Chinese Dolls

Chinese Dolls

Set in the Far East, Clare Penne brings us the sexual adventure of a conflicted European male as he is led down a path of feminization and sexual surrender by the dominant, and most times depraved, women populating his life.

The same dominant and depraved women who will ensure he becomes nothing more than the toy and plaything to one of their number.

The world of the super wealthy and sexually adventurous, described by the pen of one who knows them very well.

EXCERPT

“Boarding Gate C54, Flight BA0169 for Shanghai. Please make your way to the gate for final security checks and for boarding. Entry will be by the left-hand door for First and Club Class.”

Here I was, ready to leave and about to set out on the adventure of a life-time, well certainly for me, a move to Shanghai to take up a teaching post at the Yue-Chang International School in the city, the subjects that I would be taking gravitating towards the Arts in the sense of Chinese, English History and English, the target age of my students to be between eleven and fourteen, or Years 7 to 9.

I would also be there as a resource for any tuition and coaching in French, Spanish and Italian as well as Art and Chinese Culture.

This propensity for languages reflected my background and education, languages instilled in me at an early age by my aunt and uncle, reflecting their Foreign Office heritage and, to some extent, they were right as it was far easier to learn Cantonese and Mandarin with all their tonal levels and nuances from an early age when the brain is uncluttered with information.

I had been born in Hong Kong, a maternal aunt responsible for my childhood development, my uncle being out there as one of the Governor’s senior secretaries, my parents having been killed in a plane crash in Indonesia when I was four and having moved on in the Foreign Office to serve in Jakarta.

Consequently, I had been immersed in Cantonese and Mandarin had followed when it was discovered that I had a natural talent for learning languages. I guess that I had an advantage in my mother having been Chinese, my father having been English.

I had graduated from the Chinese International School, located out there on Braemar Hill, North Point, and had gained a place at Oxford where I read for a degree in Chinese history at the Faculty of Oriental Studies before taking up a Masters at the School of Oriental and African Studies, (SOAS) in Gender with a minor in the History of Art rather than Chinese, as my language skills excelled as to Mandarin.

From this, I had returned to complete my education in Oxford in studying for teaching and child psychology at their Postgraduate facility in Norham Gardens.

My teaching career began in Oxford at a leading prep school not far from the Education Department and I enjoyed the challenge of running my classes of ten years old through to thirteen, a fun age but a challenging one what with the onset of puberty and all that this implies for keeping hormone-fuelled children of both sexes under a semblance of control and in inspiring them to learn.

I guess that I should mention some more about my background as that underpinned the story of how I came to find myself on this flight out to China, the invitation to the job coming from the school’s Headmistress, one Madame Shu Meili Qiang, Shu meaning pure or virtuous, Meili – beautiful and graceful, and Qiang – strong or rose.

My Aunt, in particular, had had some strange ideas about the way that I was raised, no objection coming from her husband, who was probably locked up in his work and not really around to raise his dependents. It was this that likely impacted on my sexuality as I had had exposure to feminine clothing in being dressed as a girl and coming under the influence of a very dominant woman.

I had arrived as an orphan in Hong Kong, my Aunt Julia, accompanying me from Jakarta, a liveried driver picking us up at Kai Tak airport, total chaos there, the journey taking some thirty minutes to get through the Cross Harbour Tunnel.

It was only when we arrived at their house up on the Peak that I realised that I was going to share a bedroom with their youngest daughter, Penny, who was the same age as me and, as such, when at home I would be made to dress in girls’ wear.

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