CHAPTER 1

 

Louise felt on top of the world, and looked it. She wore a tight low cut, little black dress, to emphasise and show off her gorgeous 36-24-36 figure. Ash blonde hair framed her doll-like face and fell to caress her smooth bare shoulders. She and the other actresses starring in the forthcoming film had all been asked to dress in tune with the 1940s so that any publicity shots taken during the pre-filming meal would reflect the period. OK, so her dress might have been a little short for that era but still passable - and it did show off her endless toned thighs to best advantage. Her underwear, a tiny red bra and pants set, was also definitely not quite from the 1940s - a girl must have her home comforts - and who tonight would ever know or see, she decided. As a concession, however, she was unusually wearing seamed dark silk stockings and suspender belt.

Now, though, she was enjoying cuddling up to her handsome husband, Henry, on the hotel dancefloor. They were enjoying their last night of luxury before he flew home and the filming and necessary privations began on this Pacific Island. It made her flush a bit as they danced to feel his strong hands holding the flexing cheeks of her bottom over the sleek dress, his favourite grope, but many in the room were just stage technicians and extras. Why not let them drool a bit over their star, she thought.

Dreamily she lifted her lips to receive his kiss, pressing herself a bit tighter against him, grinding her hips slightly and pushing her boobs against him a little. She shivered as she felt his desire pressing against her belly, teasingly easing herself just a little bit tighter against him as she opened her mouth over his. It would give those in the room a bit of a thrill as they watched her, a famous personality and soon to be famous star, getting loved and touched up. Maybe pictures would find their way into magazines - that could only help the film and her career. And that would be good, especially as she had previously been a bit haughty and 'leading-lady-ish' she accepted, with some of the extras and staff. And as gossip travelled, that wasn't good. She was determined not to let her nerves get to her as they settled into the hotel to get used to the hot sun on this island. It was the pressure of the forthcoming film to be shot here on the island, with so much at stake for her career. Normally she was by nature rather sweet and demure.

Mind you, she thought with an inner grin, she hadn't been so sweet and demure an hour or so previously in her hotel room with Henry - thank goodness her fans hadn't seen her then. On leaving the bath she had returned to the bedroom to find Henry dozing on the bed. It may have been the cocktail she had sipped in the bath but crazy thoughts had darted through her. Loosening her robe, she padded over to her husband and gently eased her soft pink body full length onto him, kissing the slight stubble on his cheek, her robe hanging down like a flap over them both.

He had stirred, a smile creasing his handsome face and his erection rising to meet her as she ground the warmth of her loins against him. She loved it when he kissed and sucked her nipples, making them tingle deliciously and she pressed them harder against his lips as his hands squeezed her bottom. Her lips and fingers had been busy on his broad chest. He had suddenly grown so hard. His hand impatiently flicked back her robe and with a sly feminine wiggle and lift she had allowed him to brush it from their hot and eager bodies. With another feminine wiggle she had arched and lifted her hips to impale him deep within her waiting warmth, filling her so wonderfully.

Her sensuous lips had closed over his mouth, her tongue darting with his; oh it had been so good; she wanted to savour his masculine essence. But she felt him quicken and throb inside her, his pace increasing. His hands tightened on her bottom just as hers gripped the rippling hardness of his, holding his buttocks which always reminded her of two huge hard-boiled eggs. Arching her hips wantonly, she pulled him deliciously deeper into her as he drove and pumped. Within a minute it had all been over such was their impromptu lust as they panted and strained together, hips jerking wildly. Afterwards she had to return to the large bath and Henry joined her as they sensuously soaked together, giving them a nice appetite for the meal tonight.

No, it was as well that people could now only see the glamorous yet demure Louise as they sipped wine before taking their seats at the large table. It was just that she was keen for everything to go right. At twenty-seven, her career in a girl band was past, and although her modelling jobs and celebrity interviews gave her fame, she really needed to make it further into films to ensure her proper lifestyle and status. She had a really good feeling about this film, which should put her previous supporting roles in the shade. It was a work of pure fiction, set near the end of the World War 2. In it the Japanese intelligence knew about the impending dropping of more Atom bombs and, using commandos and secret agents, took a group of Western women as hostages. They would endure the rigours of a harsh discipline in a secret camp and be forced to plead for their lives to the newsreels, their fate being linked to whether the bomb was dropped. Then, naturally the American marines storm in to rescue them before anyone is killed.

She shivered a little in Henry's arms at the thought of the tough time ahead of her with filming. When reading the script properly and fully whilst on her lounger in the hotel this last week she guessed that it wouldn't be easy doing some of the shots. Yet it was a real opportunity for her. She still found it difficult to believe that the famous Japanese director, Santana, had wanted her for the lead role. OK she had sometimes felt a bit in awe of him during the screen tests but she had slowly come to admire and respect him as a person rather than just a powerful icon. There would apparently be plenty of nudity and violence - but what else sold films? She trusted Santana's judgement and anyway, she shrugged, she had insisted on using body doubles for many such scenes.

 

***

 

Bang, bang, bang!

Louise jumped in Henry's arms, screaming and going rigid as the first shots rang out in the hotel lobby, the abrupt and frightening noise shaking and tinkling lampshades. She saw figures dressed in green fatigues and carrying guns surging through the foyer towards them. They looked like soldiers and, using her scant knowledge from reading the script, they seemed to be in the uniform of Japanese World War Two soldiers. Her heart was racing but she guessed it was some kind of publicity stunt for the film. Having convinced herself that was what it was about she relaxed a little but she would still have a go at the public relations people for not letting her know - she was after all the star. The 'soldiers' approached, pushing people aside. It was very realistic and she was unable to prevent herself shivering in dread as her husband's arms tightened protectively about her.

"Well done guys, that looks like a good stunt," one of the extras, himself a stuntmen, a muscled lad with cropped brown hair, confirmed Louise's belief of it being staged as he turned to the armed uniformed men. "But maybe you shouldn't be shooting real guns in here; someone could get hurt."

"Like you, fucker," one of the burly men turned to him, swinging his gun round.

Bang! Bang!

"You- you've... shot... me..." the voice of the extra trailed off weakly as he watched with wide unbelieving eyes the blood dripping from his mouth whilst he clutched the spreading red stain over his chest. Slowly he sank to his knees and rolled over amidst the screams and gasps of several of the dancers.

"Shut fuck up, now!" The armed man fired his gun into the ceiling to stir up the lightshades again. "That what happen to any fucker who no do as told." The man turned round slowly in the centre of the now hushed room, brandishing his smoking weapon.

Cordite sharply tickled her nose and Louise felt sick with fear as she stood silent and transfixed. She looked around in the hope of seeing the Director, Santana, who by custom was usually in charge of everything around him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Yet as the star, the famous personality here, she felt a duty to say something in his absence. Breaking away from Henry she faced the man, who seemed to be in charge, feeling quite brave - hopefully the subsequent interviews would credit her with that.

"Please, no one has to get hurt if you just..." she raised her arms... "Haaah," she gasped as the man brutally jabbed the butt of his sub-machine gun into her belly, making her collapse to her knees. It was so painful, so unexpected and so frightening that someone could treat her like this. Her tummy ached as she desperately gasped, trying to suck in breath, thoroughly winded, feeling sick with pain and fear.

"You bastards... arghhhh," beside her she heard and saw through her red mist of agony Harry similarly crumple as he tried to intervene. Frantically she held up her hand to him to try to show that she was OK and avoid him getting hurt further.

"No one move or talk, you all now our prisoners," the sing-song Japanese voice echoed in the silent room. "All stand, immediately," he snapped and Louise gasped as a soldier's rough hand in her hair pulled her upright. She still struggled for breath, her stomach one big ache as Harry supported her despite his own obvious pain. "It better if everyone obey, if not, more get punished," the soldier nodded at the extra lying in the spreading red pool. "Men in line over there, women here, space out three feet apart!" He pointed to opposite sides of the large room.

"Please..." a soft voice whispered. The girl, someone Louise recognised as one of the extras, hastily complied after a gun was pointed at her. With a terrified and lingering look at her husband, Louise took her place in the line of frightened women, seeing Henry looking just as miserable across the room.

"No use mobile phones; all handbags at feet and all pockets to be emptied on floor. If anything found on you when body searched, you get punish," a squat brutish looking Japanese soldier shouted.

Louise felt so lost and cut off when she obediently placed her handbag at her feet. It contained her life, in effect. Without her purse and credit cards, mobile I-phone and such expensive paraphernalia she was virtually nothing - they defined her as woman, as a star. She ground her teeth in rage as one of the soldiers walked down their line, stuffing their bags into a sack and the same with the contents of the men's pockets. She looked around desperately, hoping to see the director. Maybe, a forlorn hope gripped her, he had escaped these thugs, or had heard what was happening and was even now calling for help?

"Now all to be body searched. Hands to head, legs apart - do it now!" The guard fired another shot into the ceiling so that everyone jumped and did as they were told.

This was all so demeaning. Louise was practically in tears as she obeyed the shameful command, feeling now just like a real prisoner of war.

"Look, buster I'm an American citizen, you can't just... aaarghhhhh," the lovely Negress actress, Salina Troy, doubled up in pain after a guard's rifle butt jabbed her painfully in the stomach when she wriggled away from the searching hands of another guard.

"On feet, fucking cow," the soldier snarled as he hauled her upright with a hand in her black hair.

Louise had, in truth, since their arrival on the island been a bit in awe of Salina, a feisty black girl also in her mid-twenties, and also trying to claw her way up in films. But now she felt nothing but sorrow for her as the Negress was forced to stand straight again and allow the evil hands to roam over her, roughly tugging out her shirt as they felt and patted her all over.

All Louise could do was somehow switch off her mind as she stood rigid with fury and tension as the guard finally reached her. The bastard, now grinning, had hot sweaty hands and he didn't care where they went. She ground her teeth as they lovingly patted down her supple body, disgustingly slowly, squeezing her boobs over the dress so obviously concealing nothing before crouching and patting down her thighs and up on their inside.

"Hah," she wriggled as his coarse fingers pushed upwards into the warm apex of her thighs, scrunching up her dress. It was so intimate and horrible.

"I like when you wriggle for me," the brute grinned, again patting her thigh. In the background she could see Henry's white and sweating face, watching as the swine mauled her.

"I trust everyone now know dangerous position they in? But I can maybe help?" It was a young and melodious, almost friendly voice with something familiar about it - and it wasn't interrupted or shouted down by their captors - so a good sign. Whoever it was had the confidence of these brutes, Louise hoped.

She looked round, surprised and grateful. It was a small lad, half English half Oriental, in his late teens or early twenties she guessed, dressed casually in jeans and tee-shirt - obviously not invited to the party. He was some sort of Anglo- Japanese assistant, she vaguely recalled, who she had seen running about doing errands for the production staff preparing the set over the last couple of days. She couldn't for the moment recall his name, something offbeat, but she thought she had picked up in passing that he was distantly related to someone higher up the food chain of the production team. But no matter how humble he might be, he was perhaps now their salvation, she pondered desperately, at least until Santana managed to get help - she must cling to that hope.

Guiltily she wished she had been nicer to the lad - all she could recall was uncharacteristically snapping at him yesterday because she didn't consider the writing on her chair was big enough. She had shouted at him that the letters of her name had to be clearly visible and bigger than the other names to emphasise that she was the star of the picture. He had a sister, too, she recalled as she now made out a girl of like age and with similar features standing behind him. But both of them had been - to her - just part of the multitude in the background to make her life more comfortable and enable the film to run efficiently. Now she wished she had taken more notice of the boy, she guessed that he could maybe be important to her. He seemed to be immune from the threats of their captors as he and his young sister ambled past the gun-toting guards to stand before her and the other captives, hands casually in their pockets.

"What! What's happening?" Louise spoke in a soft, high voice, still trying to breathe normally through the pain in her throbbing stomach. It was all she could think of to say as she instinctively lowered her stiff arms to match the boy's relaxed pose.

"And you are...? Sorry, I no quite recall," there was a mocking expression on his angular face, his small slanting eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Come on - you know who I am, what's happening, I..."

"Uh, uh, let's no rush things," he smiled unpleasantly at her. "You were once hoping to be film star but now you just another prisoner, a prisoner who needs to be obedient and respectful from now on. For some time I been working with the gentlemen who now control things round here and they won't know you. So for everyone's benefit, please state your name."

"It's - it's Louise Nurture and I'm - I'm the star of this picture and we are all pretty important people. The authorities will soon know what's going on and be all over this island and..." she stopped as the boy impudently held up his hand.

"Please - Miss Nurture, or Mrs?"

"Mrs, my husband's over there," she nodded towards Henry, guessing that she wasn't giving anything away - her marriage was common knowledge - but mentioning him, linking up with her husband even mentally, somehow gave her some added strength, she felt slightly less alone. "And I can tell you that... stealing our things... you're going to have some answering to do and..."

"Mrs Nurture, I'm afraid you get this all wrong," he smiled with deceptive friendless. "No-one will know what going on here until we decide it and then the authorities will do as they told if there no to be a bloodbath - just as you will if you no want to be punished. Firstly there is question of respect. As a prisoner, your hands should be back on head. And as for names, although I sure you probably never bothered to remember mine - I am affectionately called Wacky by my companions here. My sister is Wendy. However, as I am now one of your captors it easy for you to remember my name because you now address me as 'Sir,' and Wendy as Miss' - I think we need get this straight right now."

The name immediately clicked with Louise as she recalled hearing 'fetch this, fetch that, Wacky,' during the day, with similar lowly errands awarded Wendy. But she was damned if she, Louise Nurture, was now going to grovel to a slip of... She squared her shoulders, hands on hips, beginning a tetchy retort.

"But... now you just look here you young bastard... oow," Louise stepped back in shock, pain and disbelief as, quick as lightning the small lad had stepped up close to her and given her a hard slap around the face. Her hands pressed against her burning cheek as the guards pointed their guns at Henry and anyone else that looked as if they might wish to intervene.

"Oh Mrs Nurture - or shall I call you Louise? You must learn respect quicker than that if you wish to avoid you and friends getting hurt - or joining the ultimate fate of your other friend," he nodded at the ill-fated extra, the muscular man lying unmoving in a red pool. "And believe me - a little slap is just tiny sample of what happen to anyone who steps out of line. Now, you already been disrespectful and I need deal with that but unless you want something really nasty to happen to you, or those with you, please stand with hands on head like good girl, and address me respectfully."

"I..." for once her words dried up.

"Your script is on lines of 'I sorry for being disrespectful, Sir, it no happen again. You are my captor, Sir, and I will do as I told.' Can you remember that or are you too stupid?"

"I-I'm sorry, S-sir, I'll do as you say," Louise finally managed a grudging and abbreviated low-voiced response, feeling her cheeks redden with shame as she seethed inwardly.

"Oh, dear, I see that you crap actress, you cannot even get a few simple words right, nor stand as ordered with hands on your head."

"But I... look you. No, you cow... aaaghhhh," she gasped as Wacky's sister, Wendy crept up behind her and twisted her arm right up behind her back in a painful judo hold.

The youngster was strong and seemingly well versed in such violence. It felt as if her arm and back would break as she desperately arched her body to try and alleviate the pain, not caring that she was thereby nearly shoving her low-cut cleavage into Wacky's grinning face. Her bulging eyes, looking down in terror, saw the young girl efficiently unhook a little riding crop from her belt and begin to slash it down on her thighs.

"Cow eh; you need little lesson, bitch," the girl, several years her junior, spat.

"Noo.. .haaaaghhhh, stop, please..." she screeched plaintively as the thin whippy blows cracked down across her flailing legs making them feel as if they were on fire. Held in the girl's strong grip she was quite unable to do other than scream and wriggle, convinced from the burning pain of the three lashes that there would have been blood had it not been for the covering of her stockings.

Finally the blows stopped and both she and Wendy remained in a tight intimate tableau. The girl panted from her exertions and Louise sobbed with pain, still arched forward stiffly like a bow string. She could sense and feel Wendy's unnatural excitement as the girl held her body immovably close - seemingly enjoying herself - the bitch.

"Now you obviously need this stubbornness and stupidity knocked out of you before we get on and we need little demonstration of futility of disobedience for all concerned. We can carry on doing this, hurting you, but now we will switch to a nasty bull-whip, instead of little crop; it will skin you alive - literally." Wacky raised his thin eyebrows quizzically. "Or instead I will require you to willingly accept the lesser punishment of simple spanking from me to demonstrate your obedience. What it to be?"

Wacky smiled as one of the armed guards handed him a really large and horrid, medieval-looking whip with a long brown wooden handle. Its black coils practically oozed evil as the boy ran them through his fingers. Louise tried not to dwell on the thought of those thick strands cutting deep into her tender body more used to soft hands and lotions. She was convinced it would kill her. Although the thought of anyone spanking her, let alone the creepy boy, was obnoxious and perverted, the alternative of being actually whipped with that brutal object was not an option. That was something that happened to criminals in the Victorian times and earlier, not in the 21 century - and not to her, not to a beautiful film star.

She looked desperately round the room but knew that no one could help her; Henry and her companions stood immobile and tense under the guns of the guards. She knew she had no choice.

"Please... not the whip... haaah," she gasped as the girl's crop lashed her leg again.

"I think you find it less painful to say, 'please not the whip, Sir, please spank me.' Do you think that you can manage that or shall we try the whip anyway to improve your crap memory?" The lad flexed the ghastly coils before her wide and terrified eyes.

"No, please... Sir, don't use it - don't use the whip, Sir," she held up her free hand to him in surrender.

"And you want me to...?"

"Sp-spank me, spank me... Sir," she whispered the hateful words, finally being rewarded with having her arm returned to her and frantically rubbing life back into it.

"It take while, but you finally got some obedience into stupid, thick skull," the boy smirked, clipping her round the head with the flat of his hand as if she were a cretin, jarring her thoughts. Her fists balled in tension, oh how she would love to fly at the boy who so humiliated her but seeing his sister now lovingly cradling the awful whip, and knowing what the girl could do, not to mention the guns of the guards, she controlled her temper- if not her fear.

"Now, you take off that pretty dress so I can, er, see what I doing."

"What!... please," she covered her trembling mouth with her hand as Wendy raised the whip.

"That the way it be done, pretty Louise. You either take off dress - and what left of stockings," he nodded at the several ladders on her once sheer stockinged legs, "and touch your toes in front of me - or Mr Whip take over. I seen my sister practice and I reckon ten strokes would cut all those pretty clothes off what left of skin - then she start lashing you for punishment properly. Hurry up, I hungry for that nice dinner which was intended for you. What it to be?"

Louise looked once more round the sea of shining faces watching her in sympathy - but with no hope. Feeling sick, her legs barely able to offer support, her trembling hands went to the buttons on the side of her dress aware of Wacky's excited face. OK, she was used to acting in front of a crowd, but now she wasn't acting, she was trying to survive in the hands of these sadists who were determined to hurt and humiliate her. She tried mutely appealing with her wide and frightened eyes to the girl, surely another woman would know how awful it would be to take her clothes off before everyone like this. She felt so lost and vulnerable. But Wendy merely smiled, licking her lips, waiting for the show to begin.