Honey Trap by Miss Irene Clermont

Book Details

Honey Trap (Clearmont 4) – Assigned to Korea as part of an operation that crosses the law enforcements of several countries. Charley is an American FBI agent that speaks perfect Korean and is judged to be ideal to penetrate Mrs. Tokashirimaso’s organisation of slavery with the help of the South Korean police. She is assigned a local partner, pretty and naive Ga, a naive young pusher of pens with no experience in field work. Meanwhile, there is the tale of Colin whose fate is also dependent on the criminal organisation that has now managed to penetrate the strict state of North Korea. From being a tourist who transgressed the strange laws of the land to becoming one of the first subjects in a new enterprise that will provide hard currency for the sanctioned regime, he will discover that there is more to incarceration in a prison than he could ever have guessed.

After a brief encounter with the enemy in Seoul, Charley and Ga become the guests of Mrs. Tokashirimaso and her three sadistic triplets. A palace buried in the quiet and luscious countryside, a place where utter depraved luxury and slavery are the rule, a place where dreams are made to reality for the inhabitants and and an inferno of slavery for the victims. A place where the concepts of law and equality have little meaning!

As events move on the international stage, as treachery and crime swirl, Charley starts to realise that there will be no support at all for her mission, that Ga is a vulnerability to her own safety and that an agenda that is far wider in scope than she could have ever guessed is being played out by all of the parties.

As the time becomes short, will Charley escape from the triplets and will she manage to rescue Ga? Who is a friend and who is a foe in a dangerous world where the pinnacle of female domination is being reached? A complex novel that delves deeper than the reader could ever expect, deeper into atmosphere and fear. Where pleasure and pain are commodities and where owning the perfect sex dolly is not only possible, it is almost affordable!

This is the fourth and final part of the Irene Clearmont series. Now the American-based business that Irene has bought into in ‘Dark Widow’ and fought to take control of in ‘The Second Circle Of Hell’ , moved to the international scene in ‘Rules Of Engagement’ approaches a climax!

Now we see where it eventually leads…

A word in the background from Miss Irene…

In late 1998 I started to write the novel that eventually became ‘Dark Widow’ and so breathed life into a dark substratum of the real world. A place where women rule with an iron rod and others obediently kiss the heels of their boots in abject fear. This novel, ‘Honey Trap’, closes that series. Like all three of its predecessors, it can be read stand-alone or as the final chapter of a single tale that started with an arousing fetish-murder twenty years before in ‘Dark Widow’.

In this series of four novels, you will see how my writing has matured over the years and moved me to where I am now…

F/m, F/fm, F/f, Chastity, Corporal Punishment, BDSM, Slavery, Caging, Pony & Pet Play, Medical.

Strength 10/10 – 108,000 Words

Written 2016 Re-edit 2022 

Excerpt: Honey Trap

Part One – Eastern Promises Farmed Out

Truth:
Let us spare nothing for training the young people!

Colin counted ten in front of him on the bus. Eight women and three men. Based on the length of their hair because their faces were unseen as the collars on their necks allowed no movement. His own collar chafed at his skin, but that was the least of it. His ankles were fettered, the chain between them running through a rusty heavy ring welded to the floor, his arms uncomfortable behind him under his slumped weight trapping them against the wooden slats of the seat.

Every bump of the bus caused it to rattle. Not just the heavy chains on the floor, but the axles creaked and the whole fabric of the coach was twisted by the ruts in the badly made road. He looked out at the alien passing countryside. Mean villages, peasants who bent in the flooded fields and the odd cart that had been pulled into the side to allow the bus to pass. Every now and again, the bus passed what seemed to almost be a shrine. A statue of the president and his father, a stand with faded posters with happy workers grouped around missiles and tanks. He looked up to see the sun. The same sun that shone on his small house so far away, the same sun that warmed holidaymakers on beaches, the same sun that balefully glowed and lit the nightmare that had become of his unique vacation.

A terrific bump in the road was taken at walking pace and the whole bus shuddered, some of the passengers crying out in distress as they were thrown against their hard seats. The green uniformed guard who was facing them with her hand resting on her holstered pistol smiled thinly at the distress of her charges and barked an order at the driver who struggled behind a steering wheel so large that it could have been mounted on a cart’s axle.

It was not the pistol that frightened Colin, it was the coil of the whip at her belt that had already had cause to snake across his back. Used with cold efficiency, the sting of the lash still ached where it pressed on the slats of the seat. Not the pain, it was the knowledge that she enjoyed wielding that coil of braided bull-hide, relishing the power that had been given her by the state.

Colin closed his eyes and tried to imagine other journeys that he had taken. Japan, South Africa, Bolivia and Morocco. Each more daring than the last. Each a venture deep into other cultures, to see how they lived, to experience the real life that filled those places. A bucket list of danger, thrills and a need to have been there and done that. The trip to North Korea was to be the crowning glory, a guided trip that would take in Pyongyang to the Yalu. Shrines and factories, the glories of the worker’s paradise, where peasants and labourers, scientists and artists worked for the good of all under the aegis of their glorious and illustrious leader.

Well that was the travel blurb… Colin had never passed from the capital. Spent but a single night in the dingy hotel and arrived for breakfast to find himself arrested for vandalism and subversive propaganda. Hustled away from the rest of the party, he found himself in a nightmare of English that was barely decipherable and accusations that seemed bereft of all logic. Accused of causing a photo of the president to fall from his bedroom wall. The search of his room revealing a copy of a short history of the Korean War that was obviously a tangle of seductive capitalist lies.

The trial had been short. With no representation, no access to outside help, no understanding of the laws and rules that were written in Korean in every cell. Colin barely did more than pass before a female judge who barked questions at him in Korean and then crashed the gavel on her desk and shouted orders to the guards who half carried him from the begrimed courtroom.

Thus, began the sentence. With no idea of his crime, no understanding of his fate, he had been moved from one camp to the next. Forms were filled, papers signed and marked with stamps. Files were created and then shredded, photos taken and altered. Colin sank into the morass of a penal system that was recursive in loops that flung him from one authority to the next. He spent a week in a cell, then a month in a camp where the razor wire was so high that it almost enclosed the prison in a bubble. From there he was transported to a cluster of wooden huts that seemed to be ruled by a sadistic woman who occasionally chose her partners from the enervated inmates.

Colin was never chosen. It seemed to him that he was in some way invisible to both inmates and the system itself. They fed and watered him, they gave him a bed to sleep on and a roof over his head, but he was the only westerner in each place and bereft of the language, both a victim and a valuable prize. Others were punished before the gatherings of inmates and occasionally dragged screaming to some fate that they knew, but no one ever took the trouble to explain anything to him.

It was in that camp, between the rows of the huts where the inmates were counted and stood in the sun for hours that he was chosen. It was not that he understood the words, but the way that the pretty young female guard walked between the still lines of prisoners, it was clear that she was seeking for something or someone in particular. Her boots lifted the dust at her feet, the coil of the whip in her hand and the gold stripes on her uniform proclaimed her as someone who demanded respect. The other guards stood still and stared ahead, while their superior slowly marched along the line.

And stopped before Colin. He gulped, his throat was dry and the uniformed woman looked up at his face and a thin smile spread from ear to ear. She barked an order and a guard rushed to her side with a file in his hand. Inches of photocopied paper clipped with grainy photos and the red and blue stamps of officialdom. Her small hands flicked through the file and she nodded before dropping it to the ground to make the guard who had delivered it root in the dust at her feet to gather the scattered papers. She barked an order and the guard stood straight, leaving the papers that represented Colin’s existence on the ground in a heap.

She spoke to Colin. Five months had taught Colin just three words of Korean, but this was the first time in all those months that he had heard English spoken with some clarity. ‘Subversion and vandalism. Recidivism and disrespect to the state of the People’s Republic Of Korea. Serious crimes that beg for re-education and the application of Jusche.’

Colin shrugged and it seemed to cause her to lean back a little. ‘No one cares where you are, you are just a number on a headcount. You are perfect for the research program that has been created to test the truth of our slogans!’

‘I do not understand!’ The answer seemed to infuriate the woman and she let the whip uncoil to the ground.

‘Of course you do not understand, you are nothing else than a capitalist pig who is going to learn the truth of that fact.’ She strode down the line of other inmates, the whip trailing in the dust behind her like a snake and Colin felt a lightness as a fear gripped him and he choked back the bile that filled his mouth.

Excerpt from: Honey Trap