Unwanted Attention Part 1 The Accident
- 2 years ago
- 26
- 0
An Unwanted AliasChapter 4 free porn video
I felt a fleeting sense of relief as my feet touched terra firma once again, on yet another small airport runway. That feeling faded quickly as I remembered the gravity of my current state of affairs. It appeared to be late in the morning; the sky was overcast. It was rather warm and humid, but by no means was it unbearably hot.
Before I could get too wrapped up in my new surroundings, two men grabbed me by each arm. I was roughly dragged over to a waiting automobile, which looked like an older model four-door sedan of some kind. The rear door had been left open. Before I knew it, handcuffs had been used to bind my wrists together, and I was pushed into the back seat of the car. In little more than a split second, someone tied my feet together with a length of rope. Now I was bound and helpless, lying on my side on the seat. I was tempted to put up a struggle, but quickly realized that might result in my ending up on the floor, which wouldn't have been too comfortable. The only reasonable option was to lie still, incapacitated and frightened.
Two men got into the front seats. The driver fired up the ignition and sped off. It goes without saying that I wasn't able to see outside. We made a series of turns, after which came a long stretch of relatively smooth sailing. It felt like we were on a major highway of some kind. Then, we slowed down as the driver appeared to navigate a curvy, winding road. Eventually, after about a thirty-minute drive, we came to a stop. I was released from my constraints, and ordered out of the car. A quick glance around informed me that I was in a run-down village. The street was rutted and uneven. We'd pulled up in front of a small two-story building with peeling paint and damp, rotting wooden exterior molding. Across the street was what seemed to be a large lower-class apartment building with three stories. There were a few small businesses up and down the street, with signs bearing inscriptions with Chinese characters. Yes, there was no doubt about it. I was somewhere in China.
My thoughts turned to the three women; they were nowhere in sight. It sure appeared that we'd parted ways back at the airport. And to think I hadn't had the chance to wish them good luck and godspeed.
I was directed into the ramshackle building by my two latest custodians. They motioned me into a small room on the first floor. I was surprised to see that the room was clean, with fresh white paint, although it was virtually empty. One of the men produced, of all things, an expensive camera. He instructed me to stand a few feet in front of the wall, as he snapped a few pictures of my face. Why the hell is he doing that, I wondered. It was the last thought that passed through my mind before someone placed a mask over my mouth and nose from behind. My lungs were quickly filled with ether fumes, and I was out like a light.
When I came to, I was lying on a foldaway cot in the same room. I drifted in and out of the fog of fading anesthesia for a spell, before becoming fully alert. No nurse or other aide was on hand to monitor my recovery, which was rather rude of them. I sat up on the bed, wondering with apprehension exactly what had happened to me while I was out. At the same time, I was truly amazed that I seemed to be unconfined, free to come and go as I pleased. That heady feeling lasted for just a couple of seconds. The door opened, and a man I hadn't seen before entered. "Come, American," he uttered in decidedly ill-humored English. "You follow me." With few other options, I complied. We left the building, and I noticed a car parked outside with the engine running. "Inside. Now," ordered this rather curt and demanding dude. Once again, I did as I was told. Hey, I was getting better at that! My new buddy actually handed me a bottle of cold water as a post-anesthesia means of refreshment. What a guy!
A couple of minutes later, he had us out of the old village, and into a rural area. Flat farmland lay on both sides of the road, with hills in the distance. I was quite curious as to why the handcuffs and rope had been retired. On top of that, I was permitted to gaze out the window at my surroundings as we drove. What had changed?
Soon, we were on the outskirts of a larger town. The driver pulled up in front of a good-sized office building and steered the vehicle into a parking spot. He checked in with a receptionist at the front desk, and then led me to an elevator. We traveled up to the sixth floor and walked to the very end of a narrow hallway. An elegant door made from expensive-looking wood beckoned. Following a knock on the door, a gruff voice inside produced some kind of brief intonation. The English-speaking grouch who'd driven me here opened the door for me, motioned me inside, and then split.
There in the swank, roomy, luxurious office, seated in a high-backed swivel chair in front of an opulent desk, I took in the sneering countenance of Mr. Choi.
I was thrown off my game, but only momentarily. "What do you want from me?" I snarled.
"Sit, Mr. Gustafson," directed Mr. Choi in a calm voice. I took a seat in a chair which faced him, but my steely-eyed glare told him I wasn't backing down from my question.
"We are still evaluating your situation," he muttered in a dismissive manner. He pulled out a cigarette and sparked it up. He inhaled a long drag, and blew a waft of smoke in my direction. He didn't even ask me if I minded if he lit up, I thought bemusedly.
"And the three women?" I asked, still maintaining an edge to my voice.
"They are being cared for. They are in good hands," came his reply. Which translated to, I ain't telling you shit, pal.
"So what's the story then? You flew me halfway around the planet for my own cultural enrichment? There has to be more to it than that. At the very least, I deserve an explanation."
He didn't answer right away; he was clearly trying to unnerve me. I didn't bite. He inhaled another drag from his cigarette, blowing it straight up in the air this time, before the corners of his mouth finally curled up into a treacherous simper.
"As I just told you," he said, "we are still evaluating your situation. Expect to be given minimal information in the interim. That means no bothersome questions. But there are a few concerns you need to be made aware of in order to transition into your new life."
"My new life?" I blurted out.
"First things first, my friend. Your name is no longer Jake Gustafson. You are," he snickered, pausing for effect, "Roger Benson."
As I sat there with my mouth agape, he pulled a U.S. passport from his desk drawer and opened it to the information page. My astonishment only increased when I saw my own picture, sporting the shirt I was still wearing. So that's why they snapped those pictures of me earlier! From where I was sitting, the passport looked authentic. The name at the top was, in fact, Roger Benson. The street address was in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Instinctively, I reached out to take the passport, to inspect it more closely. Mr. Choi responded by withdrawing the document with a taunting flick of his wrist. He tossed it back into the drawer, before producing another surprise. "We also have these," he declared, showing me a State of Oklahoma driver's license. It featured another very similar photo of me, the name Roger Benson, and the same Tulsa address. Then, he flashed a Social Security card belonging to the same Roger Benson. He placed both these items in the drawer as well, locking it shut. He dropped the key into his shirt pocket.
"Now, Mr. Benson," he said pointedly, "let me lay down a few ground rules. You'll be staying here for the foreseeable future. We have a job lined up for you, and a humble dwelling for you to live in. I'll explain more in a moment. But first of all, allow me to inform you that a high-tech microchip has been placed inside your body. This chip will serve a dual function. First of all, it is a highly powerful tracking device. We are able to follow your every movement. If you decide to make a run for it, you won't get very far, and the consequences will be dire. So don't try it."
It was all just too much to process. I gulped audibly, before commenting, "Well, that explains why you put me to sleep earlier."
Mr. Choi ignored the jibe and went on. "The device's second purpose is to monitor any online activity on your part. Under no circumstances are you to make any attempts to access the Internet. If you do, we will know it immediately. The technology of the device allows us to know which web sites you may have accessed, no matter where you do it, and to read the text of any emails or message board posts. It taps in to the electromagnetic radiation around your body, and it is very sensitive. Again, Mr. Benson, I can't stress this enough ... we have a zero-tolerance policy on this issue.
"You will also not be permitted to have a telephone, a television, nor any means of transportation other than your own two feet. You will find that there are food markets and apparel shops within walking distance of your apartment, and you are permitted to shop there. As a courtesy, you will find that your apartment has been stocked with enough food and clothes to last until you are able to purchase them yourself. You will be taken to and from your job by means of a shuttle.
"You will be working in agriculture, for the time being, and you will find out more on your first day of work. That will be on Monday, two days from now. You will work twelve hours a day, six a.m. to six p.m., six days a week, with Sundays off. You will –"
At that, I just had to interrupt. "Might I point out that I'm surely not permitted to work in China. And I'll bet with those hours, you're talking about a violation of labor laws. Oh, wait a minute, I get it. You guys are into human trafficking."
Mr. Choi was severely silent for a few seconds. "Mr. Benson, please don't continue to test my patience. You are being given a number of concessions that we simply don't give to ... others."
You mean I actually will have it better than those "others?" I thought.
"I can tell you that you serve an important purpose for us," he went on, "for reasons you needn't bother yourself with. But you are subject to the same rules as everyone else. You violate them at your own peril. Don't test us. Do I make myself clear?"
I nodded; I believed silence to be the best option right now. I did put forth one question. "Exactly where on the globe am I?"
Mr. Choi gave another derisive snort. Man, was this guy ever unpleasant. "You're in the People's Republic of China, but you've already figured that out. Beyond that, it's no concern of yours." That particular line was becoming more and more tiring.
Jerri
- 07.02.2023
- 15
- 0
Unwanted Attention Part 2 The Dangers of Jumping
- 1 year ago
- 21
- 0
Unwanted Part 10
- 3 years ago
- 24
- 0
