Chapter Six
Michael Forsyth leaned against the balcony rail and hoisted a pair of
neck-suspended binoculars. He focused on an ancient freighter tied among
non-descript freighters in the busy Hong Kong harbor below. It was the sixth
time in the past half hour he had examined the shipboard activity on that
particular vessel. Dropping the glasses he inhaled on a cigarette he held
pinched between his fingers and then flipped it out into the street six blocks
below.
He was known as Michael Forsyth in the Orient. That was one of many names he
used here and in Europe. The name recorded on his birth certificate back in the
States had no relevance to the business he was involved in.
Again lifting the glasses he slowly panned down the length of the vessel. He
lowered the glasses to light another cigarette. His chain smoking was the only
expression of pressure he ever exhibited.
Within the hold of that ship, packed in boxes labeled "construction
equipment" was a large quantity of armaments meant for the Nationalist Chinese
forces. The current political situation had created a shortage in the market and
Forsyth had made a fortune in just such opportunities,
. When the British Customs were off the ship and he could transport the cargo
to his warehouse then he would consider the job done. He had reviewed and
considered every possible contingently. The British bureaucrats were paid off
and these final steps should be simple routine. But, Forsyth never trusted
"routine".
He stood upright and turned away from the harbor activity. He exhaled a cloud
of smoke and smiled. He had developed the ability to handle stressful times by
emptying his mind of pending concerns and refocusing on other matters. He was
thinking about his nephew.
He wondered if John had discovered the trap he had left for him. Forsyth
manipulated people; it was one of his fascinations. Leaving the youth in his
home without a challenge would be too much like leaving him with the keys to a
brothel. He wanted to see what John was truly made of.
Forsyth knew John's all-American boy personality and Ingrid would invariably
clash. Like oil and water the two would never mix.
He had known Ingrid for many years, but other another name. Forsyth had a
very unique ability to quickly pickup new languages and assimilate himself
seamlessly into foreign cultures. He had been working with the American Foreign
Service off and on since the mid-thirties. He first met "Ingrid" in the late
thirties when she was with her father, the German ambassador to France. Then in
the closing days of the war he had seen her name on a very secret SS document.
During the war he had been in France as liaison between the Allies and the
French resistance. He had been with that group when the contact had been made
from Germany. A cadre of highly placed Nazi Government officials wanted asylum
and were ready to pay gold for it.
He had arranged for her escape to Venezuela. Several years later he had
arranged a new identity for her and brought her to the States. Her
eccentricities amused him and he found her company a refreshing shift from the
postwar blandness of America
Lisa had also come into his life during that period. He had been in Rome
during the peacetime Allied occupation. His ability to speak Italian had placed
him in a position of negotiations during the restructuring of a new government.
He had met secretly with several Mafioso who wanted to deal.
The meeting had reached an impasse and Forsyth had stood, turned his back on
the men and walked to an open window. Looking out into the bustling street below
he had seen a nun leading a group of uniformed girls across the square. Lisa had
stood out from the group like a beacon. That the cool American had seen
something causing his head to turn alerted the old Don who stood and looked out
the window. The old criminal smiled when he saw the object of Forsyth's
attention.
Lisa had been the "sweet" added to the deal that was finally completed.
Forsyth left Rome with her and a telegraph from Geneva stating that a large
deposit had been made to his account. The Mafia was given access to the new
government.
Forsyth's reverie was broken by the approach of soft footsteps. A naked
Chinese girl knelt at his feet and held up a saucer and cup of tea to him. "Tea,
Master?" she asked softly in Cantonese. She was very young and beautiful. She
had been a gift from a local warlord for Forsyth's influence with an American
Oil firm.
"Thank you sweet flower,' he replied in flawless Cantonese.
My lounge chair jerked and disturbed my nap. I opened my eyes and reoriented
myself. I was laid out naked in the penthouse's solarium on the roof of the
building. It was a warmly brilliant afternoon, seemingly meant for nothing but
complete relaxation.
I looked down between my outstretched legs to determine what had disturbed my
repose. The naked Lisa was on her knees was at the end a silver linked leash,
which ran from her neck collar to a clip on the arm of my chair. The chair again
jerked slightly as she attempted to reach a massive law book which just beyond
her fingertips.
Other such books surrounded her. Some books where stacked and others were
opened to whatever she was researching. She caught the edge of the out-of-reach
book with her fingernails and pulled it to her. With a satisfied smile she sat
back on her heels and hoisted the book onto her lap. She turned her head to me,
sensing my attention and gave me a lovely smile.
She used a pair of reading glasses for the fine print in the texts. The
glasses were perched on the end of her nose and she looked at me over the rims.
She had her long hair tied in a very loose bun on top of her head. Several loose
strands curled on her forehead. She had rubbed oil over herself and she gleamed
in the sun. I noticed several beads of perspiration clung to her large outthrust
breasts.
"I thought you would never wake up," she said brightly, "Look what I have
found." She ran a finger across a page leaving a slight oil smudge on the paper.
She then began a legal discourse worthy of a practicing attorney. I lay my head
back and immediately lost interest. This particular argument, which dealt with
an obscure facet of the law, had been ongoing for days now. I was on vacation I
told myself. I had planned to take the bar exam next winter and considered
myself on summer break. I had found the past weeks every bit as challenging as
the final year of law school.
I had come to realize that Lisa had a quick-minded genius coupled with a
boundless energy. She would focus on a problem until she had worked it out. My
uncle had not left me in this situation simply for my youthful stud services.
Although I would concede the time we spent on law was balanced by our sexual
escapades. Lisa could focus her entire attention on what she enjoyed.
The past few weeks had been wonderful. Lisa and I had become very close. I
had to discipline my heart. I had never been in romantic love before and this
relationship with her was like being perched at the edge of a bottomless chasm.
I had to concentrate on maintaining an emotional detachment from her.
Her insistent voice intruded on my thoughts. "See right here... in 1949...
Smith vs. Smith... the court decided... " I reached down and tugged her leash
pulling her to me. She looked up briefly then scooted on her knees between my
spread legs. Holding the book she continued reading out loud.
She would order these books by phone and a very extensive law library would
deliver them the next day. Her tutored classes had a scholarship level and I
thought she could compete at any Ivy League school. I received a shock one day
when I noticed one of her teachers leaving. I had seen his picture before as
author of one of the more highly regarded texts of the day.
She walked her fingers up my leg stopping to squeeze my thigh as she
emphasized the point she was making. I felt my groin stir.
She stopped reading and looked at me. "See? It is as exactly as I said!" she
told me, delighted with herself. She began reading out load again to me.
I tugged the leash again, taking in the slack so she was pulled toward my
crotch. She looked up and noticed my semi-erect cock bobbing before her. "Oh,"
she said. She pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned forward to take the head
of my cock in her mouth. I spread my thighs, smiled and laid my head back. After
a moment I felt the hot suction leave my penis and heard a wet "pop" as her lips
left the gland. "But, listen to this," she said. Holding the book in one hand
she slowly stroked my cock with the other. She began reading where she had left
off.
I abruptly interrupted her discourse. "You know that birch switch that hangs
by itself on the wall in the punishment room? Do you think that would leave
blister-welts on someone?" I stared up into the clouds as if in deep thought.
She stopped reading. I could feel her stare. Although our relationship had
developed a closeness that permitted much play and back and forth foolish
interaction, she was aware of a cruel side in me that kept her watchful.
"I would not know, but I think someone would have to be particularly sadistic
to use that," she said primly. But she set aside the book then ran her hands up
around my hips. She slid forward rubbing her full, oiled, firm breasts against
my inner thighs. She grasped my rising cock and pulled it to her lips. She
slowly lowered her mouth until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. We had
practiced in the past weeks until she was able to take all of me.
I thought to myself that life was grand. I reclined further in the chair so
my hips were at the edge of the chair.
"Lower little slave," I said. "Go way down"
She slowly brought her mouth up my penis, stopping at the end to slowly bob
her head. I brought my head up and watched her. She looked delightful with her
beautiful face, reading glasses and my large cock stretching her puckered lips.
Sliding her hand across me she grasped the cock and gently let me slide from her
lips as she rolled her tongue around the mushroom head. We exchanged glances as
if she was going to test my resolve, and then she rolled her eyes. She took off
her glasses and set them aside. Then she slowly lowered her head, tongue-lapping
the full length of my penis to my testicles. I felt her gently kissing and
rolling my balls in her mouth.
"Lower, Lisa," I repeated. "Go 'round the world." I slid forward a bit and
spread my legs wide. I felt her breath tickle my scrotum and then a kiss. There
was a searching flick and then the probing at my anus. She slowly drilled her
tongue into my depths.
I was totally relaxed. "Good girl!" I said
Smiling in satisfied contentment and secure power I thought about the next
two months and the promise of continued good times ahead.
The next day I had to return to Cambridge to settle up my affairs at Harvard.
While there I spent two nights at my old fraternity. Several brothers were
around for the summer and it was like a reunion. I had invited three of my old
friends to come down to the city and visit me.
On my return to New York and the penthouse I found there had been some
problems. Lisa tearfully confided to me that Ingrid had abused her in my
absence. Lisa said Ingrid had beaten her and forced her to perform oral sex.
Lisa showed me her lovely bottom, which was criss-crossed with ugly welts. I was
upset by this but uncertain of my next step. I was not sure of Ingrid's status
in this household. She seemed to come and go as she pleased and did not seem to
be in my uncle's employ. I certainly did not want to contact my uncle and appear
as if I couldn't properly handle this responsibility. But, the real fact I was
facing was that I was a bit intimidated by the German bitch myself.
I had purposefully avoided Ingrid in the past weeks. It seemed the easiest
course of action. But, on this day I showed up at the gymnasium during Lisa's
training session. I began my own workout with some weights and a jumping rope.
My presence in what Ingrid viewed as her kingdom seemed to annoy her. She seemed
particularly strident with Lisa and her screaming was shrill and unpleasant. I
was in a foul mood myself and really didn't care what she thought. I actually
took a degree of pleasure in her petty displays of displeasure.
I started using the ceiling-mounted speed bag. I kept it in a constant blur
of motion as I set a rhythm of exchanging left and right punches. I quickly
noticed that the steady slapping thudding pattern of the speed bag was getting
under Ingrid's skin. The close low ceiling would reverberate the sound until it
was nearly all encompassing. I adapted the habit of increasing my tempo and
raising the sound level when Ingrid was giving Lisa instructions.
Ingrid's mood became progressively worse. I had gotten good at adjusting my
pace to the rise and fall of her voice. She had been sternly lecturing Lisa and
was forced to raise her voice above the mounting roar of my corresponding
workout. Her voice had reached a screaming crescendo then she abruptly became
quiet. I had my back to the two and I became aware Ingrid had come up behind me.
I slowed my pounding, reached up to stop the swinging bag and turned to face
her. Her face was red with fury.
"Well hello, Ingrid," I said pleasantly. "You want to try it?" I indicated
the speed bag.
She visibly composed herself and smiled icily. "No, I am expert in other
means of combat," she answered, then added. "We should match our talents. It
would prove interesting to see who is the true master of their art."
"Well sure," I replied with a smirk. I never turned down a challenge.
"Anytime you say. Let me know."
She smiled again. Then backed away from me several steps and went into a
loose crouch, "Let us see NOW!"
I shrugged. I had boxed light heavyweight in the Golden Gloves back at
school. I was very sure I could knock her head from her shoulders with one good
right hand. I went into a classic pugilistic stance and feinted toward her. She
shifted to my side, causing me to turn to follow her, and then in a blur of
motion she twisted again, rose to her toes and kicked up between my fists to
clip my jaw. I was staggered back. In rapid succession she whirled and kicked me
twice more. The second kick caught me in the solar plexus and I dropped my
hands. The third kick was against the side of my now unprotected head. Close to
dropping I fell back against the wall.
She halted, returned to her initial stance and appeared to be measuring me up
for another attack. She was smiling in an infuriating manner. I had seen this
type of fighting before. I had an assistant coach who had been a Marine during
the War. He had served in the Pacific and had been impressed with this Japanese
style of combat. He had called it karate. During the later occupation of Japan
he had trained in the art. He had convinced me the discipline would broaden my
own fighting talents and I had done some extensive training under his tutelage.
I was no adept, but I understood the basic concepts
I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and went into a matching stance as she
approached and flowing with her motion threw out my elbow and cracked her upper
arm at the junction of her shoulder. It was her turn to reel backwards, but she
immediately rolled and came back at me. I was still dazed from the first series
of blows. In defense I did hold my own and we circled each other weaving and
probing.
The next few minutes were an intense fury of combat. It was a close match
between my strength and her speed. I realized immediately Ingrid was fighting in
deadly earnest. This was a battle for who would rule this world, with Lisa as
the prize.
I was in good condition; but found quickly my size could be a hindrance. I
was fighting her fight and I was simply a bigger target for her kicks and
chopping hands. My body ached and I was badly winded. She was cutting me down
slowly like a big tree.
I realized my last chance would have to be a ruse. Using an old trick from my
boxing days I gave her a classic opening to my jaw. She took it, jumping and in
mid air kicking her foot out. It would have broken my jaw if it connected, but I
was twisting with her. I had a clear shot at the side of her head and I hit her
with a full right-handed fist between her ear and temple.
She hit the floor rolling and came back to her feet, then crumpled to her
knees in a wall-eyed daze. I walked behind her and pushed her forward. I placed
a knee to the middle of her back resting my bulk on her, solidly pinning her to
the floor.
"I win, Ingrid, concede to me," I told her.
She squirmed beneath me, gasping under my weight. I felt her scratch my bare
upper thigh with her hand. In response I grabbed a hand of her hair and prepared
to thump her head against the floor when my leg cramped in sudden searing agony.
I yelled and doubled falling to the floor. In sickening pain I attempted to
straighten and loose the knotting muscles with my hands. The now free Ingrid
regained her feet. I looked up at her. She held out the back of her hand and I
noticed a sharp-edged ring with blood on it.
"A little memento I keep from the old days," she said. "The chemical causes a
bad muscle reaction, doesn't it?
She walked over to the rack of dumbbells and hefted one. Bringing the weight
up she calmly walked back toward me. I realized her intention at the last moment
and barely blocked her swing. The weight would have smashed my face but instead
it glanced off my forehead. I went into a black unconscious void.
When I awoke the world was all wrong and full of pain. My throbbing headache
was compounded by the fact that my head was hanging down. I attempted to move
and realized I couldn't. Reality slowly dawned and I concluded I was in a very
bad way.
I was in the punishment room secured in the same manner I had once done to
Lisa. My legs were spread wide and my rectum was thrust in the air. Frightened I
briefly struggled in my binds. My exertion only increased the pounding in my
head. Feeling nauseous I hung limp.
The clanking of the chains had alerted Ingrid and she entered my vision. She
had changed. She wore a pair of black jodhpurs and knee-high boots. She was also
topless but I was in no condition to ogle. She reached down, grabbed a handful
of my hair and jerked my head up. She crouched so we were eye to eye.
"It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of breaking an
American swine." She confided. "We shall do this in a slow manner and enjoy
ourselves."
I had no reply and she dropped my head. I heard her making sounds and I
raised my head. She had attached a belt device around her waist. An enormous
black phallus jutted from between her thighs. She smiled at me and grasped the
dildo in her fist.
"When I am done with you... you shall be as tamed and obedient as a puppy
dog," she said lightly.
She walked behind me and I threatened her, telling her my uncle would not
approve of this and she would be out of a job. She answered and said when he
returned I would be so docile that I would never tell. I felt her between my
thighs and I tried to bargain with her, telling her I had money and a car. She
said in a few days I would gladly give them to her as a gift and I felt mounting
pressure on my anus. Jerking away from the intrusion I began to whine and plead.
She thrust forward and I heard a wailing scream. For a moment I did not
recognize the sound coming from my own throat.
