Emma wasn’t much better at hiding her enthusiasm at returning to her place of birth for the first time since the Handover.  While she had grown up in Brisbane, she still had family in Hong Kong and kept in contact with them.  She was as buoyed up as any of us.

We sat in business class – Cathay don’t have a first class – and the cabin attendants called us Miss Cheng and Miss Whiting and Miss McKinnon and the champagne started to flow.  It didn’t take too much to make us relax and go just a tad silly.  I had an empty seat next to me, while Jill and Emma sat across the aisle.  There were cool things to explore like the personal videos – movies and games, not to mention enjoying the food and drink that never seemed to stop coming. 

Yet for all this, I could not help but think of Emma’s words in the beginning, before we got caught up in the novelty of it all.  There was a brief moment when in the midst of our chatter about the future and what might be ahead of us, Emma had said:

“Look, I just want to say one thing, before we all get carried away with this.  For all the opportunities, and for all the air of civilisation and normality in Hong Kong, just remember what we are doing is on the edge of legality.  And because of that, there could be Triad involvement.”

“You don’t know that,” Monica had countered.

“No, of course I don’t.  This could be totally legitimate.  It probably is.  I just want any decisions to be made by people with their eyes open.”

That was the last we had thought about it.  The lure of the City of Light and exotic places had been too much for us, and here we were, winging our way around the world, drinking too much champagne…

*   *   *

What with the food and the champagne and the excitement I guess I must have fallen asleep.  It seemed rather easy to do.  One minute I was talking to Jill who had come over to sit next to me, then everything seemed to catch up with me and I was dreaming weird dreams of exotic Asian locations. 

I awoke slowly, rising up from the foggy depths of wherever I had been.  For a moment I didn’t know where I was, then the sounds of the aircraft got through to my brain, along with a familiar but totally unexpected sensation – a warm, fuzzy feeling from my loins.  My eyes snapped open and I became aware of several things simultaneously.

I was covered in an airline blanket, with the seatbelt done up on the outside, tightly across my lap.  I couldn’t move my hands, cradled as they were under the blanket.  I tugged at them and tried to twist them about, but they had been taped together, one resting in the other.  It also felt like my thumbs had been joined with a plastic electrical tie.  The final thing that burst upon my consciousness was the insistent buzzing of a vibrator in my pussy.  What the hell was going on?

I glanced across the aisle and saw Jill struggling to cover a smirk, while Emma, in the window seat, was curling up trying to stifle her laughter.

“Jill! What the hell are you doing?  Get over here!” I hissed.

Jill unfolded herself from the seat and sat down next to me.Gromet's Selfbondage & Mummification Plaza - 
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“What’s the matter, sweetie?” she cooed.  I felt a flush come to my cheeks.

“You know damn well what the matter is!  You did this!  Undo my hands at once!”  Jill lifted the edge of the blanket and looked underneath.  I saw my two hands wrapped in duct tape from forearm to forearm like I was wearing a thin silver muffler.  I tried to wriggle m y fingers but they were immovable.  On the outside of the tape was drawn a round bullseye target with several arrows.  Oh bollocks, I thought.  Monica was getting her own back on me.

“Monica’s orders,” said Jill with a smile.

“But how- “

“The old Bilboes Roofies Cocktail trick,” she said.

“Roofies?  You gave me a roofie?  In my champagne? You bugger!”  Rohypnol was a common tool for the Bilboes team – a knock out drug that had few side effects and was potent in alcohol.  Especially on females not too used to drinking champagne at thirty thousand feet, I thought ruefully, remembering how Jill had plied me with it over dinner.

“Okay, very funny,” I said, now somewhat less demanding.  “Monica’s made her point, then.  I’ll be good.  Now - untie me?  Oooo…”

“That nasty vibrator starting to have its effect, is it, sweetie?”

“Ohhh – yes – come on, please…”

Jill looked at her watch.  “We’ll be landing in about an hour.  I can’t undo you – I need scissors for the plastic tie.  Have to wait until we get out luggage.”

“What?  You can’t be serious!  How can I get off the plane like this?”

“Oh, we’ll work something out.  Why don’t you just sit back and enjoy your flight.  I think you’ll be able to join the five mile high club, though it’s a shame you’ll be doing it on your own.”  She grinned, flicking a wispy lock of blonde hair away from her face.  “Unless you want to ask that nice cabin attendant to help you out?”  I glared at her.  “Or I could ask him for you…?”

“Don’t you dare!”

Jill shrugged her shoulders as if offended and stood up, retreating across the aisle to where Emma was ready to wet herself, so funny did she find the situation.  So I was left to my own devices – or rather to one device in particular, buzzing away insistently in my deepest crevice, held there by my G-string.  I squirmed and contracted my muscles, trying to expel it, but it only ended up intensifying the sensations rising in waves from my loins.  I tried to get my hands down there, but I could not move them past the seat belt, and in any case, bound as they were, I was without fingers and thumbs.  How could they do this to me?

I tried to resist it the first time, but it was a losing battle.  Clamping my thighs together and doubling over, I gasped and panted until the Big O hit and I squirmed in my seat, stifling a moan and shuddering as the wave broke over me.  The blanket fell forward and Jill reappeared beside me to replace it.

“Is your friend all right?”  A concerned question from the cute Eurasian cabin attendant.

“Yes – sure.  Minor stomach cramps,” said Jill.  “She gets them sometimes on aeroplanes – something to do with the lower air pressure.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“I don’t know…  What do you think, Leila?”

I looked at him and felt myself redden as a drop of sweat rolled down my temple.  I shook my head miserably and gasped as another spasm rippled up from my pussy.  There was a muffled chortle from Emma. 

“It’s okay.  She’ll be fine,” said Jill.  The man shrugged and moved down the aisle.

“Puhleeese take it out,” I pleaded as Jill mopped my brow with the edge of the blanket.

“No way, honey.  Monica’s orders.  Em’s the witness.”

I thought we would never get there.  I climaxed three times before the landing announcement was made, each time leaving me a gasping, squirming mess.  Jillian finally took pity on me and slipped her hand between my wet thighs to turn off the vibrator.

“Aren’t you going to take it out?” I panted.

“Why?  What would I do with it then?  But I hope you don’t get body searched – that would be embarrassing!”  I blanched – the thought had not occurred to me. 

“You’ll be there with me,” I assured her.  “I’ll be pointing the blame right at you.”

“Pointing what, dear? You won’t be able to point anything until I cut you free.  Look – we’re nearly there – you can see the tower blocks!”

As the inexorable vibrations finally died, I slumped in my seat, glimpsing the distant light of apartment blocks.  I was barely aware of the touchdown.  Thank you Jill and Monica for wiping me out for something I had been looking forward to.  Mind you, the wipeout process hadn’t been without its moments, and I had joined the five-mile high club – sort of.

As we taxied to the terminal, Jillian removed the blanket and slipped my coat through my linked arms, rearranging it over the tape.  I confess I was sweating as we walked to the immigration hall, with the vibrator – now mercifully inactive – squelching inside me.  Emma handed over the three passports and we were stamped through with one-month tourist visas.  In the customs hall the other two retrieved our baggage and Jill discretely removed the tape and plastic tie from my thumbs. 

“Thank goodness,” I said.  “Now I can go to the loo and get rid of this thing inside me.”

“Sorry – family waiting,” Emma said, gripping me by the arm and propelling me towards the customs check.  Before I had a chance to protest we were in line and I knew that making a fuss was not a good idea.  Somebody was surely going to pay for this ignominy!

It seemed the whole of the Cheng clan had turned up to meet us in the brand spanking new arrivals hall.  Even before then, despite my internal predicament, I could not help being overwhelmed at the airy halls and glass walls of this huge building.  Emma was now mobbed by a dozen relatives who were introduced to us in a chatter of English and Cantonese. Then we were in the back of a swish grey Mercedes heading for the city.  Clearly Uncle Stan and Auntie Alice were not short of a buck or two.

Sitting between us, switching from Cantonese to catch up on family affairs and using English to point out the sights, Emma talked nineteen to the dozen during the ride.  I loved the singsong tones of Cantonese, although I had heard many people describe them in uncomplimentary tones usually involving strangling cats.

I only half heard what was being said.  It was gone eight pm local time, and sitting back in the leather seat I was entranced by the tall tower blocks across the water as we followed the north coast of Lantau Island.  We crossed the two spectacular bridges linking the island with the rest of Hong Kong before joining a maze of freeways canyoning between more apartments followed by glimpses of Hong Kong Island itself – a mass of stunning skyscrapers shimmering across the harbour.  I felt like a kid in a sweet shop, goggling at the wares.

We disappeared into a long tunnel, to emerge on the other side of the harbour, threading our way through congested streets to arrive outside the brightly lit Furama Hotel.  Emma helped us register and took possession of our passports to keep them safe at her uncle’s place, which was where she was staying.  I think Jill was a bit disappointed at Emma not staying with us, given the little holiday that we were about to have before our appointment with Mr Choi in two days time, but family was family, and I was sure the pair would find some time for a little recreation on the king-sized beds before our time was up.

Our rooms had stunning views – I could have sat up half the night just looking at the boats on the harbour.  After finally getting rid of the toy inside me I could relax, although I found it difficult to sleep, even though the time was nearly midnight. 

I was sitting there staring out over the water when there was a knock at the door.  It was Emma. 

“Fancy a walk?” she asked.  There was something in the way she asked that told me she wasn’t telling me everything.

“Where’s Jill?”

“Oh, she was a bit tired.  Let me show you.”  I followed her into the corridor and to the next door along.  Emma unlocked it and we entered.  The room was lit only by a nightlight and the main curtains were drawn back, revealing a figure silhouetted against the myriad of lights beyond.

“Jill?”

The figure half-turned and made a muffled sound.  Emma turned on the lights and the figure became more agitated.  Jillian was naked, sitting astride a narrow but solid coffee table.  Her ankles had been taped to the rear legs and her wrists were secured behind her back with a plastic cable tie.  Several pieces of duct tape criss-crossed her mouth.  She frowned and mmphed as the light came on, shaking her head.

“Sorry – did I say ‘tired’?  I meant ‘tied’,” Emma explained. “Improvisation is so interesting, don’t you think Jill dear?  It does make a change to see you on the end of the ropes.”

“Well well well,” I gloated.  “A traitor in the midst, huh?” I looked at Emma.  Emma simply shrugged and smiled.

“Monica’s orders were carried out,” she said to me.  “Obligations have been discharged.  Now we can have fun.”  She turned to the bound figure.  “Leila and I are going out for a bit.  We’ll let you admire the view.  We can leave the light on and see how many calls the hotel gets in the meantime - yes?”  Jillian clearly did not like this and shook her head emphatically.  I walked around the prisoner, and it was only when I got in front of her that I saw how thorough Emma had been, for there was also a large strip of duct tape over Jill’s pussy.  I bent my head and heard a faint humming.  Em had capped off the decoration with two curved hairclips that jutted out from where they were clamped on Jill’s nipples.  The clips were plastic, and had nasty little studs on the inner faces of the jaws.  I was sure they would be quite painful after a while.  Clearly it was easy to include the bondage basics in your luggage – something these two had managed to a tee.

“See you in an hour,” said Emma, while Jill bounced up and down, mmphing her frustration and protest.  “I’ll hang this on the door, shall I?”  Emma waved a “Please Make Up My Room” sign.  Jill’s eyes turned pleading and she shook her head violently again as we turned out the light and shut the door behind us.  I watched as Emma then reversed the sign to the “Do Not Disturb” message and hung it on the doorknob.

“Let’s do Hong Kong,” she said.

*   *   *

Emma’s idea of ‘doing Hong Kong’ was to spend the next half hour drinking white wine in the revolving lounge on top of the Furama, watching the extraordinary view move past our eyes.  Emma pointed out the sights and told me about the place until the wine finally had its effect and tiredness began to catch up with me.  We parted in the lift, with Emma handing me the key to Jill’s room.  I walked along the corridor and knocked on her door, announcing in what I thought was a faintly Chinese accent that this was the maid service come to make up the room.  Did I imagine a muffled protest from within? 

I opened the door and entered without turning on the light. 

“Anyone in?” I continued. “Come to make up the bed, please.”

This time there was no mistaking the stifled complaint from the silhouette in front of the window.

“Who is there?” I asked querulously.  “May I turn on light?”  More negative grunting.  I walked over to the figure and touched Jill on the shoulder, running my fingers down her naked back.  “Ohhhh…” I said in mock surprise.  Then I couldn’t keep up the pretence any longer and burst out laughing.  The truth dawned on Jill and I was treated to a burst of mmming from behind the tape.  I turned on the bedside light and squatted beside the bound figure astride the stool.  Jill was blushing furiously and not all from surprise and embarrassment at the trick I had played, either.  Beads of sweat rolled down her neck and between her breasts. Emma had positioned a towel under her prisoner, but the effect of having her legs pulled apart and back had clearly made it difficult for Jillian to get proper pressure just where she would have liked it.  I also suspect that in the hour before Emma had knocked on my door, the pair of them had satisfied their carnal desires in more orthodox fashion.  I reckoned my performance on the plane – for all its comic overtones – had made them just the smallest bit horny.

“Getting just a little frustrated, are we?” I cooed, lifting Jill’s chin to look into the big brown eyes.  She nodded.  “Wish you hadn’t been so awful to me now, don’t you?”  Another nod, and a guilty lowering of her lashes.  “But you scored with Emma, though, didn’t you.  Isn’t that enough for you?  You are such a slut, Jill Whiting.  Aren’t you?”  Nodding again.  “Would you like those horrid clips off?  You’re like a little nodding dog tonight…” Gently I squeezed the jaws apart and removed the clips.  Jill had small nipples and currently they were rosy pink and erect, with a small row of indentations down each side.

I undid the tape on her ankles but left it in place over her mouth and pussy.  Grasping her nipples I encouraged her forward along the coffee table as she whined in complaint. 

“Stop your grousing, Miss, unless you want to be watching the best view in the world all night.”  That shut her up.  I snuggled in behind her and slipped my hands around to cup her breasts.  My own nipples had hardened and pressed into the damp flesh of her back.  Jill had nice tits – not as pronounced as Emma’s but still two delicious handfuls.  I tweaked the nipples again and let my fingers slide over the wet flesh as I nibbled her ear lobe.  She arched her neck in response and I sensed her breathing start to quicken.  For all my annoyance with what she had done to me on the plane, I knew she was acting under orders and I knew she had had a very frustrating time in the last hour, so I had no reservations about giving her what she wanted.  While I remain firmly in favour of the male contribution to sex, I am not above a little variety, especially with someone as lovely as Jill.  Sometimes I even surprise myself and think I could be jealous of Emma – if she wasn’t so nice as well.

I let my hand stray down Jill’s flat stomach to where the strip of duct tape held the vibrator in place.  Jill moaned as my fingers found the hard base of the device under the tautness of the tape.  I peeled the edge of the tape back and it came away easily, slick with her juices.  I now had access to the vibrator which I positioned against her clit, supplemented with a little delicate finger massage.  Jill stiffened and began breathing rapidly.  Moments later she was uttering little ‘urh-urh-urh’ noises with each exhalation, and pushing herself against my fingers and the vibrator.  She bounced and struggled but I kept my left arm tightly around her, holding her right breast and gently kissing the right side of her neck.  Her climax came suddenly and quickly as she jerked and spasmed, grunting and panting behind the tape, before we relaxed and sat there, staring out over the fabulous Hong Kong night.

*   *   *

The next day was a whirlwind of contrasts and experiences.  Emma took us via bus (“much more fun than cable car”) to the Peak, to take in the stunning views over the harbour and Kowloon.  It was a picture I had many times seen on postcards and calendars but had never expected to view the scene first hand.  We walked along the path around the Peak, watching as the vista unfolded at every curve.  Then it was off to Stanley Market by bus along the winding southern shore of Hong Kong Island.  Stanley was touristy, a bit kitsch, and a lot of fun.  Emma assured us we would come back there before we left, for some serious shopping. 

The Emma tour in the afternoon took in a tram ride, a huge aviary and an enormous shopping centre near our hotel.  For the evening meal we scorned the hotel dining room for a white-tiled steamy local restaurant in a back street which served more delicious food than any of us could handle.  It had been a fabulous day and this time I had no trouble sleeping.  The next day the work was to begin.  Emma promised to pick us up at ten in the morning.

*   *   *

We took a taxi to Mong Kok, on the Kowloon side of the harbour.  Emma gave the taxi driver directions and got into a loud argument with him as we threaded through the pedestrian-choked streets.  The argument continued even after we had arrived, evidently to do with the route we had taken and what he was going to charge us.  Eventually honour was satisfied and Emma explained to us with a bright smile that taxi drivers had no respect for passengers, nor did they understand the concept of customer service, and that they were always dishonest and greedy and not to be trusted.

“This is a sort of red light district,” Emma explained.  “Not as openly as some other cities, but it’s the centre of a lot of illegal activities.  You see those signs?”  She pointed to some of the huge overhanging billboards and neon signs above the street.  “They advertise ‘love hotels’ and massages and other names that aren’t quite what they seem.  Everyone knows what goes on here, except perhaps the gweiloes.”

“The what?” asked Jill.

“Gweiloes – Chinese name for foreigners. ‘Gweipoes’ in the case of females. ‘Long noses’ we call you. We tend to lump you all in the same basket, since you all look the same.”  As she said this she turned away, but I could see the smirk on her face.  Jill and I looked at each other, two blonde heads in a seething sea of black hair.

We followed Emma as she located the address we had been given.  It was what I would call an undistinguished entrance – a narrow flight of stairs beyond an aluminium-framed glass door next to an electrical shop.  I followed Jill and Emma up the narrow steps with what had suddenly become an odd feeling in my gut.  All the excitement of this place had abruptly been replaced by a sense of disquiet.  We were out of our depth here, dependent on Emma in a culture and city we did not know or understand.

At the top of the stairs was a reception area where a bored middle-aged lady gestured us to sit in the shabby chairs after Emma explained the reason for our presence.  The sign on the wall behind the lady said ‘Good Fortune Video and Photography Company’ in English, with a lot of Chinese writing beneath. 

We waited for perhaps five minutes.  None of us said anything.  Emma had spoken to the lady in Cantonese and we did not know whether she spoke English.  What I had felt coming up the stairs seemed to come back stronger.  There was something not quite right about this set up. 

A man of medium height and wearing glasses emerged from the office behind reception.  I guessed he was in his late thirties, although I always had difficulty with the ages of Chinese. 

“Good morning.  I’m Edwin Kwan.”  His English had an American or Canadian twang to it, and while his manner was affable he was somehow distant.  Emma introduced us.

“Where’s Mr Choi?” she asked.

“Ah – Mr Choi works on the Island.  He does not deal with this end of the business.  He is the backing behind the business, you understand – the money.  He is the one paying for your stay here.  You are all enjoying the Furama, yes?”

“Jill and Leila are staying there – I’m staying with some family,” explained Emma.

“But it’s lovely,” Jill added.  “Please thank Mr Choi very much.”

And what do you do, Mr Kwan?” I asked.

“Call me Edwin, please.  I will be directing the video in which you ladies will be starring.  Please, come into my office.” He barked something at the receptionist. 

Edwin’s office was spartan to say the least.  There was a filing cabinet, a desk and three chairs, one of which was Edwin’s.  He wheeled it out for Emma while Jill and I took the other two.  I looked about.  There wasn’t much to see.  The walls were bare save for a cheap whiteboard and several large cartons were piled in one corner.  The light came from a dingy window which looked as if it gave into a light well.

Edwin perched on the edge of his desk.

“Let me explain how this movie will be made.  There is a plot – there always has to be, but it is not always the most original.  In this instance you two ladies are tourists who are kidnapped by Triads and forced into prostitution, but only after a fairly rigorous training.”

“You understand what we will and will not do?”  Jill asked cautiously.

Edwin pulled open the top drawer of his desk.  “I have the contract that Mr Choi signed with Miss Armstrong, which you both also signed.”  He flourished the piece of paper.  “This is correct?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We will use this as the basis.  You will be a big hit here – Chinese men like blondes – very exotic, very western.  Look at how many blonde-dyed hairs you see in the street these days.” I laughed inwardly at the grammatical oddity, picturing individual blonde hairs blowing about the streets. I can’t say I’d noticed a lot of blonde locals, but I didn’t want to put him off.  “Chinese girls are having plastic surgery to make their eyes more western.”  He was interrupted by the receptionist returning with a pot of Chinese tea which she poured into blue and white mugs with little lids on them.

“As tourists you will be filmed shopping and at a couple of tourist spots then you will be kidnapped and your training will begin.  We will use some outdoor locations and some indoor ones.  I would like to start this afternoon, if that is okay.”

“Of course,” said Jill.

“Good.  You will be collected at your hotel at 2 o’clock.”

“What should we wear?” asked Jill, ever the practical one.

“Something bright – dress or skirt.  You must stand out in a crowd and show yourselves off well.  And no bras.  We want to set the scene – give cause for kidnapping,” he said with a smirk.  “Remember – despite where you are staying – this is low budget stuff.  It is not a Hollywood movie.  Mr Choi is careful with his money, and not much comes this way for production expenses.”

*   *   *

We spent the remainder of that morning sorting through the clothes that we’d brought with us.  It was July in Hong Kong – hot and steamy.  I like the heat normally, except when the humidity was so oppressive that it makes your hair all lank.

I eventually settled on a simple flame-red sleeveless dress that stopped halfway down my thighs.  It was cool and comfortable, and everyone said that red was my colour.  I selected my favourite pair of matching boots.

“What are you wearing those for in this weather?”  Emma asked.  “Crazy foreigner!”

“I like them!” I said defensively.  “They’re very comfortable and they match, they’re bright and they show off my legs.”

Jill laughed.  “They’re very nice sweetie.  Ignore Emma – she’s just jealous that she’s not going to be a Hollywood star.”  Emma pouted.  “I hope we don’t have to do too much acting,” Jill mused.

“Not much danger of that, I should think,” said Emma, “if most of the local porn movies I’ve seen are anything to go by. You’ll probably have a gag stuffed in that pretty mouth of yours most of the time.”

“Emma, this is not a porn movie,” Jill explained with mock impatience.  “This is a bondage and discipline special feature.  And in any case, what are you doing watching porn movies, you grubby girl?”

“Vocational training,” Emma declared.  “And that looks nice.  Shows off your tits.”  She was referring to the sky blue silk blouse Jill was trying on with a pale blue skirt.

“Wish I had yours to show off,” said Jill.

“Maybe you can, tonight,” Emma murmured while I pretended not to hear.