Gentle, golden-haired Janelle is loving her year of teaching in Japan — until a backstabbing friend frames her on false drug charges! Overnight the Aussie girl’s life becomes a nightmare. Desperate to avoid a prison sentence, she finds herself submitting to the stern discipline of wealthy businessman Kenji Kitamura. But the free-spirited Australian beauty soon finds that a life of spanking and submission is the ultimate thrill!
For proud Kenji, disciplining Janelle is a matter of honor. But so is protecting her. And when a twisted madman from Kenji’s past becomes dangerously obsessed with the captive Australian beauty, the stern and stoic man of honor finds himself taking the biggest risk of all.
"Why, Chris? Why?" Janelle rocked back and forth on the low wooden stool, hugging her bare breasts and sobbing uncontrollably. She had been stripped naked during the initial ruthless body cavity search. The harsh glare of the lights in the bare, white-tiled room made her feel exposed and vulnerable. And she was cold, chilled to the bone. The tiny interrogation room was not heated. No one had come to question her, nor had she been given any opportunity to contact anyone outside. All she could think about was Chris and the other teachers at Albion, the English language school. They all knew she was innocent. Why didn’t anyone try to help her?
Janelle’s nightmare began when her best mate Chris planted drugs in her purse. Arrested by the Japanese police, the young Australian language teacher was immediately taken to one of the infamous "substitute prisons."
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the iron doors opened. Janelle was astonished to see one of her own Japanese students enter the room, accompanied by two uniformed police.
"Kenji Kitamura? What are you doing here?" Janelle felt more confused than reassured by the sudden appearance of the austere, stern-faced businessman. He was not a close friend, or even a favorite student. Janelle liked to laugh, and Kenji rarely even smiled. At school they called him "Prince Kenji" because of his old-fashioned manners and stiff, precisely worded English. Janelle felt a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach. The man was a bit intimidating, especially when she was already naked, shivering and scared.
Kenji said something to the two police in Japanese. They both bowed deeply and left the room. "My business card was found in your purse," he said in English, speaking slowly and carefully choosing each word. "The police chose to notify me before proceeding further." Kenji paused and stripped off the neatly pressed jacket of his dark green Armani suit. As she watched him remove the expensive garment with fluid grace, Janelle wondered just what he had planned for her.
"Here, please cover yourself. The cold must be making you very uncomfortable." He handed her his jacket, the tight-fitting creases of the white dress shirt outlining a trim, hard-muscled male body. Though he never mentioned it during his private lessons, Janelle had heard from the breathless school secretary that Kenji was both a marathon runner and some sort of karate champion.
"Thank you." The dark green jacket was hardly enough to keep out the cold in the frigid prison cell.? Yet Janelle felt fresh tears welling up as she seized the jacket and desperately worked her arms into the sleeves. By buttoning every button, she was able to keep the humiliating swell of her breasts and her painfully fear-tightened nipples completely out of sight. But there was no way to hide the still more humiliating nakedness below. The police had taken every stitch of clothing, right down to her undergarments and Janelle could not conceal the tangle of gold curls between her thighs.
"Why did the police call you?" she asked, hugging her breasts and enjoying the feel of the fabric. She pressed her thighs tightly together, as if she could make the cleft between her legs invisible. "What will happen when they proceed further? I’m not a drug pusher! I didn’t even know about that marijuana cigarette inside my purse. Chris must have dropped it there when the police arrived. I never smoked marijuana before – never in my life. My friends can all testify at the trial!"
Kenji looked at the beautiful Australian girl’s golden hair, her tear-streaked face, and then down at her exposed sex. A muscle in his lean jaw twitched. Finally he looked right at her, his impassive, emotionless gaze reflected in the teary depths of her frightened brown eyes. "You do not understand. You are in great danger here. In your country, a trial automatically follows the arrest. The accused is found either innocent or guilty."
"No, you don’t understand," Janelle objected, in a weak, trembling voice. She bit her full, soft lower lip to keep it from quivering. "I have to be found innocent, because I didn’t do anything!"
"It is not that simple." The Japanese businessman paused, searching for words. "In this country, Japan, the legal system is quite different. Arrest itself is generally considered proof of guilt. The judge will pass whatever sentence the police suggest. Moreover, the police have a legal right to keep a prisoner for questioning for up to twenty-three days before trial begins, without visits or assistance of any kind. They keep the prisoner alone, in isolation, in secret jail cells known as ‘substitute prisons.’ Most prisoners quickly confess to everything." Kenji’s eyes were black, and very direct. Janelle understood what was waiting for her if she didn’t get out of prison straight away.
"But there has to be a way out of this," she sniffled. Kenji’s calm good manners frightened her much more than curses or threats. In Australia she’d never gotten into trouble. All she’d done in this country was to sneak a few quick puffs of a marijuana cigarette and have a drink with her mates. Now she was naked, locked up in jail, her teeth chattering with fear. She had to get out of here!
"There are only two ways out of this," Kenji stated. "One way is to confess at once, to admit everything and give a full statement of all your crimes. If you can name any other foreign teachers who have used drugs or brought drugs into Japan, the police may give you a much lighter sentence. They may even allow you to leave Japan."
"The only person I know for sure is Chris," Janelle said bleakly. "I thought she was my mate, my best friend. But now I’d tell on her in a minute."
Kenji nodded. "That is a good start. But one name is not enough. Can you think of more?"
"Well, everyone at school likes a puff of marijuana now and then," Janelle said uncertainly. Suddenly she stopped and glared at Kenji. "Wait just a minute! Why are you doing this, Kenji? Is this some sort of trap? Are you some sort of bloody police spy?"
The stern-faced businessman drew himself erect, seeming to withdraw into an immense private dignity. He really was quite striking in his way. His high cheekbones and sharp features were coldly elegant, and his black eyes were fascinatingly intense.
"Why did you have my business card in your purse?" he asked, after an icy silence. "Do you imagine I dropped it there as a trick? Perhaps everyone else is to blame for your problems."
Janelle blushed. She remembered Kenji handing her his card weeks ago, at the start of his lessons. It was quite common for a teacher to have to sign someone in when the school secretary was away from her desk. Kenji hadn’t planned on that, and he certainly hadn’t seen this night coming. Janelle suddenly realized what she must look like from his point of view. The police had called Kenji in the middle of the night. They called because she was in trouble, not him. He could have just hung up the phone, but instead he had come to the aid of a foreigner he barely knew. And instead of thanking him she had called him a spy, crying buckets and acting like a spoiled brat. It wasn’t the right way for an Aussie girl to behave. Australians owned up to their mistakes.
"I am very sorry for my rudeness," she said at last, speaking Japanese slowly and with trembling lips. Janelle wasn’t fluent in the language, but she had learned enough in the last few months to make a simple apology. She raised her tear-stained face, humiliated by the fresh tears welling up in her brown eyes. She blinked rapidly, scattering heavy drops from her long, dark lashes. "I am honored by your kindness, Kenji-san. Thank you for helping me. But I will not inform on foreigners for the police. Is there any other way I can be released from prison?"
* * * * *
Janelle wasn’t stupid. When she made the agreement with Kenji, she knew what she was getting into. They left the police station together late the next morning, and she assumed the wealthy businessman would take her straight back to her apartment.
Instead Kenji steered her to a small western-style restaurant near the railway station, where a smiling waitress brought coffee for the two of them and bacon and eggs for Janelle.
"It’s nice of you to treat me, Kenji," she said, pushing the food away untasted. "But I think I’ll skip breakfast. You can just take me back to my place, and then ? well, then I can thank you in private." Janelle knew she should smile, but she couldn’t. The idea of trading her body for freedom was too humiliating.
"You must eat," the slim, powerful Japanese gentleman said firmly. "You have a long journey ahead."
"A journey?" Janelle studied him with wary brown eyes. Kenji was very male. Yet he didn’t seem the type to abduct a woman. "The Albion school is just ten minutes from here. I’ll call in sick today, of course. I’m in no condition to teach after a sleepless night. But tomorrow I’m going back to work. I’ve got some bloody harsh words for Chris, but then I’m putting this whole mess behind me!"
"You do not need to call in sick," Kenji told her. "I called the main office while you were getting dressed. Your job is finished. The Albion school does not tolerate drug use. I also called your Japanese landlord. Your lease has been terminated."
"What?" She paled, not in horror but in sheer incomprehension and disbelief. "But how will I live? Where will I stay?"
"You have been released into my custody. I have a job for you, and a place to stay."
"But why on earth would you ? oh, I get it." Janelle slumped in her chair, feeling sick. Kenji might look like an old-fashioned aristocrat. He had quiet, gentlemanly manners, and a deep soothing voice. But deep down he was like all the rest. She could imagine the sort of job he had in mind.
"I said I have a job for you." Kenji’s dark eyes locked onto hers, making her sit up straight. "But if all I wanted was sex, I could have had you on the floor of the interrogation room while you were naked and defenseless. I am a man of honor, not a selfish beast. The police prefect is an old friend. He is indebted to me, and this is his way of repaying that debt."
"You mean he just gave me to you?" Janelle was outraged. But telling Kenji to bugger off would mean jail again, and this time there would be no way out and sex with Kenji seemed pleasant to years in a Japanese prison, being poked and prodded and kept naked in a cold, dark cell.
"I told him it was all a mistake," he was saying, as Janelle desperately looked for an escape. "I told him I knew you from school, and that you were not the type of young woman to use drugs, or to sell them to others. I persuaded him that if I could keep you in Kyoto for thirty days under house arrest you would be happy to leave Japan quietly, without causing trouble in the Australian press."
"Well, what am I supposed to do in Kyoto for thirty days?" The ancient city was hours away, clear on the other side of Japan.
"My grandmother runs a small, traditional Japanese inn, a ryokan. You will live there. You will cook and clean. I will not force myself on you. But you must work hard. If you are lazy, grandmother will tell me. And I will discipline you."
"You’ll do what?" Janelle simply gawked at the man, her big brown eyes glazed with fear. She felt like a kangaroo caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Kenji was so dignified, and his English was so precise and formal, that the words just didn’t register. Surely he didn’t mean ?
"It is called spanking in Australia," Kenji shrugged. "It is a common form of punishment. I will smack your bare bottom with my hand, but only if you are disobedient or lazy. I will be working in Tokyo, of course, but I will get daily reports and visit frequently. My grandmother will take good care of you. But remember, this is house arrest. You must work hard and obey."
"I don’t believe this." Janelle closed her eyes, rubbing her throbbing temples with icy fingers. She hadn’t slept, and she felt ready to drop. It was hard to think. A spanking was better than jail. Apparently Kenji didn’t even want her for sex. He just wanted a bit of unpaid labor in the kitchen. House arrest. The words reverberated inside her head like thunder, mixed with pictures of future punishment. She had to get on Kenji’s good side. What sort of woman was his grandmother, anyway? What if they didn’t get on? Having sex with Kenji ? getting it over with here and now ? would be ever so much better than having to face weeks of drudgery and the possibility of some humiliating corporal punishment.
"Kenji," Janelle said weakly, a seductive smile on her trembling lips. "Don’t you think it might be nicer if we just . . . that is, if you and I . . ." Even as she struggled to put her invitation into words, her Australian pride told her she was acting like a slut. Janelle blushed, and fell silent.
Against her will, she found herself thinking back to an Albion school party several weeks ago. No drugs or drinking at that affair. It had all been quite dignified. Even Kenji had turned up, looking ever so impressive, like a very stern headmaster. At the time Janelle had found it all quite funny, the way he asked her to dance and then never spoke once, not even when he was holding her in his arms. He was a lovely dancer, though and he had the most amazing body, lean and fit but not bulky like the weight lifters back home.
"We fit together well," he told her quietly when it was over. Janelle couldn’t manage a reply. The ache and throb of her full breasts pressing against his firm chest had embarrassed her beyond words. She dashed off with a casual wave and a shaky laugh, suddenly desperate to sneak a puff with Chris and the other girls. She hadn’t fancied Kenji then. But now she felt . . . now she wanted . . .
"Ah, here they are." Janelle snapped out of her tumbled, jumbled thoughts as Kenji beckoned to a pair of smiling young Japanese women. Both wore dark blue uniforms and smart white caps. "These two female officers will ride the train with us as far as Kyoto. The prefect insisted that we have a police escort until we are out of his jurisdiction. Then you become my responsibility."
"You mean from now on I belong to you? The Tokyo police are just going to hand me over?" Janelle gasped at the sheer enormity of it. "But that’s downright medieval! You’re not a policeman!"
"Of course not," Kenji assured her. "You will be closely monitored by the police in Kyoto. Today you will be under guard. Tomorrow morning I will take you to Kyoto police headquarters, where they will affix an ankle bracelet that will monitor your whereabouts at all times. You will be quite safe as long as you do not venture more than ten kilometers from my grandmother’s house."
"But ? but what about my clothes? And my apartment?" Janelle felt like throwing up. Reality was only just starting to hit her. "What about my life?" she asked, in a much softer voice.
"Your clothing and your personal effects have been confiscated by the police," Kenji told her. "They will be returned to you after thirty days. But do not worry. My grandmother will provide you with food and clothing, as well as a place to sleep. You will be treated well if you work hard."
"Right, I’ll be treated well. Just like in jail." Janelle felt like crying. She felt like throwing the plate of greasy bacon and eggs across the room. But it was no use. Kenji was already paying for the breakfast she hadn’t eaten. Before long the train would be carrying her off to slavery. She couldn’t do anything about it, either. All she could do was fight back her tears, try to absorb the fact that she was now completely in Kenji’s power and try not to wonder why he didn’t want her.