The Searcher

Winter 2000 re-write


When Rosemary's younger sister, Penny, goes missing after answering an ad for
entertainers overseas, Rosemary follows her footsteps to rescue her.  She is
kidnapped under the eyes of her husband and is taken into a world of white
slavery.
	The beautiful blonde, together with her fellow 'slaves' suffers sexual
humiliation and training, discipline, exercise, pony racing and hideous torments
from both sexes as she is trained into a harsh new world, but always searching
for her missing sister.


                               SEARCHER
Rosemary Pearson (Peterson false name ) (Trixie)
Damien (Rosemary's husband)
Miles (Foreign Office guy 
Lindsey (Dixie) - Italian.
Laura (Copper) - Young - probationer policewoman
Penny( Pixie) - Rosemary's sister
Mark (Michelle)
Lynne (Loopy) - Teacher
Kate (Flasher)
Miss Mitzie  (Firm but Fair)
Mr Sampson (firm but fair)
Miss Wang ( Teenager - Miles' lover - jealous of Rosemary - spiteful)




		THE SEARCHER  /  CAMP OF ANGELS



				PROLOGUE
		

The villa was cool and white with neatly trimmed, well-cultivated gardens.  Its
clean white net curtains stirred lazily in the warm gentle breeze beneath a
cloudless azure sky.  A woman, probably in her mid twenties wearing a green
dress, casually closed the door behind her.  Waving cheerily to someone within
the villa she strolled to a waiting car in the drive. 
	Tightly pressed against a pair of binoculars, the eyes of the young
Englishman waiting some way down the road beyond the villa's drive, widened in
thanks as the apparently familiar figure of the wife he adored emerged from the
villa.  Outwardly it was an idyllic, Arabic scene, but if one looked closer,
behind the scenes, one would see that this facade was not exactly as it at first
appeared.
	Inches behind those neat curtains a beautiful blonde woman squirmed
frantically, desperately, on the lap of a grizzled, fat Arab man over twice her
age.  Perhaps not that unusual one might say?  Maybe neither that she was stark
naked?  However, any vestige of even near normality disappeared rapidly when it
was appreciated that her wrists were tightly bound behind her.  Further, she was
gagged and the woman in the green dress was leaving wearing clothes which the
bound woman had worn just minutes earlier when entering the villa!
	Worse, the Englishman watching patiently from the car was her husband
and had no idea, how could he, that the figure in the familiar green dress was
not his beloved wife!  How could he know that she was in reality naked and bound
straining in vain to attract his, or anyone's, attention?      How Rosemary
hated the utter, calm possession with which the Arab's gnarled hand rested on
the perfect golden spheres of her shivering bottom.  He was hot and sweaty,
making her moan through her gag.  Touching, gently patting, he abstractly
squeezed her cheeks, sliding over the firm flesh. 
	Although she wriggled in disgust she wasn't totally sure whether that
disgust was at the liberties he was taking with her - or at herself and the
tingling warmth spreading between her thighs.  She shook herself banishing such
stupid thoughts.  Normally her temper would flare, green eyes flashing, if
anyone dared touch or pinch those pert curves perhaps beneath a tantalising
short skirt or jeans; especially a total and obnoxious stranger such as whose
lap she lay upon.  Now, however, not only was that luxury denied her but she was
also completely exposed before him.  She tried to shout, to object as a finger
idly curved between the clenching cheeks of her buttocks, brushing her secret
entrances, making them contract in a useless attempt to prevent that curious,
loathsome digit. The only sound to emerge from her bulging mouth was a subdued
grunting squeal, which merely seemed to amuse him.
	She had expected something to happen to her, was almost welcoming it,
but nothing as total as this, nor so soon after her arrival in the country.  The
old Arab knew that he held all the aces; that she was helpless and could treat
her just as he damn well pleased.  A tiny frisson of excitement sparked at the
thought before she angrily banished it.  Then, unceremoniously he simply rolled
her over, dumping her painfully on the floor, dismissed.  She was no more than a
piece of meat - and indeed had seemingly no more control over her destiny than
such a carcass.
	Rosemary's fevered brain marvelled abstractly, through the physical
discomfort of lying on her belly on the hard cold floor, at the immobilising
effect one tiny length of plastic could have.  The thin serrated strip simply
encircled her thumbs, but it fastened them tightly together behind her back.  In
turn, her ankles although not bound were trapped one below the other beneath her
pinioned wrists folding her legs back painfully.  They strained outward for
release making it impossible to pull them back sufficient to slip under her
wrists.  Thus one tiny insignificant strip of plastic confined her whole body.
	Her feelings of helplessness were compounded not only by the wide strip
of tape holding in place a filthy rag which had been stuffed in her bulging
mouth as an effective gag, but also her complete nudity. 
	Additionally as an extra cruelty she had to hold her head up in a
neck-straining tangent from the taut bow of her body.  This was because whenever
her head slumped and she failed to look continuously, despairingly, at the Arab
slob who now relaxed in a chair right before her, he growled.  He emphasised his
will with a horsehair fly-swat across the sensitive bare soles of her raised
feet.  After several stinging lashes, punctuated with her muffled yelps, her
first such lesson in obedience had been learnt.     
	The painful confinement and enforced neck-aching posture ensured that
her lush breasts were shamelessly thrust out from her curved body to touch the
floor beneath her like two inverted cherry-tipped ice-creams.  Tears ran from
her large eyes dissecting the heart-shaped beauty of her face.  The woman who
normally enjoyed being in control of events pondered yet again why she had
voluntarily put herself in this position?





					CHAPTER 1

Rosemary Pearson, at twenty six, was more like a mother to her younger sister,
Penny.  Their parents had died when they were both quite young and she had
assumed the role of keeping a maternal eye on her.  Such a role had added iron
to her already strong character. 
	Aged nineteen, with tresses as golden as Rosemary's although longer -
nearly to her waist, Penny aspired to the stage.  She dreamt one day being a
famous actress, dancer or singer.  However her wild spirit and recklessness, and
brushes with the police, always prevented the right people investing their time
or money on her.  A recent escapade with drink and a suspicion of drugs had
prompted a drama school to withdraw a promising invitation.
	Rosemary despaired for Penny, wondering if she would ever make a go of
things. Then had come another invitation.  She had become involved with an
overseas entertainment company - the Lavery Road Troupe - which at face value
had seemed to offer her some promise.  Indeed it had seemed a good opportunity
because Penny had then been experiencing some difficulty with her temporary job
with a London based Middle Eastern investment company. 
	There were accusations from a wealthy Arab businessman, quite groundless
Penny assured her, over a missing cheque; and only if Penny was no longer
employed by the company would the man cease his boycott of them.  The
alternative job offer from Lavery had come the same day, saying her name had
been passed to them from the drama school, and thus letting everyone off the
hook without loss of face. 
	Rosemary figured that a complete change of scene for Penny would
probably be no bad thing under the circumstances.  Maybe deep down she also
envied the youngster.  Rosemary enjoyed life, a comfortable, middle class
existence. But sometimes she wondered whether that was what she really wanted,
continuously for the next sixty years? 
	It was thus decided, and within days Penny flew out to Hassan.  
However, the subsequent lack of contact from Penny had now aroused Rosemary's
fears.  Her husband Damien had tried to assure her that all was well and that
Penny would write or ring when she had established herself.  But her woman's
intuition told her differently.  She knew Penny would not have let over two
weeks go by after she left for her training with these Middle Eastern people
without getting in touch.
	The small Arabic country of Hassan was rich in oil but poorly served by
traditional Western values; Rosemary had researched the internet.  However,
politics and economics dictated that Britain and most other Western countries
ignored the occasional, unspecified rumours of barbarism towards convicted
felons, which leaked out of that feudal country.   At the end of the day,
unfortunately, who cared if a few unknown troublemakers ran foul of the local
police - except perhaps anxious loved ones?
	With hindsight Rosemary realised that she had not felt totally at ease
with the concept of Penny signing up with the entertainment company in a remote
country she had barely heard of.  However, she was realistic enough to know
there would have been absolutely no point in putting any alternative viewpoint
to her impulsive sister when her mind was made up.  Then again, Lavery's
references had seemed impeccable and her sister really needed to make the break
with her current circle of friends and the fringes of the law.
	Finally, Rosemary decided that direct investigative action was needed -
if only to put her mind at rest.  Her determination, equal to her sister's, and
relentless inquiries, led her to an address in a seedy area of London with
Lavery emblazoned above the door in gaudy letters.  It was here that she had
first met Miles Brand.  The tall, distinguished Englishman had been leaving the
premises as Rosemary arrived and, glancing casually, yet intriguingly around, he
had discretely asked her business there.
	Something about him soothed any caution and she had sketched her
concerns about Penny.  He showed her an impressive identity card announcing the
bearer to be an official of the English Foreign Office and suggested that they
have a quiet chat over a brandy before she went into the Lavery office.
	Why had she listened to him?  She wasn't normally that open to
suggestion.  It wasn't just his suave manner though. With shifty-looking
characters standing casually in every other doorway under garish, enticing
signs, she suddenly realised that she needed his large shoulder to lean on in
this urban jungle. 
	Miles had confirmed her worst fears, the British Government apparently
had the Lavery organisation under discreet investigation.  This followed the
loss of contact with other Britons and Westerners who had broken local laws. 
Although they normally got in touch again after many months they were by then
changed people.  It was believed that in Hassan some form of prison parole
system operated to the benefit of the few rich ruling classes, who had the
Government in their pocket.  Those who went missing, invariably pretty girls,
would end up staying on the country working for 'clients' there or elsewhere in
the Middle East.   The organisation seemed to have more to do with prostitution
and white slavery than entertainment! The women were seemingly lulled, and maybe
subsequently paid, over the months into being high class call-girls for rich
Arabs, frequently choosing to remain in Hassan after their deliberately vague
contracts were up rather than return home and face inevitable shame.
	Miles - he insisted on first name terms to put her at ease - explained
the difficulty and delicacy of the political situation. Britain needed Hassan's
oil and trade and there was no great public interest in the fate of criminals
over there, especially as they normally did turn up, but by then voluntarily
leading a sleazy life.  He said that he was desperately in need of evidence so
that action could be considered against the Lavery organisation - maybe shame
the Hassan Government into disowning them?  If only, he had said, he had someone
whom he could trust to undertake such a Mission - otherwise probably little
could be done.
	"Can I maybe do anything ... ?"
	It wasn't just his good looks or air of confident authority and power
that had made Rosemary hesitantly make the offer.  She did want to help Penny -
and it seemed there might be no other way. 	
	"Gosh, are you sure?  It would be really good if you could spare a week
or so and could make all the difference for your sister," he had ventured before
she could vocalise any change of heart. He assured her that he could put a
tracer on her.  Then if she could somehow get into the Lavery organisation he
could arrange the rescue of her and Penny in a covert SAS-style raid. 
	After the second brandy Rosemary had agreed that if she arranged to
commit in Hassan some minor parking violation, for instance,  she would probably
be sucked down into the same route as her sister; a Trojan  Horse.  And she
naturally wanted to help her sister if she was in any difficulty.  Further, if
she was honest with herself, she was in rather a rut. A young, glamorous, yet
bored housewife whose husband was often away - and who perhaps wanted more from
life? 
	A week of adventure, he assured her that would be the maximum, rather
appealed.  Also there was the wealth of stories she would be able to
subsequently tell at cocktail parties as the heroine of the piece, the brave
woman who had risked life and limb for her sister.  She gradually felt more at
ease with the idea, also knowing that given the right persuasion Damien would go
along with it if she insisted. 
	Her acceptance of the scheme took on more substance when Miles had shown
her a tiny bug.  He said he would attach it to one of her teeth with superglue. 
When rubbed with her tongue the friction would send a homing message over a
distance of 200 miles. Within an hour of that message going out she and any
other girls in her vicinity would be rescued.  She would be paid too, not only
with Foreign Office expenses before and after but also by an initial fee from
Lavery if they accepted her.
	He suggested she visit the Lavery office, but not mention her sister. 
He advised her to inquire after work under a false name, understanding they were
interested in women of all age groups as dancers and hostesses, but mainly
beautiful ones such as she!  Rosemary flushed, she knew she was beautiful but it
was always good to have it re-enforced, especially by someone like Miles.  She
had once been a dancer and the brandy-induced glow made her even more sure that
she could muddle through. 
	He further advised that she play down a little to her husband what she
would actually be doing, assuring her that she couldn't come to any real harm
and there was no need to worry him unnecessarily.  It was something she was more
than capable enough of handling by herself he emphasised.  They made an
appointment to meet at 1pm in the Foreign Office in Whitehall the following day
so she could report progress, but he gave her his mobile phone number just in
case she needed to contact him urgently. 
	Warmed and fortified by the Dutch courage of the drinks Rosemary's
interview with the Arabic man and woman in Lavery went more smoothly than she
could possibly imagine.  Flattery oozed from every pore of the man, commenting
on her beauty and graceful body.  After taking a brief photo-set he indeed
thought that they would be able to offer her a six month contract as a hostess
and dancer.
	One part of Rosemary's brain wondered what on earth she was getting
into.  The other part didn't care! Completing the application form, she used the
name, Peterson and omitted any mention of having a sister.  Apparently a medical
was necessary as a pre-qualification and, after a brief phone call, the Arab had
made an appointment for her the following morning with an expensive private
consultant just off Harley Street.
	On the way home when the brandy's warm glow had ebbed somewhat Rosemary
decided to take Damien into her confidence.  Probably Miles wouldn't approve -
but what the heck!  That evening a reluctant Damien was finally convinced by his
wife's powerful, persuasive and seductive arguments to accept the plan.  The
excitement of the proposed adventure together with the knowledge she would be
helping her sister and other young women had made her come especially alive in
the bedroom that night. 


Poor Damien didn't know what had come over him.  He was bending over to set the
alarm when he heard Rosemary padding behind him and smelt her perfume as she
pressed herself against him from behind, contour to contour.  He could feel the
softness of her breasts, thrusting against his back through the thin material of
the yellow tee-shirt she wore in bed.  Her hands slid over his chest to hold his
nipples, her full soft lips nuzzling his neck as she pressed the heat of her
loins against the round hardness of his buttocks. 
	He straightened as one of her hands slid down from his chest to the
rapidly enlarging bulge of his pants.  Tantalisingly her cool fingers slid under
the waistband, just brushing the throbbing head of his erection as if wiping
away invisible crumbs.
	"I wonder ... can he come out to play in my place tonight big boy?" she
breathed huskily in his ear. 
	Damien felt the down from her pubis tickling his buttocks as her urgent
thighs straddled his in a pincer movement whilst she ground her soft heat and
juices against him.
	The complete and far reaching contrasts of his wife's behaviour in the
bedroom was one of the reasons for his attraction to her.  She was so alive, a
presence which could light up a room, so difficult to ignore.  She was 5ft 4
inches in stockinged feet, slim, without being thin, with shapely 36B breasts. 
Her small pert, rounded bottom thrust so sensually through the short skirts or
the leggings she often wore.  It was always difficult not to stroke or pat it,
either in private or public.  Her bubbling personality and beautiful
heart-shaped face and wide green eyes, framed by shoulder-length wavy blonde
hair all served to bewitch the eye and enslave the heart. 
	Sometimes in the bedroom she would be his willing slave girl, his to
command.  Her large eyes would glow with desire as he ordered her to completely
undress herself and then him.  Maybe he would have her bend over so that the
beautiful rounded globes of her buttocks with the delightful velvet secrets
between were soft against his palm.  Then he would gently spank her till her
cheeks positively glowed.
	Possibly she would have to lay across his lap, her breasts and warm sex
pressing, squirming against his legs as he tanned her smooth nates, feeling them
clench in exquisite anticipation under his familiar hands.  Afterwards he would
have her kneel on the carpet with bottom thrust high and thighs wide so that he
took her from behind. The silken depths of her liquid womanhood willingly took
in the long throbbing intruder, feeling it grip him whilst one of his hands
mauled, pressed and squeezed her hanging breasts.  His other hand would be
further down between the ripe wet valley guarding her sex.  He would press and
flick the hard ripe bud of her clitoris, strumming over her, playing tunes with
her sexuality like the chords of a delicate harp.  Rubbing and trailing, his
fingers delved into and over the secret valleys and folds between her legs,
alternately hard and soft. 
	When her body and his had reached the correct pitch, when he sighs and
wriggles became unbearable, he, as conductor, would enter the finale.  Thrusting
deep into the molten sheath of her vagina, he would feel it squeeze and grip him
in time with the clenching of her buttocks.  He would kiss, suck and nibble her
neck, hearing her growl like an animal from beneath the silken screen of her
hair.  Her hands clenching into the carpet, he would spend himself, jetting his
lust deep into her whilst his hands simultaneously squeezed the buds of her
nipples and clitoris producing electric whirlpools of desire tingling around his
body.   
	At other times when he played the dominating role he would make his
slave girl spread-eagle on the floor or bed without being allowed to move an
inch whilst he entered and conquered her.  Any attempt on her part to move
resulted in him withdrawing until just his tip, glistening with the urgency of
her love juices, remained within the portals of her sex.  Her womanhood would
grip him frantically almost trying to suck him back without moving her loins as
he had instructed.
	Equally good was when they simply made love jointly active and inventive
but almost without talking.  Each one would let their body communicate for them. 
Maybe they would just lie side by side until the rub of an erect nipple or penis
would initiate a reaction until their limbs entwined in an explosion of moist
lust.
	However, Damien realised that this was one of those occasions when
Rosemary wanted, and had, control.  On such nights he might be turned away from
her in bed, maybe asleep, and he would feel the soft yearning of her naked body
pressed against his back. 
	"No moving buster or you can forget it.  You do only as I say," she
hissed through clenched teeth, her sweet-smelling breath hot against his neck. 
	He had to lay on his side, feeling her nipples brush his back like two
berries, the warm furry mound of her sex grinding and pushing against his
bottom, whilst she toyed with him. Her fingertips  lightly brushing his chest,
teasing a nipple before rippling on, stirring the hair on his chest like a light
spring breeze through corn.  His long, aching erection jutting out, yearned for
action or just attention - but that was denied him until she decreed it.  Her
cool hands caressed his shoulders, chest and belly in little circles of
throbbing desire whilst her lips mouthed most unladylike things in his ear using
the crudest language.  Every time he hoped a hand would encircle his throbbing
member it would lightly skip away again making him groan and sigh.  Of course,
if he tried to move any part of his body she would completely withdraw until he
gasped, pleading for the return of her body and touch.
	Her fingers ran down between his buttocks to circle the dark puckered
skin around the bud of his anus, exciting the sphincter muscles with the
promise, or actuality, of tiny probes of desire within his body.  Then she began
stroking the length of his aching penis, cupping his tight, straining testicles. 
But woe-betide him if he dared to move or respond.  She would occasionally bring
him to a bursting peak with her one hand whilst whispering in his ear what her
other hand was doing to her own body, how she wanted him deep and throbbing
within her.  He knew then that she would either complete the final jerking,
sliding thrusts to make him spurt his frustrated lust or she might, panting,
order him to mount and thrust into her in time to her counting.  It was always
unknown, exciting. 
	Now she had him remain standing facing the wall whilst he heard the
swish of her tee-shirt sliding off and the creak of the springs as she lay on
the bed.  He was forbidden to look at her but he heard the hum of her vibrator
and she described in horse whispers exactly what she was doing with it.  Then
she told him to remove his pants whilst still facing the wall.  He just had to
hold his jutting erection between the tips of his thumb and forefinger without
moving his trembling digits.     
	Finally Rosemary allowed him to turn around.  He had to keep his hands
on his head as she stood naked, directly before him.  She was a vision of
beauty, a perfect figure and a glowing, expectant face.  Tongue circling her
lips, she ran her hands over the hard peaks of her breasts and down the flat
plain of her belly to enticingly twirl the thatch below.  He caught his breath
as she walked slowly, purposefully up to him, lightly smacking the magnificent
globes of her buttocks as she did so.  Then her cool hands were encircling his
rigid member whilst she edged forward, straddling her thighs, trapping him
between the hot wet lips of her sex.  He felt the erect, berry-like nipples of
her desire tickle his chest as she edged closer to him. 
	"Now, my darling, I've a little story ... to tell you ... hah ... an
adventure story, involving me.  I want you to listen ... aahh ...  without
interruption and ... who knows ... you might get a nice reward at the end of
it." 
	Her lips opened over his after every few words, her tongue like
quicksilver, darting into his mouth, stroking his tongue before continuing.  All
the while she told of her meetings, playing down any danger, her hips undulated
gently, flowing over his trapped penis.  He could feel the moist, hairy heat
surrounding her throbbing bud and would have agreed there and then to virtually
anything to delve into her velvet promise.    
	She continued to plant breathless kisses on his mouth, cheeks, throat
and shoulders as she sought his approval to the rescue scheme.   With no
rejection of her idea Rosemary allowed further intimacy.  Her juices as she
straddled him, made his erect throbbing root hot and wet as she slid the tight
glove of her womanhood up and down his pulsing shaft.  Her hair fell over his
chest as she sucked his hard nipples deep into her mouth, nibbling, not allowing
him to move at all.  He had to remain completely still, spread-eagled on the bed
as she pumped him dry.  When he so much as twitched, her curvaceous haunches
stopped their teasing movements.  She arched up on her knees until only the head
of his throbbing member remained in her silken warmth wagging her finger at him
with a wicked grin on her face until he subsided and she slid him back into her
waiting vagina with a sensual swish.
	When she had him on the brink she purred to him that she would go along
with Miles' scheme anyway but that she preferred Damien's support.  He gasped
his agreement and was rewarded by the sheath of her sex giving his aching penis
a delightful squeeze. When she had drained him she lay quietly, undulating full
length on his glowing body.  He stroked a trembling hand up and down the smooth
arched dip of her spine, stroking the soft flesh of her bottom, whilst his other
hand played with her hair.  He always wondered and marvelled at his wife's
antics and although he wasn't entirely happy he knew he would have no hope of
deterring her now.  Her mind was made up!
  
The medical was one of the most thorough Rosemary had ever undergone.  She felt
a little unnerved when the consultant asked her to remove all of her clothes
behind the screen, but he looked to be a gentleman and of advanced years - and
the presence of an efficient looking nurse put her at ease.  If she had known
that both the small mirror in the changing cubicle and the bigger one in the
surgery each concealed a camcorder she might not have felt quite so at ease. 
	How was she to know that the Arab from the Lavery office paid the
elderly consultant well to conceal the cameras and that he was operating them by
remote control to record and zoom in on every detail of her magnificent body. In
addition to the examination to ensure that the girls had no hidden defects, the
secret portfolio helped the Arab find a market for the girls who passed through
his hands.  Of course a copy was made for the consultant to keep in his private
collection. 
	Walking naked across the room and turning gracefully so that he could
check her balance, legs raised and parted wide for a most intimate of
examinations, the camera faithfully recorded every supple movement, every velvet
womanly secret she possessed, the bouncing breasts and flexing buttocks.   

The consultant, looking rather flushed after an hour's such 'work,' assured
Rosemary that she was 100% fit and that he would be reporting as such to her
prospective employers.  His heart was racing at the thought of relaxing that
night with a whisky whilst he looked at the video.  Again he would see her
standing before him, chest heaving, slightly flushed in her complete nudity from
her swan-like neck down the delightful curve of her back to the roundness of her
bottom and slender thighs.  Her hands instinctively covered the delightful
curves, but largely ineffectively, as he peered into her open mouth, his white
coat occasionally brushing the golden flesh. 
	He would re-live the succulent feel of the delightful creature.  Stroke
again the wonderfully smooth texture of her shapely breasts and firm buttocks. 
Then perhaps visualise the heat of that exquisite vagina nestling in the
down-covered mauve ripeness of her sex lips with the tight puckered entrance
behind, deliciously tight when he probed. 
	He guessed that the girls who passed through his hands from the somewhat
furtive Lavery organisation were destined for a world where such facets counted
for a lot and he envied whoever would have the use of such beauty.  Still, he
was paid enough in cash in addition to his normal fee to ensure any such
surmising remained only in his head. 

Rosemary just had time to leave the surgery and arrive at the imposing entrance
to the Foreign Office in Whitehall, through which countless famous diplomats had
passed, as Miles was leaving.  She was aware of the many masculine eyes
appraising her beauty in a clinging, low-cut dress - so out of place in this
street of sober suits.  He was full of apologies.  He had left a message with
his secretary but another urgent case required him to conduct a stakeout from a
hotel.  Rosemary was naturally impressed! 
	He told her that by chance he had all the details Rosemary would need,
including the bug, in his case.  She accompanied him to the room he had booked
in the nearby hotel, amused as he cursed an employee for not having the camera
equipment yet installed by the window.  Her eyes flicked over the room's large
bed, then flushed, hoping that Miles had not seen her appraisal.  	
	She drank in his masculinity as he leaned right over her whilst she sat
in a chair mouth wide open for him to insert with tweezers the little bug
against a rear tooth.  His aftershave was expensive, his touch firm.  In seconds
the glue had stuck it fast and he assured her it wouldn't come out until he
applied a solvent after the job was over.  It was so unobtrusive but when she
rubbed it with her tongue a buzzer and light reassuringly flashed on a control
panel Miles carried.    
	Rosemary's heart beat faster as the strong cool hands lightly held her
face, a finger brushing one of her pink ear lobes.  In a moment of madness she
knew that she wanted him to sweep her up, crushing her yielding softness against
his lean hard body.  She wouldn't have resisted him, indeed she felt a
fluttering warmth below her tummy.  It was all business however.  And she
guessed that, in truth, she might have had doubts about the whole scheme if it
had been otherwise.  He naturally couldn't offer her a written contract in his
line of business but he gave her, as good faith, ?1000 to cover her initial
expenses.
	When she and Miles met in the bar of the same hotel at the appointed
time a week hence she showed him with excitement the contract she had signed
with Lavery the day before and the air tickets they had supplied her to fly to
Hassan some two days later.  She had already spent some of the ?2,000 of the
initial payment of her Lavery contract to buy a pretty new flowing green dress,
slit up one side to reveal tantalising glimpses of tanned thigh as she walked. 
She knew it was daring but she had to look the part and luckily this particular
country currently largely turned a blind eye to the more fundamental beliefs on
womens' bodies being totally covered in public.  Rosemary was slightly
apprehensive yet happy that she was about to do something positive for her
sister and indeed her country!  
    
Damien drew Rosemary close for one final moment of intimacy before they must
depart for the airport and henceforth act as strangers.  Her arms encircled him,
holding him tightly, urgently, the mounds of her breasts against his chest, the
warmth of her loins against his.  He looked down at her tousled blonde head and
kissed her hair, tasting lemon from her shampoo and breathing in her freshness
as she nestled against him, gently kissing his neck.  The delicate musk of her
perfume drifted up to him, hungrily, he grasped her chin and tilted her lips up
to his.  Her sweet mouth opened and their tongues chased and entwined together,
but slowly, inevitably - as they both knew they must - drew apart.  He planted a
kiss on her eyes, tasting the salt from her tears.  The taxi's summoning horn
made them finally part and Rosemary repaired her make-up on the ride to the
airport. 
	The house was suddenly empty physically and spiritually after he had
waved Rosemary goodbye.  It almost mocked him for letting such a precious gem
go.  Without thinking he found himself in their bedroom retrieving Rosemary's
tiny tee-shirt from under the sheets.  He slowly drew the still warm garment
across his face savouring the special fragrance of his beloved.  Somehow he
hoped that action would eventually draw her back to safety; it had once before. 
	The act brought back sudden sharp, painful memories.  It had been three
years ago and he had been similarly lying in bed after a bout of lovemaking. 
The police had called at their home to notify him that Rosemary was amongst
several hostages being held by robbers in the bank where she had been visiting
as a business consultant.  Throughout that long day news gradually trickled out
of their plight, no full details just dark hints and supposition.   	
	The worst moment came that evening when, after various deadlines had
passed the television news showed Rosemary reading out a demand from an open
door.  To emphasise their power they had her stand at the door in just skimpy
bra and pants, hands bound behind her. Damien saw with a unconscious tightening
of his knuckles and almost a loosening of his bowels the new red satin underwear
he had only recently brought her.  It clung to every curve, every contour of her
beautiful body as she stood in the doorway under the harsh, white unforgiving
glare of the television lights.  Her bare feet and red painted toenails rubbed
nervously over each other. 
	The vision of her loveliness and vulnerability was etched into his mind,
just as the hard cones of her nipples were etched into the satin fabric of her
bra, the other contours of her beauty so visible under the thin covering. With a
leash around her neck, she repeated in hushed tones the demands from the masked
men behind her. 
	The final part of the whispered message was that from then until the
final deadline, the hostages would be naked and with explosives strapped to
them.  This, she had to repeat, was to ensure the authorities knew the
discomfort being endured by the victims and that further delays would not be
tolerated.  As Rosemary was pulled back slightly from the door at the end of her
message a voice could be heard ordering her to strip out of her underwear and
kneel.  Damien had sobbed as the cameras just caught Rosemary reaching round to
unclasp her bra before the door obliterated further sightings.
	Whilst he had watched on the television, Damien clutched her tee-shirt
to him tightly as comfort to try and ease his feelings of utter helplessness and
misery.  His mind was in a turmoil of hatred and uncertainty wondering what she
was enduring as he tried to thus mentally draw her back to him and safety. 
	When the police stormed in to end the siege without injury to any
hostages the reality was that they had not been treated as harshly as depicted. 
The robbers had simply wanted to increase the pressure on those making
decisions.  And he supposed that it had worked.  However, the mental anguish
suffered by those watching, as intended, had been a reality. Rosemary herself
though soon bounced back.  And he had heard that she could actually have quietly
left the bank when the robbery started!  Instead she had been lured, maybe by
the excitement, into staying put.  He sensed that she might not have found all
of the ordeals as unpleasant as one would expect!  Maybe, he surmised briefly,
she even retrospectively found an element of enjoyment in such things! 
	Thus he knew of old the strength of her will and the uselessness of him
trying now to prevent her doing what she thought was right to help her sister.    


It had made Rosemary feel even more at ease with Damien having insisted on
flying out with her.  A taxi was calling for him 10 minutes later just in case
anyone was watching their house. He would share the same flight but on separate
seats - just in case.  He would also discretely share the same hotel with nearby
rooms but maintain no open contact.  Just keep an eye open for her.
	With the implanted bug, Miles assured her that he himself had no need to
follow her from the airport.   He would just be in the general vicinity in an
official car in case of emergencies.  She was to be met at the airport by a Mrs
Leilla and taken to her hotel - all seemingly quite innocuous.  
	Miles had initially objected but then sensing her stubbornness, just
laughed at Damien's elaborate plan to trail her at a discrete distance in a
taxi.  Eventually he said he could see no harm so long as he remained out of
sight. The presence of her husband was, for Rosemary, just an added insurance in
case anything went wrong with the plans.  She was thus reassured to see both men
on the Arab airlines plane, but as agreed, the three of them were careful to
make no contact with each other.
	It was a relaxing and luxurious flight during which Rosemary even
managed to sleep.  Nevertheless, mixed with excitement, she felt a sense of
panic that events were now actually happening, changing from plans to a current
reality.  This was especially so when, after retrieving her luggage in the
dazzling heat of Hassan's principal airport, she set foot on foreign soil - on a
secret mission and under false pretences.   Then she saw a smiling attractive
Arab woman, of about her own age, holding up a card with 'Mrs Peterson' on it,
suddenly appreciating it was for her! 
	Glancing casually over her shoulder she saw Miles on one side of the
concourse and Damien on the other.  Taking a tighter grip on her small suitcase
Rosemary took a deep, calming breath and strode out to meet her destiny.
	"Hi, I'm Mrs Leilla representing Lavery, how wonderful to meet you Mrs
Peterson; did you have a good flight?"
	The small-talk was mundane but served its purpose of putting Rosemary at
ease.  She relaxed, feeling better already as the young, muscular Arab chauffeur
smiled as he relieved her of her luggage.
	The woman sat on the comfortable rear seat of a luxurious Mercedes
beside her, introducing the handsome hulk driving rather fast as Garth.  As he
steered the car expertly through the traffic from the airport Rosemary was
relieved to see Damien clambering into one of the many empty taxis.  She hoped
the driver would be able to keep up, but reassured herself that, in any case,
Miles would be in an official embassy car somewhere.  Her tongue tentatively
touched the bug behind her tooth.
	Mrs Leilla was very pleasant and beautiful, with long dark hair and of
about the same size and height as Rosemary.  She apologised that they would have
to make a brief detour before continuing to the hotel, but stressed that it
wouldn't take more than a few minutes. Then Rosemary could relax before the
first audition the next day.  The woman smiled effusively, complementing her on
the lovely green dress.  However, Rosemary couldn't help but wonder if this same
friendly person had similarly picked up her sister a scant few weeks earlier. 
Mentally gritting her teeth she forced herself to be equally friendly.  Soon
enough she would be at the heart of the despicable operation and summon help to
wipe the smiles off all of their faces!
	A slight frown had creased Rosemary's brow when they headed deep into
the countryside rather than the town.  However, a tentative look over her
shoulder as she brushed an imaginary thread from her shoulder assured her of a
taxi's presence following in the distance.  
	When they finally reached a villa accessed by a long stony drive Garth
remained behind the wheel Mrs Leilla invited Rosemary in for a moment. 
Helpfully she suggested she wear her sunglasses to protect her from the glare of
the sun.  Rosemary was thankful to see a taxi pull up at a few hundred yards
from the drive's entrance, then Mrs Leilla opened the villa's door and ushered
her inside.
	Its interior was dim in contrast to the bright sunlight outside and
thankfully deliciously cool.  Rosemary also realised that it was deserted,
devoid of any furniture!  When she turned curiously to Mrs Leilla she saw to her
surprise and dismay that they had been joined by an Arab man.  Obviously he had
been awaiting their arrival in the villa. 
	He was probably twice her age and rather like the typical Arab villain
portrayed in films, short, fat, and swarthy.  Both were staring at her with
satisfied, evil smiles on their faces, the man ominously licking fleshy lips. 
She realised then that something was terribly wrong.
	"Remove all of your clothing immediately please Mrs Peterson," Mrs
Leilla had snapped. "Do it now or will be stripped naked by my companion here,"
she indicated the Arab, whose blackened teeth were displayed in a sickly smile.
"You will not be hurt if you do exactly as you are told but one way of the other
you will be naked within two minutes.  It is up to you how you arrive in that
state."
	"What! How dare you! Why?" Rosemary protested, her mind whirling.
	"Regard it as an early audition," the grinning woman suggested, holding
up a copy of the Lavery contract she had signed, pointing out its ambiguous
nature. "Most people passing through here have been firstly arrested having
committed genuine, though small, crimes.  They then serve their sentences in a
manner unique.  Our instructions for you however Mrs Pearson are that you've
already committed a crime by entering this country under false pretences, so the
formalities of arrest have so far been dispensed with."
	"What?"
	Rosemary could hardly take this in.  How had they discovered her?  Her
tongue poised over the transmitter, wondering if Damien would sense something
was wrong and burst in.
	"Lavery's intelligence sources are pretty good and we take the trouble
to check things," Mrs Leilla continued. "We have proof that you entered the
country under a false name.  But I assure you that your final fate will not be
that different to many others who sign up.  However, if you cause trouble, I
just wonder how you will cope in the, real prisons of this country whilst you
await trial.  They must determine whether you really have broken your contract
and why you entered the country illegally.  Some people die from disease in
those holes before being heard."
	 Panic and then hatred flared within her as Rosemary imagined her Penny
being possibly similarly confronted.  Although, knowing Penny's wild nature, she
reasoned, that she probably had indeed transgressed some local law.
	"This is preposterous, why do you want me to undress?"
	The words tumbled out; her mind still jarred. In a flash Mrs Leilla was
by her side.  One hand grabbed her hair the other cracked painfully across her
face. 
	Rosemary gasped in shock, pressing her hand to her stinging cheek,
startled, then angered that this cow had treated her so.  The last time she had
been slapped was at school and she had ensured that other schoolgirl had lost a
front tooth!  But this was not school.  As she now raised her own hand, the Arab
man held it in a tight grip. His fat fingers curled round her wrist like hot,
wet slugs, but the grip was of steel, unyielding.  She glared into the man's
amused eyes, then at the now stern face of Mrs Leilla, panic returning.
	"You do not question me, bitch.  Unless you want to disappear into the
prison system I suggest you strip, or be stripped," the woman calmly advised. 
"With your outburst you have only a minute left to do so." The firm lines of her
mouth contrasted with the quivering lips of the frightened blonde.
	"Pretty lady do as told - or I will do it for you," joined the fat Arab,
tugging down the zip of her dress a little, "I enjoy that - yes."
	Enraged, Rosemary jerked free, but her face was crumpling. She never
imagined events taking this turn, but then again, she knew that something like
this was probable - and had accepted it. At least she still had choices,
options.  She again touched the bug on her tooth for re-assurance, contenting
herself with thoughts of how Damien would soon burst in if they tried to keep
her in this villa or how Miles would come storming in if they hurt her and she
summoned him.
	The gamut of emotions finally cleared her face but she tried one final
imploring look at Mrs Leilla.  It was woman to woman, glancing sideways at the
man, she sought some understanding and compassion.  Surely no woman could expect
her to take her clothes off before the loathsome creature?
	"Forty seconds left Mrs Pearson, there are no extensions to this
important deadline in your life." The voice was calm, assured, brooking no
disobedience; there was no sympathy in the pretty face, just impatience.
	Rosemary realised that she had a duty to Miles, and her sister, to see
the mission through, no matter how unpleasant.  She had never been ashamed of
her body, and secretly delighted in the teasing effect that it had on men.  And
she guessed when commencing her adventure that she might have to use it to
achieve her goal.  Although she didn't relish these particular circumstances, or
the grinning Arab, her shaking hands went to the zip on her dress. And maybe
within her, deep down, was that a tiny surge of excitement she felt?  Ashamed at
even the suggestion of such feelings she began obeying her captors, ignoring the
wider grin of the Arab, his hot eyes undressing her ahead of her hands. 
	"If he touches me you'll all rot in hell," Rosemary muttered under her
breath.
	She had to hand every still-warm garment as she discarded it to Mrs
Leilla whilst the Arab man, thankfully now ignoring the scene before him, tipped
out the entire contents of her handbag onto the floor.  A woman's handbag
contains elements, a cross section, of her whole life, her personality.  Seldom
was a woman far away from its comforting grip.  Rosemary felt desolated as her
private, personal things were handled and viewed by the total and repulsive
stranger. She longed to snatch back her passport, mobile phone, credit cards and
diary from the greedy uncaring hands but sensibly refrained.     
	After reaching behind to unclasp her bra she hooked her thumbs into the
waistband of her small panties and slid them down her legs with a feminine
wiggle.  She normally performed such intimate acts in privacy, or in the
sexually charged darkness of her bedroom.  It was terribly humiliating to do so
before the leering slob and the Arab bitch.  However, she finally stood naked
and blushing, covering herself with slightly trembling hands, glancing between
the man and woman with anxious, yet also enraged, eyes.  Her skin shivered with
gooseflesh in the cool room.
	"You seem clear of tracking devices." Mrs Leilla had spun her around
under a tight grip.  How Rosemary hated the amused gleam in the Arab's eye at
the sight of her soft flesh bouncing under the woman's hands and her attempts to
frantically cover herself.
	When she stooped to retrieve her clothes, however, Mrs Leilla snatched
them away, leaving Rosemary crouching on the floor, hands over her quivering
breasts. The woman gave a brisk order in Arabic to the man who then passed her
Rosemary's hotel booking details from the bag.  Then he advanced menacingly on
her golden nudity, a tiny yellow plastic tag in his large hairy hands. 
	"If you do exactly as the gentleman demands no harm will come to you. 
Remember, alternatively, your precarious legal position and the state of our
prisons.  I can assure you though that it would be more than his own life's
worth to sample your wares," Mrs Leilla said almost mockingly as she began,
worryingly for Rosemary, to take her own clothes off.
	"Stand, hands behind," the Arab managed in broken English.
	A woman, naked as she was, loses not only some her self-confidence but
her will to disobey and thus Rosemary found herself following the Arab's orders
with an almost robotic mind, but her tongue comfortably touching the transmitter
- just in case.   She was secured face down on the cold floor with just the tag
binding her thumbs tightly, making them throb.
	"Aghh," she had winced as he lifted her confined hands, folding and
pinning her legs under them, just above her bottom.  Thus her limbs were trapped
securely, her knees and arms soon aching intolerably from their cramped, folded
confinement.  There was just no way she could unhook her legs.  	The
man's hand slapped down familiarly on the firmness of her buttocks, presumably
indicating he was pleased with her compliance.  But the touch of the loathsome
creature had made her briefly yelp, staring at the brute with angry hate-filled
eyes. 
	Then her attention was caught again by the woman and she looked up
incredulously.  Mrs Leilla was now wearing her dress and shoes.  Further, the
woman had donned a blonde wig and sunglasses.  From a distance Rosemary realised
with a shock that anyone would understandably mistake her captor for herself!
She looked down mockingly at Rosemary's bound form, and into her
beautiful victim's wide green eyes.
	"I hope you are quite comfortable down there.  Maybe we'll need to gag
you too though," she pondered. "Oh I shan't need these.' Mrs Leilla disdainfully
threw Rosemary's small lacy black bra and panties to the Arab man who
revoltingly held them to his face breathing in her intimate essence with
grinning relish. "Abdul likes his little souvenirs," she smiled by way of
explanation. 
	The despairing, bound blonde could only squirm, screw up her face and
shiver in disgust as those garments, so intimate to her, were stretched between
his filthy paws.  She couldn't help but recall the shopping trip with a girl
friend down London's Regents Street a few months ago during which she had bought
that fine underwear.  Remembering how she and her friend had giggled at what
Damien would make of the scanty frilly coverings.  That life seemed a world away
now! 
	Now, to add to her misery the Arab cruelly pinched her nose and thrust a
smelly rag deep into her pink mouth when she opened it to scream.  She pondered
in disgust whether it was his hanky? He then tore off a long length of sticky
tape and affixed it securely several times around her bulging mouth.  Crudely,
he then brutally twisted one of her pink nipples in his sweaty hands so that she
squirmed.  Tendons taut in her neck, her eyes screwed shut, she absorbed the
humiliating burning pain on the tip of her sensitive orb without anything other
than a shuddering groan being able to pass her sealed lips.     	
Seemingly satisfied he stood up whilst Rosemary looked up with helpless, mute
rage as Mrs Leilla retrieved the scattered contents of her handbag.  She could
only grind her teeth in frustration as the Arab woman casually, laughingly read
out a few personal remarks from her diary before dropping it into the bag with
the rest of the effects.   She swung it casually over her shoulder and strolled
out.  Ostensibly, Rosemary was continuing her journey alone with the chauffeur! 
	Guessing the intention, knowing that the watching Damien would assume
that she was freely leaving, Rosemary squirmed helplessly on the cool floor in
her confining bonds.  The amused Arab looked down at his beautiful blonde
captive writhing in her nudity like an eel at his feet. He would have heard her
unintelligible grunts, seen her desperate straining eyes above the broad white
mask of tape across her mouth.
	"Ok pretty lady," he crooned to his squirming victim, "I let you watch
her go."
	

After five minutes Damien was growing rather unsure, apprehensive as he stood at
the entrance to the villa's drive, mingling with a few other tourists from a
local market.  He lounged against a wall apparently examining some worthless
bangles he had just bought whilst in reality looking beyond them; wondering why
the car carrying his wife had called at the villa.
	He resolved to give it a further five minutes and then creep up to
building to take a closer look.  However, having just reached that decision a
blonde figure in a green dress emerged from the villa, waved cheerily to someone
inside and returned to the car.
	Breathing a sigh of relief as he sauntered casually back to the waiting
taxi to order the driver to follow the car ostensibly containing his wife.  He
of course could not possibly see Rosemary's tousled blonde head or wide staring
eyes behind a pair of net curtains in the villa.  He naturally only had eyes for
the figure in the green dress as she climbed back into the car.


If Rosemary's spirit could have left her body it would have done so now and
flown to the figure of her husband so near, yet so far away.  She shuddered at
the Arab's touch on her body. He had spoken softly like a father to a young
daughter as he slipped her ankles from their confinement under her pinioned
wrists and pulled her up from the floor to sit her on his lap on the chair. 
	She could see Damien oh so clearly through the window; he was looking at
the bitch Leilla walking to the car.  Squirming helplessly on the Arab's lap she
was quite unable to touch the curtain or even offer any meaningful sound to
attract her husband's attention.  Indeed, her movements only served to arouse
the horrid creep who held her lushness so tightly against him, bouncing her on
his lap as if she were a child.
	She felt a horrid male hardness through his course cloth trousers under
her squirming bottom; it pushed against her clenching cheeks.  One slug-like
hand confined the top half of her body by gripping the ripeness of her breast
fruit, pushing her softness further down onto him.  The other hand stroked
revoltingly through her blonde tresses as he crooned in her ear, rocking her.
	"It OK little lady, she go now, you stay with me, I take care till you
go on your journey."  He had giggled insanely to himself, dribbling on her
shoulder and slapping her thigh with what seemed to be either merriment or
hatred.
	Such was the yearning within her to burst out of her confinement she
almost stabbed the bug in her mouth, only stopping when she realised that it
wouldn't help Penny, also that Miles was still out there ready to swoop when the
time was right.

				------------

Damien relaxed as the vehicle he was following headed straight for the hotel he
had booked for them both under separate names and rooms.  It stopped momentarily
to disgorge the familiar figure in the green dress who disappeared with her
suitcase into the lobby.  	In case the car driver was looking in his
rear-view mirror Damien had his taxi park a little way down the road.  He paid
off the driver, then walked casually back to the hotel with his own luggage,
whistling cheerily.  So far so good, he considered.

				------------

Whilst Damien's tensions were easing, his wife's were greatly increasing. 
Rosemary had screamed inwardly, mentally to her husband willing him not to be
fooled by Mrs Leilla.  In the straining silence of the empty villa however she
had seen and heard Garth drive the car off.  Then in the distance she saw the
taxi containing her husband depart in pursuit.  A large tear trickled from her
eyes when she saw him relaxing, confident on the taxi's rear seat. 
	Afterwards, the Arab brute had then done, cruel, painful things to her,
prompting her tongue to touch the transmitter again, before dumping her back on
her belly on the cold floor of the villa.  As he casually drank from a bottle,
more silent tears trickled down her face.  It made her realise her own thirst,
but she knew that was the least of her worries.
	She was several times tempted to activate that transmitter and have the
SAS wipe the grin of the Arab's ugly face, but she always regained control of
herself in time.  These people had no intention of damaging the 'goods,' and
being rescued at this stage would not in any case help Penny.  Also, she
couldn't deny almost a sense of almost excitement and stolid pride at enduring
her predicament.  Her life had always been so ordered and planned, predictable. 
Now she was living a real adventure amongst people who obviously appreciated,
rather than sometimes took for granted, her beauty.  It made her feel so alive. 
And she was confident, secure and powerful in the secret knowledge of always
being able to summon help if it became necessary. 
	Abdul relaxed, thinking about the little game he had just played with
the English woman, bound naked at his feet.  It was a game he had previously
enjoyed with some of the others who had been delivered here, as an alternative
to prison, by his brother - the local policeman.  
	This one was a real gem he decided as he softly, thoughtfully trailed
the strands of the fly-swat almost seductively across her shivering white flesh.
He recalled the perfectly smooth firmness of her bottom on his lap and the furry
warmth as his exploratory fingers slid into the coolness of the cleft, how she
wriggled deliciously, helplessly.   But her pretty face had contained a hint of
arrogance he thought, someone who had plenty of the good things in life that he
lacked.  She was someone who wouldn't normally even notice him if they passed in
the street.  He decided to change that.  
	Now she had to notice him,  he smiled.  If she didn't, if she didn't
make the effort to continually, achingly, crane her neck back to look up into
his scarred, weather-beaten face she knew that he had the power to make her
suffer. The swat, caressing - when handled gently - slithered over a bare silken
shoulder, making the woman shiver.  On it went, down into the enchanting dark
shadowed valley between her breasts.  He was remembering how those breasts felt
as he crushed them under his marauding hands, the rubbery tips hard against his
palms.  Also he anticipated how they would feel if he scooped them up in his
hands again and mauled them, sucking their buds into his gnarled mouth. 
Recalling the soft spheres of her bottom squirming on his lap as she watched her
husband leave a hard bulge of excitement again began pressing tightly against
the rough material of his trousers.
	When she had been still perched on his lap he initially offered mock
sympathy for her predicament, licking his furry tongue into the pink warmth of
her small ears rocking her like a large, child.  Unfortunately that brought back
memories of how as a young man, he and his family had been treated by the
Europeans.  He had convinced himself that, because of them, his own child had
died in poverty. 
	Thus he had then slapped her thigh and cruelly tweaked and twisted the
buttons of her nipples until the girl had been forced to look away from the
window and her departing husband. Instead she had to bend down towards his lap
to ease his burning hold on the sensitive tips of her bosoms.  Her confined
hands clenched uselessly behind her longing to tear the pincer-like grip away
from her throbbing buds.  Then kicking her away from his lap and onto the floor
he had swiftly rolled her back onto her belly and tucked her ankles again under
the confinement of her bound wrists. Obviously thankful for the release from his
cruel fingers she had gasped, pressing the tips of her breasts against the cool
floor. 
	However, he then ordered her in broken English, and by use of the swat,
to look at him continuously.  It made him feel good.  Looking into his ugly face
was now the most important thing in her life; something she dared not stop
doing.    
	Eventually though he saw that the rich Western bitch was unable to hold
the straining position and her head fell forward to ease he obvious pain of her
taut neck and shoulder muscles. Thus he lovingly clasped the handle of the swat
gently between two fingers and began lightly flicking the pink soles of her
trapped feet.  It would have been simply irritating at first but slowly building
up to a burning patch of agony on her soft skin.  Nothing too hard though, he
had been told not to hurt her; it was enough to make her squirm deliciously,
rocking helplessly on the floor. 
	"Up, up, pretty lady," he growled in his limited English having
previously grasped and pulled up her chin to make clear his requirements. "I
tell you before, you must always look straight up at me or I hurt you."
	He could see the beads of sweat popping out on her brow as she absorbed
the pain and somehow strained her neck back to look up once again with wide eyes
at her sadistic, grinning tormentor.
   
					----------------

Meanwhile, several miles away, Damien's composure only evaporated when the hotel
clerk told him his wife, the blonde lady in the green dress, had indeed called
in but had departed again leaving an envelope for him.  Confused he ripped open
the manila seal to reveal a copy of the contract Rosemary had signed with Lavery
with a brief note clipped to it. It read:
   
     'Damien,

          Everything's going fine but its best that I stay by
myself to avoid suspicion.  Enjoy a holiday by yourself and I'll
make contact with you and Miles when I see Penny.  Don't worry.
   
                                   Rosemary xx'

	Damien was surprised at the change of plan but not unduly alarmed; or at
least he didn't appear to show it outwardly.  She was, he thought, obviously all
right, and he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself.  The
handwriting in the note was a little rushed but it looked like hers and it was
quite plainly Rosemary who had delivered it.  It was just a pity she couldn't
have lingered a little longer so they could talk.
	He didn't notice the Arab, casually sitting in the hotel lobby look up
over his newspaper.  The man smiled when he saw Damien stroll off unconcerned to
his room.  Damien would have no way of knowing the Arab had practised copying
Rosemary's handwriting, from the various documents she had completed, for
several hours before he judged it was good enough to pass as genuine. 
				TO BE CONTINUED        

		THE SEARCHER  /  CAMP OF ANGELS - PART 2





				CHAPTER  2


So this was death; just an all-embracing silent blackness Rosemary reasoned, no
reuniting with the departed, just - nothing!  Then she jerked awake to the same
silence and darkness in which she seemingly forever existed. 
	She had at first been relieved when Leilla finally returned and she
could slump to the floor relaxing her posture from the Arab's games. 
	"Soon you'll go somewhere safe until we're sure no one is following you;
you might have more tricks up your sleeve," Leilla had remarked mockingly.
	At least though they had released her feet from under wrists; allowing
her the luxury of moving her legs, walking unsteadily at first, to restore her
circulation.  There was also the bliss of being able to stretch and moving her
aching jaws after the gag had been removed - although they had forbidden her to
make a sound on pain of it being restored.  She had thus been good, as silent as
a mouse despite her inner feelings of helpless rage.  Mrs Leilla had kept her
lovely new green dress, instead returning in to the villa in tee-shirt and jeans 
- whilst she was still allowed no clothing. Then she had reason to doubt that
initial relief.
	At first, although preferring a beer or whisky, she had been moderately
grateful to be allowed wonderful cool water, and bread and rice.  This was
despite her hands still being bound and the Arab hand-feeding her.  He had
treated her like a child, making her chew thoroughly, and wiping her mouth.   
Sitting at a table she had felt almost civilised.
	"Sorry there is no wine," Mrs Leilla remarked sarcastically.
	It made tears well up in Rosemary's eyes, recalling how she and Damien
had planned a meal and a bottle of wine in her hotel room this night.  She
wondered what he was doing now!
	Then the Arab woman took her to the lavatory.
	"You are going somewhere where such basic necessities will be difficult
and so I advise you to make the most of this opportunity girl," she had spat
demeaningly.
 	Rosemary had never completed her toilet under scrutiny but her
apprehension assisted her.  She simply had to shut her mind to the woman's hands
wiping her afterwards.
	It was dark when they had moved her from the villa although Rosemary was
scarcely aware of that.  Her feet had been bound again, then the Arab had pulled
her helpless body against him, the hard lump in his trousers pressing obscenely
against her bare bottom.  Her confined wrists twitched ineffectively against the
creep's belly as Leilla slowly advanced with the horribly familiar gag.
	"Goodnight Mrs Peterson," she smiled before her lips descended
unnaturally.
	Rosemary was broadminded, in fact enjoyed sexual adventures, but such
was her hatred for the woman that she certainly didn't relish being kissed by
her and turned her mouth away.  However, the woman's talons, cruelly pinching
the thrusting red tips of her breasts made her mouth open in a gasp of pain.
	"Be nice to me Mrs Peterson, respond properly, I'm the only friend you
have, or maybe you would prefer the attentions of the gentleman?" her eyes had
flicked to the Arab's sweating jowls nuzzling her neck.
	 Then Rosemary had allowed the woman's lips to close gently over hers. 
At least her breath was sweet and her tongue sliding sensuously over hers made a
shiver softly in her fluttering belly. The kiss was seemingly endless, taking
her mind off the disgusting erection thrusting against her Buttocks and the
man's hands holding her thighs.  She was almost disappointed when it ended, her
mouth unconsciously thrusting forward to maintain it.
	"No more for now child," Mrs Leilla crooned, stroking the blonde
tresses, "but I see that you will be good material to work with later."
	Before Rosemary could make any kind of response the fingers again
painfully tweaked her nipples but this time the smelly gag was pushed into her
straining mouth.  Then they had rolled her unceremoniously up into a carpet and
carried her out, trussed like a turkey, to what felt like a van. 
	The journey seemed to last about an hour and then continued slowly over
rough ground making her bounce and roll helplessly.  Then she had been folded
and draped over the Arab man's shoulders whilst he carried her on foot.  When
she was finally rolled out again she lay in the middle of a wood.  Before her
was a grave-length, hole in the ground, although perhaps not so deep.  Within it
the van's lights showed there to be a lined coffin with sack-fulls of earth and
a small log fastened to its open lid.
	"Your new accommodation for awhile Mrs Peterson," Mrs Leilla smiled
cruelly, "I hope it's to your liking, my bedroom as a child was scarcely any
bigger - but then you Westerners wouldn't care about that," she snorted. "A
snorkel and fan arrangement within the log will keep you supplied with air, but
if we see or discover anyone has been prowling around, trying to find you, we'll
just leave you here." She smiled cruelly into Rosemary's wide eyes as she was
lowered into the cool depths of the earth. "Good night."
	Mrs Leilla's breezy wave was Rosemary's last sight before the lid
slammed shut with deep, ominous finality.  The last sounds she heard were of
earth being emptied onto the roof of her tomb.  Then descended total silence
apart from the background hum of a fan blowing damp air onto her belly.   	
She was alone unable to move or scream. 
	After an initial heart-pounding panic attack she calmed slightly.  Time
soon lost all meaning.
	Had Damien discovered something and followed?  Would they thus leave her
here to die?  Maybe some lovers or kids might stroll here.  Mrs Leilla might
think they were looking for her? Head and chest pounding again with panic,
Rosemary managed to get her breathing under control, angrily stopping that line
of thought. 
	She could rub the transmitter.  But would it work underground?  She
suspected not.  Should she try though?  If so, she might save herself but blow
any chance of rescuing Penny.  As they seemed to know who she was, and thus her
connection with Penny, they might even kill Penny if she escaped from this!
	She resolved to try the transmitter only as a very last resort.
	More time passed, endless time. 
	She slept fitfully and grew thirsty, also now wanting to pee but holding
back.  How long had she been here? 
	It was cold and damp. Thoughts of Edgar Allen Poe's books about being
buried alive, which she recalled reading as a child, came back to her. 
Shuddering, she strained again at her bonds.  It was useless, they didn't give
an inch.  And even if she had somehow broken free she was still buried
underground alone in the dark.
	She decided to count to ten thousand and then rub the transmitter.  At
twelve thousand she decided to hold on, count to another twenty thousand before
seeing if the transmitter worked.

			-----------------------------------

	Now she had lost all sense of time, and counting, forgetting what she
was supposed to do when she had finished. Where was she?  Dreaming or awake? 
	She knew now that she had been left here to die; no one was coming. 
Panic set in. Clenching her belly she decided she would soon have to release her
bladder, what would it matter! But she had a method of getting help; what was
it?  Just as she remembered the transmitter again the faint sound of moving
earth above her stopped her. 
	It was her husband's wonderful, handsome face bending over her, he had
found and rescued here; but what now about Penny?  Jerking fully awake again she
was almost pleased to see the Arab man and Leilla's smirking faces outlined by
moonlight.
	"Wakey wakey, time to get up and earn us a living, Mrs Peterson."
	It must have been the following night, the bastards had buried her for
24 hours alone in the woods!  After they had pulled her from the coffin and
untied her cramped legs she thankfully squatted before them in steaming bliss. 
Modesty belonged to her past life, she was quite oblivious to their mocking
smiles.
	Greedily she drank from a water bottle and nibbled the bread they fed
her.  Then she was rebound and once again rolled unceremoniously into the carpet
for the van to bounce her off to its next destination.  
	Was she still buried, had she died? 
	She shook herself awake again, remembering she was simply a helpless
pawn being bounced around the country - her own will or wishes counting for
nothing.  Maybe though she would now meet Penny, her heart raced.  The van's
endless journey had been broken an hour ago only by what felt like another
silently squirming carpet being dumped alongside her own. Perhaps it was Penny? 
	Finally, after another hour or so the noisy engine fell silent, doors
banged open and she felt herself lifted by a pungently sweating body and carried
some distance into a building to be dumped like a lump of meat onto a hard
floor.  Then fragile hands like fluttering butterflies eased her cramped body
from the hot confinement of the carpet. To her surprise they belonged to a
delicate flower of a young Chinese girl.  She fluttered and twittered,
apologising.
	"Oh so, sorry, it must be terrible for you both.  Why they bring new
people like this I don't know.  All this security."
	Rosemary silently agreed, her parched mouth bulging around her gag
unable to make any coherent response.  But her eyes, blinking in the sudden
light, took in a second Chinese girl easing a beautiful, slightly-olive-skinned
girl with shoulder length brown hair from the other carpet.  Her heart sank, her
fellow passenger, like herself as naked as a baby, was not Penny.
	They were in a large cool office containing word-processors, cabinets
and various items of office equipment.
	"We expect you for little while now," continued the sing-song high
pitched Oriental voice. "I untie legs, then not so bad now eh?"
	"Ah." Rosemary and her companion gasped in pain as cramped muscles again
took their weight.  Although their wrists remained bound the two Chinese girls
supported their shoulders, guiding them limping and wincing around the room
until their circulation began to return.
	"Sorry, we no allowed untie properly yet until boss see you," the girls
apologised, "we all have to obey orders. Soon we get nasty gags out and give you
little drink."
	Rosemary was grateful to the tiny girl who gently massaged some feeling
back into her tingling legs until finally she could once again stand
unsupported, albeit unsteadily. 
	She saw her pretty companion wince as she too had life rubbed back into
her limbs.  The other bound girl was probably slightly younger than herself and
Rosemary found herself staring almost hypnotized at her small, red-nippled,
breasts bouncing erotically as the Chinese girl vigorously rubbed her thighs. 
The yellow hands moved almost sensuously over the well-toned olive flesh.  They
pushed up, maybe unnecessarily high and thoroughly, into the soft triangular
down at the enticing apex to the slender thighs, making her companion struggle
uselessly.  But she was powerless to prevent those small hands roving at will.
	Rosemary too was unable to prevent herself squirming a little as the
slim fingers glided over her, now squeezing and kneading her aching buttocks in
a not unpleasant way, sending tingles into her.  Her thoughts strayed again to
Penny.  Had she too been brought here a few weeks ago?  Was she maybe nearby,
still within this place?
	"I explain situation before removing gags," the Chinese girl resumed.
"You both here in international training camp, a love camp.  It teach people
from many countries ways of new trade.  You then entertain rich men and women
living in or visiting this country.  Camp originally built over here,  funded by
our Chinese Government to serve another purpose.  Then cold war end, but several
of my country-people still here, married to locals, a little Chinese community
in nearby village.  But beware, they not so easy-going as me."
	The brown-haired girl moaned under her gag and both bound women looked
at each other for support in confused wide-eyed apprehension before the Chinese
continued her introduction.
	"Don't forget you all here to serve sentences because you do bad things,
but in many ways this better than prison.  If you please, you might earn money
after sentence complete."
	"Gragghhh," the captives spluttered. However, the Chinese ignored the
womens' muffled protests through the gags.
	"You here for few weeks or months training, as an alternative to prison. 
You learn self-discipline and obedience, how to properly satisfy gentlemen and
ladies.  When they think you ready, you go on parole to owners in community -
they keep you till your sentences served.  Sometimes girls then choose stay on -
get paid to entertain, can get good money.   People come to camp, observe
prisoners training, maybe decide whether they take them on parole.  Mostly women
trained here, but some men too.
	"Pleeeeshh," Rosemary's companion implored through her gag.
	"No keep protesting, it forbidden here, you bad girls. Learn discipline
or get punished," the Chinese lightly smacked her shapely bottom making her
squirm indignantly. "You do all you told pretty damn quick. They discipline like
prison - but pleasure too, they call you 'Love Angels.' They give short white
dresses to wear here, very pretty, make you look like angels.  You always call
attendants 'Sir' or 'Miss,' and never tell anyone real name, they give new name
here, always use it.   Hidden cameras and microphones, know everything you do. 
Just do everything told, straight away, train quick, be good angels then
released on parole to one of the rich families here, then maybe things not so
bad."
	Rosemary's shoulders slumped in despair.  Instead of finding herself in
something like a brothel with Penny, she was in fact still no nearer to finding
her sister.  If newcomers passed through this camp within a few weeks Penny
might by now have completed her 'training,' and have been sent to some rich
bastard's house.  It was indeed nothing more than white slavery, she decided. 
And she couldn't ask anyone about her sister because they probably wouldn't even
know her name!  Resigned, she realised that she would simply have to endure this
place, hope she got through it as quickly as possible, until she could catch up
with her sister!
	Rosemary savoured the wine-sweet water from the plastic beaker the
Chinese girl held to her grateful mouth.  The smelly rag which had gagged her
for the last several hours was a soggy ball at her feet but her mouth still
stung from the brisk removal of the tape which had held it firmly in place.
	She was wondering when her wrists would be released when the door
crashed open.  Instinctively she sucked in her breath as a huge black
man-mountain, with handsome, chiselled and maybe slightly Oriental, features,
strolled in.   He was elegantly attired in a white suit, pink tie and carrying a
parasol; and aged somewhere she guessed in his thirties.  His fine clothing
contrasted with her complete nudity.  Blushing profusely, she longed for her
wrists to be untied, to cover herself from his frank appraisal.
	He held her startled gaze with a pair of narrow yet not unfriendly eyes,
seemingly out of place in such circumstances.  For a moment Rosemary thought she
saw a flash of something there.  Was it perhaps, concern for her or even
admiration?  It was gone in a second and Rosemary would never know.  Then her
gaze flitted like a frightened squirrel to the others who had entered with him.  	
In attendance was a Negress who looked to be in her early twenties.  She had a
large muscular body, like a gladiator, and an almost angular face beneath short
tight black curly hair.  In contrast, she looked cruel and spiteful, her eyes
flashing disdainfully at them.  Beside the pair were two similarly muscular Arab
lads in green fatigues in their late teens standing respectfully to one side. 
She recognised one as the car's chauffeur, Mr Garth.     
	If her hands had been free Rosemary would have covered her shivering
nudity which contrasted so starkly with the elegant fully dressed figures.  She
mentally squirmed as the four pairs of eyes casually examined her exposed body,
yet she found it strangely and perversely exciting to be so helplessly at their
whim.  A contrast to her accustomed position of control back in her normal life.
	The Negro tried to keep his feelings hidden when he met new girls but it
was difficult in this case.  The English blonde was exceeding beautiful and her
face, although frightened and flushed, held a certain determined quality; his
loins tightened.  He didn't know her precise crime, those details were left to
his underlings and agents, but he understood it was something to do with a
broken contract and entering the country under a false name.  Such a fine
creature could not be a hardened criminal, he surmised, and he was almost
tempted to make her his own when her sentence was up and they had made their
money from her.  
  	The brown-haired girl next to her, also ineffectively trying to turn her
body away from his stare, was good too.  The sight of the Chinese girls holding
the prisoners, their arms draped around the bound girls, holding and touching
their curves with utter possession, made his loins stir.  It was a succulent
white feast spread before him. 
	He made a circling movement with his hands and the captive women were
slowly turned around to present an equally delectable rear view.  The Chinese
girls even lifted the bound hands so that they concealed nothing from the
sensuous arched dip of the spines to the swelling hour-glass promise of the
shapely buttocks.  He imagined his hands holding those magnificent globes,
fingers delving between them to probe the tight heat of their bottoms whilst he
pumped into the silken depths.  Soon he hoped, he wouldn't have to rely just on
imagination!
	When the blonde was again facing him he moved closer, the hard erect
buds of her nipples were practically brushing his rock-like chest.  Gooseflesh
sprung out on her shivering body and, flushing a deeper hue, she stared at her
bare feet. He lifted her chin so that she had to look at him, her eyes anxious
and wide.  Her skin was soft and smooth, and he could feel her rapid breath
fluttering warmly against his hand.  Over the pulse of her slim throat his
fingers brushed downwards, cupping the magnificent breasts, gently thumbing the
red buds to an even greater hardness, feeling her push slightly against him. 
Her lips parted in a silent moan, maybe of frustration, her pupils too were
enlarged with desire when his hands finally left her and he stood back.
	"I am Mr Sampson.  Welcome to my 'Camp Love;' a camp of angels - you are
now my angels.  I believe my colleagues have outlined this as an alternative to
prison, but I hope your stays will be ... enjoyable ladies.  Of course you will
let me know if you have any problems."
	"P-please," stammered the other girl with a trace of an Italian accent,
'there has been a mistake, I shouldn't be here.  My name is Lindsey Wand, I-I
was only a little disrespectful to a policeman who arrested me for drunkenness
after a celebration in the restaurant where I work in the capital, Mahon.  I was
offered this as an-an alternative parole but no one told me ..."
	"I shouldn't be here either," joined in Rosemary to support Lindsey,
maybe preventing her getting into trouble, also as a cover to give what she
guessed to be plausible reaction by a new recruit. "I come from England and,
signed a contract with the Lavery entertainment company, my name is..."
	"Quite, quite ladies," interrupted the Negro with a deep sigh, raising
his hands, before the Negress beside him did. "Miss Mitzie here will I am sure,
look into these things as necessary.  I now have other matters to attend to," he
spoke over his shoulder as he left with one of the Arab guards. "I'll leave you
in her capable hands."
	Rosemary was soon enough to realise that no-one would ever-ever wish to
be left in Mitzie's hands!
	Crack, crack!
    	The Negress lashed out with a hand as hard as a plank to deliver two
stinging, teeth-rattling slaps, forehand and backhand, to each of the two
startled women.  With their pinioned arms held firmly by the Chinese girls they
could only gasp, absorbing the stinging shock and pain, their ears singing
wildly.  Tears began to trickle down over the two red hand-prints splayed across
the whiteness of their quivering cheeks more used to the gentle touch of make-up
and skin creams than a harsh slap.
	"How dare you white cows ever f---ing speak to Mr Sampson, or indeed any
staff member without prior permission and without addressing him correctly,"
Mitzie spat at the two with acid venom.  "I can see you two have a lot to learn
about your new status... and we are going to start right now."
	The two wide-eyed women dejectedly sniffed back further tears, their
spirits sinking, realising their terrible predicament, regretting the actions
which had put them here.
	"You both broke the law. One assaulted a policeman and the other entered
the country under false pretences.  You will now, my little pets, learn the
folly of your ways.  But after training and discipline to knock any rebellious
stupidity out of you, you will indeed both be entertainers. You will provide
visual entertainment to those who pay to visit the camp as guests; and later
offer a more intimate entertainment to whoever takes you into their personal
custody on parole.  For the duration of your sentences you are ours. 
Call-girls, prostitutes, whatever you choose to call yourselves,  you are to all
intents and purposes both now slaves, effectively owned by others; nothing more. 
We have arrest warrants to prove it, and there is also the small print on the
Lavery contract.  It's all above board in this country I can assure you, and
possibly preferable to a minimum two years in the normal prison rat-holes they
use for foreigners in this country."
	"Please," Lindsey whispered, "we ... ."
	"Silence!" roared Miss Mitzie, her bellowing tone making both women
flinch. She ignored their sniffing sobs as she continued her speech of welcome.
"In theory you may go when your sentences are up but in practice that does not
always happen," she added ominously. 'We will have spent a considerable time in
training you to your new trade which does not come cheap.  But there is also
money to be made by yourselves afterwards, put your skills to good use eh."
	The soft chiselled cheeks of the captives were both still smarting but
at least the Chinese girls, who it seemed were the office staff, then obeyed
Mitzie's order to cut the plastic twines which bound their hands behind them. 
Rosemary thankfully regained the use of her arms, rubbing life back into her
throbbing, numb flesh.  Instinctively she arched her back to relieve the aching
strain of her posture before realising how it thrust her bare breasts into the
gloating, smirking eyes of the Negress and the  young Arab guard, Garth.
	"Now we'll start training, knock all nonsense out of your white hides -
knock you into f---ing shape," Mitzie declared.
	"Tenshun!" she suddenly barked into their wide, blinking eyes. "Backs
straight, tits out, bellies in, arms by your sides, eyes front, no moving, no
talking.  I want to see two silent statues.  You certainly do not cover
yourselves, you display here.  Anyway, you two haven't got anything special,"
she lied,  "certainly nothing we haven't all seen before," she added perhaps
more truthfully. "Stick those tits right out, point them at me as if you want me
to feel them, make me want to suck them."
	Mitzie allowed no sign of her excitement or amusement near her stern
face as the two women shyly assumed the required, but obviously so unnatural to
them, positions, with a few guiding prods from herself.  Then she studied two
dossiers handed her by the Chinese girls, occasionally looking deliberately,
scornfully up into the tense, yet pretty faces.  Sometimes she would read out
loud some detail about their previous lives which she found amusing, the
memories making the women blink with emotion - contrasting with their present
predicament - before she continued to read silently to herself, taking her time.  
	The files contained details and also photographs of the new prisoners
who stood before her in their beautiful flesh.  She had no particular feelings
about them, it was simply her job to break them down and knock them into shape,
to make them instantly obedient and compliant ready to receive the instructions
in how to please Lavery's well-heeled customers.  However, no one could deny
their beauty trembling before her. Their breasts, now obediently thrust forward
to attention, bounced with their heavy breathing.  Impishly she circled all four
delightful red buds, feeling them swell under her skilful manipulations, sensing
their wish to brush her intrusive hands away - but not daring to.
	"Now hands on head, lace your fingers behind your neck, don't move 'em.  
Legs apart - wider - wider," she insisted as they reluctantly shuffled their
feet wide apart, now blatantly wide, the oyster-like lips of their sexes just
visible below their downy triangles. "That's good; that's what I expect every
time," she nodded.
	"Huh!" The grunt was torn from Rosemary as one of Mitzie's large black
hands unexpectedly pressed upwards into her soft portals, making her jump back
in shock.
	Crack! 
	The other hand immediately delivered another vicious slap, making the
blonde press a hand to the new imprint on her cheek over which a fresh tear was
rolling.
	"Back in position, cow, you do not move when you are graced with such a
touch, you are here to be touched - and to touch," she snapped, pulling
Rosemary's arms back to her head, lightly tapping the trembling thighs until
they were again sufficiently wide.
	Holding her victim's fearful, wide green eyes with her own glinting jets
of cruelty she slowly, deliberately again raised her palm into the soft portals
of love, open in unwanted invitation.  Her black fingers extended, they furrowed
like chocolate flakes against the white, fluttering skin.  The blonde's sex felt
delicious, a few stray strands of fur tickling as she pressed upwards, feeling
the delicate, inverted valley under its silken folds.  She also felt the moist
heat.  Her eyes opened wider, quizzically as Rosemary's fluttered downwards with
shame.
	"You maybe enjoy a woman's touch?" she declared. "I hope so, that will
assist your training to be useful to either sex, meaning less effort for us and
less unpleasantness for you."
	Lindsey received similar attentions, her eyes, Like Rosemary's staring
bleakly ahead, although she too was unable to deny the effect on her body.  Her
hips jerked imperceptibly under the exploration and her tiny pink tongue briefly
circling her generous lips. 
	Ignoring the now heavy breathing of her victims, Mitzie ceased her
skilful attentions and resumed reading the dossiers.  She drank deeply from a
bottle of lager which, with their rich, Western, backgrounds, she was sure they
would have loved to share with her.  They would, however, soon become accustomed
to pure water.   
	Mitzie had a well-paid job and did it extremely well.  Probably her
upbringing in the tough slum streets of the North African town where she was
born nearly thirty years ago helped.  One had to be tough to survive and she
took a pride in her toughness and somewhat despised the inherent weakness of the
inmates of the camp.  Whatever the fragile reasons for them breaking the law
their main offence was in getting caught and into the positions in which they
now found themselves.  Still, she thought, even if they didn't arrive tough,
they would certainly leave as very different people.   Their re-christening
under the 'Boy Named Sue' principle helped she thought.
	"Your name is now 'Trixie', " she finally announced to Rosemary, and you
are now Dixie," she told Lindsey.  She smiled at the normal effect of such a
loss of identity on a new prisoner, seeing the dark-haired beauty sniffing back
a tear. "Any use of your previous name will be dealt with severely;  you will
lose skin off your shapely backsides if you forget," she announced, lightly
patting the presently deliciously smooth  hindquarters of each rigid figure. 
	"Now - now, sweetheart no tears," she purred like a monstrous mother,
her powerful black arms encircling Lindsey's trembling white shoulders, easing
her sobs as she slumped from her rigid position.  Mitzie  shivered in delighted
contentment as the deliciously soft breasts against hers, shaking gently with
her emotion.  Her hands slid down the sensuous bare curve of the Italian girl's
spine, gently patting her firm bottom.  Seemingly unconsciously, Lindsey pressed
herself against Mitzie's muscled body, appearing to draw some comfort from the
strong arms enfolding her.
	Rosemary still stood as positioned her hands clenching on her neck,
feeling almost jealous of the attention given to Lindsey.  What was she becoming
she wondered?  Here she was, a respectable married Englishwoman surely somehow
superior she thought to the average foreigner, yet standing completely naked
amongst foreign strangers.  All and sundry could view her body and she had to
let them. 
	Why though she wondered did such thoughts cause a ripple of wicked
pleasure down her spine?  Was she was almost missing the touch of the black
hands which now held and soothed her companion's sobbing shoulders.  Perhaps
deep down she really wanted those thick black sensuous lips to tease her own as
they were now doing to Lindsey, or for the muscled thighs to press against her,
the knee easing against her downy portals?   There was no doubting the expertise
of these people to give pleasure she thought.  That was their job - to teach  -
and her temporary purpose in life to learn she  guessed!   
	However, as Miss Mitzie slowly eased Lindsey away, so her demeanour also
changed to one more businesslike again.  Both girls stood side by side once
more, Lindsey again in identical posture to herself, the bare flesh of each,
trembling delicately. 
	"Fetch Miss Wang," Mitzie instructed one of the Chinese girls, "I'm
afraid these two infringed rules by speaking out of turn to Mr Sampson, and Miss
Wang always enjoys the initial welcome discipline for new angels."  
	Somehow Rosemary knew that events might now be taking a turn for the
worse and, despite the strange feelings of excitement at this adventure she also
hoped it would not be too long before she located Penny and could summon help. 


						CHAPTER 3

	

	The Chinese girl was beautiful yet diminutive, with jet-black hair. 
Rosemary and Lindsey were alone with her apart from the guard, Mr Garth.  She
stood hands on hips arrogantly before them in a black leather cat-suit, her
pretty faced twisted into a frown.  Despite being a teenager her demeanour was
that of a ferocious sergeant major.
	"So, you are Trixie," her frown turned to a cruel, twisted grin as she
regarded Rosemary.  "I am Miss Wang;  you may regret being born.   All orders
given here by your superiors such as me will be obeyed instantly," she snapped
then paused, almost inviting ant dissent. There was none.  Her tiny eyes
glinted. "And you most certainly no speak without permission.  I gather you both
already commit such a violation - and to Mr Sampson - which require punishment."
	Apprehensively, they stood before the she-devil.  They had still been
allowed no clothes and had to keep their hands vulnerably placed on their heads. 
Their two pairs of breasts, uplifted with their posture and elegantly adorned
with their tight red buttons, pointed almost invitingly at their tormentor.  The
Chinese girl seemed to take an obsessive interest in Rosemary; there was almost
a sense of jealousy in her manner as she peered at the blonde's superb curves.
	Rosemary had difficulty tearing her eyes from the whip hooked into Miss
Wang's belt.  It had a shiny wooden handle from which half a dozen thin black
thongs emerged. Each one was no more than 18 inches long but was knotted at
regular intervals.  Both women shivered in dread imagining those vicious flails
scouring their bare flesh. Almost incongruously, the handle carried a neat
inscription in thin golden letters:

	"To my beloved teacher, Miss Wang    
	Thank You,
			Pixy"

	Some poor predecessor of theirs had obviously tried to suck up to her
tormentor.  Or maybe the woman was not as bad her first appearances? 
	"You now like raw recruits at army 'boot' camp," Miss Wang continued,
resting casually on a table one leg hooked over the other - in total contrast to
her rigid victims. "Regime here physically demanding - knock out the old lazy
capitalist ways, instill new outlook and pride in yourselves.  Perhaps more
importantly you be taught how best please your eventual clients.  Everyone is
'Sir' or 'Miss' to you and you never tell your real names.  Punishments for any
infringements of rules include corporal punishment," Miss Wang explained with an
evil gleam in her bright eyes. 
	Rosemary felt hatred simmering for the bitchy little Chinese 'miss,' so
obviously relishing her position over them.  However, was there not also, she
wondered, a sense of pride?  Although the youngster was attractive, Rosemary
knew with wicked satisfaction that Miss Wang wasn't as beautiful as herself. 
The extrovert surfaced within her as she inched her shoulders back a little
more. 
	She couldn't help recalling an incident with a Chinese girl several
years ago in the management company she ran before marrying Damien.  Then it had
been she who held the power.  It was with some considerable shame that she
occasionally recollected on how badly she had treated the girl, her icy sarcasm,
destroying the delicate creature's composure for a simple error.  Then
dismissing her.  It had certainly not been all deserved.  She had called the
girl into her office for a dressing down, having her stand awkwardly, before her
desk, shifting from one foot to the other as she reclined in her swivel chair. 
But she had, she knew deep inside, enjoyed that power.  Just as Miss Wang
obviously did now, the roles more than totally reversed.  Rosemary stood stiffly
before the youngster, a pawn at her mercy - apart from the secret concealed in
her mouth!
	"Right you lazy Western cows, I make you sweat and I want see those fat
arses swing as I instil discipline."
	Miss Wang was a young she-devil consisting of a wide screaming mouth
delivering obscenities through gleaming white teeth and a spray of spittle.  The
monogrammed crop instinctively and knowledgeably sought out the most tender
parts of an anatomy in the pursuit and eradication of any errors, slacking or
lapses.  She initially drilled the women in the required form of marching in
order that they could make their way to the punishment room in the correct
fashion.
	The tanned handsome face of the young Arab, Garth, twitched into an
appreciative grin as the two newcomers were put through their paces.  His openly
appraising eyes and low whistles added to the shame of the women. Within a short
period, however, both were both marching in a fairly orderly manner, this was
the stimulus of pain;  no matter that they looked rather out of place.  They
were more used to being pampered by men, wining, dining and dancing, working in
an office or keeping house.  Now they marched in step, backs ramrod straight,
swinging stiff arms, bringing knees to the horizontal as they went.   
	  Both were sophisticated Western women a couple of years older than
Garth.  He licked his lips, a further tightening of his manhood becoming quite
evident as their lush bodies paraded before him.  Their long hair lifted,
flowing and bouncing from smooth white shoulders, contrasting with their pretty,
red flushed faces.  Beautiful buttocks jiggled with the military-style
movements, clenching whenever another thin red line of torment was added by Miss
Wang's crop, accompanied as always by a gasp from a gaping mouth desperately
trying to suck in air for the exertions. 
	"That no hurt - real hurt come later to break in," Miss Wang would snap
if they made too much fuss. 
	However, its attentions served to enforce Wang's iron will and instill
discipline.  The straight backs and square shoulder posture also further
emphasised the beauty of the two pairs of breasts,  tipped by hard red berries,
bouncing before Garth's eyes.  The two shapely bodies were soon covered in a
thin sheen of perspiration from their exertions and his eyes narrowed in the
desire of youth. 
	"Maybe I sample these lush fruits," he smirked.
	Suddenly, before she could react, he reached out to hold Rosemary's
bouncing bosoms as she marched on the spot before him, arms raised stiffly above
her head.  His mouth closed over hers in a stolen, impish, kiss.
	"Hold position, cow," Miss Wang snapped, raising her crop threateningly
as she squirmed.
	Her face flushed with effort and shame, Rosemary continued marching,
secretly relishing the touch of his lips and her nipples brushing his uniform
with her movements. However, any possible mood was destroyed when he broke away
and Miss Wang joined in his laughter, the two youngsters enjoying their power
over their captives.  
	Finally, Wang was seemingly satisfied.  She was behind the two panting
women, who stood rigidly to attention side by side.  She too now cupped their
heaving breasts.  Their flesh was smooth, the nipples firming even harder under
the almost gentle manipulations of her thumbs.   Such was their awe of her and
the regime in which they found themselves that they now barely flinched.  Then,
led by Garth, with Miss Wang in the rear, Rosemary and Lindsey marched through
numerous corridors to a gymnasium, the crop flicking their undulating bottoms if
they slackened.  In addition to the normal wall-bars, weights etc the gymnasium
also contained an array of whips, pulleys and chains.  The ingrained smell of
sweat was mingled with fear. 

			------------------------------------

	Rosemary knew that the apprehension in the Italian girl's eyes was
similarly reflected in her own.  She had never been whipped in her life but Miss
Wang had made each of them stand rigidly to attention again and confirmed that
they were to be punished for insulting Mr Sampson.  It was a nightmare whirlwind
of pressure trying to assimilate a sudden whole new status and way of life. She
guessed correctly that no matter what they did, each new entrant would receive a
similar, painful introduction to the camp, one that would serve as a constant
reminder and lesson.
	Firstly they were marched to a row of toilet cubicles at the rear of the
gym.  They had no doors and the walls were only a metre high.  Miss Wang invited
both women, before the audience of the Arab youth and herself, to perform any
necessary bodily functions before their punishment commenced!   Although such an
action would before now have been unthinkable, they were now, aided by fear,
able to oblige.  Lowered, crimson faces shielded by hands and hair, Rosemary and
Lindsey performed as quietly as possible into the spotless white toilet bowels,
before the amused eyes of their tormentors.             	Then, Garth took
her shaking arm and led her away.  He bound her over a vaulting horse, her
wrists fastened to the widely spaced wooden legs on one side and her ankles to
those on the opposite side.  Her legs were thus immodestly wide apart revealing
her velvet intimacies nestling between and below buttocks tightly rounded and
upthrust by virtue of a cushion having been pushed under her belly.  	With the
wide spacing of the vaulting horse's legs, and Rosemary's wrists and ankles
being fixed securely to their extremities,  her body was pulled to full stretch
thus making it impossible to move her limbs.  Totally helpless, she only had
freedom to raise her head from its inverted position, shaking it to clear the
cascade of golden hair to look into Lindsey's wide frightened eyes, identically
fastened facing her, scant inches away, almost nose to nose.   
	Rosemary saw Garth positioning himself behind Lindsey's (Dixie - she
corrected herself mentally) parted buttocks.  With fearful dismay she saw the
numerous vicious knotted leather things which trailed from the well-worn wooden
handle of the purposeful whip.  After measuring his intended stroke it appeared
from the startled look in the girl's eyes that he had simply patted her bottom.
Then he raised his powerful arm and brought it down in a long arc onto her
stretched skin.  Rosemary lowered her head and closed her eyes as his arm
descended, unable to look any longer into the soft brown eyes inches from her
own as they blinked madly in terrible anticipation.    
	Swish, crack!
	"Argghhh!"
	Rosemary couldn't insulate herself from the Italian's high pitched whine
of agony as the numerous thongs of leather bit into her softness.  The pitiful
sound made her jump with its heart-rending intensity and she once again opened
her eyes to Lindsey's gaping mouth, drawn back to reveal white teeth, her eyes
screwed tight shut, the tendons standing out in stark relief in her neck.  Now
her mouth closed and the tortured girl drew in a hissing breath between clenched
teeth, shuddering as she tried to absorb the pain she was most obviously
feeling.
	To her horror, Rosemary saw the young Arab leave his position and
casually begin heading towards her.  He left her line of vision but she heard
his footfalls behind her.  Her heart began racing, she had imagined that she had
a few more minutes before her ordeal began but it seemed that their punishments
would be interspersed simultaneously.
	Garth waited expectantly, eyeing the exposed, straining flesh before
him.  Rosemary's pink tongue flicked over dry lips as she saw Miss Wang,
standing to one side with folded arms, an amused smile on her face, nod to him. 
She heard the rustle of cloth as he raised his arm, her muscles involuntarily
tensing.  Then she jumped at the light pat of his large hand on her trembling
flesh, briefly feeling it's texture, gauging the distance of his stroke.  As he
patted, his long index finger drifted between the cheeks of her bottom, into the
cool dark cleft and brushed over the puckered ring, which involuntarily
tightened under the unexpected touch.  Her shoulders bunched, toes curled fists
clenched whitely and she was aware of the cheeks of her bottom clenching and
unclenching with dread.   
	Whoosh, crack!
	Preceded by a faint whistle and swish Rosemary's world exploded into
jarring, searing agony.  Nothing could have prepared her for the burning pain
eating into the hollowed curve of her lower back and upper buttocks.  Raw flames
engulfed her body and her skin felt as if it was stretched too tightly over her
frame, sliced by white hot cheese-wires.   She pulled mightily, the muscles
standing out like knots in her arms, desperately wanting to wrench her hands
free and crush them soothingly to her bottom to ease the burning pain.  However,
there was not an inch of give in the harsh unyielding ropes which bound her
tightly to the horse.  Someone was screaming and, with a shock of suddenly sore
vocal chords, Rosemary realised it was her.  She closed her wide, aching, jaws,
breath whistling past her clenched teeth as she tried to absorb the excruciating
agony burning into her.  Sagging as far as her tight bonds would permit and with
sweat beading on her body, panting, Rosemary blinked back salty tears. 
	Now Garth was, just as casually, strolling back to his position behind
Lindsey.  Rosemary sobbed, wondering how someone so outwardly handsome and full
of mischief, someone who had impertinently stolen that kiss could now inflict
such pain with any obvious qualms?  She had entered a whole new world here she
realised.
	Time lost its normal meaning as the leather thongs descended over taut
white flesh.  For Rosemary it was measured only by the varying intensity of what
felt like red-hot wire wires eating into her buttocks and back, and the length
of her screams. 
	Gradually, she became aware of a lessening of pain and her tear-brimmed
eyes focused to Miss Wang standing directly before her.  The girl stooped to
grip her jerking her head up till she met the amused eyes of the young vixen.
	"Like any more Trixie?" the Oriental was so calm and composed compared
to herself.
	"No ... please ... Miss," Rosemary remembered to be respectful.  She had
to be, no way could she endure any more.
	"Quite sure, we can continue if you're not sure if you'll behave in
future."
	"Please, no, I'll behave Miss, please, I will," she grovelled
desperately, her wide eyes imploring those of her tormentor.
	"Very, well, your initial punishment now completed ladies," Miss Wang
smiled coldly.  They could sense her excitement at the power she had over them.      	
Rosemary wept with gratitude.  She only knew that when she heard, through her
tears and sea of red pain, Miss Wang making that announcement that she could
have kissed her. Neither woman could disguise their obvious, weeping gratitude
that she had 'kindly' decided to end their pain. 
	"Mr Garth now settle you into your quarters and ease stinging. However,
please don't forget, this treatment can be repeated just as often as required,"
the girl emphasised.  "And it will be whenever a trainee is disobedient.  You
read and memorise list of rules whilst you recover.  You find that you heal fast
here with our special treatments and you be ready to begin full day's training
tomorrow."
	Both women sobbed not only with relief at the end of their punishment
but also disbelief that such an ordeal could ever be repeated - resolving never
to put themselves in a position to ever earn it again. 
	They had no way of knowing that in terms of severity, Garth had applied
fairly light strokes scarcely breaking the skin.  However, it was the contrast
with their lack of previous experience of such treatment, which had its effect
and, literally, made its mark.  They were also not aware that as their beauty
and bodies were the reason for them being here it would be extremely unlikely
that they would again suffer the whip.  Indeed, the experience and threat of it
were normally sufficient to ensure that it wasn't necessary.
     



    

					CHAPTER 4                    
 
 
   Rosemary was in heaven so great was the contrast from the hell she had
previously suffered.  After Miss Wang had left, Garth, in total contrast to his
recent ferocity, gently released her bonds.  His strong arms had effortlessly
picked her up, causing her to wince afresh as her agonised flesh bent and
stretched with every touch and movement. 
	Almost a different person, rather than the one who had inflicted her
suffering, he placed delicate, tender hands under her knees and around her
shaking shoulders, nuzzling her ears and kissing the tears from her wet eyes. 
She snuggled up to him like a chastised child whilst he had carried her into a
long adjoining room to the gym.  It contained numerous metal, coffin-like
containers and he laid her gently face down on the lattice mattress within
standing with its lid open.  Each 'coffin' had a name on it, and Rosemary's was
inscribed,  'Trixie.'   
 	She obeyed his command to lay still whilst he fetched Lindsey.  In her
present state, faint of mind and striped, throbbing body, she was in no position
to move anywhere.  It felt as if a sea of flames was constantly washing over her
lower back, buttocks and upper thighs as if sunburnt.  However, she also
experienced a secret tingle of raw excitement.  Naked, helpless, rarely had she
felt so utterly under someone else's control; and the brute was strong and good
looking.  Angrily, she shook her head banishing such disgraceful thoughts.  The
bastard had just whipped her - just as a lesson in obedience!
	A low moaning heralded the arrival of Lindsey being carried in a similar
tender fashion to herself.  The large brown hands holding the beautiful Italian
girl's bottom, cradling her sobbing shoulders, gave her an illogical and
involuntarily pang of jealousy.  Then she mentally winced at the painful red
lines running over the girl's back and buttocks, making her own flesh twitch in
sympathy.
	 The container on which he placed Dixie several down from her own was
also inscribed with her new name in pretty pink letters!  After settling her
face down the Arab left her and advanced again on Rosemary, this time with some
large china pots from which sweet smelling fragrances wafted.
	"I make pretty lady feel better now.  It hurt a bit at first but
gradually it take pain away and lamps inside your box will heal you quick.  The
lid will be locked for the night but you push bell-button inside if you need to
get out.  I don't recommend you doing so though," he warned. "Miss Mitzie or
Miss Wang likely to get real mean."
	"Yarrgghhh."
     Rosemary yelped as, without preamble, he scooped out a handful of cool balm
and slapped it onto the battleground of volcanic flesh that was her bottom.  The
cool cream against the red throbbing heat was initially agonizing but the Arab's
soothing hands gently kneaded it into her.  He pushed and delved into her every
nook and cranny, gently easing her thighs further apart, working it deeply into
her, sparing her no blushes.  Contentedly, shamefully she was drifting into a
dream-like state filled with warm  sexual feelings.  Slowly her pain ebbed as
her hips wriggled involuntarily and she slightly raised them. 
	Knowledgeably the tips of his fingers brushed the fur fringed
oyster-like lips of her sex, circling, delving slightly.  Her thighs parted as
his fingers pushed deeper into the soft velvet heat which gripped both fingers
he used explore her. They disappeared up to the knuckle in the mauve delights of
her liquidity.
	She could feel the Arab's large thumb within her, filling, stretching,
rubbing and stroking, a finger pushing ahead and gently rubbing her now swollen
clitoris with small circular movements. 
	"Mmm, huh, huh," she sighed, eyes closing, licking dry lips as he played
delicious tunes with her femininity.
	The agony of the lash had already heightened her senses so that before
she knew it, the sweet ecstasy of an orgasm was blowing through her like a warm
tide.  Fists clenched around the mattress she jerked her moist, eager sex under
the all-knowing digits, gripping him, sighing when he slowly withdrew and patted
her bottom with sticky fingers.  Then, with a gasping shudder, she drifted to a
drowsy state, scarcely aware of the whirr of an electric motor lowering her
mattress down into the box and the lid closing over her head with a solid clunk. 
Vaguely aware of a soothing heat enveloping her ravaged flesh, she fell into a
sleep.  Her slumber was filled with a contrasting mixture of women, Chinese and
Negro screaming at her, and then her shivering nudity was being protected by the
young Arab hulk, his hands playing with her shivering body.  
     
				TO BE CONTINUED

		THE SEARCHER  /  CAMP OF ANGELS - PART 3




                         CHAPTER 5

	
	Something was disturbing Rosemary's sleep, it was a nightmare she
surmised.  Hot wires were eating her stretched writhing flesh alive and foreign
voices were shouting at her, ordering her to do things.  Suddenly recollections
came flooding back and she knew this was not all a dream but a far worse
reality, that light was streaming into the womb-like seclusion of her box and
that harsh voices were indeed ordering her up. 
	She winced automatically expecting pain from her beating of the day
before but there was nothing and as she clambered off the now raised mattress
onto the cold floor she realised that her body had miraculously regained its
precious smooth, cream-like texture without any marks or weals!
	"Up, up and out.  Out, out into the gym and 'ten-shun," an Oriental
voice repeatedly screamed.
 	Automatically, such was the learning power of events yesterday, Rosemary
found herself standing rigidly to attention alongside over nearly thirty other
naked bodies formed into two rows.  To her surprise, amongst the female beauty
were two nude men.   To one side, she recognised the giant Arab, Garth, who had
so cruelly whipped her the day before, and then so deliciously and intimately
used his fingers.  Beside him stood a short Chinese man, about 5ft tall.  His
thick-set neck protruded from a sweat- stained khaki shirt partially open to
reveal rolls of quivering fat. 
	"Western prisoners form two lines facing each other space yourselves a
metre apart, backs straight no slouching, Miss Mitzie inspect soon," the Chinese
brute shouted.  He swished a cane through the air to emphasise his orders until
there were two neat lines of naked rigid bodies.
	They remained immobile as the minutes slowly ticked by.  Rosemary cast
brief and careful glances at some of her fellow inmates, all were beautiful and
mostly she guessed in their late teens or twenties.  There were however, a few
exceptions.  The eldest was a fragile-looking woman with fine chiselled features
and long dark hair.  She was a beauty of about forty but her nude body carried
no fat.  Another woman, slightly younger, whose brown hair was pulled up into a
bun, wore large round glasses.  It was to this latter woman that the Chinese
guard strolled.
	"You been told about wearing glasses during parades Loopy," he asked in
passable English.
	"Oh.... yes Sir, s-sorry Sir," the flustered woman stuttered in an
English accent, reaching up to remove her glasses but the fat Chinese man's hand
prevented her, gripping her tiny wrist in a vice-like grip.
	"Western women remain at attention," he snapped, making her resume her
posture, his hands sliding and pushing against her back and stomach till she was
again rigid - although now trembling.
	She nervously licked her lips as he slowly, lovingly, slid the glasses
from her face.  They rested on a small, pretty snub nose and when removed,
revealed large soft brown eyes - wide with apprehension. Almost gently he swung
his arm back but it was travelling quite rapidly when the flat of his hand
slapped her forehand and backhand across the paleness of her face. 
	"Haahh," she gasped as the two red hand-prints sprung out across her
white cheeks, but  remained immobile, her wide eyes trying to focus on her
grinning tormentor.
	He carefully handed back her glasses. 
	"Put these on bed, return here and touch toes please."
	"Please ... ," she implored, but his sharp look cut her short.
	"You once a teacher I believe, I sure you know benefit of discipline,"
he smiled. "Now move," he lightly patted her buttocks, making them clench.
	Needing no second bidding she scurried to and from her coffin-box,
sniffing back tears her breasts and bottom jiggling. Then she was bending over
before the grinning guard.  Her bottom flinched involuntarily as the Chinaman
softly tapped the taut rounded flesh trembling in anticipation. It looked so out
of place to see a naked, elegant woman bending over to touch her toes before
such a slob.
	"Legs straighter," he demanded.
	The smooth curves of her nates tightened and thrust back still further
against his hand as she complied with the orders of her tormentor.  He kept her
in that position, her hair cascading around her face, shivering slightly, for
around thirty seconds before beginning.
	Crack!
	"Argghh," she yelped as the echoes of the slap died away to leave a
broad hand print splayed across one buttock cheek.
	Slap!
	"Ooohh," she wailed, an equally demeaning slap cracking into the
tenderness of her other buttock.
 	"Stand attention again.  Maybe you remember now Western cow?"
	"Y-yes Sir," she whispered, biting back tears.
	Rosemary could imagine a woman's natural shame of being spanked by the
brute being multiplied when publicly singled out.      
	The exceptions to the female majority were the two men standing just as
docile and rigid as the women.  One standing in the line nearly opposite her was
a slim youth probably in his late teens or early twenties with shoulder length
blonde hair and handsome boyish features.  The other was older and had a hairy,
muscular frame.  Both showed obvious appreciation at the array of feminine
beauty surrounding them.
	The two rows of shivering pink bodies took on an added rigidity as the
gladiatorial Miss Mitzie strode energetically into the room with Miss Wang. 
None of those present would forget their first meetings with them on arrival, or
their subsequent thrashing - knowing it could be repeated at her will.
	"Bellies in tits out," Miss Mitzie roared.
	Every figure complied earnestly and immodestly.   Their wide eyes stared
straight ahead, none wishing to meet those of the black demon as she scowled
down their ranks.  Rosemary's natural will and spirit was crushed.  She stood
unnaturally nude before the fully clothed black tigress, guessing that any
potential resistance from the others was being similarly held in check.
	"Good morning angels, she enthused brightly, a grin displaying her array
of flashing white teeth."
	"Good morning Miss Mitzie," the assembly responded as one, Rosemary and
Lindsey taking their lead from the others.
	"You have all had your initial indoctrination in this intake over the
last day or two and, with the arrival our two newcomers here, Trixie and Dixie
the training programme will begin."
	Rosemary cringed back as Miss Mitzie stood right before her strong black
hands reaching towards her soft jutting breasts.
	"Stick em out girl, you don't hide em here - you display them." She
lightly slapped one orb to make it bounce, forcing a gasp from between her
clenched teeth.
	The trembling blonde obediently thrust out her bosoms still further,
looking down apprehensively as the big black hands remorselessly held her
precious love fruit.  Ensnaring their sensitive targets the hands looked like
long thick fingers of chocolate icing on two cherry-topped cakes.
	"Trixie has firm tits boys and girls, don't you Trixie"?
	"Y-yes Miss," Rosemary mumbled, averting her eyes to regard the floor.
	"Bigger than Dixie's."  Relief washed over her as the Negress moved on
to Lindsey and manipulated the Italian girl's breasts with glee. "I might want
to eat these one day, I've always liked dumplings, perhaps just take a few bites
out of them eh?" Her long tongue briefly darted out from her large lips to
tickle each erect pink bud, making the Italian girl shiver.
	Lindsey looked equally as ashamed as Rosemary had felt at being fondled
before all of the others.  The black fingers were again thumbing the red cones
of her nipples to an even tighter hardness.  She guessed correctly that it was
Miss Mitzie's way of exercising and demonstrating her complete control over her
charges.  
	Then the Negress glanced at her Chinese assistant. Miss Wang was
standing before the slim blond youth, holding his manhood in delicate yellow
fingers.
	"This display of tits and bums make you feel frisky Nancy"? the Chinese
girl whispered huskily.
	"Yes Miss," he replied softly, subserviently as his manhood continued to
twitch and grow.
	"Well, where you go you no worry about women, exactly the opposite isn't
it"?
	"Yes Miss," he replied meekly but with a touch of bitterness Rosemary
thought.
	"I see," continued Miss Wang now rubbing her hand over his smooth
hairless chest and sharp erect nipples, allowing his stiff penis to nudge her
body.   "You look all you wish while train here but any more and you lose this
before you go," she laughed, casually slapping his member making him wince,
before moving on.
	"You, Michelle, were a bit naughty when you first arrive but I think we
convince you now that stubbornness and disobedience no be tolerated haven't we?"
She held the penis of the thicker-set man, cupping his testes.
	"Yes Miss," he responded immediately, looking down, obviously hoping
that she wouldn't squeeze his balls.  He breathed deeply with a sigh of relief
when the youngster minced off.
	Miss Mitzie meanwhile was standing behind two other unfortunates.  One
was an older woman, with dark hair, and a other, a young blonde girl, with a
touch of arrogance in her pretty features.  Her delicate pubis was hairless to
reveal every detail of her pouting sex.  The hands of the Negress were stroking
over the rounded curves of each of their bottoms, making the cheeks flinch.
	"You two have quite good upholstery girls," she pronounced smiling
broadly irrespective of the fact that the dark-haired woman was several years
her senior.  Her hands caressed the soft curves of the woman's nates, patting,
making them clench uncontrollably.  "Do you exercise to keep them in trim,
Slapper" she enquired holding the older woman's rounded cheeks, " because you're
no spring chicken are you girl," she continued?
	"Yes Miss, No Miss," the woman replied softly, meekly, trying to answer
both questions, her face bright red.
	"You've had two children I understand, yet hardly any sagging," she
regarded the flat belly and jutting breasts, oblivious to the woman's welling
tears invoked by reminders of her previous life. "Push that arse back towards
me, sit it down on my hand let me really feel it," she demanded, determined to
shame the oldest slave as an example to the others, tapping her cheeks.
	The woman obediently leaned forward then awkwardly thrust and squirmed,
her soft buttocks humiliatingly pushing them into the broad black palm.
	"Aaaghh," the woman's chiselled features broke with disgusted shock as
the fingers delved  within her.
	"Open up a bit, let me get a finger against the old rabbit hole.  Hmm,
hot and furry," she commented crudely after the ashamed woman shifted her legs
apart.  Black fingers probed into both of her orifices, making her wince
uncomfortably, her face crimson with shame. 
	"Mmm, getting hot, you'll enjoy your time here."
	"Your turn now Tinkerbelle, I hope you're happy with the fanny plucking
I gave you last night."
	Biting her lips in an effort to maintain control, the young blonde
flushed a deeper red and gasped as the Negress turned to her, fingering her
smooth sex lips, flicking her bottom.  All the while she kept her other hand
hard against the brunette's buttocks.  A spark of anger seemed to appear
momentarily across the young girl's pretty face as the woman fondled her
shamelessly, but it was immediately suppressed.  The tormentor demanded that the
blonde similarly press her tightly rounded cheeks into her free hand and part
her thighs to show the detailed glory of her pouting sex.
	"Hmm, opposite ends of the scale, young and blonde, old and dark, but
very difficult to tell which is which by touch.  Two nice sets of upholstery,"
she announced, her black fingers disappearing obscenely between the two pairs of
clenching white globes. Then she withdrew her hands, slapping both sets of
cheeks to leave a red splayed handprint against both before moving on.  She had
an eye on the clock now.
	"We've a busy day ahead of us girls and boys so after I've explained a
few details we'd better get to it. Stand still, back to attention."  Miss Mitzie
strutted up and down the lines as she lectured. "As you will already know, you
are here to be trained in the arts of obedience and love to serve your new
employers and owners.   Some will also be used on the land, others just in the
bedroom, so we aim to knock your Western decadence out of you.  To achieve this
and to keep this camp's good name in the trade, the standards are high and the
discipline stringent.  You'll sometimes be divided into groups but,  all
together for other activities.  You already know the rule on addressing your
superiors respectfully, no talking without permission and no use of names.  If
anyone's caught both those speaking and those listening will be punished," she
slapped her crop against her hand for emphasis, making every rigid figure flinch
apprehensively.  	"Punishments are either on the spot or at an evening
parade," she continued, every word etching deeper despair onto each face. "You
find yourselves here in most cases because of your greed, pride, dishonesty, or
stupidity.  "Ultimately many of you also wanted to be entertainers and so you
would no doubt be disappointed if you didn't have the opportunity of putting on
a little show for the staff and guests before you eventually leave with your
temporary mentors.  Over the next few days think about what little routine you
can each perform - everyone will take part."  
	A clanking sound  heralded the arrival of the Chinese office assistants
who had initially greeted Rosemary and Lindsey.  One deposited a bag of collars,
and cuffs on the floor, the other a pile of white dresses.
	"You will all fasten the cuffs around your necks wrists and ankles,"
Miss Mitzie bellowed, "it makes it easier to restrain you when necessary. Do it
now, nice and tight - we will be around to expect them.  Then we start the day
with some good old physical exercises.  Mr Garth and Mr Ho will want you all
dropping to give me thirty press-ups, backs straight and kissing the ground with
each one.  Fix collars and go."
	Each 'angel' now had tired, trembling limbs, their bodies covered in a
film of sweat as they fought to control their breathing.  Rosemary was sitting
up, hands clasped to her neck, the muscles in her aching belly, flip-flopping
with tension as she lowered back onto the floor again after twenty such
stomach-strengthening exercises.  She then became aware of Miss Wang standing
between her thighs which she had to raise and splay immodestly wide in order to
lower her upper body up and down. 
	"Hold, no move."
	The smirking young cow made Rosemary freeze her position halfway up from
the floor, the muscles of her stomach twanging with the effort.  She patted the
shining, flat belly, feeling the tension, sensuously licking her victim's
perspiration from her fingers.
	"This one look like lazy slut to me, she put in enough effort?" she
turned to Mr Ho inquiringly.  	"You think maybe she should have more?" the
squat Chinese man pondered, smirking.
	"Well, she have look of someone who shirks," Miss Wang smiled into her
victim's pretty, straining face as she fought to hold the painful position.
	"Very well, she can do ten extra," Mr Ho decided.
	"Hmm, a lot of work to go to remove flab eh?" Miss Wang lied, winking at
the blonde.  "Quite the whore aren't you," she added to Rosemary's shame by
peering at the pouting delights of her sex, her booted foot circling the mauve
lips.  "Please do continue."
	"Right bollock-chops," Mr Ho screamed at the blonde, kicking her flank,
seemingly annoyed that Miss Wang had to intervene, "let see some sweat."
	Miss Wang smiled again at Rosemary's gasps, her despairing look before
her eyes squeezed shut with strain, before strolling on.     
	They had been bending, stretching running and squatting non-stop for a
full half an hour.   And if they thought their tired bodies could perform no
more, such views were always reversed by Mr Garth or Mr Ho tapping their
shivering, aching flesh with their canes.   Finally, thankfully under the
shouted screams and curses of the two men they all had to enter the communal
showers with initially ice cold water, making them all shiver and gasp, until
warmer water and soap was allowed.  The blonde lad, Nancy, was immediately next
to Rosemary under the streaming water and she could see his admiring glances. 
She too was not exactly turned off by his slim youthfulness and the rigid
indication of his feelings sliding across the cheeks of her soapy bottom. 
Suddenly though a large brown arm fell across his whiteness.
	"I hope you're not getting ideas pretty boy," boomed Mr Garth's deep
voice as he reached in to rub soap over the youth's hard white buttocks,
slipping a finger between them.  "I think you'd better calm down and think about
how you will soon be pleasing others of your own sex," he laughed, holding the
shrinking penis in his hand and directing it away from Rosemary's body. 
	She could guess the boy's shame although she had no wish to compound it
by looking at his scarlet face.  Seemingly though, she was in demand because the
other man, Michelle, was then beside her.  Although he ostensibly ignored her
and made no contact she could see his eyes roving appreciatively over her
slippery, pink glowing curves.  He wasn't at all bad looking she thought, better
than the slim youth, more masculine.  
	Attended by shouts and claps the showers were then turned off and the
trainees ordered to towel dry and dress.  Their only clothing was the pure white
dresses, indeed making the women look like angels.  The scanty material revealed
most of their cleavages and ended just below their buttocks, allowing their
bottoms to peek into view whenever bending or stooping.  The two men had to wear
identical apparel.
	"Get you used to being pretty eh," laughed Mr Ho at their obvious
discomfort.   
	Breakfast was an energy-giving yet plain and frugal affair.  They all
ate from bare wooden tables in monastic silence.   Each of them wore only their
dress, with the word 'Lavery' emblazoned on its back.   No underwear was
permitted and their bottoms shifted uncomfortably on the cold, hard wooden
benches, the nearly transparent clothing doing nothing to prevent the visible
outline of their breasts and buttocks.
	Then, after at last being allowed five minutes to perform their morning
ablutions in the long open line of cubicles they were ordered to form ranks and
march off.
	
		-------------------------------------------

	
	"Right, Western scum," Miss Wang trilled to the ranks of angels who were
standing under the hot sun, hands on heads, legs astride in the required manner,
" this our track where you take part in races." 
	They had arrived at a large tract of land at one side of the camp.   She
marched them around the site, obviously the pride and joy of the camp, for a ten
minute tour pointing out various places of 'interest.'  These included a large
circular track, the twin iron rails of which had a slightly narrower gauge than
the English railways.   Its radius was, Rosemary guessed at least several
hundred metres across the grass of the oasis on which it stood, with numerous
loops of tracks running alongside and rejoining the main circle with points. 
Six long straight tracks joined the main circular track at junctions, merging
gradually via points firstly into three tracks, two, and then onto the one main
track. 
	Set at the end of each lead-in track was a metal wagon, like an
open-topped stagecoach from the Wild West.  Each was gaily painted in a
different colour and with its own individual number.  Although pretty, they
looked heavy and forbidding on their iron wheels.  Miss Wang pointed out the
luxurious black leather upholstered bench seat within each wagon with a more
austere, hard chair at the front. 
	"When you pull your passengers they must be carried in comfort.  Each
wagon has harness system at front, into which you strapped," she smiled at their
despair, halting her apprehensive charges beside a large, roofed stadium.  It
had tiered seats for at least a hundred onlookers.  Several men and women,
including Miss Mitzie, lounged on the seats with binoculars trained on the
trainee angels whilst several armed guards patrolled the camp's perimeter.
	"I afraid, little angels," Miss Wang sighed with mock sympathy walking
up and down the again rigid ranks of misery, "that we always think of better
positioning for the straight tracks which lead into main circle.  This mean each
new intake of angels have to pull them up and relocate them before the races can
take place.  For you," she screwed her eyes up against the sun's cruel glare,
"each track need be uprooted and moved 15 metres to left."  She laughed at the
apprehensive looks flitting across every strained face. "Oh no worry, you be
instructed how to do by our maintenance engineer.  I afraid though it very
physically demanding; it require teamwork and determination - two qualities we
try to instil in you.  If track no pass inspection by engineer it redone - we no
want accidents do we?" she oozed concern.   "You be divided into teams. 
Although you swap around for other activities, for the wagons you remain in
those teams."
	"Guests in stadium keen to see your wares on display." she pointed
briefly at the keen faces sitting in the shade. "They decide maybe whether they
want you in their charge?   Of course, much hard work involved on railway and
everything must be done at double," she emphasised by demeaningly smacking
Rosemary's bottom. "Does lazy cow understand meaning of hard work?"
	"Ow, yes Miss," Rosemary confirmed when, after receiving no reply Miss
Wang cruelly tweaked her nipple jutting through the thin dress.  She wondered
miserably why the bitch always seemed to pick more on her, and when she would be
done with this horrible training and maybe be sent on to wherever Penny was? 
Her tongue briefly touched her tooth, stiffening her resolve.  She would put up
with whatever they threw at her until her time came for revenge.    	
	"Each team have daily quota for number of track-lengths to relay," the
spiteful young girl was continuing.  "Teams which move allotted amount for day
will not be punished!"
	She smiled brightly, as their eyes scanned the seemingly impossible task
ahead of them, remembering the aspects pointed out to them on Miss Wang's tour. 
They imagined unscrewing with giant spanners the huge bolts holding the track at
regular intervals to the sleepers.  Then they must lift those heavy iron rails,
wrenching up the sleepers from where they were embedded in mother nature's
embrace, and carrying each one to its new location.  It would then need settling
in at the right height, driving spikes into the earth with heavy mallets before
carrying and bolting the rails back onto their exact positions on the sleepers.
	The lecture was interrupted by one of the angels, a young girl with long
brown hair whose beautiful body was shaking with sobs.  Miss Wang's face screwed
up in rage as she strutted across to her.
	"You - get a grip," she shouted angrily, twisting the girl's arm up
between her shoulders to bend her body back in a cruel arc of pain.
	"Hah," the girl squirmed away, yelping, as the Chinese girl's cane
cracked around her legs.  Then, suddenly, Miss Mitzie had left the stadium to
intervene between the two. 
	"The observers will be concerned about too much damage to the goods,"
the Negress hissed under her breath to her assistant before turning to the
weeping girl.  She took the pretty, oval face in her huge black hands gently
raising her head until the wide frightened eyes were forced to look into hers.
	"Your stupidity of stealing the wallet from the Arab businessman has
finally sunk in then, Laura?" she whispered almost gently to the girl.
	"Hmphh, y-yes Mistress," the girl sobbed pitifully in a cultured English
accent.
	"Never mind that you were a probationer policewoman back in England, or
that you thought the wallet had been abandoned," Mitzie crooned patiently,
stroking the girl's long soft tresses. "The owner caught you and was rightly
enraged to find money missing from it, whether you took it or not - who knows? 
Unfortunately you made yourself responsible by your own stupid actions.  You
know that the local police were about to throw the book at you and the key away
child?"
	"Yes Miss," the beauty nodded miserably.
	"I know this is all a shock, but if you behave it wont be forever - and
it can be enjoyable," she gave the slim waist a gentle squeeze.  "Luckily for
you I just happened to be on the scene," Laura was unable to see the wry look
pass over Mitzie's face. "I was able to save you by offering this alternative to
harsh local justice, and certain loss of your job back home," she stroked the
sobbing youngster's hair like a concerned mother. "You did the right thing by
putting yourself in my jurisdiction and going back to your hotel with me to be
searched. That was a nice smart, sexy figure-hugging jeans and tank-top you took
off for me and packed in your case, giving me your watch and jewellery.  It's
all held in safe keeping, and if you behave you'll maybe wearing them again
soon. You looked so pretty standing there in the all-together," she patted the
pert curve of the sniffing girl's bottom, almost like a doting mother," writing
to your friends that moving on by yourself.  It was the right decision child,"
crooned Miss Mitzie, wiping the final tears from the wide brimming eyes. 
	She placed the girl's shaking hands back on her head before handing her
back to Miss Wang.  The girl stifled her sobs, wiping her eyes and complied as
the Chinese girl continued her lecture.           
	"Thank you Miss Mitzie," Miss Wang resumed, glaring at Laura. "After
repositioning track you race wagons around it throughout next week or two, but
it not all be hard work," she smiled sadistically with gleaming white teeth, you
have other activities too!  She consulted a notebook and read out the names
allocated to each team.  Rosemary was nominated that day's shift leader of
'Blue' Team, which had five other members, including Lindsey and the male slave,
Michelle.  	
	"You now be shown, by engineer, techniques for re-laying track.  I
advise you listen attentively - not having sore bottoms depends on it," she
smiled sweetly, lightly patting the tight curve of Laura's behind. "Oh, but
first you please remove dresses - we no want them dirty and sweaty - and much
easier for your work. But you no work naked, each put on pair of these," she
indicated several piles of black leather thigh length boots, each marked with
its size, "to make digging easier. Now please," she clapped her hands, then
fingered the handle of her crop.
	It felt so unnatural for Rosemary to publicly strip in the open air but,
like the others, there was no question of disobedience - they knew the
consequences.  Their dresses formed a neat pile before they selected boots of
the appropriate size.  Then they scurried back under Miss Wang's direction to
form four neat lines with hands clasped back on their heads. It felt even worse
to wear nothing but the long boots, almost flaunting and emphasising the bare
white flesh above them.
	"Look at the tits on that!"
	Rosemary blushed under the avid, piercing gaze of a group of guards who
stared at their shame, making obscene comments. Part of her longed to plead with
the Chinese girl not to make them do this, or to just run away - but she knew
the futility and danger of that. She saw that the watchers in the stadium had
also suddenly took a renewed interest in them - their potential property.  She
felt the colour rising in her face as the observers leaned forward, the lenses
from their binoculars glinting in the sun.  Wearing just boots she felt like a
whore.  But something of the exhibitionist surfaced in her.  Having no choice
but display herself she decided with an inner smile to give them a show. 
Squaring her shoulders, she thrust out her breasts almost proudly until she saw
the effect it was having on the blonde boy, Nancy, and also that the obnoxious
Mr Ho was sauntering over.  She relaxed, not wishing to unduly attract the
creep's attention.
	"I make good engineers out of you eh?" his piggy eyes glinted over the
array of beauty. 
	"Yes Sir," they whispered respectfully, there was no other possible
response.
	"You gonna' try digging with this?" the Chinese slob chuckled, obscenely
holding Nancy's swinging erection.
	"No Sir, sorry Sir," he winced as the Chinese flicked it contemptuously
into shrinking. 	
	Mr Ho took a languid swig from a bottle of iced beer before beginning
his instruction.  So natural, but it brought home to Rosemary the true reality
of her predicament. Such a simple act under the heat of the morning sun was, for
her, now totally impossible and forbidden.  She licked her lips, the well of
self-pity deepening within her, but also her determination.
	Mr Ho showed them the tools they would use, how to undo the rails, the
new location to move their particular lengths, and the approximate size of the
footings to accommodate the sleepers. They would have to use angle irons to lay
the sleepers square so that the pre-drilled holes lined up with those on the
rails.    
	"Each team racing against each other, team leaders report to me,
respectfully, when ready for inspection of each length. Go - run," Mr Ho blew a
whistle.
	Rosemary grunted under the effort as she picked up her tools.  Like the
others she had to carry her own pickaxe, spade and long metal spanner.  As she
groaned under their combined weight she ground her teeth in anger at the murmur
of excitement and appreciation from the watchers in the stadium.  Her body
jiggled as she struggled with the awkward implements to her team's rail-head
signified by a flag bearing their team colour.
	Sweat pooled in her eyes and plastered her long hair as she strained
with her team under the hot sun to firstly undo the large tight bolts securing
the rails to the sleepers.  She encouraged them to exchange whispered names and
brief details.  It had became fundamentally important to at least know who they
were.
	Lindsey apart, Rosemary's Blue Team, were all English.  Loopy, the
teacher who wore glasses, was called Lynne. Her husband had swindled his
employers in an Arab bank.  Together they had tried to cover it up and she had
ended up here by virtual blackmail.  A buxom dark haired girl in her twenties
with flashing eyes was called Flasher, her real name being Kate.  Her sadistic
and cruel ex-boyfriend had persuaded her to sign up simply to clear his debts!  
In addition to Laura, the probationer policewoman who had been nicknamed Copper,
was Michelle.  His real name was Mark, a thirty year old who had crossed the
rich wife of an Arab businessman.   However, in response to Rosemary's
desperate, whispered, entreaties, none had any knowledge of her sister.
	How could they know that Miss Mitzie, relaxing under the shade of the
stadium, knew what was going on in virtually every team.  Ostensibly depriving
the Angels of their real names was a deliberate ploy.  It kept any subversive
energies occupied in that direction by letting them think they had achieved some
major objective - which was in fact quite worthless.  All of the angels had
transgressed the law in some form or other.  When and if they were released none
would be too anxious to talk about their experiences or who else was being held.
The filmed footage of their various activities in the camp, not all as innocent
as track-laying, would ensure their ashamed silence! 
	Soft feminine hands more used to holding the chilled slender stem of a
wine glass, or sliding over a computer keyboard, now frantically grasped the
course iron handles of huge spanners.  Muscles which normally would expect to
exert themselves no more than in a gym or tennis court were having to strain to
turn unyielding metal nuts, lift heavy rails and prise up heavy wooden sleepers
from the seemingly magnetic clutches of the earth. 
	Having removed the first rail, the six straining Blue team figures
lifted, as one, the thick wooden sleeper, grunting and gasping, carrying it to
the new location.  The women might be used to some little gentle gardening but
never had they had to frantically dig with heavy spades, working against time,
trenches for the heavy wooden planks, hoping they were in the right positions,
measuring the required depths and angles.  After frantically bedding in the
sleepers, the metal rails came next, laying them down, lining them up, cursing,
straining and bolting them up.  It was backbreaking work to a tight deadline. 
Swinging the heavy hammers, the shock of contact reverberated through their soft
bodies.  Sinews creaked as they tightened them evenly. 
	A drink, or indeed several, would have most welcome but such luxuries
were denied them. A team could gulp tepid water from an old oily barrel, but
only after each length of track had been approved by Mr Ho.
	Rosemary and her team looked at each other.  Had they got it right or
simply slogged away wasting their time?  The guards were only in the background
to ensure no one tried to escape, not to offer advice.  The entire
responsibility was down to each team, also to not waste time and complete the
work quickly in order to avoid the punishments of not meeting the quota.  Now
came the crunch.  It was time to summon the Chinese brute to see if the first
length had been laid correctly.
	With only him to check the work of all the teams there could inevitably
be some delay.  They could see that one team had already had a length of track
inspected, and rejected.  They were working on it again.  Another seemed to have
been successful with their first length.  As Mr Ho again reclined in the shade
that team greedily drank water from the barrel before undoing the next length of
rail.
	"Go for it, quickly!
	"OK, keep your glasses on 'Miss'."
	Rosemary had bitten back a worse retort.  Knowing that Lynne was just
reacting to the pressure they all felt.  She began running, as instructed,
towards Mr Ho's hammock under an awning.  Having to ignore her bouncing flesh
and the cheers from the crowd, it fell to her to reach him before the fourth
team could get someone there first.  	
	The fat slob lay back sipping cool beer from a bottle.  Again it made
Rosemary unconsciously lick her lips.  She was parched and drooling for
something alcoholic.  The last time she had seen that particular brand of beer
had been a couple of short weeks ago when she and Damien had drunk the golden
nectar from similar bottles in the garden of a Kent pub. She had crossed and
uncrossed her long tanned legs under the tiny white miniskirt she wore, drinking
in the admiring male glances.   
	She remembered that shortly after that drink she had been as naked as
she was now.  Not publicly, and before a leery Oriental creep though, it had
been Damien's bronzed hulk which had gleamed in the twilight alongside hers.  A
delicious shudder went through her as she recalled his hands on her as she sat
on the front passenger seat of his new red sports-car her satin smooth legs
spread wide, feet braced against the roof.  She remembered him kneeling before
her his rigid hardness dipping deep into the melting honey-pot of her eager sex,
his smooth hands kneading her tight breasts... . 
	Then a shout from her colleagues in Blue team brought her back to the
hideous current reality and a naked blonde from the fourth team racing with
wildly bouncing breasts towards Mr Ho.
	"Please Sir," Rosemary bowed deeply, as previously instructed, before
him, trying to forget those thoughts of a previous life, her fists clenched with
anxiety,  "Blue team for inspection."
	At first he ignored her fluttering anxious blonde charms.  He was
obviously sitting quite comfortably under his shade with a cool drink, and would
probably have preferred not to have gone out again into that hot sun.  However,
finally looking up, his small eyes travelled greedily over her lush nudity. 
	The intense stress she was under would have been obvious to him. Her
darting, wide eyes implored him to speed, neat white teeth biting down onto full
red lips, slim yet grubby fingers digging painfully into her hands to leave
white marks in the soft skin.  The look in her face, and those of the other
slaves waiting by the track in her team, was testament to the punishment they
could expect if the track failed inspection, and they subsequently failed to
meet their quota. 
	"I used to mend washing machines.  This better though," he relaxed on
the hammock, still in no hurry to get up. "It good to have pretty Western girls
running up to me, showing their wares," he smirked, taking another swig from the
bottle. "You understand? You appreciate?"
	Indeed, Rosemary hung attentively on his every word, nodding earnestly. 
The slobbish brute was responsible for pain, or lack of it.  No matter how much
she wanted to slap him, kick him off the hammock, she was desperate for him to
come with her and dare not ignore or hassle him.
	"Blue Team you say," he toyed with her, smiling at her exasperated
breathing and the way it made her breasts rise and fall, "where is that?"
	"Over ... over there, Sir," she brought her panting breath under
control, pointing with a shaking hand.
	"You're a pretty girl, nice firm body, nice tits."
	"Oh, er yes Sir, thank you Sir."
 	She could have screamed, she wanted to be sick, but daren't.  If only
the lumbering bastard would hurry but he seemed to have all the time in the
world.  And indeed he did, pressure and pain was reserved here only for the
angels.
	"Stand closer to me girl and open your legs wide, let me see more of
you," his oily voice purred.
	Momentarily her eyes flashed and contemplated refusal or even lashing
out.  Only a few days ago she had shouted at a Greek man at Heathrow who had
dared to pinch her pert bottom.  Her eyes slits of anger she had slapped him,
only relaxing at the sight of his pathetic figure scurrying away.  However, that
was many miles and a million years away from the world she was now in.  Now,
even thinking such thoughts was dangerous because it delayed a response and
invited punishment.  Biting her lip even harder she reluctantly shifted her legs
apart before the beast.
	"More missy, I want see your lips wink at me.  Open wide and point it at
me - bend legs, thrust it.  Wider ... wider."
	Stomach heaving, she parted her legs fully wide bent her knees and
pushed her hips towards him, just like a whore.  She felt a twang of almost
excited promiscuity at what she was having to do - but if only it wasn't before
such a hideous creep.  He wanted her total shame and surrender.  She saw his
piggy eyes feasting on her pink womanly secrets and then, horror of horrors, one
of his hands stroked her belly and fingered her dainty pubic bush. Like a slug,
a finger trailed over the outside of her sex lips.  This was nothing like the
sensuous touch yesterday of Mr Garth.  This was a blatant assault by a horrid
slob - but one who controlled her.  Involuntarily her hips wriggled, in contrast
was the tension of her jawline and fists balled by her side.  It made him
snigger, whilst she just wanted to cover her breasts and tear his slimy fingers
from the invasion of her body.     
	"I see, well we'd better have a look then, this one's  getting
impatient," he nodded at the girl from the other team waiting anxiously for his
inspection.  	She was the slim teenage blonde, Tinkerbelle, who, according to
her team's whispered exchange of information, was Elaine, a haughty Sloane
Ranger who had crossed one too many influential Arabs and found herself on the
wrong side of a Lavery contract.  Elaine's bright blue eyes first widened at
Rosemary's blatant, inviting pose, then crinkled in mocking amusement before
switching back to the impassive expression which was always safest in this
place.  Her small breasts heaved with impatience as she now stood eye to eye
with the Chinese.
	"Mr Ho  ... , Sir, we're ready too, just over there," she pointed,
trying to jump the queue.
	"You too tall Titty-Tinkerbelle, need to come down a bit," Mr Ho
demeaningly squeezed her ripe young boobs, glaring when her hands twitched as if
to snatch his away.  Infuriatingly for the girl he had totally ignored her
quest. "I think I have you squat, hands on head, down there till I get back,
no-one wants to see you."
	Although glad at her, literal, put-down, for a heart-stopping moment,
Rosemary thought the girl's fiery spirit would provoke a reaction, thus maybe
causing grief and delay for her too.  It was thus with both satisfaction and
relief that she saw the spark of anger in her eyes diminish under control as she
slowly clasped her neck and squatted, incongruously out of sight beside a fern.
The girl's legs were now as wide as hers had been, displaying hairless, girlish
sex lips.
	"Good girl, little Tinker, I be back soon, you piss if you want while
squatting," Ho chuckled.  He condescendingly patted her blonde head, making her
wobble on splayed legs, before strolling off behind Rosemary, ogling her swaying
hindquarters as she marched ahead of him with stiff swinging arms - as required
by the rules.
	As they must, the six naked slaves stood rigidly to attention in a line
as Mr Ho meticulously inspected the track ... before failing it. 
	"No, no, this no good eh," he wagged his finger at the sagging line of
humanity who now had to contemplate more fruitless work, "you no listen to my
instructions."
	Whilst more precious minutes ticked by he took Rosemary and dark-haired
Kate by their hands, leading them like a grandfather with young children to the
faulty areas.  His hand pushed down their spines making them bend to look.
	"You see, bad joints there, and there - not properly lined up. 
Understand?"
	"Yes Sir, sorry Sir," they hissed dejectedly. Despite their
teeth-clenching frustration, both Rosemary and Kate grovelled in the manner they
guessed was required trying to ignore him stroking and patting the taut curves
of their bottoms, patting them condescendingly.  
	"You understand why you need do again?  Too sloppy."
	"Yes Sir," it was a joint whisper.  Downcast, all of the team were
impatient to get on the their tasks rather than be lectured like children. 
	Finally, tutting, he lumbered back to his drink in the shade and
Elaine's, still squatting, form.  	"
	Oh shit,  I cannot - just cannot do it all again without a drink," Laura
began sobbing until Rosemary turned on her, shouting.
	"Look, were all f---ing tired but ... ." Rosemary, with an effort reined
in her temper and got a grip as she placed her arm around the youngster's
sobbing shoulders. "Sorry Laura I'm bushed too.  I'd die for a drink - but we'll
probably do just that unless we get this right.  Chin up babe," she wiped the
large, tear-filled eyes, stroking a few stray strands of hair from her sticky
brow, assuming a similar role here as she had with Penny.
	"Trouble?  Copper again?"
	They jumped, startled at the sudden appearance of Miss Wang.
	"No, no Miss it's OK we've just got to reposition this track," Rosemary
explained.
	"I see ... quite sloppy it look to me," the spiteful young girl yawned
as she briefly regarded their handiwork.  "However, I more interested in your
control of team and discipline.  Firstly, from now when you speak me on site
here I want you bow first to show respect. Do it."
	Rosemary could feel the tension and pressure rise within her.  It would
be so easy to lash out and the smirking Oriental bitch.  She had a job to do, a
back-breaking job against a deadline, and the grinning cow just stood there
relaxed.  Again Rosemary controlled her temper and frustration.  The girl had
power and authority on her side whilst she had nothing; she stood humbly naked
before the youngster.  Clenching her teeth she bowed to her tormentor.
	"Lower, and you too Copper, both hold position till I say."
	Fists clenched Rosemary bowed deeply from the waist, seeing Laura do the
same, her gaze focused on the Chinese girl's elegant dress, such clothing which
was now denied her.
 	"That better," came the mocking voice, "but I believe I witness
discipline problem with Copper - she object to working on rail?"
	"Oh no Miss," Rosemary remained looking down, "she was just thirsty, we
are OK, we know what we have to do."
	"I not sure you appreciate your role as team leader and keeping team in
order Trixie.  In my opinion local discipline needed - from you.  Unless you
want question my judgement I think you get Copper touch her toes, before you
smack her naughty bottom. Now!"
	Unbending, Rosemary looked up at Laura.  Desperately the youngster was
scanning the stadium, as if looking for help.
	"Miss Mitzie having midmorning drinks if you want to know - no longer
interested in you. I in charge for now."  Do you both disobey?" she smiled
sadistically.
	"Better do it babe," Rosemary instructed her pretty, dark-haired victim.
	Ashamed of herself, she tried to ignore the tiny warm bubble of power,
to which she was here so unaccustomed, which briefly coursed her veins as the
beautiful youngster stood before her, breasts heaving.  Brushing back the dark
hair from her innocent, distraught yet still pretty, heart-shaped face she bent
over, the perfect spheres of her bottom thrusting and tightening. 
	Such a girl had no place here.  Rosemary could imagine her victim
dancing in tight miniskirts and short dresses.  She would be more used to
clubbing, clutching a mobile phone in one hand and a beer in the other, laughing
with girlfriends, enjoying herself; would-be boyfriends attentive and eager. 
The girl should be simply enjoying herself and life - rather than enduring this
hell at the behest of these sadists.  Closing her eyes, Rosemary knew she must
keep her head and her sympathy for Penny and herself.
	Briefly Rosemary wondered if Penny had been made to bend over in similar
circumstances, naked, tired and thirsty before the Chinese bitch.  Maybe Penny's
team had slaved to move the same tracks into their current position, and now she
had to move them back?  Grinding her teeth in frustration and anger, shutting
down that train of thought, she lifted her hand.
	"I suggest you first gauge target," interrupted their hateful
tormentor's sing-song voice, extracting every drop of anticipation and
frustration and control from the situation. "A couple of pats to accustom flesh,
then ... let say three spanks.  Hard ones or you both get more."
	That guilty bubble of power again floated through Rosemary's belly as
she tapped the taut flesh, feeling the girl's bottom contract, feeling the heat
rising in her own loins.  The skin was silken soft, satin smooth hot, yet cool
in the cleft where her fingers rested.  How could one deny a certain amount of
pleasure at such actions?  Briefly she had gained a slight insight into the
pleasure that she herself must have recently given others.
	Slap!
	"Ooooh!" 
	Her hand stung from the impact and she tried to imagine how Laura's
bottom must feel under the red imprint, trying also to rid her thoughts of any
pleasure in the act.
	"No hard enough, that no count," came the voice they most hated in the
world. "Three more proper slaps please, and keep legs proper straight, wider
apart, grip ankles tight Copper."
	Laura slumped slightly before obeying the Chinese girl's command.
	Slap!
	"Haaagh, please."
	Rosemary's hand had cracked hard against the under-curve of the taut
bottom with a sound almost like a pistol-shot.  Briefly the girl's hands
detached themselves from her ankles and she half straightened, raising her
tearstained, imploring eyes, before she again assumed the position under the
gentle but firm pressure of her hand on her the curve of the back.
	After three hard spanks Laura's bottom was red with pain.  Both she and
Rosemary bowed before the instigator of their torment.
	"Barely good enough, I think this need reporting in punishment book. 
You agree Michelle?" the youngster turned disdainfully towards the male Angel.
	"Yes Miss," Mark bowed before the girl who held all the aces.
	"I see you still have bad tendencies," she giggled whilst holding his
growing erection in cool slim hands. "Maybe you like see girls spanked, yes?  Or
maybe you don't believe in discipline?"
	"I - I don't know Miss." He was obviously in an impossible position.
	"Bollocks - 'boy'," she spat viciously, "I think you spend too much
energy thinking about that.  You toss off - now.  Get it out system.  If not
done in thirty seconds you go in book too and hold up rest of team."
	Like the others, standing to attention before him, Rosemary tried not to
look directly at the red-faced Mark as his hand began sliding rhythmically over
his erection.  Nevertheless, out of curiosity maybe, her eyes were drawn
magnetically to his jerking hand.  Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening at
the sight of the large throbbing stub of flesh straining away from his belly. 
Miss Wang had no such inhibitions and looked on with open amusement as his
breathing deepened, the tendons in his neck standing out, his knob turning a
deeper purple.  Then she offered him fresh torment.
	"I wonder if your wife might enjoy it here, little bollock boy?" her
eyes held a glint of cruelty as Mark's mouth dropped open and he interrupted his
pounding rhythm.  "Oh yes, she might soon be heading for Hassan for visit and
you made serious enemies out here.  Who knows if she might break law out here...
." 
	"Please ... ,"  he implored the  diminutive young sadist.
	" Silence!" Miss Wang snapped. "Continue, and while you do, think of her
standing here naked maybe in a few weeks time after you go, working, servicing
Mr Garth?  Such a pretty little thing - I see photos of her."  She smiled again
at the gamut of emotions crossing his face before he jetted forth his white
man's burden.	
	"That better eh, big boy?" she mocked.	
	"Yes, thank you Miss."  It was a barely audible whisper.  They could
imagine his shame at being forced to so perform before them and at the behest of
a slip of a youngster.  And in addition would be the mental turmoil at the
thought of his wife possibly being made a captive here too.
	Contemptuously staring into his downcast eyes, the Chinese girl ground
her heel into the small white puddle on the ground, obliterating the offering he
had been forced to provide her.
	"That get rid of that bollock-rubbish.  Carry on," Miss Wang, minced
away.  	Rosemary briefly touched Mark's muscled shoulder. With a brief smile she
tried to give him as much sympathy as she had left available in this hell hole. 
Then, wiping her brow she joined the others in bending her aching back to undo
the bolts they had so recently tightly secured, knowing they had probably lost
about five or ten minutes whilst being tormented by the bitch.

		------------------------

	Half an hour later Rosemary was again standing before Mr Ho. The
regulation bottle of beer rested on his huge pot belly and a cigarette hung from
his mouth.  She had to swallow her pride and disgust, they didn't matter; there
was no choice anyway.  She wouldn't normally have given the likes of him the
time of day, but now she needed him, the team did.  She needed him more than
anything else in her life at that moment.
	"Please Sir, Blue team for re-inspection," she bowed.
	"Sit on lap while I finish cigarette, " he growled.
	Again there was no choice - none at all.  She simply wanted to get this
brute to look at the track and be rid of him instead she had to sit daintily on
his huge lap while he pawed her curves, giggling to himself. 
	"Name?"
	"Ro- Trixie Sir," she whispered correcting herself, trying to ignore his
laugh.  She must get back to the rails and her team.
	"Married? Children?"
	"What? Er, married, no-no children - yet."  Forgetting herself at such a
personal question, she bit her lip, fighting back a tear at the intrusion into
her life, not wanting to cry in front of this creep.
	"You forget how you address me I think Trixie - naughty,"  he rumbled,
cruelly capturing one of her generous breasts, pinching the nipple till she
screamed.  Her hand tried to pry his loose from her sore morsel of flesh.
	"No, no," he grinned, his head shaking slowly. "Hands on head, sit back
so arse hang over my lap.  Spread legs wide, wider ... wider," he insisted till
satisfied with her blatant exposure. "I  feel of your  c--t."
	Rage and revulsion swept through her but after tensing herself to hit
him - her eyes flashing angrily, she took a deep breath.  Managing to maintain
control she positioned herself obscenely as he directed.  She tried to think of
the track, would it pass?  Would they meet their quota?  What was Damien doing
now?  Anything to take her mind off the reality of those grimy hands.  They
crawled so slowly over the curve of her bottom jutting over his lap whilst his
slobbering mouth fastened on her breasts. The harsh roughness of his stubble
rubbed her sensitive orbs, spittle dribbled down them, his large teeth nipped
and chewed the morsels of flesh so brutally.
	She longed to claw his eyes out as he jiggled her bosoms and pinched her
bottom crudely; instead her hands remained clasped obediently on her neck.  When
she felt the hand move from her breasts to slide up her spread  thighs to her
open womanhood she was unable to prevent a shudder, her natural womanly
instincts tensing and closing her thighs slightly.
	"Naughty girl, Trixie, open them up, like you did before. I want to
smell it waiting for me."
	At first she opened her eyes wide in appeal, but it was wasted totally
on the brute.  He was seemingly oblivious to, or more likely simply enjoyed, the
shame he inflicted.  Slowly she parted her thighs, feeling a large finger
pushing inside her.  It went between the ripeness of her sex lips, right into
her.  Then sickened even further, she felt a finger from his other hand pushing
into her anus. She had always hated being touched there, let alone by such a
vile creep.
	"Ughh. Please ...Sir," she whimpered, wriggling, her tight passage
contracting in a useless attempt to prevent the invading digit.  It filled and
stretched her horribly until she felt his fingers two fingers must surely meet
within her.
	How he seemed to enjoy the look of revulsion in her face as he pushed
into the tight rubbery resistance of her bottom.  Then her shame was multiplied
as another finger, stirred her sleeping clitoris, producing a little reluctant
moisture and heat.
	"Juicy eh?" he laughed, delving further within her. 
	Her mouth opened wide, hips wriggling, but she kept her hands clasped on
her neck. He seemed to have all the time in the world.  She had given up all
hope of being released to have the track checked when Mr Ho's radio crackled to
life and she heard Miss Mitzie's voice.  Although not able to hear the words she
guessed that Mr Ho was being urged to both literally and metaphorically pull his
finger out! 	Throwing away the butt of his cigarette he pushed Rosemary from
him and told her to march back to Blue team. 
	The bastard made them sweat.  Lined up rigid and still, he walked down
their ranks poking and prodding them with a nicotine-stained finger, lecturing
them.  Lindsey made a first mistake of flinching away from the hand fingering
her heaving boobs.
	"Please - is the track all right?"  she implored. 
	"F---ing tart, I do when ready," he snarled, first slapping a breast to
make it bounce, then grabbing and squeezing her chin in a cruel grip.  Her
second mistake was in so reacting within earshot Miss Wang.  The young girl
looked coldly at her, jotting down a note, strolling across.  Groaning, they all
bowed obediently.
	"I regret discipline in this team fall apart," the instigator of their
pain stated with no obvious regret whatsoever. "I think you know what you must
do?" she captured Lindsey's wide brown eyes with her own. 
	Obediently, shoulders sagging despondently, the beautiful Italian girl
walked to Rosemary, parted her legs slightly and touched her toes, hair
obscuring her tense face.  Desperately trying to avoid more gloating orders from
the Chinese witch and thus waste more time Rosemary diligently targeted and
patted the firm globes presented before her.  She felt the gentle pubic tickle
from the girl's sex lips against her palm.  Again she tried to banish the
frisson of pleasure at the touch.  Was she a closet sadist or lesbian she
wondered? 
	She wondered how many others could truthfully admit to having no such
feelings, no matter how tiny, when being obliged, without choice or fear of
responsibility and thus guilt, to do such things; having a beautiful woman so
positioned before her.  Resolving her dilemma she decided that such feelings
must certainly be dormant to some degree or other in everyone and would surface,
no matter how unwanted, under the right circumstances.  There but for the grace
of God etc!  	
	"Good, Western slut learn something then," came the Oriental sneer.
"This time though I think two on bottom, two around face.  Hard ones."
	Crack! Crack!
	Lindsey gave a clenched teeth hiss under Rosemary's hand on her buttocks
but otherwise managed to contain herself.  Then she stood to attention, her eyes
screwed shut in anticipation of the next blow.  Rosemary knew this would be
harder.  Spanking a bottom had in a way almost lighthearted sexual connotations
but slapping a face was, to her, somehow more personal.  However, again she had
no alternative.  The luxury of choice rested solely with the evil Chinese bitch
at the moment.  Briefly  she wondered whether her Penny had suffered similarly
at the girl's hands.  She longed to throttle her, wring the truth out of that
smirking face, find her sister - now.  That was a dream.  The reality was before
her; she must slap the waiting, twitching cheeks of her friend.
	Smack!
	Rosemary almost stepped back anticipating a reciprocal blow - as she
might reasonably expect if slapping a woman. Instead of course, Lindsey remained
in position, one cheek as red and smarting as those of her bottom.
	Smack!
	"Haah," Lindsey rocked slightly from the second teeth-rattling slap,
sniffing back the tears welling from her now wide eyes.
	"Hmm, maybe some progress, but it no offset poor discipline I find
here," Miss Wang muttered as she wrote in her book of pain.
	After treating them to a belch, Mr Ho joined in by mentioning that
Rosemary had been slow and tardy in obeying his orders when requesting the
inspection.  That also went down in the girl's book.
	However, the brute could in reality now find no fault with the track and
he initialled an approval slip.  Now varying his routine by giving a loud fart
he patted Kate's shapely backside before wandering back to his shady hammock.
	Rosemary almost cried with relief.  Then she realised just how quickly
her priorities had changed.  Would she have believed anyone just two days ago if
they had said she would have felt such pleasure in laying a stupid length of
metal to the satisfaction of such a gross beast?  
	A glance at the camp clock showed the team that they were well behind
schedule.  Thirsty and tired they ducked their heads into the tepid yet
life-giving water in the barrel.  Long white limbs flailing they each drank
greedily before trotting back to start on the next length of track.  




TO BE CONTINUED

		THE SEARCHER  /  CAMP OF ANGELS - PART 4





                              CHAPTER 6



	After their sweating toils on the railway since early morning the weary
Angels had to march back naked to the camp carrying their pristine dresses high
above their heads on straight arms.  There they welcomed the opportunity to
refresh themselves under warm showers before thankfully donning their dresses
for another plain but nourishing meal.  They were told that for the afternoon
they would be kept in the same teams as for the morning labours - for what Miss
Mitzie called 'Love Lessons.' 
 	All of the trainers were in attendance, including also Mrs Leilla and
one of the Chinese office staff who had untied them on arrival.  Rosemary gave a
muted sigh of relief when Miss Wang went with another group and Mrs Leilla
ambled to their Blue Team.
	"Some of you already know Mrs Leilla, but those who don't need only be
aware that you treat her with the respect and obedience you would accord me -or
you answer to me."  Miss Mitzie ended her lecture and left with another group.
	"Good afternoon Angels," the Arab woman positively purred grace and
sensuality.  "You are looking very attractive in your dresses, even you
Michelle," her face twitched into a wry grin.   "However, to learn about sex and
pleasing others one needs no such encumbrance; you'll thus all shortly undress. 
Firstly, each hold out your left hand please." 
	Now gone, or maybe she ever existed, was the friendly woman who had met
Rosemary in the civilised surroundings of the airport.  In her place was someone
who found it quite normal to control and train six 'slaves.'  And Mrs Leilla
made it quite clear that she would beat them with the belt she had removed from
her elegant suit if they were not totally obedient and respectful. 	They
each had to hold out their quivering hands like schoolchildren to receive a lash
from that strap as a little demonstration that she would countenance no trouble
from her attentive troupe.
	"Here's yours Poppet," Mrs Leilla smiled into Rosemary's wincing eyes as
her belt flashed down to leave a stinging aftermath of pain.  When finished, she
again stood before the line, seeming to relish their winces as they rubbed their
hands. "Today you will be shown and will demonstrate to me various stages of
seduction."
	They were divided into pairs under the hot and watchful eyes of their
elegant teacher.  Her face flushing, Rosemary knew that things which would
normally be conducted in privacy, as a matter of choice between a man and a
woman, would now be on public display and scrutiny.  The acts would be drawn
clinically into the harsh light of day.  And they would, she guessed, have to be
practised mainly woman to woman. 
	"Sexual contact and consummation is the end result," Mrs Leilla
lectured; "firstly comes the seduction.  Now into pairs please," she directed
them whilst switching on gentle background music from hidden speakers. 
	Rosemary considered herself fortunate to at least be with a member of
the opposite sex.  Like the other couples, she and Mark stood facing each other
as instructed, inches apart but without touching.
	"It is easy to spread your legs for someone to stick a prick up your
c--t, or elsewhere, but it is the getting there that's important," she
continued. "I consider facial expressions, eye contact, body language and
kissing to be essential first steps.  We will practise those first."
	Rosemary and Mark had to just smile enticingly at each other, looking
into each other's eyes.  She could senses the bottled-up torment and frustration
in that contact and she too felt the stirring of a reciprocal need for
friendship and comfort in this place.
	"Now gentle touching and stroking, start at the head and neck and work
down."
	She orchestrated her class like a conductor.  Rather than loving,
spontaneous acts she ensured that her puppets performed exactly to her
specification.  Peering closely, she nodded as Mark's hands slid down Rosemary's
swan-like neck and over her shoulders, down her waist.
	"Stand closer, not so stiff, relax, keep your hands moving, light
touches, stroke her back and bottom," she ordered.  "Remember, she wants to be
f--ked - but she must wait - let the expectation build."  Mrs Leilla nodded in
satisfaction as his hands moulded themselves to the perfect buttock cheeks
visible through the thin material of the blonde's dress.  A wry smile pulled at
the Arab woman's face when the straining, tent-like protuberance at Mark's waist
was squashed as the couple now pressed closer together swaying gently with the
music.
	"Now, hands resting on each other's shoulders stroke the straps of the
little dress which you will on my order remove from each other, pretend it is a
man's shirt."
	Rosemary shivered with pleasure at the gentle touch of Mark's fingers on
her shoulders.  However, it made her tardy in continuing similar caresses of his
body.
	Crack!
	"Aaghh," she jumped, yelping with shock as Mrs Leilla's belt caught her
thighs a small, unexpected flick.  The blow and the pain were so out of context
against the soothing, seductive background music.
	"More effort girl," she snapped.
	Trying to ignore the smarting, Rosemary concentrated on Mark's
shoulders.  She sensed the frustrated, impotent anger in his eyes at his
inability to prevent her pain.
	"Drop them."
	Rosemary shivered again at the touch of his hands sliding the thin
garment from her body.  Likewise, she rid his body of its ridiculous female
covering.  Her large green eyes, still obediently locked on his, briefly
crinkled into wicked amusement and mock surprise as his penis, fully recovered
in stamina after the morning, stiffly brushed her fluttering belly.
	"Ignore it girl - for the moment," their teacher directed. "Run your
fingers through your partners' hair.  Shake it loose."
	Her nipples hardening, Rosemary slid her hands over his head and neck;
in turn feeling her golden tresses flowing over fingers which traced lines of
desire, making her scalp tingle deliciously.  Constantly she had to remind
herself that this wasn't Damien's touch.  They weren't in a darkened bedroom,
they had no free will over their actions.  
	Crack!
	"Haah."
	"No holding back girl pretend you love your partner, that you want to
give her the gift of your body, forget that she is a woman.
	The swish of Mrs Leilla's belt and Laura's gasp of pain in Kate's arms
was a further reminder to them all of the utter seriousness of what they had to
do.
	Rosemary and Mark were genuinely trying to entice each other with their
eyes and Slightly parted mouths.
	"Now your own bodies.  Stroke and caress them.  Keep the eye contact,
promise anything, everything, with your eyes and body.  Circle your lips with
your tongues moisten them."
	Swaying deliciously to the music, seductively, trying to forget the
circumstances and company under which she was doing it, Rosemary cupped her
breasts. She held them, feeling her nipples like ripe berries in her hands as
Mark ran his fingers up and down his throbbing erection. 
	"Touch your partner.  Begin by tickling their nipples with your
fingertips, kiss their throat, then proceed, but not too far - don't get carried
away."
	Her nipples became taut and stiff under Mark's manipulations, making
electric circles of desire wash through her breasts.  Likewise, her own fingers
brushed and tweaked his hairy chest and his tight buds whilst planting soft
kisses on the thick pulse of his throat.  Drawing her tightly against him,
against his desire, his throbbing spear pressed up against her belly.  She
shivered as his hands traced down the enticing curve of her spine to gently cup
each magnificent cheek of her bottom.  Likewise, she held his buttocks, which
were like two small hard dumbbells, pulling his need closer against her waiting
softness.  Undulating against him, she took an impish delight in the knowledge
that he mustn't yet use it on her, being able to safely test her seductive
effect on him. 	
	Mrs Leilla swiftly stalked to another couple.
	Crack!
	"Graghh, oh please," Lynne wailed as the belt caught her squarely across
her bottom, making her twist away from Lindsey's embrace.
	"Look it maybe some time since you seduced anyone but you will do so now
- it doesn't matter that it is another woman.  Those to whom you are paroled may 
require you to perform such acts - and they will expect expertise.  Or you may
be under the supervision of another woman.  Pretend that person, whoever it is,
is your husband, pretend it's Brad Pitt - whoever.  Just concentrate totally on
pleasing the person you are with.  Soak up their touch."
	Rosemary saw Lynne again press herself against Lindsey, the breasts of
both women erotically sliding together.  Mrs Leilla's frown slowly disappeared
as the two lovely bodies swayed together, hands gliding down each other's dipped
spines to clasp the flexing buttocks, grinding their pubis together.  To all
intents and purposes the nude couple could have been lesbian lovers caught in an
illicit embrace.
	"Now, lips brushing, not kissing yet just touching. Go."
	Resentment surged through her as this woman dictated actions and
emotions which should flow freely - but she knew better than to delay.  Mark's
mouth brushed hers, her lips slightly parted, she pecked and nibbled his
stubbled skin, drinking in his maleness.  All the while their eyes had to
express the promise required by their ever vigilant tutor - and little of it was
now acting.  The hot moist tip of his erect penis was being tickled by the soft
down of her pubic hair as she gently moved her hips against him.  She knew that
the warmth and moisture she felt at her apex was a testimony to her own
feelings.
	Mark sighed, confirming the tormented frustrated pleasure in his eyes,
but then Mrs Leilla finally ordered the end of that exercise.
	Rosemary then found herself having to reluctantly change partners; she
was now with Lynne.  Their bobbing breasts were just touching, erect nipples
bouncing and brushing as they stood close together, their hands on the smooth
skin of each other's shoulders.  They gently nibbled the other's ear lobes.
	"Stroke her hair, you love her remember," their teacher instructed
Lynne, flicking the woman's bottom when she considered insufficient enthusiasm
was being shown.
	Although not a lesbian, Rosemary couldn't deny the small stirring of
excitement, no matter how unwanted.  As directed they gently exchanged kisses. 
The schoolteacher's lips on her throat, her fingers running through her hair,
produced tingles of pleasure as their tight breasts rubbed sensuously together. 
All the while though, the inquisitive face of Mrs Leilla thrust close to her
charges, directing their movements.
	Another change of partners and Lindsey was before Rosemary.  However,
the beautiful Italian girl had to stand with her back to her, arms outstretched
in the shape of a cross.
	"We will now explore just the power of touch," the Arab woman instructed
as she directed one girl in each pair to stand as Lindsey was. "Come up behind
then, with eyes closed, explore her.  Get to know your partner's body by touch,
whilst she will remain unmoving just absorbing the feelings."
	Tentatively Rosemary ran her fingertips up the lovely arched spine over
each joint the flesh shivering deliciously.  Lindsey held her position as she
softly stroked her neck under the hair line then over the satin shoulders.
	Slap!
	Rosemary squirmed as the Arab woman's hand lightly admonished her
bottom.	
	"Press close, let her feel your body too.  Then explore her -
everywhere."
	It felt so unnatural for her to press herself against the cool globes of
Lindsey's firm buttocks, but she knew she must.  Likewise she reached around to
cup the jutting breasts, rolling them in her hands feeling the girl tremble, her
nipples firm under her touch.
	Seeing Mrs Leilla look in her direction again, Rosemary continued her
fingertip exploration.  The flat belly quivered as her hands slid down to the
pubic thatch.  When their director nodded impatiently Rosemary took a deep
breath, whispering an apology into the soft neck, and delved below.  She could
feel Lindsey's breath quickening as she stroked the soft ripeness of her sex
lips which were beginning to grow hot and moist.  She could feel her companion's
desire under her fingertips.  The little bud grew to meet her and she circled it
with tiny movements as Lindsey's hips began to judder and squirm uncontrollably.
	"Enough.  Exchange positions."
	Rosemary guessed that Mrs Leilla's order came at an inopportune moment
for Lindsey and the others receiving such attentions.  It was an unfulfilled
cruelty of desire as she was forced to abandon the now willing sex. 
	Rosemary shivered in anticipation.  She assumed the outspread position
and felt Lindsey's pubis brush her bottom.  The girl's boobs pressed against her
back, the nipples like two berries.  Then the cool hands weighed and cupped her
breasts, pressing, circling and tweaking the cones of her nipples between slim
fingers.  When they slid over her belly to her sex she shivered again, her legs
parting slightly as the girl found her waiting clitoris.
	Unconsciously, eyes closed, Rosemary's hips began to gyrate under the
delicious touch.  Guiltily she knew that she wanted those sensitive digits in
her, deep in her, pressing hard against her throbbing morsel of sex.  What had
she become?  She guessed that her experiences and ordeals were forcing her to
accept and even want such a touch - from anyone!  She licked her lips as
Lindsey's fingertips traced lines of wanton abandon into her.
	"Enough.  I'll have no climaxing today sluts."
	Rosemary could willingly have killed the smiling Arab as the hands left
her. Shamefully she even lowered her haunches slightly to keep them for a few
additional precious seconds.
	"Tut, tut, quite the tart eh," Mrs Leilla tapped her shining quivering
flank which yearned for release.  She smiled at Rosemary's grinding teeth,
knowing damn well how much her trainees wanted to continue.  Yet another
torment.  Rosemary sighed frustrated.
  	Full kissing and meeting of mouths was allowed when Rosemary was
partnered by Laura.  She wondered how the young ex-policewoman felt at having to
perform such acts.  She herself, someone who normally enjoyed being in control,
couldn't deny a sense of excitement at doing 'forbidden' things whilst enjoying
a total abdication of responsibility.
	However, the young girl seemed as aroused she herself, her full lips
parted, breathing heavily.  There was indeed an undeniable element of eroticism. 
A gentle and controlled touching without the inevitable rushing gropes, the
thrusting of a rigid sex that most of the women had probably experienced with
men. 
	Their mouths softly opened over each others, tongues circling and
entwining under Mrs Leilla's gaze.  Rosemary's belly quivered.  Tightening her
grip on girl's small neat bottom her tongue curled sensuously around Laura's. 
Eyes misting the youngster seemed to be dreaming, perhaps with memories of a
boyfriend.  Unfortunately, only total concentration was sufficient for their
tutor.
	Slap!
	"Ooh," Laura yelped under the hand across her bottom and the stern voice
telling her to concentrate on her kissing, bringing her back to reality.
	"You hold Trixie's bottom while you kiss, naughty girl," she went on -
"or I'll put you in the punishment book."
	Now Laura was alive in Rosemary's arms, a hot eager body.  She responded
fully to the tongue within her mouth darting and curling with her own.  Sliding
her hands down the curve of the blonde's back she snuggled closer, gripping and
stroking the smooth flexing orbs of her buttocks.  Rosemary bit her lip in
frustration and shame, knowing how much she wanted to make love to and conquer
the writhing pink young body pressing against her.   

	----------------------------


		

	"Now we'll see how good your kissing really is I think," Mrs Leilla
resumed to the three pairs of trainees.  She pointed at Rosemary. "You first
girl.  Walk seductively up to me and give me a deep kiss, wiggle like a tart. 
You others watch."   
	The shame scorched Rosemary's pretty face a bright hue, apprehension
clawing her belly; feeling ridiculous she gyrated woodenly towards her
tormentor.  With parted lips she planted a shy tentative kiss on the woman's
impassive mouth.
	Her humiliation was suddenly multiplied when Mrs Leilla pushed the naked
blonde away from her, delivering a stinging slap.  Gasping with shock and shame
she covered her red, smarting face with shaking hands.
	"Stop snivelling, pull yourself together girl. You do not simply flounce
up to me and brush lips as if I'm some maiden aunt and it's all too much
trouble.  You want to entice me, you want me to f--k you, you want me more than
anything in the world.  You seduce me with little pecks around my face.  Then,
if your entreaties are not rejected you kiss me properly, sliding your body
against me, letting me know you want to be f---ed.  You have to be a whore, not
a silly schoolgirl or a frigid wife with a headache.  Your usefulness and your
future will depend on it.  Now again please."
	Poor Rosemary, a happily married woman with a healthy appetite for sex -
with the opposite sex - was expected to seduce another woman who held absolute
power over her, to her script and in public.  She hesitated trying to get
herself into the correct frame of mind.
	"Hurry up girl or I'll have Miss Wang take some skin off that shapely
backside," she flicked the curve of her victim's bottom, making it contract. "
Your future duties may inevitably require you to be with other women.  Now get
it right."
	Rosemary needed no second bidding.  The thought of that she-devil having
a further excuse to punish her again was stimulus enough.  There was also that
tiny undeniable germ of excitement within her at having to do such previously
unimaginable things without any responsibility for her actions.  Although
normally liking to be in control she wondered if perhaps there was a previously
deeply hidden submissive side to her character?
	Undulating her hips she glided to her tormentor a wicked smile on her
now earnest face before beginning to plant little kisses on the brown pulsing,
scented, throat.  Her fingers traced light circles over the thin hair on the
nape of Mrs Leilla's neck whilst her thumbs rubbed the woman's ears.  Firstly
her lips closed over the woman's soft ears, her tongue darting within.  Now 
they moved slowly towards her mouth, kissing the edges before brushing the
waiting lips, circling them with her tongue, gently prising them apart  Looking
deep into her tormentor's eyes Rosemary pressed the hard tips of her breasts
against the woman letting the furry heat of her loins touch her thighs.
	Like a man, Mrs Leilla opened her mouth to receive the enquiring tongue
their two active organs entwining together, quivering.  Her hand closed over the
peak of one of Rosemary's breasts squeezing it passionately. 
	"Mmm, yes."
	The sigh escaped Rosemary as the woman bent forward to briefly suck one
of her nipples into her mouth, her teeth deliciously nipping the captive morsel.
Finally, she lightly tapped the firm smoothness of the blonde's curvaceous
bottom pushing her away, both women panting slightly.
	"Quite a tigress.  I think you liked that.  A bit of the lesbian in you
perhaps?  If only your husband could see you now girl, see what you do with
other girls," she smiled before turning to the others, ignoring her victim's
red-faced shame.  "Right, pair off and practice those techniques and I'll remind
you that no one comes on the first day. Anyone who gets carried away - gets
punished!"
	The rubbery tip of Kate's breasts rolled gently between Rosemary's
quivering stretching lips as her tongue tickled round the girl's sensitive bud. 
She drew it deeper into her mouth, holding in gently with her teeth, then
releasing it a little to flick with her tongue.  The dark-haired girl's pretty
mouth was similarly kissing and sucking her nipples.  Little slurping sounds
emanated from them as they worked as directed, leaning towards each other, necks
bent, hands resting lightly on shoulders.  Their fingers stroked down lightly
shivering spines whilst their mouths did their work above.  Cupping and stroking
the satin softness of each other's buttocks their fingers delved between the
smooth  flexing globes. 
	They trailed their fingers from the hot moist furriness and over the
eager fleshy, moist lips, their loins soon jointly moving in pleasure.
	"And what's wrong with these?" their eagle-eyed teacher was by their
side.  She held one of Rosemary and Kate's heaving breasts in each hand,
weighing the orbs, manicured fingers sliding over the hard tips.  "Or back
here?," she tapped their flinching buttocks, sliding a finger into each cool
cleft and expertly into the tight puckered heat within.  "Your hands should
neglect no part of your partner's body."
	Wincing, the two continued to grind together with Mrs Leilla's fingers
humiliatingly filling them from behind, stretching, fanning over each pair of
clenching buttocks.
	
		----------------------------------------------

	"Kneel at my feet girl."
	Again Mrs Leilla chose Rosemary to demonstrate, this time oral
expertise. She felt a pang of trepidation as the Arab woman raised her skirt to
expose herself. A twinge of hatred rippled though her as her instructress so
casually removed a beautiful pair of green silken, thong knickers.  It was the
type of exotic garment which she had often worn in the normal world outside but
was now denied her.  A reminder her that she was no longer a part of that normal
world - simply a slave!
	"Closer, get under my skirt little lap-dog, kiss my thighs first - at
the top." From above the cultured husky voice drifted down to the curly blonde
head edging between the brown spread legs, the musky smell invading Rosemary's
flared nostrils.  The rich profusion of the woman's dark curly hair smothering
her pubic region tickled her face as she kissed and licked the perfumed flesh.
	"Not bad, I suppose. You may be expected to do this to a woman, or a man
before licking and kissing his balls.  Today you will use my sex instead. Begin
by using your mouth on the lips of my slit," commanded the voice from above.
"Yes, yes, now move up hmm.   Dart in there with your tongue, right in, that's
it, arghh, good.  Suck the bud in, kiss it, rub it ... rub it you hot bitch, 
ahh, good girl, good girl," the voice had a distinctive waiver to it now and
Rosemary felt the thighs clamping unnaturally around her head, trapping her in a
moist, hot world.  She fought for breath, almost trying to tear herself away. 
"Don't stop, carry on little slut," Mrs Leilla panted, gripping her hair,
pushing her head harder into her wet hairy heat.  "Tongue in, right in, oh, yes,
yes.  Now flick it, chew it, yes oh yeeees."
	She shuddered head thrown back as she climaxed.  Then there was silence
in the room for a minute or so as Mrs Leilla stretched luxuriously ignoring the
six Angles.  Not knowing what else to do Rosemary knelt obediently at the
woman's feet.  Her face, hot and prickly, flushed crimson as the Arab casually
ruffled her hair, as one would  with a dog.  Never had she felt such shame. 
Finally the woman sighed, returning to her charges. 
	"Hmm, not a bad lapping," she announced, pulling on her underwear. "I
think that's maybe not your first time with a woman eh?" She cupped the swinging
breasts of the kneeling girl. " Whoever takes you will enjoy you.  I think
you'll make a good f--k," she laughed at her victim's pretty blushes.
	Before long it was Rosemary's turn to receive pleasure.  She lay back
with splayed thighs supporting herself on her arms watching Laura's rich long
hair bobbing away, feeling the youngster's inexperienced yet active tongue
darting into her.  Her belly flipped.  Under her tutor's direction the tongue
was probing in just the right places, making another warm bubble begin to form
deep within her.  Shamefully, she longed to grab the dark tresses and push the
head harder against her, but she had been forbidden from moving.  Instead, her
fists balled in tension, controlling her surging feelings.  In accordance with
her instructions, Mrs Leilla made each mouth stop when she judged the recipient
was near to her climax.  The yearned-for release of an orgasm was to be only
hers that day.  A privilege to be earned she told them laughingly.

			-------------------------------------------------

	
 
	"Here girl, I need you again," the Arab's face was still diffused with
spent passion when she crooked a finger at Rosemary.  In her othår hand she had
a greased length of rubber about the size and shape of a large metal cigar tube. 
Nervously licking her lips, the blonde walked to her tormentor, swinging her
hips seductively like a tart - as she knew she must. The woman gripped her slim
shoulders, her other hand moving downwards.
	"Ugh, haah," Rosemary gasped stretching up onto tip-toe as the cold tube
was eased into her anus.  In it went, ever deeper, twisting and turning, filling
her unnaturally.  She had a natural aversion to being touched there, but now
simply had to endure the smiling woman's horrid and shameful touch.
	"That's how I want it done for your next exercise.  Grip it tight with
your internal muscles girl, if it drops out you'll be for it, "Mrs Leilla
warned, making Rosemary clench her buttocks desperately."  Pair up again; Dixie
over here so Trixie can plug your little botty."
	Rosemary felt Lindsey's breasts brushing her own heaving with anguish as
she positioned a greased tube between the girl's buttocks.  Her finger delved
between the cool globes seeking the tight rubbery ring before slowly pushing and
twisting the tube into the heat of the Italian's sphincter, overcoming her
natural resistance.  The girl grunted, her fingers tightly gripping Rosemary's 
shoulders as she too was filled.  Beside her the other pairs of Angels now stood
with the stubs of the black rubber plugs protruding rudely from between their
white clenching cheeks.
	"I'll demonstrate how to stimulate your partner."
	"Aah," Rosemary gasped again as Mrs Leilla began moving the static
rubber in her bottom.  At first it felt disgusting, horrible.  However, before
long, the woman's skilled manipulations, sliding in and out, twisting and
turning brought an undeniable sliver of pleasure, no matter how unwanted or
unexpected.
	"In pairs, work with your partners."
	There was silence in the room apart from the occasional gasp and squeal
as they clasped each other, manipulating the plugs in each others' anus.
Rosemary felt stretched as the plug bored deeply and persistently into her
protesting sphincter.  Yet as predicated the stimulation did produce an electric
spark within her.  She could feel Lindsey's breath quickening too as she pumped
the rubber into the gripping resistance of her friend's tight heat.  The perfect
globes of her bottom clenching fetchingly.                   	
	"Enough," Mrs Leilla clapped her hands, smiling as she regarded the nude
figures sporting plugs obscenely from between their beautiful bottoms. "You know
how to give and receive pleasure there.  It could stand you in good stead," she
added.       
	



		------------------------------------------






	Finally these first lessons in love were at an end and the trainees
could don their short dresses for their frugal evening meal eaten in customary
monastic silence.  Then Miss Mitzie handed out poetry texts to each of them
telling them to memorise them because they would be tested within a day or two.
	However, before the weary Angels could even begin to glance at the
texts, the pressure was  increased by the Negress.  She reminded them that
punishment parade would take place in two hours.  Meanwhile, however, she told
them they had cleaning duties with mops and polish to keep the buildings spick
and span.  Briskly she allocated various areas for each of them to attend to.
	Gasping for breath Rosemary knelt with as bucket of hot soapy water and
a hard scrubbing brush cleaning the dirt and booted scuff marks from a corridor. 
She had to ignore the ribald comments from passing guards ogling her bare
jiggling bottom peeking from below the minuscule dress riding on her back. 
Sometimes, accompanied buy much giggling laughter, a boot would lift her still
further dress and prod her bouncing buttocks 
	Tired and hot, her arms were aching, her knees sore.  She wasn't used to
such labours, she employed a maid for several hours a day at home.  And she
guessed that many of the other Angels were similarly unused to such hard and
demeaning domestic chores.  However, they all knew that they would be punished
for not completing their allotted quotas.  Also that if they finished,
satisfactorily, they time might have time to study the texts they had to learn. 
	Somehow Rosemary did manage to finish in time to allow herself a few
minutes of study.  Needless to say though she found that concentration on the
words was not easy whilst quaking in dread of that parade.  By having the day's
punishments inflicted in the evening the tension of anticipation was added.

		-----------------------------------------------


	

    
	"Welcome to the first evening punishment parade Angels," the voice of
the large Negro who had welcomed them echoed in the stillness. "I regret that
discipline is a necessity in a training establishment such as this, but I hope
that by learning from your mistakes so you reduce your own suffering.  I now
hand you over to Miss Mitzie," he decreed, nodding to her. 
	"Thank you Mr Sampson.  Angels remove your dresses and stand back to
attention please," Miss Mitzie's teeth flashed whitely.
	All were lined up in the large gym.  In a gut wrenching formal process
as if they were in court; with everyone's name, faults and decreed punishment
read out by the Negress.  As she stood tense, silent and still Rosemary
marvelled how methodically the regime had been thought out to the last sadistic
detail.  No name was absent from that dreaded punishment book, everything was
recorded.
	Generally minor infringement each warranted one stroke of the cane or
slipper on the bare buttocks.  Those with three or less strokes simply had to
bend over before the assembly to receive them.  Those who had been 'awarded' a
greater number had their wrists secured behind them with the cuffs they
constantly wore and twisted up between their shoulders to be fixed to a ceiling
pulley forcing them to stoop forward immobile for their punishment. 
	It seemed, by virtue of their clash with Mr Ho, that Rosemary and
Lindsey would both receive a worse punishment.  It was called the 'Fancy
Tickler' Miss Mitzie revealed.  However, to add to their ordeal they had to
firstly stand to attention with the others, bellies quaking, whilst the lesser
punishments were carried out; these were conducted one at a time by Mr Ho and on
completion each victim had to bow and thank him.
	The gymnasium soon rang to the sounds of the cane's swish, the creaking
and clanking of the pulley and the various screams and sobs from the victims
followed by a tearful thank you.  The wooden walls absorbed the smell of fear as
the punishments progressed.   Thus it was an hour before the final caning had
taken place.  This had been the dark-haired woman, Slapper.
	Although in her forties the beauty of the woman's body was still evident
as she hung bent over from the pulley the tips of her toes scrabbling to take
her weight.  Her breasts jutted out firmly and below the painful curve of her
back the still-firm buttocks curved outwards to receive eight strokes of the
rod.  Miss Wang had apparently been responsible for many of the reports against
the woman.  She stood just in front of her painfully bound victim, nearly
holding the hanging breasts, which danced in anguish with her every sob, seeming
to drink in the older woman's pain.
	Only when the sobbing woman had resumed her place smartly to attention
did Rosemary and Lindsey find out what awaited them.  The Fancy Tickler
consisted of a tubular ring of metal like a thin toilet seat fixed horizontally
about half a metre from the floor to an upright post on each side.  Rosemary had
to squat on the round hoop the lower portion of her body projecting nakedly
through it towards the floor.  Mr Ho's loving hands fastened a thin cord around
each thigh to hold her immovably to the ring.  Her ankles were fastened wide
apart to ringbolts in the floor exposing blatantly wide her pink intimacy.  The
ceiling pulley secured her wrists, which had been cuffed between her shoulders,
forcing her to lean cruelly forwards, folded.  Two cords attached to her neck
collar then pulled her back the other way - her head held immobile.  
	"Aaghh," she gasped at the strain imposed on her limbs by the cruel
binding looking up with wide eyes at her squat tormentor - finding no pity in
his eyes.  
	On the floor beneath her jutting buttocks he placed an innocuous looking
fly swat with numerous flails.  However, it was fixed onto a powerful catapult
and from which a long crank handle ran.  The swat rested snugly on the polished
floor beneath the most sensitive areas of her exposed body.
	"Having more than 13 faults in punishment book certainly unlucky,"
laughed a smiling Miss Wang.  "That warrant one lash of tickler for every three
faults.  Like others you fail to meet your track quota and had be punished
during love lessons," the evil young girl smiled sweetly at her victims.
"However,  you and Dixie  also both naughty girls, cheeky to Mr Ho when he try
to help you.  Miss Mitzie and I simply not have that."
	Both trembling victims received a glare of confirmation from the
Negress.  They nearly opened their straining mouths to protest at the
unfairness.  However, biting their tongues, they knew that in this regime it
would be quite useless and undoubtedly earn them more punishment.  Fairness was
not a word that existed in the Lavery organisation.  Rosemary's tongue licked
round her dry lips and briefly touched the bug in her tooth.  It gave her
comfort even though she knew she could never live with herself if she called in
the cavalry too soon and before she had found Penny.
	"Thus in total," Miss Wang continued, "Trixie will receive 5 tickles and
Dixie 6.  Please continue Mr Ho," she stepped back as the Chinaman slowly
tightened the elastic, notch by notch with the crank handle.  The Chinese girl
had stepped forward again to stare impassively into her victim's face, ready,
not wanting to waste any drop of the agony which would spill from her glistening
frightened features.
	Sweat was beading on Rosemary's brow.  She could see between her hanging
breasts and curly down, the most sensitive areas of her body splayed openly and
helplessly above the flails.  Her belly flip-flopped and her bowels felt liquid. 
Desperately, uselessly, she tried to close her thighs or shift position. With
each clack as the winch was tightened on the ratchet her toes curled in slippery
sweat in expectation of the pain. 
	She heard a click from beneath her and then her world exploded in a red
mist. 
	"Arrrrggghhhhhh."
	The searing thongs scoured into every nook and cranny of her silken
flesh like red hot pins.  With her head thrown back, pulling painfully on her
pinioned shoulders and collar she screamed out her agony into the smiling face
of the young girl inches from hers.  How she would love to fly at her, scratch
the smirk from her face.  Instead her fists clenched in an agony of frustration
in her bonds.  Muscles corded and knotted, standing out in stark relief against
her softness, she tried again with futility to lift her hindquarters from the
metal ring but still could not move her body an inch. 
	It felt as if burning wires had been drawn right up between her splayed
thighs and up inside her to her belly.  Gasping, her breath hissed through
clenched teeth.  Sagging slightly in her cords, sweat trickled down her back and
into the splayed cleft of her buttocks.  Then she heard the terrible remorseless
sound of the crank being tightened again beneath her.  Desperately she tried to
hold on to her bladder and bowels as she prepared, with eyes screwed shut and
teeth gritted, for the next stroke.
	After her five, Rosemary felt as if she had been made to squat over a
barbecue.  The petals of her sex and the sensitive apex of her thighs were one
tight knot of agony.  The core of her being was a throbbing mass of stinging
pain.  It took Mr Ho two attempts, finally having to slap her face, before she
could mumble out her thanks to him.  Then Miss Wang, an almost kindly arm around
her slippery, heaving shoulders, guided her back to stand once again at
attention whilst Lindsey was punished.  Rosemary felt so weak, swaying several
times, but fear of even greater punishment, and the arms of one of the
fluttering Chinese office staff, kept her in place.  
	Finally it was all over and Miss Mitzie was addressing them again. 
	"You will be pleased to hear that this concludes today's punishment
parade.  You have been given texts to learn and I suggest you do so.  Although
you will be locked in your boxes you can turn the lights on or off whenever you
wish. Many of you are probably wincing a bit," she laughed cruelly through sharp
white teeth. "However have no fear, you'll be as good as new after a night with
your boxes healing rays.  I trust though that lessons have been learned and that
maybe subsequent punishment parades will be shorter."
	There was none in the assembly that did not agree from the bottom of
their hearts.


				------------------------
	

	That evening in her metal coffin the soothing rays wonderfully eased
Rosemary's throbbing burning pain, it was almost a sexual feeling. She spent
some time studying the poetry text she had to learn.  Recollections triggered by
her lesbian experiences that afternoon brought back memories of her college days
and a special relationship with her pretty music teacher.   Having missed a
school lesson, Rosemary - then of a petite 18 years - had to call at her
teacher's house to catch up.  The woman, although in her forties, was good
looking, 'plumpish' but with a certain sensuality.  Her long dark hair, normally
pulled up into a bun was cascading freely.  She had obviously just showered and
greeted her knock in a large towelling bathrobe.  Carelessly, she thought at the
time, her teacher had not fastened the robe properly.  As she played the piano,
seated on the bench next to her, progressively more of one large pendulous
breast swung and jiggled into view with her movements.  It made it more
difficult for her to concentrate.
 	Maybe somehow, the teacher had sensed the crush the pretty blonde
schoolgirl had on her.  Rosemary was ashamed of her thoughts about the woman. 
She knew that her teacher was married but she still found herself wondering
about the colour of her underwear, what she wore in bed, what it would be like
to be kissed by her. 
	When the teacher had exclaimed excitedly how well Rosemary had played
and clasped her in her arms, the young girl had looked down to see a large bare,
red tipped bosom crushed against her school blouse. When, with flushed face and
confused thoughts, she had met the teacher's eyes it was to see a peculiar
expression there. Slowly the teacher had kissed Rosemary's cheek and then the
edge of her mouth, soft warm pecks.  Before she realised it her tutor's robe had
slipped to the floor and she was magnificently naked beside her.  Her body was
an exquisite feast spread for the young girl's delight.
	Gasping eagerly, Rosemary assisted the teacher's hands in removing her
own starched white school clothes until they were both naked, standing facing
each other astride the piano bench.  Tantalisingly, the teacher had insisted
Rosemary complete her lesson.  It was difficult remembering the notes and the
tempo with those long dark hands sliding up and down the curved dip of her spine
and gently stroking the pink tip of her small swaying breasts.  Somehow she
finished though and then they were in each other's arms.  Young and pink melded
and crushed with darker and older flesh.  Assertiveness and experience fed off
beauty and innocence in that long evening, the shadows playing over the groves
and hollows of the two naked bodies which locked and writhed together.  When she
held and clasped her teacher tightly as the woman's hands soaped her nudity
under the shower she thought at the time that this was the person she wanted to
spend the rest of her life with.  However, the dawn of reality inevitably
intervened in the shape of a change of job for the teacher and gorgeous young
college boy for her.  Still she sometimes thought fondly of that, her first,
experience with a woman.  That tenderness possibly unique to two women had
sustained her through many subsequent experiences; maybe it would help her here
too.   


             	                 CHAPTER 7

	

	Rosemary, along with around a dozen other women, were all seated in a
room which intentionally looked and even smelt like a classroom.   They had
already slogged away for several hours during their third day as coolies
relaying those heavy tracks under the eyes of the obnoxious Mr Ho.  More notes
had been made in the punishment book for them not achieving the quota but at
least the track laying was progressing she thought. However, she knew that the
pulling of those heavy trucks in races was yet to come.
	Now though she was amongst those half of the trainees who were to be
given 'schooling'!   The school-like smell of polish was not a surprise to
Rosemary in fact because she recalled how, the previous day she and several
others had to spend back-breaking hours bringing the wooden floor and desks to a
mirror-like shine. 
	Other factors also drew similarities with school.  Firstly, the size of
the tiny desks and chairs.  Also, each beautiful woman was dressed in a
humiliating uniform of a short pleated black skirt with a white blouse - washed
and ironed by other labouring hands - and a pair of ridiculously small frilly
pants which were almost constantly in view above the minuscule skirt.  No bras
were permitted and each pair of breasts was clearly visible through the
see-through material of the blouses. 
	The 'teacher' they awaited would be Miss Wang, her glittering black eyes
like a hawk's in her pretty face.  Although a doll-like girl, any similarities
with a doll were at face value only.   On arrival she would sit relaxed on a
desk at the front, one leg swinging casually over the other beneath a short
skirt.   The girl really, had complete and utter control over her charges and
she used it to the full.  
	The lessons themselves, attended by groups of Angels normally two or
three times a week, were to them, totally irrelevant.  The inconsequential
repetitious learning of ancient Arabic or Chinese poems, sayings or proverbs of
which many Westerners would not previously have heard. 
	"These lessons instill right attitude of mind," Miss Wang would assure
them.  "They enable you converse with grace with those who you serve after
leaving here."
	However, the Angels' gossip rumour factory surmised that film records of
these and other activities around the camp were in great demand amongst
observers at the camp and prospective purchasers, also being sold in a thriving
market for such material.  Whatever the actual purpose the 'lessons' was
irrelevant to the Angels. However, the punishments for failing to perform to the
exacting standards expected, were anything but inconsequential, as Rosemary knew
to her cost!  With trepidation she was aware that the text that she and the
other girls had been given to learn by heart for today's lesson was patchy and
far from committed to memory despite intent studying of it well into the early
hours
	If she herself felt intimidated and humiliated by her present
surroundings how, she thought, must, Slapper, next to her, feel?  Apparently the
older, dark-haired beauty's real name, whispered in precious snatched moments,
was Carol.  Her figure was superb, with little or no fat, large breasts and the
bottom Miss Mitzie had already publicly admired.  Her personality though was
extremely shy and inhibited and this was played on by the demons in control of
them.
	Carol had explained bitterly to Rosemary that her cruel husband had
arranged for her to be sent here after he had caught her having an affair with
another man.  Her husband was spending her money whilst she languished here, her
two grown up children having been told that she had run away with the man!  One
of those children was an adopted Chinese girl from her husband's first marriage
who was older than the young Chinese 'teacher' whose presence they now awaited
with anticipatory dread!  Rosemary understood how that humiliating age
difference of her tormentor, and comparisons with her own step-daughter, must
hurt Carol.
	Time passed.  The tension became unbearable as they awaited their
tormentor all having to assume the same cramped posture. Seated stiffly upright
in their sexy school uniforms, they were wedged into the tiny chairs, arms
folded and legs feet flat on the floor, spaced wide apart.  The white vees of
their knickers were on display beneath the tiny skirts.  Any movement to ease
their positions or speaking was forbidden.  The ever-present cameras around the
place ensured their compliance.
	Hearing a tiny sob, Rosemary's eyes slid sideways to Carol, seeing a
tear trickling down alongside her perfect aquiline nose.  Here was a woman,
nearly old enough to be her own mother.  She could imagine the woman gliding
around elegant cocktail parties in along black dress talking to diplomats or
statesmen.  Instead, she was humiliatingly displayed as a 'schoolgirl.' She
flicked a brief smile of sympathy at the woman before again looking straight
ahead.
	Now, an electric tenseness descended on the waiting women.  Footsteps
could be heard approaching and someone's stomach rumbled nervously in the
silence.  As the door handle slowly descended the tension became almost a
visible presence and Rosemary felt the stab of a rigid contracting muscle across
her shoulder blades.
	The hateful diminutive oriental figure in her short black skirt, strode
briskly into the room.  Immediately the silence was shattered as twelve chairs
were pushed back and twelve trembling women sprang standing to attention.
	"Good afternoon girls."
	"Good afternoon Miss Wang," the assembled lines of misery respectfully
chorused. In reality though, the dearest wish of all of them all was undoubtably
to strangle the hateful little fiend.
	

Miss Wang's sharp features remained inscrutable as she surveyed the sea of
apprehensive, shining faces in the room staring attentively at her.  Her outward
calm concealed two contradictory emotions.  The delicious bubbling joy flowing
like hot wine through her veins at the absolute power she had over the women
with herself being at such a young age.  Secondly her hatred for lazy capitalist
pigs such as these.   She had been brought up since childhood to fight for the
communist cause for which her parents had given their lives under the bomb-bays
of Western aircraft in the Far Eastern jungles. However, with the present
decline in popularity of communism she found herself a rebel without a cause. 
Thus what could be better than carrying on her personal war, or crusade, by
putting these bitches through hell. 
	She particularly enjoyed tormenting the eldest one, Slapper.  Not only
did the woman, unknown to her, have a connection, an unfortunate one, with the
current man in her life, she also reminded Wang of the age her own mother would
have been had she been allowed to live.  Then her small oriental eyes shifted
across to the tousled blonde figure of Trixie - another woman in whom she might
have a future interest.       
	Behind Miss Wang entered a thin, balding slightly nervous looking man in
a long coat, he was of Western appearance, aged probably somewhere in his
fifties.  His small eyes hidden behind pebble glasses shifted nervously around
the room hardly settling anywhere and the tip of his tongue constantly flicked
around his thin lips.  Rosemary instantly summed him up in her view as a man
typical of those who would frequent the more seedy areas of Soho. The girls knew
though that prospective purchasers or observers who could afford it could visit
the camp's activities.  This creature would, she appreciated bitterly, have his
eyeful of lush femininity under intense humiliating discipline!   The girls knew
that it was not wise to look directly at anyone unless told, thus not to attract
unwarranted attention.  However, each girl who did inevitably flick her eyes
briefly at the man wondered with sinking heart whether she was destined to serve
out her remaining parole with such a creep and to be at his mercy?
	"Let me introduce today's observer," Miss Wang announced breezily, "we
call him Mr Smith.  However, you will, as customary, ignore his honourable
presence from point of view of this lesson.   Please be seated here Mr Smith,"
Miss Wang continued, pointing to a comfy chair behind her square desk at the
front.  Smiling nervously, the man seated himself before the class, only his
upper body being visible."  Feel free to walk around at will," she added to him
before turning to the class.
	Miss Wang pointed rudely at a beautiful woman with shoulder length
blonde hair.  Rosemary understood that Linda had apparently been a hairdresser
in England before running foul of an Arab in the Hilton hotel and accepting his
invitation to start a business in this terrible country. After being tempted in
some set-up situation she had been caught by the police and paid the price with
Lavery.  	Linda visibly paled, gulping under the finger pointing almost
accusingly at her.
	"Snipper, you shall be table monitor today, lay out the books.  You
others may sit.  What do you say slut?" she queried menacingly when there was no
reply from the blonde.
	"Sorry M-miss, thank you Miss," stumbled Linda controlling a brief flash
of anger across her pretty face presumably at being spoken to thus by a girl
several years younger than herself.  Undoubtedly too she didn't relish the
attention of being monitor but was relieved that she was not to be punished.
	She scurried about laying out the books on the desks including those
occupied by Miss Wang and Mr Smith.  The latter almost salivated at the pert
roundness of her bottom and the flashes of white knickers as she moved around
bending and scampering.  Finally, with shaking fingers, and after first kissing
the polished wood as instructed, she placed Miss Wang's wicked black cane, long,
thin and flexible, in exactly the required position on her tormentor's desk.
Then she made to return to her seat but Miss Wang had other ideas.
	"I sense some insolence just now, Western bitch, which need be knocked
out of you as soon as possible.  Hands out palms upwards before desk please.  If
you pull away you get more."
	Cheeks red with initial rage and then shame, the beautiful woman
complied obediently, trying to ignore the intense eagerness of Mr Smith as she
held out trembling hands to the Chinese girl in the humiliating position
required. 	
	Swish!
	"Aahhh."
	Linda flinched but managed somehow to resist a natural impulse to snatch
her throbbing hand away. 
	Swish!
	"Oooh, ouch."
	The cane cracked down twice on each palm to leave thin red stripes of
pain before the blonde, blinking back tears with wet fringed eyes, was
instructed to curtsey before resuming her seat and refolding her arms in common
with the other girls.
	"Yesterday you had privilege of studying thoughts of learned 17th
century thinkers from China," the vixen announced sweetly. " I hope you learned
them thoroughly.  As Snipper already warmed up she now stand and recite first
six lines."
	Panic washed over the blonde's face as she stood to attention, breasts
bouncing under the watchful gaze of Miss Wang and Mr Smith.  She looked at the
far ceiling of the room to collect her thoughts.
	"You no gain inspiration by looking up there girl, maybe your tits too
heavy - weighing on mind," Miss Wang spoke with a cruel grin. "If you no begin
on count of three you remove your blouse, also earning one stroke in punishment
book.  Begin; one, two."
	"I-I have journeyed far in search of ... of," her cultured voice
faltered, her terrified eyes bored into the unhelpful ceiling as the pressure
blanked out her mind.
	"Blouse off please and continue - stupid whore," her tormentor ordered.
	Clumsily the blushing woman slipped off her blouse to let her breasts
swing free like two melons. 
	Mr Smith, licking his thin lips leant forward in the chair.  Rosemary
guessed that Linda would have give anything to cover her orbs but knew that was
forbidden.  With hands by her side, her face a picture of tension, she managed
to hesitantly struggle through those first six lines.
	Miss Wang's curt nod was her only reward. She curtsied and sat down. 
	Any clothing removed stayed off for the lesson's duration and when Linda
folded her arms, her large red nipples brushed her wrists.  She again spaced her
legs apart in the regulation manner.
	"Slapper, continue with next six lines."
	Anxiously working her mouth Carol stood.
	"Divine, providence has given me" no, no sorry Miss," Carol stumbled and
hesitated, eyes darting desperately.   "It's ... it's, a man from a far off ...
."
	"Slapper!"   Miss Wang abruptly rose, clutching her cane and striding
menacingly towards the woman,  "I think your mind is far off.  You ruin great
work of art.  Are you f---ing thick," she snapped the last words in time to her
cane lashing Carol's desk, making her flinch.
	"Sorry Miss," she whispered the only possible response, "I'll try again
and ..."
	"You do precisely as I say girl," snapped the youngster grabbing Carol's
quivering chin, "not as you think.  Strip naked. Stand in front of desk hands on
head.  See if removing clothes remove impediments to lazy thought process. 
Move!"
	The girl stood inches before her as Carol removed her last vestiges of
'civilised' trappings, her final protection and covering against the world,
folding each garment neatly over the chair.  Clasping her hands behind her head
her soft breasts thrust upwards, straight at Mr Smith.  In addition to the
bright redness of her face within the margin of her long black hair, her naked
flesh had several red flushed patches as a testament to her inner shame.
	"I know you like standing undressed, flashing yourself girl," Miss Wang
mocked her near-weeping victim.
	Watching the gamut of emotions washing over Carol's face Rosemary could
imagine her feelings.  It was bad enough undressing publicly, but the shame was
multiplied when you stood alone before others who were fully dressed.  That had
apparently been the woman's introduction to Lavery.   She recalled the woman, in
the whispered exchanges of confidences, relating how, whilst on holiday in
Hassan, she had been picked up for interrogation by faceless people. 
	Strolling in a park Carol had apparently picked up a magazine from where
it lay on the park bench where she was due to meet her husband.  Suddenly men,
big purposeful men with guns and uniforms, had appeared from everywhere and
deftly handcuffed Carol's wrists behind her.  They all ignored her please and
cries of protest as, accompanied by a uniformed policewoman she was thrown into
the back of a van.   Immediately a smelly black hood was pulled over her head
and the woman screamed at her to shut up.
	It was an endless journey in virtual silence.  Finally she was pulled
blindly out by unseen hands to stumble into the cool of a building and down
numerous steps with the chill seeming to increase, together with her fear, with
every downward step into the bowels of the earth.
	Then a harsh voice had told her to stop and the hood was snatched from
her face.
	"Please, look, why have you brought me here?  I haven't done any ...  ."
	"Shut it," interrupted the hatchet faced policewoman . "We do not have
to justify our actions to anyone - least of all you.  I suppose it was sheer
coincidence that you picked up that magazine and you had no knowledge of the
drugs hidden within it," she had demanded?
	Pleading ignorance was, Carol had discovered, totally useless.  Within
minutes she had been stripped naked and the woman's cold hands had explored and
intruded in every cavity of her body - shiny with sweat despite the subterranean
cold.  Then, still nude, she was hustled into a large room.  It was empty apart
from a high stool and a large mirror on one wall surrounded by surveillance
cameras, lights and microphones. 
	They had made her stand naked, straight and painfully on tiptoe, with
her hands clasped on her head answering every question thrown at her from the
owner of an unseen voice from behind a mirror.  Her frenzied mind was filled
with fear, humiliation and shame.  With her voice echoing strangely in the empty
room, answering questions about her bank accounts and finances, everything
seemed so unreal.  Could she really be standing nude, hands clasped on her neck
afraid to move, her bare toes aching intolerably from the enforced posture
holding her entire weight, shifting uneasily on a cold concrete floor?  
Everything seemed unreal except the crack of the wet towel across her back or
bottom if she refused to answer, hesitated or tried to move from her cramped
posture.  The woman, her only companion in the large room, stood behind her. The
horrid creature's arm was strong and her aim good. 
	She had apparently stood thus all afternoon talking herself horse.  Then
her husband arrived, with several other people - from Lavery.  She had to remain
naked, whilst they were fully dressed.  They all stood around her whilst they
explained they would spare her a twenty year prison sentence for smuggling drugs
if she signed the papers consigning herself to Lavery for a period of parole.  
Afterwards, instead of the tearful reunion she expected with her husband, he had
seemed to be on their side.  The guard had remained standing behind her, lashing
her bottom if she tried to move from her position, whilst her husband touched
her crudely, shamelessly.  He explained how he had discovered her affair, had
arranged the set-up, and would now spend her inherited money 'wisely' whilst she
was away.

	"Slapper." Rosemary's surmising was interrupted by Miss Wang's sharp
voice bringing her back to the present, addressing the woman.
	She cringed as Carol tried again with the poem, her efforts not assisted
by the cane tapping lightly against her bottom with every stumbled word.  Again
her recital was unsuccessful.
	"Enough!" Miss Wang glared angrily at her flinching victim, you too
f___ing dense to get any more right.  I note punishment book. Remain standing, 
Trixie will continue after your fourth line."
	Anxiously clearing her throat, Rosemary obediently stood, nervously
shaking her blonde hair from her face, her breasts bouncing softly under the
blouse.  
	"I dream of mountains filled with fire, lakes of ice which ... which ...
," stabbing fear lanced into her belly as her mind went blank.  The pressure was
too much.  She was lost.  Those illusive words had danced out of her mind.  The
Chinese girl stood right before her, smiling wickedly her cane prodding her
breasts, making them jiggle.
	"You worse than Slapper.  Strip - everything," she demanded.
	Her face hot and flushed, Rosemary removed her clothes and stood with
her hands on head trying to ignore Mr Smith's hot eyes boring into her.
	"Haaah," she yelped in pain as the cane slapped one of her sensitive
orbs.  Although her hands sprang from her neck in a futile attempt to protect,
and rub the pain away from, her throbbing boob she replaced them under the
girl's icy glare.
	"You no move."
	Crack!
	"Please," winced Rosemary sobbing as the cane flicked her other fruit
but this time just managing to hold her position.
	"Punishment book for you girl, but I also think you need reminder not to
touch yourself there." She turned to the figure seated at the front of the
class.  "Mr Smith, those clips holding papers on my desk?  That right. Maybe
bring here please, help me with this discipline."
	Rosemary wanted to shrink away as the podgy sweating creature eagerly
sidled up holding two 'bulldog' clips, his fleshy lips decorated with specs of
spittle. 
	 "Please to hold Trixie's breasts, push out her nipples so I put clip
on, then perhaps she remember not to touch them."
	Swallowing deeply, steeling herself not to shrink away, Rosemary
shuddered as the hot, moist hands held each breast, stretching it painfully then
gleefully rubbing the rubbery tip to an unwanted hardness.  The creep taking was
free liberty with a woman's most precious, most intimate fruit, making her feel
despoiled, sick.  She imagined Miles or Damien bursting into the room and
punching in the creeps ugly sweating face, even imagining doing so herself.  She
knew she was quite capable of it.    However, that was the just a dream.  The
reality was not so pleasant.  Obediently she kept her hands in place, the
posture thrusting out her orbs enticingly before him.
	"Haaaah."
	She winced as the Chinese youngster carefully closed the serrated jaws
around her swollen bud.  It felt as if many hot, sharp pins had been thrust into
her, temporarily driving out any concerns about the perverted lechers obscene
hands on her body.  A supreme effort of will kept her hands clasped to her neck
as they handled her other boob before the excruciating pain bit into her. 
	Although not wanting to cry before her tormentors, tears misted her eyes
at the sight of the two black clips dangling painfully from each distended orb. 
She longed to rip the sharp teeth from her flesh, ease the throbbing pain, but
knew that no such option was realistically open to her.  She must just absorb
and accept it.   Then she too had to stand, naked at the front of the class
beside Carol.   
		
	
Miss Wang looked almost contemptuously at Mr Smith.  His eyes were devouring
Rosemary.  He must, she thought, feel that he had gone to heaven.   She
understood that he had won a lottery, given up work and gradually expanded his
contacts in several mail order clubs before finding Lavery.   Watching his
nervous yet excited face she imagined that he would probably never have dreamt
of being surrounded by so much feminine beauty.  These women would, if his gaze
had so much as lingered on them in the world outside, have scorned or dismissed
him.  Now they were his to drool over.
	Having been made, on various pretexts, to remove their erotic uniforms,
which in any case, left little to the imagination, all of the girls were now
naked.  His imagination would have had even less work to do.  Their lush breasts
and bottoms curved and bounced before him as she had them do PT - to limber up
their minds she said.  At this point in the lesson she had already applied the
cane to those rounded limbs, in addition to making reports in the dreaded
punishment book.  Thus, most tender breasts, thighs or bottoms carried red lines
of torment. 
	It must, she thought, be even worse for the blonde bitch, Rosemary.  In
addition to the humiliation of bending and stretching before the creep, the
clips still swung painfully, like little crabs, from her distended boobs making
her wince with greater pain. Now Smith's eyes seemed to be mesmerized by the
sight of the coloured secret entrances normally hidden between the blonde's legs
but now totally exposed as she lay on her back thighs splayed performing bicycle
movements. However, Miss Wang decided she was slacking.
	"Aahh."
	She smacked the sensitive upturned inner thighs, the painful sound
echoing around in the small room.  Following Miss Wang, Mr Smith turned to Carol
and Linda.  Both the dark-haired and blonde beauties had a natural
sophistication, both were also modestly shy and conscious of their nudity before
him.  The expression on Mr Smith's red face was a picture for the Chinese fiend. 
She hated men such as him almost as much as she did these Western women who had
fallen into her clutches.  Watching in disgusted amusement, she saw his hand
moving in his pocket as he so obviously drank in their torment and the sheen of
effort covering their chiselled features.  
	Carol and Linda were having to continually touch their toes with legs
well astride to reveal delightful feminine tufts peeking from the sex lips
nestling in the shadows between the spheres of their rounded bottoms.  The old
trainer-shoe which Linda had to herself fetch from Miss Wang's cupboard in her
mouth, flashed down once, twice, three times, all on virtually the same spot,
the sensitive area where her buttock cheeks curled under to meet the upper
thigh.  How she shrieked, sniffing back tears as the trainer now cracked across
Carol's taut curves.
	Mr Smith's hand pressed harder into his pocket as he turned back to
Rosemary's bare pumping limbs and the delicious flashes of mauve furry flesh
between them.  She closed her eyes, in disgust at his subtle movements, sweat
pooling on her straining face.
	Rosemary was uncomfortably aware of her full bladder, as were no doubt
many of the others, after several hours in that now hot and stuffy classroom. 
An additional refined cruelty invented by Miss Wang was that the girls who were
due afternoon lessons were not allowed to use the lavatory after their morning's
labours.  Thus most were feeling to some extent or other the effects on their
bladders.  They knew, however, that the lesson was not over yet.  If too many
mistakes were earned, and punishments thus required, it would last longer still. 
However, to ask permission to, shamefully, use a galvanised bucket at the front
of the classroom before the class earned a penalty of five strokes of Miss
Wang's trainer.   If a girl wet herself, however, she received ten strokes of
the cane.  Most girls tried to hold out, tried to concentrate on the lesson even
whilst towards the afternoon's end a portion of their minds was fighting to
ignore the burning pain in their bellies.
	The sensible ones chose to only drink a minimum to slake their thirst
after laying the tracks in the morning, trying to avoid the need to release it
in the afternoon.   Crossing of legs was neither permitted nor a practical
proposition.  They could only exercise control to hold themselves back, the
clenching of fists and their bare toes being signs of the inner torment some
might be experiencing. To add to their discomfort, on past performance, they
guessed that the lesson would last an hour more yet. 
	The unfortunate young Sloane-Ranger, Elaine, had been unable to hold out
and had been forced to use the toilet before the entire class.  Now,
interrupting the lesson and wasting time, they all stood before her as she bent
over, touching her toes, her lithesome body folded over to await Miss Wang's
trainer. 
	The horrid creep, Smith was standing between Rosemary and Lindsey.  He
had a hot clammy arm around each of their slim waists, a hand resting casually,
familiarly on their flinching bottoms as he watched the young girl being caned. 
His fingers tightened on Rosemary's flesh every time the girl screamed under the
trainer's fiery bite.  Then he flicked the clip still swinging daintily from her
nipples making her breath hiss with pain.  A week ago she would have slapped his
stupid glasses off his sweaty face, now she simply had to endure. 
	The horrific thought went through her mind that perhaps Mr Smith might
be the one who would subsequently select her - that he would be her keeper or
master for the duration of her penance.  Perhaps he already had Penny locked
away somewhere? She speculated uselessly, shuddering.
	A few more exercises followed, bending stretching, bouncing, making
Rosemary even more conscious of her bladder, but it was a further ten minutes
before she could sit down, clenching her muscles as the next lesson began.  This
was Arabic, for which Mrs Leilla drilled them in some basics of the spoken
language. 
	Luckily, the Arab woman was an easier taskmistress than Miss Wang, who
took a break.  Also, the simple words were fairly easy to learn and chant back
parrot fashion. The worst aspect for Rosemary was the nagging ache in her
bladder as the lesson dragged inevitably on.  It was more an exercise in control
with the full red lips of many of the girls compressed by sharp white teeth,
testifying to a similar torment.  Crossing and squeezing her thighs would have
helped but they had to sit with legs blatantly wide so that a row of pink hair
fringed lips winked at the horrid red faced and sweating Mr Smith. Finally
though the lesson was complete, but their torment wasn't.
	The final lesson, in posture began with Miss Wang returning and telling
the girls that they were previously too comfortable sitting in those small hard
chairs.  Rosemary gave a silent groan, tightening her belly as she clambered up
onto the desk, thighs necessarily gaping to maintain her balance.
 	Mr Smith leaned forward attentively as the girls squatted on their
desks, thighs splayed wide and quivering to reveal their womanly secrets to his
eager eyes.   Rosemary guessed that he had probably never seen such a display of
pink gaping flesh in his life!  He seemed to drink in the looks of anguish and
pain on each pretty face as they maintained their awkward balance swaying on the
balls of their feet, their knotted and cramped thigh and calf muscles aching for
release.  Meanwhile, Miss Wang strolled casually before her charges, ensuring
they kept their posture.
	"Snipper, head up, back straighter, you no a monkey," she laughed at
Linda's discomfort as she forced her posture straighter, before moving onto to
Rosemary.
	"You OK Trixie?" she enquired solicitously, her small eyes inches from
the blonde's straining face.
	"Yes Miss, thank," you Rosemary gasped.
	"Good. Men or women you eventually serve may require you kneel or crouch
for long time at feet, holding drinks or ashtrays or waiting instructions.  You
must be able to hold posture for long time, not think about toilet, hold in,
yes. You thank me later," she smiled, stroking the hair back from Rosemary's
shining face, tapping the taut belly.  Her eyes were slits of cruelty as she
idly flicked the clips still painfully adorning her nipples, so obviously
relishing the gritted-teeth gasp from her victim.  Sliding her hand down the
painfully arched back she patted taut curve of the blonde's bottom before
returning to her seat to chat to Mr Smith.  
	Finally, their ordeals nearly at an end, each girl had to line up
holding their discarded clothes above their heads.  They then had to kiss Mr
Smith goodbye and curtsey to Miss Wang.
	"You be good enough to remove her clips please," the youngster asked Mr
Smith, "I sure she thank you.
	"Haah, Rosemary gasped, catching her breath from the slimy kiss as his
sweaty, clumsy fingers finally removed the hideous clips sending blood surging
painfully back into her bruised morsels of flesh. "Thank you," she whispered
dutifully before gratefully marching from the room.  The smell and touch of the
pervert's hot hands on her but all of her energies were concentrated on holding
herself in. 
	Relaxation only came when she was able to squat in blissful release over
one of the small toilets in the row, hearing and seeing similar performances
from the other Angels.
      
     
 
TO BE CONTINUED

		THE SEARCHER  /  CAMP OF ANGELS - PART 5



	

                         CHAPTER 8


     
	The large brown body was laid out before Rosemary like a forbidden feast
of muscle, sinew and shadow.   She had been attending for the last hour or so
one of the lessons in love techniques and her group was with Mr Garth.   As
usual, the morning had been spent on the track, which was nearly laid.  They
were getting more experienced and thus faster and had very nearly made their
quota.  Still fresh in Rosemary's mind, however, was a delay when one of the
observers had strolled over to them whilst their team was recovering between
bouts of rail-laying. They had all stood smartly to attention before the tall,
well built woman seemingly in her fifties with long blonde hair.  	When she
stood directly before Rosemary it was apparent that there was something
'different' about this observer.  She realised that the eyes devouring her were
not female!
	"Your name child," the voice was low and cultured, slightly masculine.
	"Trixie, Miss," whispered Rosemary, uneasy under this scrutiny.    
 	"Come with me a minute Trixie I want to show you something,"  'she'
murmured, "you others remain standing to attention she'll be back soon."
	She had cringed and shuddered as the large hand closed over hers and led
her like a child behind a clump of nearby bushes.  She was halted facing the
parody of a woman whose hand placed hers up and under the long skirt she wore. 
She felt a male hardness pressing, throbbing against her.
	"Surprised huh?" whispered the husky voice?
	"Yes Miss, er S-sir," Rosemary was frightened, not knowing what to say.
	"Hmm, you're quite a cute little package girl, I'm going to have some
photos taken with you," the man added. He summoned a similarly dressed friend
over and the other observer took many snapshots.  Rosemary had to press her lush
nudity against the apparently female body.  In some shots she was kissing,
looking up admiringly, and in others, sitting seemingly carefree and smiling on
the broad lap, like lovers in the countryside.  In every shot the hot hands
crawled over her nudity.  Then the two observers swapped places behind the
camera and Mark was summoned.  The other 'woman's' preference was seemingly for
men and pictures in a similar vein were taken with the male Angel as the
compliant victim. 
	Thankfully Miss Mitzie strolled across and tactfully suggested that the
team's 'break' was now over and they should be working again. 
	Now, however, the morning's physical exercise was replaced by another
torment.   All of their bodies were covered in a film of sweat from their
activities and carried several red handprints where Mr Garth had been
dissatisfied with them at various times.  No longer in his customary fatigues he
was now as naked as his six charges.  However, although in his natural state
alongside them, the differences  between them showed in their body language. 
His power was just the same.  He was still their instructor and had authority
over them.  They stood stiffly and respectfully to attention as he strutted
casually before them obviously aware that their eyes were instinctively drawn to
the long thick penis swinging before him. It reminded them of the trunk of a
baby elephant.  Barely erect as it was, it would still put most men to shame.     
	He stopped by young Laura, who immediately assumed an even greater
alertness and rigidity. 
	"Stick those tits out when I stand before you girl," he ordered seeing
her immediately thrust her small pear shaped orbs towards him.  "I'm big eh,
bigger than anything you've ever seen I bet," he smirked?
	"Yes Sir," she girl answered respectfully as his large brown hands
casually weighed and fondled her ripe breast fruit.
	"You may hold it, stroke it," he commanded.   The girl's slim hand
tentatively reached out to enfold the large pipe of flesh twitching and growing
somewhat under her small fingers.
	"On your knees and kiss it," he ordered.
	Rosemary guessed that he would know from her record that Laura had
Jewish ancestry and it obviously gave him an added satisfaction to see one of
his country's sworn enemies grovelling thus.  Her head, dark hair cascading onto
her slim white shoulders, bobbed below his scornful eyes and he felt her hot wet
mouth working on him.   He would know she must hate it - but also knowing she
had no choice. After a while he prodded one of her jiggling breasts with his
toe.
	"That'll do cock-sucker, you seem to have remembered some of the
techniques I was showing you earlier."  He ran his hands through the silken
stands of her hair as she still knelt before him.  "This will all need to be
shaved off soon.  The person who has tentatively asked for you to serve him
requires you bald I gather.  A shame in a way," he said casually as a far from
casual look of horror swept over the girl's face.  He ordered back to the line
of attentive beauty.
	"Right, next exercise, woman to woman," he clapped his hands.  A tear
trickled down Laura's round cheek as she stood back in line.  
	Now Rosemary and Carol were paired up.  The older woman had a dildo
strapped on and was busily and energetically pumping her loins between
Rosemary's splayed thighs.  Rosemary urgently clasped Carol's smooth back and
tight thrusting buttocks, running her fingers through the long dark hair.  They
exchanged deep passionate kisses, moaning softly above the lapping sounds of
their liquid passion.  
	"Ah, ooh, oooh, mmm," her hips jerked wantonly under Carol's pumping
thrusts.
	Mr Garth peered closely as Rosemary, with an arching quivering back,
gasped out her orgasm.  Seemingly satisfied with the genuine nature of the
climax he ordered them to reverse roles before strolling off to check on another
couple.
	It felt so strange for Rosemary, kneeling between Carol's spread thighs,
the black rubber dildo jutting towards her wondrous hair-fringed mauve delights.  
Both of their bodies were still covered in the sheen of passion from their last
encounter as she lay on top of the older woman, pressing their breasts together,
feeling the sharp peaks beneath hers.   Gingerly, unaccustomedly, she lined up
the protrusion at the ripe portals of Carol's sex before slowly easing forward,
hearing her tense and then gasp as the rubber slowly sank in.  The eager mouth
sought her own as her hips began pumping.  Remembering Mr Garth's instructions
to Carol, she reached down to grasp a cheek of her smooth, firm clenching bottom
in each hand, using it to aid her thrusts. 
	Carol's hands had now turned to talons down her back as her body bucked
and jerked under hers. Her tongue greedily invaded her mouth, just as her finger
similarly probed her anus. Understanding Rosemary's aversion to such a touch,
Carol only delved lightly into the sphincter until Mr Garth's next inspection.
	"In deeper girl, you know men like it there," he chastised, taking her
hand, making her push in deep, making Rosemary squirm uncomfortably.
	Next Rosemary had to kneel before the standing woman, clasping her
bottom, giving a second orgasm with her tongue.  Carol's sex was already hot and
sticky from the dildo but Mr Garth insisted she lick deeply and thoroughly, the
wiry pubic hair tickling her nose.
	"It's important that you can willingly use your mouth on a another woman
whether she dry or wet.  You must give pleasure on demand," he advised
solicitously. 
	Soon Carol came again, her hips jerking wildly in Rosemary's embrace.  
Then the positions were again reversed.  Rosemary's legs quivered as the
kneeling Carol's tongue and lips pleasured her deliciously, leaving her weak.
	The six hot, sticky Angels were lined up before Garth, chests heaving.
	"Now you're all warmed up - for my next demonstration," he pointed at
Rosemary, " you may massage me from neck to knees - you others watch carefully."
	He settled himself on the floor on his belly, folding his massive arms
as a pillow for his head on one side so that he could see the line of rigid
figures looking on attentively just as they must.
	The blonde knelt beside him.  In one movement he reached out to slap a
broad hand hard across one of her white thighs leaving a large red imprint.  She
gasped, looking at him with wide frightened, confused eyes.
	"You do not just get down beside me you stupid bitch, you kneel astride
me straddle me, your hands manipulating me and your whole body caressing mine."
	He sighed, as the warmth of her inner thighs slid down either side of
him.  Her pubic down softly brushed his muscled rump as she leaned forward.  The
hard tips of her breasts trailed up and down his spine as her hands began
kneading the hardness of his shoulder muscles.  She felt and smelt good, her
hair, her body her sexual scent from previous endeavours.  Needing little
initial direction, her hands pummelled, her fingers rubbing into him eliminating
any tenseness. 
	"Begin kissing and licking my neck."
	He sighed contentedly as her soft warm mouth pressed against his tense
flesh, feeling the hard tips of her breasts brushing his shoulders.  This one
was a real catch decided.	Now he directed her to move down to his rump and
soon felt nearly the entire length of her soft body on top of him.  Her swaying
breasts continued to rub against him as he ordered her fingers to probe between
his buttocks and into his anus.       
	"Fingers deep in there girl, delve, twist them. You've been finger
f---ed  there yourself now you do it to a man.  Kiss the cheeks, lick between
them."
	He sensed the slight hesitation, knowing she would be steeling herself
to obey.  Knowing that she had no choice simply added to his pleasure. He was in
heaven as her hot quick tongue darted into him, her hands manipulating the
muscles of his legs.  Despite his normal ability to control himself, he could
feel it was time to change tack or risk being unable to give the others the
benefit of his arousal.  This Western woman was sex on legs; he envied her
husband.
	"Other side now," he ordered, turning onto his back.
	Now he could actually see her quivering, swaying beauty as her hands
pressed down onto his chest, rubbing his nipples - which were nearly as erect as
her own pink buds. They created little electric circles of desire within him. 
He saw her eyes widen at the now erect length of him sticking up like a flagpole
from the black furry jungle of his groin.  It rose perpendicular like a
periscope beyond her navel, its root nestling against the dainty blonde strands
of her pubic hair.  Gradually her hands worked down over his flat belly towards
it until she was deftly sliding them up and down the shaft, her pink tongue
licking over her full red lips in anticipation.  In common with most Angels at
this point of their training he knew she was hot for him.
	"You may touch the tip with your tongue - just tickle it a little."
	She changed position to lower her lips to his huge erection.  Garth lay
back enjoying both the feel of her hot wet tongue flicking his throbbing glans
and also the sight of her head over his groin, her bobbing hair just tickling
him.
	"You may take it all into your mouth, slide it up and down a few times
and suck hard," he commanded.
	In addition to the previous pleasures was added the little slurping
sounds as her mouth worked on him avidly, sliding up and down. 
	"Enough, don't get too carried away little whore," he eventually barked. 
In reality he knew it was he who should heed that warning. "Not too bad I
suppose - you'll improve with training," he added dismissively trying to play
down her sensual expertise.  It didn't help discipline or training if a girl to
felt she was too good.  "You may squat astride me, give me a few quick pumps."
 	She needed no second bidding, pushing back to squat over him on the
balls of her feet, her sex lips pouting.  Without hesitation she lowered her
haunches to impale herself with a squish.  He twitched as her velvet heat
enveloped him like a tight wet glove and she began bouncing up and down, eyes
half closed and her breasts dancing wildly with her rapid movements.  The mauve
slash of her sex lips beneath the soft down pouted as he flicked her nipples.
	"Enough now," he tried to disguise the croak of lust in his voice,
ordering her off after a few thrusts.  His penis glistened from her juices and
the moistness of her sex as she reluctantly raised her haunches. The frustration
was etched into her wide green eyes. " I think it's ... your turn," he snapped
his fingers at Linda, the blonde hairdresser. "On your back, legs high and wide,
spread up behind your ears," he brusquely ordered.
	His erection quivered in excitement as the beauty immediately lay down
to assume the undignified yet erotic position.  Her pretty face flushed as she
lay back raised and parted her legs to allow the ripe lips of her sex to pout
enticingly at him from within their furry fringe.  The rosebud of her puckered
ring practically winked at him below.  Looking round at the others, he casually
slapped her taut buttocks, temporarily leaving her in the most exposed position
possible for a woman.
	"I think I'll first have you all exercise control together," he decided.
"Michelle, Nancy,"  he pointed to the two male trainees, " flat on your backs,
hands on your heads." As they obeyed, their arousal from the scenes enacted
around them was quite obvious. "You two," he pointed to Carol and Lindsey, kneel
astride them, keep your hands on your heads too."
	The two beautiful women padded softly across to the prone figures,
Lindsey straddling Mark, leaving Carol to sink onto the blonde youth, Nancy. 
The faces of the two women were tight with apprehensive tension as a stiff
erection jutted up before their parted thighs to touch each quivering belly. 
Garth, smiled inwardly, he could imagine the feelings of the men as, forbidden
to use their hands, the warm, soft, furry nest of each beautiful woman settled
on their upper thighs. 
	"Remember this is an exercise in control," Garth declared. "You boys
will use your fingers for a few moments on your partner to get them as warmed up
as you two obviously are.  Girls, keep your hands on your heads," he instructed
the two kneeling figures.
	Garth could appreciate the lust tearing at men as they stroked and
probed the ripe sex lips of the women kneeling on them.  They would feel the
kiss of the silken flesh touching them, their warmth building, erections
throbbing - yet forbidden to use them.  The women would need little stimulation
though.  He knew from past experience that by just watching, and being involved
in, such activities during the long afternoon lessons brought most women to a
state of arousal anyway.  Lindsey and Carol now had their eyes closed, their
hips beginning to gyrate their hips under the manipulations of the fingers.
	"Enough! Hands back on heads Nancy and Michelle," he ordered as the
women slumped in frustration, biting their lips. "Now ladies, kneel up and take
them into you - right in, then remain still, hands back on head."
	They raised their haunches, slim fingers closing around throbbing roots,
guiding them between their pouting sex lips and slowly sinking back down.  The
mouths of all four participants gaped as soft warm flesh enclosed the hard
spears of desire.  Their hands were white bands of tension as they longed to
leave their necks to caress and hold their partner, to assist loins aching for
release.
	"Control is important, you do not come before your new owners unless
they tell you to.  So, whilst Nancy and Michelle remain still, you ladies,
without using your hands will give three long thrusts of your butts, then remain
still until I tell you.  Then three more; I shall know if anyone comes - and
that person will go into the punishment book. Begin."
	It was an exercise in refined sexual torment.  Garth knew the tortured
expressions crossing each of their four faces, gaping mouths, tongues circling
lips, eyes screwed shut, spoke volumes. The men longed to sit up, clasp the
buttocks straddling them, thrust up deeper into the liquid heat enclosing their
manhood, kiss the arousal on each pretty, wanton face.  The women would want to
lean forwards pumping their loins to rub the root embedded in them against the
bud lying neglected between their love lips, caress the muscular chest, kiss the
mouth awash with desire, consummate the passion threatening to burst their
veins.  Instead, fists clenched whitely, they all had to perform under the
orchestration of the grinning Arab. 
	"No more moving, hold those positions until I've finished over here,"
Garth instructed after several minutes of torment.  He heard the sob in their
throats as he turned back to Linda.          
   	"Now a little lubrication," he smiled, expertly locating her waiting
clitoris and rubbing it into a hard little bud of anticipation. 
	"Hmmm," she moaned, quivering, eyes closed as his palm slid up and down
her ripe sex.  A finger bent within into the hot, moist heat, probing the soft
flesh. Without further ado he knelt up, replacing his finger with over ten
inches of thick, twitching hardness. "Ugggh," the grunt was torn from her as he
thrust to the hilt deep inside her waiting honey-pot, feeling her warmth
envelope and grip him.
	"Legs down, roll on your side so we face each other keeping me within
you," he gave his curt demands, all choice denied her.
	Linda needed no prompting to keep him within her.  Gasping slightly she
manoeuvred herself into the position required, reaching towards him. 
	  "No!"  He snapped, making her flinch. "You don't touch or move, you
too must exercise control.  Clasp your hands on your neck and don't move them. 
You don't come either.  You learn self-control, those you must please may want
to test you like this - make you wait."
	An expert, he thrust his hips forward, sliding deep into her liquid
delights, then tantalisingly withdrawing, feeling her automatically move towards
him, to keep him there. He wagged his finger until she subsided, her face awash
with arousal and promise if he sank back into her.  However, that was not to be. 
Keeping just his tip inside her, his finger went into the cleft of her buttocks,
feeling them automatically contract as he probed the tight heat of her hidden
entrance.  Again he wagged a finger and she relaxed to allow him to probe.  As a
reward, he thrust fully into her, impaling, staying deep within her as she
shuddered around him, mouth gaping, urging him with her eyes to finish her.  It
was not to be.
	"You've been fed enough," he began pulling out, feeling her sex
practically sucking him back.  It was to no avail, he withdrew with a 'plop,'
her face collapsing in frustration.  "On your back again, legs back behind your
ears.  Show the others your little, hot, wet wares," he smiled at the two other
couples straddling each other, motionless, as the gasping blonde obeyed.  
	A surge of pleasure flowed into Rosemary's belly when Mr Garth finished
with Linda and looked at her.
	"OK, maybe some more now eh," he relented and teased, calling her back. 
"Lay on me, girls on top, girl power eh," he laughed at the emotions on her
beautiful, shining and flushed face, "and remember your voice."
	Rosemary obediently lay full length on him, pressing her lushness
against hid hard torso as she must. Carefully she arranged herself, his erection
stiffly protruding upwards between her spread thighs like a flagpole.
	"You may stroke my hair, tell me you love me as you raise yourself to
take me in."
	She undulated on him, stroking his handsome head, smelling his
masculinity, feeling his stubble.
	"Oh, Sir, I-I love you and want you - in me, please." She whispered the
adoration between kisses, like a lover.  In truth she knew it was only partially
faked; the man was a sexual dynamo.
	Slowly she raised her haunches in an arch, curving her bottom
provocatively.  Wriggling her hips slightly she gasped as she captured the
object of her desire, felt his knob at the end of the long stiffness touch the
wet softness of her waiting sex lips.  Her mouth opening in animal lust she
slowly slid back down on him her aching loins feeling wonderfully stretched
again.
	With closed eyes she began to undulate like a pink serpent, then desire
rising and control sinking, jerking her hips faster, pumping. Ignoring the part
of her mind which reminded her that she was performing an intimate sexual act
with someone she hardly knew and before an audience of, probably now secretly
scornful or jealous women.  She let her body dictate matters. What did it matter
she thought?  She just wanted him, now.  Didn't she after all deserve some
pleasure after this hell she had willingly put herself into to rescue Penny?
	At the thought of her sister, the rational part of her mind regained
some control. These bastards had her and no doubt put her through all this too. 
And here her rescuer was, rutting with one of her kidnappers.
	"Ughh," his manhood was swelling still further, its base rubbing her
already inflamed sex bud into a greater frenzy. Did rational thought matter
right now, she wondered?        
	"Enough," Mr Garth managed to exercise control. "Slide up, you're not to
come yet."
	"Huh, please," she whimpered, but nevertheless arching back up a little,
the matter of her pleasure being taken completely out of her hands again.
	"Up more, just the knob left in please, nothing more."
	Gritting her teeth in frustration she raised herself, feeling his
hugeness easing from her.  She felt suddenly empty, just his pulsing knob
trapped within her sex.  Mentally she pleaded with him not to make release that
last part of him.  She wanted him so badly, so shamefully.
	"One full stroke - slowly - then stop again where you are," he ordered
with a mocking grin.
	Groaning, she lowered herself taking him all in, gripping him with her
muscles. Only when his eyes began to challenge her delay did she reluctantly
slide back up to again leave his tip within her quivering haunches.
	"Again, but no hesitation this time."
	He was a master torturer, but somehow she obeyed. She bit her lip, eyes
imploring his. He was taking her to the shoreline but forbidding her to enter
the warm orgasmic sea beyond. "You want to be f---ed?"
	"Please yes Sir." No longer did she care about the circumstances or the
audience.
	He kept her there for a full minute, a taut arch of tension longing for
fulfilment, twitching.  Her sex lips gripped just the fraction of an inch
allowed her whilst she marvelled at his own self-control.
	"All right then, as a reward," he relented with a mocking grin. "Jump
onto me clasp your thighs around my hips."
	In almost a dream-like state she reluctantly disengaged all together but
rapidly leapt at the huge man- mountain and felt his hands catch and hold her
tight buttocks.  He slowly, deliciously, impaled her on the spear of his desire.
Gasping, she could feel his huge throbbing length sliding into her again,
filling and stretching delightfully.
	Without needing any second bidding she wrapped her arms around his huge
gleaming torso, pressing her softness against his muscled hardness.  Her toes
alternatively clenched and stretched where they were entwined with his thighs as
he gripped and pumped her loins.
	"Ugh, ugh, yes yeees."
	She became a wanton sexual animal, grunting with teeth-baring passion.
Never before could she recall a man such as him, his huge length throbbed and
pulsed within her.  Nor could she recall having previously reached such a stage
of pleasure in such a short time.
	"Yeeees, mmmm." Head thrown back, sinews taut, she gasped her
abandonment against his musky neck.
	Whilst his hands grasped and thrust her clenching buttocks up and down
on him like a cocktail shaker, one of his long fingers was flicking the enlarged
bud by her pleasure portals.  At the same time his mouth was alternately sucking
the hard red tips of her breasts deep into his mouth, nibbling deliciously or
exploring her own hot willing mouth. Then, slightly easing the hot sticky
epicentre of her pleasure off him a little, he teased her, withdrawing somewhat.
	"How much of it is in you little one? Guess."
	"Urghh," Rosemary gasped desperately trying to grip the withdrawing
bulbous head with her vaginal lips and suck it back in, he was torturing her
again, showing off his control. "Er, six inches - Sir," she panted wildly
knowing she had to say something or risk losing everything.
	"No, I think a little less than that - and less still now," he teased
easing slightly further out of her, his huge hands easily preventing her
clenching buttocks from descending over his throbbing root.  "Guess again."
	"Two in-inches Sir," she squirmed, panting, helpless with desire and
frustration only feeling the tip of him in her now.
	"Pretty close, I'm not sure whether to let you have the rest again or
not," he pretended to consider.  "Maybe if you beg me using the dirtiest,
filthiest words you know - like the street whore you are -, I'll f__k you.  Go
ahead girl."
	"Pl-please f-f__k m-me Sir, give me more, f-k the arse of me."  Rosemary
whispered the private 'bedroom' words, unaccustomed to public consumption,
against his chest, pressing and writhing her sticky body against him.
 	"Louder whore, continue, and keep repeating them."
	"Please f__k me hard Sir, please Sir, give me more, push more into me,
into my.... my," she  faltered after gasping the reluctant words for all to
hear.
	"Well into what," he bellowed?    "My c--t, my c--," she now screamed,
her throbbing bud inflamed by his flicking finger whilst her womanhood ached for
his purple love stick. "Please Sir f--k me hard, fill my c--t.
	Without finesse or warning he suddenly thrust her buttocks down,
impaling her with a liquid squelch.
	"Ooohh, argghhh, mmmmmm, uh, uh, uh," she gasped as he expertly pumped
her aching limbs up and down on his piston, feeling it feeling and stretching
her eager hole. 
	Her nipples were inflamed, solid buds of throbbing tingling desire as
her lips pressed against Mr Garth's huge torso sucking the rubbery tip of his
nipples into her mouth, her teeth nibbling him.  One of her long slender fingers
stabbed into the rock hard cleft between his tight buttocks feeling the man-
mountain jerk as she delved past his sphincter ring - giving him everything she
could.  The thrusting of his hips and the movement of his knowledgeable fingers
became faster.
	"You obviously need a good f---ing girl.  Better than you've had
before?" he enquired almost politely?
	"Y-yes, Sir," she somehow managed to reply truthfully in her lust,
before continuing to plead for his cock.  "Ugh, ugh, f__k me hard please f__k me
hard Sir, fill my c__t. Ugh, ugh," she gasped in unison with his powerful
thrusts."  
	Wild, wet and wanton, she was happy to lose control and responsibility
for her actions, surrender to  this Arab stallion.
 	"Bigger than what you've had before eh?" he smiled possessively, knowing
he had the woman where he wanted her.
	"Ugh, ugh, please f-f__k me hard, yes Sir - bigger," she whispered as
she bounced on the huge brown trunk which she needed deep inside  her so much.
	"And am I the best f__k you've had girl?  Say it."
	"Yes, Sir, the best f__k, pleeease f__k me hard," she moaned - a
conquered woman.
	"Here it comes girl," he roared.
	"Arghh, hahh, hahh, hmmmmmm, " she gasped breathless, panting her
intense orgasmic pleasure shamelessly before all of the others as Mr Garth
expanded and exploded within her. 
	Her gripping sex lips practically closed around his throbbing torpedo,
sucking him dry and deep into her, taking his seed willingly.  Delicately her
breasts bounced and quivered, as she pressed her sticky body against him, closed
eyes wet with desire, her long lashes fluttering against his heaving chest.  She
hardly noticed the look of tortured desire on fellow Angel, Mark's face as he
watched her performance with a mixture of pleasure and frustration, obviously
wishing he was in the place of the huge Arab.

	-------------------------------------


	
	"I should mention that it is customary," intoned Mr Garth solemnly a few
minutes later at the end of the session, "for each Angel to present your main
female supervisors, either Miss Mitzie or Miss Wang, with small gifts as a token
of your thanks for their training."  He smiled at the looks flitting across
their faces.  They were looks which daren't transmit themselves into the words
they would like to use to describe the endeavours of the two female sadists and
their treatment of them.
	"Of course it isn't compulsory but I have known instances of those who
forget this little courtesy not passing out and having to spend another few
weeks here with the next intake." He smiled again at the despair on their faces,
their inner turmoil, imagining the prospect of going through the course again. 
"I know you have limited scope for giving gifts but some girls present, for
instance, a pair of knickers embroidered with their name and a thank you
message.  Your own knickers will be returned to you in order that you can
embroider them in the evenings in your boxes.  Or you may wish to inscribe,
neatly, a cane or whip," he offered as an alternative.
	Rosemary's shoulders slumped as she tried to grapple with the pressure
of this added requirement.  Evenings before the punishment parade were a
precious period of studying poetry for Miss Wang's lessons.  Alternatively they
allowed permissible talk for the trainees to discuss the entertainment they
would have to put on for the staff and guests.  It transpired that Lindsey had
been a professional dancer who applied to Lavery because she thought it would
enhance her career!  Thus the Italian beauty was given the role of co-ordinating
the show.  The Angels desperately used and needed every such minute allotted.   
	The rough plan, before the imposed curtain of silence descended again,
was agreed.  Some Angels would sing a selection of the karaoke songs available
in camp whilst others would dance.  They had to think through their routines
privately in readiness for the next opportunity of discussion.  None doubted
that any bad gaffes during the show would go unpunished.    Now Rosemary and the
others had also to somehow find time to make gifts for the two women who
tormented them so!




	                         CHAPTER  9





	Forming a little convoy, Rosemary marched obediently with a guard in
front of her and one behind.  She was conscious of her hindquarters swinging
sexily under the short white dress with her movements and the guard occasionally
patting her undulating bottom.
	~Nice arse girlie,~ he whispered crudely, fingers curling under her
dress and buttock cheeks to brush her dark heat.	
	Stifling a woman's natural urge to pull away and berate the perpetrator
she had to simply accept such attentions. Worse though was her fear at the break
in routine from resting in her coffin-bed before seeking refuge in sleep, and
the unexpected summons to Miss Mitzie's quarters.  What had she done wrong?  Her
belly quaked in dread.
	"Come," the voice of the Negress drifted lazily from behind the large
oak door at the guard's knock.
	"Stay silent, obey Miss Mitzie in whatever she says," he gruffly
advised, pushing open the door.  	She continued the high-stepping march
into the centre of the room until the door closed behind her.  Then uncertainly
she stumbled to a stop. It felt so unnatural, ridiculous to continue doing so in
the intimate atmosphere of the bedroom. 
	The Negress reclined on a large bed in a short nightdress, a glass of
wine in her hand.  Her eyes lazily roamed over the beautiful blonde standing
before her.  
	"Welcome, I've-I've been expecting you," she slurred raising her glass
and sipping from it. 	Rosemary's spirits sank further and her fear grew.  The
woman in whose power she found herself was drunk, and might push things beyond
reasonable limits. "Come closer little one, stand here," she pointed to the
floor just before her. 	Chewing her lip, Rosemary obeyed, her fists clenched in
tension by her side as the woman's eyes swept over her.
	"Do you find me attractive?" Miss Mitzie purred, running her hands down
her own body, over the muscled arms and legs, smoothing her breasts and over her
belly.
	Not knowing what to say, Rosemary nodded gulping in dread as the nipples
of the Negress formed into two hard cones jutting through the thin material of
her nightie. Below, she could see the dark profusion of black curly hair where
the active hands had pushed away the covering.  A deep smell of musk permeated
the room. She was certainly a fine specimen of womanhood, an athlete.  However,
apart from the experimentation's of youth and the enforced, and albeit somewhat
enjoyable, lesbians lessons here, Rosemary was heterosexual.
	"That's such a pretty little dress Trixie, smooth it over your body,
tightly, show your curves," she was commanded.
	It felt so strange in the present circumstances to run her hands over
herself but she knew she had no choice.  Again though, came the tiny and secret
twinges of pleasure that the woman, despite being her tormentor, so obviously
enjoyed her doing so, pleased that she gave such pleasure - even to another
woman.  It gave her a modicum of control she supposed.
	"Take it off now." The voice was husky.
	She stood naked and uncertain before the dark twinkling eyes devouring
her.  Never had she seen or imagined Miss Mitzie in such a state. 	
	Mitzie felt pleasantly drunk.  She had arranged a rare liaison with
Garth but a change of his duties had prevented its consummation.  Although not a
lesbian, she was bisexual, and had certainly enjoyed the young girls, Copper and
Tinkerbelle. Now she had decided to seek solace with one of the most beautiful
Angels presently in the camp.  Serving her would also assist the girl's training
she justified.
	"Twirl for me Trixie, and keep turning, slowly."
	Mitzie's strumming fingers found increasing warmth and moisture between
her legs as the beauty revealed all before her eyes.  The shadows in the room
played lovely games over the pale skin, down the delightful dip of her spine to
the swelling of her hindquarters.  Enticingly the breasts, with their red-tipped
buds, danced in and out of view. Impishly, she reached out to lightly slap the
firm bottom, feeling the silken texture flinch under her hand, delighting in the
girl's little yelp as she nevertheless continued to obediently turn.
	"Kneel here before me girl," she suddenly instructed, watching with
satisfaction as the girl, correctly interpreting the beginnings of her frown,
quickly clasped her hands to her head.   
	How she drunk in the resigned apprehension in the wide eyes, inches from
hers.  She was basically in this job for the money but, if she was honest with
herself, it was rather good to have such a sophisticated and beautiful Western
woman so totally under her thumb.
	"I'm glad you remember your training, and your instructions Trixie," she
sighed, idly stroking and cupping one of the breasts jutting proudly with her
posture. "You also know that your purpose is to serve, to make whoever demands
it feel that you live only for them, that you love them.  Anything less is a
failure on your part, and more importantly Lavery's. So, for tonight, you love
me and want to do anything and everything to prove that to me.  Start by
initiating the action, take off my nightdress, kiss me and whisper nice things
to me, as a man would to a woman.  Pretend you are a man if you like. Worship
me." 	
	Mitzie lay back in heaven as the girl's soft body pressed against her. 
The lips continually sought her own, nuzzling, licking.
	"I want to please you, I love you Mistress," Rosemary whispered, lightly
nibbling her ears whilst her hands cupped the black breasts, then slid down over
belly to the moisture she would find below.
	Needing no further instruction, the beautiful hindquarters lifted
slightly to straddle one of her ebony legs, gripping it, rubbing. Mitzie was
both surprised and pleased to feel a corresponding heat and wetness against her
thigh.  She languidly reached out to hold the blonde head, and stroke down each
delicate joint to the spine until she gripped the tight clenching buttocks under
her hands.  Urgently she now began to return the girl's kisses, their tongues
entwining, as were their limbs, white and black, melding and crushing together. 
She crooked a finger into the cool cleft between the buttocks, feeling the
blonde tense, then squirm deliciously as she neared the puckered ring.
	"It may not be your favourite but you will make your partner believe
your little botty was made to receive him or her if they wish it," Mitzie
breathed.
	She felt the girl force herself to relax as her digit pushed against the
tightness of her sphincter.  It was so good to explore a girl this way she
considered, as indeed she knew did many men in this country. The hot sheath
gripped her finger, trying in vain to reject the intruder pushing relentlessly
in.
	"There's a girl, relax, work with me, now squeeze," she sighed, fanning
her other fingers over the clenching cheeks between which her finger was now
firmly embedded.
	 Indeed, the blonde's cute little arse did again begin writhing against
her, and she assisted it from within, feeling the tightness, bending and
stretching around her. When she finally withdrew from her anus, the wet and
willing mouth slid down her breasts.  Mitzie gasped, as the teeth nipped and
chewed, teasing the hardness of her nipples.  Then slowly, oh so slowly, the
lips eased down her fluttering belly until they met her woman's lips and began
sucking. 
	"Oh aaah, yees."  she gasped and cried, bucking wildly as the pink
tongue darted into her, alternatively sucking the straining bud of her clitoris,
rolling and chewing. 
	The two women lay slaked in each other's arms, white against black until
the early hours.  The only sounds in the room their steady breathing and the
occasional touch of flesh against flesh. 
	

Rosemary continued, as she presumed she must, to hold her tormentor, to kiss the
dark face and throat before her, pressing herself against her as if they were
lovers.  Blushing in the darkness, she knew that, to all intents and purposes,
they were lovers.  She had not, dared not, hold back.  Despite the horrid finger
again up her bottom she had shamefully climaxed too, her moans submerged by
those of Miss Mitzie - what had she become? 
	Maybe she could turn this to her advantage, the Negress could be a
friend, heaven knows she needed one here.  Could there be some reward for her? 
Possibly she could somehow dare ask after Penny?  Perhaps they could be together
soon? Was the woman was just feigning sleep, testing her reaction?  Unable to
relax sufficiently to sleep herself, she didn't know what else to do beside hold
the black Goddess.  What would happen though if Miss Mitzie slept all night and
someone found her here?  Gently she jiggled the amazon beside her. Thankfully
the woman began to emerge from sleep's cocoon.  However, before Rosemary could
try out any of her rehearsed words, any thoughts of gratitude or possibly the
promise of preferential treatment were dashed.
	"Your training is over for now. I've known better," Miss Mitzie lied,
"but you weren't too bad I suppose - for a Western slut.  Next time though -
with whatever partner - I expect more spontaneity.  Now, get dressed my little
whore, hurry," she slapped the delightful curve of her victim's bottom as she
rose hurriedly from the bed.
	Rosemary managed to hide a woman's natural, hurtful resentment and loss
of pride at the rejection and put-down.  Having literally prostituted herself,
given her all, she was taken aback at the sudden change in attitude, holding
back an almost tearful retort.  The alcohol had worn off and 'play time' was
over she guessed.
	"You march silently back to your quarters ahead of me, now," Miss Mitzie
snapped, binding her wrists in the customary manner, perhaps angry that her
guard had been momentarily down.
	Although knowing she had been used, Rosemary was grateful to be able to
snatch a few hours sleep before the rigours of the next day began again.   
	 

	

				--------------------------


	"Today a holiday for staff and you no have normal duties - a day off. 
You maybe have time to work on presents for lady tutors, or rehearse for show."
	Panting, after the normal morning pt exercises, Rosemary felt her
spirits lift slightly at the announcement from Mr Ho.   She knew it was a false
dream but she never wanted to see those tracks again where her team had toiled
for so many hours in pointless labour, nor the hateful classroom under Miss
Wang's tuition.  At least a day's break was a precious gift.
	"However, staff often wish to use Angels for domestic chores.  You maybe
required after breakfast.  Miss Wang also want you learn these for lessons in
two days."  With a mocking grin he handed out another sheaf of text, taking away
the offering of a respite as soon as it was given.
	Rosemary barely had precious time to study the poem, discuss the show
and continue work on her gift before one of the fluttering Chinese office girls
arrived with a guard.  She, Lindsey, Linda  and Kate were selected in this first
batch.  Each had their wrists cuffed to their collars, lifting their small
dresses to their buttocks, before the guard gruffly marched them out.  He
angrily flicked their shrinking flesh, obviously not best pleased to be on duty
over a holiday. 
	Marching through the camp they encountered Miss Mitzie and Miss Wang. 
It came as almost a shock for Rosemary to see the two, dressed in casual attire,
with colourful blouses and skirts.  Obviously heading for a day on the town,
they were chattering like schoolgirls as they walked together arm in arm, making
her and the others feel almost as if they were intruding as they marched by. She
wondered idly how 'close' her two tormentors were?
	"Hi, we're off to the local," Miss Mitzie smiled to the office girl who
accompanied them, "will you be there?" she enquired, not even glancing at the
three Angels.
	"I've got a couple of things to do here then I off duty," the girl
explained, "what time you think of moving on from there?"
	Their bright, cheery conversation continued in total contrast to the
three beautiful girls, bound and continually marching on the spot under the eye
of an armed guard.  It was as if they weren't there, invisible, or were from
another world unconnected with freedom and normality.  Indeed, that was the
case, and it only served to make Rosemary even more aware of a lifestyle once
taken for granted but now denied her.   It was almost with some relief when Miss
Mitzie and Wang wandered off and she could resume her journey.
	The quiet Oriental office girl knocked reverently on a door opened by Mr
Ho.  A fat Chinese woman peered from behind him.   All were invited in.
	The woman, apparently Mr Ho's wife, examined them closely, scowling at
the four Angels possibly trying to decide which would best suit her.  She
selected Linda.  After her wrists had been un-cuffed by the office girl, she had
to respectfully stand to attention whilst the fat woman gave out her orders. The
others remained cuffed, totally ignored, whilst Mrs Ho offered the Chinese
assistant some tea.  
	Linda firstly had to trim Mr Ho's remaining hair. Then, the three
Chinese chatted pleasantly sipping their tea and relaxing in easy chairs eating
chocolates.  Linda meanwhile was on her hands and knees scrubbing.  Rosemary
could see that it was backbreaking work and the fat woman had ordered the whole
floor scrubbed spotless.
	As she and the other Angels were at last being escorted out Mr Ho spoke
to his wife, wrinkling his nose and pointing at the kneeling toiling figure. 
The plump woman nodded and addressed the skivvy.  "My husband say your dress get
dirty.  I agree.  Take off now, wash it when you do other clothes, then while
hanging up to dry - you cook."       
 	"Yes Miss,"  Rosemary heard her whisper, blushing with shame in the
domestic setting but immediately drawing off the garment and including it with
the others in the wash.  She just had time to see the beautiful hairdresser's
bare breasts and bottom jiggling with effort as she again knelt before the door
closed - and they resumed their journey.
	Their next port of call was Mr Garth's rooms and Rosemary felt her pulse
quickening.  Maybe, compared to the alternative of Mr Ho, this would not be too
bad. 

				-----------------------------------------------

Garth eyed the three beauties presented to him.  He pretended that he was about
to select Rosemary, seeing the expectancy in her eyes, but then held back.  He
turned to Lindsey and Kate, leaving the blonde still bound and rejected .
	"Ah, Dixie. Would you please strip Flasher," he asked almost politely of
Lindsey,  "I have duties for you both."   Watching a crestfallen, rejected
Rosemary being led from the room by the Chinese girl he felt a delicious sense
of power. 
	Having had her clothes removed by the Italian, Kate now knelt with her
hindquarters high in the air, nose to the floor as Garth thrust his large
manhood into her love cavity from behind.  It looked, he thought, like a long,
fat brown sausage protruding between two perfectly rounded potatoes.  He slid
fully into her liquid heat making her grunt with pure animal pleasure as, with a
squelch, he filled her stretched sex lips.  Her small white hands were balled
into the carpet as he expertly played tunes with her body.  He crushed and
squeezed her large hanging breasts and his other hand, clutching an ice cube,
stroked down from the velvet skin at the nape of her neck down every joint of
her arched spine to the brown puckered ring and up and again.  Kate's mouth was
wide and slack with lust, but her closed eyes jerked open when she heard a knock
at the door.  	
	"Come," Garth called - to her obvious discomfort.
 	Still fully embedded, he looked up from the delightful swelling
hour-glass of her bottom with the fur fringed lips below, gripping him tightly,
to see Mrs Leilla keeping her appointment with him.  "I'm just putting Flasher
through her paces - mixing business with pleasure, all part of her training. 
She's not bad I suppose," he said dismissively.  "I was then going to service
Dixie here," he pointed to Lindsey, kneeling on the floor besides Kate. "Would
you like to have her instead?" he offered generously.
	"Fine.  Perhaps I'll sample her tongue whilst you poke her," the elegant
Arab woman said crudely? " Then we'll go for that drive you promised? my husband
is away on business."
	"Sounds good to me, I'll just finish this one off," Mr Garth agreed,
uncaring of Kate's bruised sensitivities.
	Urgently now, he began pumping long and deep into the blushing, shamed
girl, his belly slapping her bouncing buttocks whilst his free hand slid over
her belly to roll her bud between his fingers.  She jerked, panting in his clasp
and within moments was at the brink.
	"Aaaghhhh," head thrown back, she gasped her shuddering orgasm through
clenched teeth as he skewered her sex with a final deep thrust before
withdrawing his glistening, erect pole to point almost accusingly at Lindsey.
	With a rustle of silk, Mrs Leilla lifted her skirt to remove her pants
and stood right before the kneeling Italian.  She gripped a hank of long brown
hair, jerking up the head to stare down at the bleak despairing eyes below her.
	"Use you tongue well - as I have taught you girl," she purred, thrusting
her hairy and now damp crutch into the upturned face of the girl, keeping a
tight hold of the hair. 
	"Spread your legs, wider," demanded Garth as he approached the kneeling
figure from behind, flicking up her short dress to reveal a gorgeous bottom.
	"Uggghh," Lindsey gave a muffled gasp into Mrs Leilla's hairiness as she
was brusquely penetrated.
	He winked into Leilla's expectant face whilst the brown head bobbed
against her crutch, her hands still tightly gripping the girl's hair.  As with
Kate, he mauled Lindsey's bouncing breasts, reaching under her dress with one
hand whilst playing tunes with her clitoris with the other.  The plump sex lips
soon became wet and warm under his touch, her loins jerking to an orgasm in time
with Leilla's own pleasure.  A good result thought Garth. 
	He toyed with the idea of also letting himself come but decided instead
to save it for Leilla later that day.  Besides, he didn't normally let himself
fully go with the Angels, Rosemary had been an exception the other afternoon. 
Briefly he wondered what she was doing now, and why Mr Sampson had asked for her
himself?     
	
					-------------------------------


	

In another part of the camp Mr Sampson, on his private terrace, relaxed on a sun
lounger sipping a cold beer.  One of the fluttering Chinese office staff girls
brought in Rosemary, 'Trixie' he corrected himself.  Her wrists being fastened
to her neck collar, her uplifted breasts pushed right through her thin white
dress, most of her cleavage on view.  She was magnificent he though, a beautiful
sensual animal.  	 Barely acknowledging her arrival, simply requesting the
Chinese girl release her wrists before leaving them alone, he remained lying in
the shade, eyes closed for five minutes during which he knew the blonde was
standing silently and rigidly to attention in her skimpy outfit.
	Some instinct, or intuition, had made him request this particular girl
be brought to him; it was a sense he ignored at his peril.  He slightly opened
one eye to regard her, confirming his earlier impressions of her beautiful; one
of the best he had.  He had often seen her in the distance or on film, naked,
sweating and straining around the place but now she looked even better standing
for his attention, close up - in the flesh as it were. Knowing her background
from the records he had an admiration for her too and something had told him she
could be useful to him - and him to her! 
	Then more cogs clicked in his mind producing the memory of another girl
with similarities to this one.  As he lay regarding her, more pieces of the
jigsaw fell into place.  An outline plot began hatching in his fertile mind to
solve a problem he had become aware of recently and had been wrestling with. 
	His general sense of wellbeing was also emphasised by the power he knew
he was exercising over the waiting woman.   He was not a natural sadist but one
is influenced by ones surroundings he thought.  Originally he had run this place
as a training centre for subversion and terrorism and he was a tough leader of
men.  For that he had to be harsh and cruel at times, which he supposed gave him
a good grounding for this.  When the camp was no longer required to carry out
it's original function, and lost its state sponsorship, the spirit of free
enterprise kept it intact.
	This then was his Lavery organisation for rich clients around the world
who wanted beautiful Westerners, mainly women, selected and trained to their
satisfaction somewhere secluded.  With the money on offer he willingly stayed on
in charge of the place and by recruiting the right helpers ensured that his
charges were put through their paces.  Ostensibly it was a form of parole for a
few months but he suspected that their servitude sometimes continued for longer.  
It might not be how he originally saw himself developing but, running this place
despite possible problems now developing with some members of the Lavery staff,
surely had its good points he thought. 
	 "Here girl - pour me a drink, " he at last acknowledged her presence. 
	"Yes Sir," she responded softly, carefully handing him another cool
glass of beer. 
	Knowing from her records that she was a rich, headstrong and influential
woman, he was impressed with her present demeanour.   He felt a hardening
beneath his swim trunks as her lush breasts were all but revealed when she bent
to hand him the drink.  He guessed that she might have expected from her
previous lifestyle for their roles to be reversed.  Thus why not impress on her
that it was not the case now, enjoy himself a little he thought - a perk of the
job.   He casually reached out to slide a strap of her dress off a creamy
shoulder.
	"Take it off and then remove my trunks."
	He detected a momentary flash of outrage and resistance in her wide
green eyes before she re-established control.  Blushing, but without hesitation,
she divested herself of the skimpy dress to reveal her full glory.  Her body was
magnificent, the lush breasts with red tips bobbed delightfully with her
movements.  She had perfectly rounded buttocks, a flat belly and long slender
thighs, leading to the curly blonde down triangle within which her sex lips
peeked coyly.  Yes he readily appreciated the similarities to the other girl. 
Stooping, her cool hands went fluttering, uncertainly to the waistband of his
trunks.  He lifted himself to allow her to slide them off, shivering with
pleasure as her fingers carefully lifted his thickening member to allow her to
remove the trunks.    
	"Sit astride my lap, Trixie, then hold my prick, you'll suck it
presently," he decreed, again noting how she immediately quelled the instinctive
outrage which initially passed over her proud face.  
	Although he had full use of the countless women who passed through his
hands there certainly was no doubting the extra special quality of this one. 
She was a sophisticated intelligent and brave beauty, who now sat elegantly
astride his brown thighs, her mauve fringed lips hot against his legs.   Gently
and erotically her slim hand moved to his penis, white fingers curling around it
as if with a large chocolate bar.  She caressed it gently as she no doubt knew
she must - probably suspecting this was another test.
	"Begin sucking."
	Although she was a fruit which he could harvest at will from the
plentiful orchard of the camp, Mr Sampson was indeed particularly impressed with
her apparent eagerness, beauty and expertise.  He was in heaven, imbedded within
the warm pink aperture of her oval lips, seeing her blonde head bobbing and
sliding up and down the length of his shaft.  In addition to the exquisite
combined sucking nibbling and tickling action around his glans was the electric
throb of desire from below.  Her finger was shamelessly delving, pushing into
the rubber ring of his anus, twisting turning, inflaming the cluster of nerves
around his sphincter.  He didn't think he could hold out much longer
	His penis was like a huge throbbing beast in Rosemary's distended mouth. 
Having now began to service the large Negro, Mr Sampson, the man who virtually
owned her and called all the shots she reminded herself, it wasn't, she
realised, all bad.  He was big, clean and exuded pure power.  Sucking and
nibbling diligently she could not recall seeing a larger erection  - except
perhaps on Mr Garth. 
	It made her recall a recent lesson in love she had attended in which
Miss Mitzie gave instruction in oral sex.  Those penises were indeed larger, but
they were not real.  The five girls and the lad they called Nancy were kneeling
naked with their wrists cuffed behind their backs to their collars.  Before each
of them jutted a huge black phallus, each was fixed in a line within a large
computer type cabinet. 
	Miss Mitzie assured them that the protrusions looked, tasted and felt
like the real thing.  She explained that the object of this exercise was to be
the first one, using the mouth only, to make the penis spurt its contents, which
must all be swallowed.  They were programmed via a computer to respond first to
licking all over, she explained, then gentle nibbling and kissing before
sucking.  The phallus would apparently twitch when each phase was reached and
then it would spurt its contents only after it had been sucked with sufficient
vigour!  Naturally, as an incentive the losers would be punished.
	Rosemary could remember, wishing to avoid the obligatory punishment,
gently and earnestly licking that huge length of warm plastic feeling so much
like the real thing, willing it to respond.  Progressing through the phases she
sucked as hard as she could remember sucking anything in her life.  She could
also recall almost with pride, Miss Mitzie patting her head and slapping her
heaving shoulders when she had won and had gulped down the creamy off-white
juice.  Then had come again the secret stirring of that previously unknown
pleasure as she was instructed to slipper the tautly presented backsides of the
losers touching their toes before her.   Five pairs of buttocks all awaiting her
attention - two slaps each.  These were her fellow suffers she continually
reminded herself, their roles could so easily be reversed.  She was still
unable, though, to prevent just a tiny bubble of pleasure as she made her way
down the line.  They all knew she was obliged not to hold back - or the strokes
would as usual be repeated and doubled by Miss Mitzie.
	However, she had taken a cruel delight in swinging her arm just a little
harder when it came to the blonde youth, Nancy.  Several times she had caught
him ogling her in a cruel, lustful fashion rather than the friendly way with the
other man, Mark.   Again, she had not spared any energy when she stood behind
the tight bottom of the Sloane Ranger, Elaine.  It was with a certain pleasure
that she saw the big red mark on each small cheek, relishing the sobbing yelp of
pain accompanied by her tears. 
	"You're daydreaming girl," the callous slap around her head brought her
back to reality, a reminder not to neglect her present task.
	Jerking back from her reminiscences she immediately brushed her hair
from her face.  Again bending forward her warm lips began planting fresh kisses
on the pulsing head jutting from her hand like a lolly.  The tip of her tongue
circled and darted, circling the moist slit at the tip of his member, feeling it
beginning to moisten with his lust.
	"All in again, suck hard." Crudely Mr Sampson grasped her tousled blonde
head and thrust it further down as his loins jerked spasmodically whilst he
spurted his lust deep into her throat, feeling her swallow everything he had to
give and then delicately licking him with her tongue - as she must.
	He had kept her kneeling at his feet for nearly half an hour like a
faithful labrador ignoring her, sipping a drink.  Dearly she would have loved to
swallow a mouthful of that nectar but none was offered and she knew better than
to ask.
	"Play with it," his deep voice suddenly jerked her into action.  He
nodded at the blank trunk, twitching on his lap.
	 When it was a rigid flagpole under her ministrations he stood up. 
Without warning or finesse his huge paws grasped her flexing buttocks, easily
lifting her.
	"Prepare for your own journey to paradise," he said simply.
	"Ugghh," the grunt was snatched from her lips as he lowered her onto his
large, rigid erection.  She slid down, eyes closed, gasping feeling it fill and
stretch her.  Automatically, as she had been trained her legs entwined with his,
drawing him further in, her hands grasping the solid black rump, her fingers
circling near his sphincter to provide a further spark of lust.   Her tousled
hair nestled under his chin as she covering his neck and chest in kisses,
pressing her hard tipped breasts against him.  Then inclining her head she
eagerly sought his large waiting lips, knowing that, of all men, she had to give
this one her all. 	
	Disguising her gasp of aversion as best she could, she wriggled her
bottom provocatively, squeezing her sphincter enticingly as his finger sought
her puckered entrance and pushed within.  With every orifice stretched and
invaded she jerked her hips in tune with his steadily increasing rhythm until
she felt him pulsing and jetting within her.  Gasping, panting her own orgasmic
pleasure into his ear she slowly subsided in the strong black arms enfolding
her.






                         CHAPTER 10
    

	Rosemary and the others in Blue team stood crouched and poised on the
earth over which they had recently sweated so much.  That ground, upturned in
some places and flattened in others still showed the lines of the original
tracks.  Although the old tracks had been only scant metres away from where the
new ones now proudly stood, every member of the team knew just how much they
represented in terms of pain and tears.
	All of them recalled how many strokes of the cane they had received
whenever they made what was judged to be insufficient progress.  They also knew
how difficult it had been to move those heavy strips of iron and wood that short
distance and with such precision and how much bawling out and abuse they had
endured from Mr Ho to do so.  Worse, they had carried out such painstakingly
hard work just for the amusement of the demons who ran this hell.
	Now they were to provide more amusement for the supervisors and
observers.  Some observers sat in the grandstand and some in the heavy wagons
the slaves would shortly have to pull around the track in races.  In a contrast
to their, 'normal' nudity at the track, they now wore plumed helmets and leather
harnesses which entwined their bodies whilst still leaving the breast and loin
areas fully exposed.  The harness straps were in turn affixed to removable H-
shaped lightweight metal frames which held their wrists stretched out behind
them and were clipped to the shafts of the wagons.
	Each team of six Angels was attached to a wagon in two lines, three to
each shaft, in a bent-forward posture, arms stretched out behind them.  The
supervisor who sat in the driver's seat at the front of the wagon held the reins
running to plastic bits thrust inside each of their mouths.  Smaller lines also
ran off the bits and clipped to their nipples so that any tweak or pull on the
reins would transmit itself to a sharp pain in the mouth and breasts.  Finally,
each Angel wore knee length boots and a plumed helmet, all in their team
colours.  	Two guests relaxed in the soft padded seats in the rear of each
pretty, shining wagon.  Everything looked so gay and carnival-like -  all except
the feelings of the Angels themselves!  They would all do their best though; it
had been made quite clear that the prize for winning each race was not being
punished!  
	Rosemary crouched tense and still awaiting the starter's gun and the
sharp tug on the reins she knew would follow.  The flick of Mr Garth's, crop
around their bare shoulders a few minutes earlier ensured that they remained
exactly in that position.  And already they had experienced the shame of him
showing the team off to the two guests who now sat in the rear of the wagon.  	
	"Oh we have a man in our team," had announced the shrill excited voice
of a brittle-looking woman aged in her forties, wearing a long black dress.  She
reached out to touch and feel Mark's thighs and buttocks.  "Will that help us to
win Mr Garth?"
	"Well, Michelle, that's his name," explained Mr Garth slapping Mark's
back, "is probably a little stronger than some of the ladies but that is
compensated by me being the heaviest jockey.  I reckon old Loopy here has got
some strength too.  Look at those hindquarters," he added slapping Lynne's
bottom making it contract with shame and dread.
	"She's quite old isn't she," enquired the other guest, Mr Smith?  He
reached out to examine Lynne's face, pulling, probing then holding her breasts,
tapping her thighs. 
	As a testament to her training the teacher remained silent and still
during the humiliating mauling as Garth and Mr Smith discussed and touched her
quite freely.
 	"This one looks useful too," went on the woman sharply, painfully
pulling Rosemary's head back by the bit and peering at her.  She stroked up and
down the enraged and ashamed blonde's thighs and bottom.
	"Yeah, quite a neat package," joined in Mr Smith shamefully playing with
her bosoms making them jiggle and bounce. "No clips now though," he giggled.
	"She's been shaved?" the woman had moved on, pulling aside the small
helmet and feeling Laura's bald head, patting it as one would a dog, "and all
over."  Her eyes roved as the young girl sobbed silently.
	"Not my type of choice," Mr Garth shrugged, "but her prospective owner,
a German I believe, wanted it that way and paid a hefty deposit. " He playfully
patted her tight little bottom, ignoring the policewoman's sobs before they all
climbed on-board the wagon. 
	Rosemary touched the youngster with her shoulder, smiling giving her a
look of sympathy.  During showers the day before she had again managed to offer
some comfort to the sobbing bald-headed girl.  Laura had whispered about how the
shaving had been conducted personally by her new 'master.' She explained that
she had worked several police shifts at an airport and vaguely remembered having
'difficulties' with a fat arrogant German tourist entering England.  How was she
to know how rich and powerful he was?  She humiliated him by searching his
baggage and having some playful fun when finding some disgusting magazines?
	She had renewed his acquaintance just a day previously at the camp - but
under vastly different circumstances.  They were alone together in a tiny
cubicle with his bald shining face and quivering jowls inches from her trembling
nudity. Obediently she had clasped her hands behind her neck, legs astride as he
demanded.  He almost purred as he walked around his quivering victim cruelly
asking about her career as a police officer.  He carried a large pair of
scissors in one hand whilst stroking softly through her rich hair, letting it
run through his fingers like water.
	"You look prettier out of uniform my dear," he had finally announced. 
"You ver so prim and proper as you looked down your nose when you found those
magazines.  I saw the look you gave your colleagues.  You don't look so arrogant
now.  Just a whore with nice tits and arse eh?"
	"Y-yes Sir," Laura had replied in a quivering voice realising how making
this one enemy had altered her whole life; now understanding why Miss Mitzie had
taken some pity on her, perhaps guilty that she had been instrumental in her
capture. 
	"Such long pretty hair my dear.  Such a shame you must lose it.  I'm
going to have you bald as coot just like me", the German had chuckled setting
his jowls quivering.
	Laura had cried as his scissors clacked as they wove their way over her
head.  She remained unmoving in position but her shoulders heaved as her lovely
hair cascaded and fluttered over them like soft snow, tickling her.  When he
proudly held a mirror up and she saw her, seemingly even larger, eyes in a round
face topped by just dark stubble her sobs increased.  Soon, however, she had
other things to worry about.  He had summoned Mr Garth who had fastened her to
the ceiling pulleys so she swung horizontally arms and legs blatantly wide her
despairing head hanging down.   	How she had writhed as the German had
lovingly poured and painfully coated her in heated wax.  He had smoothed it over
her head, into her armpits and into every nook and cranny between her splayed
thighs.  The real agony came minutes later as he ripped and tore the wax from
her sensitive skin heedless of her screams for mercy.  It apparently felt as if
he was removing a layer of skin.  The soft lips of her sex more used to the
gentle finger of a loving boy were wrenched and ripped, leaving her feeling as
if a blow-torch had played over her velvet flesh.  Again he carefully held and
angled a mirror to her wet eyes to show her his handiwork.  Any part of her body
previously having a coating of hair was now bright red and smooth.
	Seemingly feeling an urgent need within his trousers he had crudely
thrust his eager manhood into her there and then whilst she hung helplessly from
the ceiling, claiming her as his own. 
	Rosemary felt a slight kick on her leg.  Looking behind she saw Mark's
warning look, realising that she had been dreaming.  Although she felt sorry for
Laura, they would all feel a lot worse if any one of them didn't put their all
into this race. 
	By virtue of the layout of the rails each team had to get from its own
track onto the main layout ahead of as many of the other teams as it could. 
Each team's individual track of about 200 metres, which they had so
painstakingly re-laid, then merged with the next team's track.  Then the tracks
of all six teams joined the main circuit.  It was thus imperative to get your
wagon ahead of the next team before the points.  Once on the main single track
of about 400 metres in radius there were a few side rails running parallel to it
for a while and which wagons could use to overtake and rejoin. 
	Little transponders carried by each driver could flick the points to
divert their particular wagon onto the overtaking track.   They had a fear of
wagons crashing at the points in a tangle of naked limbs but they simply had to
trust the judgement of their driver and pull for all they were worth until
reined back.
	Sloane Ranger, Elaine was in the Green team next to Rosemary and they
exchanged brief looks of loathing.
	Crack!
	The sound almost took Rosemary by surprise, interrupting her musings but
the agonising pull on her nipples had her and the others, lunging desperately
forward in their harnesses.  It always seemed in practice sessions that at first
nothing would make those wheels begin to turn but inevitably they did.  She
could hear the thumping and pounding of the blood coursing through her, the
shouts of the crowd and Mr Garth's curses as the wagon creaked off on its
journey. 
	In those practice runs she had found that leaning fully into the harness
and looking down at the ground maximised her energy.  However, knowing this was
the real race she inevitably glanced from side to side to see which wagons would
get to the points first and which would need to pull back.
	Gasping and straining the teams pulled their heavy burdens along the
first 200 metre stretches of individual track that they had so agonisingly laid. 
Breath rasping in her throat, blinking the pooled sweat from her eyes, she saw
the Green wagon on the next track slowly overhaul them.  The crop cracked across
her shoulders as she strained even harder into the straps but soon she could see
Elaine's bouncing bottom.  Her team was several metres ahead of them.
	It was bitterly obvious to Rosemary that they would not beat the wagon
to the first set of points and then the dry-mouthed fear began in her that they
would collide at that first meeting place!  Still though Mr Garth urged them
forward at full speed and Rosemary obediently lunged full ahead, her joints and
limbs creaking with the strain, whilst her instincts told her to pull back to
avoid a crash. 
	She felt her bowels loosen with fear as the wheels of the wagon
alongside slowly passed her and she imagined them running over her!  Suddenly
she cried in pain as the straps pulled her back.  Just in time Mr Garth had
applied the brakes and allowed the other wagon to just clear the points ahead of
them.  Then he flicked the switch of the electronic transponder.  Even as her
pounding feet passed alongside the points she saw them flick in their direction
by remote control a fraction of a second before their own wagon's wheel's rolled
over them.  It was obvious that Mr Garth had much skill but the thought ran
through the minds of every team member how close it all was.  A fraction of a
second the other side and they would have crashed - and with them helplessly
bound to the wagon!
	When both wagons were on the same track, theirs behind green team, Mr
Garth cracked his crop menacingly above the sweat-covered patina of their backs
with renewed vigour, making them flinch, making them ensure they kept up.  Then
the whole team screeched in pain as he lashed them again to ensure they kept
ahead of another wagon on the other side and beat them to the next junction. 
	A few seconds later, thankfully flicking her wet hair from her hot face,
Rosemary saw that they had managed to stay ahead of that other team and were
still second in the race.  All of the wagons were now on the main central track
and had to complete four circuits of it.  Everything depended on the stamina,
sweat and toil of each team and the skill of the drivers to get to the points
ahead of other teams.   
	The pace was exhausting and she didn't know how long her legs could
pound at this pace.  She was vaguely aware of the brittle voice of the woman
passenger urging them on.
	"Get a f---ing move on.  Move your f--- ing arses, lazy cows."   
	A stab of hate lanced through her at the thought of the relaxing woman
they were struggling so much to pull.  She gasped and strained against that
unrelenting harness which now bit painfully into her shining, tender flesh. 
Then she realised, she was just an animal now, a racing cow.  A few weeks ago in
another world she would have simply driven her 4-wheel drive over such terrain
without a second thought.  Now though instead of sitting back on padded seats in
her powerful car, flashing long thighs from a short skirt, watching from the
corner of her eyes to see the reaction of the various men she passed, she was
now virtually naked.  Her body sweated and strained to pull a wagon with legs as
heavy and unfeeling as lead every pothole a potential to stumble to disaster.
Instead of a touch on the accelerator with her toe every tiny incline now
required lung-bursting effort.  The watching men and women she passed simply
shouted and jeered, regarding her as just another lump of flesh designed to be
pushed to the limits for their amusement, as did the beasts she was forced to
carry. 
 	The strain was really on now.  She was losing track of their position in
the race, or why she was running, she continually blinked sweat from her eyes,
shaking her head to clear her long hair from her face thrusting forward into the
harness.  Maybe in common with some of the others, however, she would have
difficulty in denying a certain, albeit small, element of excitement at doing
these things without any supposed freedom of choice; at being treated so - even
if they would never in a million years admit to it.  Perhaps only a certain type
of person found themselves caught up in the Lavery Road net? 
	She saw the observers watch in evident glee as their bodies strained and
heaved to pull the coloured wagons along.  They would be able to hear their
panting gasps and groans, the strain making their muscles knot on their bare
thighs and arms as they scrabbled for purchase.  The plumes quivered madly on
their shaking helmets above tendons standing out like marble columns in their
necks as they heaved.  There was the look of total concentration on each face as
they put everything into it, teeth gritted and eyes screwed half shut.  All
wanted to be first, none wishing to receive any strokes of the cane.  The riders
also had their pride and urged their own team forward by words of encouragement
or curses, their crops lashing hot, bare quivering flesh. 
	The heaving, aching bodies were well into their stride and having now to
fight the enemy of tiredness as they bounced along, their movements setting
breasts, bottoms and the huge plumes bouncing wildly, mouths agape, dragging
cool air into burning lungs.  Finally it was the last 50 metres and Mr Sampson 
too was on his feet cheering the Green team's wagon to its victory. 
	"Haaghh," Rosemary and the others in Blue Team gasped breathlessly as Mr
Garth's crop lashed them in frustration when he pulled them up in second place.  
	However, such was their rasping exhaustion that they barely felt the
additional pain across their shining flesh.  Whilst Rosemary was pleased that
Carol, Linda and Kate were in the winning team, she regretted that it also
included Elaine.
	 The winners had the framework restraints on their arms temporarily
removed whilst lightweight canes were produced for the losers.  The winners
would receive their medallions, small golden canes on a chain!  A guest from
their wagon was selected to hang them around their glistening necks and
shoulders.
	Elaine's shapely breasts were still heaving with exertion as an
aristocratic-looking youth in a smart black blazer with long blonde
centre-parted hair stepped up to the small podium on which they all stood, the
chains in his hands.  Elaine curtsied low, arms stiffly by her side to a cheer
from the assembled guests.  Rosemary detected a glint of controlled anger and
shame in the Sloane's pretty face.  Undoubtedly she recognised the lad as once
being a contemporary from her own social class.  Now though she was simply a
slave. 
	The grinning youth slid the chain over her plume and hair, adjusting it
to hang between her breasts, ensuring his hands touched and brushed each smooth
love orb.  Extending a finger he caught a droplet of moisture running down
between the lush valley between them, balanced it on his finger tip and
delicately licked it off.  The youth's girlfriend standing beside him laughed
heartily at the grand gesture and returned to him his goblet of chilled wine.
	"You'd better wash down the salt of the earth with a drop of plonk
Rodney," she squealed with mirth, openly drinking in Elaine's shamed fury.
	Making his way down the line of gasping beauty, he made much of hanging
the chain around the neck of Carol.  Giggling, he so obviously relished the
older woman's shame as he held and touched her intimately.	
	To polite applause the crackle of the loudspeaker formally announced
Green Team as the winners and then went on to place Blue Team second.  Each
member of Blue Team was given a cane, to hold in clenched teeth to present to a
member of the first placed team for two strokes.
	Rosemary walked forward, holding the cane and stepped onto the podium.
Whether by bad luck or design, it was Elaine who snatched it from her mouth. 
The girl had an unpleasant grin on her face, undoubtedly keen to vent her fury.
	"I'm just sorry it can't be more, but touch your toes you old cow," she
smiled cruelly, flexing the cane.
	Gritting her teeth, clenching her fists in useless anger Rosemary bent
over to present the taut curve of her bottom to the eager blonde.
	Tap, tap! The cow maximised her position by lightly touching the
vulnerable flesh.
	"Legs wider I think," she purred sweetly.
	Rosemary knew intense but unfulfilled hatred as she spaced her thighs
farther apart before again touching her toes.
	"Get on with it," an impatient voice called from the crowd edging
closer, the fate of the losers obviously interesting them more than the winners. 
	Crack!
	"Haah," Rosemary yelped, dearly wishing to press her hands against her
burning flesh.
	Swack!
	"Aaaaaagh." The bitch really laid them both on hard, making her feel as
if her buttocks had been branded.  
	 "Hold the position until I've finished please," the cultured, clipped
tones ordered her.
	Feeling as if her flesh was painfully, rapidly expanding and
contracting, she continued to touch her toes whilst the rest of Blue Team were
dealt with by the spiteful Sloane Ranger.  Desperately, she blinked back the
tears of pain, not wanting to give Elaine the pleasure of seeing them.  Laura
had no such inhibitions and the bald youngster screamed pitifully as the
excruciating pain was added to her other torments.  After each had received two
strokes they left the podium for the third placed team to receive three strokes
each, this time from Carol.	
	For the moment, the tension left the air both in the stand and for the
exhausted Angels making the most of the break before the next race.  All teams
were led to a paddock to be watered.  They were thirsty after their efforts and
able to ignore the indignity of taking much needed refreshment by lapping up
water like animals.  Their helmets and plumes were removed for the moment and
they simply fell to their knees and plunged their heads into the shiny silver
buckets provided, to lap greedily, immersing their hot faces in the cooling
liquid.   Whilst drinking, it was the final act of that race for the jockeys to
apply a little balm to the bodies which had so toiled, and then received cuts
from the cane. This would avoid spoiling their subsequent performance in later
races.
	Rosemary sighed little bubbles into the water as that magic cream began
to soothe her sore bottom. There was the occasional guest who visited the
paddock to grope and touch them but largely they were too busy picnicking.  And
it was generally preferred that the Angels were allowed to rest between races. 
	Standing on the starting line, her boots scratching for a good purchase
on the turf, a determination came over Rosemary to do well to avoid the pain of
coming last; maybe even coming first!  It seemed forever that her body was
frozen in a tense crouch, bottom jutting out shamelessly as she awaited the
crack of the starting gun.
	"Haarggh."
	Almost simultaneously with the gun's cough not only did Mr Garth bring
the reins down in a cruel lash across the curve of their bottoms but Rosemary
herself channelled her pent up energy in a gritted-teeth growl as she strained
every muscle into the harness.  Sucking in breath, looking down, she realised
that her feet were already pounding quite rapidly over the warm springy grass. 
Also that, unlike in the last race, beyond the limited vision allowed by her
posture she could see no wagon either side of her.  This almost seemed to give
her and the others added energy as they strained every sinew, hair flying back
as their legs pulled the heavy wagon along ahead of the others.
	On and on, the grass and track beneath her flying feet was a coloured
blur. Heat and tiredness consumed her and she lost track of time, concentrating
only on ensuring she maintained good traction with the earth.  Eventually she
became aware of cheering and her spirits leapt as she felt the brush of the
winning tape across her heaving breasts and Mr Garth shouting in her ear.
	"Good, good. There's a girl, Trixie, well done you did it," he seemed to
be mainly praising her - somehow sensing the extra effort she had applied.  He
scrambled from the wagon to pat her bottom possessively.
	Her heart raced even as she slumped gasping for breath in the shafts
having her harness removed.  Then thankfully the awful frame was removed so that
she could again use her arms for awhile, flexing them to circulate the blood
into aching muscles.  Heart hammering with almost pride she mounted the podium,
blushing as a handsome young Arab approaching with a medallion.
	The tips of her breasts, still heaving from her exertions, tingled as he
stood before her.  She bowed, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from his
piercing blue ones as he lowered the golden chain down over her plume and head. 
His firm hands gently brushed her shoulders and upper curve of a breast to slide
over one of her erect pink buds as he adjusted the model cane. 
	She made a breathless curtsey, smiling at him before stepping down.   
Carol was in the second placed Green Team and she presented Rosemary with the
cane between clenched teeth and bent over to receive her chastisement.
	With a now familiar thrill on such occasions, Rosemary saw the round
softness of Carol's quivering sweating nates contract as she positioned her body
and her arm high above the older woman's trembling globes.  This was her friend! 
Again, she would never admit to anyone, although some might have guessed from
her bared-teeth expression, the strange feeling of power coursing through her as
she made those creamy orbs judder and bounce.  Nearing the end of the line, she
put everything into bringing the thin, curved wood down across the clenching
tautness of Elaine's bottom.  Stroking the cane she knew that the resulting red
lines and hissing gasp of agony, the twinkling tears on the girl's pretty face,
were her doing.  
	Remembering the looks she had seen in the eyes of some fellow Angels, as
they had thrashed her on various occasions, could they too reasonably deny an
element of pleasure in the act?  She knew now from the other viewpoint some of
the pleasure she must have given those who had similarly chastised her.
	Finally, caning the youth, Nancy, gave her an additional thrill, making
the blonde youth's slim body judder under her hand.  It was as if she was
exacting some form of retribution from men for all of the punishment she had
herself had to absorb. 
TO BE CONTINUED

		THE SEARCHER  /  CAMP OF ANGELS - PART 6




		                         CHAPTER 11



	"Stand back to back, to attention, no talking or moving, Miss Mitzie
will be here presently."
	Mr Garth had marched Rosemary and Mark in the early morning from their
quarters, to a small secluded fenced off area behind the camp's living quarters. 
Then he had made them remove their skimpy attire and stand nude.
	She looked briefly around the 'garden' as best she could by moving just
her eyes.  It was about 30 metres by 20, a hot, forgotten wilderness of parched
wilted grass and small boulders.  Unusually a large iron box, like a closed
coffin with a small grill set at one end, stood embedded in the hard ground,
almost like a harsh outdoor version of their enclosed beds.
	It was the beginning of another warm day and she began to feel that heat
where she stood.  It was bright too, her eyes squinted as she was obliged to
face the sun.  That box would she thought become a sun-trap, like an oven within
a few hours, indeed little thermal waves of warm distorted air already floated
gracefully above it. 
	"Ah, the love-birds," announced Miss Mitzie, striding into the garden to
stand by the two still, figures. She stood right up against them, teeth
flashing, intimidating.  "So, we must deal with your behaviour yesterday.  You
both openly communicated, or maybe worse, in direct contravention of
regulations, not just a discreet whisper.  Anything to say?  You first
Michelle."
	

Mark cringed inwardly thinking of how, forgetting his wife his protective
feelings towards the gorgeous creature alongside him had slowly grown over the
last week or two.  He knew that they were not fully reciprocated but it was so
frustrating working and performing alongside someone so beautiful and under such
provocative circumstances.  His impotent rage would boil inwardly within him
when he heard the vicious bastards running this place laying into or callously
using her loveliness, especially when he was powerless to assist her.  It
offended his male pride. 
	Their current 'crime' had taken place yesterday.  He had seen Rosemary
stumble in her exhausted state returning to their quarters after the races.
Instinctively he had held her, his arms protectively around her, supporting her,
asking if she was all right.  He still recalled the wonderful feel of her body,
hot and soft against his hardness and the womanly smell of her.  She had
momentarily pressed her softness against him, writhing a little as he
accidentally touched some of the red stripes of torment faintly decorating her
body.  The hard tips of her breasts brushing his arm, her hand resting on his
chest gave him an immediate erection. 
	Maybe her touch was accidental, instinctive, or a result of her recent
'training?'  No matter, he had felt a man again for that moment.  His act had
been voluntary rather than the decreed following of orders in their love
lessons.  He recalled the times when he had to simply stand and watch when
someone such as Mr Garth was allowed to make wonderful love to Rosemary - and
how she so obviously enjoyed it.  Also frustrating was him knowing how, at the
snap of fingers, the Arab hulk could have her or any of the other girls sit
naked on his lap whilst he gave orders and direction for the next lesson.  The
bastard would fondle their lush fruit at will, maybe them having to continuously
kiss his body whilst he spoke, seemingly ignoring their attention.  Here, the
ripe loveliness of any woman was his for his touching and taking - a bitter
contrast to his own predicament.   
	Fate had decreed he and Rosemary to be out of sight of the guards.  She
had stumbled again, or he had perhaps lowered her? He couldn't remember which. 
He only knew that she was on the ground and he on top of her. How often had Mr
Garth casually, yet so possessively, stroked, perhaps playfully smacked the
gorgeous bottom he now held and cupped in his shaking hands - scarcely believing
he was doing so!  Gently, he leaned forward, his lips brushing hers, feeling
them part under his, her tongue touching his.  Then, she raised her haunches
slightly her softness opening under his hardness.  Before he could stop himself
or even think about the consequences, he had sunk into her, her ripe lips
pouting, waiting.  He would never forget her eyes opening wide in surprise, had
he gone so far!  But then they softened with mischievous desire and she drew him
skilfully deeper in, her hips writhing, her muscles gripping him wonderfully,
sucking.  He was truly a man again.
	She was wonderfully hot and wet; her mouth a whirlpool of desire as they
rocked so quickly and urgently together to explode in a climax of joint
pleasure. On hearing their names called they just managed to disengage and he
was again helping her to her feet when Miss Wang and Mr Garth stormed into
sight.
	"I-I'm sorry Mr Garth, Miss Wang," Mark had grovelled,  "Trixie slipped
and I-I helped her up.  She was tired after the races, she ran so well and I
didn't want her to be injured before she was bought by someone."  With his lies
he tried to provide purely commercial motives for his action.  It was true,
however, he realised that indeed the lovely woman would be sent to someone who
would possess her utterly for a few months whilst he would be dispatched
elsewhere and they would never meet again!
	Garth and Wang obviously suspected more had taken place than a simple
act of falling and support, but they had no way of knowing.  No matter, merely
communicating or touching without permission was forbidden here.  Miss Wang,
putting them on report, ensured they would suffer on the assumption that two
Angels had dared to either talk, or enjoy each other's bodies, without
permission!
	Slap!
	"Well?" Miss Mitzie demanded, her hand cracking across his face, making
it sting with humiliating pain, jerked him from his daydream of lust, "have you
anything to say?"  Her black fingers traced over the tautness of his chest, the
nails scoring painfully almost drawing blood, making him cringe.
	"Sorry Miss, No Miss.  I was just helping Trixie after she stumbled."	
	"Bollocks," snapped the Negress, "she gave you a f___ing hard on and you
wanted to cop a feel. You," she pointed at the blonde, "what do you have to say
- slut?"
	"I-I'm sorry Miss Mitzie, I did stumble and Michelle helped me up.  I
was so tired, please forgive me, I don't recall if he actually spoke," Rosemary
pleaded - in vain.
	"More f---ing bollocks, yes?" spat Miss Mitzie into the blonde's face,
inches from it, making her rapidly blink. "You would have got up by yourself I'm
sure and if you couldn't then someone would have been ordered to attend to you. 
You should have pushed the bastard away and reported him for infringing the
rules - right girl?"
	"Y-yes Miss," she whispered uselessly.
	"If these bullshit excuses are the best you two can do, you deserve what
you're going to get. We have an example to set the other Angels," she added
ominously.  
	The injustice of the cutting remarks burned into Mark but sensibly he
remained silent. 	He knew that if he stepped back just a fraction his bare
bottom would touch hers. A thrill went through him at the thought of that
forbidden erotic contact but he knew it was something he daren't seriously
consider.  She was so near yet so far. More importantly, Miss Mitzie's cane was
sliding through her fingers and she was looking at his penis.  It wilted under
her gaze as he imagined the cane slashing down across it.  More sweat beaded his
brow, he felt sick.
	Swack!
	"Huh," he gasped as the Negress, without warning, lashed it across the
top of his buttocks.  It could have been worse, he thought as he absorbed the
intense burning pain.    
	"Stand straighter my dears," she snapped making both figures
automatically thrust out their chests a little more. "Miss Wang devised this
particular punishment and she will now explain it to you both."
	Rosemary felt her stomach knot in apprehensive dread as the spiteful
little Chinese girl arrived on cue and turned to her. 
	"So, f---king out of turn eh," she gripped Rosemary's chin between her
fingers, her eyes boring into her victim's. "You," she purred, "will take nice
rest in box over there whilst Michelle do hard work moving stones.  It a hot day
so plenty of water for him to drink - none for you I afraid.  It get very hot
and unpleasant in there." Rosemary's eyes opened wider in dread, flicking to the
box with the heat waves rising from it.  She sub-consciously licked her lips.
"How long you spend in there depend on how long it take him to move stones,"
Miss Wang smiled. "It do your humility some good to be totally dependant on
fellow Angel.  Understand?"
	"Yes Miss," Rosemary knew the futility of saying anything more.
	"You," Miss Wang addressed Mark, "will please move all stones," her
out-swept hand indicated scores of huge rocks in a rough pile, "from where last
naughty Angel piled them. "You carry them over there," she indicated a point
around 15 metres away across the garden, "every single one of them," she
emphasised. 
	Rosemary realised what a daunting task Mark had been set, and wondered
how long it would take?  She again licked her lips when Miss Wang produced from
a cool-box a large container of water in which ice cubes tinkled merrily. 
	"Not for you," Miss Wang smiled. "While you lay in little sauna wishing
you could lick just one drop of water, Michelle will have different problem.  He
have litres of it whilst he work but he no pee.  If he does piss, he move all
stones back - then start again. Oh I forget one detail," she added with a cruel
smile, "Michelle no be able to see, he wear this," she held up a tight leather
hood." So Trixie be his eyes.  You two want talk  - so you shall.  Trixie guide
him by shouting through grill where to pick up and drop the rocks.  I hope you
no get too thirsty and hoarse otherwise he not hear you," she smiled at the
horrified look on the faces of them both.
	Without further ado she pulled the hot leather hood over Mark's already
sweating head, leaving only his ears and mouth visible.
	"Come," Mr Garth clicked his fingers for Rosemary to follow him to the
box. She almost cringed back at the wall of heat enveloping her as he lifted the
heavy iron lid.  	"In," there was no compassion in his eyes - she had
broken a rule.
	Following his directions, she gingerly lay down on her belly on the
brown sacking floor.  She needed no reminder to avoid touching the metal sides. 
Sweat seemed immediately to trickle from every pore and pooled in her eye
sockets as she lay on the smelly lining.
	"Take short panting breaths, it maybe better," he advised.
	She felt a terrible feeling of claustrophobia as the lid closed,
trapping more dreadful heat.  Every breath made her gasp and she indeed found it
better to just take shallow ones.  Her view of the world was limited through the
small grill to just the garden area before the box.  She saw the naked, stocky
figure of Mark, cruelly masked, finishing two long glasses of iced water which
she would have dearly loved herself.  Instinctively she again licked her lips. 
Then as the figure reached out blindly, questing, Miss Wang told her to begin
giving him directions to the first rocks.
	Progress was so slow.  Several times she could have screamed in
frustration as the sightless figure stumbled past the rocks she was trying to
direct him to. Was he stupid?  No, she mustn't think like that.  That was what
they obviously wanted - divide and conquer.
	The effort of calling out - loud enough for him to hear several metres
away - cost her parched throat dear.  Then his muscles would bulge around the
heavy weight as he staggered again under her directions to the slowly - too
slowly - growing pile. 

		-----------------------------------------
	

	She didn't know how long she had been so imprisoned but, it seemed that,
several times - like now - she watched Miss Wang insisting Mark have another
drink and hearing the merry tinkle of water rushing over ice - making her own
predicament even worse. Her lungs burned, she was breathing too deeply, too
quickly in frustrated panic.  If she could get out, she would she knew have
practically killed him for just one drop of that beautiful water - yet she could
hear him groan in protest at having to drink it!   Wild thoughts rushed through
her head of directing Mark towards her box and whispering for him to hold some
water in his mouth and spit it at her as he passed, but she knew the futility
and impossibility of that.  In any case, Miss Wang would be somewhere near, but
out of her limited sight.      


Mark's bladder was full to bursting.  From his original recollection, before the
tight hot leather had obscured his vision, there were probably many more rocks
to move.  What wouldn't he have given to be allowed to rest his aching muscles,
and also those of his straining bladder, his body groaned.  In normal
circumstances he would have simply stopped for a quick wee and a rest and then
carried on but he knew that he must simply try and control himself and carry on. 
To do otherwise was unthinkable. 
	That croaking voice whispered across to him again.  Instinctively,
impatient anger gripped him.  He wished the bitch would speak up, give clearer
directions so he could get this over with.  Then he recalled his last sight of
that pitifully small isolated box and the waves of heat ascending from it,
knowing that the lovely blonde was lying baking within it and relying as much on
him as he was on her.  It spurred him to gulp down the offered water, belly
bulging, and carry on as fast as he could, ears straining for her faint
directions. 
	His toes curled with tension and his penis flapped wildly and painfully
as he ran in a low blind crouch, careful not fall and drop the precious rocks. 
He could hear the water slopping in his stomach and just had to stop for a
moment to get control casting aside delicious thoughts of relaxing his bladder
and spurting onto the grass.
	"Hurry Michelle," came the faint croak.
	"OK, all you have to do is f___ing lie there, -I'm doing the hard work."  
Yet as he staggered on he knew the injustice of his remarks and tried to
rationalise them but he couldn't deny some bitterness towards the lovely girl in
the lonely, hot box.  The swine here certainly knew how to reduce
self-preservation to its basics.



			-----------------------------



	Time had now lost all meaning for Rosemary.  She dreamt longingly of
water, ice and cool air, sometimes hearing flowing water in the background but
not always quite able to remember where from, or what she was doing here.  Then
Mark's winging voice, seeking direction, dragged her back to reality.  It was
all his fault, she recalled, that she was in this position.  He was nice looking
and sweet and it was good to think that he cared enough to go to her when she
stumbled.  She wondered now though whether it was simply lust as Miss Wang had
suggested?  Just so he could touch her up.  She had flirted a little with her
body too though, she recalled with a blush.  Yet all this was surely his fault,
but now she needed him, needed him to be strong.  Mentally she urged him on,
guessing how much longer it would take him to move the rocks he had left,
praying that he wouldn't lose control of his bladder.


	
		------------------------------------------------------


	More time passed and more dreams and visions flashed through her mind of
being cremated alive.  This is how it would be, but if it took away the raging
thirst maybe it would not be so unpleasant she considered. Time was marked only
by Mark's impatient, strained voice, and her opening her eyes in their sea of
sweat to guide him to the blurred dark image of the next rock.  He seemed now to
be able to find his way gingerly to the growing pile and back and only needed
her to quickly locate the next one. 
	Then she became aware of a change of dream.  In this one a brown genie
appeared and lifted her from her iron prison so that she could float in the so
cool air outside her box.  With a start she found the dream a reality.  Her
genie was Mr Garth, his barrel-chested body rippled as he carefully lifted her
like a baby from her confinement to hold a huge glass of life-giving water to
her parched cracked lips.  After taking smaller and then larger sips to slake
her thirst she flung her arms around her saviour's thick neck, thanking him
pitifully as he wiped her brow with a damp cloth. 
	She caught sight of Mark, beside Miss Wang.  The hood had been removed
and he stood hands on head, a look of bliss on his face as the Chinese cow held
his penis, directing its flow onto the rocks. Deliberately, dismissively,
Rosemary turned away from Mark, snuggling into Mr Garth's arms.
	"Thank you Sir," she looked up at him with her wide green eyes, her lips
closing over his as she pressed her breasts tightly against him.
	"I'll take you back, let you rest and then rub some cream on you," he
told her with a wicked grin, possessively slapping the curving roundness of her
bottom, "then we'll see what comes up," he chuckled. 


   
					CHAPTER 12



	Two rigid fingers thrust straight up into Rosemary's vagina, a thumb
into the tight elastic ring of her anus, all making her gasp with shocked
humiliation. Although rising onto tiptoe, somehow she still managed to maintain
her hands on head position.  Having invaded her body, the smiling face of Mrs
Leilla was inches from hers.
	"I tell you, Western slut, wiggle your arse properly as you walk. 
You're so stupid today, don't you know how to be seductive?  Now I guide you, "
she purred to the shamed blonde.
	To an observer she would have looked like an obscene puppeteer.  The
Arab woman walked right behind, unnaturally close, to the beautiful blonde girl
who seductively walked up and down.  Her hand disappeared between the globes of
Rosemary's flexing buttocks pulling this way and that until her hips swung
sufficiently from side to side to meet her satisfaction. 
	"That's better, you must be seductive for an owner, sway don't slouch,"
she explained as if to a child rather than a woman. 
	Humiliation was bitter in Rosemary's mouth as she was marched up and
down like a glove puppet, the fingers deeply embedded in her. She knew though
the reason for this; it was simply to make a point to Mr Garth, who stood
leaning against a wall.  She guessed that Mrs Leilla had considered Mr Garth's
bout of lovemaking to her after the rock-moving ordeal, was outside of his
'training' ambit. Maybe Mr Garth had told her how she had encouraged it? 
Whatever, the bitch seemed intent on shaming her, and making the point - that
she, Mrs Leilla - now controlled her!    
	She could feel her tormentor's digits moving within her and it briefly
reminded her of a game she and Damien used to play when she had to guess the
number of fingers within her. They would be lying facing each other in bed and
he would make her place her hands on her head and close her eyes.  His soft
fingers would stroke tantalisingly down over her fluttering belly leaving almost
a trail of electricity in their wake and delve through the tangles over her the
protuberance of her pubic mound.
	Gently his fingertips would brush each fleshy lip of her sex with at
first just the very tip of his digits running within her.  With her hips
writhing uncontrollably he would stroke and rub the moist fur between her legs
until she was thoroughly wet before pushing his fingers deep up into her.  They
would twist and turn, filling and stretching her, pumping in and out.  If she
guessed correctly the number of fingers she was rewarded with having in their
place his hard pulsing cock.  Until she guessed correctly the fingers continued
to delve within her a thumb flicking her bud; she wasn't always in a hurry to
guess correctly!
	Thoughts of the pleasure that Damien's long, sensitive fingers brought
her served only to contrast that much more sharply with the shame she now felt,
walking, mincing, up and down before her fellow prisoners, the woman's fingers
jutting from her. Would she ever again know a life of normality, Rosemary began
to wonder?
	Thankfully, after what seemed to be an age, Mrs Leilla removed the
offending hand and was content to watch her victim walk up and down with
exaggerated hip-swivelling movements until she pronounced herself finally
satisfied.
	The unfortunate trainees were still some way from finishing the day's
lessons when told by their next instructor, Miss Wang, that they would now be
given practice in using their internal muscles, vaginal and anal. 
	The young Chinese witch smiled as the three pairs of Angels knelt back
to back about a metre apart, their buttocks thrust high in the air, noses to the
floor, wrists between their shoulder blades and fastened to their collars.  They
each had a large black dildo protruding from their love lips with a slim golden
chain attached to its base connecting to the dildo gripped by the girl
alongside; each pair of girls were connected by their loins. 
	"This a tug of war," Miss Wang announced. "Winner of each pair is one
who use her c-t best to grip dildo tightest and pull out her partner's."  She
produced an old slipper and placed it ominously in sight of them all. "Winner in
pair give loser three strokes.  If no winner in each team after one minute I
give both, six each!"
	Rosemary clenched her buttocks, gripping the phallus desperately with
her internal muscles, feeling the resistance as Lindsey similarly eased in the
opposite direction.  At that moment, she hated her companion in misfortune.  She
was sure that the young Italian felt that her body was better than anyone
else's, that she was stronger and more alluring and supple.  Rosemary gritted
her teeth with determination, wiggling and jiggling her bottom, trying to inch
forward.  It suddenly flashed through her mind what a sight she must be
presenting - that they were all presenting. 
	She knew shouldn't be blaming Lindsey. That was one partial aim of these
exercises - to break down any allegiances.  That was what these bastards wanted
- and were achieving.  It was the likes of Miss Wang and Miss Mitzie they should
concentrate their hate on.  Rosemary felt the dildo slip a little from her,
desperately she clenched and gripped it with her vagina muscles.  She should she
knew have kept her concentration and her thoughts about Lindsey. 
	It was not long, however, before that hatred for her partner did
re-surface.  With Rosemary obediently touching her toes, tears of pain trickling
down her face, after three strokes of the slipper she wondered whether it was
really necessary for the Italian girl to lay that winner's slipper on so hard!
 	Success was on her side however, when they were similarly positioned but
with slightly smaller dildos thrust deep into their rectums.  Rosemary, paired
with Elaine had tightened her sphincter muscles as hard as she could, imagining
them to be a vice.  Slowly, oh so slowly, again clenching her buttocks she had
managed to pull and worm the opposing implement from the young girl's bottom
till she nearly fell flat on her face - her wrists still pinioned behind her. 
	With the tables turned she could not deny the sense of excitement as the
Chelsea girl's pert bottom again flinched and contracted under the slipper she
enthusiastically laid across it.  Divide and conquer she thought abstractly as
her heart raced to the sound of the young, arrogant Sloane Ranger gasping with
pain, her tightly curved bottom a bright red.  
	"Now Angels have more instruction on controlling orgasm," Miss Wang
announced.
	The women, most with bottoms burning from the slipper, were again paired
but now facing each other thighs splayed.  Like the other pairs, Rosemary and
Carol stooped over a large rubber tube set into the floor.  The u-shaped length
of rubber was shaped a little like, and had roughly the same diameter as, cow
horns with the six inch tip of each horn embedded in the sex of each woman
impaling her.  A little hard protrusion stuck out about seven or eight inches
from the tip so that it would press against the clitoris when the tube was fully
within.
	"You sluts like this, yes? get arses wiggling," the young bitch smiled,
draping a hand casually around Rosemary's waist, lightly patting her bottom.
	Rosemary gritted her teeth, resenting the familiar touch.  It reminded
her too much of Damien. He would stroke her there, a prelude to wonderful sex,
patting, holding her buttocks, lightly caressing.  Now, her flesh shuddering,
she had to endure the hateful girl's touch, the crawling fingers intruding
shamefully.
	"Slide on girls, enjoy yourselves," came the command.
	"Oh, hah," Rosemary winced as she delicately impaled herself under the
amused eyes.
	They were each ordered to grip their partner's shoulders for support
whilst exchanging deep kisses and working their hips up and down over the, soon
slippery, rubber phallic tip at the end of the horns filling them. 
	Miss Wang was quite meticulous about timing and standards and had set a
metronome.  They all had to thrust up and down in unison to that steady beat,
about once a second, irrespective of their own natural yearnings.  Rosemary
could have leapt at their tormentor as she strolled amongst her victims, so
obviously lapping up their shame as she ensured that they kept to the designated
rhythm.  A tap or slash of her slipper across a bottom ensured that she got the
required precision, whilst checking that none broke her rules by actually
coming.
	"It seem appropriate," she laughed as she stroked down the curving sheen
of Rosemary's back, "that arrogant Western cows work themselves up and down on
cow horns!"
	Rosemary longed to claw out the slit eyes.  However, she knew that fear
of the consequences would always prevent it.  Instead, she had to simply
continue debasing herself as part of her training and breaking down process. 
However, the exercise had now become more pleasurable.  The room was filled with
the gasps of the girls and accompanying slurp of moist sex lips sliding up and
down wet rubber. 
	Her mouth was now beginning to gape and she could feel the warm
perspiration on Carol's face and shoulders where the woman was holding and
kissing her.  The face of her companion was, like her own, softening and
diffusing with pleasure, becoming ever more attractive.  Forgetting the long
dark hair she stroked, the hard buttons of Carol's breasts brushing her, she
could almost imagine that the warm, shining figure she was embracing was Damien.
	Her jerking, thrusting loins were now a sea of liquid passion.  Both
women had their eyes partially closed and glazed.  So much now did Rosemary want
to give way to the warm bubble expanding within her, to let it go.  The soft
touch of Carol's long hair flicking her shoulders and her sighing breath, soft
lips, added to her pleasure.  It was beginning to matter less and less to her
that it was not a man who held her.  That instead of a man's stubble, soft
feminine lips fastened greedily on hers.
	"Continue in own time, but no come yet," Miss Wang directed again like a
conductor.
  	The rubber was sliding in faster and harder as they thrust together more
urgently.  Now, her eyes met and locked with Carol's as she caressed and
squeezed her companion's swinging breasts.  Fighting to control her passion, she
could see the same longing in the older woman's sensuous face.  	Behind,
the Chinese girl's smirking countenance swam into focus.  How Rosemary hated
her.   The girl knew, and relished, the absolute power she had over the women
whom she had brought to the brink and who hummed for release, bellies tense with
control.  But the spiteful youngster's control over her was absolute.  Licking
her lips and curling her toes she knew that she would have to try and rein
herself in or risk coming before being allowed to.  Miss Wang reached out to
stroke her taut buttocks clenching as she strove for control over her emotions. 
Then her tormentor lightly tapped her bouncing breasts with her slipper before
moving on.
	Carol's breath hissed passed her own, teeth clenched.    
	However, Miss Wang was apparently not willing to allow anyone to climax
until she was as satisfied as possible that each girl would do so
simultaneously.  She continued to peer closely at each writhing, bouncing figure
looking for telltale signs; clenched toes, balled fists, rasping shuddering
breath.  Expertly she judged when they were all ready and could hold back no
longer.  Then, like the conductor of an orchestra, she tapped her cane.
	"You may come now, Angels," her order dripped sarcasm.
	"Mmm, hah, hah, aaahhhh," letting go, Rosemary gasped her feelings.	
	Her pent-up emotion and energy was finally to be allowed a release in a
rapid thrusting and shuddering of hips, clenching of buttocks with wildly
bouncing breasts and breathless cries.  Carol's fingernails dug painfully into
her soft shoulders as she too moaned, expunging her pent-up lust.  Both women
held each other close, jerking wildly together to take themselves over the warm
damn, their mouth locked together in a fierce, tongue-darting, kiss.  
	The temperature in the room had risen by several degrees as each pair of
shining, linked bodies, shuddered gently together, the tide of their lust only
slowly ebbing.  Rosemary was content to remain clasped in Carol's arms, feeling
her softness, stroking her hair as she regained control of her breathing.  By
ignoring the clack of Miss Wang's high heels, and her inquisitive, cruel face as
she inspected each couple, Rosemary could almost imagine that she was indeed
clasped in her husband's arms.   At least, she thought, she had obtained some
solace, if only briefly, from the cruelty of this place.  	






					CHAPTER 13
        
               

	Much of Rosemary's hindquarters and thighs throbbed agonisingly from the
attentions given to it at that night's punishment parade.  However, the soothing
effects of the rays from the grills in her box had taken away some of the pain
so that she could try to concentrate her tired brain on other matters. 
	She recalled how Miss Wang had delivered the punishments that evening
and the strength in her arms as she viciously lashed down across the bare flesh
of the Angels without seeming to tire.  The fact that such a slim youthful girl
administered the punishments seemed to make it all the worse.   Certainly she
ensured that she put the older women through hell.  When it was thus the turn of
Lynne or Carol she seemed to take a special delight in humiliating them.  There
were the extra clips of the cane or lash across the tips of their breasts if
they were not standing sufficiently straight before their turn to be punished,
or having to shout out and repeat their grovelling thanks in loud clear voices
after the punishment. 
	Sometimes she just had them running on the spot whilst everyone had to
watch their wildly bouncing breasts, bottoms and hair.  The young girl played
and toyed with them, drinking in their shame.  Rosemary was not exempt, she
seemed to a reserve a special hatred for her too.  That very night Miss Wang's
cane had cut cruelly up into the softness between her thighs because, when she
was bent over to receive her caning, her legs were not wide enough apart for the
girl's liking. 
	At least though, Rosemary thought with some thanks, it had not been the
Fancy Tickler again.  Laura and Linda had been the unlucky recipients of the
fiendish contraption that night.  The bald, ex-policewoman had screamed until
she was hoarse when it blazed up into her womanhood - as did the hairdresser. 
Miss Wang had cracked some tasteless joke about it cutting her hair down below,
and, on cue from Miss Mitzie, Rosemary and the other Angels had to laugh at Miss
Wang's humour. 
	Mentally shaking herself back to the reality of her confining sleeping
box, Rosemary knew she had to get on with the task in hand or face further
punishments later. She, along with most of the other girls apparently, was
nearing the completion of her careful embroidery of their own knickers with a
loving message to one of the supervisors.  By drawing lots, Rosemary's were
destined for Miss Wang.
	There was only a relatively short time which the Angels had to
themselves - and their exhausted bodies and stressed minds wanted only the
refuge of sleep to recharge their batteries.  However, it was not to be.  During
the evenings in the sleeping 'coffins' they had to learn texts for the
schoolroom, or make the gifts for their tormentors.  Having to spend hours
making such a gift of her own intimate clothing for the woman she now hated most
in the world was an added almost unbearable burden for her!        
	As she held her delicate black lacy pants to her cheek, she recalled
packing it in her suitcase for use on her stay.  She had received them as a
Christmas gift from Damien, and remembered the evening she had worn them, and
removed them, for him. She brushed a tear from her eye as she again tried to
make herself accept her current reality, checking her embroidery, praying there
were no errors which would earn her more punishment.  It seemed to be all right:
    
	'Dear Miss Wang,
		Thank you for training me. 		
			Angel - Trixie x'

	That lovely garment which had been bought for her, to cover and
titillate, to make her feel, and look, good now belonged to someone else -  a
young cow who she hated..  And the bitch would, no doubt, take a great delight
in showing it, and the grovelling inscription, off to her friends.
	A sudden surge of frustrated impotent rage welled up in her, making her
ball the garment up in her shaking, clenched fist.  She was spending hours
making a gift of her own belongings to one of the most hateful and spiteful
people she had ever met.  Probably Penny had lain in a box, maybe this very one,
making a similar gift just weeks ago. 
	Gradually though she regained control, releasing the garment,
straightening it.  The Chinese witch had total control over her, or at least
sufficient to make her life even more of a living hell than it already was.  Her
tongue touched the bug in her tooth giving her comfort, soon these people would
get their comeuppance - she must just be patient.   Her shaking fingers smoothed
out her panties and began embroidering delicate little flowers around Miss
Wang's name before sleep claimed her.
	A nightmare made Rosemary toss and turn in a cold sweat that night.  She
was a prisoner in some state institution somewhere, not knowing how long she had
been there, but it felt an age.  However, she was due to be visited by Damien
and she knew that it was imperative that she tell him the kind of ordeals she
was undergoing in the prison.  He would then tell the outside world and she and
her fellow inmates would be released.  The proof of the conditions and torments
here that the outside world needed was concealed in a film in her tooth and she
would pass it to him during the visit. 
	As if looking down from a ceiling in the prison she saw herself marching
in the obligatory fashion, arms swinging, legs raised high.  With her wearing
only a short white prison dress, her black lacy panties, the only personal
luxury allowed in the place, were revealed with every upward movement of her
straight thighs.  Alongside her, carrying a swagger stick and wearing a light
blue officer's uniform and a sarcastic grin was a Chinese girl - with the face
of Miss Wang.   
	Marching along endless grey corridors with the youngster shouting out
the rhythm Rosemary knew in her dream that she was nearly at the visitor's
centre.  The door was open and then with a leap of her heart she saw the smiling
face of Damien.  As he caught sight of her being marched and shouted at she saw
the look of anger cross his face, perhaps appreciating for the first time the
terrible ordeals she was undergoing. 
	Stamping to attention as ordered right before the counter, just a metre
from her husband, she longed to blurt out to him there and then what was
happening to her.  Also, that the smiling girl who he was greeting so politely
and thanking so profusely for bringing his wife to see him, had in fact had her
kneeling naked between her own spread thighs just 12 hours ago. The swagger
stick had repeatedly lashed her upthrust bottom for any slackening of effort of
the tongue which had to delve deep in the hot pink perfumed sweetness of that
same girl.  Desperately, she hoped that the Chinese girl would never know, or
never tell Damien about, the enthusiasm and excitement which she had tried to
conceal whilst licking so avidly between the girl's thighs!    
	Instead Rosemary remained obediently silent, only her large green eyes
pleading with her husband to quickly finish the formalities as she stood rigidly
to attention whilst papers were pushed onto the centre turntable in the grill,
signed and returned.  Then, in the dream, she caught sight of Penny also
visiting her with Damien.  Her sister was sitting alongside her husband cross
legged and relaxed on a chair, smiling at her behind the counter and for a
moment irrational hatred gripped her heart because somehow she knew that her
suffering was because of Penny.
	It was nearly over, papers were being signed, Rosemary touched the tooth
containing the microfilm with her tongue.  Then the tall figure of Miles entered
her dream, wearing a prison guard's uniform and strolling over to the young
Chinese wardress.  Rosemary's heart sank with impending dread.
	It  was just a formality, Miles had said, apparently reminding Miss Wang
that they had to carry out some random body searches that day and they might as
well do one now.  Mentally, Rosemary had screamed at Miles, did he want her to
be found out, he was on her side surely?  She was exposing the rotten system at
his behest!  No, there was no need for any fuss Miles re-assured Damien.  They
would conduct the search right here the Oriental vixen said with a sadistic
grin. 
	Miss Wang pointed to a small cubicle alongside the counter not much
bigger than a shower.  It had slightly frosted glass running around it from just
below the shoulders to the knees leaving the rest of the victim's body in clear
unobscured view of all of the visitors.
	Helplessness rage and humiliation washed through her in equal measure
alongside the frustration she felt as, seeing the normal world so near to her
beyond that counter.  She had to turn her back on those loving familiar faces
and step into the tiny cubicle at the command of the Oriental girl who stepped
into the tiny compartment with her.  In a voice loud enough for all to hear the
girl ordered her to firstly remove her dress for searching - right before the
eyes of Damien and Miles.
	When she was requested to now remove her underwear and stand with her
hands above her head her mouth and legs open wide, she looked at her husband
lovingly.  She swallowed at the sight of his hunted face, as he was forced to
watch, impotently unable to ease or prevent the ritual humiliation of his wife.
	 From the overall vantage point of her dream Rosemary saw the pink
silhouette of her body, the outline not disguised one jot by the glass, being
mauled all over by the Oriental girl.  There was the loud degrading commands
ordering her to open her legs wider, move her bottom forward, relax don't tense. 
Then with a cry of mock shock the girl's finger's, already carrying the scent of
having probed deeply into her victim's intimacies, were in her wide open mouth
and discovered the precious hollow tooth.  With glee the young girl held up for
all to see the little capsule, which contained all of Rosemary's hopes.  She
then, carefully, gave her two stinging slaps around the face before twisting her
arms up behind her back in a cruel half Nelson and pushing her naked out of the
cubicle so stand arched before her husband and Miles on tip-toe.
	"This is very serious young lady," Miles had said sternly, examining the
little capsule and then cupping her frightened chin in his hand, staring into
her wide frightened eyes. "I'm afraid that you will now all be with us for quite
a long time whilst we sort out what this business is all about."
	Now she, Damien and Penny were suddenly all naked and somehow in the
lounge of her own home!   She and her husband were bound upright from the
ceiling, cords around wrists and ankles holding their legs and arms wide apart
in the shape of a X.  A horizontal electrified wire ran just under her breasts
forcing her to stand quivering on tip- toe to avoid contact with it.  A similar
wire ran fractionally below Damien's testicles forcing him to adopt a similar
posture on aching toes.
	From her dream, Rosemary could see large red ball gags protruding from
their gaping mouths and that they were both blindfolded.  Miss Wang explained
that they would have to hold those painful positions until she was ready to
question them about the capsule from her mouth.  
	The Oriental girl meanwhile sat relaxed on Rosemary's elegant
leather-bound sofa cuddling Penny's naked body.  Her sister's wrists had been
tied painfully behind her back, as had her ankles, and bound together so that
her nude body was pulled back into a painful bow, thrusting out her tight
budding breasts.  With one delicate hand Miss Wang held the bound girl's head in
place on her lap, ordering her to use her tongue whilst she sipped wine from one
of her elegant crystal goblets with the other. 
	She could only watch the spectacle, but every so often, either her or
Damien's body would sag and then, with an electric crackle and a muffled gasp,
jerk painfully upright as the cruel wires made contact. Eventually the gags were
removed and Rosemary heard herself taking full blame for the capsule, telling
everything to avoid more but without implicating anyone else. It was apparently
to no avail however because, despite their pleading, she and Damien were left in
their terrible confinement, tired, aching bare toes scrabbling for a purchase of
the rich pile of her carpet to avoid the hateful burn of the wire.
	Then somehow Penny, still naked and tightly bound, was being carried
away by Miles, saying he would keep her anyway as his little pet.  He said, so
casually, that Miss Wang could stay forever in Rosemary's house and dispose of
its two former occupants as she saw fit!  She heard Damien helplessly, blindly
calling her name, but it wasn't really her name was it? 
	Then, jerking awake, sweating, the flooding relief of it only being a
dream was just as rapidly replaced by the horrible reality of her confinement in
the little coffin.  Mr Ho was calling her name yelling at her to get up to greet
another day in hell!






					CHAPTER 14



	

	When told by Miss Wang that she was going for a ride outside of the camp
Rosemary's heart leapt at the thought of being out of this hideous place. 
Maybe, she thought, she would see Penny? Then she could activate the bug so that
they could be rescued.  It was with trembling and appreciative hands that she
clasped real clothing to her thudding heart; black slinky satin underwear, black
fishnet stockings, suspenders.  This was followed by an equally slinky and
clinging short black dress with thin straps revealing much of her shoulders and
her cleavage.  Her costume completed with high heel pumps, she felt more like a
sensuous woman again rather than a helpless prisoner or slave, a lump of meat to
be ordered around and bent to the will of the fiends who ran the place. 
However, she felt some apprehension as to the purpose of these refinements and
this was enhanced when she found that her chains and reminders of bondage were
not apparently to be discarded.  Her wrists were expertly strapped up behind her
back between her shoulders, thrusting out her bosoms.  Another strap was secured
across her mouth and the small rubber phallic attached to it filled her mouth to
gag her; a blindfold mask rendered her sightless.   
	"A nice head-to-toe robe to cover you up and blend in and we'll go for
our little ride, girl," purred Miss Wang as Rosemary felt cloth being passed and
fastened around her before arms led her outside.
	A casual observer would have seen the robed figure of Wang assisting the
similarly black-robed, uncertain and slightly stumbling, figure onto the back
seat of the air conditioned Mercedes which pulled away from the compound with
the large figure of Garth at the wheel.  Rosemary sat upright and still as
directed by her mentor and, although utterly helpless, it felt good to be away
from that awful place and to hear and smell the everyday sounds of cars and
laughing children as they drove through several towns - even if she herself
could see nothing.  She just had to ignore the girl's hand resting possessively
on her thigh as they drove.
	After what she judged to be half an hour the car pulled up. She heard Mr
Garth's muttered exchange with someone and then what sounded like a huge gate
being opened and then locked behind them.  Her heart began beating faster with
dread - she seemed to have exchanged one form of prison for another.
	Indeed, Rosemary could have no idea at how accurate her guess had been
as the shiny black car drove slowly through a dusty compound to the cell block
of a huge grimy prison.  Garth stopped and left the car to finalise the
necessary arrangements with the warders whilst the two figures sat silently in
the back.  One with her veil pulled back, smocking a long cheroot - the other
with a blind questing head under its all-embracing covering but otherwise
anxiously and obediently still.  Finally Garth returned with a warder and the
Chinese girl led the other robed figure into the cool of a cell- block.
	The captive blonde could not prevent a little shudder of dread as she
felt herself transferred from the heat of the car and into a cool building.  It
echoed to Arabic shouts and curses and smelt of years of human sweat and misery. 
Her high-heeled shoes clacked over a tiled floor until she felt a door being
opened and the hands stopped her.  Without warning the robe was pulled off and
the blindfold and gag removed.
	She started back as she found herself standing before a fat Arab in a
stained brown uniform, a gun strapped to his hip.  He whistled as his eyes roved
over her seductive figure in the clinging black dress, her wrists still pinioned
behind her and thus her breasts thrusting provocatively towards him.   
	Rubbing a grimy hand over a sweating chin he regarded the exquisite
blonde, his thoughts and intentions obvious.
	"Remember the deal," Mr Garth reminded him in an Arabic tongue.
	"Sure, but visitors are normally searched," the guard oozed in the same
language, smiling, licking his lips.
 	"Right girl," spat Miss Wang into Rosemary's blinking eyes as she tried
to appraise her new predicament, "you now in prison - one of toughest around,
surrounded by murderers, rapists and thieves."  She laughed harshly as the
shivering, helpless woman instinctively shrank back, closer to her tormentor.
"Don't worry, you safe for moment - if you behave and do as told.  You here to
put  seduction skills to little test I devise for you.  It no be too hard - with
you dressed up like tart you are!"  	The bound girl's large green eyes
flashed fearfully around the grim surroundings imagining the horrors of humanity
they contained before being drawn back to the grinning guard. Then Miss Wang was
speaking again.
	"The warder, " Miss Wang grabbed her chin between her strong fingers,
"will take you to condemned man with nothing to live for.  Your test to fully
seduce him, f--k him like whore you are, " she laughed as the blonde's eyes grew
even wider. "The man no speak English so you rely on international language of
love.  Unknown to prisoner, if you succeed in f---ing him, he be spared
execution, and you  pass test.  Cell under video surveillance so we see how you
make out.  If you fail, he be executed and you remain in this prison.  Fair
enough?" the sadistic youngster asked reasonably as the trembling blonde began
to shake her pretty head.
	Crack!
	Miss Wang's hand cracked across a soft cheek 
	"You never contradict me.  Believe me Western slag," she spat, "you have
no choice.  If you no successfully f---ed  man by time we finish  meal here, we
leave without you.  Will you do as told, or not?  Or do we leave you here now?"
	Rosemary longed to hold a hand to her stinging cheek but they were
firmly secured behind her.  Helpless, she knew she had to obey, she couldn't
bear remaining here in this frightful place and all that it might entail -
probably being taken by half of the inmates before she could use her tooth to
summon help.  Then, even if she survived, she would have lost any chance of
rescuing Penny.  She knew she had no choice.  The hateful, smirking youngster,
who knew she held all the chips, was awaiting her reply.
	" Yes Miss, I'll do it" she whispered meekly.
	"Wise decision Trixie," laughed Miss Wang, "warder here naturally have
to search you before you taken to the prisoner.  He speak no English but I sure
he make himself understood.  You better obey, or else ... ,"  she glared into
the frightened eyes.  "We leave you in his hands.  If you f-k well  we see you
later, " she flaunted over her shoulder, leaving Rosemary to her fate after
removing the cuffs from her pinioned wrists.
	A look of almost sympathy flicked over the greasy warder's face as the
blonde rubbed circulation back into her hands, her eyes imploring the hated girl
not to leave her. It would be obvious that the youngster was a complete bitch
and that none would want to be so totally in her hands as the captive was.  Then
his expression hardened, again. . He grabbed the strap of Rosemary's dress
indicating that she should remove it. 
	The fragile beauty was forced to strip before him, her lovely clothes
sliding one by one to the grimy floor.   Now she stood awkwardly before him, so
out of place in such surroundings, her shapely body thrusting through the silky
black underwear, hands crossed over her chest.
	"All, all," he managed in English, impatiently twanging the soft, thin
band of her bra.
	His masculinity was an, obvious, hard spear pushing against his trousers
as she finally stood naked and wide-eyed before him in just her fishnet
stockings and suspenders, covering herself with her hands.  The red bud of a
nipple peeked from beneath a slim hand.  Harshly, he grabbed her arms and
positioned them on her head indicating that she should open her mouth wide.  The
blonde's delightful breasts bounced with the upward posture of her arms, the
tight tips of her breasts brushing his soiled uniform.
	He ran exploratory fingers through her hair and into her mouth, making
her flinch and tremble.  Then he slammed her against the rough plaster of the
wall spread-eagled leaning against it on stiff, out-stretched arms, legs widely
spaced from the wall's base.  Moist hands ran down her spine over the dip of her
arched back and between the cool globes of her firm round buttocks.  The soft
down of her pubic hair covering the warmth of her sex lips tickled his curious
fingers. 
	"Ughhh," she winced, shuddering as he probed deeply and simultaneously
into each of her hot orifices. 
	The tight rubbery puckered ring of her anus tried to reject the harsh
stiff intruder but merely had to contend itself with gripping him as he probed. 
The larger opening of her vagina warranted two fingers.  He circled them around
within, the membranes trembling and contracting around him. Her bottom clenched
as she squirmed around his digits.
	Sighing, he withdrew his sticky digits but took the brief opportunity of
pressing himself tightly against her leaning body from behind.  Extracting his
stiffness he allowed it to rest between the cool shrinking roundness of her
buttocks whilst he ran his hands around to her front. He squeezed and mashed her
hard-tipped breasts against the sticky palms of his hands, cruelly pinching to
make her blonde loveliness squirm more against him.  Sighing again he gave each
cheek a hard slap, indicating that she could dress.
	With shaking fingers, feeling soiled, she gratefully did so under the
hot eyes of the fat warder, knowing however, that she would presumably soon have
to remove the garments again.  Her belly flip- flopped as he then led her down a
long corridor past some pitiful specimens of humanity locked in their cells on
either side.  Finally he unlocked a heavy metal door and with a hand in the
small of her back unceremoniously pushed her trembling form within.
	Miss Wang relaxing with a sumptuous meal and a beer laughed as they
watched on the video monitor Rosemary, looking like a street tart, arrive
unceremoniously in the prisoner's cell.  It didn't seem worth while mentioning
to her that the obese Arab lying on his bunk was a homosexual, it would just
give her a test worthy of her excellent attributes.  They were soon rejoined by
the warder who settled down to eat and drink with her and Garth whilst they
enjoyed the show.
	
		----------------------------------------


	It was the smell of his unwashed body and fear which first hit her as
she stumbled to a halt, nostrils flared, before the young Arab hulk sprawled on
the bunk.  He regarded her briefly with tiny piggy eyes before resuming his
contemplation of a spider crawling over the brickwork of his cell wall.
	"Please ... I've come to-to, we can - be t-together," Rosemary whispered
opening her arms and taking an uncertain step towards the sweating heap on the
bunk, trying to make him understand her intentions with her fixed smile.  The
smile didn't however, reach her eyes, which remained wide and desperate as her
natural womanly instincts revolted against the task which lay ahead of her. 
Those instincts urged her to run away out of his sight and smell rather than
touch him - let alone try to seduce him!
	His response startled her, making her flinch back hand over her mouth,
as he jumped to his feet gesturing and shouting angrily, dismissively before
turning his back on her and staring up at the tiny patch of blue sky visible
through the bars of the cell window.  Frightened, she backed against the far
wall catching her breath.  Then, gulping, remembering the threat to leave her
here if she didn't succeed, she took a tentative step towards him, then another. 
Finally, she rested a slim white hand on the stained shoulder of his prison
uniform.  
	Heart pounding, she waited, but he made no other move.  Gently, she
pressed herself against him so that the tips of her breasts rubbed his back. 
Undulating her hips against him and parting her thighs she ground them either
side of one of his huge trunk-like limbs.  Her lips gently brushed his greasy
hair.  It made her shudder but she persevered with her distasteful task,
planting soft light kisses and tickling with her the tip of her tongue the coils
of flesh on his neck.
	Then grabbing her shoulders he pushed her away none too gently to send
her staggering back against the wall.  She couldn't recall having ever been thus
rejected by a man, certainly not when she was making herself as provocative as
she was now.  Rapid and mixed feelings flushed through her befuddled brain. 
Relief that he hadn't leapt on her was tempered with hurt that such an obese
hulk could reject her.  Then fear returned, fear that she would not succeed -
and the terrible consequences.   Perhaps, she thought, he wondered why she was
here.
	Surely though she pondered, the guards would have told him she was
coming?  A prisoner's last request?  Maybe his impending execution weighed
heavily on him and, with a shudder, she realised that he would have nothing to
lose by simply killing her in the cell if she annoyed him.  With a hopeless
mental shrug Rosemary appreciated though that she had to proceed to the best of
her ability or face the prospect of remaining here permanently in this
hell-hole; the thought sent a shudder through her slim body.
	At least the hulk was still looking at her; some progress she thought. 
She smiled inwardly, wondering what Damien would have thought if he could see
her definition of progress - a mild flickering of interest in the eyes of an
ugly Arab whom she desperately wanted to f--k her!  Without tempting fate by
crowding him, she re-fixed the smile to her anguished face, demurely inclining
her head a little whilst holding his eyes with her fluttering lashes. 
	She began to gently undulate her hips provocatively running her hands
from her hair to stroke and cup every curve of her seemingly eager swaying body. 
The beast licked his lips, eyes glinting when she bent slightly to thrust out
her bottom towards him in the skin-tight dress, stroking a splayed hand over the
curves.  Taking the queue from his minute reaction she moved her other hand from
her breasts and placed it alongside the other to cup the cheeks of her swaying
buttocks, inviting him with her head and eyes to stroke his hand over hers. 
	He took a hesitant step and then stopped, uncertain.  Slowly, she
approached him, holding his eyes with the promise in her own.  Fighting back the
sickness she took one of his large sticky hands and placed it on her hips,
keeping them gently thrusting.   Leaning towards him, her body brushing his, her
warm sweet breath washed over his flabby jowls as she again began kissing him,
this time on the stubble around his mouth.  Steeling herself and repressing a
shudder as his foul breath enveloped her, she closed her soft lips over his and
the tip of her tongue began probing within.  Nothing!  She pulled hesitatingly
away wondering what his problem was? 
	Changing tack, she slowly reached behind her to undo and slide her dress
to the floor, shuddering with vulnerable dread.  Hesitatingly she placed his
hands on her body, his touch making her shiver.  He only briefly dallied with
the thrusting orbs before sliding round to hold the firm cheeks of her bottom as
she swayed before him.  Now she was thrusting herself against him, the heat of
her loins pushing against his own.  More importantly he still had a hand on each
cheek of buttocks.  She made them clench and flex enticingly under his touch as
she scissored one of his thighs between hers and began sliding up and down.  Her
lips again brushed the stumble of his neck, darting, tickling, trying to get a
response. There was none!
	She began to wonder whether the slob had anything between her legs and
decided that she should perhaps check in that direction.  Did he even like
women?  Closing her eyes to what her hands were doing she slowly unbuttoned his
prison pyjamas and slid them down his fat smelly paunch.  He stood in just a
pair of filthy underpants - the smell of stale urine increasing somewhat. 
Ignoring that, she gently reached out a red manicured hand and slid it over the
bulge in the pants feeling it twitch then pressed herself against him so that
his soft lump brushed her belly. 
	Fighting back her nausea she slid up and down on tiptoe undulating
against him for awhile longer before deciding that further measures were
required.  Firing some of the last shots in her arsenal, Rosemary seductively
slid the bra from her smooth shoulders to let her breasts fall towards him,
running her fingers over the creamy orbs until her nipples were two red buttons
aimed at his dead-pan eyes. 
	With a snarl her grabbed her shoulders pushing her clinging body away
from him before his huge hands reached out to cruelly and totally ensnare her
breasts so they were no longer visible.  He squeezed the soft flesh smiling at
her squeals of pain, her nipples like two buttons trapped within his hands. 
Futilely she scrabbled at his hands in an attempt to relieve the excruciating
pain.  She pleaded, panting, before remembering that he spoke no English, but
the moistness in her wide, imploring eyes testified to her pain.  
	Very slightly he eased the terrible pressure on her bosoms and then
changed the position of his hands so that he had each of her nipples between
pincer-like fingers.  Incredibly, she did now detect a stirring in his pants. 
Then, with several angry nods and grunts he indicated that she must take her
hands off his, to stop their useless scratching.  That instead, she must take
off the remainder of her garments. 
	Comprehension dawned in her eyes as, ignoring the burning pain in her
breasts, she slid shaking fingers into the delicate wispy material of her pants
and stockings sliding them off her long limbs.  She gasped again as he increased
the pull on her delicate buds to make her stoop and bend as if he was a puppet-
master with a pretty pink, naked doll.  He led her around the tiny confines of
his cell by her nipples, bent over and hands placed obediently behind her back -
as he had indicated with further gestures - just as if he was walking a dog. 
When he had her in the position he wanted he released one bruised morsel of
flesh but maintained his hold on the other.
	"Harggh," she screamed, flinching back as far as she could as he slapped
one hanging breast backwards and forwards with hard stinging fingers whilst
maintaining his pincer grip on the other.
	One glare made her replace her hands obediently behind her as he slapped
her nudity at will, her face, thighs, buttocks - leaving a tattoo of red hand
imprints all over the whiteness of her body.  Then his free hand slid into the
cleft of her curving buttocks to find the hot inviting bud of her anus. Hating
the touch, she squirmed, her cheeks clenching and unclenching as he crudely
pushed a finger past the rubber-like contraction of her tight muscle. The
sphincter gripped him, automatically trying to reject the intruder within. 
However, his finger was embedded deep within her, impaling her.  Desperately
trying to play from his song-sheet she began moving her bottom a little on his
finger as if she was enjoying it. 
	Unexpectedly, he suddenly relinquished his power and hold, pushing her
away, his finger popping free from her bottom as she fell to her knees in the
far corner, holding her tender, throbbing boobs.  She slumped for a moment,
pressing her breasts to ease their terrible burning.  Her bottom also felt hot
and as if it had been turned inside out by the beast's horrid finger within her.
However, with a sigh, she unsteadily regained her feet, knowing she simply could
not give up on the brute glowering at her from the far corner.

		----------------------------------------------------

	Garth, was taking photos of the video scenes in the cell, for the
warder- as the guard had requested.  Although Miss Wang merely looked on
impassive, Garth had a look of admiration on his handsome face as Rosemary
carried on relentlessly with her task.  She glided gracefully, her gorgeous
bottom  swaying seductively, back towards the prisoner, never taking her wide
frightened yet seductive eyes off him as she lay back on his bed.  The warder
too sucked in his breath as the beauty opened her slender thighs until the dark
intimate secrets between them practically pouted at the lucky prisoner - and
those watching on the screen.  Her fingers moved seductively, pulling at the
mauve hair-fringed delicacy between her uplifted legs dipping her own fingers
within both of her orifices then curling them in invitation at the sweating
giant.  She lay further down and turned slightly so that the delicious curve of
her hips and bottom jutted towards him, completely open, gyrating slightly, the
flesh gleaming softly.


	------------------------------------

	The hulk moved tentatively towards the writhing bottom curving towards
him, staring at the fingers which held the cheeks apart to expose her little
puckered rosebud, red-painted and feminine. Like an automation he released his
slightly stiffening penis from his pants. It looked tiny in his huge hand but he
guided it towards the tiny pulsating hole proffered to him.  Its flexing tip
brushed and nudged against the tiny rubber ring of muscle making his organ
harden slightly. One huge finger probed ahead into the round heat whilst the
other hand grasped a smooth white thigh.  He was getting ever stiffer as the
inviting rosebud contracted and flinched away from the tip of the fleshy spear
which was about to invade it. 
	Suddenly though the spell was broken before he pushed in.  Rosemary had
changed position presenting her other, larger, hair-fringed pink entrance to him
and beyond that her breasts were swinging from her kneeling bottom upthrust
position.  With a gasping sob of frustration he slumped back onto the bed
covering his eyes, his manhood shrinking.
	She slowly turned, realising with thanks that his assault in the
unnatural manner had not taken place, seeing the beast's huge frame shake with
sobs setting his many chins wobbling.  She turned to sit beside him feeling
almost sorry for him now.  Also though, she was again hurt that even an ugly
brutal slob such as he, had not found her sufficiently attractive despite her
best efforts.  A bead of sweat popped out on her forehead at the thought of
failure - she simply had to f--k the disgusting brute.
	Running her hands over her face and brushing back her hair she placed a
hand on his thigh.  Pressing and sliding the length of her nudity against him,
she kissed his horrid fat, hairy nipples, sucking and circling them with her
tongue.   She was a wanton abandoned woman with no shame - she had to be and
dare have none.  The hard tips of her breasts dragged down his sagging paunch
like pure white fruit sliding down an old brown barrel as she slid the whole of
her supple nakedness against him slowly sinking to her knees.  He gasped
slightly as her fluttering white hands found the bulge in his pants and cool
hands gently teased down the filthy garment until he too was naked, his still
limp manhood shrunken on his lap.
	Shoulders sagging in resignation she stooped, her tongue fluttering and
stabbing over his shrunken manhood.   Cupping his hairy balls, she stroked them
softly as she looked up at him with wide anxious eyes above the circle of her
working mouth.   He groaned as she gripped his flabby buttocks, her fingers
straying near to the tight hot bud of his anus.  Suddenly his manhood had an
added rigidity so that it almost came alive under her pink licking tongue.
	At once both encouraged and disgusted Rosemary circled her fingers
nearer the heat of that revolting orifice whilst with flared nostrils her
bulging mouth worked avidly up and down his penis, tongue darting and thrusting,
trying to ignore the disgusting smell and taste.  When she felt a little
rigidity between her pouting lips she removed her mouth and clambered up to sit
astride him on his lap as he raised himself to sit upright.  His brown member,
glistening from the workings of her avid mouth, was now several inches long but,
after encircling and stroking it softly with her fingers, she realised it was
still not sufficiently rigid.  However, she at last understood, with a shudder,
the direction of his leanings, appreciating her seeming lack of success with
conventional feminine methods.
	Her dawning realisation made her glance up knowingly now at a picture on
the cell wall of a slim handsome youth.  It was framed with black ribbon and
beside it lay a withered rose.  Perhaps it was the beast's former lover?  Maybe
he was in prison for killing him?  Rosemary would never know - but the
speculation made her shiver slightly in dread.  Yet she knew she must continue
trying to arouse him - she had no realistic choice.    
	He remained pliant under her ministrations, perhaps ashamed of his poor
showing with a woman. Although she had difficulty keeping the revulsion from her
eyes, there was also some sympathy and understanding now.  Gulping, her slim
hand guided his to the cheeks of her bottom and taking one of his fingers, she
pushed it up into the hot tight hole of her bottom suspended over his thighs. 
Her own finger then pushed under his flabby buttocks to push up into his anus
where it began to twist turn and thrust within him.
	

		---------------------------



	Watching on the video, the warder shook his head, an amazed look on his
face as the prisoner's manhood sprang into life to point almost accusingly at
the delicate fringe below the blonde's belly.  She was nearly lost in his flabby
body, a little white girl sitting on her huge brown lover's lap - naked, fingers
thrusting up into each other's bottoms.  His fingers were splayed like bananas
over her round white flesh with one curling up to disappear into the dark cleft
between the cheeks.  The cost to her was obvious.  There was the look of disgust
in her beautiful green eyes, which were moist with tears, as she slowly raised
her haunches above the brown spear and, with both of their fingers thrusting
into each other's bottoms, gently impaled herself.    
	

			----------------------------------



	Rosemary's breath quickened; her goal and the end of her ordeal was in
sight now.  She clasped his hot sweating body against her own and gasped in mock
excitement as his small penis, still not properly rigid, reluctantly slipped a
few inches into her.  She gripped it tightly with her internal muscles, stroking
it, deeming never to let it go until it had done it's job.  She also continued
to work away with her finger in his backside and felt his digit likewise
horribly stretching and exploring her there. She gave him a squeeze of
encouragement with her bottom and closed her eyes, wishing she could also close
her nose, as she leaned against him, bouncing on his lap to plant little kisses
on his neck. Thoughts of Damien again flashed through her mind and she gave
thanks that he would never know about this disgusting episode in her life. 
	She felt the brute move within her, start to shrink, she was in danger
of losing him but she refused to do so.  With bared teeth and flared nostrils
she threw herself at him, biting his ears, crushing herself softness against him
and thrusting a second digit right up into his bottom.  He then suddenly broke
wind on her fingers.  Rosemary was sickened but, overcoming the desire to pull
them out of him she managed to take it as a cue and with an embarrassed squirm,
aided by her fear, she also relaxed her bowel.
	Flurrp!
	At her sudden anal contraction and the spurt of her hot gas on his
fingers he sprang to resurrected life again, swelling within her as she bounced
and moaned more frantically on his lap.  His finger also stiffened further into
her bottom as she screamed and gasped wild encouragement in his ear.
	He collapsed back on the bed with a stupid grin on his face - watching
her.  Her body gleamed softly under a sheen of sweat as she eased herself off
him to wash herself as best she could in the small hand-basin - which she
decided he obviously seldom used.    When she had pulled on her tight clothes
she looked at him again for the first time since their coupling and tried to
smile through her disgust.
	She saw a fat smelly slob who must have committed some unspeakable crime
and who she had just had to screw.  Although there had been no sexual pleasure
for her she had at least the pleasure of achieving her goal and even probably
sparing the brute's life - whether or not he deserved it. 
	She could only guess what he had made of her.  He obviously had no great
interest in her, except for her bottom, yet he must think she was a rampant
whore with an insatiable appetite for sex.  She accepted with an inward smile
that perhaps that statement was partly true, although never willingly with such
an evil creep who had let himself go to that extent.  Nevertheless she knew she
had a healthy desire for sex and, knowing she was beautiful, she was, she
accepted, perhaps rather something of an exhibitionist.  She certainly took a
pride in admiring glances and relished a secret delight in having so many recent
opportunities to receive so many.  Of course, being obliged to do the things she
had done without choice took away any responsibility for her actions.  Thus
although she hated some of the humiliations such as this, she knew deep inside
being honest with herself that many of the attentions and actions were not
totally unwelcome.
	The line of thought made her recall a time a few years back when she had
been held hostage in a bank, an event which had received wide media coverage. 
It had been frightening at first.  She and half a dozen others had been herded
into a storeroom and ordered to strip to their underwear.
	"You won't be hurt if you behave and do as you're told but hostages who
are undressed are less likely to cause trouble," the masked robber had growled
at them.
	With fingers which felt as big and clumsy as cucumbers Rosemary had
unbuttoned and unzipped herself until she like the others stood shivering,
covering herself, yet realising slowly that she was somehow proud of the sly,
admiring looks the robbers afforded her exposed body.
	"Spreadeagle, face down nose to the floor," they were ordered.
	Later, she had to read out the robber's statement standing in a doorway
and dressed only in her bra and pants.  Again, she had experienced an excitement
alongside the apprehension.  Knowing she had a beautiful body, the thought of
all of those people, including Damien, and possibly around the world, who would
see her, made her tingle.  There were probably numerous knights in shining
armour out there who would fantasise about rescuing her. 
	She was almost disappointed when the cameras stopped rolling.  Then, as
the doors to the outside world began to close, her captors, loudly,
humiliatingly, ordered her to strip completely naked.  However, when the door to
freedom had closed they grabbed her faltering hand on its way to her bra-strap
and stopped her striptease.  It had all been for show to put pressure on the
authorities. 
	When a policeman negotiator wanted to verify the safety of the hostages
they were all  tied into chairs.  Hooded, they had their wrists bound tightly
behind them with gags filling their bulging mouths.  In her case, the rag was
tied in place with her own tights.  Still she wore only her underwear.  The hood
was hot and smelly, sweat trickled down her face.  Then she heard muffled
voices.
	Suddenly light and cool air blazed into her stifling world.  The
policeman stood under the robber's gun gazing at her in concern.
	"There copper, I told you she was OK - for now.   The sack over her head
is lined with explosives, we'll set it off if there's any trouble," the robber
had lied. Rosemary could only look imploringly at her potential rescuer, eyes
wide above the gag, unable to tell him of the robber's empty threat. "We'll be
giving her a more thorough search later," the man chuckled, running his hands
down her shoulders to cup her breasts, twanging her bra strap.
	She had struggled helplessly in her bonds at the liberty his hands took
but the robber only laughed.  Briefly she met the policeman's concerned, yet
excited eyes, trying to reassure him, let he know things weren't as bad as the
robber said, but the sack was again pulled down over her head, again rendering
her out of the equation - again just a helpless pawn.    
	It had almost seemed an anticlimax afterwards when they had been untied. 
They were still kept in their underwear, but now under the guard of a female
robber.  She chatted to them almost as if it was the most natural thing in the
world for them to be sitting on the floor in that state, knees up to their chins
whilst the woman justified their cause and hostage taking.  When they were
finally rescued, she had felt almost a sense of disappointment that her ten
minutes of fame were over.   	
	Back to reality, and Rosemary again almost experienced a sense of pride
when, although trussed up again and being led blindly back to the car, Mr Garth
lightly tapped her bottom.
	"Well done Trixie, you did well.  Saved a life and, who knows, converted
a homosexual with your enthusiastic relish to f-k!."
	

TO BE CONTINUED

		THE SEARCHER  /  CAMP OF ANGELS - PART 7




					CHAPTER  15



	Unlike her younger sister, Rosemary had no talent for the stage. 
Nevertheless she, with all of the other Angels, found herself quaking with
embarrassment on a stage before the grandstand on which were seated all of the
attendants and guests, most of whom were laughing and smirking at the amateur
show.  The performers were all wearing identical light blue see-through leotards
with the breasts and bottoms of every girl, and the genitalia of the two men,
pushing through the tight fitting costumes.   They went through their set
pieces, with fixed smiles having to be permanently in place on their faces, and
now graced with stage make-up.
	The karaoke song Rosemary and four others were performing, 'I Will
Survive', seemed very apt as they sang it with as much enthusiasm as they could
muster, knowing they had to.  Next to them other Angels were high stepping in a
chorus line to the music which made their bodies jiggle and bounce to the
obvious delight of the audience. 
	Their next number was appropriately enough, 'Slave To Love' - they were
only able to select their chosen repertoire from songs which were considered
'right for the occasion.  How it galled all of them having to sing earnestly as
best they could such words, now real to them, whilst the crowd jeered at the
inevitable flat notes or missed stanzas.    
	They then tried their hardest with the Line Dancing but their were many
lapses which attracted catcalls from the audience and jotted notes in Miss
Wang's book of pain.  Fear and shame were their main companions as, without any
real choice, they sweated and bounced through the routine. 
	For the several slow numbers which concluded that section of the show
Rosemary found herself grinding round the floor with the cross-dressing man who
had spoken to her whilst they had built the railway.   To a casual observer they
would look like two blonde girls dancing a slow number  - seemingly much in
love.  One was nearly naked with most of her beauty on show whilst the other was
elegantly attired and with her hands sliding over every curve of the other's
beauty. However, their slow lingering kisses seemed genuine - only Rosemary
would know the sickening feelings within her!
	Around her, her friends were in similar predicaments. Lindsey danced
with a large muscular Negro.  She was lost in his broad black arms enfolding her
body as he clasped her buttocks flexing under her costume.  Carol and Linda were
entwined in other arms, each earnestly holding their partner and hungrily
returning their kisses. Their training was bearing fruit Rosemary thought
miserably.   
	

			-----------------------------
	
 

	Rosemary, like the others, was now completely naked on the stage and
caught in the harsh glare of the spotlights; they showed various handprints on
her breasts, thighs and buttocks.  Those imprints made her bitterly recall the
striptease they had just had to perform as an act after the dancing.  Again with
the fixed smile on her face she had slowly slipped the costume from her body,
wiggling and stroking herself shamelessly as she slowly revealed her beauty. As
previously instructed she had to splay her legs lewdly and draw the discarded
costume back and forth over her sex.   Her face had burned with shame at the
comments and whistles as she gyrated, but worse was to come. 
	The striptease had finished with lap-dancing.  How she had wanted to
remain in the relative security of the stage - but that wasn't permitted. 
Following the routine drilled into them that day by Miss Mitzie, Rosemary led
the other nude girls in seductively stepping down and into the sweating,
laughing audience of lechers.  Almost instantly Rosemary had been pulled onto
the lap of a big American brute.  Obediently remembering her instructions she
had splayed her legs either side of his, writhing her body like a snake as she
drew her hands up over her jiggling breasts to then keep them planted firmly on
her head, giving him full rein.  She recalled yelping in pain as his large hands
mashed her breasts, yet still keeping up her act and her smile.  Then his podgy
fingers intruded between her legs, palm upwards on her vulva they curled up into
her, making her wriggle even more.   Oh how she hated his large thick fingers,
as big as sausages, twisting and turning up into both entrances of her body.  
One grizzled man must have been in his seventies, big and with iron- grey hair. 
He had not been satisfied until his bony fingers were fully embedded in her and
her sweat was dripping and flicking onto his clothing with her wild, bouncing,
obscene movements. His other hand cruelly squeezed her jiggling breasts and
curving bouncing bottom.
	The women in the audience were just as bad.  A large Indian, complete
with a jewel elegantly suspended on her forehead, grabbed her, pulling her down
to sit side-saddle on her sari.  Again, Rosemary had to endure and pretend to
enjoy the attentions of the dark hands mauling her.  She responded with an
eager, open mouth, returning the woman's kisses in full, pressing her soft
breasts against her. The lap-dance session had been a nightmare of slobbering
mouths and hot crawling fingers.
	Then, on other laps, she could almost still feel the hard throbbing
roots of the erections pressing up obscenely against her bottom, the wet hairy
crutches where the women had pushed her hands as she danced for their amusement. 
Fingers had filled and stretched her sex and anus, and her bosoms throbbed from
spiteful biting.    
	Sloane Ranger - Elaine had also to writhe on the lap of a woman.  She
was a large cropped hair brute chewing gum who took a delight in bouncing the
young blonde on her lap, slobbering over the wildly jiggling ripe young breasts
whilst her hands fanned over the tight bottom.
	Rosemary cringed, imagining her Penny probably having to endure similar
indecencies as she no doubt put on her show a few weeks previously.  Where was
she now? Rosemary wondered.  Hopefully they would be reunited soon so that she
could summon help for them both.  Thankfully though Miss Mitzie had called an
end to the session and they had to stand in a line before the hooting audience
to bow and curtsey deeply  before the next phase of the show began.
	Shaking her head she dispelled the recollections of the lap-dancing and
concentrated on the present.  The grim expression on her face and that of the
others couldn't have contrasted more drastically than with those of the audience
- knowing that worse was to come. 
	"It's quiz hour ladies and gentlemen," boomed the hearty voice of Miss
Mitzie.  "This will be the finish to the evening's entertainment," she smiled at
the gloating faces in the grandstand and then at the four teams who were already
in a considerable state of discomfort. 
	Rosemary was now with her team sitting painfully astride a triangular
shaped wooden frame one behind the other.  It looked like a long dog's kennel
its pointed roof over a metre from the ground.  This meant that the feet of the
uncomfortably seated team members could not reach the floor and thus their full
weight rested on the sensitive flesh at the apex of their splayed thighs. 
Straps fastened to their ankles prevented them attempting to lift their legs and
their wrists were secured alongside their necks into a horizontal plank like a
yoke connecting them all together in their team.  She wriggled her bare toes,
suspended inches above the floor.  How she longed to be able to press them to
the ground, to ease the excruciatingly sharp pain eating up into her sex.  Just
breathing heavily, lifting her ribcage, made the pain worse, so she kept her
breaths as shallow as possible.  How she also longed to claw the eyes from the
amused eager faces in the audience.  That was not an option, however, she had to
remain in place attempting to keep the smile on her face.   
	"All righty ladies and gentlemen," continued Miss Mitzie theatrically,
"tonight I am assisted by the lovely Dixie who, as entertainment coordinator,
has the honour of penalising the losing teams."
	As if she were a television game show host, Mitzie took Lindsey's
trembling hand.  She ensured that the Italian girl alongside her, as naked as
the team members on their uncomfortable perches, bowed deeply to the audience,
setting her breasts bouncing.  Like the others, she had to keep a fixed smile on
her face. 
	"For those who don't know the rules," Mitzie went on, her arms draped
around the dip of Lindsey's shapely bare waist, "they are very simple. Members
of the audience call out questions one at a time and the winning team of that
round is the one which first to give the correct answer.  Those teams who do not
answer or who get it wrong have a 5 kilo weight added by my lovely assistant, to
their plank."  She possessively patted Lindsey's bottom, whispering in a hiss to
the shaking girl to smile more deeply.
	" The game ends," she continued, "when the first team has 10 weights,
that's 50 kilos, on the plank.  The team with the least number of weights is the
winner and they are allowed to get down from their uncomfortable perches- and
believe me that edge eats right up into their sweet crutches," she gave a mock
grimace." All other teams have to remain in place for a minute for every weight
they carry.  Thus the losing team will have pretty sore botties," she laughed,
again patting Lindsey's backside, drawing the smiling girl closer to her.
	The audience heard the shuddering gasps from each team and saw the
heaving shoulders above the already tortured flesh.    They had been wondering
just how much longer they could stand the sharp biting pain of that ridge
cutting up into their sensitive flesh, pressed down simply by their own weight -
and now they knew it would get worse!
 	"Well, I can see that the teams are eager to start, " boomed Mitzie,
slapping Lindsey's bottom with a resounding crack,  making her jump, her smile
faltering.  She turned to the audience. " Someone start us off with the first
question please.  Any topic; yes, the lady in the long blue dress, third row."
	
		-----------------------------------------------------------

	Any shift in position sent shards of fresh pain up into Rosemary's
tortured body, providing a jolt of further agony for a team already burdened by
five heavy weights on the plank through which their heads protruded.  Any sudden
move represented a scorching line of white- hot fire deep into her.
	 Whilst having to endure the pain, threatening to cut them in two, they
also had to concentrate to keep their minds sharp enough to understand and
answer the questions being fired from the laughing audience.  Like the others,
beads of sweat trickled down Rosemary's strained face.  Abstractly, she watched
a rivulet trickle down Carol's spine where her shapely buttocks were painfully
splayed either side of the cruel black ridge pushing up into them. The older
woman was seated immediately in front of her and she saw the glistening trail
gradually disappear down into the deep cleft of her companion's nates.
	She had momentarily lost concentration.  With a shuddering sigh,
Rosemary heard one of her team members impetuously shout out an answer to which
the questioner in the audience gleefully shook his head.  Now the remaining
teams who had so far sensibly remained silent had 15 seconds to consider their
answers.  Shoulders sagging with apprehension and almost hatred she saw the
sweating, straining figure of Lindsey look briefly in their direction.
	Presently the Italian girl was hefting a weight onto another team's
plank, producing a thin gasp of pain, but the pressure was on her too.  It would
be impossible for her to show or probably feel, any compassion for her friends
in the quiz. She had to constantly scurry round hefting the heavy weights whilst
also noting to whom she had to give her next burden of pain.  Her body shone
with effort, her face lined with concentration.  The answers often came faster
than she could run and she had a permanent backlog of weights to allocate as the
game continued. When indeed, she had made a mistake in adding a weight to the
wrong team's plank Miss Mitzie's cane had lashed out cruelly across the curved
sheen of her back making her scream - much to amusement of the audience.  
	"Haah," Rosemary gasped through gritted teeth, the sinews standing out
in her neck, as Lindsey carefully lifted the fresh burden of agony onto her
shoulders which their last wrong answer had just earned.
	How could she take this, she wondered as the extra weight crushed her
down, the sharp unforgiving apex pushing further up into her splayed sex.  Her
teeth were bared, momentarily glaring at Lindsey, the instigator of her pain.
However, the girl could afford no compassion, she had no time as she already
cast anxious glances around, obviously desperately thinking ahead to the
destination of her next weight.
	Rosemary and the rest of her team had collected eight weights when the
game was over, the second highest score.  Those equivalent number of minutes
sitting silent and still on that cutting edge, whilst the audience left their
seats to wander around the teams, seemed to be the longest of her life.  She was
constantly blinking away the sweat pooling in her eyes where it distorted the
leering faces of the observers who stared at her, seemingly drinking in her
pain.  She heard a low whining noise, wishing whoever it was would shut up,
before realising with a start it was herself.  Every minute or so one of the
other teams with less weights would be released and they too would cry out with
the pain of the act of swinging their taut legs off the roof and of the
circulation being restored.
	After she had been released, Rosemary, shamelessly, ignoring the hoots
of laughter, crouched and pressed her hands up into her burning, sex to ease the
throbbing pain.  Most of her fellow team members were doing likewise,
undignified but so necessary.   She tried to find some pity for the losing team
with their heavier weight and on their evil perch for two more minutes but one
could think only of oneself in this place.
	The final act of the evening was the presentations by the Angles to Miss
Mitzie and Miss Wang.  Rosemary could hear giggles erupting from the crowd as
she so deferentially presented the pretty little lace knickers on which they had
obviously worked so hard.  Mr Garth had earlier made them all practice the
required curtsy - but Rosemary's was now seemingly insufficient for Miss Wang. 
Three times she had to perform the debasing act, accompanied by titters from the
audience, before the youngster was satisfied.
	"You maybe a little sore?" the young bitch nodded at Rosemary's curly
thatch.
	"Yes Miss," she whispered.	
	Everyone present knew how much she must hate the gloating youngster who
made her life hell.  Nevertheless, she bowed deeply with her offering, glazing
her eyes from the mocking smile of the girl who so casually and disdainfully
threw it into the growing heap of gifts.  All had been so dutifully worked on
for no reward, just despair and humiliation for them, and amusement for the
watchers.




					CHAPTER 16





	Her mouth dry with dread, Rosemary was being taken on another march,
between two guards.  This time, however, Mrs Leilla was also in attendance. 
When she reached a door in the guest's quarters, the woman briefly addressed
her.
	"Remember, you must love anyone and everyone who owns you, who takes on
your parole. Make clear that they are at that moment, the only person in your
mind and heart - your life depends on your enthusiasm.  Go ahead, demonstrate
this to the person within, it doesn't matter who they are or how repulsive they
may appear to you.  This is a little perk for a friend of mine, and  it is good
practice for your future.  You give everything you have," Mrs Leilla emphasised,
"you also maybe say goodbye to your friends today."  Rosemary quaked with equal
mixtures of dread and excitement at what the woman's statement could mean! 
Would she soon discover Penny's whereabouts?  Further speculation was stifled as
Mrs Leilla gently knocked on the door, pushing Rosemary to a stumbling halt
within. 
	Reminding her somewhat of the prison, the smell of another unwashed body
washed over her as she collected her senses within the darkened room.  Fear ate
her innards.  Fear at who or what awaited her.
	"Come in further little pretty," the voice came from the shadows.
	Her stomach flipped, nearly making her retch.  It was the horrible Arab,
Abdul, Mrs Leilla's accomplice who had first kidnapped her.  He sat waiting for
her like an oily toad. 
	"Close the door little girl, we want to be alone - as lovers - yes?" 
His finger crooked in a lurid invitation she knew she daren't refuse.
	Wildly her eyes darted to the amused Mrs Leilla, seeking in vain any
spark of pity at what she was forcing a fellow woman to endure.  Instead, with a
wink and a smile, she simply helped Rosemary to close the door on her fate.
	"Where this enthusiasm I hear you Angels supposed to have?" Abdul's
smile reminded her how brown were his remaining teeth. "Do I have to report some
reluctance?" he grinned cruelly.
	Her brain snapped out of its spasm.  What was she thinking of!    He was
just flesh and blood, now matter how repulsively arranged.  And her life - and
Penny's - depended on her taking him into her arms - and legs.  Repressing a
shudder she moved seductively towards him.
	Taking a deep breath she bent low over his gross, seated figure, so her
cleavage practically spilled out.  Stroking the back of his head she kissed his
grizzled cheek closing her eyes as her lips edged towards his mouth.  His jowls
were greasy from food spillage, his stubble scratching her soft cheeks. 
	 "Please may I f--k you," only just in time did she remember the
required greeting, reluctantly brushing his thin lips with her own, scarcely the
same woman who he had first kidnapped just a week or two ago.
	"I not sure I want to," he chuckled.  "You slow in showing proper
respect.  We visit some of your friends first, before they leave here, perhaps
they remind you of duties.  Then I decide about you."  	Whilst she flushed at
the rejection from such a beast, he fastened her wrists up between her shoulder
blades, making her open her mouth wide, pushing a ball gag within her stretched
jaws, fastening the cord behind her neck.  He then put her on a leash and led
her down the corridor to knock on another door.   After putting his grizzled
head around the door and following a brief exchange of conversation he ushered
her in with a hand on her swaying bottom.
	"Down."  Abdul made Rosemary kneel obediently beside him like a pet dog.
	Within the semi-dark room she saw Carol standing suspended by her
wrists, her arms pulled up high enough so that her toes were just able to touch
the ground to take her weight.  A pair of blacked out goggles prevented her from
seeing her prospective owner who stood admiring her, chatting with Miss Wang.  
He was a regal-looking Arab lad, probably still in his teens, someone who was
probably younger than Carol's own son.  Her body was taut, trembling arc of
trepidation, tongue nervously licking her lips, as the Chinese girl idly stroked
her captive's sleek thighs.  Her hateful voice sounded like a car salesperson as
she assessed the bound woman's charms.
	" I hope you find her just as expected, Sire - from photos and videos of
her.  She mature but well preserved and quite docile now, she not hurt you.  She
had children," the yellow hands patted the flat plain of Carol's belly, "but it
no show.   Please help yourself, feel her up."
	The elegant brunette flinched as firstly Miss Wang's hands possessively
patting her thighs and bottom and then the client's fingers stroked over her. 
Those hands seemed at first hesitant and inexperienced, however they soon
plucked up courage rudely poking prodding and pinching.  They made her cry out
and twist under her unyielding bonds, stumbling from her pointed toes so that
she gasped as her whole weight momentarily jerked onto her arms as she tried to
twist away from the hot inquisitive fingers.
	Crack!
	"Ooohh," she gasped as Miss Wang's hand smacked across her cheek.
	"Keep still bitch, illustrious client wish to feel you," she hissed.
	Obediently now, she remained still her teeth bared as both of her
nipples were pinched and twisted in a vice-like grip, pulling her sensitive orbs
right up and out to cause even more pain. 
	Then the young lad's hands seemed to grow tired of causing pain and
instead they explored the fuzzy black felt mound of her sex.  Brusquely Miss
Wang told her to open her thighs, adding to the pain of her stretched toes. 
First stroking over the ripe plumpness of her sex lips, the fingers then 
crudely poked straight up into her, twisting and turning, exploring both
orifices.
	Carol had the humiliation of Miss Wang directing and positioning the
inexperienced fingers in her body, showing them how to tease out her womanly
passions.  Slowly, possibly unwillingly at first,  her body responded to the
intruding digits.  She gave a frustrated jerk of her hips as the fingers
withdrew.
	"She's quite a nice lady, all hot and sticky.  I'll maybe take her, I've
never been allowed a pet before," the voice laughed.
	Rosemary could imagine how Carol's mind must be reeling as she heard her
very future discussed by the client unseen beyond her goggles. How she must have
yearned for the goggles to be removed or briefly be lifted to allow her at least
a glimpse of her tormentor.  That would give her just a clue as to his identity,
enabling her to at least see the person who had just explored her so intimately.
	"Would you kindly release her and allow us a little time alone please,"
the voice asked, answering her silent plea.
	"Surely," responded Miss Wang, "but if she at all disobedient someone
will deal with her.  Remember that bitch," she added to Carol as she slackened
that dreadful pull on her victim's arms and released her wrists.  The poor woman
stood blindly, uncertainly, jumping slightly at the loud bang of the door
closing behind Miss Wang.
	"You may remove your goggles and then stand legs astride with your arms
folded behind you, between your shoulder-blades," the soft voice commanded.
	Blinking with the return of light and vision Carol gasped saw the slim
Arab lad before her in traditional colourful robes.  Then to one side she
glanced, blushing, at Abdul with Rosemary kneeling beside him on her leash. 
Silent tears began tracking the older woman's face as she contemplated her fate.   
Although young, the boy's unblinking black eyes held hers with a cruel
intensity.
	"I believe I told you how to stand girl," he said matter-of- factly in a
soft, even voice.
	Immediately Carol assumed the position, which automatically thrust her
generous breasts out towards him.  As he slowly advanced gooseflesh broke out
over her shivering nudity.  Then his small soft hands reached out to stroke the
soft underside of her orbs, the nipples immediately and involuntarily firming
up.
	"You like being touched there girl?"
	" I-I ...  Yarrggh," Carol gasped as the fingers suddenly and cruelly
flicked one of those sensitive red buds. 
	Rosemary saw the control she exercised to prevent her folded hands
covering her jutting fruit but she managed to restrain herself.   He now stroked
them again.
	"Did that hurt girl?"
	"Yes Sir."
	"Whose tits are they?"
	"Y-yours Sir," she sobbed the only possible response.
 	"Good, good, " he smiled.  "And whose c--t is this?"
	"Yours Sir."  Carol gave the expected response as he began a slow crude
inventory of her body.
	"A nice firm bum for a woman your age I should think, not too big, but I
like the way it wobbles when I shake it."  A tear slowly formed in one of her
large eyes as the youngster humiliated her. 
	"They said you were a bit old, but you've got big tits and I like that,"
he purred, his hands now stroking over the silken flesh of her melons again. 
"Shake them for me so they wobble."  She shook her large thrusting bosoms before
his young amused eyes. "My parents rule Hassan, they're very rich and were
determined that I as an only child spend my whole childhood locked away from
others with my tutors learning, always learning, " he mused as he thumbed her
large protruding nipples. "Then suddenly they realised that my whole view of the
outside world and its experiences was confined to the pages of magazines and
videos.  Thus, as a present on reaching my manhood, they told me I could have my
own pet girl.  Someone mature enough to teach me other matters.  I have read all
there is to read on such subjects but you will show me the reality."
	Rosemary imagined the woman's shame, now nothing more than a sex toy for
a spoilt child!  His hands were now stroking through her long hair and down over
the smooth curves of her bottom.
	"You will keep your hands behind you and with your teeth, remove my
robes.  I will lay on my back and you will sit astride me and f--k me.  If I am
not satisfied I will tell that charming Miss Wang.  Understood?"
	"Yes Sir."
	Carol hesitantly looked at Abdul and Rosemary, and the Arab youngster
followed her gaze.
	"No worry, we go now I just show this one some alternatives," he flashed
an almost toothless smile.  Rosemary's eyes were wide above her gag, trying to
say goodbye and good luck to Carol, before a tug on her leash made her rise and
she was led from the room.



	--------------------------


	In an adjoining room they found Lindsey knelt astride muscled ebony body
of a Negro. The long black erect flagpole of desire jutted up like a mast to
reach beyond her navel.  Face flushed, she looked up as Rosemary was led in but
the large brute merely pointed to his erection.  He then lay back, hands relaxed
under his head as he obviously enjoyed her attentions.  Arching his back as she
knelt upright, raising her hips, he gasped as the wet heat at the join of her
thighs and the soft wisps of her curly hair tickled the tip of his penis. 
Closing her eyes Obviously trying to ignore her audience, she carefully
positioned her splayed limbs, her head down so that the curtain of her dark hair
cascaded around her graceful sensuous face.  Then, with a gasp from both of
them, she slid down onto him.
	"Hmm ... 'dah' woman fits like a glove," the Negro winked at Abdul, "Now
work on it girl," he demanded of the Italian beauty.
	He closed his eyes too as she began, her breasts bouncing wildly as she
rode him, pumping her loins eagerly up and down.  Soon, the taut sinews of
Lindsey's thrown back neck and closed eyes were a testament to her own pleasure. 
With a bowed head her soft lips were kissing his hard nipples, her hair tickling
his neck and face.  Tightly grasping her breasts, black fingers encasing white
flesh, he pumped his lust up into her willing sex.   
	The tour of shame continued with Rosemary being led into a lighter room
where Mr Garth and the hideous observer, Mr Smith, sat relaxed on easy chairs. 
Linda wearing only a small white pinafore and a black G-string over her lush
nudity served them tea. 
	"Don't forget our guest," Mr Smith instructed in his weedy voice,
totally ignoring the kneeling figure of Rosemary as Abdul was given refreshment.
"Now squat again with the ashtrays please," he told Linda.
	Rosemary at first wondered why she winced and only gingerly assumed the
position before him, wobbling on the balls of her feet, arms out horizontally to
hold ashtrays in each hand.  Then she heard the humming from between her thighs
splayed necessarily wide for balance and saw the slight movement under the black
line dissecting the oyster-like lips of her sex.  It was not as she had assumed
a conventional G-string.  Noticing the rapt expression on the blonde's shining
face, her rapid breathing, she guessed that a vibrator was doing its business.
	"Don't lower them or I shan't let you come," Mr Smith ordered to correct
a slight wavering of the trembling arms.  Rosemary, kneeling beside her, could
only offer wide-eyed sympathy for the blonde hairdresser as for ten long minutes
she bit her lips to control her feelings and maintain her unmoving posture. 
	"We'd better be leaving soon my pet," Mr Smith, patted Linda's head,
"but maybe Mr Garth would like to give you a going-away present as he is
probably better in that department than me," he gave a sickly chuckle.
	 Now her feelings of sympathy turned to envy.  The Arab hulk pulled
Linda to her feet, sliding down her damp G-string which had kept in place a long
black rubber vibrator - now coated in her love juices.  Without further ado he
bent her over the coffee table, kneeling to take her from behind whilst her
blonde heaä rested in Mr Smith, her new owner's, lap.  His weedy hands held
those of Linda, now contorted into rigid talons of orgasmic lust as Mr Garth so
expertly pumped his length into her dripping sex.
	"Mmm, aaaahhh, yeeeees," her cries still echoed in Rosemary's ears as,
unseen by Linda, she was led from the room.
	Finally, Rosemary was almost relieved to be led back to the privacy of
the room with Abdul and her bonds removed. 
	"You see what friends doing before they leave. I not sure I still want
to though," he chuckled.  "Maybe I report lack of enthusiasm to Mrs Leilla or
Miss Wang?  They teach you lesson."  Rosemary gulped in dread at the thought. 
"Show wares first and I decide."
	She was crimson with both shame and rage at the games he was making her
play but now quaking with terror that she might be punished rather than going on
to her destiny - and hopefully find Penny.  Running her hands slowly over her
body, cupping her breasts, she removed her dress, down her waist to slide it 
teasingly over her bottom, wiggling it at him.
	"Please, I-I want you, I want to f-k you hard," she breathed with as
much lust and enthusiasm as he could muster.
	With the overload of sensations washing over it, her brain threatened to
revolt.  She was standing naked, trying to entice an old, ugly Arab creep,
someone who she would normally cross the road to avoid in case he begged her for
money or simply touched her.
	"Show me first little girl. Show me how many fingers you can take; your
fingers." He spoke softly settling back in his chair.
	  The thought of playing with herself before anyone normally turned her
off; it was an intimate act with her imagination.  Now, before him, the concept
positively revolted her.  How she hated the smug look on his fat face, his
tongue greedily licking his lips.  Yet there was no choice, she had to come
through this, find Penny, survive and win.
	Somehow fixing what she hoped was a seductive smile on her face, her
fingers began trailed through her soft down whilst her hips swayed from side to
side.  She slid them between her sex lips, rubbing up against the sleeping bud. 
Desperately thinking of Damien, Miles and Mark she tried to obtain some
lubrication.  Managing to get two fingers just inside her lips, bending them,
she gave the impression of them sliding up and down, deep in and out.
	" No enough. I think I want three," he insisted, " and I want to see
them.  Bend over with back to me, legs apart."
	The game was up. Rosemary winced as she bent over and had to thrust
three of her own fingers into herself.
	"Hmm," she changed her gasp into a moan of pleasure as she pushed them
deep into her sex and began pumping slowly in and out.  Head down, hair
cascading around, she looked back between her own spread legs, past her fingers,
moving so disgustingly, seeing his leering face.
	
	--------------------------------


	
	Huh, huh, huh," she grunted like the animal she had become in time with
his brutal thrusts.
	Indeed she was little more than an animal.  He had her kneeling on all
fours, clasping her against the rolls of wobbling fat which was his belly, with
a hand crushing her swinging breasts, slimy loins slapping against her clenching
bottom.  His horrible, obscene penis slid in and out, filling her.  It was just
lucky that he couldn't see the disgust, rage and shame etched into her beautiful
face as she ostensibly rutted willingly with him, her hips pumping urgently to
get the deed over with.  
	She shuddered as he swelled within her, drooling against her neck,
feeling him begin to quiver and groan.  His thrusts became more urgent and
deeper, and so her fake moans.
	"Ah, ah, ah," she jerked in unison with him. "Hmm, so big, strong, f--k
me hard, please, I'm coming," she repeated the words drilled into her.
	They worked.  His hot, moist hands tightened painfully, cruelly over her
orbs as he jetted and jerked into her whist she screamed her fake orgasm against
the floor, her eyes wet with tears of self-pity as his flabby body pressed
obscenely against her.





----------------------------------------------------------


	After glancing rapidly around in the darkness of the early hours of the
morning the hooded figure carefully eased back the door lock of Damien's hotel
suite, which was set in a single floor annex alongside the main hotel.  The Arab
man's otherwise silent entry was spoilt by the opening door tipping over a tray
propped against it but rather than running and thus possibly attracting
attention he froze like a cat.  The hard glinting eyes beneath the mask blinked
several times to accustom themselves to the darkness of the room, alert for any
signs of movement.  However, after waiting patiently silent and still for a full
minute his eyes gradually made out the unmoving bulge under the sheets of the
double bed.  
	The intruder didn't know the reason for him being asked to kill the
Western man in the hotel room, but a glance at the label on the suitcase told
him he had the correct room and quarry - Peterson!  He didn't even know the man
who had paid for it to be done.  It was better that way with anonymity on both
sides - just an impersonal task.  His eyes narrowed in concentration as he
decided that now was a good enough time to earn his fee, the man was obviously
not going to stir.  At first his hand closed over the butt of the gun in his
pocket then he decided that as his victim was asleep he could rely on other
means.  As if by magic the knife blade appeared in his hand as he crept on the
balls of his feet to the bed and, aiming for the centre plunged the knife down
once, twice, three times into the reclining shape, feeling its keen blade
cutting through all resistance. 








				CHAPTER 17


	Now it was Rosemary's turn, she was being led to meet her new owner. 
Wearing just her short white Angel dress, her wrists were fastened behind her
and a silken sack had been pulled down to her shoulders totally covering her
head to render her blind and unrecognisable.  Beneath the hood a rag filled her
mouth, secured with a black strap to gag her.  She had thus been transported
from the training camp having to lie face down in the back of a windowless van. 	
Throughout the trip her feelings surged from elation to fear.  What if, after
all this time, she wasn't to be with Penny?  There were many observers
interested in having an Angel on parole.  Would she have to endure another agony
of waiting, hoping to hear something of her sister?  Yet she just couldn't take
any more of this.  She'd just have to summon help today, hoping that someone
might know her sister's whereabouts.
	Miss Mitzie's firm grip on her arm and the pull of the golden leash
around her throat guided her bare feet over the carpeted floors.  She was
momentarily halted for a door to be opened ahead of her and then ushered within.
	"Your new property Sir," announced the Negress as if discussing a new
washing machine. "You have I know paid the fee and I gather your instructions
were for us to just deliver her here without making any direct contact with you
to maintain your anonymity.  So I'll just leave her on the floor as requested
and let myself out.  She's still trussed up and will cause you no problems, so -
all yours."
 	Although Rosemary's heart began to beat faster in anxious trepidation
she also felt excited.  She had that morning been told that her new owner had
selected her some time ago.  It was with almost a sense of pride that she
realised the extent to which someone desired her, and the lengths they had gone
to possess her.  Her doubts during the journey temporarily dimmed.  Her women's
intuition told her that at long last she might be getting close to Penny? 
Indeed, as she drew ever closer to her destination her thoughts turned more to
her sister as if the bond between them was amplified by a lessening of distance.
	Miss Mitzie had tucked her ankles under her bound wrists to render her
just as immobile as on the day of her first capture.  Then she heard her leave,
closing the door behind her.
	She was helplessly sightlessly bound awaiting her fate.  Eventually she
heard new, heavy footsteps and her stomach flip-flopped in nervous anticipation.
	Although hands released her confined ankles, they left the sack over her
head and her wrists bound and, without a word, led her by the chain around her
neck into another room.  She felt her pinioned wrists being dragged up behind
her back by some pulley in the ceiling she guessed until she was bent right
over, the sack still firmly over her head preventing her seeing.
	"Ah," she yelped in fear, trembling as she felt a knife slide down her
dress, brutally cutting it off, stripping her naked, but leaving her still
hooded and gagged.
	"Hmm, very good," a voice commented, patting her flanks as if she was no
more than a farmer's cow.  "OK Pixy, give her six with the cane on her arse to
welcome her."
	"Yes master."
	 Rosemary's heart raced.  Although not the wild and fun loving voice she
remembered, the low, servile response could only be her Penny.  Her fuddled
brain also tried to cope with where she had heard the name, 'Pixie,' before. 
Then, with gritted-teeth fury she recalled the inscription on Miss Wang's whip. 
Another thought tugging at her was the vaguely familiar voice giving the order?  
Then she heard a movement behind her.
	"Paaaaggh," she could only grunt pitifully under and unintelligibly
through the gag and hood.
	Desperately she clenched her buttocks.  Her own sister was going to beat
her.  If the gag hadn't been filling her mouth, denying movement of her tongue,
she would have begun rubbing the tooth immediately.  Then all further rational
thought was denied her. 
	"Hrghhh."
	She screamed through the gag after the thin whistle heralded the kiss of
thin wood across soft flesh, amazed at the strength in her sister's arm.  Maybe
Penny too now took a secret delight in inflicting rather than receiving pain? 
However, before considering anything else she must absorb and deal with the
reality of the blazing agony across the taut flesh of her buttocks.  She had to
concentrate her energies in controlling the pain and preparing for the next
stroke.
	Sobbing after Penny's final lash had curved into her, making her bottom
flesh burn and throb agonisingly, that almost familiar voice returned.
	"Good girl Pixy, assume the position before the new arrival please."
	Rosemary gasped, blinking as the hood and gag were removed from her wet
face to reveal Penny standing before her, hands on head, mouth wide and tongue
sticking rigidly out.  Although creased in pain, Rosemary's face brightened into
a rapturous smile of greeting.  In contrast, her young sister's pretty mouth
gaped wide in amazed shock before crumpling as she realised that she had just
beaten her elder sister!  Then, at a shout and a look from her master she
quickly controlled herself, sticking her tongue back out and remaining immobile. 
	It was, thought Rosemary, so good to see Penny again and her looking so
fit, well and undeniably beautiful.  Her tears of pain from the beating changed
to tears of pleasure that they were at last together. Her long and painful quest
was over.  It was however distressing to see Penny in such demeaning
circumstances, naked, tongue ridiculously protruding, so subservient and
frightened - just like herself she realised with a shock.  Still, all of that
was nearly over now.  Penny would think it odd to see the joy in her face after
having just been so severely caned.  Then Rosemary's triumph vanished, her owner
had strolled into her vision and she saw his face. 
	"Yes my dear," purred Miles smiling at her own shock, "we meet again.  I
am your owner - you and your charming sister both now.  I wonder how many times
you have been tempted to rub your tongue over that useless bug I put in your
mouth - your lifeline," he laughed.   You went through everything pinning all
your hopes on that tooth, enduring more, waiting for the right moment.  I told
my colleagues not to 'find' it or tell you we knew about it.  Activate it now,"
he laughed as her tongue worked, "it will do you as much good as shouting.  You
though are now a true slave, my dear woman.  Not for you a short term contract
and then the option of release, I shall break the rules and keep you for good,
both of you." I've rented this house for a week under a false name, just as I
did when I bought little Penny.   By the time anyone knows what's going on -
I'll have moved on again, the strange anonymous purchaser will have vanished,"
he smiled. "I am of course part of the Lavery Organisation," he explained with a
self-satisfied smirk, " The English recruitment officer if you like.   I've
already introduced my wife, Carol - Slapper, to the organisation and now you and
your sister."
	"You bastard. Oh, please, please, no," Rosemary sobbed pitifully.
	Miles smiled at the utter shock on her face as the pieces fell into
place before resuming.
	"Your sister fell neatly into our trap with the assistance of friendly
businessman and a missing cheque.  And it didn't take her long to get on the
wrong side of our friendly local policeman over here. She is so beautiful and
proud that I decided to have her for myself - even though that is against
Lavery's rules."
	As he spoke he stroked Penny's still-shocked face, weighing her ripe
young breasts.  Rosemary was amazed at how the youngster, who would normally
have punched anyone who tried that, now meekly endured, even proffered her
breast fruit for his attention.  Only the twitching of her face displayed her
true feelings and the control she had to exercise.
	"When I saw the routine surveillance photos of her family," Miles
continued to boast, "I knew that I wanted you as a matching set with her. 
However, I guessed I could only do so by encouraging you to rescue your sister. 
No-one in Lavery knew I had secretly bought Penny but I convinced them to
ensnare you too; thus you were targeted.  My people in England followed you and
I thereby ensured that I met you at the Lavery office.  Again, when I received
word from your tail that you were nearly at the Foreign Office the following day
I just walked in one door, apologised to the doorman, and walked out again -
bumping into you on the step!  Then we went to the hotel room I'd booked
earlier.  The only genuine thing was my mobile phone number, but I have
naturally cancelled that now!  I hadn't initially counted on your husband flying
out with you - I naturally know what he looks like and spotted him at the
airport.  I told Lavery that you were a special case, a security risk but
worthwhile, and we used the quick change routine in an empty villa used to cover
such eventualities." 
	Miles snapped his fingers at Penny, ignoring the crestfallen Rosemary.
	"You may untie her and then I'll have you both standing facing each
other please in the correct slave position which applies here.  One of my rules,
as you already know Pixy, is absolute silence.  So although you two probably
have a lot of catching up to do with gossip you will both be severely thrashed
if you exchange so much as a single word. Understand?" he snapped giving both
sets of buttocks a slap which cracked like a pistol shot in the hollow confines
of the house in which they stood.
	"Yes master," came the low-voiced response from the two nude sisters
together at last.
	Following her sister's lead Rosemary copied her until they stood facing
each other a metre apart, hands on head, legs and mouths wide open, tongues
protruding.  Her emotions were in utter turmoil.  She felt crushed, defeated,
her hopes and plans for rescuing Penny and herself utterly dashed.  Large tears
rolled down both girls' beautiful faces as they silently contemplated their
predicament. 	Rosemary knew they were so similar, their bodies, faces,
beautiful blonde hair, just with Penny's longer - midway down her back.  Even
their looks of anguish were nearly identical.
	"That's good you're just as good as I imagined, Trixie," Miles regarded
his latest acquisition.  "Mouth open wider, legs further apart," he instructed
until she was positioned to his satisfaction as blatantly exposed as Penny. "I
require you to assume that position as a reminder that you are mine and have no
secrets from me, nothing concealed, even in your mouth." 
	He lifted her full sensuous lips to peer at her teeth as if inspecting
an animal, painfully pulling her tongue, weighing her breasts, smiling as she
squirmed under his touch.  Then he casually removed his clothes, laughing,
slapping his thigh.
	"Come here girlie, on all fours like a little doggie," he ordered.
	Hate and fury initially boiled through Rosemary's trembling body as she
regarded his leering figure.  She felt ashamed at her previous lustful thoughts
about him, about how she had wished that he would seduce her, thinking about his
body thrusting on hers!
	"I understand your shock at seeing me my pretty and knowing that all of
your sacrifice and scheming has been for nothing.  However, if you do not do
exactly as you are told, right now, both you and your sister will be flogged.  I
have plenty of servants here with strong right hands to deal with you both.  
Now come here to be f___ed please and you will use all of the new found skills
you will have acquired as an Angel at the camp.  I want it all from you, your
body and spirit - just as I have already taken from your sister.  Is that not so
girl?"
	"Yes master," Penny's response was low, ashamed.
	"And what is the most treasured gift you could have Pixy"?
	"You m-my Master, and obeying you," she repeated the words which had
obviously been instilled in her.
	"Now you may have been replaced though Dixie, at the very least you'll
have to share me with your sister.  What do you think of that?"
	"Wh-whatever is you will is my command master," Penny's even, modulated
voice concealed her true feelings before she again obediently stuck her tongue
out.
	Rosemary guessed, from his gloating look, that it must be something else
again to have her crawl to him, her lovely boobs swaying softly.  She had to
control the look of hatred in her eyes, which gradually replaced the confusion
and numbness as her hopes crashed around her.  And, in addition, was the rigid
and equally beautiful figure of her young sister, whose tight bottom he casually
patted before lying down, awaiting his newest conquest.
	She couldn't deny that the body before her was as lean and hard as in
her dreams.  He was her master she realised  - knowing she must accept that
bitter reality.  It made her task somewhat easier. Physically he was a dream but
she had to deliberately shut down that part of her brain screaming rebellion and
hatred.  She must concentrate only on the physical aspects as her soft lips
brushed and kissed his ears, and lips, delving into his mouth before working
their way down his neck to the nipples and flat hard belly. Her fingers sought
out the hot pulsing bud between the cheeks of his buttocks as her mouth worked
simultaneously on the throbbing root jutting towards her. 
	"On your back, hold your ankles behind your ears, I'll look at you
first" his orders were quite and utterly explicit - why need they be otherwise?
	He feasted his eyes on the splendour of the dark pink oval moistly
pouting at him.  Several times, kneeling between the satin softness of her
splayed thighs, he dipped his rigid manhood into the honey silkiness of her
exquisite womanhood.  Then, whilst a finger explored her puckered entrance the
heel of his hand rubbed and pressed down onto her bud, the epicentre of her
pleasure making her writhe and gasp, toes curling.
	He looked up at the figure of Penny standing to one side.
	"Come around here and have a look Pixy; your sister's hot and ready for
it.  Come, look at her."
	Obediently, Penny regarded the spread intimacy of her older sister.
	"Shall I beat her or f__k her?  Tell me, which one."
	" Oh, don't ? please don't beat her again, master," Penny whispered.
	"What shall I do with her then, you know the alternative? Tell me loud
and clear," he insisted.
	"F__k her master."
	"You want me to f__k your sister?"
	"Y-yes p-please master," Penny whispered.
	"Louder girl, shout it out and keep repeating it until I finish."
	"F--k her master.  F__k her master," Penny shouted continuously as Miles
positioned Rosemary with impatient slaps to her thighs and breasts until she was
to his satisfaction - kneeling again on all fours on the floor.  Still moist, he
slid his shaft deep between her cheeks and into the moist, gripping, fur-fringed
pouting cavity of her sex.




		----------------------------------------------------------
	


	"I'm glad you liked your f--k but I must give you some bad news I'm
afraid," Miles continued after he had taken Rosemary. 
	She tensed and unconsciously gripped his penis still embedded deep
within her warm moist sex from behind as she knelt nose to the floor, buttocks
up-thrust.  It made his flaccid member stir within her velvet glove as he
reached to retrieve a newspaper cutting from his discarded jacket pocket and
thrust it under her nose.
	 "Don't move from your position, I may want to take you again in moment,
I can feel the old stiffness coming on again," he joked slapping a smooth thigh
as he heard her gasp whilst she read.
	The cutting related news of a fire killing a tourist in his hotel room
with the body being burnt to a crisp.  Damien's name and photograph hit Rosemary
between the eyes.
	"I'm afraid it was a terrible accident," Miles explained trying to keep
a straight face.  "Something must have caught fire in his room and your poor
husband's body was barely recognisable but luckily his papers were not too badly
scorched.  At least he will not have to worry about you any more my dear, or you
about him - you belong totally to me now," he spat venomously.
	As the kneeling blonde began crying her bottom jiggled delightfully,
unintentionally rubbing and squeezing his manhood, making him grow ever harder
within her.  He obviously savoured the moment,  f---king the wife of the man he
had arranged to be killed.
	At that moment Rosemary knew that Miles had killed Damien and that she
was thus truly alone, she and Penny belonged solely to him.   He was swelling
again within her.  Her thoughts were in utter turmoil.  Gritting her teeth with
shame and rage she knew however that she could do absolutely nothing except
allow herself to be taken again by Damien's murderer, like this - and in front
of the sister she had endured so much to rescue.  She heard him laugh as he
clasped her breasts, which bounced with his thrusting movements just above the
floor. 
	Then, a sound made her look up, red eyes peering through a blonde,
matted curtain of hair.  Simultaneously Miles too must have seen the figure step
from behind the curtains by the patio doors.  The copulating couple both gasped
incredulously.  She felt the penis shrink within her and, without thinking,
wanting to distance herself from her tormentor, she moved forward and stood up.  	
"Darling!" she exclaimed incredulously, one hand flying to her mouth and the
other to cover her bare breasts as, impossibly, she saw her husband Damien push
aside the curtain, a gun in his hand.
	"I-I th-thought, the bastard said ... . He said you were... ."
	"It's OK sweetheart the reports of my death were a little exaggerated,"
Damien said with a grim smile.
	

Damien's eyes briefly flicked over the beautiful figure of Penny who stood
similarly transfixed and amazed, still poking her tongue out.  It was like
looking at a slightly different version of his wife; she was so beautiful.  He
had often wondered over the years what she looked like without clothes and now
he knew.  The younger girl's reactions, with her brother-in-law's unexpected
appearance, automatically and unconsciously reverted back to near normality. She
broke from the rigid hands on head posture she had been forced to adopt for the
last 30 minutes whilst having to watch Miles perform with her older sister.  Her
hands now flew to modestly cover her bare breasts and pubic thatch.
	"Get something on girls, those sheets there," he pointed to a bed,
"don't let this f---ing creep see any more.  I'm getting you both out of here,
things are back to normal now."
	Both men stood grim faced for different reasons as the two women were at
last able to cover their nudity by wrapping large white sheets around
themselves, a welcome return to normality.  The elixir of joy and freedom
coursed through Rosemary's veins.   Meanwhile, Miles unconsciously lowered a
hand to cover his shrinking manhood, still glinting with the juices of the wife
of the man who now held a gun on him.	
	"When I made some enquiries at the British Embassy," Damien continued,
"and they had never heard of you, Miles, I began to smell a rat,"  his gun never
wavered from it's level gaze at the sweating face of the other man. "They had
heard of the disappearances of various British and European women and were
investigating but Whitehall had never heard of you being part of the team.  The
local police were hopeless, just as you no doubt knew they would, they just
didn't want to know; they had probably been paid well not to know.  All I
succeeded in doing I guess is to stir things up enough for you to eventually pay
someone to finish me off and make it look like an accident.  Before that, as I
was almost thinking of giving up a hopeless situation, I had a break.  A package
was left at the hotel from someone at the camp where Rosemary was being held. 
It showed.... disgusting, horrible photos of her doing ...  things but it came
with a note saying how I should be on my guard against your paid assassin and
that, today,  I would find Rosemary here at this time. After two sleepless
nights your man finally crept into my hotel room.  He thoughtlessly cut up some
pillows I had rolled under the sheets, then I managed to dent his head with my
torch and borrow his gun.   I could then concentrate on finding my wife." 
	Damien paused for a moment recollecting again the squalid colour photos
in the package.  They had made him cry.  In one his lovely Rosemary was touching
her toes naked before a grim-looking young Chinese girl wielding a cane.  The
agonised look on his wife's tear-stained face and the vivid red stripes across
her tautly curved buttocks told their own story.  They also showed her kneeling
between the spread things of another naked girl her tongue extended into the
girl's pink orifice as she looked up with wide anguished eyes at a Negress who
was obviously giving her direction.  In another she lay on her back legs spread
to show all of her delicate secrets previously known only to him but there
spread before a leering Arab hulk who was descending on her with his huge brown
manhood standing out rigidly ahead of him.  Further photos depicted her astride
a large Negro, seemingly riding him with abandon and also several showing her
seducing a grossly fat Arab in a prison cell.  He saw her pulling wagons and
laying rails, toiling alongside other sweating naked bodies like a labourer
under a burning sun.  The only one in which she wasn't naked showed her in a
ridiculous schoolgirl costume being caned humiliatingly by the harsh young
Chinese girl.
 	Damien started; the face of the Chinese girl was suddenly there in the
room with them, having silently entered from the far door.  Dressed in a black
leather cat-suit, she looked just as harsh as in the photos.  Now she also
carried a small gun - and it was pointed at him!  The eyes of Rosemary and Penny
widened in horror as they too saw their tiny Chinese tormentor.
	"So pleasant to meet Rosemary's husband at last," the young girl smiled
at her wide-eyed audience, "I am Miss Wang.  Now, unless you drop gun
immediately I show just how accurate I am with mine - before we even have chance
to talk!  I do think though you get my girls into bad habits." she said with a
cruel smile, " you must remember they mine not yours.  Now drop gun, Mr Pearson,
no need for false name now, or I shoot Rosemary, or as we call her, Trixie. 
	With a clatter, Damien's gun fell to the floor - to be retrieved by
Miles.
	"Western sluts," Miss Wang turned to the sisters, "how dare you cover
yourselves; strip naked this instant. I have to punish you both I see that. 
Both will assume normal display position."   	From her gamut of expressions,
Rosemary's emotions were obviously on a roller coaster from hope to oblivion.
However, such was their obvious fear of the sadistic Chinese girl and their
training that wordlessly the two women, their new-found freedom so cruelly
snatched away again, complied with the order without hesitation.  Penny
unwrapped the long sheet, losing probably the first covering she had worn in
this hateful place, and stood as she knew she must; naked, hands on her head,
legs astride and her mouth wide open with her tongue protruding to it's fullest
extent.  Again she was a slave on display.     
	Damien's anger frustration was a knife in his belly as his wife followed
suit so that the two figures again, stood naked in identical poses staring
intently at only their young Chinese tormentor - thoughts of him now suppressed. 
He suddenly and simply no longer existed for them.  Their eyes widened as the
tiny girl stood between them, her hands curling around each slim waist, patting
each pair of magnificent buttocks with complete possession.
	"We enjoy ourselves plenty.  I bi-sexual," her cruel mouth suddenly
closed over Rosemary's, cupping her jutting breasts.  She winked at Damien as
she deeply kissed his wife.  
    	"Poor Damien so near yet so far," drawled Miles in mock pity. "You, or
your spy in the camp, didn't take account of my little friend here, Miss Wang,"
who again stood with her arms casually around each girl.  "She lives with me, my
secret lover, and she will be your wife's new Mistress - as she is already for
her sister.  We've been creaming off money from the Lavery people for ages now,
that's how I can afford this lifestyle and the slaves, but maybe now is the time
to quit while I'm ahead.   Before we perform our vanishing act, however, we must
consider you Damien.  I'm afraid there is no room for you in the equation and so
it's curtains for you my old son," Miles cocked the gun, making Rosemary gulp,
tears wetting her wide eyes.
	"I think Mr Pearson a bit over-dressed first," Miss Wang smiled
sadistically, "and if we to dump him we no want any tell-tale identification do
we?  Pixy you will remove his clothes.  If you resist, Mr Pearson, I afraid your
wife be first to suffer."
	Fear and frustration, mixed with an element of ashamed desire rose in
Damien as, with mute apology in her wide eyes, the nude young girl padded over
to her brother-in-law.  With tiny deft fluttering movements she began
unbuttoning his clothing.  He stood impotently rigid, scarlet-faced, as her cool
trembling hands stripped him before the amused eyes of Miles and the Chinese
bitch and also the red-rimmed eyes of his wife.  Then those soft cool hands were
on his loins gently lifting his rigid manhood and tugging down his last covering
to leave him as naked as the others, and proudly erect.
	"You show off before wife, not as big as she used to now though," teased
Miss Wang. 
	"You... ," began Damien fists clenched until Miles pointed the gun at
Rosemary.
	"Better shut up Mr Pearson," suggested the Chinese girl.  "Why you no
give him nice F-k, Pixy, while Master does same for Trixie" she continued, "give
him something to think about before he go on way."
	"Oh what a splendid idea," exclaimed Miles, "I'll just watch Pixy
getting started with him and then I'll give Trixie another seeing to I think."
	Damien groaned as the soft lithe body of Penny undulated against him. 
Her body language was in contrast to the look of apology and shame and fear in
her eyes.  He gasped as she straddled the root of his erection under her curly
thatch and began to rub his head against the soft lips of her sex, her face
buried against his heaving chest as she kissed his sharp nipples with a darting
tongue.
	"Hold that arse my son, get stuck in there," urged Miles, "she's a real
hot number, likes a good screw, just like her sister," he chuckled cruelly.
	Automatically, without really thinking, Damien reached out to hold the
smooth, flexing globes contracting under his touch as she thrust against him. 
Then, standing on tiptoe, Penny eased his pulsing length into her, and her hands
grasped his shoulders as he slid fully into her tight velvet sheath.  He looked
abstractly to see the hateful young Chinese girl stroking his wife's bare bottom
with the side of the gun whilst she still stood obediently rigid, hands on head.  
	"I First warm her up before you f__k her," Miss Wang declared putting
her own gun away and beginning to slap Rosemary's firm buttocks.
	However, several things then happened at once which were just a blur to
Damien.  The Chinese girl had moved away from her slightly to pick up a wicked
looking whip.  Rosemary, seizing the moment had found it within her to break her
pose and grasp the handle of a cane lying at her feet, viciously swinging
against Miles' wrist knocking aside the gun.  Then she flung herself at Miss
Wang as the Chinese girl scrabbled to retrieve her own gun again from her bag,
her pink limbs contrasting with the youngster's black cat-suit.  	
	Before either Damien or Miles could claim the other weapon a huge Negro
with a touch of the oriental in his looks silently appeared in the room.  He
stamped one foot on the gun and kicked Miles in the belly with the other. 
Everyone froze as he picked up the gun and addressed his stunned audience.
	"So, I've flushed you out at last, Miles.  We knew someone was taking
our money but not who.  We had our suspicions about your luxury lifestyle and it
wasn't too hard to suspect that you were the mystery slave buyer.  First one
girl and then the other.  I had to use you as bait I'm afraid my dear Mrs
Pearson," he shrugged at Rosemary. " You," he looked at Damien," I used as the
catalyst to flush him, and whoever was helping him, out of the woodwork.  We
knew that someone must be helping him but not who.  I had no idea it was Miss
Wang.   My name is Mr Sampson by the way, I run the Lavery Road operation.  I
learnt of your intended killing, arranged by Miles, I have spies too, and sent
the package to warn, motivate and point you in the right direction.  Then I
simply had to follow behind Rosemary's 'delivery' and hope he freely disclosed
to you that he was the villain of the piece.  I needed evidence in order to, er,
retire him.   Normally you two would simply disappear off the face of the
earth," he addressed both shocked girls. "However, you have been instrumental in
clearing out this vermin and so I am prepared to let you both, and Mr Pearson,
go so long as this all remains our little secret.  Meantime, I am afraid that
Miles and his little friend, Miss Wang, will not be so lucky. "
	The rest was as if a dream.  Damien watched as the tough- looking
Negress from the photos arrived.  She held a gun, before which some Arabs, who
he presumed were the house servants, scuttled with their hands held high in the
air. 
	Miss Mitzie smiled coldly at the two slaves and Damien before, without a
word, helping Mr Sampson take away Miles and his Chinese mistress to an unknown
fate. 
	Perhaps later Damien would regret making no protest about the shameful
treatment that Rosemary and Penny had received at the hands of Sampson and his
cronies but for the moment he was just so grateful that they were both safe. 
Also he was keen to get back to the British Embassy where replacement travel
documents to get them out of the country awaited the three of them.
	The black core of hate in Rosemary's heart, which had slowly grown over
these last weeks, was only now slowly melting.  It had surged uncontrollably
when the evil Chinese cow was about to take away from her everything she had
ever loved.  She would forever cherish the look of terror and surprise replacing
the girl's normal self-confident smirk when she had leapt at her.  Squeezing her
scrawny throat, she knew was fulfilling the ambition of so many Angles.  She
would also treasure the look of fear and rage in the eyes of both Wang and Miles
as they were tightly bound and placed in sacks - just like their victims. 
	She was simply too stunned from her so recent emotional switchback ride
into and out of hell and back again and the achievement of her aim of finding
Penny to worry much further for the moment.  Joy filled her heart.  At last
carefree, she and Penny found some clothing in Miles' house and dressed.  Her
feelings of guilt about her fellow Angels were eased when Damien assured her
that, although the whereabouts of the camp wasn't known, the British Embassy
would act to negotiate the release of her colleagues.  Maybe they would turn a
blind eye to Lavery's continuing activities - but at least she had made a
difference, and could hopefully save her friends.
	A part of her realised though that things could, never be quite the same
again.  She was a new or at least a different woman, having discovered elements
of a exciting sensuality and freedom within slavery.  She had risked everything
to find Penny and Damien likewise had found them both.  Both sisters owed so
much to him, and indeed to Mr Sampson.  Indeed she had to resist the urge to
prostrate herself at the feet of both men.  She couldn't wait to get Damien
alone and await his instructions.   
	No, things would not be the same again.            
     
      				
					THE END


     				 MARTIN HUGHES

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