Chasing Paradise Ch 02

Chapter 2 - Unhappy Landings

Yorotani Island Airfield (Two Days to the Hunt)

A crack of light appeared in front of her. The rear door of the plane dropped down to form a ramp, and one of the four handlers she could see boarded the aircraft. It was strange, she thought, no matter where you went and no matter who they worked for "handlers" all looked the same. This particular unit opted for red coveralls with black baseball caps whose white front panel bore the logo of the Hotel Yorotani. Prominent at their waists were belts with two pairs of handcuffs on one side, and what looked a SlutShokk control baton at their other hip. Slutshokks were a wicked mix of high voltage incapacitation equipment, and hardened extendable nightstick. She winced at the thought of it. She'd seen the things used once by BFA agents pacifying a runaway slave. The smell was something she'd not forgotten, a mixture of acrid ozone and singed flesh.

The flight at least hadn't been too long, but without natural light it had been hard to tell. For the last two hours the group of them had been kept in the darkness of the cramped, and windowless hold. Not for them the plush seats, free drinks, and lavish food of the passenger deck above them. Instead they'd been crushed into whatever space was left once the luggage compartment had been installed. It had not been a pleasant experience. While they were allowed to talk none of them really had much to say, from behind her she'd heard occasional tears, and quiet comforting words. Now the reality was truly hitting them all.

She'd tried, of course, to strike up a little conversation with the girls either side of her. The one on her right had been a dirty blonde, a few years older than her. She'd worked as a fitness trainer for schools, companies, even for masters who felt their slave needed some work. Eventually business had dried up and she realised she was going to be quite a lot short of her second freedom pass, even adding a free blowjob every 3rd session hadn't been enough to make up the difference.. The first time she'd managed a two year pass, but now with the increases in rates and her business failing she was short of even 12 more months. The woman on the other side was Pippa, she hadn't said her last name. She was more slight than a lot of the women on the plane, and her head of jet black hair had to be within a few millimetres of the minimum required female length. Pippa was less talkative, a lot less talkative in fact. She'd tried to strike up a conversation with Pippa before Pippa had almost bitten her head off, snapping that they weren't friends, and if it took condemning someone else to slavery for her own freedom then so be it. She'd kept her head down after that, like a child scolded at dinner.

The handler who had boarded walked up to a yellow control box mounted near the top of the ramp and fished around on a bunch of keys for the appropriate one. He turned the key in the box and a buzzer sounded as the magnetic locks on their harnesses released, the LEDs changing from green to red to show the women were no longer properly restrained. She'd known they were mostly for safety but having her shoulders, waist, neck and crotch all secured by magnetically locked harnesses for the duration of the flight made her feel far more like a prisoner than she was entirely comfortable with at the moment.

"Remain seated until your name is called. When your name is called you will proceed down the ramp and stop at the white mark on the tarmac. A handler will call you over when they are ready, and give you further instructions." shouted the handler as he flipped through sheets on a clipboard.

"Pippa McArdle...Sammy Shore...Ellen Wilson...Poppy Taylor..."

One by one women got up from their seats and began to line up for the next handler. She couldn't see what was going on but the rock that sat lumpen and ponderous in the pit of her stomach was getting colder and heavier as the seats her emptied one by one.

"Amelia Jackson...Morgan Green...Bella Griffiths...Freya Murray..."

What happened if they didn't call her name, she thought, would she just be sent back, would she not be included, would she just be here on the island? It didn't look too bad. Maybe there was a mixup. Maybe she should say she never meant to get on the plane in the first place, she could go back home and...and then what? She'd made it through high school, yes, but she hadn't got into any of the programmes the other girls had. She didn't have contacts at companies to get her internships, no friends to recommend her for even sexretarial work. She'd be going home to a ticking clock on the 3 week stay of sale after her Primary Inspection. If they turned around now she'd go back to begging her father to just give her a year before selling her. The fact her "mother" had been a rotating cast of women barely older than she was now told her how successful that would be.

She knew if she went home now that in just a few short days a van would pull up outside with the Girlmart branding on it, and that would be that. One night a few years ago she hadn't been able to sleep, and she'd gone to the kitchen for a drink. Unusually her father had left her current 'Mother' in her cage overnight. They talked. She'd asked about the woman's own experiences. She'd been told what would happen. Either she'd agree willingly to get in, or they'd tackle her, strip her, bind her and throw her in the back of the van. Then it would be off to either a specialised Girlmart facility, or a local Bureau of Female Affairs one depending on capacity. So many women were being enslaved these days that keeping pace with the spaces required was taxing for both big companies, and the government.

She'd be lead through a facility into the rape halls. She'd cry, she'd scream, beg for freedom, and men who'd seen it all would calmly and efficiently break her. They had it down to a science, the woman had said. Her name might have been Slickpussy, possibly Cryingwhore... The men, she remembered her saying, would spend days or even weeks using a mixture of carefully measured sex, pain, and restraint to reconfigure the female mind. She'd made no bones about it. She remembered her pre-enslavement time, as a girl out in the countryside before one of the big dairy firms had killed her father's business, and forced her to be sold to get them and their herd through the year. She'd done everything she could to resist, but by the end of a week with nothing but cum to eat and drink, being constantly degraded, and the only moments of comfort being those when she was being fucked she felt her mind change.

She'd tried to rationalise it, stop it, convince herself that she didn't want to love her masters, be their willing plaything but as soon as she found herself the object of their cock's attention it was like her conscious brain switched off and she became a compliant whore begging to be taken. It had been strange to watch her explain. Half of what she said was pure revulsion at the thought of being chained up, and being forced to gently nurse a cock with her tongue from a flaccid pale flabby thing all the way to desperately trying to consume all of it that she could so the act of swallowing cum would light up the vastly altered pleasure centres of her brain. The other half of what she was saying was accompanied by deep breathing and her visibly attempting not to finger herself as she described her time in the rape halls of a gigantic Girlmart logistics facility near Snatchfield. She had a lot of conversations late at night with that particular mother. One of them was how she found out her father had been investigating what Girlmart rates he might expect for her.

Her father hadn't been unpleasant about it, and he did love her in his own way but he was so tied to the ideas of the revolution he saw it as the best thing for her that she be owned and enjoyed by other men, her own feelings never entered into it. As far as he was concerned it was his patriotic duty to add his own contribution to the field of available fuckmeat, and then to enjoy for a while the fruits he liked best. She'd watched him with all of them...he was tender where it mattered, loving even...but that never stopped the long nights of the first few weeks so full of screaming, and crying. Some of the women had begged her for something sharp to cut off the slaveband, or for the key to their cage so they could at least stand while her father was out. One girl had overpowered her, escaped the house and gone on the run. She'd never forget the girl's eyes when the BFA returned her. She was broken, obedient, and absolutely terrified. The woman had cowered whenever anyone had come near her...desperate not to be hit or hurt...those eyes were burned into her brain. Now like with the one who'd explained the rape halls to her she couldn't even remember the woman's servonym. Slut-something? Tittyslap?

"Saffi Patel.."

She jolted to alertness, stood, and almost before she knew it joined the queue of women making their way down the ramp. She could see now what was happening. As each one approached the handler something was strapped to their arm and a small explanation was being given, not that she could hear it from here. The weather outside the plane was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and now she was descending the ramp towards the mark on the floor with each name called she had the time to look and see that the surrounding area was beautiful. Everything had been cut back to the airstrip and its wire fence, but outside was lush greenery that rose slowly to a distant mountain. She almost felt out of place in her comfortable t-shirt, jeans, some second hand boots, and an old jacket covered in fading patches for bands. Half those bands now had members who were paraded around in chains at fan fuck festivals after a series of management companies had folded and left a lot of female performers with no income to speak of. They still got to sing the classics, but the afterparties were a lot messier now...

The queue in front of her dwindled until it was her turn. She waited patiently for the signal she knew would come, and when summoned walked the few yards to the table the handler was working from. They had a bin of watch-like items, and a tablet device they'd been working with, that much Saffi had seen, but now was her time to find out what was going on.

"Okay, slut, present your non-dominant arm. What's going to be placed on you is a tracker that will monitor all your movements on the island. It is magnetically locked, has tamper protection, and will prevent you from entering forbidden areas. It will also allow us to alert you to certain things as and when they become important."

She held out her right arm and the handler slid the device over her wrist, it looked for all the world like a smartwatch. The handler held down a couple of the buttons and she felt the band adjust to her, tightening up enough that there was no way she was removing it easily.

"Proceed to the next line where the device will be registered."

She joined another queue a few yards on. She knew the device didn't weigh more than a few grammes but it felt heavy next to her skin. Cold, metallic, alien. It wasn't long before she was called forward to the next handler who held up a reader to the device. She saw the screen of the tablet he held as he altered some settings. Her name, a map of the island with her location, her heartrate, speed and bearing. Two buttons blinked amber begging to be pressed, one labelled shock, the other labelled G-Pax (A drug she knew was held in a slave's neckband to both immobilise them, and cause extreme pain either if the owner triggered it, or the device was tampered with). She had wondered how they planned to prevent access to "forbidden" areas. It turned out electric shocks and chemically induced extreme pain were the major part of it. She kept quiet as her heart raced. The Handler looked up to see her peering at the tablet and re-angled it away from her.

"Get on the bus, slut." he said as he kept his eyes to the screen, pointing over to a slightly sun-bleached red vehicle parked on the runway apron facing a gravel road that looked to be the exit of the airfield. Saffi walked over to the final handler who stood at the open side door and he checked her name off his list as she approached. "Take a seat, slut, we move when we're done."

Climbing abord she found the bus had multiple rows of benches, split down the middle by a narrow aisle. The windows of the passenger area were blacked out, and a thick metal mesh separated passengers from two front rows of seats accessed by another door. The whole thing reminded her of a prison bus so she was surprised at first to find a lack of restraints until realisation dawned that with the tracker she now wore there was no need. Where was she planning to go? This was a private island far from Pussiana and far enough away from any other dry land that even being skilled with a boat wouldn't guarantee a safe escape.

Escape...she hated the word. She'd watched the news, read books. Pussiana and a few key allies were the last bastions of any actual civilisation. As much as she hated the Compulsory Female Slavery Law that practically forced her to be here it was all that stood between the order of Pussiana, and the absolute chaos of the world outside.

She sighed as she sat down next to a couple of other girls who looked equally quiet and contemplative while they waited for the last few girls to be fitted up and put on the bus. Through the door she could see some of the regular passengers exiting the plane from the upper compartment. Lots of suits, expensive looking ones, mostly men. A few women who appeared to be barenecks, fully paid up free women, got off the plane, but between them a whole host of slaves in various states of undress, there were even a few puppy girls mixed in, as well as one or two who appeared to have been punished for usage of their hands during blowjobs. She shuddered to think of the outrageous and cruel punishments slaves could be subjected to, and all in the name of reinforcing their subjugation to the males around them.

It didn't take long for the last few girls to be processed and take their seats, at which point one of the handlers entered the passenger compartment and began to read from their clipboard.

"The Hotel Yorotani wishes to welcome you to its exclusive resort as volunteers for the upcoming hunt. Please note that from now until the time you leave the island you will be constantly tracked and monitored at all times. We remind you that while you may withdraw from the hunt at any point up to its beginning you will be responsible for all expenses incurred by TopSlut corporation, henceforth referred to as TSC, up to that point, and that failure to pay at that point will result in payment by permanent transference of your ownership from your Closest Male Relative, henceforth referred to as your CMR, to the TopSlut corporation."

The text was being read in a bored monotone, as if the man had read it a thousand times. He was barely even looking at the paper, she noticed, mostly just using it to avoid eye contact with the women on the bus.

"On arrival at the hotel you will be located within the runner section. At no point should you attempt to access the staff, or patron areas of the hotel. You have free access to food, drinks, and exercise equipment by presenting your tracker to staff until the morning of the hunt. The only other organised activity previous to the hunt will be the Showcase where you will be displayed for the hunters. Failure to attend the showcase will result in your withdrawal and the aforementioned penalties."

Saffi didn't like the sound of whatever this Showcase was. She didn't want to know who would be chasing her. She wanted to think of them as faceless monsters, something to run from, to hide from, to put as far behind her as she possibly could. Meeting them might make them human, make her rationalise that she might end up with them, or worse might make one of them pick her out as a possible target. She just wanted to vanish into the jungle and emerge later victorious and free.

She mulled over in her head how ridiculous that sounded. What did she expect? To wander out to freedom dressed in animal skins with a bow she'd whittled herself while on the run? The voice in her head that mocked her at moments like this told her she wouldn't make it 50 yards before a lasso landed around her and dragged her to a waiting and inviting neckband. Maybe she should just give up now, she thought, admit defeat, get her servonym and prepare her holes for whatever awaited. Something inside her burned again. She wanted to be free, she needed to be free. She didn't want to end up like every other woman, used and tossed aside. She'd survive, she'd make it. She looked around the bus again and for the first time really took in the women who were her competition. They were tall, lean, sleek, looking far more athletic than she did. No, she told herself, they're the ones going home in slavebands. I'm going to make it, she thought.

The handler finished reading from his clipboard; she'd barely been listening. She got the gist, though. Don't mix with the paying guests, don't leave the compound unless instructed, turn up to the showcase, and be ready on the day of the hunt.

Having finished reading the handler gave the women a small pause where she knew they could back out, maybe others had before, broken before the event and just accepted slavery. Today was not one of those days. The handler got out of the side door which hissed closed behind him. Saffi noticed that unlike a normal bus some rather chunky bolts secured the doors top and bottom as they closed. It looked like maybe they didn't quite entirely trust their trackers as much as she'd thought.

The Hotel Yorotani (Two Days to the Hunt)

The bus ride was only a few minutes, not long at all, but the girls had no idea where they were in relation to the airstrip. The blacked out windows had seen to that. The bus almost slide to a halt on the gravel road, and after handlers had disembarked from the front the rear doors of the bus opened and they were beckoned out. What Saffi saw on leaving was a contrast. The building they were being taken to looked for all the world like a luxury hotel, but the barbwire topped heavy mesh fence sent a very different message. Extra handlers were present to takeover from those on the bus, and instructed each of the girls to hold their tracker to a panel by a secure turnstyle. They'd be entering by this gate, she thought, but the lack of a panel on the other side said they wouldn't be leaving by it.

The hotel itself sat in an odd place, backed into a cliff with maybe six feet of facade protruding, 4 floors were visible, and then after another 30 feet of cliff the eye was drawn to an impressive upper building. Saffi guessed this was probably the one the paying guests were staying at.

Scanning herself in through the turnstyle Saffi could now see that there had been an effort, inside the fence, to make things somewhat pleasant. The grounds were well tended, some short hedges almost hid squares of short stone benches, a central fountain babbled away. It would almost have been picturesque had the fountain not been a reproduction Stivalonian piece where the God of war was raping the Godess of the sea. Water babbling forth from her pussy and the corners of her eyes as the other god stood over her, his hands pulling her ankles wide apart, his impressive stone phallus poised ready to continue jackhammering her ass at any second. Saffi always wondered why classical pieces seemed to go for Stivalonian stuff, some of the gods of the east were far more interesting, she thought, and far better at pleasuring their chosen harems.

They entered through double doors under an ornate marble canopy, with a frieze of women bound in and violated by growing vines. Whoever designed the place, she thought, wanted to make sure from the get go that every woman who walked through that courtyard most definitely knew their place in life. The inside of the hotel seemed to match the exterior. Black and white checkerboard stone floors, monochrome art, splashes of red. Everything was light, airy, and about as far from sinister as it was possible to get yet the marble gave off a cold, and unyielding aura as if intended more for the ornate entrance to a crypt than a hotel. This having been said, though, it was still by far one of the most sumptuous places Saffi had ever seen, let alone stayed in.