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Chapter One (Part Three)
PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF JASON BELMONT
Miss Ramon and I went to the bar by the side of the swimming pool. Half a dozen or so guests were splashing about, mostly women. It was quite warm. There were tables around the pool where guests were sitting. Two slave-girls were moving hither and thither on the alert for any signal from a guest. Guests don’t like any delay in service.
“A Pernod with ice,” I said in reply to Miss Ramon’s invitation. She ordered the same. The barmaid, I saw, had large bangles, golden in colour, dangle from her nipples. This is quite a common piece of decoration for a slave-girl. She was quick and efficient in her serving. I guessed that
being a barmaid was almost a perk. Certainly better that scrubbing stone flags.
“Cheers!” I raised my glass to Miss Ramon.
She smiled.
“Enjoy your stay,” she said.
“I guess I will,” I replied. At that moment, a slave-girl came into the bar.
“Two large gins with tonic,” she ordered briskly. “And hurry please, Del.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” said the barmaid. I looked at the girl just to my left and saw it was Anna, the girl who had been sent to my room that morning... and had made an excellent fuck. I patted her bare bottom.
“So we meet again. So soon.” I grinned at her. Anna looked momentarily startled.
“Oh... Master...” she said, “I b-beg pardon... I was concentrating on my order.”
“Quite right too,” I nodded. “No guest likes to be kept waiting.” I ran my finger in the soft cleft of the girl’s buttocks and recalled how delicious she had felt earlier. It was sheer delight to be able to treat a female in this casual fashion. That’s why one came to Bianca’s really. The gin and tonics arrived and Anna hurried out, bottom swinging merrily.
“You seem on familiar terms,” said Miss Ramon.
“She brought up my tea this morning,” I said, “and, as it so happened I fucked her.”
“Not a bad judge, Jason. You know she’s only sixteen?”
“Yes, came here at f******n, I understand? Must have been quite an ordeal for her at f******n.”
“Yes, I guess so. Still, that’s the way of the world. Bianca’s world.”
“Talk of the devil, there she is.” I had caught sight of Bianca’s slender figure on the far side of the pool. She was dressed in a white gown trimmed with silver, looking as ravishing as ever. She must, I reckoned, have been nearly 40 but looked more like 30. I fancied her no end but it was pointless. She was 100% lesbian. It wasn’t any worry in view of how much cunt there was available! “Better pay my respects.”
“Sure,” said Miss Ramon. “I’ve got a few things to attend to anyway. See you around.”
“You sure will. Anything on tonight?”
“Almost certainly a ‘cabaret’ after dinner.”
“That’s fine.” A ‘cabaret’ on Bianca’s Island was a series of sex shows involving slave-girl’s, Overseers and Trainers. Quite fun, I can assure you. I circled the pool and came to Bianca’s table. I lifted her milk-white hand and kissed it. “Ahh... Jason... how nice to see you. Settling in?”
“Yes thank you. But it does take a little while to get adjusted.”
“That’s understandable.” Alongside Bianca was a woman in her forties, big-mouthed, lantern-jawed, wearing a widebrimmed hat. She was tightly corseted.
“May I introduce Mrs. Sherman-Peters,” said Bianca “Pleased to meet you,”
said the woman, extending her hand. I took in and shook it.
The voice was very American.
“Honoured,” I replied.
“Mrs. Sherman-Peters is one of my agents. One of my most accomplished agents. The woman smiled with complacent satisfaction.
“Would you like to see her latest Bill of Ladies?”
Doubtless I looked puzzled. “A new assignment she has just brought me. Ten delicious girls. Half of them American, the rest European.”
“Amazing,” I said. And I meant it. What an organisation Bianca had! One with cast-iron security. A sheet of paper slid across the table. I looked down and saw a list of names and details attached. It was rather like a catalogue at a picture auction.
“Bianca,” I asked, may I enquire how much you payoff these women?”
The eyebrows of both went up.
“Well,” said Bianca, “you may not really. But I’ll tell you all the same. They go from 10,000 dollars upwards, according to age, looks and background. A really good specimen can make 50,000 or more. But they are worth it.”
Bianca smiled sadistically. “They earn their keep. As you know Jason, my fees are high.”
“Yes, I know that all right,” I sighed. Not that I minded. I had plenty of money. It was to be used for enjoyment. I looked down and studied the list. “Excuse me a moment.”
“Of course,” said Bianca. I studied the list.
It read as follows:
BARBARA, 18, American. At secretarial college in Chicago.Features rather plain but a superb body. Shows signs of having a stubborn disposition.
MAISIE, 16, American. a*****ed from her school in Delaware. A frisky girl very mature for her years. Possibly a virgin.
JENNIE, 21, American. Secretary to a company Chairman. Also his Mistress. The whole body is good but the breasts are superb.
LARA, 22, American. Made her living in computers, but, if she had used her arse, would have made a lot more. A really fantastic rear.
HANNAH, 16, American. A black servant-girl who, I am sure, with proper training, will turn into one of the most exciting sex-objects ever.
DEBBIE, 17, English. a*****ed from boarding school. Very prim and proper and should give a lot of pleasure to many.Body still in the budding stage.
CAROLINE, 22, English. City worker, well connected. Haughty-arrogant. Big tits, big bottom. Suggest she has a black Trainer.
KIRSTEN, 18, Danish. A real beauty. Blonde, superb looks and figure. Will be very popular, I am sure.
MARTHA, 22, German. A hefty girl. She will be very much sought after by those who want quantity rather than quality.
GISELLE, 19, French. Superb aquiline features; a body which has not yet fully developed. Fiery in temperament.
“A nice little collection,” I said, putting down the sheetof paper.
“Yes, I guess so.” Mrs. Sherman-Peters was looking as smug as smug.
“While you’re here, you might see some of them undergoing their initial training.
“That could be fun,” I said. I thought in particular of Debbie. ‘Very prim and proper’, it had said. Yes, that could be quite amusing.
“Do you have any problems in acquiringthese women?” I asked Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
“One has to be very circumspect and patient,” she answered.
“But I manage.”
“I congratulate you.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” At this moment Mrs. Sherman-Peters pressed a small knob on her wrist-watch. I wondered why. Then, some thirty seconds later, an astonishing apparition approached our table. I, naturally, had expected a woman but soon realised it was a man. A kind of man, anyway. He was of medium height and had been shaven of all body hair. His hair itself, eyebrows, chest, belly. Everywhere. His penis was encased in an obviously heavy iron tube. This ‘thing’ fell to its knees and bowed his head to the ground.
“This is my personal slave,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters, casually.
“I hope he doesn’t offend you?”
“I must confess, I don’t much care for the look of him,” I laughed.
“I’m not surprised. He is quite disgusting. Still, he has his uses.”
I realised I was looking at the complete antithesis of myself. Here was a male under complete domination, incapable of any sexual activity. Whereas I was free as a bird and able to fuck virtually everything that came my way. An incredible contrast.
“Present,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
The creature swivelled himself around and I then saw that his testicles were held at the top of the scrotum by a tight iron ring. Those testicles were the brightest red imaginable. From her handbag, Mrs. Sherman Peters took an aerosol and sprayed the testicles with a pale pink liquid. The
creature gasped and winced.
“Very powerful liniment,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
“Stings like crazy.” There was a shuddering moan from the creature.
“So much for the ozone layer,” laughed Bianca. I joined in.
“He gets a dose about every two hours,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
“Keeps him well stimulated, I guess. Not, as you can see, he can do anything about that.”
“Never?” I queried.
“Never,” Mrs. Sherman-Peters informed me. “He is quite, quite celibate.”
I must confess I felt a momentary stab of sympathy. How could a man get himself into such a situation?
It was all rather fascinating.
“Back to work,” snapped Mrs. Sherman-Peters. The creature sprang to his feet and scuttled away. My God, what an existence! Bianca snapped her fingers and a slave-girl was at her side within seconds. The girl was quivering. Doubtless simply being in the presence of the supreme Mistress was nerve-racking in itself.
“A bottle of Champagne,” said Bianca. “No, make it a Magnum. Jason is a rare visitor.” Bare bottom bouncing, the slave-girl hurried away.
Thus, by the pool, sheltered from the sun by a colourful umbrella, we whiled away a pleasant hour before lunch. Naked slave-girls flitted to and fro, about their duties, breasts and buttocks bouncing delightfully. They made a most pleasant background to the scene, symbolising the gulf between
those with power and those completely without it. Total domination... and utter submission. How fortunate I am, I reflected, thinking momentarily about Mrs. Sherman-Peters’ creature.
“What’s your slave doing, Martha?” I enquired. We were, by then, on first name terms. She shrugged.
“No idea. I simply handed him over to an Overseer and told her to make him work his guts out.”
“I am sure she will,” laughed Bianca. “Makes a change for a girl to have a male to deal with. Makes her even more vicious, I guess.”
“Probably,” agreed Martha. “I sometimes wonder how long he’ll last. Still, when he does go, I can always get another one.”
“Of course...”
It was difficult for me to adjust to two women talking in this way. Their air of authority and their supreme confidence in their ability to capture and control other human beings was disconcerting. They were power mad.
At last Bianca rose.
“I’m going to take a shower before lunch,” she announced.
“Good idea,” said Martha. I stood and gave a little bow as the ladies left. Best to be respectful to one’s host, I thought. Then I gave the slave-girl who was attending to the Magnum, a stinging slap across her bottom. No need to be the slightest bit respectful to her!
“Fill up my glass, girl,” I snapped.
“Yes, Master... at once Master...” The pale golden liquid ran and bubbled. Two ample-round breasts joggled softly just a couple of fact away from me. The girl had very long, blonde hair, and an altogether excellent figure. Her flesh was a delicate honey colour. Yes, I liked the look of her.
“What’s your name, slave?”
“Birgit, Master.”
“That’s a Danish name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Master. Its English equivalent is Brigit.”
“From Copenhagen, are you?”
Lids fell momentarily over startling blue eyes. Obviously going back to her former life was a painful experience.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. I wondered idly what she would have been doing at that moment if she hadn’t been caught in Bianca’s net. She looked rather like a photographic model. I decided then that, most probably, I would send for her later in the afternoon. My hand waved dismissively
and Birgit stepped back. She would be keenly attentive,ready to serve again on the instant.
Ten minutes later I left the table and made my way to the dining room. There a delicious lobster and more wine made me feel sleepy. I headed for my apartment, took a lukewarm shower then lay down naked on the bed. Soon I was blissfully in dreamland.
I suppose I slept for an hour or more and, when I awoke, I had a whacking great hard on. How fortunate there were so many available beauties to deal with it! I decided to stick with my earlier choice, Birgit... and rang down to Room Service.
“Yes, Sir?” A woman’s voice.
“There’s a slave by the name of Birgit, long blonde hair...Is she available?”
“I’ll check, Sir.” A pause. “Yes...she’s in her cell at the moment.”
“Send her up, will you?”
“Certainly, Sir.” I put down the receiver and couldn’t help smiling. It was all so casual. Like ordering a pot of tea. Yet a vibrant, young female creature was on her way up to me and I could make her do more or less anything I wanted.
A delicious sense of power and a surge of lust went through me. There shortly came a knock on my door and I told the girl to enter.
Her blue eyes flickered momentarily on my erection then he was down on the floor at the end of my bed, nose to floor, bottom high, thighs wide. It was the obligatory posture on entering a guest’s room and it gave me an excellent view of all her charms in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the facing wall. There was, incidentally, another mirror over the bed.
“I quite fancy you, Birgit,” I said.
“Thank you, Master,” came a muffled response. “I hope I can please you.”
“Oh I’m sure you will. But, first, a few questions. Come up onto the bed.” Birgit stood and slid alongside me on the soft coverlet. I fondled her excellent breasts gently. She thrust them at me all the more invitingly and I felt the nipples beginning to firm a little. Then, with my fingers I
explored the mound and sex-lips. Again gently. And again she proffered herself all the more invitingly. Obviously well trained.
“How long have you been a slave, Birgit?” I asked. She thought for a little while.
“A-About... eight months, Master... maybe nine...”
“Not long. Still, I expect it seems a long time to you.” She briefly bit a pouting lower lip.
“Yes, Master.” As by the pool-side, her voice dropped to a whisper and I felt her give a little shudder.
“How long have you been fully trained, girl?”
“Some six months, Master.” Another shudder. It was obviously painful to go back in time. Better to live from day to day. But I enjoyed opening old wounds.
“So you were trained for two months. Perhaps a little more?”
“Y-Yes, M-Master...” Those blue eyes, now looking a little more despairing, gazed at me imploringly, as if begging me to ask no more questions.
“Is that a normal length of time for training a slave?”
“I... I think so, Master. S-Some train more quickly than others. Little more than a month. Some take as long as four months.”
“Just depends how stubborn a girl is, I suppose,” I said and squeezed one of the breasts quite hard. She gave a tiny gasp. Then, rather to my surprise, I saw a single tear roll down her honey-coloured cheek. That, I knew, was not caused by my squeezing her breasts but by the memories I was arousing.
“Were you stubborn, Birgit?”
“A-At... f-first... yes, Master... it... it is natural to resist...” There was a sob in her voice.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” I nodded. “But going over the Punishment Block at too frequent intervals softens resistance, eh?”
Birgit’s breasts began heaving up and down with the force of her emotions and two more tears ran down her cheeks.
“YYes...oh yes... Master...” she agreed.
“Are you often punished now?”
“No, Master, not often.”
“When were you last punished?” She thought...
“About ten days ago, Master.”
“What was that for slave?”
“A lady guest had a Complaint. She did not think I was ‘enthusiastic’ enough.”
“Ahhh... I believe quite a few lady guests are inclined to do that. Even when their complaint is not fully justified.”
“Y-Yes, Master,” she nodded miserably. It certainly was a tough lire!
“What was your punishment, slave?”
“A caning, Master. Eighteen strokes.”
“Which rod?” It was nice to go on probing.
“I... I can’t quite remember, Master. Number 3, I think.”
That was the lightest of three rods used, but an unpleasantly painful instrument all the same.
“Turn over girl.” Birgit turned and I stroked her soft bottom. It humped up nicely and it would have humped up even more so over the Block. She was, of course, quite unmarked. Bianca’s fantastic Healing Treatment worked with miraculous speed. It had to, in view of what was handed out with daily regularity on the Island!
„I shan’t have you punished,” I said.
“Tha-Thank you, Master...”
“Unless you displease me, of course. And I don’t think you’ll do that.”
“Oh no, Master.”
There was a genuine earnestness in her voice, as if to say that to displease was something unthinkable. I fingered her anus.
“Do you often get bum-fucked, slave?”
“N-Not very often, Master...”
“Do you like it?”
“No, Master.”
“Then you are fortunate I am not that way inclined. A nice hot juicy cunt is good enough for me. And I’m sure you can produce that.”
“Yes, Master.”
I still had that whacking hard on. “You can begin, my pretty, by sucking my prick. Very, very gently.”
“Yes, Master.” Birgit stirred and slid over my thighs, positioning herself. I patted her blonde tresses.
“On second thoughts, you can begin by licking my prick. And my balls. All over.”
“Yes, Master.”
I lay back relaxed, clasping my hands behind my head. The tiny, flickering tongue-tip titillated me deliciously. It ran up and down, it lingered on the sensitivity of my knob. Birgit knew what she was doing. After about five minutes, she turned her attention to my balls and gave them a thorough
going over, kissing as well as licking. If I hadn’t known otherwise, I could have thought she was truly enjoying doing it. There was a sort of passion to her ministrations. There had to be, of course. This kind of simulation was built in during training. Even if a girl did not achieve orgasm, she had to pretend she did. And make it good.
I looked up at the ceiling mirror, seeing Birgit kneeling between my parted thighs, her head right down, her bottom up. It curves superbly. I had chosen well. Then, at long last, I tapped her head.
“OK, give it a rest,” I ordered. She would have gone on and on, until utterly exhausted, unless I had checked her. Birgit remained kneeling there, mouth pressed lightly to my scrotum, with me trying to get some
control of my lust. I did not want to go off too soon. What to do? I wanted to fuck this delicious Danish pastry but I guessed, if I had her sucking me, I wouldn’t be able to hold back. Best, I decided, to take it in two stages. Have her suck me now and, after a rest, I’d fuck her later. And be
able to fuck her longer and stronger as I would be partially slaked.
Yes, that was the best plan.
“Very well, slave, you can now suck me,” I said.
“Thank you, Master,” responded Birgit at once. I wondered, all those months ago now, how many thrashings it had taken to make her suck a cock. Now she was giving thanks!
Birgit pushed herself up a little so that her mouth came to the top of my hard prick. Her breasts dangled and I clasped them. My knob went into her warm-wet mouth. At first, just the knob. She sucked vigorously, like a greedy c***d with a folly. Her eyes closed; she was very intent on her task. One delicate hand gripped the roof of my prick, steadying it
for her.
“I’m going to spunk down your gullet, slave,” I said with deliberate crudity. Birgit nodded, eyes opening, as she acknowledged my intention. Then she took more of my prick into her delicious mouth and, continuing to suck, her head bobbed up and down as well. She managed to get half my
length into her before it got to the back of her throat. I am quite well made. The head bobbed faster and faster; the mouth worked with furious abandon. She was giving it everything. As she must. Her eyes closed again; her nostrils were flaring and she was breathing heavily down them. The
one desire in her slave-soul at that moment was to please me fully.
And that she was certainly doing!
How long could I hold out? Not much longer, surely. But what did it matter? I had all the time I wanted to go round again. And again and again, if need be. The thought roused my lust even higher. The divine sensation was creeping up on me. Birgit seemed to realise it and worked even more frantically. Faster... faster...
The veins in my thighs... my balls... seemed suddenly to be filling with hot wine.
“Ohhhhh... God... dear God...” I groaned, twisting from side to side as I mounted swiftly to a climax. Birgit managed to hang on to me, mouth still
yammering away. Up... up... up...I was going to shoot. Nothing could stop me. Nothing! My thighs and belly quaked and shivered. The hot wine seemed to turn to jelly. My haunches worked uncontrollably up and down.
Then I was spunking and spunking... up into that delicious, sucking mouth. Crying out at the divine release. And my lovely slave was going on sucking. And sucking. Draining me dry. I moaned, as I rolled from side to side.
Then it was over. And I was weak and slumped. Completely... but completely...slaked.
This girl had just given me one of the best blow jobs I had ever had. I patted her head as a sign of my approval. But I was not going to spell it out in words. Slaves don’t get praise. Only punishment for failure.
Birgit remained where she was, my flaccid prick clasped softly in her mouth, bottom still up high. Certainly a slave well and truly trained.
I allowed myself to sink into a delicious doze. Birgit still had my prick in her mouth when I awoke. Naturally. For she had no order to remove her mouth. Now she got it.
“That will do,” I said. She took away her mouth...and I realised I had started to swell again. Good. It would soon be time for further action. How should I enjoy this young beauty? With her on top of me? Me on top of her? Or, perhaps, from the rear? Well, I’d had Anna on top of me this morning,
so I might as well have a change. When a girl had an arse like Birgit’s, from the rear had a positive appeal. So I finally decided on that.
“Time you got a good solid fucking, I think, slave.”
“Thank you, Master,” she replied, features expressionless.
“Do you like fucking?”
“Yes... Master...”
Was that the truth? Impossible to tell, for she would have to say that anyway. Perhaps, since she got so much of it, she had grown to like being fucked by strangers. It was like what they say about ****. If it is unavoidable, lie back and enjoy it.
“Turn around and kneel facing the mirror.”
“Yes, Master.” She turned. Oh that lovely bottom. My prick was hardening fast.
“I want you looking into the mirror. Watching me riding you.”
“Yes, Master.” Oh the delicious submissiveness of the girl. one almost felt that, even if you had told her to fly, she would have sprouted wings and circled the bedroom! She parted her thighs invitingly. There was that young cunt, so soft looking, the lips pouting prettily. I took hold of her warm flanks.
“You’ve got all the right equipment,” I said thickly as my knob touched her sex-lips. She made no answer but moaned softly. Was that in pleasurable anticipation or in apprehension? No matter, I was going to enjoy the whole thing anyway. I thrust into her, hard and fast. Fully. She gasped, head jerking up. Then she wriggled a little. Delightfully. As if savouring my solidity. Oh it felt very good!
I found her surprisingly warm and receptive. At that time I was not to know that slave-girls had to titillate themselves whenever possible whilst waiting to please a guest. That’s what Birgit must have been doing whilst I dozed. Good girl!
Slowly but surely, I fucked her. A full thrust every time. Right to the hilt. She kept on wriggling beautifully whenever my length was right in her. Looking into the mirror, I saw her blue eyes bright, her full lips a little parted. She really did seem to be enjoying ill. But could she really be? After all she was being ****d by a stranger. On the other hand, I didn’t like to think it was all pretence. I wanted to conquer her with my cock. Increasing the pace, I increased my pleasure. She was becoming truly hot and squelchy. Also, she was beginning to pant; her haunches jerking convulsively. It seemed to me I had got her going. Delightful!
“M-Master... o-ohhh... M-Master...” she was whimpering, “you aaaghhhh... so... strong... ooooh... w-wonderful... ohhhh M-Master... I truly am your slave!”
Was it true?
I sincerely hoped it was!
Birgit began to get even more agitated. If this was simulated, it was wonderful acting. But I began to get the impression it wasn’t simulated. Those blue eyes were glazing, her mouth began to sag and gape. There was salivaoozing out of her lips.
“O-O-Ohhhh... M-Master... I... I’m... going to c-come...yes... ohhh... yessssss... oooooh... Master... may I come?”
“You may, slave,” I said, beginning to fuck her faster and faster. She felt superb. Liquid velvet in rippling action. A bottom squirming in ecstasy. I was hard put to it to keep control of myself, yet managed it. I was mastering her completely. That was my main pleasure.
“N-Now... NOWWWWWWWWWW!” - she cried out. And then was convulsed in writhing and jerking as she spent herself violently. There was no doubt in my mind that she had achieved a genuine orgasm. Most satisfying.
I continued to fuck her relentlessly, but slowing a little at first to allow her to recover. Also to get a better grip on myself. She felt so delicious I was constantly tempted to release myself but I hung on, hearing my self also panting now. Hearing myself groan with pleasure. What a little
beauty! What a body! What a hot cunt! What a superb fuck!
“Y-Your s-slave... your s-slave....” she was moaning. “Oooooh... oooohhhh... fuck me... fuck me... fuck me...”
As if I were not doing just that!
Then I knew the moment had come. There were limits to my endurance. I worked up to a furious pace and, within less than a minute I came to the boil. Birgit was crying out joyfully as I shot and shot into her. We were a writhing mass of joined flesh. Exultant flesh. We slumped down on the bed, panting like runners at the end of the race. She was twitching; my thighs were trembling. It had been a superb fuck. For both of us. Of that I was sure. Nothing was said for a long while. I found I was dribbling
on her shoulder. She was breathing deeply, eyes closed.
“You really do like fucking, don’t you slave?” I said at last.
Birgit sighed.
“Only when I am fucked by a marvellous Master like you,” she said.
I was well content by her answer. She might be a slave, but she was a woman too. A little later, I ordered a bottle of Champagne to be sent up. This we shared, she a little nervous at this privilege.
I smiled at her and patted her.
“I wish I could be your personal slave for ever,” said Birgit suddenly.
Most gratifying.
“Ahhhh... do you indeed. I’m afraid that is not possible. There are commitments....”
“Of course, Master. I understand. I was just wishing.”
I fondled her lovely breasts. She seemed to preen herself like a cat being stroked.
“Birgit,” I said, “I am going to write a note to your Chief Overseer. I shall tell her what an excellent slave you are. That you have given every
possible satisfaction. That I have found no fault whatever in you.”
Birgit’s blue eyes glowed.
“Oh... oh... thank you, Master. That is most kind.”
“That’s all right.” I knew that such a note from any guest was highly prized by any slave. It could well ameliorate future punishments. I patted her soft bottom.
“I think you can run along now.”
“I... I have to be fetched, Master,” she said, lowering her eyelids.
“Oh yes... of course.” I lifted the phone and rang Room Service.
“You can take this slave from my room now,” I said.
“Very good, Sir,” said the woman’s voice. “I’ll arrange it right away. Any complaints?”
“None at all,” I answered, putting down the receiver. I turned to Birgit, again fondling her breasts.
“I think I shall send for you again before I leave,” I said.
She actually smiled. It seemed a genuine smile.
“Oh thank you, Master! I am honoured. And so pleased!” Believe me, it really did sound genuine. Then, perhaps it was.Better to be fucked by me than used by some vindictive butch lesbian, I reckoned. A short while later, a male Overseer arrived and put a collar around Birgit’s neck and led her off. She gave me another smile as she left.
Frankly, I felt almost sorry for her.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF JASON BELMONT
Miss Ramon and I went to the bar by the side of the swimming pool. Half a dozen or so guests were splashing about, mostly women. It was quite warm. There were tables around the pool where guests were sitting. Two slave-girls were moving hither and thither on the alert for any signal from a guest. Guests don’t like any delay in service.
“A Pernod with ice,” I said in reply to Miss Ramon’s invitation. She ordered the same. The barmaid, I saw, had large bangles, golden in colour, dangle from her nipples. This is quite a common piece of decoration for a slave-girl. She was quick and efficient in her serving. I guessed that
being a barmaid was almost a perk. Certainly better that scrubbing stone flags.
“Cheers!” I raised my glass to Miss Ramon.
She smiled.
“Enjoy your stay,” she said.
“I guess I will,” I replied. At that moment, a slave-girl came into the bar.
“Two large gins with tonic,” she ordered briskly. “And hurry please, Del.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” said the barmaid. I looked at the girl just to my left and saw it was Anna, the girl who had been sent to my room that morning... and had made an excellent fuck. I patted her bare bottom.
“So we meet again. So soon.” I grinned at her. Anna looked momentarily startled.
“Oh... Master...” she said, “I b-beg pardon... I was concentrating on my order.”
“Quite right too,” I nodded. “No guest likes to be kept waiting.” I ran my finger in the soft cleft of the girl’s buttocks and recalled how delicious she had felt earlier. It was sheer delight to be able to treat a female in this casual fashion. That’s why one came to Bianca’s really. The gin and tonics arrived and Anna hurried out, bottom swinging merrily.
“You seem on familiar terms,” said Miss Ramon.
“She brought up my tea this morning,” I said, “and, as it so happened I fucked her.”
“Not a bad judge, Jason. You know she’s only sixteen?”
“Yes, came here at f******n, I understand? Must have been quite an ordeal for her at f******n.”
“Yes, I guess so. Still, that’s the way of the world. Bianca’s world.”
“Talk of the devil, there she is.” I had caught sight of Bianca’s slender figure on the far side of the pool. She was dressed in a white gown trimmed with silver, looking as ravishing as ever. She must, I reckoned, have been nearly 40 but looked more like 30. I fancied her no end but it was pointless. She was 100% lesbian. It wasn’t any worry in view of how much cunt there was available! “Better pay my respects.”
“Sure,” said Miss Ramon. “I’ve got a few things to attend to anyway. See you around.”
“You sure will. Anything on tonight?”
“Almost certainly a ‘cabaret’ after dinner.”
“That’s fine.” A ‘cabaret’ on Bianca’s Island was a series of sex shows involving slave-girl’s, Overseers and Trainers. Quite fun, I can assure you. I circled the pool and came to Bianca’s table. I lifted her milk-white hand and kissed it. “Ahh... Jason... how nice to see you. Settling in?”
“Yes thank you. But it does take a little while to get adjusted.”
“That’s understandable.” Alongside Bianca was a woman in her forties, big-mouthed, lantern-jawed, wearing a widebrimmed hat. She was tightly corseted.
“May I introduce Mrs. Sherman-Peters,” said Bianca “Pleased to meet you,”
said the woman, extending her hand. I took in and shook it.
The voice was very American.
“Honoured,” I replied.
“Mrs. Sherman-Peters is one of my agents. One of my most accomplished agents. The woman smiled with complacent satisfaction.
“Would you like to see her latest Bill of Ladies?”
Doubtless I looked puzzled. “A new assignment she has just brought me. Ten delicious girls. Half of them American, the rest European.”
“Amazing,” I said. And I meant it. What an organisation Bianca had! One with cast-iron security. A sheet of paper slid across the table. I looked down and saw a list of names and details attached. It was rather like a catalogue at a picture auction.
“Bianca,” I asked, may I enquire how much you payoff these women?”
The eyebrows of both went up.
“Well,” said Bianca, “you may not really. But I’ll tell you all the same. They go from 10,000 dollars upwards, according to age, looks and background. A really good specimen can make 50,000 or more. But they are worth it.”
Bianca smiled sadistically. “They earn their keep. As you know Jason, my fees are high.”
“Yes, I know that all right,” I sighed. Not that I minded. I had plenty of money. It was to be used for enjoyment. I looked down and studied the list. “Excuse me a moment.”
“Of course,” said Bianca. I studied the list.
It read as follows:
BARBARA, 18, American. At secretarial college in Chicago.Features rather plain but a superb body. Shows signs of having a stubborn disposition.
MAISIE, 16, American. a*****ed from her school in Delaware. A frisky girl very mature for her years. Possibly a virgin.
JENNIE, 21, American. Secretary to a company Chairman. Also his Mistress. The whole body is good but the breasts are superb.
LARA, 22, American. Made her living in computers, but, if she had used her arse, would have made a lot more. A really fantastic rear.
HANNAH, 16, American. A black servant-girl who, I am sure, with proper training, will turn into one of the most exciting sex-objects ever.
DEBBIE, 17, English. a*****ed from boarding school. Very prim and proper and should give a lot of pleasure to many.Body still in the budding stage.
CAROLINE, 22, English. City worker, well connected. Haughty-arrogant. Big tits, big bottom. Suggest she has a black Trainer.
KIRSTEN, 18, Danish. A real beauty. Blonde, superb looks and figure. Will be very popular, I am sure.
MARTHA, 22, German. A hefty girl. She will be very much sought after by those who want quantity rather than quality.
GISELLE, 19, French. Superb aquiline features; a body which has not yet fully developed. Fiery in temperament.
“A nice little collection,” I said, putting down the sheetof paper.
“Yes, I guess so.” Mrs. Sherman-Peters was looking as smug as smug.
“While you’re here, you might see some of them undergoing their initial training.
“That could be fun,” I said. I thought in particular of Debbie. ‘Very prim and proper’, it had said. Yes, that could be quite amusing.
“Do you have any problems in acquiringthese women?” I asked Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
“One has to be very circumspect and patient,” she answered.
“But I manage.”
“I congratulate you.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” At this moment Mrs. Sherman-Peters pressed a small knob on her wrist-watch. I wondered why. Then, some thirty seconds later, an astonishing apparition approached our table. I, naturally, had expected a woman but soon realised it was a man. A kind of man, anyway. He was of medium height and had been shaven of all body hair. His hair itself, eyebrows, chest, belly. Everywhere. His penis was encased in an obviously heavy iron tube. This ‘thing’ fell to its knees and bowed his head to the ground.
“This is my personal slave,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters, casually.
“I hope he doesn’t offend you?”
“I must confess, I don’t much care for the look of him,” I laughed.
“I’m not surprised. He is quite disgusting. Still, he has his uses.”
I realised I was looking at the complete antithesis of myself. Here was a male under complete domination, incapable of any sexual activity. Whereas I was free as a bird and able to fuck virtually everything that came my way. An incredible contrast.
“Present,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
The creature swivelled himself around and I then saw that his testicles were held at the top of the scrotum by a tight iron ring. Those testicles were the brightest red imaginable. From her handbag, Mrs. Sherman Peters took an aerosol and sprayed the testicles with a pale pink liquid. The
creature gasped and winced.
“Very powerful liniment,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
“Stings like crazy.” There was a shuddering moan from the creature.
“So much for the ozone layer,” laughed Bianca. I joined in.
“He gets a dose about every two hours,” said Mrs. Sherman-Peters.
“Keeps him well stimulated, I guess. Not, as you can see, he can do anything about that.”
“Never?” I queried.
“Never,” Mrs. Sherman-Peters informed me. “He is quite, quite celibate.”
I must confess I felt a momentary stab of sympathy. How could a man get himself into such a situation?
It was all rather fascinating.
“Back to work,” snapped Mrs. Sherman-Peters. The creature sprang to his feet and scuttled away. My God, what an existence! Bianca snapped her fingers and a slave-girl was at her side within seconds. The girl was quivering. Doubtless simply being in the presence of the supreme Mistress was nerve-racking in itself.
“A bottle of Champagne,” said Bianca. “No, make it a Magnum. Jason is a rare visitor.” Bare bottom bouncing, the slave-girl hurried away.
Thus, by the pool, sheltered from the sun by a colourful umbrella, we whiled away a pleasant hour before lunch. Naked slave-girls flitted to and fro, about their duties, breasts and buttocks bouncing delightfully. They made a most pleasant background to the scene, symbolising the gulf between
those with power and those completely without it. Total domination... and utter submission. How fortunate I am, I reflected, thinking momentarily about Mrs. Sherman-Peters’ creature.
“What’s your slave doing, Martha?” I enquired. We were, by then, on first name terms. She shrugged.
“No idea. I simply handed him over to an Overseer and told her to make him work his guts out.”
“I am sure she will,” laughed Bianca. “Makes a change for a girl to have a male to deal with. Makes her even more vicious, I guess.”
“Probably,” agreed Martha. “I sometimes wonder how long he’ll last. Still, when he does go, I can always get another one.”
“Of course...”
It was difficult for me to adjust to two women talking in this way. Their air of authority and their supreme confidence in their ability to capture and control other human beings was disconcerting. They were power mad.
At last Bianca rose.
“I’m going to take a shower before lunch,” she announced.
“Good idea,” said Martha. I stood and gave a little bow as the ladies left. Best to be respectful to one’s host, I thought. Then I gave the slave-girl who was attending to the Magnum, a stinging slap across her bottom. No need to be the slightest bit respectful to her!
“Fill up my glass, girl,” I snapped.
“Yes, Master... at once Master...” The pale golden liquid ran and bubbled. Two ample-round breasts joggled softly just a couple of fact away from me. The girl had very long, blonde hair, and an altogether excellent figure. Her flesh was a delicate honey colour. Yes, I liked the look of her.
“What’s your name, slave?”
“Birgit, Master.”
“That’s a Danish name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Master. Its English equivalent is Brigit.”
“From Copenhagen, are you?”
Lids fell momentarily over startling blue eyes. Obviously going back to her former life was a painful experience.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. I wondered idly what she would have been doing at that moment if she hadn’t been caught in Bianca’s net. She looked rather like a photographic model. I decided then that, most probably, I would send for her later in the afternoon. My hand waved dismissively
and Birgit stepped back. She would be keenly attentive,ready to serve again on the instant.
Ten minutes later I left the table and made my way to the dining room. There a delicious lobster and more wine made me feel sleepy. I headed for my apartment, took a lukewarm shower then lay down naked on the bed. Soon I was blissfully in dreamland.
I suppose I slept for an hour or more and, when I awoke, I had a whacking great hard on. How fortunate there were so many available beauties to deal with it! I decided to stick with my earlier choice, Birgit... and rang down to Room Service.
“Yes, Sir?” A woman’s voice.
“There’s a slave by the name of Birgit, long blonde hair...Is she available?”
“I’ll check, Sir.” A pause. “Yes...she’s in her cell at the moment.”
“Send her up, will you?”
“Certainly, Sir.” I put down the receiver and couldn’t help smiling. It was all so casual. Like ordering a pot of tea. Yet a vibrant, young female creature was on her way up to me and I could make her do more or less anything I wanted.
A delicious sense of power and a surge of lust went through me. There shortly came a knock on my door and I told the girl to enter.
Her blue eyes flickered momentarily on my erection then he was down on the floor at the end of my bed, nose to floor, bottom high, thighs wide. It was the obligatory posture on entering a guest’s room and it gave me an excellent view of all her charms in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the facing wall. There was, incidentally, another mirror over the bed.
“I quite fancy you, Birgit,” I said.
“Thank you, Master,” came a muffled response. “I hope I can please you.”
“Oh I’m sure you will. But, first, a few questions. Come up onto the bed.” Birgit stood and slid alongside me on the soft coverlet. I fondled her excellent breasts gently. She thrust them at me all the more invitingly and I felt the nipples beginning to firm a little. Then, with my fingers I
explored the mound and sex-lips. Again gently. And again she proffered herself all the more invitingly. Obviously well trained.
“How long have you been a slave, Birgit?” I asked. She thought for a little while.
“A-About... eight months, Master... maybe nine...”
“Not long. Still, I expect it seems a long time to you.” She briefly bit a pouting lower lip.
“Yes, Master.” As by the pool-side, her voice dropped to a whisper and I felt her give a little shudder.
“How long have you been fully trained, girl?”
“Some six months, Master.” Another shudder. It was obviously painful to go back in time. Better to live from day to day. But I enjoyed opening old wounds.
“So you were trained for two months. Perhaps a little more?”
“Y-Yes, M-Master...” Those blue eyes, now looking a little more despairing, gazed at me imploringly, as if begging me to ask no more questions.
“Is that a normal length of time for training a slave?”
“I... I think so, Master. S-Some train more quickly than others. Little more than a month. Some take as long as four months.”
“Just depends how stubborn a girl is, I suppose,” I said and squeezed one of the breasts quite hard. She gave a tiny gasp. Then, rather to my surprise, I saw a single tear roll down her honey-coloured cheek. That, I knew, was not caused by my squeezing her breasts but by the memories I was arousing.
“Were you stubborn, Birgit?”
“A-At... f-first... yes, Master... it... it is natural to resist...” There was a sob in her voice.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” I nodded. “But going over the Punishment Block at too frequent intervals softens resistance, eh?”
Birgit’s breasts began heaving up and down with the force of her emotions and two more tears ran down her cheeks.
“YYes...oh yes... Master...” she agreed.
“Are you often punished now?”
“No, Master, not often.”
“When were you last punished?” She thought...
“About ten days ago, Master.”
“What was that for slave?”
“A lady guest had a Complaint. She did not think I was ‘enthusiastic’ enough.”
“Ahhh... I believe quite a few lady guests are inclined to do that. Even when their complaint is not fully justified.”
“Y-Yes, Master,” she nodded miserably. It certainly was a tough lire!
“What was your punishment, slave?”
“A caning, Master. Eighteen strokes.”
“Which rod?” It was nice to go on probing.
“I... I can’t quite remember, Master. Number 3, I think.”
That was the lightest of three rods used, but an unpleasantly painful instrument all the same.
“Turn over girl.” Birgit turned and I stroked her soft bottom. It humped up nicely and it would have humped up even more so over the Block. She was, of course, quite unmarked. Bianca’s fantastic Healing Treatment worked with miraculous speed. It had to, in view of what was handed out with daily regularity on the Island!
„I shan’t have you punished,” I said.
“Tha-Thank you, Master...”
“Unless you displease me, of course. And I don’t think you’ll do that.”
“Oh no, Master.”
There was a genuine earnestness in her voice, as if to say that to displease was something unthinkable. I fingered her anus.
“Do you often get bum-fucked, slave?”
“N-Not very often, Master...”
“Do you like it?”
“No, Master.”
“Then you are fortunate I am not that way inclined. A nice hot juicy cunt is good enough for me. And I’m sure you can produce that.”
“Yes, Master.”
I still had that whacking hard on. “You can begin, my pretty, by sucking my prick. Very, very gently.”
“Yes, Master.” Birgit stirred and slid over my thighs, positioning herself. I patted her blonde tresses.
“On second thoughts, you can begin by licking my prick. And my balls. All over.”
“Yes, Master.”
I lay back relaxed, clasping my hands behind my head. The tiny, flickering tongue-tip titillated me deliciously. It ran up and down, it lingered on the sensitivity of my knob. Birgit knew what she was doing. After about five minutes, she turned her attention to my balls and gave them a thorough
going over, kissing as well as licking. If I hadn’t known otherwise, I could have thought she was truly enjoying doing it. There was a sort of passion to her ministrations. There had to be, of course. This kind of simulation was built in during training. Even if a girl did not achieve orgasm, she had to pretend she did. And make it good.
I looked up at the ceiling mirror, seeing Birgit kneeling between my parted thighs, her head right down, her bottom up. It curves superbly. I had chosen well. Then, at long last, I tapped her head.
“OK, give it a rest,” I ordered. She would have gone on and on, until utterly exhausted, unless I had checked her. Birgit remained kneeling there, mouth pressed lightly to my scrotum, with me trying to get some
control of my lust. I did not want to go off too soon. What to do? I wanted to fuck this delicious Danish pastry but I guessed, if I had her sucking me, I wouldn’t be able to hold back. Best, I decided, to take it in two stages. Have her suck me now and, after a rest, I’d fuck her later. And be
able to fuck her longer and stronger as I would be partially slaked.
Yes, that was the best plan.
“Very well, slave, you can now suck me,” I said.
“Thank you, Master,” responded Birgit at once. I wondered, all those months ago now, how many thrashings it had taken to make her suck a cock. Now she was giving thanks!
Birgit pushed herself up a little so that her mouth came to the top of my hard prick. Her breasts dangled and I clasped them. My knob went into her warm-wet mouth. At first, just the knob. She sucked vigorously, like a greedy c***d with a folly. Her eyes closed; she was very intent on her task. One delicate hand gripped the roof of my prick, steadying it
for her.
“I’m going to spunk down your gullet, slave,” I said with deliberate crudity. Birgit nodded, eyes opening, as she acknowledged my intention. Then she took more of my prick into her delicious mouth and, continuing to suck, her head bobbed up and down as well. She managed to get half my
length into her before it got to the back of her throat. I am quite well made. The head bobbed faster and faster; the mouth worked with furious abandon. She was giving it everything. As she must. Her eyes closed again; her nostrils were flaring and she was breathing heavily down them. The
one desire in her slave-soul at that moment was to please me fully.
And that she was certainly doing!
How long could I hold out? Not much longer, surely. But what did it matter? I had all the time I wanted to go round again. And again and again, if need be. The thought roused my lust even higher. The divine sensation was creeping up on me. Birgit seemed to realise it and worked even more frantically. Faster... faster...
The veins in my thighs... my balls... seemed suddenly to be filling with hot wine.
“Ohhhhh... God... dear God...” I groaned, twisting from side to side as I mounted swiftly to a climax. Birgit managed to hang on to me, mouth still
yammering away. Up... up... up...I was going to shoot. Nothing could stop me. Nothing! My thighs and belly quaked and shivered. The hot wine seemed to turn to jelly. My haunches worked uncontrollably up and down.
Then I was spunking and spunking... up into that delicious, sucking mouth. Crying out at the divine release. And my lovely slave was going on sucking. And sucking. Draining me dry. I moaned, as I rolled from side to side.
Then it was over. And I was weak and slumped. Completely... but completely...slaked.
This girl had just given me one of the best blow jobs I had ever had. I patted her head as a sign of my approval. But I was not going to spell it out in words. Slaves don’t get praise. Only punishment for failure.
Birgit remained where she was, my flaccid prick clasped softly in her mouth, bottom still up high. Certainly a slave well and truly trained.
I allowed myself to sink into a delicious doze. Birgit still had my prick in her mouth when I awoke. Naturally. For she had no order to remove her mouth. Now she got it.
“That will do,” I said. She took away her mouth...and I realised I had started to swell again. Good. It would soon be time for further action. How should I enjoy this young beauty? With her on top of me? Me on top of her? Or, perhaps, from the rear? Well, I’d had Anna on top of me this morning,
so I might as well have a change. When a girl had an arse like Birgit’s, from the rear had a positive appeal. So I finally decided on that.
“Time you got a good solid fucking, I think, slave.”
“Thank you, Master,” she replied, features expressionless.
“Do you like fucking?”
“Yes... Master...”
Was that the truth? Impossible to tell, for she would have to say that anyway. Perhaps, since she got so much of it, she had grown to like being fucked by strangers. It was like what they say about ****. If it is unavoidable, lie back and enjoy it.
“Turn around and kneel facing the mirror.”
“Yes, Master.” She turned. Oh that lovely bottom. My prick was hardening fast.
“I want you looking into the mirror. Watching me riding you.”
“Yes, Master.” Oh the delicious submissiveness of the girl. one almost felt that, even if you had told her to fly, she would have sprouted wings and circled the bedroom! She parted her thighs invitingly. There was that young cunt, so soft looking, the lips pouting prettily. I took hold of her warm flanks.
“You’ve got all the right equipment,” I said thickly as my knob touched her sex-lips. She made no answer but moaned softly. Was that in pleasurable anticipation or in apprehension? No matter, I was going to enjoy the whole thing anyway. I thrust into her, hard and fast. Fully. She gasped, head jerking up. Then she wriggled a little. Delightfully. As if savouring my solidity. Oh it felt very good!
I found her surprisingly warm and receptive. At that time I was not to know that slave-girls had to titillate themselves whenever possible whilst waiting to please a guest. That’s what Birgit must have been doing whilst I dozed. Good girl!
Slowly but surely, I fucked her. A full thrust every time. Right to the hilt. She kept on wriggling beautifully whenever my length was right in her. Looking into the mirror, I saw her blue eyes bright, her full lips a little parted. She really did seem to be enjoying ill. But could she really be? After all she was being ****d by a stranger. On the other hand, I didn’t like to think it was all pretence. I wanted to conquer her with my cock. Increasing the pace, I increased my pleasure. She was becoming truly hot and squelchy. Also, she was beginning to pant; her haunches jerking convulsively. It seemed to me I had got her going. Delightful!
“M-Master... o-ohhh... M-Master...” she was whimpering, “you aaaghhhh... so... strong... ooooh... w-wonderful... ohhhh M-Master... I truly am your slave!”
Was it true?
I sincerely hoped it was!
Birgit began to get even more agitated. If this was simulated, it was wonderful acting. But I began to get the impression it wasn’t simulated. Those blue eyes were glazing, her mouth began to sag and gape. There was salivaoozing out of her lips.
“O-O-Ohhhh... M-Master... I... I’m... going to c-come...yes... ohhh... yessssss... oooooh... Master... may I come?”
“You may, slave,” I said, beginning to fuck her faster and faster. She felt superb. Liquid velvet in rippling action. A bottom squirming in ecstasy. I was hard put to it to keep control of myself, yet managed it. I was mastering her completely. That was my main pleasure.
“N-Now... NOWWWWWWWWWW!” - she cried out. And then was convulsed in writhing and jerking as she spent herself violently. There was no doubt in my mind that she had achieved a genuine orgasm. Most satisfying.
I continued to fuck her relentlessly, but slowing a little at first to allow her to recover. Also to get a better grip on myself. She felt so delicious I was constantly tempted to release myself but I hung on, hearing my self also panting now. Hearing myself groan with pleasure. What a little
beauty! What a body! What a hot cunt! What a superb fuck!
“Y-Your s-slave... your s-slave....” she was moaning. “Oooooh... oooohhhh... fuck me... fuck me... fuck me...”
As if I were not doing just that!
Then I knew the moment had come. There were limits to my endurance. I worked up to a furious pace and, within less than a minute I came to the boil. Birgit was crying out joyfully as I shot and shot into her. We were a writhing mass of joined flesh. Exultant flesh. We slumped down on the bed, panting like runners at the end of the race. She was twitching; my thighs were trembling. It had been a superb fuck. For both of us. Of that I was sure. Nothing was said for a long while. I found I was dribbling
on her shoulder. She was breathing deeply, eyes closed.
“You really do like fucking, don’t you slave?” I said at last.
Birgit sighed.
“Only when I am fucked by a marvellous Master like you,” she said.
I was well content by her answer. She might be a slave, but she was a woman too. A little later, I ordered a bottle of Champagne to be sent up. This we shared, she a little nervous at this privilege.
I smiled at her and patted her.
“I wish I could be your personal slave for ever,” said Birgit suddenly.
Most gratifying.
“Ahhhh... do you indeed. I’m afraid that is not possible. There are commitments....”
“Of course, Master. I understand. I was just wishing.”
I fondled her lovely breasts. She seemed to preen herself like a cat being stroked.
“Birgit,” I said, “I am going to write a note to your Chief Overseer. I shall tell her what an excellent slave you are. That you have given every
possible satisfaction. That I have found no fault whatever in you.”
Birgit’s blue eyes glowed.
“Oh... oh... thank you, Master. That is most kind.”
“That’s all right.” I knew that such a note from any guest was highly prized by any slave. It could well ameliorate future punishments. I patted her soft bottom.
“I think you can run along now.”
“I... I have to be fetched, Master,” she said, lowering her eyelids.
“Oh yes... of course.” I lifted the phone and rang Room Service.
“You can take this slave from my room now,” I said.
“Very good, Sir,” said the woman’s voice. “I’ll arrange it right away. Any complaints?”
“None at all,” I answered, putting down the receiver. I turned to Birgit, again fondling her breasts.
“I think I shall send for you again before I leave,” I said.
She actually smiled. It seemed a genuine smile.
“Oh thank you, Master! I am honoured. And so pleased!” Believe me, it really did sound genuine. Then, perhaps it was.Better to be fucked by me than used by some vindictive butch lesbian, I reckoned. A short while later, a male Overseer arrived and put a collar around Birgit’s neck and led her off. She gave me another smile as she left.
Frankly, I felt almost sorry for her.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Kierra
- 18.09.2021
- 12
- 0
