Chapter One (Part One)
PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF JASON BELMONT
I had rung down for morning tea and lay relaxed in the broad, soft bed. It was unlikely I would have to wait long. Service was good on Bianca’s Island. Understandably!
Though its real name is, I think, Kaikos Island, I always think of it as Bianca’s Island, for she owns it and rules it. Perhaps two miles square, it is a dot in the Pacific Ocean. But a most interesting dot. It contains her vast mansion, in which I was resident, and a number of smaller villas, allocated
to guests who prefer more privacy. There is also, of course, the large slave quarters which can house up to fifty or so girls. I had been a guest of Bianca’s a couple of times before and now, after a hard business year, was looking forward to a few weeks of relaxation. There was a knock on my door.
“Enter,” I called.
The door opened and a pretty young woman entered. Like all slaves on Bianca’s Island she was naked and depilated and wore a gold ring through her nose and each of her nipples. She had shortest blonde hair and, I saw at once, excellent
firm, high breasts, beautifully rounded, with pink nipples. She advanced to the bedside and bowed. Then she placed the tray on the bedside table.
“Pour.” I ordered. I studied her as she did so. For one so obviously young, she did not appear particularly nervous.
“Name, girl?” I enquired as I picked up my cup.
“Anna, Master.” She replied in a soft voice.
‘Master’! How agreeable it was to hear that form of address
from a young woman again.
“How old are you, Anna?”
“Sixteen, Master.” I was a little surprised she was as young as that on account of the maturity of her figure. On the other hand, her face was that of a sixteen-year-old.
“How long have you been a slave Anna?”
“Nearly two years, Master.”
Again I was surprised. It was amazing to think she had been but f******n when she had undergone her initial training in domestic and sexual servitude. Quite some ordeal for one so young. She stood almost demurely, pale blue eyes resigned and, I supposed, despairing. “Nationality?” Iasked.
“English, Master,” she replied. She might still be at school, I thought. Attending classes, wearing a gym-slip and blue serge knickers. Not likely to get the cane at such a school, I reflected, whereas, al Bianca’s she was very
liable to get it for the slightest fault. I had seen quite a deal of Bianca’s disciplinary methods. She was quite merciless.
I put down my cup. “Come closer,” I bade her. She came to the side of the bed and I cupped and fondled her breasts. Far from recoiling, she proffered them more boldly. Despite her age, she was obviously a well-trained and experienced
slave. Lowering one hand, I ran a finger between her pouting sex-lips. Again, she did not recoil but thrust her smooth young cunt up invitingly.
“Have you been fucked today, Anna?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she replied calmly. Oh what a world this was! Bianca’s world. Where you could toy with naked teenagers as you wished... knowing you could do as you liked with her... sure she would be submissive and co-operative. Quite
a difference to the ordinary world, now full of self-willed, aggressive women, wanting everything there own way.
“I think I might fuck you, Anna,” I announced.
“Thank you, Master,” she said. Still calm, seemingly unmoved. I could only suppose that, by now, she was quite used to being fucked by completely strange men. It was something a slave-girl had to accept.
I pushed back the blankets. “You will suck me first, girl.” Already I was partially in erection. Not exactlysurprising.
“Yes, Master. I am honoured, Master.” Honoured indeed! Anna came onto the end of my bed and between my parted thighs. I had a glorious view of her hindquarters and other charms in the large mirror on the wall behind the end of my bed. There was another mirror in the ceiling. Anna parted her thighs and I had an even better view of what was waiting for me. She put about a quarter of my thickening organ into her mouth and began to suck gently. At the same time, her tongue flickered. Only sixteen, I kept thinking, and such expertise. I wondered idly how much she had to suffer to achieve such a level of skill. What a lovely bottom was displayed to me! Superbly rounded.How often, I thought, it must have writhed in agony under rod and lash.
Doubtless it still did on occasions. It bore no marks at that moment. In arty event, even if the girl had been thrashed a day or so previously, Bianca’s miraculous Healing Ointment would have restored the skin to a pristine state.
I had become bone hard. Relaxing, looked in the ceiling mirror. A smooth, straight back, a swelling bottom. Oh this was the life! A lovely sucking followed by a lovely fucking.
I took hold of her blonde hair and pulled her off. It was getting just too good. Her lips were parted and wet. She was breathing faster.
“Get that up you, slave,” I ordered.
“Yes, Master.” She came higher up on me, thighs straddling wide. Her rounded breasts bounced softly in front of my face. I fondled the gold rings. What must it be like for a girl to be ringed in that fashion? The very essence of degradation. Her cunt lips ran to and fro over my throbbing knob. This youngster knew what she was doing. I placed my hands gently on her soft, warm bottom. Then, with a low sigh, she sank slowly down. Down... down... until her mound
was pressing hard to me. Then she gave a series of convulsive wriggles.
There was both a tightness and a warm lubricate about her. Slowly she began to undulate up and down. She would go up slowly until her sex-lips were just gripping my knob. Then she would lunge down faster, wriggling as she did so.
“You’re a lovely fuck, Anna,” I said after a couple of minutes of this delicious treatment.
“Thank you, Master,” she responded, almost politely, it seemed. “I am honoured.”
It was the sort of thing a slave-girl had to say but, honoured or not, she was doing a superb job. “Faster,” I ordered, giving her bottom a little slap. I did not think I could hold out much longer.
“Yes, Master.” She began to raise and lower herself faster. I could hear her panting now. Was she getting aroused? Quite a number of slave-girls do get aroused whether they want to or not. Simply a matter of nature.
“Faster, girl... faster...” I urged.
“Yes... aaah... yes, Master...”
“Work that lovely ass of yours...”
“Yes... yes, Master...”
She was really going hammer and tongs now and felt superb. I knew I couldn’t last more than half a minute. Then the divine sensation swept over me and, gasping, I was shooting and shooting up into her. At the same time, I heard her
crying out in her own orgasm. Most satisfactory. She slumped down on me and thought I heard her sobbing. In relief? In pleasure? I know not, nor cared, I had been utterly slaked.
Slowly the beating of my heart subsided. She still lay there, breathing more softly now, quiescent. Awaiting my orders. Not a bad way to start one’s stay at Bianca’s I thought. To have a delightful sixteen-year-old to ride you
into the ground. I parted her bottom.
“Off,” I said. She raised her haunches and I left her;then she slid off the bed and stood submissively. This is
how it should always be, I reflected. No aggressiveness, no recriminations from one’s partner. I twisted to one side and opened the drawer of the bedside table. I took out a pad and pencil and I scribbled a note. “Give this to your overseer,” I said. And I saw her eyes light.
“Oh... oh thank you, Master!” she said, sinking to her knees and gratitude. “Thank you...thank you!”
I couldn’t help smiling. For, on the pad I had written: “Anna makes a very good fuck. Please bear that in mind when she is next being considered for punishment.” It was certainly remarkable that any sixteen-year-old should be so delighted to get such a message. But then, Bianca’s was a remarkable world.
“You may go, girl.”
“Thank you... oh thank you, Master...” Anna bowed yet again and scuttled from the room. Quite a little darling, I
thought. I would have her again before long. When, having let off more steam, I would be able to hold on much longer. It would be nice to fuck that little beauty for a good half hour or so. Time to get up, I supposed. Not that I had to, of course. But it would be nice to take a wander around and see if Bianca had made any changes. Also, to see Bianca herself.
I picked up the House Phone. “Send up a slave,” I ordered.
“Yes, Sir. Is there any particular one you wanted?”
“No... no... anyone will do.” What marvellous Room Service, I reflected. You-wouldn’t get it anywhere else in the world. I got out of bed and wandered about naked. The feel of young Anna was still with me and I felt most relaxed. There came a knock on the door.
The door opened and a mature looking woman, who I guessed to be in her mid thirties, entered. She had light brown hair, greenish eyes and somewhat aristocratic features. She bowed. Her breasts were big and, on that account, hung rather lower than Anna’s. She might have been described as buxom. She also seemed far more nervous that Anna had done, averting her eyes from me, and, I guessed, though a lot older, she was a less experienced slave.
“Turn on the shower,” I said. “Medium temperature. Get ready to soap me.”
“Yes, Master.” She went quickly into the adjoining bathroom. I followed at my leisure. She was waiting for me,
tense, soap in hand.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“A strange name. What was it originally?”
“Lavinia, Master,” she answered.
“Haahhh...” I said. “A bit too up-market for a slave, that.” I saw a cheek twitch. I had touched her on a sore spot. I stepped under the shower. “Soap me,” I ordered. She began on my chest. I fondled her breasts and she shuddered.
“What is your full name?” I asked.
“Lavinia... Montesque,” she answered. I kept on fondling her nice big boobs. “The Honourable Lavinia Montesque,” she added... and a great sob choked her. Well, well, I thought, here we have a piece of the English
Aristocracy really brought down in the world. How nice to contemplate. The Honourable Lavinia Montesque, eh?
“Quite a change of lifestyle,” I said, grinning. Another big sob shook her. She was soaping my belly. Soon she would be down to my cock. Nice.
“How old are you Lavinia?”
“Thirty four, Master,” she answered, taking hold of my cock and soaping it gently. My balls as well. Rather a
humble task for one so high-born!
“Might have been Lady of the Manor then?” I said.
“Y-yes...M-master....” A choking sound and a big tear rolled down one cheek.
“What are you snivelling about, girl? You should feel honour to serve me!” All slave-girls are called girl, whatever their age.
“Do you want a cane across your backside?”
“No...ahh no, Master... please... please...” She began to tremble more violently. She wiped the tear away and began to tremble even more. A woman definitely under stress. Not altogether surprising in view of her background. I wondered idly how Bianca managed to pick up such prizes.
“Have you been fucked today, Lavinia?” It was a question I always like to ask a slave-girl.
“M-My Overseer, Master.”
“Is he white or black, Lavinia?” I knew Bianca had whites, half-castes and blacks in the slave quarters.
“B-Black, Master,” she answered. I grinned, then turned off the shower and stepped out.
“Dry me,” I ordered.
“Do you like a nice big black cock up you, Lavinia?” I asked. Her face seemed to crumble momentarily. “No... ahh...no... Master...” she whimpered. Well, at least she was honest.
“Too bad,” I said, “because I expect you get plenty. Are you fucked every day, Lavinia?” I was deliberately using the name she had been known by in another world.
“N-Nearly every day, Master...”
“But sometimes more than once?”
“Yes, Master.” She finished drying me. Her mouth was quivering, tears trickling.
“What’s the most you’ve been fucked in a day, Lavinia?”
“I... ah... I think... tw-twelve times... mmmff... mmfff...M-Master.” The memory did not appear to be very pleasant by the look on her face!
“Mmmm... quite a treat for an ex-Lady of the Manor.” She sobbed openly at that. “I told you to stop snivelling, girl!
Go into that bedroom and get your arse up.”
“Pleee... eeease, Master... oooh... pleee... eeease...”
“Move!” She scuttled into the bedroom, bottom bouncing. I went to the cabinet where I knew the corrective instruments were kept and took out a cane. Turning, I saw a buxom bottom up high and quivering with dread. The Honourable Lavinia Montesque, I thought. Well, well. Not the kind of image she had once presented in The Tatler.
“Now you’re going to get something to snivel about,” I said. I gave her half a dozen good and hard and had her scrabbling and squirming all over the floor, crying out in pain. Her lack of experience was pretty obvious. A well trained, hardened slave-girl can take half a dozen like that and kept her hindquarters raised high in more or less the same position. But not Lavinia! When I had done, she knelt on the floor, hands over her face, sobbing.
I went to the House Phone.
“Send up a black Overseer,” I ordered.
“Yes, Sir,” replied a polite operator. The sobbing intensified. Lavinia knew what was coming now.
I donned a lightweight shirt and a pair of slacks.
“Mmmff... u-ugh... mmfff... u-ugh...” sobbed Lavinia.
“Keep your arse up high, girl. It’s shortly going to be made use of.” The buxom bosom, shuddering, came up higher. Obedience did not come naturally to Lavinia, one could see that. She must have had a very tough time in her early days, I reflected. Still, she’d learnt the rudiments of submission. Aknock on the door.
A muscular, coal-black Negro came in, wearing a tight white restrainer which bulged ominously. “Yes, Suh?” he
queried, grinning. The whites of his eyes were large and very white. So were his teeth.
“What’s your name?”
“Well, Johnson, kindly fuck that, will you?” I indicated to Lavinia’s upraised backside.
“Sure thing, Suh.” There was a deep, sobbing moan from Lavinia. The restrainer came off immediately to expose a massive piece of sexual equipment. Like all Bianca’s Overseers and Trainers, Johnson was exceedingly well hung. It positively made me envious. He moved across the room and patted Lavinia’s quivering bottom. “Well, ah do declare...it’s her Ladyship.” Another sobbing moan. Johnson winked at me.
“Her Ladyship don’t care much for us darkies,” he said.
“Gave us a lot of trouble once. Not so much now. But she still don’t like us. Ah knows that.” He winked again.
“Makes it all the more fun.” He was stiffening fast. Soon he came to nine or ten-inches of thickly-girthed male flesh, surmounted by a large, pale pink knob. He knelt behind Lavinia whose shoulders had begun to heave. “Ask for it, Lady” he said.
“Uuuughhh.” Oh what a despairing groan it was! Then came the choking words. “P-Please... f-fuck me Sir...” she said.
“OK, if that’s what you want, Lady,” he said. Then he gripped Lavinia’s soft flanks and rammed violently into her. All the way. His black belly thumping into her white buttocks. Lavinia let out a gasping wail as her head jerked up and her mouth gaped. I saw the horror and revulsion in her wide-staring eyes. How very understandable. One of her background and breeding could scarcely take kindly to such treatment.
Johnson, grunted with satisfaction, began to ram in and out. He used no finesse whatsoever but simply thumped in hard every time. Wham... wham... wham! I got hold of Lavinia’s hair and pulled up her face. It was contorted almost beyond all recognition.
“Nice?” I enquired.
She could only make some unintelligible sound... but one gathered it was not nice! Johnson was working away with a will. Thump... thump... thump!
“Does she ever come, Johnson?”
“Hhhaaahhh... yes... yes, Boss... sometimes... hhaaahh...not always... you want me... make her come, Boss?”
“Try that,” I said. And Johnson increased his pace. He was giving this ex-aristocrat a really sound fucking. Thumpthump-thump-thump! She was getting ten inches of solid prick every second or so. I still held up her face, holding her hair. Her features were beginning to crumple again. Eyes wide, mouth wide. Dribbling. She began a series of wails. Johnson had got her going. I realised. She didn’t want it. She was fighting. Fighting. But she couldn’t win. That big black cock was irresistible. Suddenly, her haunches began to work in co-operation with his thrusts. Her eyes were glazing. She was lost. Lost in lust. Johnson worked up to a fine frenzy. He couldn’t last much longer. Then Lavinia was squealing uninhibitedly in orgasm. Hating it, yet loving it. Johnson shot his bolt in a final flurry. Lavinia collapsed to the floor; Johnson slumped on top of her. There was moaning and heavy breathing.
“Well done, Johnson,” I said, as he began to recover.
“Thanks, Boss,” he said. withdrawing and getting up.
“Not a bad fuck, that Lady, once you get her moving.” Lavinia still lay moaning. I wondered what she thought of the comments.
“Take her with you, Johnson, will you?”
“Sure thing, Boss.” The Negro seized Lavinia by the hair and dragged her, screaming, across the room. Then through the door. It slammed behind him. The screams faded. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. It was good to be back at Bianca’s, where a man could do as he pleased.To date, I’d fucked a sixteen-year-old, caned an English Aristocrat, then had the latter fucked by a nigger. Not bad for starters, I reckoned.
And there should be plenty more entertainment ahead!