“I’m finally here,” I thought as I stepped off the plane.  I had finally managed to scrounge together enough money for the solo trip to Seoul I’d always wanted to take, and I’d just landed at Incheon airport.  Baggage claim and customs didn’t take long at all and soon I was on a bus to Seoul.  I’d found a great (and surprisingly affordable) hotel near Myeongdong.  I checked into my room and then decided to spend my afternoon wandering around the shopping district.  I hadn’t bought new clothes in a while and wanted to get myself something nice.  While I shopped, I got the strangest feeling of being watched, but could never spot the person who was watching me.  I shrugged it off, more than likely I was just being paranoid, I thought.  After I finished shopping I had an early dinner and went back to the hotel to sleep – jet lag would be hitting me hard tomorrow.

                “Wake up, princess,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said.  I struggled to open my eyes only to discover I was no longer in my hotel room.  I jolted awake and sat up quickly.  I was in an unfamiliar room and chained to a bed.  Granted, it was a very nice room and incredibly luxurious bed, but the obvious questions remained.  Whose bed was it and why the hell was I chained to it?  A man was sitting on the edge of the bed.  He was a rather non-descript and average-looking middle aged man.  At first guess I’d put his age somewhere between 50 and 55.  He gave off a dangerous sort of aura.

                “Did you sleep well?” he asked politely in accented English.

                “My head hurts,” I answered honestly, “but more importantly, what’s going on? Where am I and why am I chained to this bed?”

                “You’re my newest employee,” he said.  “Welcome to my gisaeng house.”

                “Gisaeng…you mean, this is a…a brothel?” I asked.  He nodded.

                “What a surprising word for a foreigner to know.  It seems I’ve chosen well.”

                “No you haven’t.  I’m married.  My husband is expecting a phone call from me today.”  His slightly bemused facial expression didn’t change, but I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. 

                “Is that so?  Well, I guess we’ll just have to deal with that once it becomes a problem.  On a different note, how do you like your new accommodations?  And wardrobe?”  I looked down only to realize I was wearing a white silk nightgown that was y but oddly al at the same time.

                “I’d much rather be back in my hotel room and wearing my own clothes,” I replied bitterly.  I tried wiggling my ankle out of the locked cuff that tethered me to the bed.  No luck.  The chain appeared long enough that I could reach the closet, the bathroom, and perhaps walk around the room a little.  It didn’t look like I’d be able to reach the door or windows though. 

                “Your first client will be arriving at four.  That’s in three hours.  Be ready.  If you’re hungry or need anything, push the button on the wall by the bed.  My brother will tend to you.”  He got up to leave, then menacingly added, “Do not tell any of your clients how you came to be here.  It will not end well if you do.”

                “Wait!  You can’t do this to me!  I have rights!  I have a family!  People will be looking for me!”

                “As I said, we’ll deal with that once it becomes an actual problem,” he said with a laugh.  “Oh, before I forget, your new name is ‘Joe’ (pronounced ‘Joowae’).  Remember it.”  I repeated it a couple times as he left the room.  I sat there thinking about my situation for a while and decided it was, at least for now, in my best interest to cooperate.  The man who’d just left my room didn’t seem like one who’d accept misbehavior easily.  After a while I was quite hungry, so I pushed the button he’d pointed out.

                “Yes, princess, what can I do for you?” a voice I hadn’t heard before asked via intercom.

                “I’m hungry, may I please have food?” I asked.

                “I believe your client has requested you dine with him later, but I can bring you a snack to tide you over.”  A few minutes later, the door opened and a man walked in carrying a tray that held a glass of water, some tea, and a plate of gimbap.  This man was probably 5-10 years younger than the other one.  He put the tray on the bedside table.

                “My hyung said you were beautiful, even though you’re a foreigner.  At first I didn’t believe him, but now I do.”  He reached out to my cheek.  It took all the willpower I had to not pull away.  He chuckled.  “Determined to be good, are you?  Thinking good performance will help your case?”

                “Will it?” I asked bluntly.

                “Probably not, but it will keep you from getting beaten.”

                “Thank you for the food…and the honesty,” I said as he turned to go.  He chuckled again as he walked out the door.   I ate the food, drank the water and tea, and walked around the room as much as I could.  Upon using the restroom I was shock to find that all my pubic hair had been removed.  I mean, I kept it neatly trimmed, but now it was just…bare.  After a while, the younger man came back for the tray.

                “Your client…he’ll be here in about 30 minutes.  He…sometimes he has strange requests, from what I’ve heard.  He can’t actually hurt you, it is against our house rules, but he might want to get a little rough.”

                “Thanks for the warning,” I said, half jokingly.

                “Anytime,” he replied with a grin.  He collected the tray and left.  Roughly 30 minutes later, the door opened and a man came in.  My eyes widened at the sight of him.  He was young and flat-out gorgeous, but what had surprised me was that I recognized him…