Alexa smiled inwardly. She had made a couple of apparently cosmetic changes that would make the English more halting and less correct. She hoped they would signal any listeners who knew her that she was doing the broadcasts under duress.
“At this point,” Omori continued, “I have additional uses for you. I wish you to be involved in the new social life of Hawaii to show just how well the island’s white population is being treated. I wish you to be my escort at a number of functions that are upcoming.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Alexa said with total truthfulness. The proposal stunned her.
“You will, of course, become my mistress.”
“Absolutely not,” she snapped.
“Starting tonight. You see”-he smiled-”I understand exactly how to manipulate you.”
Omori pushed a button on his desk, and the door behind Alexa opened. Lieutenant Goto stood there with a naked young girl in his grasp. Alexa gasped as she recognized Kami Ogawa, her student. Kami looked like she was in shock. When she recognized Alexa, she moaned and cried out for help.
“Other than embarrassment,” Omori said, “the girl hasn’t been harmed. Yet. Whether she is or not is totally up to you.”
As if scripted, Goto shifted Kami so that one of his hands was free. He ran it over Kami’s young breasts and down to her almost hairless crotch. Kami tried to evade his probing finger, but Goto was too strong and she cried out in pain as he penetrated her. Goto laughed, and Alexa saw his erection straining against his uniform trousers.
“Will you release her unharmed?” Alexa asked through clenched jaws.
“Of course. You have my word of honor.”
Alexa wondered just how much honor Omori had, but, as before, she had no choice. If she did not agree, Kami would be assaulted by the pig of a lieutenant, and God only knew who else.
“All right,” she said softly.
Omori smiled and signaled Goto and Kami to leave. “You will go to my room and wait. I’ll be about an hour attending to other business. My servant’s name is Han. She will assist you, and you will do precisely what she tells you. Her English, by the way, is fairly good. She is quite intelligent and educated for a Korean.”
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.
He had maintained the original camp in the hills as a base from which his patrols crept out to keep an eye on the Japanese and recruit selectively from the local population. He had followed the primary rule of not letting each small group of volunteers know of the existence of the others. They suspected, of course, but knew nothing for certain. Only Jake knew them all. As his second in command, Hawkins knew more than the others, but not everything.
The Japanese in Hilo remained quiet. The island was just over four thousand square miles, and much of the terrain was extremely rugged. Mountains on the triangular-shaped island lifted several thousand feet into the air, and there were at least two active volcanoes, Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, along with the craters of many dormant or dead ones. The eastern side of the island was more lustily overgrown than the west, which was windswept and comparatively barren. Because it was easier to hide there, they stayed in the eastern half even though that put them dangerously close to the Japanese garrison at Hilo.
There had been no repeats of the large patrols that had captured and massacred the American prisoners. Jake estimated there wasn’t more than a battalion in Hilo along with a small detachment of kempetei. Hilo had a population of nineteen thousand, second only to Honolulu. Most of the other places on the island were hamlets of several dozen to several hundred people. Thus, it was fairly easy for Jake’s command to remain undetected.
The island of Hawaii was fertile, and there was a good deal of farming and ranching in the valleys and along the coastline. This meant they had access to food growing both wild and on farms, which had alleviated the problem of hunger for the time being. Several sympathetic landowners had begun to help Jake’s small army, and he was encouraged to note that some of these good people were of Japanese descent. Obviously, the invasion was not a unanimously popular undertaking.
The Japanese army in Hilo was more interested in overseeing the distribution of food shipped in from the
