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More Slavery For Jayne - Book Five In The Oasis Saga (Ian Smith)


More Slavery For Jayne - Book Five In The Oasis Saga by Ian Smith

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... Jayne has completed her sentence at the dreaded Xanxta and is travelling through Chile with her young friend Rhiannon when they inadvertently stray into a secret military zone.
A gift of two very pretty foreign girls who have no chance of escape is something the military just cannot overlook and they are swiftly brought to trial and sentenced to 90 days' detention! Instantly they are stripped, then gang banged by their captors before being transported to nearby local town and auctioned, a harsh initiation into the world of virtual slavery for the innocent Rhiannon.
For Jayne, of course, this is merely a re-run of the nightmares of Xanxta.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 10 / 2011

No. words: 35000

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Excerpt

Author's note: the events in this story take place a year after those chronicled in "Oasis: The Punishment Of Jayne".


CHAPTER ONE JAYNE; LIEUTENANT SANTOS

Jayne Harrison and Rhiannon Stokes looked out across the hills and admired the view.
They were a quite a good sight to see themselves. Both just short of their twentieth birthdays, they were very attractive girls. Jayne was a blonde, with fine hair that she had always worn short and tousled but which of late she had started growing longer so that it now just touched her shoulders. Her figure was excellent, her proportions not far short of the classic hourglass. Rhiannon was a curvy, sultry brunette, whose smouldering looks belied her quiet nature. That nature was part of the reason why Jayne liked her so much: after a very bad experience nearly a year ago, the blonde was averse to domineering types. Rhiannon, on the other hand, liked Jayne because she was supportive without being bossy.
They were both coming to the end of their first year at university. As geology students, the chance had come their way for a field trip to Chile and they were now backpacking from town to town, relaxing in the splendid wilderness between the isolated settlements. Being a long, thin country, Chile varies in weather from the southern tip within the Arctic circle to the northern end well inside the tropics, and as they were north of centre, it was agreeably warm.
Pulling her shoulders back, Jayne inhaled deeply, letting the crisp, clean air fill her lungs. It was good: it refreshed her, made her feel pure, washed away ... certain memories. That was nearly a year ago now, and behind her. She felt good again: she had paid her debt to society, and her life had begun anew. She looked at Rhiannon, who was admiring the view, unaware of her friend's gaze. Rhiannon was a beauty, a real looker; so, Jayne knew without conceit, was she herself. Sometimes, it was nice for such beautiful girls to get away from the boys, to drop all posing, to just be themselves. She'd been wary of this field trip - her last trip abroad had been a very unpleasant experience - but now she was very glad she had come. Rhiannon and she, good friends since their first day at university, had bonded even closer.
Rhiannon, becoming aware of Jayne's gaze, smiled coyly. Averting her gaze, Jayne consulted the map. "We need to aim for that direction," she said, gesturing.
Rhiannon nodded. The terrain was mostly firm moor land, easy going for the two fit girls. "Best way would be to drop through that valley," she observed. "What's that group of buildings over to the right?"
"I don't know," said Jayne. "It's not marked on the map."
"Looks sort of military. Oh well, let's get going."
They made their way down the slope and were half way across the valley floor when they heard the sound of a motor engine. Two jeeps were making their way towards them. As the girls watched, the jeeps pulled up and half a dozen soldiers jumped out. To their shock and considerable concern, automatic rifles and guns were immediately levelled at them.
The commander of the men shouted something in Spanish, but when the girls merely looked baffled he tried again in English. "Stand still and put your hands in the air!" His voice brooked no argument, but the girls, very afraid of the weapons, would not have resisted anyway. Nervously, they raised their arms.
"What is it?" asked Jayne with a tremor-filled voice. "What's wrong?"
"Why are you spying on our base?" the commander barked.
"S-spying? No, we're just geology students on a field trip. We have papers to prove that. We didn't even know the base was there."
"You expect a secret base to be on the maps? All right, get into the jeeps."
"But ... but ..."
Rifle bolts were drawn back. Jayne could tell that the soldiers were tense: a single twitch on a trigger finger and one of the girls could be killed. Hesitantly, she climbed into one of the jeeps, her back pack making it difficult. Rhiannon got into the other jeep. The soldiers all crowded back in, watching the girls closely. Physically, they were too close for comfort. The jeeps raced back to the camp, bumping over the hard ground. The girls were ushered into a room and left there. The door was locked behind them.
The atmosphere eased just a little once the men with guns were gone, but Rhiannon still looked very worried, almost shaking with fear. "What do you think they're doing?" she asked tremulously.
Jayne shook her blonde head. Inside, she could feel her heart pounding against her rib cage. "I don't know, but I don't like it," she replied, finding talking difficult because of her own nerves. "Remember that Chile is still a semi-fascist dictatorship, whatever their propaganda says."
Rhiannon shrugged. "During my gap year, I trekked around half the dictatorships of Asia and I never had a situation like this."
Jayne said nothing. She had also had a year out before going to university, rather less voluntarily, and the less she thought about what she'd had to do during that nightmare time, the happier she was.
The door bursting open interrupted her thoughts. Another officer, senior to the first to judge by his insignia, came in. He glared at the two girls. "The area around this training camp is off limits to civilians, particularly foreigners," he said sharply.
"We didn't know," pleaded Rhiannon. "There were no signs."
He brushed this aside. "You were trespassing on a military installation. That is a serious offence."
"We're not spies," Jayne protested.
"If I thought you were spies, I would be assembling the firing squad right now."
Both girls went hot and cold. "We're British citizens," began Rhiannon defensively.
"I could not care less," the man said dismissively. "However, I do not believe you to be spies, so you are guilty only of trespass. That carries a mandatory sentence of ninety days."
"N-ninety days!" gasped Jayne. Rhiannon also began to plead their case.
The officer waved their protests aside. "That is the standard penalty. However, we have no suitable incarceration facility here and besides, I do not see why you should just lounge around in the cells getting fat and eating our food for nothing. There is a closed resort a hundred miles north of here for government officials and important citizens, as place called Corvalle. You will be sent there to serve your imprisonment terms - as slaves!"
"S-slaves?" Rhiannon gasped.
"Oh God, no, not again," Jayne breathed quietly. She suddenly felt very cold. Rhiannon looked at her curiously.
"Slaves," the officer said firmly. "You are both young and attractive: your assets will be put to good use!"
He turned on his heel and abruptly left the room. Silence fell.
"What are we going to do?" Rhiannon eventually asked.
Jayne went over to the single dusty window and looked out. She had heard the key turn in the door lock after the man had left. Even if they got out of the room, they had little chance of getting off the base and even then the surrounding countryside would afford them nowhere to hide. She had noticed a helicopter at the base: they could be tracked down in minutes. "I don't know," she said quietly.
There was a long silence, heavy with the tension of the girls' fear. It was Rhiannon again who eventually broke it. "Jayne, what did you mean when you said, 'not again'?"
The blonde lowered her head. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.
The door opened again. Jayne was almost thankful for the distraction; almost, but not quite. Another officer entered, looking junior in rank to the one who had just recently left. He sat at the desk, facing the girls. "I am Lieutenant Santos, the general's executive officer. Let's see your passports and papers," he said. It was the first time they had not been barked at.
Both girls handed their documents over. He studied them.
"You speak good English," said Jayne, trying to be friendly in the hope that he would help them.
"Thank you. Most of our senior army officers were educated in England. Amongst the army command, and therefore the national government, English is the dominant language."
He closed the passports, but did not hand them back. "These are in order."
"They prove we're who we say we are," pointed out Rhiannon, a little flicker of hope rising.
He shrugged. "You're probably not spies, I would agree with that. However, it changes nothing. The general has total jurisdiction and he has sentenced you to ninety days. You will find that Chilean law specifically gives an officer of his rank full authority in such cases. It also allows no appeal."
The girls spent some minutes protesting, something they had been too frightened to do with the general. It got them nowhere. This officer, for all his quieter approach, was as inflexible as his boss. Their frustrations and fears began to rise.
"Why are you doing this?" wailed Rhiannon. "And what did he mean when he said ... slaves?"
The executive smiled. "The city to which you will be taken is very isolated. Only people with influence go there, plus those who serve them in one capacity or another. You will serve in the lowest capacity of all." He smiled, but it was not a particularly pleasant smile. "You may harbour the suspicion that the general will get a little commission for delivering two such, ah, useful and decorative baubles, but I could not possibly comment on that."
Rhiannon visibly shivered. Jayne asked quietly, "is this city anything like ... Xanxta?"
The executive raised an eyebrow. "Xanxta? Now how would you know about that place?"
"I've ... read about it," Jayne said defensively.
"I hadn't realised that they'd allowed their secrets out of the bag. Anyway, you've hit the nail right on the head. Corvalle is run on very similar lines, very similar indeed."
"Oh God," Jayne whispered softly.
Rhiannon clearly didn't understand a word of this and perhaps didn't want to. "When we go missing, the British government will want to know where we are," she pointed out.
"And we will tell them," the executive replied with equanimity. "We are perfectly within our rights. However, given the nature of your sentence, you may prefer to hush the whole thing up. I'm sure you could produce a cover story to the effect that you have decided to stay on in Chile for a while longer. We would be prepared to be ... accommodating to such a deception: it would be convenient all around." He rose. "I will give you twenty minutes to consider that option and then, if you decide to go ahead with it, we will take whatever steps are needed to facilitate it. Either way, you will then be transported to the coast where there is a supply boat leaving today for Corvalle. I will return in twenty minutes." He took their passports and documents with him, another nail in their coffins.
As soon as he was gone, Rhiannon turned her beautiful, deep eyes on Jayne. "I don't understand any of this," she said. "What did he mean when he said, 'given the nature of your sentence'?"
"I think you do know, Rhiannon," Jayne said gently, "you just don't want to admit it. We're going to be sex slaves."


Author Information

Ian Smith was ordering books by Victor Bruno from Olympia when he saw their advert for authors and sent in a sample script. His first book, "The Wench Whackers' Ball" - later retitled "Ali, Slavegirl Incarnate" - was published less than three months later. Now, ten years later, he has written and seen published over twenty books.
A keen writer since childhood (and now in his forties), Ian enjoys trying to project the feelings of innocent girls caught up in fantastic and daunting circumstances. Sometimes he starts with a planned outline of a book, but often with just a single idea which develops along the way. Some of his books run in series, with recurring characters, others are one-offs.
Ian always has at least half a dozen ideas for more books and gradually those ideas are turned into reality. But then some more ideas turn up ...

 

Publisher Information

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