through a doorway. "Stop and kneel". He was forced down and felt a new shackle closing around his right ankle, then heard the guide walk away. There was at least one other person in the room, but none of them said anything. The guide returned three times, telling a new arrival to kneel. At last Charlie's handcuffs were removed and he could rub his wrists. "Take off your hoods when you hear the door closing. You may talk, but take care of what you say. There's a loo behind the other door, with a shower, use that. You can drink from the tap and there's some food in the cupboard". The door was closed and bolts rammed home.

Charlie clawed at the noose to tear it and the hood from his head. Even the dim light blinded him and he had to blink a couple of times before taking stock of his surroundings. Six bunks, three on top of each other along the walls took up most of the space in the small room. Another five naked men were kneeling on the wooden floor beside him, one of them removing his hood to reveal a black face. "Hello there, I'm Fred". "Charlie". The next man freed his head. "Jim". "Hi". He was big and muscular, almost as tall as Charlie. "Hey, get those hoods off, guys", he called to the other three, turning to help the man beside him. Fred rose from his knees and looked around, then down at his feet. Like the others, his ankles were still cuffed and hobbled, and a chain ran from a second cuff on his right ankle to a ringbolt. Charlie got up and rattled his own chains. "We're not going very far just now", he tried joking. "Guess not". His new fellow nodded to the last three men. "Hello again. I'm Fred". An extremely handsome man, who looked a bit older than the rest, introduced himself, "Eddie", while another, of about his own age, Charlie guessed, actually offered his hand. "Ben". The sixth man, whose swarthy complexion revealed his ancestry looked shyly at the others, but kept silent. The black man shuffled to him and grabbed his hand. "And you are?" "Fernando, Sir". "I don't think there are any 'Sirs' around here, just a bunch of captives".

Jim sat down on one of the lower bunks. "Let's get comfy and expand the introductions". The others chose seats beside and opposite him. "OK, I'm shocked, angry, and bloody helpless and guess it's about the same with you, so let's forget about that for a moment and try to restore some sort of normality in this crazy place. I'm Jim, like I said, Jim Butler, thirty years old and married". He looked away, swallowing hard. "My wife's name's Mary. I don't know what may have happened to her. We went to bed one night, don't know when, and next thing I woke up in a dark cell. They blasted me a couple of times, the bastards, until I did as told. That's about it, only I suppose they took Mary as well". "Same story with me". The handsome man took over. "I'm Eddie Johnson, thirty-two, married to Ann. Went to bed in our apartment, woke up in a cell, blasted. You know the rest". "And me", the black man continued, "Fred Lyons, married to Pat. Bed, cell, blast, chains, here. Oh, and I'm twenty-nine". Jim looked at the other bunk. "You seem a bit younger than us". "Nineteen. Charlie Morton. Rosie and I, Rosie's my girlfriend, had been at a disco and were on our way home when everything suddenly went blank and I woke up in one of the cells". "Same age, Ben Sorenson". The other teenager looked defiant. "Me and Liz were kind of cuddling in my car when two men attacked us. Sprayed something into my face and that's the last I remember, before the cell". "Sprayed?" "Yeah, some kind of gas, I think". "Same with Rosie and me. It must have been powerful and instant. I had no chance to fight". Charlie clenched his fists. "Course not, don't blame yourself, man", Fred assured him. "I, we". He looked at the other two on his bunk. "We didn't even wake up". "Excuse, Sir". The wiry Hispanic coughed politely. "It is gas. My Maria and me, we wake up and see two men come from the house. The mistress and master is away and we think they is thief. We try hide, but they see us and spray from can and we go to sleep. Wake up in cell". "Yeah, and you're Fernando what?" Jim asked. "Alvarez, Sir. I is twenty years and my Maria is married a year. We come work with house and garden". Jim nodded. "OK, let's have a look around. It seems that the chain is long enough". He got up to open the narrow door at the end of the room to reveal a small bathroom, with a sink, a lavatory and a showerhead on the wall beside it. "Huh, at least we can clean up a bit". "Yeah", Eddie agreed, "Let's hit the shower. I don't remember being as dirty as I am just now. Least not since I was a kid".

Ben got up as well, but went to the other door and pressed his ear to it. "Hey, I can hear someone moving outside". "Probably one of those guys guarding us". "No, there's more than one and I can hear chains". Fred joined him. "Yeah, you're right, could be our girls. Least I hope so". "Hope so?" Ben stared at him. "Yeah, at least they're not...". "Shit, man, you mean... Fucking bastards!" He banged the door. "Hey, lemme out!" Fred grabbed his hand. "Stop that. You'll only hurt yourself". "Bastards!", the teenager mumbled and grabbed the chain anchoring him to the floor. "Hey, if we haul on these, all of us, maybe we can break them or tear them out". "I strongly advise you not to try". A voice came from a hidden loudspeaker. "Firstly because your can't break free, secondly because there are armed guards outside, and thirdly because it would make us very angry, and some other passengers might get hurt. I don't think you'd like that". All of them looked up and stood still, but heard nothing more. "OK, he did warn us to be careful of what we say". Eddie lowered his voice to an almost imperceptible whisper. "But now we know. They've got our girls". "Yeah, for what?" Ben sank down to the floor and buried his face in his hands. The older man crouched beside him to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We don't know, do we, but at least they're alive, and so are we. There's always hope".

Pat heard the door close and the bolts shot home, and raised her hands to remove the rope around her neck and the hood. She'd heard the girl, who was next in line when they were marched from the cell building, sobbing uncontrollably and felt her body trembling against her own while they were waiting on the bench. The hood came off and she turned to the crying girl. 'God! She can't be older than sixteen', she thought and grabbed her noose to loosen it. "No, no, leave me alone! Why are you doing this to me? I want to go home!" Pat quickly revealed a delicate face, crowned with a mane of brown curls. The girl's eyes and cheeks were red and puffy, tears seeping from under her tightly closed eyelids, and her hair matted with sweat. Pat stroked her cheek with the back of her hand and she recoiled violently from the soft touch, screaming and babbling incoherently. The older woman slapped her left cheek, hard, backslapped the other and the left again. The screaming stopped and the girl collapsed on the floor. "You bitch! Why did you do that?" One of the other prisoners had got her hood off and stared angrily at Pat. "Because she was going into hysterics, could end up completely catatonic". She bowed over the sobbing teenager and grabbed her shoulders to drag her onto her lap, cradling her gently. "Hush, dear. It'll be all right". She looked up at the blonde woman. "I'm a nurse. I know what I'm doing". "Sorry". She got back a sheepish grin. "I'm Ann". "Pat. Could you help the others?" Another three naked females were on their knees beside them, but made no attempt to remove their neck ropes or hoods. Ann turned to her neighbour. "Come on, love, no need to hide yourself". She freed a delicate face with dark, slanting eyes. "Lovely, aren't you?" She gave her a quick peck on the cheek and scuttled to the next girl. "I can manage", came a surprisingly calm voice. The blonde nodded and moved to the brown body beside her.

In the next cabin Mary Butler had removed her hood almost before the door closed behind their jailer and looked around to see five naked women beside her. All of them were tearing at their neck ropes and hoods and five dishevelled heads appeared one after other. "Did he say something about a loo?" A dark face turned frantically from side to side, spotting the narrow door at the end of the room. Its owner jumped up and her incredibly long legs brought her to it in a few short strides, ankle chains rattling along the floor. She flung open the door and fell down on the toilet bowl. Fractions of a second later the others heard splashing and a relieved moan. "Gosh, that was close. Aah!" The blonde girl beside Mary turned, grinning hugely, and offered her hand. "Guess it was. Hi, I'm Liz". "Mary". "Sorry about that, girls". The brown beauty rose, looking somewhat sheepishly at her fellow captives. "You know how it is". "Sure, and I'd better take your place". Another blonde long legged girl hurried to the bathroom. "Chris", she said and sat down to let loose her stream. A fifth girl, with raven black short hair and an almost flat chest, rose. "She's always like that. I'm Millie". The last naked girl was still on her knees, looking shyly at the others. "Hi there, what's your name?" Millie offered her hand. "Maria, Miss Millie". "Just Millie". The brown girl wiped her crotch and washed her hands in the small sink before returning to sit down on one of the lower bunks. "Whew! I'm Rosie. Boy, am I glad to see you. I've been locked up in the dark for weeks, but I guess it's the same with you". Mary sat down beside her. "Not weeks, a few days, I think, but it's hard to keep track when you never see daylight". "Guess you're right, days it was. At least three. God, it's nice to be out of there. They electrocuted you?" "Twice". Chris left the bathroom. "Dumb blonde, that's me". She sat down on the other bunk and rattled her ankle chains. "Feels kind of funny". Millie stared at her. "Chris, you're too much. Is that all you have to offer?" "Well, I could say how nice it is to see your cute face again, darling, but what else is there to tell. I mean, we've been kidnapped, locked up, kept naked, tortured, brought here in chains, to a ship if I guess right, and are on our way to God knows where, and what. Any of you been raped yet?" "Chris!" "Don't you 'Chris' me, Millie. That's what we must expect and you know it, so why not face it?" "How old are you, Chris?" Mary asked. "Seventeen, why?" "You're remarkably calm". "No, I'm scared shitless, but I won't show it to those bastards". "That's the spirit", Rosie confirmed, "Never give up, never give in". The blonde girl nodded. "Sure. You a runner?" She looked at the muscular brown legs. "Yeah, you too?" "Just cheerleader, too lazy to use these for some real work". Chris looked down at her own long legs. "Well". Mary rose. "I don't know about you girls, but I've never felt as dirty as I do now. How about trying out the shower?"

"So, dear, nice and clean again". Pat finished drying the teenager and with an arm around her shoulders gently led her back to the cabin. "Now lie down to rest". The girl mutely allowed the nurse to place her on her back and cover her with blankets. She lay staring at the bottom of the bunk above for a moment, then closed her eyes. Seconds later her breathing revealed that she was asleep. Pat sighed with relief and looked at the four naked women on the opposite bunk. "God, that was close", she whispered, "I think she'll be OK now. Why don't you shower? I'll take the last turn. Hope there's enough hot water". "OK". The stunningly beautiful blonde turned to the petite girl beside her. "You go first, dear". The Asian nodded and padded to the bathroom, closing the door as far as her ankle chain allowed. "Right. I'm Pat Lyons, qualified nurse and married. My husband's a computer engineer, Fred. I don't know what happened to us. We went to bed one night and the next I remember is waking up in that awful dark room". "Same with us. I'm Ann, married to Eddie Johnson. Both of us work as models. Clothes", she added hastily, "Advertisements". "You're about my age, I think. I'm twenty-seven". "Two years older, but you are much younger, dears?", Ann asked he two girls huddled close together beside her. One of them nodded. "Nineteen. I'm Janet Smythe and Kal, Kalia Pathee, is my roommate. We, they must have done the same to us, drugged us in our sleep, I mean". "Bastards, but clever bastards, to get away with it". "What, what'll happen to us?" The Indian was on the verge of tears. "I don't know", Pat answered with a glance at the girl beside her to ensure that she was still asleep, "But I can guess, and I don't think there's any reason to lie to you". "Nope", Ann confirmed. "Better face it than try pushing it away. We can just as well begin to adjust". "Adjust to what?" "Aw, Kal, you're not that dumb. Why would anyone kidnap six beautiful girls, strip them naked, scare them shitless and chain them up on a boat?" Her friend shook her head. "No!" "Yes, Kal, and don't you dare panic now. Think of those two poor kids". The Indian closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I'll try, but I'm not sure I can". "Course you can. Lotus position, deep breaths, use your training. Come on". Janet sent the older women a grim smile, hauled her friend down to the floor and forced her to take up the position, then sat down beside her. "Together now, in and out, in and out". Ann gave a thumbs up sign to Pat and went to the bathroom.

"Gosh, aren't we just beautiful? What a haul for those bastards". Chris grinned to the five other naked women. "You think they're selling us to some Arabs?" "Chris!", her friend protested. "They might", Rosie answered calmly. "But I've heard about some other mysterious abductions. People suddenly disappearing without a trace until their families receive a letter from them, telling that they're OK and will come back one day, but without further explanations. And they did come back, at least the two I've heard about, but never told what happened to them". "You're positive?" "Yes, one of them is a close friend of one of my colleagues. She was upset when she disappeared, and there was a fuss, but it died down when the letter came, or letters, I think there were more than one, and then suddenly she was back". "Unharmed?" "Not entirely, I don't think. The point is that she did come back and got her life together again. The last I heard was that she got married". "For how long was she gone?" "I don't remember exactly, but I think about two years". "And she never told anything?" "Not a word to anyone, as far as I know". "Strange, maybe she was brainwashed". "Perhaps. Anyway, let's just hope it's the same guys who've taken us, but just now I'm starving". "Me too". Chris looked into the cupboard. "It's the same shit we had in the cells". She showed some plastic bags with a grey powder. "Just add water, I guess. Well, well, at least it didn't taste too bad. Didn't taste of anything, really".

The distinguished looking elderly man opened the last folder to study the text sheet inside, then looked closely at the photos. The first showed a naked young woman stretched out on a table. Her eyes were closed and she seemed asleep. The next was a close-up of her face, crowned with blonde hair. Another depicted her full breasts, firm and not sagging, even if their owner was on her back. The nipples were dark brown, with very large aureoles. On the fourth her legs were spread and the sex openly displayed. Her crotch was hairless and her labia lips well defined, topped by a clearly protruding clit. The last two showed her straight and flawless back, a firm, rounded arse, and slim legs with slender feet and long toes. "An excellent shipment, Giorgio. I am very satisfied". He looked up at the young dark haired man sitting in front of his desk. "Thank you, Sir. Sorry about the fuck-up with the last catch". "No need for excuses. I understand that the couple, I wanted, was involved in a road accident that same night and ended up in hospital, but their substitutes will do very well, even if they are a bit different from the others. Some clients will find them refreshing and if not, we can always use extra servants". He nodded to the young man. "As I said, I am highly satisfied. I shall express that to your father". "Thank you, Sir". "This was the second delivery of which you have been in charge, I believe?" "Yes, Sir. I assisted my uncle on one before that". "Quite, and I think it about time that you learn about the outcome of your excellent work, see the other end of the line, so to speak". "Yes, Sir?" The young man looked expectantly at him. "If you can spare the time for it, you may stay here until the new shipment arrives, as my guest". "Thank you, Sir. I'll be honoured". "And pick some of the slaves to play with, of course. Enjoy the pleasures of my paying guests". "Thank you, Sir. That little brunette from the last haul?" The older man looked a computer screen. "I am afraid not. She is at present serving a regular client. It seems that he cannot have enough of her". "No wonder. So young and fresh". "I suppose so, even if she is not quite so fresh any longer". "Then the blonde dancer with the big tits?" "Yes, she is available. I shall tell Reception to assign a suite for you and send her there".

"Yes, Sir, the Director just called. Please follow me, Sir". The receptionist left the counter and went towards the lift. Giorgio looked hungrily at her bare buttocks while she walked in front of him across the marble floor. She was nearly naked, only a flimsy apron, made of transparent silk and fastened around her slim waist by a thin golden chain, covered her front from hips to bare feet. A golden leather collar encircled her long neck and she wore similar leather bands on wrists and ankles. Her breasts were bare and her shaven crotch clearly visible. She opened the door to the lift and stood aside to let him enter, stepped in and pressed the button for the first floor, then knelt at his feet with her hands clasped behind her back and bowed her head. When the lift stopped, she remained on her knees until Giorgio went out to the thickly carpeted corridor, then rose gracefully and preceded him to a door almost at its end and opened it for him. "Your suite, Sir". He nodded and entered a sitting room, comfortably furnished with low chairs and tables, a desk and a big TV and stereo rack. The far wall was one great window, opening to a balcony where a glass railing did nothing to obstruct the magnificent view over a glittering blue bay, encircled by two headlands, overgrown with lush greenery and sloping down to the white sands of their beaches. The girl moved silently to open a door. "Your bedroom, Sir, and bathroom". He strode in to see a large double bed, another couple of armchairs and a second TV. A half open door offered a glimpse of a luxurious bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub.

"Nice, very nice". "Thank you, Sir. Would you want me to introduce you to the special equipment, Sir". "Sure". "Thank you, Sir". She went to the head of the bed and grabbed a small ring in one of the bedposts. It came loose to draw out a light chain. "This snaps onto your slave's wrist or ankle restraints, Sir". She clipped it to her own wrist. "There's one in each post. Very convenient if your want her spread on the bed, Sir. You press this button to stretch her". She snapped it off and let it slide back. "These are for anchoring ropes, Sir". She raised the bedspread to show a number of hooks embedded in the frame and pointed to another row in the ceiling. "Okee". "And there are snap-locks for her ankles here, Sir". She knelt at the foot of the bed to show them. "If you should like her bent over the railing. And over here, Sir". She went to a section of the wall covered in dark wood. "You press this button and have another position for her". Two chains dropped from the top of the panel and another pair on the floor. "This button gives you the hanging shackles". They descended from the ceiling. "There are two slits in the carpet beneath them, Sir, with the ankle chains. Just turn the buttons clockwise to have her well stretched or raised". "Fine!" "A special feature, Sir, which amuses many of our clients. The trapeze". She pressed another button and an iron bar emerged beside the shackles. "You lower it". The bar reached the floor. "Place it behind her knees, tie or cuff her hands in front of her shins and haul her up. This position gives easy access to all of her orifices and is very convenient for whipping her arse or the soles of her feet". "Yess!" He felt his cock stirring. "And if it should please you to keep her more steady while taking her from behind or whipping her back or breasts, you may use this, Sir". She pressed yet another button and the panel parted to let a strong beam appear. Two legs spread automatically at its front end to form a sawhorse. "If you make her straddle it, she'll be most uncomfortable, Sir". Her hand slid along the sharp edge. "If she's facing the wall, with her hands cuffed to it or on her back, her anus is well placed for your use, Sir, and you may enjoy her screams when her labia is split by the beam". She shuddered, but calmly continued the instruction. "This button gives you the stocks, Sir. Very convenient when flogging her back or just store her". Another panel opened and a metal contraption was unfolded. Its top beam had holes in the middle and on each side to trap a victim's neck and wrists, and two rods at an angle to it on the floor had similar fastenings for ankles. "In here". She opened a panel. "You'll find a selection of whips, floggers, paddles and canes, as well as nipple clamps, alligator or adjustable, labia clips, clothes pins, spreader bars, and a set of portable stocks for her hands and feet". She presented a metal rod with four curved spaces. "Very popular among clients. It can be used with her hands in front or behind to keep her locked in various positions, sitting, kneeling, on her back or standing. There's a supply of ropes and chains, and differently sized butt-plugs and dildos, double and vibrating as it may please you. There are various gags if you don't want to hear her scream, and blindfolds if you prefer not to see her eyes, Sir".

"Very good". "Thank you, Sir". She closed the panel again to make the different objects disappear. "If you want to use more advanced equipment, such as a rack or a wheel or place her in a cage, it may please you to use the dungeon, Sir. Your slavegirl will be happy to show you where and how. If you wish to enjoy the cool of the evening, she'll show you pegs on the beach to spread her or chains to tie her to a tree or hang her from a branch, Sir". "Yess". His eyes were gleaming with lust. "She'll of course be available to you in any way you wish, Sir, but sexual use of her must be restricted to your suite, apart from occasional fondling of her body". "Not even in the dungeon?" "No, Sir. The Director doesn't want the island turned into a permanent orgy. She's also trained to serve as a housemaid. There's a well stocked bar in your sitting room and the kitchen can provide almost any kind of snacks or meals. Your slave will show you what other facilities the resort has on offer, such as lounge, bar, restaurant, gym, swimming pools, tennis courts, and golf course, and serve you there as well. She'll be available to you throughout your stay, but the actual slave will change every twelve hours. The use of two slaves is included in each period of twenty-four hours". "I can't have the same girl for more than twelve hours?" "No, Sir. You can get her back after another twelve hours, but all slaves must have a rest between sessions". "Ah, well, that's reasonable, I guess, or they'll be worn out all too soon". "Yes, Sir, and most clients do appreciate the change. An exhausted slave is not much fun, Sir". "No, I see the point, but I asked for a specific girl". "Yes, Sir, and she's in your sitting room. A guard will fetch her in twelve hours, if you haven't dismissed her earlier. She can show you our range of available slaves on the closed circuit channel. There's a binder at your desk, with detailed descriptions of all of our slaves. If you see one of them somewhere on the premises, you're of course welcome to inspect her, if she's not serving another client. She'll be happy to show what she has to offer. Please observe that slaves wearing golden collars are not available, and that you may not use a slave intimately unless she's actually serving you". "OK, but then I can do anything to her?" "Almost anything, Sir. Whipping and similar hard use must be restricted to your private premises or the dungeon and kept within the limits stated in the rules of the resort.". "OK, I'm not that fond of hurting girls, just want a bit of fun". "Yes, Sir, and I hope you'll be satisfied. If not, please ask for a replacement and state the reason for your complaint". "OK, any other rules?" "There's an information folder in the desk, Sir. Clients are encouraged to study it, but I've mentioned the most important parts, except that clients are not allowed to enter the slave camp, which is clearly marked by a fence and has only one entrance, with a guard". "And if I break the rules, I'll be expelled?" "Yes, Sir. The Director has set them up to ensure that all of our guests have a pleasant stay and enforces them very firmly".

"OK. You said she's in here?" Giorgio returned to the sitting room and stopped abruptly. A young woman was in front of the window, displaying herself, hands clasped behind her head and legs spread. She was dressed in a long skirt made of the same white, transparent silk as the receptionist's apron, fastened low on her hips with a chain and slit to the waist front and back and along her legs, and a sleeveless top made of the same material, covering her from shoulders to just below her breasts. With her back to the window, the garments did nothing to hide her body, only enhanced its charms. Like the receptionist, she was wearing a collar, wrist and ankle straps, but made of white leather. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back almost to the waist and her eyes were demurely lowered. "Jackie, Sir, as ordered. Her speciality is masturbating you with her feet. Many clients find that amusing. She's a very good erotic show dancer, if you want to build up your expectations or revive yourself, Sir". "Excellent!" "Thank you, Sir. Do you have further questions before I leave you to enjoy her?" "Well, yes, a few about this place". "Yes, Sir. Would it please you to be served a refreshment, Sir". "Sure. Gin and tonic". "Yes, Sir". The receptionist opened a wall cabinet to reveal the promised bar and began mixing his drink, while Giorgio took a closer look at the half-naked girl. He went around her, licking his lips at the sight of her well shaped arse, and fondled her D-cup breasts through the flimsy silk. She neither moved, nor raised her eyes. "Your drink, Sir". The receptionist knelt beside an armchair. "Thanks. Dance, girl". "Yes, Sir". The blonde began moving her arms and rocking her hips.

He sat down and accepted the offered drink, watching the dancing girl intensely. She slowly increased her movements, still rooted to the same spot, and he was fascinated to see her shake her breasts, rotate her hips and make ripples in her belly. "Shit!", he whispered and took a large sip, then noticed the other girl. "Ah, yes. What's the price of staying here?" "Two thousand US dollars for the first twenty-four hours. That includes transport from the mainland, a one-bedroom suite like this, all meals and beverages, use of the facilities the island can offer. Ensuing periods of twenty-four hours cost $1.000. Each term with the free use of a slave, Sir". "Two actually, but could I have more?" He was still watching the dancing slavegirl. She rose on tiptoe and did a slow pirouette. "Yes, Sir. The charge for an additional slave is a further $500 for twelve hours' service, $200 for shorter terms up until three hours". "Do people hire more than one?" "Often, Sir. Some clients find positioning and whipping a slave tiring and hire another to do the work, often a male slave, or find it refreshing to have a choice between slaves". The dancer turned her back to him, spread her legs and bent almost double. Her hips rotated and her arsecheeks shook, making the skirt part to offer him glimpses of her narrow hole, while her breasts danced between her legs. He could hardly contain himself, but took another sip. "How many slaves are there?" "About 150, Sir, a third male". "So many. You must have a lot of guards to control them, especially the men". "No, Sir. There's no need for control, all slaves perform willingly. We have guards for security and for monitoring the clients". "Willingly, but...". He caught himself. "I see, and how many clients?" "We have fifty suites, Sir, but rarely more than about thirty clients staying at one time". "So only one sixth of the slaves are working. What do they do when not serving a client?" "Some clients use more than one slave at a time, as I said. But all slaves have twelve-hour shifts, if they're not the property of an owner. When not actually serving a client during work shifts, they perform other tasks, as maids, gardeners, serve in the restaurant, man reception. Slaves do all manual work at the island, Sir". "And the rest of their time. When not working, I mean?" "Slaves are free to spend it as they wish, mostly sleeping, Sir, but they work out regularly. To stay fit is important for their performance". "Of course, very clever, but you said something about slaves who're not available?"

The dancing slavegirl had turned again and was slowly raising the top to reveal her breasts. "Some clients prefer owning their slaves, instead of renting them, Sir". "They buy them?" "Yes, Sir. Clients may reserve the exclusive service of a slave for six months". "So owned slaves have no rest periods?" "No, Sir, but owners are encouraged to be careful and considerate. Owned slaves are often allowed free time and the owners seldom stay for extended periods. They mostly come for weekends or for a week or two. When their owners are not present, owned slaves may work ordinary shifts, but are not available to other clients and therefore marked by golden collars. Such work pay for their upkeep". The slavegirl had removed the top and were caressing her breasts, squeezing them and offering them to him, while still dancing slowly. "How much would I have to pay for a slave?" "It varies, Sir, they're priced by the Director. Some girls can cost as much as $50.000". "Fifty grand, for six months!" "Yes, Sir, but many slaves, and most of the males, sell for $10.000 to $20.000. The cost of accommodation must be added of course, $500 per day for a suite without the service of a slave. Some owners want to be sure to enjoy their owned slave at any time and therefore pay for a permanent suite. In that case the slave may stay there in her owner's absence and doesn't have to work for her upkeep". "Whew, some of those guys must be filthy rich!" "Yes, Sir". "And a slave can be sold twice a year! We're talking real money here". "Yes, Sir". "How many slaves are owned?" "Normally between twenty and thirty, mostly females". He eyed her golden collar. "I can see that you are". "Yes, Sir. My mistress arrives tomorrow". "Your mistress?" "Yes, Sir". "So there are lesbians here?" "Clients have various preferences, Sir". "Faggots too". "We have male clients who prefer male slaves, Sir". He emptied his glass and watched the slavegirl remove her skirt. "Well, it's about time I enjoyed my dancing girl, I guess. Thanks for the information". "I'm happy to have served you well, Sir". The receptionist rose gracefully, sent her fellow slave a smile and left without a sound.

"Hey, they're starting the engine". Charlie cocked his head. "Very clever", came the voice from the loudspeaker. "We're just about to sail. The trip will take two or three days, probably three, because we're running into bad weather sometime tomorrow afternoon. Unless you're used to sailing, you better eat well tonight and tomorrow morning, but take nothing but water after that. When you feel the boat beginning to rock, piss and shit all you can and lie down on your bunks". "Thanks a lot, and if the boat goes down?", Ben called. "You go with it, so pray". The loudspeaker clicked off and the six men looked gloomily at each other.

"You're a damn good fuck". Giorgio withdrew from the girl's slippery tunnel. "How come you're so narrow. I mean, you must have had a lot of cock up there". Jackie, who was chained spread-eagle on the bed, raised her head. "We train our vaginal muscles, Sir". "Is your arse just as good?" "Other clients have kindly said so, Sir". "Looking forward to it, then, but just now I need a drink". He reached for her right wrist to unclip the chain. "Can you free yourself, I've got to piss". "Yes, Sir. What may I serve you". "You got champagne?" "Yes, Sir. Do you have a favourite brand, Sir?" "No, just as long as it's not too dry". "Yes, Sir". He disappeared into the bathroom and she quickly freed her other hand and her feet, rose wearily and swept the soiled sheet off the bed. She used it to wipe her crotch, grimacing with disgust, bundled it into a wall cabinet, spread a fresh one, shook the pillows and hurried to the sitting room. When the Italian came back he found his slavegirl on her knees beside the bed, an opened bottle of champagne in a cooler on the bedside table and a sparkling glass in her hand. He sank down on the bed and accepted it. The naked beauty carefully arranged the pillows behind his back and sank down to sit on her heels, hands behind her back, legs spread to show her shaven crotch, and eyes downcast. He took a sip, nodding appreciatively. "Are you allowed to drink with the clients?" "If they may wish so, Sir". "Would you like a glass?" "If it may please you, Sir". "It does, you've earned it. Get one". "Yes, Sir". When she came back to top up his glass and fill her own; he asked her to sit at the foot of the bed and toasted her. She took a small sip and lowered her eyes. "The other girl said that you do this willingly?" "Yes, Sir". "So you're a whore?" "If it may please you, Sir". "And you like it?" "I'm happy to serve well, Sir". 'Damn, he's fantastic, that guy', he thought, 'Wonder what he does to them. Three months ago she was a happy little dancer back in the big city'. He looked at her shapely feet. "She said you're good with those cute little toes". "Do you want me to please you with them, Sir?" "Sure, go ahead". He spread his legs and she sat up between them to catch his limp member between the balls of her feet and begin a gentle rubbing. He let his head drop back on the pillow to enjoy her ministrations.

The boat shook violently when a new wave smashed into its bow. Pat clutched Caroline's small body closer and prayed. Hours later she heard the loudspeaker. "We're through the worst. Catch some sleep, we'll arrive in about ten hours".