This story carries on from

The Harvester - The Women's Slave Training Academy Book 2

 

Chapter 1

 

The stifling July heat mixed with the oppressive evening humidity to render the ancient, winding streets and avenues of Kyoto all but deserted.

It was just after nine o'clock and the last of the office workforce were making their way to the various public transport arteries leading out of the city; however, it was well after dark by the time Nanami Yamagata left the office to take her place amongst the transitioning throng. The beautiful young girl couldn't help but smile at the hundreds of decorative black & white lanterns strewn from lamp posts, telephone poles and doorways as she made her way to the train station, but unlike thousands of her colleagues Nanami would not be heading home to the country for the long weekend in celebration of the Tanabata.

The Star Festival was a modern holiday designed to afford family and friends time together to reinforce their bonds and take a breather from the long days the strong Japanese work ethic had spawned.

But Nanami couldn't go home. Her parents wouldn't have her.

Two years ago the twenty year old fashion design assistant had defied her parents' conservative plans for her life and moved away to Kyoto to find a job and share an apartment with her artist boyfriend from Tokyo. Six months later he took off for parts unknown and left her with all the bills. At five foot seven and with beautiful hazel eyes, Nanami's dreams of a modeling career still lingered.

Once on the train back to the suburbs Nanami removed her navy blue sweat-stained suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her white cotton blouse. As she reached behind her head to gather up her silky, waist-length ebony hair she realized the two men across the aisle were enjoying the view. Her wet blouse had become transparent; though her breasts were only 33Bs, they were firm and well-shaped and partially visible through the damp white bra. The men gleamed with satisfaction as her beautiful oval face turned deep crimson, and she was forced to turn her body towards the window to finish her hair. In the Japanese language 'mi' roughly translates as beautiful, and in the case of Nanami, never was the suffix more applicable.

Even as a schoolgirl her doe eyes, which still seemed almost too large for her face, riveted people's attention. Her deep pink rose petal lips floated gently between high, sharp cheek bones and her long neck introduced a slender but curvy torso and a pair of long shapely legs which received so much attention the perpetually embarrassed female felt compelled to wear out of date, below-the-knee skirts.

A half hour later the train pulled into the less exclusive Nagagyo Ward to the south of the city and Nanami got off.

It was a twenty minute walk over hilly terrain and streets to where she lived. All the exhausted girl could think about was how hot and sweaty she was, how sore her feet were and how tired and hungry she was. Finally she reached her building, number 9 in the complex of 15. Anti-earthquake measures dictated that the plain apartment blocks were only 12 stories high, and Nanami had one of the cheapest one room apartments on the top floor of the concrete building. They were built as large, square tubes; and to allow each flat to have a balcony, the centers of the square buildings had an open area running through their centers with a small courtyard at the bottom.

Her place was last on the right in an alcove and by the time she made it to the front door she'd let the beautiful black blanket of her long hair back down and removed her shoes. She was disappointed to see that the small battery powered lantern she'd hung above her door for luck was out and made a mental note to change the batteries.

Unlocking the door, she didn't see the corner shadow move, and the unsuspecting young girl had no way to detect the small silk swatch which quickly and silently slid between the closing door and the strike plate of the lock.

Her apartment was sparsely decorated but clean and stylish with a Post Modern meets medieval flavor. Straight ahead through the small main space was the bath, but she turned right into the bedroom to strip for her much anticipated shower. A few minutes later she reappeared wrapped in a towel and ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The dark, hooded figure stood stock still in the corner of the main room, blending almost perfectly in the umbra of the evening shadows.

He waited until he heard the shower head come on and then went to work. From his black hard-shelled roller case he removed a black silk blanket, two thick coils of slender hemp rope, a leather muzzle/penis gag, a double eye patch blindfold, and a thin rubber hood. He set the gear in a rough arch in the middle of the room. The last item he removed from the suitcase was a two foot long bamboo blow gun. He set that aside, then opened the rope coils and quickly tied several complicated knots at various points on the ropes, forming a rudimentary harness.

The shower went off and he receded into the partial shadow of the corner opposite the bathroom door.

It was a few minutes before the door opened, and when it did the accumulated steam evaporated into the room revealing the nude form of Nanami drying herself in front of the mirror.

The needle was so delicate that Nanami only discovered she had been darted when she lowered her hands to dry her breast and knocked it away; too late to stop the powerful chemical agent from flowing through her bloodstream. The young girl bent to retrieve the dart with the pretty red and blue feathered tail and it was when she stood erect again that the effect hit her.

Panic flooded from her breasts to her brain as she felt her feet, legs, thighs and now her chest and arms begin to go numb. She dropped the towel and started for the main room but only managed two steps through the bathroom door before crumpling in a heap to the carpet. Her stalker anticipated she would be too scared to scream and she didn't disappoint. High pitched squeals in time with her frantic, shallow breaths gradually died to the syncopation of air rushing in and out of her lungs as she lay motionless on the floor. The diluted curare derivative paralysed the neuro-muscular systems but didn't induce unconsciousness.

Emerging from the shadows he stepped forward and looked down at the helpless female propped on her side, panting with her mouth open, eyes darting wildly about in an effort to comprehend what was happening to her. All she could do was stare at the dark pair of legs standing inches from her pale face.

He dragged her by the wrists to his improvised work station, rolled her onto her back, and set to it.

"Karada." He mumbled to himself as he seemed to make up his mind how to bind the girl for transport. Amongst all the other necessary arts of capturing women, he was also well trained in the art of nawa-do, the way of the rope.

He went to work and ten minutes later Nanami's young body was adorned in a traditional Japanese 'rope dress'. With the arms already bound tightly behind her the next step was to bend the legs back and up over the chest, loop a length of rope across the hollows of the knees, fold the legs in half and, with a shorter length of hemp, tether the slender ankles to the upper thighs. Using the line he'd looped across the knee hollows he ran the free ends under the back across the bound arms and back up to the knees, tying several square knots and a hand sized loop to hold the girl in a human ball and to provide a convenient carrying handle.

The muzzle gag was next, and the built in thick penis insert caused some gagging which quickly died down as the girl's virgin throat adapted to the intruder. Only after tightly strapping the blindfold around her delicate face did he remove his hood and stuff it into a small black bag. He then gathered up her long mane and tied it with several thick elastic bands along its length before he rolled the girl's thin rubber hood up at the edges, stuffed the three foot pony tail through the small elastic opening in the top and forced the black latex garment snugly down over her head. After putting his ear to her nose hole to check breathing, he then stuffed the thick rope of hair between the bent knees and flattened breasts.

His last task was to wrap Nanami in the black silk sheet and this he did by lifting her rigid form by the rope handle onto a corner of the silk and rolling her in it like a ball of fresh sushi, folding and wrapping the side corners under her.

Stripping off his dark jump suit, he turned it inside out and put it back on. He now wore a dark blue uniform with gold piping on the epaulettes. He then reached into the roller case for a cap and put it on, slid the blow gun into a hidden slot on the bag, and retrieved the dart. Next he lifted the girl's heavily bound form into the bag, placing her ass down towards the small wheels at the bottom. He flipped the six chrome latches around the three sides, securing each with a small titanium lock through the eye holes, and extended the collapsible pull handle on the case. His prey now secure, he fished around in his side jacket pocket and produced a pair of a senior airline pilot's gold wings which he pinned on over his left breast pocket.

Out in the hall he re-inserted the small batteries back into the lantern, pulled the door closed and, dragging his roller bag behind him, headed for the lifts.

 

***

 

The Director shook his head as he passed the unoccupied Monitor Station which, until a month ago, would have had a beautiful slave trainee bound to the heavy timber post like a work of art with a directional sign prominently displayed somewhere on her nude body. His mind was well occupied as he made his way through the narrow corridor and out onto the concrete loading dock of the Shipping & Receiving area. The diminishing inventory of livestock at the WSTA was bad enough following the June auction six weeks ago. But it was aggravated by two unexpected sales of a half dozen partially-trained slaves which, even at their inflated prices, put the Director well below the acceptable inventory level he would need for the December auction. And that was taking into account the present scheduled harvests, less than a dozen in the next two months, and working at full capacity for the next four months.

In the second of the three loading bays several Attendants were at work unloading the back of a small van. Off to the side the Senior Attendant stood talking to a man in a janitor's uniform. The two noticed the Director and met him in the middle of the dock.

"These the three from the home?"

"Yes Sir."

"Records and documents situation still the same?"

"Yeah, convicted juveniles. Orphanage has them listed as being adopted; the courts have them down as being at the orphanage. This is our contact." He gestured to the janitor and they exchanged nods. Two Attendants were inside the vehicle with screw guns disassembling the built up rear wheel wells, while two more stood by on the edge of the dock with a chrome surgical dolly.

"How many we got?"

"Three this trip."

"It's all I could get out. You know, without makin' anybody suspicious." The janitor volunteered. The Director briefly glanced over at the Attendant.

Inside the van the first cover was pulled away from the wheel well to reveal a tightly bound, blindfolded, and ball gagged semi-nude girl. The second box followed to uncover another, fully clothed, also with wrists and elbows roped behind her back. Her thighs and legs had been tied off to her neck and torso, holding her in a jack-knife position.

"Where's number three?" One of the workers inside the vehicle asked. The janitor smiled and pointed to the floor of the vehicle. The Attendants stepped aside and kicked away the thin, ragged blanket to uncover a small pull handle. Under the trap door was a shallow compartment about a foot deep running a third the length and a quarter of the width of the van's floor. Stuffed inside the long narrow compartment, lying face down, was a completely nude number three.

"Where's the clothes?" The Director asked of no one in particular.

"Uh . . . in the front seat." The janitor mumbled. The Director nodded to the Attendant, who hopped down off the dock and went to the front seat and retrieved the bag.

The first two girls were handed up to the workers on the dock who set their writhing forms on their sides atop the gurney. Number three was unconscious and so was a little easier to handle; however, there was no room on the cart so she was laid out on the floor. The Director rummaged through the crumpled brown shopping bag then nodded at the Senior Attendant, handing him the bag before he walked over to the gurney to examine his new stock.

"Pay the man."

The two Attendants, each working on a girl, injected them with a mild sedative. The reactions were almost immediate and as soon as both new slave trainees calmed down the men produced box cutters and began to cut away the ropes and clothes, filling two burn bags with the rags and shredded lengths of clothes line. The Senior Attendant then appeared at their side with a roller cart which resembled a tool tray. They continued to work on the nudes; first removing what little jewellery they wore, then rolling them onto their bellies and turning their limp bodies perpendicular to the gurney so that their arms and legs hung draped over the edges. Both men nodded at the well-shaped, firm and curvaceous asses displayed at just the right height. The Senior Attendant caught their gestures.

"Hey! Hygiene Prep! No detours!" They both put their hands up to signal compliance.

The Director motioned for the Senior to come over to him.

"Wait a month to six weeks then we'll take another three or four; then no more till I say. No contact either."

"Sounds good."

"I want somebody on this guy all the time. He's too greedy and worse yet, sloppy." He pulled the captured girl's clothes out of the bag for the Attendant to see. The senior worker looked then nodded. The only garments in the bag were a rolled up pair of jeans, a white blouse and a tattered pair of pantyhose.

The Director looked across the open bay to see the Kid approaching.

"And make absolutely sure their cover stories are airtight! Do it yourself, don't delegate! You understand?"

"I understand. If there's any doubt I'll cancel the harvest." The Attendant added.

"Good." The other two men were applying restraint straps to the two females' ankles and the Director went over to them.

"Hold up," the Director instructed as the Kid came up alongside the scene. The cunt meat shortage problem wasn't getting any better and so it was decided to let the Kid go at it for a while to see what he could come up with; he had been working away on some techniques to impress his boss.

The Director stepped to the cart, put on a pair of rubber exam gloves, and parted the first girl's ass cheeks. Both the anus and the vagina were dry. As they untied number three he did likewise with the other one draped over the stainless steel cart. Her holes showed no sign of recent use either.

"How's that one look?" Each Attendant grabbed one of the slender ankles and spread the shapely legs wide apart and back towards her head. Semen oozed from her stretched anus and from between her swollen vaginal lips. The whole crew could see why the janitor had picked her. She was a brunette like the other two but with black eyes which dominated her well chiseled face and pale, flawlessly even skin, topped off with an Angelina Jolie mouth.

Her body was just as arousing. Stretched out on the floor she looked to be 5'9", maybe a little over, and carried an hourglass shape with meaty breasts that were so firm they hardly wilted to the sides as she lay on her back.

"Be ready if you find something on this janitor guy. Don't wait for me. Just assume you've got the okay."

"Any souvenirs or trophies?"

"No, he just disappears. I'm told he gambles. Make it look like loan sharks." A blanket of silence descended as the gravity of the mood sank in. The Director rarely gave such orders but when he did there was no going back. "Mark all three nipple tags CA04's then get them hog-tied and down to Hygiene Prep. Let me know when they're cleaned, emptied and settled in."

He turned to the Kid, who all of a sudden was just a little less anxious to pitch his latest brainstorm.

"Now, what grief have you come to give me?" He started to walk back towards the elevators and indicated for the Kid to follow. The Kid handed him a folder.

"What, the news is so bad you can't even tell me? I gotta read it for myself?" The Kid didn't answer. After a few minutes of perusing the plan outline, The Director sighed, closed the folder and gave his verdict. The Attendants guided the three hog-tied nudes on the gurney past them and over to the cargo elevator.

"I'll be honest, Kid; this idea sounds a bit half baked." With reluctance the Director looked down at his newest Harvester. Reluctantly, the Kid looked down at the floor.

"You said we had to start thinking about new approaches to the problem."

"I know I did. And I know disguise is half our battle with harvesting fresh meat, but this is risky. It's an extra ten years right off the bat if you're caught."

"I thought about that. If we're really in that much trouble, I'll chance it." The Director appreciated the Kid's dedication.

"If I green light this, how much is it gonna cost me?"

"Full budget's on the last page." The Director flipped through the folder. "Two removable restraint panels for the rental van and two uniforms. Plus gas money. Less than a grand!" the Kid proudly announced. They reached their floor and got off.

"Smells fishy. What's the catch?" The Director took off back towards his office with the Kid trailing after him.

"No catch!"

"What else then?"

"I got a friend down in Training Equipment. It's gonna take two people to pull this off and we're just as short of Harvesters as we are livestock . . ."

"Thanks to you!" The Kid stopped where he was.

"It had to be done!" The Director thought his indignation cute and stopped a few paces ahead of his hurt employee.

"I know. I ain't blamin' you, Kid. If you hadn't take matters into your own hands I would'a had somebody do it anyway. You just saved me the paperwork."

"You're welcome, I guess," added the Kid and they continued on.

"Just one thing. Why'd ya snatch the wife and girl?"

"Why? You want me to take them back?"

"Don't get flip! I'm not in the mood."

"Sorry. I did it for a coupl'a of reasons. First, he had to be taken out as soon as possible and home was the only place we knew he was going to be for sure. Second, they'd have reported him missing sooner or later; the wife knew what he did but his girl didn't. She would'a started asking questions sooner or later and I couldn't take her and not take the MILF."

"MILF?! Whatta you, Jason Biggs?"

"Third . . . cause I wanted to. He pissed me off! I liked 02. He was a good guy and treated me decent." The Director handed the folder back to the Kid and rang for the elevator.

"Those are good reasons, Kid." The doors opened and the Director got on. "Well, ya can't go at this hair-brained scheme alone, and I guess I got no problem with Mancuso tagging along if he wants to. Just watch his ass. He's not a field man!"

"You have my word Director! Thank you Sir! You won't regret this!"

"Kid, I already do!" The elevator doors slid closed.

The day he was assigned the Nina, CA21 harvest, the Kid had a meet with his old friend Tommy, Head of Training Equipment, to get some help in planning the all-important harvest. Tommy was too thrilled to get involved.

This time would be different.