Forty Thousand or Bust

Categories: Genel.

Eyl 9, 2023 // By:analsex // No Comment

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Apologies to anybody from the Indonesian island of Selaru, this is a fictional story written using feasible geographical correctness.

Forty Thousand or Bust.

The London fashion industry proved to be incredibly competitive for Lucie when facing her equally attractive rival colleagues.

On the outside, a confident party girl from Essex England but on the inside, unnecessarily paranoid about her inferiority and lack of life experience.

Because of this she’d made the decision to take a year off and go traveling so as to broaden her mind in the hope to contend with her well travelled rivals when in conversation about the world outside and experiences abroad.

In the latter stages of her backpacking world tour, she had flown from Bali on to the Indonesian island of Yamdena for a three day stop off before moving on to Australia.

Day one on her new Indonesian island had an excursion via catamarans to a paradise beach on an uninhabited island between Yamdena and Selaru known locally as ‘Pulau Nuyanat’.

Prior to the excursion, using the Wi-Fi and satellite images, she viewed this tiny island, just west of the inhabited island of ‘Pulau Anggarmasa’.

She discovered that Nuyanat was less than a mile across and realised she would be able to cross the whole island alone in twenty minutes or even circumnavigate it in less than an hour.

In the shared bedroom of the dormitory she chose her clothes for the day and packed her valuables then left the rest of her luggage in a hotel recommended locker.

This locker wasn’t an allocated one or part of the hotel, nor was she asked to leave any of her details but instead she just rented a key at a fixed price for a minimum of one week.

Guy’s heads turned and one man whistled when he saw Lucie approaching the gathering crowd of people at the shore line waiting for the same day trip.

Confidently she put on a show for them as she’d been trained for working the cat walks, exhibiting her gift of body, chest, legs, waist and ass to the group, stopping before the water line and turning to give them a second pass.

Her smile shone with both the excitement of the day ahead and from the complimentary feedback she received from her current male judges.

Head, feet, hips and swagger. Head, feet, hips and swagger she kept saying to herself over and over in her mind. Her footwork in the sand produced perfect, if not over exaggerated strutting.

This earned her a gentle cheer and a round of applause from the on-looking guys, much to the disgust of a few other girls, who even if they had the looks, wouldn’t be able to flaunt it like Lucie could.

Boarding the catamarans was supposed to be controlled by ticket but had no order as it became a free for all frenzy and Lucie knew for a fact that there were people on board who hadn’t even paid for the trip. This meant that the head count had already gone wrong before they even set sail but she didn’t care because this would make it easier for her to slope off away from the now unaccountable crowd, unnoticed when they arrived on the island.

After a playful stampede where she simply parted the crowd of boys who were barging through each other to see where she chose to sit, she lapped up the attention and pretended not to be interested when her side of the catamaran embarrassingly listed to one side, due to the initial uneven balance of her adjacent seats filling up the quickest.

Wearing tiny black satin shorts with laces on each side over her bikini bottoms, a Yellow bikini top and white plimsoll training shoes, she turned her head away, allowing the boys free to ogle at her curves undetected.

Teasing boys was her forte’ and tonight’s beach party would be a bigger hit for her if she remained unattached to anyone, she thought.

Although it would be no use to her where she was going on the island of Nuyanat, for extra security she carried her phone, passport, cash and cards in a waterproof wallet bag which she had to reluctantly wear around her waist, destroying the curvaceous look of her hips.

By her side she also carried her water, sun cream and a sun bathing towel in a plastic zip seal beach bag.

Some of the passengers jumped off the other catamarans as they approached the shore and began dragging the vestals onto the sand so that the rest of the people could jump straight onto the beach, avoiding the water.

Without drawing anymore attention to herself she quickly and quietly slipped away from the crowd, heading straight for the hill in the middle of the island, leaving the rest behind distracted by greeting the other catamarans.

The hill proved to be steeper than expected but she assumed this to be her misjudgement after only studying the island from overhead satellite views on the internet.

She walked up the baron dusty hillside towards the trees at the summit of what she mistakenly thought would be just a sandy mound. None of this was a problem for her as she knew that she would soon reach her destination of the empty beach tire escort on the other side.

None of the tourists were to know that the excursion to the tiny island of Pulau Nuyanat had been diverted to Selaru, a different and much larger nearby island.

The trip had been changed as the excursion operators had done many times before, due to the convenience of the direction of the breeze that carried them across the water.

Nobody ever noticed because the islands all look similar, with a tree lined hill above a beach, therefore doing this diversion had become a bit of the norm.

Because the trampled path she followed began leading her around and around the hillside away from the summit, once she felt confident that nobody from the rest of the group would see her, she left the trail and went in a straight line as the crow flies, heading for the hill top.

She was apprehensive about being on her own but this was after all an uninhabited island so being robbed or raped wasn’t really a threat.

The shrubbery became thicker and the grass under foot now reached ankle length but still she pressed on up the hill regardless to get as much time alone on the beach before having to head back to catch the catamarans to Yamdena.

Looking out for wildlife dangers, she headed towards the bushes in front of her.

Because of her heightened state of alert, the sights and sounds when being alone on an island like this were completely new.

Completely new that was except for one thing.

The familiar smell of Marijuana.

This is what the bushes were, right in front of her. Starting small they became bigger and thicker as they grew further into the middle.

Faced with this astonishing sight she couldn’t resist picking a few buds to share around the group at the beach party later. A stunning single girl who can work a catwalk, giving out free weed she thought. Surely this would make her the ultimate centre of attention.

Storing her find in her waterproof beach bag she again deviated, this time walking around the crops and back on to the heading towards the top of the hill.

Now back in the long grass, walking around the perimeter of the drugs farm, looking up, she decided to turn right towards the summit.



It felt as though she had hit her ankle on something like a tree stump and tripped, landing face down in the grass.

Something wasn’t quite right though. It felt like her leg was being pulled away from her.

“What the fuck?” she said out loud.

Looking at her lower leg she could see that it had been caught in a bear trap.

“AAHHH.” She shouted. “FUCK!”

Sitting down, she dragged herself towards the metal contraption attached to her ankle for a look at what the hell it was.

This wasn’t a bear trap at all. A bear trap is triggered by something pressing down in the middle causing the two sides of a toothed ring to fold up closed together under spring tension and cruelly dig in to the flesh of the animal.

This was different. It looked like a circular ring type of manacle, locked all the way around her ankle without any teeth digging in.

“What the fuck?” she expleated, examining the contraption around her leg which when looking at the locking mechanism became immediately obvious that it would require a key to remove it.

She looked for something to poke in the keyhole as she frantically tried everything to open the trap, pulling at the chain attached to a metal ring sticking out of the ground, only to find that nothing would give.

There were two other chains attached to the same ring in the ground and after her fingers brushed away the dirt, she discovered the metal ring to be anchored in concrete under the soil.

Pulling on one of the other chains, she found the same closed type of trap as she had locked around her.

The third chain had an open trap which had not yet been sprung so she cautiously inspected it without touching or disturbing it.

It was a large spring loaded bracelet, having its mechanism held open with a small wooden stick.

Further small thin wooden posts positioned perfectly in the ground raised it to the right height for capturing somebody’s ankle if the stick holding it open was kicked out of position.

Now aware of what was under foot below the grass, she looked around and discovered another set of traps just out of arms reach.

The traps had been arranged in sets of three, all with their openings facing outwards and away from each other in a triangle formation so that they would catch a person or animal approaching from almost any direction.

‘Oh my god’ she thought. What if I can’t get this thing off before the rest of the group set sail back to Yamdena? Would anybody notice a person missing from the random free for all boarding that was bound to happen on their drunken return trip.

Surely she would be noticed?

Now terrified, she stood up and began shouting at the top of her voice torbalı escort for help.

The fact that she could no longer hear the sea and hadn’t been able to hear the party on the beach for a long time told her that nobody would be able to hear her distress calls.

She could only scream and cry as she pulled and pulled hopelessly at the locking mechanism of the trap around her ankle.

She watched the hours disappear as the sun moved overhead, knowing that if she wasn’t alone on this uninhabited island now, she soon would be. She checked her phone to find exactly as she expected, no service, the only use it had now was the clock.

Time became her enemy as she sat there pulling at the manacle around her leg knowing that someone somewhere knew how to get this thing off. But who?

Five hours she spent captive, terrified and panicking until a ray of hope at last. To her surprise she could hear the sound of a dog barking in the distance. She hoped someone must have noticed her missing and this was a search party coming to rescue her. There are no wild dogs on an uninhabited paradise island she thought, so she stood up and began to shout.

“HELP!” “HELP!” she called out. “HELP ME!”

Soon the dog’s barking became louder and louder so she continued to yell out for help.

After her five hour nightmare she was overjoyed to hear voices accompanying the barking.

Two local men approached with a large dog on a lead. They certainly didn’t look like any professional search party, so who were these men, she thought? The island was supposed to be uninhabited. Although confused, it didn’t matter as she was saved.

The men raised their voices towards each other in excitement when they saw the tall, slim blonde’s ankle captured in one of their circular metal traps, held secure via a three foot chain to its concrete block, buried below the soil.

The man without the dog held a pistol in his hand.

‘Oh fuck’ she thought. Why is there a man celebrating, carrying a gun and approaching me?

‘What’s going on?’ She thought

As the armed man reached her he bent down and tugged on the chain to check the security of the trap around her leg.

He then picked up her bag and looked inside it.

“You take?” he said, holding some of the drugs in his hand.

“You take?” he repeated.

“Yes. I found it over there.” She replied pointing to the bushes. “Can you get this thing off my leg?”

“You come with us.” He told her.

“I need help getting back to Yamdena.” She explained.

“No Yamdena.” He replied “You in trouble.”

She was already scared of this man but even more so when he pulled a long, thin leather shoelace looking kind of strip from his back pocket and pointed the gun directly into her face.

“You come with us.” He said again, grabbing hold of her shoulder and forcing her to turn around.

“It’s only a little bit.” She said, trying to excuse herself. “

He holstered his gun in the front of his trousers and took hold of both her wrists, pinning them behind her back.

She felt the strip of leather being bound once around each wrist individually then came a couple of figure of eight loops crossing between them before both wrists were encircled completely by being wrapped around outside.

Finally the free ends of the leather strip were passed around the middle of the bindings, in between her wrists and tied off tightly up and out of the reach of her fingers.

This final act of tying around the bindings had the most severe effect as it tightened everything rigid, pulling her wrists in closer together, holding them securely behind her back.

This sturdy arrangement quickly hit home when she attempted to twist one of her wrists and realised how immobilised her hands were.

Surely if these guys were the police they would carry handcuffs, not leather straps, she thought.

It didn’t matter who they were though as they had taken control of her fate, giving her no choice other than do as they said.

“You in trouble lady.” said the man with the dog. “You go to prison.”

The armed man then took a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the ring from around her ankle.

She watched him reset the traps on the ground before escorting her by the elbow in the direction they had both appeared from.

“You take. You in trouble.” He repeated as he guided her down the hill, away from the plantation and away from the direction of the beach where she needed to be hours ago.

It wasn’t long before she could see smoke from a village and smelt the aroma of civilisation.

“Is this Pulau Nuyanat?” she asked, confused as to why there was a village here.

“No.” the gun man said. “Here is Selaru.”

She now realised that she was on the wrong island and that if anybody was to come looking for her they would probably be looking in the wrong place.

The village ahead began to reveal itself just as the three of them stopped momentarily so that üçyol escort the armed man could make a phone call.

The track grew wider and wider as they continued along it. She expected that she was about to be paraded in front of the villagers, heading for what she assumed would be a police station.

Word had already spread amongst the locals and villagers came to their doors to observe this new prisoner, pointing and chatting, shaking their heads in disbelief that it was a girl who had attempted to steal from their cartel.

One woman touched her own waist and pointed to the two women next to her, clearly commenting on Lucie’s slim figure.

Every one in the village knew the destiny of a woman who stole anything from their boss, Mr Taquan.

She noted that some of the buildings were brick and some were wooden shacks. There was plenty of smoke coming from chimneys where fires burned below, even though it wasn’t cold.

A strong smell of leather filled the air when they walked past a man cutting animal hides over a large table.

They stopped at one of the brick buildings with smoke coming from its chimney, where a bald man, eyes fixed on Lucie’s slim scantily dressed body, stood there smiling at her like a creep in his doorway.

A crowd began to gather behind her and the noise level became noticeable as people talked in their native tongue about the fate of this new prisoner.

The attractive captive was guided to the doorway where she stood in disgrace, dressed as a beach goer in her shorts and bikini with her hands tied behind her back. The gunman continued guiding her in through the door.

Looking inside the building and at its contents, it appeared to be a kind of workshop.

At first it looked as though the bald man had been making novelty keyrings using slightly smaller than normal, shiny airplane seatbelt buckles. That was until the bald man came in from the doorway and held one of these modified aeroplane lap strap buckles up in front of her face.

This one had a keyhole on top of it, exactly the same as the keyhole in the lock on the traps out in the plantation.

“Your seat belt is fastened.” He said putting the buckle in to the latch and laughing in her face.

She wanted to turn away because of his breath smelling so putrid but she needed to know every detail of what was happening around her and so continued to watch what he was doing.

“Adjusted.” He said rattling the buckle, smiling horribly at her, being proud of his English imitation of a flight attendant.

“And unfastened.” He said, turning a key in the top of the modified airplane seat belt catch and opening the leaver allowing him to separate the two parts.

He put them down and picked up a heavy open ring attached to a trailing six foot chain.

To her horror he approached her with the ring which was unmistakably a metal collar and held the opening in front of her face.

Her lips turned white and she froze in shock, praying he was not going to put it on her.

“This one No Unfasten.” He said, pointing to the release flap without a key hole, this time highlighting the weld marks around the modified seatbelt buckle, meaning that the buckle could not be released once inserted in to the catch, locking the ring permanently.

‘Oh my god’ she thought, now trembling all-over.

“Please don’t.” She said. “I’m sorry. I can pay you for any inconvenience.” “Please. You really don’t need to put that on me.”

It was pointless pleading but being in such a compromising position, pleading seamed to be her only option.

The armed man lifted her long straight blond hair up and away from her neck with one hand at the same time as holding her upper arm in his other hand.

She winced in fear as the bald man hinged the heavy metal collar around her slender neck, closing it shut with a confirming click.

Now frightened, she began shaking uncontrollably and almost lost control of her bladder once she felt the weight of the cold locked collar around the warm soft skin of her neck.

‘Oh my god.’ She thought. ‘Is this really happening’

“No unfasten ever.” The bald man said, with a proud horrible look on his face.

The look in her beautiful blue eyes had changed from cute, wide open and begging, to a look of daggers, screaming out how much she hated him.

He then began to redeem himself slightly by going around the back of her and removing the leather bindings, releasing her hands from behind her back.

After discretely taking measurements of her wrists using the leather strap the two men spoke before the gunman took the strap and returned it in to his back pocket.

The armed man guided her back out into the village and towards the building where leather hides were hanging outside.

A fat man greeted them with a tape measure and told her to raise her arms up, insinuating that he wanted to take her measurements.

She obliged and watched as he thoroughly measured the contours of her buttocks, hips, waist, chest and bust, followed by measuring from in between her legs to her shoulders, both at her front and back.

“You have to be prepared as Mr Taquan wishes.” He told her. “You steel from him. You now work for him.”

This sounded worrying. These people weren’t police, they were a drug cartel.

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