A glorious sun-drenched early morning greeted me as I awoke in my bed alongside the lovely brunette “door prize” I had won at the party the previous evening. It had been arranged for me to interview Greg at nine o’clock, so after fucking the young woman just once more I dismissed her from my suite, showered and shaved, and then contemplated what to wear for my appointment with the resort’s Managing Partner. I declined the limited selection of robes and togas available to me from the small wardrobe closet and elected instead to meet him clad in the same slacks, dress shirt and sports coat I had worn during my trip to Island Royale. Leaning against the front desk in the lobby, I felt a bit out of place as other Guests milled about in loose-fitting tunics, sometimes in the company of nude or semi-naked women and young girls, but I had resolved that I would not conduct my first serious interview dressed in a “bathrobe” and was therefore relieved to see that Greg greeted me wearing a conservative, well-tailored brown business suit.
Standing at just less than six feet tall, Greg does not present himself as a particularly imposing figure, and his charming graciousness soon places one completely at ease in his presence. His impressive tan, full head of dark brown hair – with just a hint of gray around the temples – and his seemingly boundless energy belies the fact that the American is actually almost 65 years old. We exchanged pleasantries and he asked if I had slept well. With a smile I started to recount my delightful encounter with the nubile young woman with whom I had shared my bed during the night, but when a buxom blonde wearing shorts and a halter top approached the concierge, he politely cut me off and suggested we grab some coffee from the breakfast bar before starting our interview. With our cups in hand Greg guided me through the swinging doors and over to one of the service elevators, and as we ascended he apologized for the earlier interruption but quietly explained that Management felt it best that the sex staff not overhear any conversation which might suggest that guests receive “attention” at the resort not commonly available to them elsewhere. “If the slaves were to learn that men don’t always have females on hand to entertain them," he said, “it would just confuse the hell out of ‘em.”
Greg is one of the “Founding Fathers” of Island Royale. He and John – or “John-Boy” as Greg and the others call him – had met as freshman classmates at Ithaca College in upstate New York during the early 1960s and had remained close friends while attending to their post-graduate studies at Columbia University. For several years they had together been quietly running as a side business a small “escort service” in Greenwich Village while pursuing their primary careers – Greg, as a promising young Wall Street attorney, and John-Boy, as the owner of a mid-Manhattan travel agency popular among the Very Rich – when the two young men met and had enlisted the aid of Dr. George, an equally youthful physician then in residence at a local New York hospital, to delicately address a “health concern” from which one of their prostitutes had been suffering. The two talented entrepreneurs quickly developed a warm and lasting friendship with the good doctor.
Their vision of a luxurious “all-inclusive” sex resort, catering to a select clientele of extremely wealthy men, took shape almost literally over the course of just one full weekend of serious drinking at Greg’s upscale East Side apartment. Greg, with his background in law, investments and management, would direct the general operation of the bordello, while Dr. George would see to the medical requirements of the staff and John-Boy, with his numerous connections to the “Rich and Famous,” would discreetly promote the business while also recruiting attractive young women from around the world to serve the needs of their customers.
Fearing local law enforcement “entanglements,” as Greg put it, the Three Partners scouted several offshore locations for their fledgling business venture before settling upon the purchase of an impressive Spanish-styled mansion, constructed in the early 1930s and set within the securely protected compound of a large former coffee plantation near Bogotá, Colombia, which appeared to offer what they believed to be necessary to the success of their enterprise: A secluded setting, favorable climate, and regional governmental officials who would be “sympathetic” to their cause. Following an extensive renovation of the mansion and grounds, La Casa – as the Partners had named their new brothel – opened for business with a sex staff of thirteen women, all Latinas in their late teens or early twenties hired locally from the slums of neighboring Bogotá or from the surrounding Colombian countryside.
Encouraged by the favorable responses the Three Partners had received from their initial trickle of visitors – predominantly rich American, Mexican, and Argentinean businessmen – more women were soon brought in to live and work at the bordello. With the arrival of seven young Thai women John-Boy had recruited and later, a group of European females he had enlisted for service while in Amsterdam, La Casa could now boast housing a truly “international” stable of young, attractive prostitutes who, while on duty, would skillfully play the role of “sex slave” for the amusement and enjoyment of their guests. As word further spread of the unique resort their business grew, and within a few short years La Casa had emerged as a popular Latin American “getaway” for extremely wealthy men seeking repeated casual sexual encounters with a large and varied assortment of submissive young women. Confident now that their enterprise would be a success, John-Boy sold his travel agency, Greg and Dr. George each resigned their respective positions in New York, and the Three Partners took up permanent residence in Colombia as full-time managerial directors of La Casa.
And indeed the business did flourish, at least for several more years, until senior members of the Colombian drug cartel – who were by then rapidly amassing political and military power as well as an even larger fortune than were the Three Partners – began demanding an ever-increasing percentage of the bordello’s profits in exchange for their “protection.” Faced with this growing financial burden and their uncertainty as to how long the cartel would remain appeased, the Three Partners decided to abruptly close La Casa, abandoning their prostitutes to the Colombian frontier, and move to a gated hotel facility they had acquired along the western coast of Africa, where they would recruit a fresh group of women from Europe and Asia to service their guests. The Partners would run their business in Africa for sixteen more years before again relocating to the present site of operations in the South Pacific.
The overall management of Island Royale served as an appropriate starting point for my interview with Greg, conducted in his large but surprisingly modestly appointed administrative office overlooking the Compound and deep blue South Sea waters beyond.
* * * * * * * *
Question: Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Frankly, I was surprised to have been invited to Island Royale and that you would accept my request for an interview. So, I guess I should start with asking you why you did so.
Answer: Well, you’re quite welcome. We’re all pretty proud of what we have been able to accomplish here and, now that we are rather well established, we feel comfortable in finally talking about the resort.
Or maybe it’s just that we want to do a bit of gloating. Besides, this whole feature of yours will probably never even see the light of day.
Q: IN/SIGHT is a rather highly respected news organization. Do you really believe this report will be dismissed simply as a work of “adult fiction?”
A: Probably. But it does provide us with some added insurance. We know you’ve been snooping around now for quite some time, and you were getting a bit too “close to home” with your investigation, if you know what I mean. This way, by inviting you here and letting you see in detail how we operate the resort, if word of Island Royale were ever actually to leak out we can just point to your little article here to discredit the claims as nothing more than a far-fetched pornographic fantasy.
Q: Nonetheless, you are taking a risk in talking with me.
A: A minimal one, maybe.
Q: I was impressed with the resort when I arrived, although I was a bit surprised to see such a large number of very young girls serving in the Compound. Some appeared to be no more than five or six years old. Tell me: Just how young are the girls here?
A: Well, actually, the girls you saw weren’t quite that young. More like seven or eight years old. But to answer your question, the totally serviceable females in the Compound range in age from about twelve to around twenty-eight years old, with the seven to eleven-year-olds available only for light petting, fondling, and other non-invasive sex such as fellatio and hand jobs.
We keep all of the much younger females segregated in the Nursery behind us.
Q: And how many girls do you keep in service?
A: It varies slightly from week to week, but on average we have about 300 women and young girls available for the use of our Guests at all times, plus probably 175 or so more who have been temporarily rotated out of sex assignment and into general resort maintenance – but who can be made available as needed.
Hey, somebody has got to cook the meals, clean the pool and change the sheets!
You tend to think there’s a bigger sex staff because you see females milling around the Compound all the time, awaiting their next session. Our girls are trained to return to that central area between sessions, but of course they generally don’t remain there long.
Now mind you, not all of these girls are available for straight sex. Many of them are simply too young to fuck, but we try to keep enough sexually mature females available to service well over half of our guests at any given time during the day and evening hours, and enough additional slaves “on call” from the maintenance pool to ensure each Guest can keep with him overnight at least one woman old enough to fuck.
Q: That would mean that the resort can accommodate about three hundred guests then, correct?
A: Actually we can accommodate three hundred forty-eight Guests, and rarely are we not fully booked.
Q: With a sex staff that large, I am wondering how big your general support staff is.
A: On the island itself, we basically figure a 2:1 ratio, including the service women. We require all of the staff you would expect to find at any exclusive resort, plus a somewhat larger technical maintenance staff – because we are so secluded.
Off the island we employ many more people. We obviously need a small but knowledgeable medical staff to screen our Guests, and then of course we have additional personnel associated with transportation, food and beverage purchases, sex slave acquisitions and the like. Not to mention all of our independent contractors in Turkey, Pakistan, Russia and elsewhere. But on the island itself, I guess we have around 700 on staff at any given time, including the sex staff. That’s not counting the girls in the Nursery, though.
A few – but only a few – of the women you see around here have been assigned permanently to the general maintenance staff. When a female has gotten too old to be of use to us as a sex slave, we usually just sell her, but occasionally we’ll keep a bitch as a full-time maintenance worker. We don’t have nearly enough “retired cunts” to do all the work, though, and that’s why we rotate the sex staff into and out of general maintenance service.
It actually works out pretty well. The sex staff knows they must treat the maintenance workers properly, and vice versa, because the next week their roles might be reversed.
Q: I’ve seen a number of males working here though as well.
A. We do keep a large technical and administrative staff – of men – to see to the physical requirements of the resort and to supervise the females. Keep in mind that we’re not just running a resort here. We maintain our own electrical, water and sanitation systems, and if something breaks, we can’t just simply call up a repairman to come out and fix it!
The men are of course employed by the resort and do what is necessary to keep the complex operating efficiently. Even the bitches permanently assigned to maintenance lack the skills to handle anything more complicated than general housekeeping and kitchen “KP” duty.
Q: I would think you would have difficulty getting any work at all out of your male technical staff, what with all the naked women running around.
A: Well, that really hasn’t posed much of a problem for us, actually. The guys are free to take the girls temporarily assigned to maintenance service back with them when they’re off duty, and some do quite often, but on the whole our male employees approach their work in an extremely responsible manner.
(Chuckling) And of course, I suppose, there is the “familiarity breeds contempt” factor. If you work all day in a bakery, after all, you’re probably not a huge fan of pastries on a regular basis.
Q: I suppose. But these men aren’t slaves. I know the women can’t leave voluntarily, but what happens if one of your male employees decides to quit?
A: Ah, well, that does pose a problem for us.
Generally a male employee will be with us only about 7-8 years before he will want to leave. Ironically, though, oftentimes one of our employees, having left, will contact us wanting to come back again. But even if he does, he’ll usually become bored again rather quickly and won’t stay long.
All of our employees are sworn to secrecy of course, but I must confess we are constantly worried that some clown will someday tell “what he knows” about our operations.
We take certain understandable precautions. All of our employees are quite well paid but their wages are sequestered in various bank accounts in Zurich. A former employee must accept only the “draw” we permit him to periodically make from his account, and if we receive even a hint that the former employee may have disclosed information about the resort, we can permanently shut down his account. Fortunately, we’ve only had to do that a few times over the years.
But still, I suppose, the saying is true: “A secret between two men can only be kept if one of the men is dead.” We remain constantly on guard to protect against word of Island Royale leaking out to the general public.
Q: So how does inviting me here serve as an “insurance policy” for you?
A. We figure that if you report accurately, then in the event one of our former employees does “spill his guts,” by simply suggesting that he had read your piece and tried to get some publicity from his fantasy, he can be effectively discredited.
Q: I see. Getting back to your female staff, when one of your slaves gets too old to even do general maintenance work, what then?
A: Well, we haven’t actually reached that point yet. The oldest members of our first Nursery school class – if any of them are even still around – would only now be in their mid thirties. As time goes on, though, I suppose more and more of our sex staff might eventually “retire” into general maintenance service. That’s why we figure that in the years ahead we won’t have to rely so much on our sex staff to help maintain the resort.
But you’re right. At some point we will need to deal with our aging female maintenance worker population, and frankly we haven’t figured out yet what to do with them once they eventually get that old. Management certainly doesn’t plan on running a nursing home for old whores here!
(Laughing) We’ll probably just take ‘em out and dump ‘em all in the ocean. That’s what we did some years ago when George found out one of the girls had developed breast cancer or something. Obviously we didn’t want to spend any time or money to treat her, and we couldn’t put her on the auction block like that. So we just disposed of her. Tied her hands behind her back, sliced open her pussy and pushed her off the deck. Oh, she kicked and screamed for awhile but with all that blood in the water it didn’t take long for the sharks to find her. And it saved us the hassle of having to get rid of the body.
Q: Speaking of management, how many partners do you have?
A: Not that many. I’m the general manager of the resort, of course, but I have four equal partners. John-Boy and Alexis, neither of whom are on the island right now, are in charge of acquiring new slaves and disposing of our unwanted culls. George, who you will meet later, sees to the medical side while Cynthia, who you will also meet later, supervises the Nursery.
Q: You have a female partner?
A: Oh, yes. Cynthia has been an equal partner with us almost since the beginning.
Q: And she has no qualms about training young girls to become sex slaves?
A: Not at all. This is a very profitable business and Cynthia shares equally in the profits.
Q: And may I ask just how profitable Island Royale is?
A: (Smiling) Well, you may ask….
Q: OK. Point taken. Getting back to the overall running of the business: How much does it cost you for a girl?
A: Uh, you mean our overall investment? That would be difficult to calculate. Or did you simply mean the cost of the initial acquisition?
Q: Well, let’s start with the initial cost of acquisition.
A: Well, nowadays we usually don’t have to pay anything at all to acquire a girl. We simply trade in our unwanted bitches for much younger females. But it wasn’t always that way.
You must keep in mind, we’ve been around now for a long time and we are pretty well known within the relevant circles. Our associates in Calcutta, Istanbul, Singapore or wherever are constantly on the lookout for appropriate girls, age four or five years old, to buy or kidnap for us. Typically we can get four or five cute little European females – or sometimes as many as eight or nine baby Asian girls – for even one of our older or less attractive culls.
Q: Really. I would have thought that the cost of purchasing a young girl as a sex slave would have been much higher.
A: Well, buying a teenager outright – especially a Caucasian bitch – is considerably much more expensive. I believe the going rate right now for an average-looking European girl of say, seventeen, is about $60,000 US if she’s already had her cherry taken, and you can expect to pay even more if her pussy’s never been used. But little girls are much cheaper and easier to get and, besides, we don’t want our new recruits any older than 4-5 years.
Q: Why not?
A: Because of the hassle.
Look, you bring in a girl of even, say, six years old and you know she’s already had six years of freedom, six years of bonding with her family and friends – and especially she’s had six years of socialization. By that age a girl has already been taught to believe that men shouldn’t be playing with her genitals as they wish, that she should be embarrassed to be seen naked in public, and that she should somehow be able to decide what she wants to do. By the time a girl reaches six years old, she may even already know that women have babies and that a woman’s tits are there to nurse those babies.
You bring in a girl older than about four or five years and you get a bunch of problems: Resentment of her captivity, a reluctance to perform sexual acts, objections to our demands that orders be obeyed without question and so forth. All of these are definite training and disciplinary problems. We don’t have any of those problems here since we acquire our girls so young – before they learn a lot of stupid social rules – and can train them to behave like we want them to.
Q: In other words, you substitute your own set of social rules of behavior for the ones the girls would have been taught had they remained with their families.
A: Exactly. If you think about it, we run Island Royale more like a classic Roman brothel than a conventional whorehouse, and these girls are all trained to behave like the slaves did back in those times. That’s our model.
Q: Please elaborate.
A: Gladly. Look, men have always wanted to have a lot of different pussy and they’ve devised a wide variety of ways to get it.
Keeping a large privately-owned stable of nubile females has always been reserved only for the Very Rich, of course. Arab culture in particular has traditionally approved of wealthy men having multiple wives and keeping women in harems as captive sex slaves. And for centuries it was common throughout the world for warlords, kings and emperors to own numerous female slaves and concubines they could fuck whenever they wanted to. But feeding and housing a bunch of gashes can get expensive, especially since they aren’t much good for anything else except to fuck, and so only very rich men could afford to have these toys. In fact, while these women were kept obviously to provide their masters sexual services, they served mainly as a status symbol – you know, as a way of demonstrating to others a guy’s wealth and prestige. By definition, the more females a man could own and maintain, the richer and more powerful he was seen to be.
Oh, sure, the King might have let his friends and colleagues use his girls, but the general public certainly wasn’t invited to the orgy. If an ordinary guy wanted to get laid, he either had to fuck the wife or hunt down some pussy on his own. The ordinary guy just couldn’t afford to keep a private stash of cunts, but (chuckling) he still liked the idea of fucking a bunch of different women. It didn’t take very long, therefore, before someone came up with the idea of pooling financial resources and started acquiring females who could be “rented out” to all the guys who wanted the pleasures of the harem but who individually could not afford the massive costs associated with one. Voila! The first bordello was created. And soon, there were many bordellos, each competing with the others for customers.
Many civilizations before and up through the days of the Roman Empire viewed having casual, impersonal sex with a stranger as a totally acceptable form of entertainment, and so elaborate brothels were built and stocked with slaves – both females and males – to serve the needs of their patrons. And for centuries, these businesses thrived. But attitudes change, and especially in Europe with the emergence of Christianity as a strong social force, the practice of owning slaves fell out of favor and sex itself came to be viewed, at least publicly, as a uniquely intimate act expressed only between married men and women. If a guy wanted to get a little extra-marital pussy he had to sneak out to get it, and since society no longer approved of or publicly supported lavish, ornate brothels stocked with sex slaves, he had to do it discreetly.
The traditional public whorehouse, at least since the Middle Ages, has by and large been a squalid little hut in a “bad” part of town, sheepishly visited by nervous men looking for an easy and relatively inexpensive way to get laid. The guy would arrive, select his prostitute, negotiate the price, fuck her and then leave as quickly as possible. Even in early medieval Europe, when society as a whole – not to mention the all-powerful Holy Roman Catholic Church – considered prostitution to be at least an “acceptable” occupation for a woman, customers rarely felt comfortable being seen in public with any of their whores. And that certainly remained true even for the miners and cowboys who were routinely being serviced out of the tents and saloons of the Old American West. Everybody knew the hookers were there, of course, but nobody in “decent” society would acknowledge them as fellow productive citizens of their community.
The fancy 19th Century “Gentlemen’s Establishments” of Paris and Berlin – and certainly their more primitive cousins in New Orleans, Chicago or San Francisco – weren’t really all that much better. Oh, the girls may have been a bit better dressed, and the whorehouses were perhaps kept a bit cleaner. Management would often even include some sort of alternate entertainment such as a nightclub act, a floor show, or maybe just a ragtime piano player, and the place may have seemed like a sort of private “club” to the patrons, but even the best of these places paled in comparison to the ornate brothels that they used to have in Roman days. Basically, regardless of how plain or fancy the whorehouse might be, the scenario really hasn’t changed all that much since the Middle Ages: The John still arrives and selects his prostitute, still negotiates the price of a fuck, and still leaves the place as soon as he has gotten laid.
And the women that work in these cathouses are all well aware of what they are doing. Some view providing sex as simply their occupation: No Fuck, No Eat. Others, such as those found in the seedy little clubs and “hotels” in Istanbul and Shanghai, may fuck out of fear – a fear of beatings, a fear of death, or sometimes simply because they fear life outside the whorehouse. All of these women have been taught to believe that what they are doing is “wrong” and not approved of by “decent” society, though, and most of these girls really don’t care whether their clients are happy. Heck, probably very few of them actually even offer up the use of their pussy without some resentment.
Q: But Island Royale is different.
A: That’s right. We model Island Royale after the luxurious bordellos that were popular at the height of the Roman Empire. Our females are true slaves, just like in the old days, and they are devoted to giving men pleasure. Our bitches accept without question that their only purpose in life is to sexually gratify men. That’s what makes Island Royale unique among the world’s brothels.
Q: Truly unique?
A: I think so. There are other sex resorts in the world, of course. Down in the Dominican Republic there’s Exotic Retreat for example and, oh yeah, the Angels in Paradise holiday resorts in Thailand. They’re pretty nice. But the way those places work is that the operators line up a bunch of good-looking women to be on hand as part of the hotel’s “accommodations package.” When a guest books a visit he reviews a list of the available females and reserves one of them to keep with him for the duration of his stay. Sometimes for a little variety a guest can arrange for a temporary “swap” with another visitor, but by and large he’s stuck with fucking the same bitch the whole time he’s there.
Q: Where do they get these women?
A: Oh, I don’t know. I think Exotic Retreat hires women mainly from Russia and other eastern European countries, but they also supplement their inventory with native Latinas. The Asian resorts recruit almost all of their women locally, though.
The gals make pretty good money as hookers, but they certainly all recognize that they are in the business of providing sex and companionship to these guys and can always quit if they get tired of the work or if they don’t think they’re getting paid enough for their services. And all of these women are adult professional prostitutes. No kids. If a guy wants to get some underage pussy, he’s got to leave the resort and go into town for it.
Not that it’s all that hard to find, really, especially in Thailand. There are a number of “hotels” just in Bangkok alone where a whole bunch of little girls are kept available for a quick lay. Shoot, in one of ‘em they even keep all the baby snatches stripped and standing around in these glass cages where a guy can just walk around and pick out the little cunt he wants to fuck. But it can be dangerous leaving the safety of the resort and, if a guy doesn’t know what he’s doing or where he’s going, there’s a good chance he can get ripped off – or worse.
Q: But not here.
A: No, Island Royale is completely different. We get our girls at a very tender age – four and five years old – and from the moment they arrive they are taught that their only reason for existence is to provide sexual pleasure to men. Here they’re told that’s all they’re good for, and that they will not have successfully fulfilled their purpose in life until they have fucked every man on the planet.
And here at Island Royale, a Guest is not simply limited to screwing just one or two of the girls – he has our entire inventory to choose from! Both sexually mature young women and preadolescent little girls, each willing and eager to please. Any time he wants.
Q: Any time?
A: Any time.
Look, as I said, our females here don’t just “act the part” of a submissive sex slave. They are sex slaves, and their lives are committed exclusively to sexually servicing men. A girl here who does not freely and enthusiastically suck cock is looked upon with distain by the other girls; the gash who is unable to get her Master to ejaculate feels she has failed somehow. At Island Royale, our prepubescent females anxiously await the day when they can finally spread their legs and receive a hard dick up their twat, and once they’re old enough to fuck, our slave bitches are genuinely disappointed if they don’t get laid at least four or five times each day.
Q: That’s just amazing. How do you get the girls to think that way?
A: Again, it’s all because of the age we get them.
We don’t take girls younger than four. We don’t want to bother with toilet training, or teaching them how to walk and all of that crap. But we do want to get them before they’ve been heavily influenced by “outside society.” That’s why acquiring a female child at the age of four or five years is ideal. They’re beyond the “toddler” stage and are eager to learn – to learn whatever it is we want to train them to do.
Q: And so does that training begin immediately?
A: Well, I guess the answer to your question would technically be yes, but a girl’s formal education and training doesn’t start for about a year or so after her arrival.
The first thing we do after we acquire a girl is to have her spayed. That obviously avoids for us the risk of pregnancy when she gets older. George prefers doing something called a “supracervical hysterectomy.” Simply sterilizing a female – you know, through radiation or maybe tying off her ovaries for example – isn’t enough because we would still need to deal with those awkward “monthlies” once she reaches puberty. Giving her a full supracervical hysterectomy makes her available for sex every day of the month for the rest of her life. And if you perform this surgery on a really young girl, she tends to heal up rather quickly.
While she is “under the knife,” so to speak, we also surgically rupture her hymen.
Years ago we didn’t do that, and instead would hold a raffle or something and offer up the girl’s virginity as a prize to one of our guests who happened to be visiting at the time she became ripe for fucking. But what we found was that the girl would be rather nervous about her first mounting, the Guest really excited, and invariably it seemed he would simply just want to jump on top of her, ram his dick up her twat as quickly as possible, fuck her hard and come. That would often leave quite a bloody mess and the girl might be in pain for days. Shoot, even after her pussy had healed she might still be scared about being fucked for several weeks afterward. So now, we simply rupture her hymen as soon as we get her, long before she learns what her cunt is for, and gradually introduce her to a dick as she grows up.
We do let her keep her clitoris, though. We want her to feel good about sex. (Laughing) We’re not interested in female genital mutilation around here.
Q: You said that formal training doesn’t begin then for about a year after you’ve obtained her. What do you do with her during that first year?
A: During that first year, before her formal education begins, all we expect from a girl is that she become accustomed to her nudity and comfortable being touched and fondled by men. After we’ve sterilized her, she’s equipped with her “jewelry” to designate her childhood – you’ve seen them on the younger girls in the Compound, I’m sure: A small red ceramic cherry attached to a thin gold chain leading from her vagina – and we get her used to wearing that.
She’ll spend a lot of time playing with her other “sisters” in the Nursery, and we’ll play with her, too. You know, feeling her up and fondling her pussy a lot – generally just get her used to being treated as a toy.
Q: While we’re on the subject of a girl’s “jewelry,” I also noticed that each of the girls wears a collar with her name printed on it. Under her nameplate, though, is a button. What is that button for?
A: When a female is between sessions, she’ll trigger a miniature receiver in her amulet. That way, we can keep track of how active she is and when she can be made available if a Guest summons her. While often a Guest will select a sex partner from among the females available in the Compound, he can also arrange for a specific girl to be summoned by using the computer terminal in his suite. Her amulet will vibrate and she will report to the concierge to receive instructions for her next assignment. Much like the electronics some restaurants use to let patrons know their table is ready.
(Laughing again.) It’s our version of “computer dating.” You just click on a girl you’d like to fuck and usually she’ll be at your door within minutes.
You really should check out your computer terminal.
Q: And so I shall. But back to the children. Do you simply send them right out into the Compound after that first year?
A: Oh, no, no. They won’t be permitted into the Compound for at least a few years or so after their arrival. After that first year, their formal training begins, but until they’re about seven or eight they’ll remain more-or-less segregated in the Nursery.
Q: How many girls do you keep in the Nursery?
A: Well, the figure is constantly changing, of course, as the girls complete their slave training and are put into service out in the Compound. Cynthia could tell you how many girls we have there at the moment, but on average I would guess we have around 175-180 or so baby pussies in the Nursery at any given time.
Q: I see. And do these girls go naked for those three years in the Nursery?
A: No, not all of the time. Initially they did, but what we discovered early on was that, if the little twats didn’t ever wear any clothing, they would get really uncomfortable once you tried to put clothes on them.
Most of our Guests, you see, don’t want these girls naked all of the time. They prefer that the staff tease them a bit. Sometimes they want to see their women in full length evening gowns; at other times, maybe just a short “revealing” outfit, allowing the girl to flash her tits and pussy. Having the little girls go completely naked all of the time would never give them a chance to learn how to wear clothing, so we introduce them to a rudimentary wardrobe when they are quite young.
Q: What do they wear, then?
A: Well, you’ll see for yourself later on when you visit the Nursery. But basically we have three simple outfits.
The first is just a rectangular sheet of cloth, hemmed on one edge, with a length of rope threaded through the loop. The girl wears the cloth around her waist and ties the cord in front. Her hips and ass are mainly covered, but of course her pussy remains exposed.
The second garment is really just a variation of the first, made with two much smaller pieces of cloth. Again, the girl wears this around her waist and ties the cord in front. Her flanks are somewhat covered, but her ass and pussy remain open to view.
When we want to introduce the girls to more elaborate clothing, we’ll start by having them wear a simple dress consisting of a couple of pieces of cloth with a semicircle cut out of one of the ends. Those ends are stitched together; she slips it over her head and ties a length of rope around her waist. The rope tends to make the cloth bunch up a bit in front but gives the girl a feel for cloth rubbing against her tits. The dress leaves her flanks exposed for the most part, and the cloth can be lifted easily in both the front and the back should you want to inspect her ass or vagina.
Sometimes, especially among the older girls on the verge of moving into the Compound, we may outfit them with more traditional “feminine” attire, but for the most part our girls in the Nursery wear one of those three basic outfits – if they wear anything at all.
Q: So then a girl’s formal training begins after about a year, right?
A: Training and education. Fairly early on, we concluded that we could not simply ignore basic education. So, we teach these girls the “Three ‘Rs’” – Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic – just as you would a kid in any typical grammar school.
Q: Why did you decide this was necessary?
A: It was so darn frustrating for us! We’d send a cunt to get something, and she couldn’t read the labels. Or we’d tell a girl to report for a session and she wouldn’t know which suite to go to – she couldn’t read the room number. Really, giving the bitches a basic education – to about a first or second grade level – is more for our benefit than it is for them. They certainly don’t need to be taught any other traditional grammar school subjects such as history or geography.
Q: Other than this basic education, then, what other instructions do your girls receive?
A: The Nursery curriculum consists of three more-or-less equal parts. One, as I said, is to give the little gashes an elementary understanding of reading, writing, and arithmetic.
The second is in what I like to call the “social graces.” These bitches will be with very wealthy and important men, and they all must learn how to present themselves properly and behave appropriately. They must develop good personal grooming habits and keep themselves clean, fresh, and ready for sexual activity at all times. We need them to be able to speak well. Etiquette is very important. We teach them to be polite and submissive. We teach them to obey orders. It is vital to us that these cunts always know they are subservient beings – animals, really – kept as pets solely for our amusement. We simply will not tolerate any female exhibiting an “independent streak” here.
Obviously, the third part of our educational program is devoted to providing the slaves extensive instruction in proper sexual technique. Our girls become familiar with male genitalia quite early in their training, and each will perform her first masturbation of a penis long before her sixth birthday. By the time they’re seven or eight, and ready to join the others in the Compound, all of these girls will be experts at giving head and providing exceptional hand jobs.
Q: And the girls don’t resist being used like this?
A: Absolutely not. They accept their existence as a sex slave quite easily.
You know, when we first started we thought we would have problems in that area, but we’ve never had any. I don’t know if the full answer can ever truly be known, but I think it’s a combination of a couple of things.
Certainly a large part of it, I think, is instinct. We may be living in the 21st Century, after all, but we still carry with us some remnants of our prehistoric nature. Way back in ancient caveman times, having children around was by and large a nuisance to the tribe. They were too young to go on a hunt, and too young to help keep the home fires going. Little girls in particular couldn’t do much of anything to earn their keep except that they could entertain their elders by sexually servicing their fathers, their older brothers, and the other adult males of the tribe. If you buy in to Darwin’s theory, as I do, that those who are more successful in adapting to their surroundings are more likely to live to maturity and reproduce, then it follows that those little gashes who were instinctively more inclined to provide sexual services were more likely to be allowed to remain with the clan. A young female who didn’t naturally take to sucking cock or who wouldn’t submit to being mounted whenever a male wanted to get laid was basically worthless to them and would either be killed outright or at least abandoned by the others and left to starve to death.
If you think about it, every successful civilization in history has been ruled by men, and by and large women have always served in a passive, submissive capacity. By instinct, females of all ages want to please men, and they unconsciously view performing sexual acts as a way of demonstrating to their bigger and more powerful male protectors and providers that they will remain docile and obedient servants at all times.
Look at the way little girls like to cuddle up on Grandpa’s lap, spreading their legs and encouraging Grandpa to touch and hug them. Girls at that age know nothing about fucking. What they do know on an unconscious level, though, is that by letting the older males play with their bodies, they can in turn rely upon those males to provide for and protect them.
And this isn’t just human behavior. Look at little puppies. They may be only a few weeks old, but already a few of the males in the litter will be seen demonstrating mounting activities. That can’t be sexual desire – they’re all far too young to breed. No, it must be a canine way of establishing each puppy’s social ranking within the pack.
Q: That’s a good theory.
A: But I don’t think that instinct alone explains why these girls are all so willing to engage in sexual acts. I think the role society plays in teaching young girls how to behave might be equally important. I truly do not believe that a little girl feels “victimized” or “exploited” if she’s called upon to provide sexual services unless or until someone – a parent, a teacher, or perhaps a social worker – tells her that what she’s doing is “wrong” or that she’s not supposed to be used like that.
I recall reading a story in a newspaper many years ago. Some little five-year-old girl had been taught to come home from school each day, take off her clothes, and give her stepfather a blow job. (Chuckling) Sort of a basic daily household chore for her, like washing the dishes or taking out the garbage. Around the time she turned twelve he started fucking her on a regular basis and later on let her older step-brother and some of his friends fuck her as well. This went on for several years, without any problems whatsoever, until the authorities learned of it and had the guy arrested.
Now, mind you, this little “family routine” didn’t come to light because the girl had complained to the police that she was being “sexually molested” on a more-or-less daily basis. Rather, they learned about it only because somebody overheard the girl’s step-brother talking with one of his friends about what a nice little tight pussy she had! Only after the girl had been sent into counseling did she learn that she had been made “a victim of sexual exploitation.” Only then did she start feeling “traumatized.” Hell, she had been getting along fine – doing quite well in school, even – until the damn counselors started messing with her head. After that, she was a basket case.
Think about it: Even in Europe, up until the 18th Century or so, girls were still routinely being married off when they were only nine or ten years old. Now, granted, a cunt that young is just way too small to safely fuck, but you can bet their husbands – some of whom were in their twenties, thirties, or even older – certainly didn’t wait around until their wives were eighteen to jump on top of them. Heck, back then fucking little girls wasn’t considered a sexual deviancy; it was just something you did with little girls. Certainly none of those kids back then thought of themselves as being “sexually exploited.” They were simply doing what their society expected of them. And for that matter, the Mormons still order girls into polygamous marriages when they’re twelve. Hell, she’ll have pupped out a few kids before she’s old enough to get a driver’s license!
All young bitches instinctively want to suck a cock – it’s in their DNA – and they all want to be mounted just as soon as their pussy is big enough. Shoot, it took a statute to make fucking a girl under eighteen a crime, and until societal attitudes changed, nobody considered the practice of screwing little girls at all improper. And for that matter, the practice is still considered quite socially acceptable in many Asian and Middle Eastern countries.
Simply put: There’s nothing “unnatural” about having sex with children. Pedophilia isn’t biologically a sexual deviancy; it’s just another way of having sex. It only becomes a “deviant sexual activity” if society decides to make it one.
Q: That all does make a lot of sense.
A: Of course it does! And so, all of our girls – who already instinctively want to sexually please men – are told that they are supposed to do so! It makes them feel good. It gives their life meaning and purpose. The females here on the island have all had men playing with their pussies for as long as they can remember, and they’ve all been sucking cock on a daily basis since they were five years old! It’s really not surprising, then, that by the time they’ve reached the age of eight, every one of our little slave bitches is an expert at giving head – and is eager to give it – and that they all look forward to the day when they’re finally old enough to get laid. Here at Island Royale, these cunts are all trained to understand that they exist only to provide men pleasure.
To these gashes, it’s not just their job – it’s their only purpose in life.
Q: But surely the children must still be taught how to perform fellatio. Who provides this instruction?
A: (Smiling) Well, in the early years me, George and the other administrative staff would do all the “tutoring.” But, as the business grew so did the Nursery, and after awhile we just had far too many little girls needing to suck our dicks than we could handle. The guys were all kept pretty busy just running the joint and they couldn’t, you know, always spare the time, so tapping the technical staff to take off work to have their cocks serviced didn’t work out very well at all for us once the Nursery really got going.
And then one week, one of the guys suggested that we ask for volunteers from among our Guests to help train our little girls to give blow jobs. Boy, was that a great idea! I think every single one of our Guests volunteered. (Laughing now.) We had to draw straws!
Nowadays, we simply make “training visits” to the Nursery a regular feature here at Island Royale. Getting a blow job in the Nursery is an extremely popular activity, but usually our Guests can get as much head as they want from the little ones during a week’s stay.
While you’re here this week you should definitely sign up for at least a visit or two. You’ll really enjoy it. Just contact the concierge for a reservation.
Q: All right, I will. So when are the Nursery girls actually then ready to join the general population of sex slaves in the Compound?
A: They’re all pretty well good to go before they turn eight. Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re immediately available to fuck. They won’t be ready for that for a few more years. That’s why they wear their ornaments.
Q: Yes, what are they exactly?
A: Well, basically they’re just a little plastic plug, shoved up into her pussy. They’re about the same diameter as a tampon, I guess, but are quite a bit shorter – only about two inches long or so. The chain attached to the end of the plug is a little bit longer – about four inches – and actually is made of gold so it doesn’t tarnish. The ornament itself is simply a ceramic charm, molded and painted to look like a cherry.
Q: I did find that amusing.
A: Yeah, most of the men do. And I take full credit for the design! (Laughing again.) Hey, even if none of these girls have an intact hymen anymore, they at least get to keep their “cherry” until they’re ripe.
The girls themselves, though, have no idea what the joke is.
Q: I wouldn’t think so. When do you decide to “pull the plug” and release a girl into the general population?
A: (Chuckling) You mean, when do we “pop her cherry?” That’s really a medical decision that George makes, but generally our girls become available for vaginal sex when they’re around eleven or twelve years old.
You understand, of course, that we give all of our slaves regular physical examinations, including full gynecological exams. That’s especially true of our preadolescents. And once the girls leave the Nursery, we’ll start conducting periodic dildo tests on them, so we have a pretty good idea of when it’s finally safe to pussy-fuck them.
Q: A “dildo test?”
A: (Laughing) Yeah, that’s what we call it. And it’s just what you’d expect it to be. We shove a rod up her cunt and measure how big a dick she can take.
As a matter of fact, I saw George earlier and I think he said he’d be giving a dildo test to one of our young girls in (glancing at his watch) well, just a few minutes from now, actually. Would you care to watch?
Q: It’s all right for me to be there?
A: Sure. George doesn’t mind and the gashes are all quite used to being naked around men.
* * * * * * * *
We suspended our interview at this point and Greg led me out of his office and down the long curving hallway leading to the entrance of the infirmary.
Inside the infirmary is a simple desk and behind this desk sits a chair and a row of plain metal filing cabinets. To the left are three small windowless rooms, two of which were open but neither occupied at the time of my visit. In each of the first two rooms there is a single-sized bed, a small writing desk and chair, and a wall of wood-faced cabinets. Indeed, in all material respects these rooms look just like any other modestly appointed sick room one might see in a high school or college infirmary. The third room, which remained closed and locked while I was there, serves as the resort’s surgical chambers and it is here that Dr. George sterilizes each of the newly acquired young female sex slaves.
To the right of the desk is a much larger room, obviously used for medical examinations. Dominating the center of the room is the table, covered with a white custom-fitted contour sheet and equipped with the ubiquitous gynecological stirrups doctors always seem to require when examining female genitalia. Running along the full length of the far wall is a laminated plastic countertop, with drawers and wood-faced cabinets installed both above and below. The countertop was empty during my visit except for a clipboard, two ballpoint pens, a few bottles of antiseptic near the stainless steel sink, and a long white tapered plastic rod, softly rounded on one end and ringed in multiple colors in what looked to me to be about half-inch intervals. The instrument appeared to be slightly more than two inches in diameter at its thickest point and to measure almost fourteen inches in length, although the colored marking rings stopped about three-quarters of the way from the shaft’s brightly-colored blue tip.
Several minutes passed before Dr. George arrived carrying a thin manila folder. After exchanging introductions, Dr. George explained that he would shortly be performing the routine examination of a ten-year-old girl named Mica. Commencement of the examination would be delayed slightly, he said with a hint of annoyance, as the girl was still “engaged in a session” with a Guest, but would be ordered to report to the infirmary as soon as she had concluded her blow job and had rinsed her mouth.
Dr. George showed me Mica’s file. Most of his medical notations were gibberish to me but I did glean some pertinent information regarding the girl:
• Mica had been acquired by Island Royale at the age of four years as part of a trade that had sent two of the resort’s older women to a wholesale sex slave broker in Istanbul, along with twelve others he had purchased, in exchange for ten very young girls, age 4-5 years. A few of these children had simply been kidnapped by the broker himself from their rural village homes in (the former) Yugoslavia, but most of them had been purchased from others who had performed the actual abductions. Mica had been born in a small town near the Russian-Ukrainian border and had been sold to the broker by one of her maternal uncles for an undisclosed price. The small photograph clipped to her file suggested Mica to be an attractive little girl with dark hair and brown eyes.
It suddenly occurred to me that little “Mica” might very well be one of the children whose disappearances had launched my investigation into the sex slave industry. I scoured her file for the name of her home village and, yes indeed, the area had been one of the first places I had visited. I mentally calculated when that visit had occurred and concluded that the little girls taken from the village at that time would all be about ten years old by now. I did not recall from my interviews any of the little abducted girls having been named “Mica,” but of course the children’s captors could – and most probably did – change all of the young girls’ names in order to make their disappearances all that much more difficult to trace. How very interesting, I thought: Until this time I had believed all of these children had been viciously abducted in the night by strangers, but in fact many – including Mica – had actually been sold into sexual slavery by someone the child both knew and trusted.
And after years of searching, I realized, I was soon to finally meet one of these kidnapped little girls.
• Mica had completed her preadolescent slave training in the Nursery shortly before her eighth birthday and had therefore been in service in the Compound for almost two and one-half years. According to her file, after she had been surgically sterilized the child had had to visit the infirmary but twice other than for her periodic “routine” examinations: Once, to have a problem milk tooth extracted and, more recently, to receive treatment for an abrasion to her vaginal lining caused by a Guest who had inappropriately slipped his finger into her during a session. Dr. George had noted that she had recovered nicely following an overnight stay in the infirmary, however, and had resumed her daily activities in the Compound the next morning without any complications. Her file did not reveal if or how the Guest had been sanctioned for his indiscretion.
• Mica’s most recent physical examination had been about ten weeks prior to my visit. According to Dr. George’s medical history, at that time she had accepted almost four inches of the phallus into her vagina without demonstrable pain or discomfort and the doctor had noted that he believed she was due for a “growth spurt” in the near future and might soon be able to comfortably accommodate four inches or more of the instrument into her vaginal canal.
Just as I had concluded reading her file, Mica quietly entered the infirmary and presented herself to Dr. George for her examination. Her photograph did not do her justice, for she was indeed a beautiful little girl with big brown eyes and dark brown hair which she held securely in back by a brightly colored elastic band. Soon after her arrival she released that band, sending her hair cascading down to her shoulders, leaving exposed the slight swells of her still largely undeveloped breasts.
The child wore nothing but a simple skirt, open in the front and fully displaying before us her tiny hairless vagina. Swaying gently between her thighs, kissed by her pussy lips, was the thin gold chain and bright red ornament that confirmed her preadolescence.
The little girl spoke in English, with just a hint of an eastern European accent, and she politely greeted each of us in turn, appearing neither ashamed of nor embarrassed by her nudity. She casually untied her small garment and allowed it to drop to the floor as she leapt up on to the examination table, immediately negotiating her heels into the gynecological stirrups. She had obviously been examined this way many times before and eagerly assumed her position: Flat on her back with her hands tucked, palms down, under her buttocks and with her thighs spread wide by the stirrups. She calmly lay there beneath the bright fluorescent lights, offering to us a stunning view of her smooth, hairless prepubescent vagina.
I had been quietly gazing at the splayed lips of Mica’s bald pussy for quite some time, marveling at the softly rounded contours of the child’s exposed sex, before I noticed Greg smiling at me.
“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” he grinned. And indeed, it was.
It was with increasing difficulty that I resisted touching the little girl’s vulva, but the gold chain and red ceramic cherry, now resting quietly between the cheeks of her buttocks, reminded me that Mica’s presentation of herself was for the benefit of Dr. George, not me, and that the soft pink interior of her preadolescent womanhood was strictly “off limits” to visitors. I continued to stand there, mesmerized by the display of the beautiful young girl’s tiny pussy, while Dr. George examined Mica’s ears, eyes, throat and teeth, but I quietly moved to a position just beyond her left leg as the doctor positioned himself between the naked girl’s thighs.
Quickly spreading her labia with his left hand, Dr. George plunged his right index and middle fingers deep into the girl and withdrew her plug. Mica gasped slightly with this invasion of her gender, but otherwise did not react.
The doctor casually tossed the young girl’s pussy charm to the counter and walked over to the far side of the table. He began massaging the girl’s tiny clitoris with his right index finger while simultaneously lightly rubbing her budding left breast in an ever-decreasing circular pattern. Mica clearly enjoyed being played with and smiled as she arched forward to meet the doctor’s hand. Dr. George continued his circular movements around her breast until he had finally centered over her smooth coffee-colored areola, and he then began to gently twist and pinch her nipple, coaxing it to stiffen. He pulled his finger out of her vagina, studied her swollen little nipples, and turned to the counter to scribble something in his file.
“Ok, then, it’s time to test you. Are you ready?” asked Dr. George as he turned again to the young girl lying naked on the table. He was holding the long multi-ringed plastic phallus, wet and shimmering in the bright glow of the examination room lights. Mica nodded and struggled to lean upward and forward, positioning herself to where she could observe her vaginal impalement while supporting her torso on her elbows. She looked first to Greg, then to me as she began wetting her lips, but turned her head back sharply to Dr. George as he brought the instrument into contact with her slit.
Dr. George gently but firmly pierced the lips of the little girl’s hairless pussy with the tip of the phallus, and slid it up inside her about three inches. Mica inhaled deeply with this modest penetration, but continued otherwise to remain motionless. Glancing back and forth between the little girl’s face and the plastic dildo partially buried within her baby cunt, the doctor moved the phallus forward a half inch, held position briefly, and then backed it out a bit. Mica again quietly gasped. Dr George advanced the dildo yet again, this time eliciting from the little girl both a sharp gasp and a slight twitch of her pelvis as her pussy lips curled inward around the plastic shaft. He left the phallus in this position for a few seconds before slowly retreating slightly from her vagina, but soon he was advancing again and Mica grunted audibly as she leaned forward in an attempt to protect herself from the invading dildo. Again, the good doctor backed the rod out an inch or so before plunging it even deeper into the child’s moist little twat, eliciting an even sharper gasp from Mica. Dr. George pressed the white shaft even further into the little girl, burying the tip deep inside her, and held the instrument in this position for several seconds. Mica was visibly in discomfort now, and the doctor abandoned his efforts to further impale her, drawing the phallus fully out of her pussy. Mica relaxed and slowly exhaled as she settled back once again to the table.
“A little bit more than 4 ½ inches, Honey. You’re really getting to be a big girl,” said Dr. George as he made further notes in his file. “Yes, Master!” answered Mica, smiling broadly.
Dr. George returned to the foot of the table, swinging the little girl’s cherry ornament by its chain. He deftly spread her labia and slipped the small plastic plug back deep into her pussy. Again, Mica grunted. “OK, then, we’re done. You’re free to go,” announced the doctor as he clipped his pen to her file. He turned to look at me. “Unless, of course, you’d like to use her now.”
Mica quickly lifted her heels from the stirrups, swung her legs over to the near side of the table and slid to the floor. “Would you like me to serve you now, Master?” she asked me politely. I nodded vaguely, somewhat bewildered still by what I had recently witnessed, and the little girl approached. Dr. George smiled as he and Greg walked out the door. “You can use this room if you want,” he said. “Come on down to my office when you’re done.”
The child struggled a bit unhitching my belt – most of the Guests wear togas and tunics much easier for the girls to negotiate – but she finally succeeded in working my trousers down to my ankles. She stared curiously at my jockey shorts, unaccustomed to seeing men wearing clothing beneath their robes. No matter. She soon had my underwear peeled down as well, exposing my member as it hung but inches from her face.
I must confess that, while I had maintained an incredible hard-on during most of the child’s examination, my penis was by this time only semi-erect. It did not take the little girl’s tongue long though to again bring me to full attention. She started first by massaging my rod with her left hand, cupping my testicles in her right, while carefully licking my balls. I could feel a climax rapidly approaching and Mica, sensing this as well, abandoned her hold on my shaft and began licking my inner thigh, slowly moving higher and closer to the base of my penis. The urgency of my organism subsided somewhat. Greg had been right, I thought. These girls are experts. Mica had slowed her pace in order to extend my pleasure.
The level of my sexual excitement again increased as the little girl slowly traced the underside of my shaft with her tongue. When she reached the tip of my penis she began her final assault upon my manhood, and soon I could no longer control myself, exploding in a series of orgasmic spasms, filling her tiny mouth with my cum.
Mica had anticipated my climax as well and had placed her tongue over the tip of my penis, directing my jism away from the back of her throat. Methodically moving her head forward and back as I unloaded into her, she paused briefly, just once to swallow, before resuming her mouth-fuck. The little girl continued to suck my cock, even after I had emptied myself, but as my erection diminished she withdrew and nestled my shaft between her cheek and palm, slowly rolling it back and forth as she licked the tip of my knob in search of any remaining drops of semen.
I imagine she would have remained massaging my member forever had I not eventually stepped backward to stare down to the young female standing naked before me. Mica recognized that her services had been completed but continued to cradle my flaccid penis in her hand.
“If you are finished with me now, Master, I will leave,” she said softly. I nodded and mumbled something. Mica smiled, gently released her hold on my cock, and casually picked up her loincloth as she quietly moved toward the doorway of the examination room. I watched as she positioned the small garment around her waist while exiting the infirmary.
Years before, I thought to myself, I had agonized over the plight of those unfortunate little girls who had been so savagely stolen in the night from their homes and families.
And now I had just received the most impressive blow job of my life from one of them.
In candor, I have no recollection of either dressing myself or walking back down the hallway to Dr. George’s office. I do, however, recall the doctor sitting comfortably behind his desk, wearing a grin the Cheshire Cat would envy, as I made my entrance.
“Quite a deal being blown by a ten-year-old, isn’t it?” I tried to think of something clever to say, but managed only a rather lame “Oh, yeah……”
Leaning forward, Dr. George continued to smile. “I think Greg had wanted you to interview me now, but you’re obviously in no shape to do so. Why don’t you go back to your room and change, and we’ll get together later.” I nodded in agreement. “Out the door and turn right,” gestured the doctor. “The service elevators will be a little ways down the hall.” I nodded vacuously again and left his office. I could still hear Dr. George laughing to himself as I staggered down the hallway.
I returned to the main level of the hotel and passed the concierge. Glancing to my left, in the distance I could see a dozen or more nude or semi-naked girls and women outside in the Compound, but Mica was not among them. Still in the Boudoir, I assumed, washing her mouth to remove any remaining evidence of my recent ejaculation. A young nude woman with long curly blonde hair stood leaning against the front desk, her large breasts draped over the counter, listening as the male desk attendant read to her from his computer screen the orders for her next liaison. Another girl, black as night and clad in a skimpy white bikini, stood waiting behind her to receive instructions for her next session. Under other circumstances I would undoubtedly have wished to have studied such a scene in much greater detail, but at that time all I could think about was getting back to my room and collapsing.
And so I did.
* * * * * * * *
I awoke late in the afternoon, the vivid memories of Mica’s exquisite blow job still fresh in my mind. I was eager to explore other sexual adventures available to me during my stay at Island Royale and decided to revisit my computer terminal. Browsing through the thumbnails, I again located Danica, the attractive nineteen-year old Polish brunette I had “discovered” the previous day.
I recalled from my first exploration of her web page that Danica stood 5’8”, weighed just over 115 pounds, and that her “vital statistics” were 34C-24-33. I could feel a stirring once again in my loins as I studied her photograph, taken as she posed in the nude while leaning against a palm tree, and I decided to inquire as to her availability. The screen cleared:
Danica is currently available for your use.
What would you like to do?
ï± Have Danica summoned to you?
ï± Return to the main screen to make another selection?
I requested that she be summoned. Following another brief pause, the screen again cleared:
Danica has been summoned for you.
Within minutes there was a knock at my door and the bare-breasted girl stood before me wearing only a short, tight, crimson-colored skirt. “You requested me, Master?” she asked. “Yes,” I answered, and Danica stepped into the room.
She arched her back as she crossed the doorway threshold, accentuating her breasts and large, erect nipples, but then she stopped and turned to face me. Her long black hair flowed down each side of her magnificent twin globes, framing her deep brown areolas. I knew she was waiting for further instructions, but all I could do was marvel at the beautiful young woman’s body as she stood there, offering herself to me.
I motioned vaguely toward my bedroom and she nodded, removing her skirt as she traveled across the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, her arms behind her for support and with her legs slightly parted, revealing to me her exposed pussy and the thin manicured strip of dark brown pubic hair just above her slit. She seemed to be studying me as I slipped off my tunic, and when I crawled on to the opposite side of the bed she lay down and arched her back even more, inviting me to caress her naked breasts.
I played with her boobs and delightfully hard nipples for several minutes before working my hand down across her belly to her nether lips. By this time Danica had found my cock and had begun expertly caressing my rock-hard member. Her pubic hair was surprisingly soft, and as I ran my hand over her pussy, occasionally plunging my fingers into the soft wet recesses of her vagina, the girl rolled to her side to face me. Leaning forward, she slowly took my cock into her mouth and began working her tongue around my shaft.
Soon I was ready to mount her and she paused to await my choice of position. I got up, walked around to the near side of the bed and, grabbing her ankles, pulled her toward me. She spread her legs wide and I buried my prick deep into her tight wet pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from the girl as I impaled her. With her calves resting on my shoulders I banged her hard, and with each thrust her tits would dance madly across her chest. I grabbed her left nipple and twisted it sharply; Danica responded with a squeal and threw her arms around my neck. Again and again I would thrust, and the girl would counter by tightening her cunt muscles as if to try to capture my dick in her twat.
I was exploding now, and she squeezed her right breast as I emptied myself into her. I continued to plow my way in and out of her wet cunt, even after I had shot my wad, while the young woman gyrated and moaned with delight beneath me.
Exhausted, I withdrew and fell gasping for breath on the bed to her side. Danica repositioned and immediately began softly licking my penis, sending me into yet another dimension of pleasure. I was soon hard again and, encouraged, the woman began to aggressively service me once more using her mouth and tongue. In time I ejaculated yet again and was truly spent when I heard her softly speak.
“Do you wish me to stay or leave, Master?”
I don’t recall exactly how I answered, but the girl understood she was to leave. Quietly, my raven-haired sex slave arose, picked up her skirt, and was gone.
* * * * * * * *
I lie sprawled across my bed for almost an hour, unable to move, before finally gathering the strength to rise and shower. I had missed the formal dinner because of my delightful little tryst with the nubile brunette, but I knew I could still grab a slice of pizza or a sandwich from the snack bar at any time. Selecting a comfortable toga to wear, I slipped into some sandals and ventured downstairs to the Compound.
The on-going party was in high gear. Caribbean music filled the air and I joined a number of other Guests who had gathered to watch as a dozen or so naked teens engaged in a “limbo” exhibition for their amusement. I ordered a cocktail and stood near the perimeter of the circle as each girl in turn shuffled to the Calypso beat under the ever-lowering limbo bar. When one of the girls seemed to get stuck right under the bamboo pole, a Guest laughingly reached in and finger-fucked her where she stood, torso arched awkwardly backward, with her gaping, freshly shaved pussy on marvelous display. The girl waited patiently until he had withdrawn his fingers from her cunt before continuing, and then amid a roar of laughter from the lust-filled spectators scraped her tits on the bamboo as she finished negotiating her way under the bar. With each round of the competition the bar was lowered and, one by one, the nubile young women fell to the ground, only to be claimed immediately by a Guest. I was well into my third vodka tonic when the last female finally conceded to the limbo bar and fell laughing to the ground on her back, and as I drifted away from the gathering to discover other amusements, a tall man in a light blue robe casually walked in and stood over the girl’s nude outstretched body, rubbing his crotch as he stared down at his next sexual conquest.
I followed the mingled sounds of cheering, laughter and high-pitched squeals to a clearing on the south side of the Compound, where a handful of young women were taking turns racing back and forth across a makeshift “shooting gallery” platform as Guests hurled water balloons at them from a distance of about ten yards. I laughed along with the others as the half-drunk Guests repeatedly missed hitting their naked female “targets,” and after awhile the girls slowed their pace to make it a bit easier for the “hunters” to find them. One rather short and elderly Asian Guest had exceptionally poor aim and managed to graze the forearm of a girl only because she had come to a stop and had leaned into his poorly thrown water missile. In time, though, all of the young women had been “bagged,” and as trophies stood in the custody of a Guest. A fresh supply of water balloons and young naked women was ordered, with another round of the game soon to begin, but I decided to withdraw and head back toward the pool area.
Earlier in the day the volleyball courts would have been teeming with activity, but now they were deserted but for a few little girls quietly playing in the sand. A short heavy-set man stood watching over them, casually rubbing the front of his robe as he studied the naked children busily constructing some sort of circular wall around a rectangular sand building. The little girls seemed to be ignoring their leering observer, but when he parted his robe and exposed his cock, one of them stood and began performing fellatio while her sister child sex toys continued their play.
The bars in the Compound seemed crowded so I walked back into the lobby. A buxom topless woman quickly arrived with my vodka tonic and I gazed out over the recreational center as I sipped my drink. To my left, a little naked girl no more than eight years old sat innocently straddling the lap of a Guest, her legs spread wide, casually stroking his erect penis while he ran his hands over her smooth flat chest and belly, occasionally sliding his fingers down to caress the outer lips of her tiny hairless vagina and play with the small cherry ornament dangling between her thighs. To my right, a somewhat older girl lay on her back on a couch as another Guest licked her bald pussy while masturbating. In the distance I could see yet another young woman, naked but for a thin pink scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, repeatedly impaling herself upon a Guest seated in a large overstuffed chair.
I was contemplating which luscious female I would next like to take back with me to my quarters when suddenly Greg appeared.
“Having a good time?”
“It has indeed been an eye-opening experience,” I replied, trying – undoubtedly without success – to sound impassive.
“Listen, if you’re free tomorrow, would you like to come and visit the Nursery? Not on an official tour, but rather as one of the Guests. You can help us out with the training.”
I of course immediately accepted his invitation and he advised he would “pre-register” me with the concierge. I was to join a group in the main lobby the next morning after breakfast.
Greg said goodbye and quickly disappeared. Well, I thought, since I had a “business appointment” the next morning, I had best not stay out too late, and so I returned to the Compound for a little air and to make my selection of a bedroom playmate for the night. Amid the music and laughter of the nightly Compound party I studied the numerous attractive young women available for me to choose from, and I set eyes upon a lovely young brown-headed girl with small breasts, slim hips, and a nice little round ass standing all alone, idly gazing into the water from one of the many walkways that bridge the swimming pool. She was wearing only a short black “fish net” pull-over blouse, and the garment was not quite long enough to completely cover her ass or the lips of her smooth bald pussy. Her firm red nipples poked through the mesh of her blouse in a most enticing way and I just knew I had to fuck her.
The girl’s name was Meggan, and I would learn later that she was thirteen years old. Perfect, I thought, and I engaged her immediately as my bedroom toy for the night.