1942

Han was a round-faced and plump young Korean in her mid-twenties. She was pleasant and seemed slightly sympathetic as she took Alexa to Omori’s room. There she handed her a large drink of fruit juice.

“Take this,” Han commanded in accented English. “It contains a medicine that will relax you.”

Alexa refused at first, but Han was insistent and she drank. After a few minutes, a feeling of languid euphoria began to envelop her and she realized that the “medicine” had been a narcotic, probably opium or morphine.

“He will undress you himself,” Han said. “Just do what he says and you will be fine. Do not even think of arguing or complaining, and please do not struggle. He will hurt you if you do, and he will continue to hurt you until you give in. And believe me,” she said grimly, “you will give in. I saw him gouge out the eyes of a woman who resisted him and then, when he was done, turn her over to his troops. Once upon a time I did not wish to give in. He made me regret that, and I no longer argue. I would die a long and terrible death if I did, and so will you.”

A while later, Omori arrived. Without preamble or comment he stood Alexa by the side of the bed, where she swayed gently. She was still fully clothed except for her shoes and socks, which Han had removed for her. Even without them she was several inches taller than Omori.

Omori unbuttoned her dress and slid it down to her ankles. Her slip followed, and then her bra and panties. Then he examined her slowly and carefully. He ran his hands over her, caressing her breasts and buttocks, and squeezing her nipples until she whimpered.

Omori was particularly fascinated by the patch of light-colored hair at the base of her stomach, which he stroked several times. She was so much more robust than a Japanese woman. They tended to be small and dainty, not strong like this one. The Koreans also tended to be larger than Japanese women, but Omori thought the Koreans were cows. There was a statuesque sensuality to this American, and she aroused him.

“You are too thin,” he said huskily, “you must eat more.”

Alexa said nothing. He laid her on her back on the bed with her head on the pillow and her legs apart. He undressed himself and, after a few additional and perfunctory caresses, mounted her and entered her. He thrust hard for a few moments, groaned, and it was over. Alexa wondered through her mental fog, Now can I go home?

No. It was just beginning. He had claimed his ownership and now intended to enjoy it.

Han had never left the room, and she brought towels, which she used to wipe them both, along with more to drink. Omori also drank and talked about things that went over Alexa’s head. The drinks contained more of the drug, and she felt herself spinning out of control but not caring. If the drug shielded her from the degradation she was enduring, then she would be thankful for it.

In an astonishingly short while, Omori was hard again and took her a second time. This time he was far more gentle and persuasive, and Alexa felt ashamed as her body betrayed her by responding to him. When he was done, Han appeared again. Now she too was naked, and she began to caress and kiss the most intimate parts of Alexa’s body until Alexa moaned in unwanted pleasure and cried out.

Then Han showed her how to return the favor. Alexa started to protest until Han hissed a sharp reminder about Omori hurting her that reached what level of consciousness still remained. She gave in, and the two women grappled on the bed in a drug-induced passion while Omori watched and laughed, his eyes glassy from the drug. Alexa wondered if she looked like that.

Finally, the two women fell back on the bed, sweat-soaked and exhausted. Through her stupor, Alexa glanced at a clock. The night was almost over. Soon, perhaps, she could go home. Omori looked at his watch. “Once more,” he commanded and sat on the edge of the bed. He forced Alexa to kneel before him and guided her face to his crotch. “But this time in a new way.”

Alexa accepted him into her mouth and began to rock back and forth as he gurgled happily. She no longer cared. There was not even the slightest thought of resistance, only acquiescence. She no longer had any worth or dignity, only shame and humiliation. She was a piece of property owned by Omori.

In a corner of her mind, she recalled Jake saying that she should do anything to survive. Omori groaned, and she tasted him. She wondered if there was anything worse that could happen to her if she was to survive.

Jake exulted silently when he received the radio signal that told him his letter to Joe Rochefort had made its way to Washington and been accepted.