Dressed in a loose-fitting light blue terry cloth robe, I joined a couple of dozen similarly attired men in the lobby of the resort shortly before 9:00 a.m. Most of the gathering of Guests sat quietly sipping tea or coffee, but a few Asian men – Chinese, I think – sat huddled together talking in subdued tones broken only by brief sporadic outbursts of laughter. Their conversation was not in English and I did not understand what they were saying, but from their gestures I suspected that each was in turn recounting to the others his most recent sexual adventure.
Greg arrived soon after the hour wearing a white Roman-style tunic with gold trim. Once he had taken a head count of the “Nursery Volunteers” he escorted us down a service corridor and out a door on the western side of the building to where a series of open buggies, lashed together to form a train hitched to an old jeep, awaited us. We rode past the dining room and storage facilities and out across the wide expanse of the playground area, and in the distance I could see a number of naked little girls playing in the sun, each completely indifferent to our passing caravan.
We eased to a stop near an entrance on the northern side of the Nursery, and Greg motioned to us all to exit. The shuttle train departed, heading back to the hotel for the next party of “educational assistants,” and we were formed into two groups. My group, with Greg as our guide, was soon led down a hallway and into a brightly lit room furnished with a dozen or so student desks arranged neatly in rows. Scattered across most of these desks were assorted pencils and paper, and an open book lay precariously close to the edge on one of the desks suggesting that the room had been abandoned quite suddenly. In the front sat a simple teacher’s desk and chair, and on the wall behind the chair hung a large chalkboard stretching nearly the width of the room. Above the chalkboard was a long narrow poster illustrating the proper formation of upper and lower case block lettering, and in the far corner a television monitor had been placed atop a tall metal rack, with a videocassette/DVD player on a shelf below. In most respects, I thought, this room was identical to any children’s classroom one would see in a typical American grammar school.
But of course this was not an ordinary grammar school classroom. All along the back wall were several large color posters displaying pictures of adult male genitalia, circumcised and uncircumcised, in various stages of sexual arousal, and a series of comfortable chairs had been lined up against the near wall. Most of the Guests had obviously visited the Nursery on prior occasions and migrated quickly to the chairs; the rest of us followed only at Greg’s invitation. Once we had all been seated Greg stepped outside the room, but he returned shortly thereafter and eased himself into one of the remaining chairs stationed against the wall.
We were there only briefly before a stream of little girls entered the room followed by their teacher, a tall thin man in his mid-30s wearing a light blue jumpsuit. As each child passed before the line of seated observers, she would glance in our direction and smile before taking a seat behind her desk.
Most of the little girls were naked, although a few wore abbreviated skirts like the one Mica had worn to her examination, and each displayed the ubiquitous gold chain and bright red ceramic ornament of childhood below her vaginal lips. I found it amusing to watch as several of the children, squirming in their seats, would spread their legs and casually play with their ornaments, seemingly oblivious to the lusty stares of their visitors.
“Now, girls, it’s time for our lesson,” Teacher announced in a soothing voice. “But first, let’s not forget to thank our guests for helping us this morning.”
“Thank you, Masters!” a chorus of young female voices responded in unison. I had to smile in amazement: An entire roomful of six-year-old girls thanking me for granting to them the opportunity to suck my dick. The scene was quite surreal.
“All right, then,” continued Teacher. Several of the girls started to leave their seats. “Now, remember, today we’ll be concentrating on pleasing the testicles and base of the penis.” A flurry of sound and movement followed as the children bolted from their chairs and raced toward us.
A little naked Caucasian girl with a round face, long light brown hair and bright blue eyes suddenly appeared and flopped to her knees before me. She leaned back a bit, resting her arms on her thighs, beaming a proud smile upward and revealing the gap created by a recently lost milk tooth. With her legs spread slightly apart, I could see the top portion of her hairless slit and her small red ornament as it rested on the floor beneath the lips of her vagina.
Teacher announced to the class that they could begin their lesson, and my little student leaned forward and began carefully parting my robe. She gingerly took my shaft in her tiny left hand and, dropping her head downward and to the side, began lightly licking my balls, starting first at the bottom, then working her tongue up to the base of my cock before slowly moving back downward to repeat. Occasionally the little girl would stroke my penis while massaging my testicles with her lips, but she would soon abandon her gentle masturbation and I would retreat from an approaching orgasm to further savor the waves of pleasure the child was generating in my groin with her young tongue.
I could hear Teacher vaguely in the distance, calmly offering words of encouragement and praise to his pupils amid his reminders to “check your Master’s status, girls,” but I was all but lost in the sexual ecstasy created by the naked little girl stationed between my legs.
Just how long the child spent caressing my balls with her tongue I cannot say. She began stroking my swollen shaft again, this time a bit faster, and as I approached my climax I could feel her thumb brushing over the tip of my cock. My orgasm was imminent, and the little girl abandoned my testicles and plunged the tip of my penis into her mouth, working her tongue around and around my knob as she rhythmically moved her head back and forth in my lap. I lightly slid my fingers through her soft brown hair and she responded by burying her face even deeper into my groin.
Suddenly I exploded, spraying jism all over the back of the little girl’s throat. She gagged and withdrew my throbbing member from her mouth, still coughing. I fired again, splashing her cheek with my cum. Quickly she stuck my penis back into her mouth and began sucking while attempting to use her shoulder to wipe away the semen on her face.
I was spent, but the little girl continued her blow job. My erection was failing and I gently pushed her forehead away. She looked up at me, a troubled look on her face. “I’m sorry, Master,” she whimpered. I looked down to her, a trickle of my semen still dripping from her cheek, and assured her that she had performed splendidly. With that, her countenance brightened and she gleefully leaned forward again to lick the tip of my penis in search of any remaining drops of my orgasm.
I glanced to my side, where two bare-chested little girls were still aggressively giving head, and I felt my dick once more begin to swell. “May I serve you again, Master?” my little student asked hopefully. “No, you’ve done fine” was all I could muster in response, and the girl returned to kissing the tip of my organ.
In time all of the Guests had been satisfied and our visit to the Nursery had concluded. Teacher marched his little pupils out of the room to wash and Greg led us outside to the shuttle train to rejoin the other Nursery volunteers. We rode back to the main complex in silence, each of us savoring the memories of the delightful oral sex we had just received from Cynthia’s babies, and upon our arrival Greg guided us back up the hall and out through the swinging doors leading into the lobby. Another group of robed men had already gathered there, impatiently awaiting the return of the shuttle to take them to the Nursery for their opportunity to “assist” in the instruction of yet more young females in the art of performing fellatio.
* * * * * * * *
Ever since I had witnessed little Mica’s gynecological examination, I had very much looked forward to my scheduled Tuesday afternoon interview with Dr. George. He had suggested we get together in the recreational parlor of the resort rather than his office, but I was concerned the ambient noise might play havoc with my recording equipment. He assured me, though, that a quiet spot could be found and so I had agreed to meet with him there after lunch.
Shortly before 1:30 p.m. Dr. George joined me near the concierge and together we walked across the large hotel lobby. At his urging I had abandoned my Western apparel in favor of a comfortable, loose-fitting robe like the other Guests wore, but although I felt somewhat awkward wearing such informal attire to conduct the interview, the good doctor seemed genuinely pleased to see that I had “gone Native,” as he put it.
We were soon standing before the entrance to one of the numerous cubicles that line the far northern wall of the recreational center. Each of these cubicles offers a choice of two large, comfortable chairs or a full-length couch along the back wall. A small folding table separates the chairs, and I placed my tape recorder on top of it while we each took a seat. Dr. George suddenly stood back up and, leaning toward the front, closed the two saloon-style "half-doors," of the cubicle, offering to us a bit more privacy and quiet.
One’s first impression of Dr. George is that of an exceptionally powerful and intelligent man. Standing very tall and lean, with thick black hair, wire-rimmed bi-focal glasses, a full “salt and pepper” beard, and wearing the dark trousers and seemingly obligatory white smock of his profession, he looks like a serious medical physician.
And indeed he is, but Dr. George also possesses a wry sense of humor that becomes evident as he casually describes his role within the organization. “I’m simply a mechanic,” he says with a smile. “I keep the machines running smoothly.”
Like Greg, Dr. George is a very wealthy man with little need for personal spending money. Over the years he, as well as the other Partners, has been an extremely generous “anonymous” donor to numerous private and public colleges, universities and research facilities, as well as to countless other medical, cultural, and humanitarian causes. Ironically, he and the others have contributed significant sums to various international organizations dedicated to the advancement of women, and although they espouse no particular political opinions, the Partners have given rather liberally to many – often even conflicting – political parties and movements. “Sometimes,” he confessed with a sheepish grin, “we’ve got to do it just to appease one of the Guests.”
Also like Greg, Dr. George seldom leaves the island. “Too much hassle,” he explains. “Besides, what’s out there that I can’t get here?” He is right, of course, for the resort offers practically anything and everything a man might ever need or want. For many years, however, Dr. George has been an avid golfer and on those rare occasions when he does travel, he delights in visiting the world’s finest and most prestigious golf courses. “I always travel with my golf clubs,” he told me with a big smile, “and I’ll have already mapped out which courses I’ll be playing long before the plane has even touched down.” When pressed, he could not name for me his “favorite” golfing venue, but he laughingly told me that the strangest course he had ever played had been with some local “resort associates” in Dubai, where – because of the intense daytime desert heat – he and the others played exclusively at night beneath hundreds of bright flood lights. “Now that was weird. And talk about your sand traps!” Although he usually has some duties to which he must attend each day at the resort, the good doctor assured me that he is never extremely busy – “except maybe when we get in a new crop of girls” – and thus he possesses more than enough time to enjoy the amenities available at Island Royale, which for him include almost daily trips to the golf course. Usually he plays the course with off-duty male resort personnel or with Island Royale Guests, but occasionally, he told me with a grin – “only when [Greg] feels like getting humiliated” – with the resort’s Managing Partner.
My recent experience with the lovely little ten-year-old Mica offered an appropriate beginning for our interview.
* * * * * * * *
Question: I must say I was amazed at how well you kept your composure during yesterday’s examination. I don’t think I could have maintained my concentration, playing with a little girl’s vagina like that.
Answer: (Laughing) Well, I guess that’s the downside of being chief medical officer here at Island Royale. After awhile, you get a bit blasé about female genitalia.
Oh, occasionally I’ll still get really horny and fuck a girl right there on the table. Usually, though, I just do the exam and send ‘em on their way.
Look, when you’re surrounded by naked pussy all day, it just doesn’t seem all that special anymore.
Q: And is it like that for the others as well?
A: I think that’s probably true for Greg, because he spends as much time here as I do, and for the other guys on the administrative staff too, I would guess. That’s certainly not true for John-Boy and Alexis, though, because they don’t get here all that often. When those guys come to the island, they really want to “party down” while they’re here.
Cynthia, of course, isn’t interested at all in the special amenities available here at the resort.
Q: I assume Cynthia is straight, then.
A: You know, it’s funny, but I really don’t know for sure. She may be bi-sexual, as far as I know. She really doesn’t seem all that interested in any sexual activity, straight or gay.
(Chuckling) She’s probably the most “professional” one of all of us. She seems only to be interested in training our girls to behave and perform properly.
Q: That seems such a tragedy. Sexual Boredom while surrounded by beautiful naked women, all eager to please.
A: Hey, we’re not all monks here! Of course we sometimes fuck the girls. It’s just not the overriding priority for us like it is for the Guests.
And it wasn’t always like that. Heck, years ago me and Greg would each routinely take one or two – sometimes even three of the girls – back with us at night to party. But that was years ago. We’re both a lot older now, and frankly I can’t “get it up” as often as I did back then. One or two fucks and a few blow jobs a week is about all I can handle anymore.
I don’t keep track, of course, but I suspect that’s Greg’s average as well.
Q: But you say that’s not true for John-Boy and Alexis.
A: Definitely not true for them. Those guys are “on the road” most of the time.
They can’t fuck the recruits – heck, they’re only four or five years old and probably have never even seen a guy’s dick, let alone received the training to know what to do with one – and the guys don’t dare fuck a local for fear they’ll catch something. So the only time those guys get laid is when they make it back here.
Q: And how often is that?
A: Oh, I don’t know. Alexis gets back about once every two or three months or so, I would guess. John-Boy tends to visit a bit more often. But neither of them usually can stay for more than a week or so before they have to leave again.
Q: Well, let’s get back to your specialty: Medicine. How often do you check the girls?
A: It depends a lot on how old they are. A little girl, like the one we did yesterday, I’ll tend to want to look at every couple of months or so to monitor her physical development. We want to have these girls available for vaginal intercourse just as soon as they’re ripe. Once she’s been approved for full sexual service, I’ll maybe only see a girl once a year for a general check-up. Unless, of course, she complains to somebody that she isn’t feeling well.
Q: I thought these girls were all pretty well insulated from disease.
A: And they are, but even so a naked broad can still catch herself a chest cold every once in awhile. (He smiles at his joke.)
Actually, all of our “medical problems” here tend to be rather minor. A cold here, a vaginal yeast infection there. And of course we have our usual share of cuts and bruises. On the whole, though, the sick rooms in the infirmary are rarely occupied. I’m really proud to say that we’ve never had a serious injury or an outbreak of contagious disease – sexually transmitted or otherwise – in our entire 37-plus years of operation. And I mean to keep it that way.
Q: You mean you have never had a medical crisis here?
A: We did have this one old fart once that keeled over from a heart attack after fucking a bitch. Couldn’t save him. Greg had to do some quick scrambling to get him back to the Philippines so’s it would look like he died while visiting some bullshit pineapple plantation or something. That was kind of weird. The girl he was with at the time was really freaked out about it. (Chuckling) The cunt didn’t know a man could actually die!
We had to sell her off really quick. Too bad, ‘cause she was pretty good looking as I recall and could really give good head.
That’s why we check out a Guest’s overall physical health now before we issue him a boarding pass to the island. We don’t want something like that happening again if we can avoid it.
Q: What about the girls? Greg told me about one girl who you had diagnosed as having breast cancer.
A: Umm. Don’t recall that.
Oh, I know what he was talking about. No, that bitch had leukemia. You know, blood cancer. But that wasn’t really a “medical crisis” for us. Just an unfortunate inconvenience. Leukemia isn’t contagious. Nobody was at risk. We just had to get rid of her is all.
Q: Yes, he told me how you did so.
A: (Dr. George shrugs his shoulders.) Well, we had to do something with the cunt. She wasn’t any good to us and we sure couldn’t sell her off like that.
We toyed with the idea of giving her over to some guys to use in the Dungeon, but decided it would be too messy for us to clean up once they were through playing with her. And we couldn’t be sure the other girls wouldn’t find out about what happened to her. So we decided the best thing to do was to simply dump her in the ocean. (Chuckling) “Burial at sea” and all that.
Q: You mentioned before that you don’t need to examine a woman very often once she’s been approved for “full sexual service.” When does that occur? Take the girl from yesterday, for example. You said she accepted over 4 ½ inches of the phallus. How soon will she be available for vaginal intercourse?
A: Well, that girl actually still has got a ways to go yet. At just past 4 ½ inches I was already starting to press on what’s left of her cervix.
Q: What do you mean, “what’s left of her cervix?”
A: I try to get each girl spayed within a couple of months or so of her arrival. The sooner the better, really, so her training isn’t delayed.
There are obviously different ways of sterilizing a female, but I prefer doing a supracervical hysterectomy. It’s a pretty straight-forward procedure, with minimal risk of infection. I can’t do a vaginal hysterectomy on a girl that young because her pussy just isn’t big enough for me to get in there, but the incisions from a supracervical hysterectomy tend to heal leaving very little scarring.
Anyway, what you do is slice into her belly and yank out her ovaries and uterus. All that’s left of the cervix, really, is a little stump at the end of her vaginal canal, but it helps keep her snatch wet and the inside lining of her twat from dropping down.
(Laughing) Ya sure can’t fuck ‘em very well if their pussy’s falling out!
Q: So how long will it be before that girl from yesterday is available for vaginal sex?
A: Well, she’s still got some growing up to do before her cunt will be big enough to handle a full-sized cock on a regular basis.
I just don’t feel comfortable authorizing a slave to be pussy-fucked until she can take at least 5 ½ inches of dick up her twat without a problem. Off hand, I’d guess that girl’s snatch will be ready for general service in the Compound in about 12-14 months or so – maybe just before her twelfth birthday.
Q: She seemed very excited about her progress.
A: Very typical reaction for a girl that age.
Keep in mind, she’s been used by our Guests now for well over five years, giving blow jobs and the like, and she’s been in the Compound for more than two years, watching the older bitches being mounted every day. It’s only natural then that she looks forward to when she, too, can finally spread her legs and get laid.
Look, you’ve got to remember that Island Royale is not your typical whorehouse. These girls live to sexually service men. They’re taught here that creatures with pussies just aren’t any good for anything else, and that the only reason they exist is to entertain and please their masters. They’re trained to use their bodies to provide men pleasure, but the gashes don’t really recognize that they’re performing intimate sexual acts with our Guests. All they understand is that they are to be available at all times of the day or night, to be used how ever their masters might wish to use them.
Heck, these girls have only a very primitive understanding of the concept of gender.
Q: I don’t follow.
A: Our sex staff doesn’t think in terms of “male” and “female.” I’m not even sure they think of themselves as “human.”
To these girls, men are exotic, omnipotent “Magical Beings.” Magical, because they have a dick, of course – heck, these girls all think a guy’s dick has special “magical” properties the way it enlarges, hardens, and shoots out special liquid – but also because, as far as the slaves are concerned, men magically appear from nowhere, have their dicks serviced, and then vanish just as mysteriously.
Obviously, a girl doesn’t have a dick and from the moment she arrives here she is told that she is therefore nothing more than a domesticated animal, kept as a pet for our amusement. The girls here at Island Royale are all instructed that men are their natural Masters, and that a female’s sole purpose in life is to serve – and service – men and their dicks. Our slaves think more like a dog does, actually. A dog obeys her master’s command to “fetch” or “roll over” or something because the dog is trained to do what her master tells her. So are these girls. They’re all trained here how to use their bodies to please their masters. They have no idea even that sex is involved in procreation.
If you ask one of these women out in the Compound where babies come from, she’ll tell you that her masters pluck them from the sky and deposit them into the Nursery. And if you ask her what a baby looks like, she’ll tell you a baby looks a lot like her, except that a baby is smaller and has a flat chest. If you ask her what a baby boy looks like, she won’t know what you’re talking about. Heck, these girls have never even seen a picture of a prepubescent male.
None of these women can ever get pregnant, of course, and they’ve never seen a pregnant woman. They’ve never seen a woman breast-feed an infant. You ask one of these girls what her tits are for, and she’ll tell you that they’re toys for Guests to play with.
(Chuckling) Every one of these cunts is completely clueless about human reproduction.
Q: That’s incredible.
A: Not really, if you stop and think about it a bit.
Look, for thousands of years people thought the world was flat. Why? Because all they could see was a flat world. The concept of a round world was totally outside their ability to experience or understand. Even today, the only reason most people know the world is round is because that’s what they’ve been told. If they’d never heard that, they’d still think the world was flat.
Or take the case of a bunch of anthropologists or whatever who stumble upon some previously unknown tribe in New Guinea or some other remote, isolated place. Now the natives may have some vague notion that they're not totally alone, based on a few encounters over the years with neighboring tribes, but they have absolutely no idea that there are billions of technologically advanced people in the world. If those anthropologists decide to pull out a few trinkets – a Bic lighter, say, or maybe your tape recorder here, for example – the tribesmen will take them for magical gods. And if the anthropologists were to tell these tribesmen that their village really was one of the few human outposts on the planet, the tribesmen would believe them. Why? Because the “gods” would simply be confirming to them what they already “knew” to be true.
The females here at Island Royale have never been told the Earth is round – they’ve never been told there are billions of women in the world who do not exist merely as pleasure toys. Rather, they’ve been taught that all creatures with pussies are kept in camps like this and do nothing but fuck. They simply don’t know anything else.
Q: But don’t they ask questions?
A: Nope. It’s never come up.
Q: But how do you explain to them the departure of one of your “culls?”
A: Ah, well, that’s pretty easy. Our girls think Island Royale is just one of a number of places scattered around the world where females are housed for the purpose of servicing men’s dicks. When a woman gets too old for us here, or if we decide a girl’s not good looking enough for us to keep, we simply tell her she’s been “re-assigned” to another camp, or maybe that a new camp has opened and that we need to stock it. We pack ‘em in the bus, take ‘em to the airstrip, and they happily climb aboard the airplane.
Q: When do they learn differently?
A: I don’t know. You’d really have to ask the other partners – the guys that take them away. I gather, though, that most of the younger girls don’t figure it out until they’re already on the ground and put into service in a brothel. The older women probably figure it out a bit sooner.
Even so, most of these bitches will still be good for a few years or more of regular service after we’ve gotten rid of them.
Q: What happens then?
A: Well, by that time most of them will get sick and die.
A: Some of them will, of course, especially if they’ve been shipped off to Cambodia or India. Mostly, though, they’ll die from some silly disease like the flu, or measles or something. Childhood diseases you and I had no problem with, but of course our girls never get exposed to any of those diseases while they’re here and therefore never get the chance to build up any immunities to them.
Q: Couldn’t you vaccinate?
A: What’s the point? After a few years of fucking five or six dirty little locals every day, those cunts who aren’t too sick to get up will have seen enough of the “outside world” to know that not all females are sex slaves. They’ll try to escape.
Q: And do they succeed?
A: I doubt it. They know so little about the “outside world” and have no idea where to run away to. I suppose a few may have gotten away over the years, but almost all of them are soon captured and returned.
(Chuckling) John-Boy told me once about some stupid Norwegian bitch who tried to escape and ran out, stark naked, into the streets of Calcutta. What a dumb cunt. She had absolutely no idea a tall naked blonde would draw a crowd! Obviously, they grabbed her and brought her back rather quickly.
A girl might survive her first unsuccessful escape attempt – you know, get a severe whipping from her owner or something – but she’ll never survive a second try.
Q: Her owner will kill her?
A: Oh, no, no, no. He’s got way too much money tied up in her to simply slit her throat. Nah, her owner will sell her to a broker who specializes in the sex torture racket for later sale to one of his customers. Believe me, there’s a lot of money to be made making and selling videos of women being slowly tortured to death.
Q: You’re talking about so-called “snuff films.”
A: Well, yeah, but not your standard snuff film, although I suppose a few of the lucky ones might wind up starring in a traditional snuff film.
Q: You say “lucky ones?”
A: Yeah. Your typical snuff film is rather short – maybe a fifteen to twenty-minute “one-reeler.” They’ll flip on the camera, drag a girl in and fuck her while she’s being strangled or stabbed or something. Not much imagination there.
No, these guys are true perverts. They get off videotaping girls being slowly tortured, usually sexually. Hours on end. Several sessions over a period of days or even weeks. The girls are begging to be killed near the end of one of these sessions. But they won’t do it. They’ll torture her until she passes out. Then, after she’s rested a bit, they’ll wake her up and start in all over again. The poor bitch may live like that for weeks before they finally get bored enough to kill her.
Vaginal impalement, usually.
A: Yeah. Vaginal impalement is quite a popular way of finally putting a poor girl out of her misery. They’ll suspend her above a long skinny metal pole with a sharp tip on the end, stick the tip up her twat, and then slowly lower her over the course of a few hours or so.
Q: I can’t imagine….
A: We have quite a few videos available here for our Guests if you care to watch them. I’ll warn you, though. They’re pretty gruesome. I’d certainly recommend you turn off the sound. Frankly, I’m not much into sex torture. I can’t watch more than a few minutes before I start feeling sick. Greg’s the same way.
It’s funny, though; these vids are sometimes very popular, particularly among our Arab Guests, and especially if the “featured attraction” is European or Indian.
* * * * * * * *
At this point in our interview, Dr. George’s pager suddenly began to chirp. Glancing down to flip a switch he said, “Listen, it’s probably nothing, but I’d better go take a look. I won’t be gone long. Why don’t you wait here and we can pick it up again when I get back.” With that, the doctor casually arose from his chair and exited the cubicle, leaving the half-doors fully opened.
I looked out into the recreation parlor. To my far left two Guests were playing pool with a stunning brunette dressed in a red, silky low-cut evening gown with matching high-heeled shoes. As she would lean over to make her shot, the young woman’s tits would hang tantalizingly, and when she would again straighten, her dress would slip from her shoulder, fully exposing her breast. She would make no immediate effort to adjust her gown while she watched the billiard balls roll across the table and would only reposition her garment as she prepared for her next shot.
Pretty tame scene, I thought. I supposed these Guests needed some “recovery time” following their most recent sexual liaison. Or perhaps the gorgeous brunette was to be the “trophy” awarded to the Guest who prevailed in the billiards contest. I pondered briefly what the girl’s prize might be were she to win the game, but from the quality of her play I could see that a female victory was highly unlikely indeed.
My eyes drifted toward the center of the room, where I could see the bare ass of a young girl peeking out from beneath the tunic of a large black man in his early forties. He was obviously enjoying the blow job he was receiving, and from the frantic movements of the girl’s telltale virginal cherry swinging between her legs, she seemed to be enjoying herself as well. I wondered if the child might be Mica, but concluded that this girl’s ass was much wider than that of the slim-hipped prepubescent female who had so expertly sucked my dick the previous day.
An attractive girl of about fifteen years, quite slender and with long light brown hair falling well past her shoulders and down across her bare chest, half-hiding her nipples, appeared at my door. As she stood there wordlessly seeking an invitation to enter, my eyes slipped further down to the narrow strip of short-cropped hair between her legs. Without knowing how much longer Dr. George would be, though, I had to sadly shake my head and wave her on. She seemed genuinely disappointed as she moved away from the cubicle.
I returned my gaze to the center of the room, where in the distance I could see a boisterous game of “Twister” well in progress. A small gathering of Guests looked on as five young naked girls, many with their legs spread wide displaying delightful strips of pink between their bald nether lips, jockeyed for position above the brightly-colored dots on the floor. Ah, I thought: The innocence (and flexibility!) of youth. I faintly heard a female voice call something out, and the young girls began frantically shifting their positions. One girl fell to the floor amid the cheers of the spectators, and soon I saw her in the company of one of the Guests, her small fresh tits bobbing ever so slightly as she walked away holding his hand.
By this time the pressure in my groin had become intense. As I tried to concentrate on the notes spread out before me, I found myself unconsciously slipping my hand below the small table to massage and pinch my swollen cock. I really wanted to mount one of the girls in the recreational center but knew I needed to await the good doctor’s return. Again I attempted to focus on my journalistic obligations, but soon again discovered myself rubbing my engorged penis beneath the soft cloth of my light blue robe.
I suddenly became aware of a small naked Asian girl standing in the doorway of my cubicle. She was almost completely flat-chested but possessed amazingly long thick nipples, and as she held the cubicle doors open to fully display her body before me I glanced down to her bald pussy and was surprised to see no chain or bright red cherry swinging between her thighs. One of Dr. George’s more recently authorized “full service females,” I surmised.
The throbbing in my cock was becoming unbearable by now, and I was obsessed with the idea of discovering just how far up into this tiny girl’s slit I could ram it. I started to motion her into my cubicle when Dr. George abruptly reappeared.
“Am I intruding?” he asked coyly. With a wave of my hand I sent my little China Doll away and Dr. George sunk back into his chair. “Sorry about that. Minor emergency,” he said. “Some stupid gash twisted her ankle playing volleyball. She’ll be good to go again tomorrow. I wasn’t really needed, but these bitches get so melodramatic about everything. All I did was tape her up and comfort her a bit.”
“What did you do to comfort her?” I asked with a slight laugh. “Let her suck my dick. Women around here just don’t feel like they’re worth anything unless they can make a man come.”
“Now then,” continued Dr. George. “Where were we?”
* * * * * * * *
Q: I believe we had been discussing what happens to a woman once she is no longer of interest to you here at the resort. How long can a sex slave expect to remain at Island Royale?
A: Obviously, it depends a lot on the girl.
Almost all of them will stay here at least until they start sprouting some tits, but if it’s clear to us that the gash will never be pretty enough to use in the Compound, we may ship her out as soon as she finishes Graduate School. And we’re always reviewing our inventory of pussy, selling the older or less attractive ones as the Nursery empties. Heck, we sometimes have had to dump some real “hotties” simply because we didn’t have enough room for them!
Even the good-looking ones, though, tend to gain weight as they grow older, particularly in the thighs, stomach, and ass. Oh, sure, we do maintain some, shall we say “Full Figured Females,” but that’s because some of our Guests prefer to fuck a woman with some “meat” on her. They describe fucking a skinny girl as like fucking a broom. But by and large, most of our women are young and well proportioned. We don’t tolerate much flab around here. We maintain a rigorous exercise program to retard that fat accumulation – and watching the girls’ diet helps too, of course. The bitches swim quite a bit. Swimming, incidentally, is a great form of exercise for both men and women.
But there’s only so much we can do, and so – to answer your question – by the time one of our women reaches her late twenties, usually her tits will have begun to sag, her pussy will no longer be tight, and she may even have started to develop some cellulite in her ass. Very few of our cunts stay in the Compound past their mid-twenties. Maybe a few will get permanently assigned to maintenance work but most will have been traded in for “newer models” long before they turn thirty.
Q: You mentioned monitoring the sex staff’s diet. Don’t the women eat what the Guests eat?
A: Certainly not! Well, except for when a Guest chooses to bring a girl with him to the dining room.
Our Guests dine on very fine foods and beverages. We don’t want to feed that to our girls, though. We’d have a harem full of fatties in no time! No, the sex staff is fed much more sensible meals than those we serve our Guests.
Q: I did see a woman dining with a Guest, though.
A: Sure, if that’s what the Guest wanted. Above all, our slaves are taught to obey the wishes of their Master.
(Laughing) Usually, though, the only time you can count on a guy not wanting sex is when he’s eating.
We don’t have enough tables to seat all of our Guests at once, so like they do on cruise ships, we serve meals in groups. The girls also eat in shifts, so there are always some females available in the Compound.
Q: Don’t the girls resent the fact that they don’t get the same quality of food as the Guests?
A: On the contrary. They would much rather not eat what the Guests are served. Believe me, that bitch you saw the other night really would rather have been eating dinner with the other girls.
A: (Chuckling) Because she knows she’ll pay for it the next day, doing extra laps in the pool or something to burn off those extra calories!
In all probability, the bitch you saw didn’t eat all that much. Well, she didn’t eat much food, anyway. She probably spent far more time eating the guy’s dick then she did eating dinner.
Q: That’s true. She did seem to spend most of her time under the table.
A: We don’t actually discourage a Guest from taking one of our sex staff into the dining room, but we certainly don’t encourage the practice either. Frankly, I think most of the other Guests get annoyed if a girl is brought to the table.
Q: So the women try to steer clear of the rich food available to the Guests.
A: Yes. And that goes for the alcohol, too. If you see a girl in the Compound with a drink in her hand, I can almost guarantee she’s drinking water, iced tea, or some non-caloric soft drink. We will not tolerate an intoxicated female around here.
Q: Surely over the years you’ve had girls get drunk, though.
A: Not really that often, actually. There have been occasions over the years, but in fairness, most of those girls were forced to drink by the Guest she was with at the time.
We’ve taught these girls since long before they’ve left the Nursery that they’re not supposed to drink any booze unless required to do so by a Guest. Even then, though, the bar staff puts very little alcohol in the drinks they provide to the slaves. We don’t punish the girls who are forced to drink, obviously, but we’ve dealt harshly with the others.
A: Well, let’s just say they each got a long and very private session in the Dungeon, conducted by Senior Administrators. Believe me: After we were finished with them, they never wanted to take a sip of booze again.
Q: You tortured them.
A: Let’s just say that none of the girls were “available” in the Compound for several days afterward.
Q: Ouch. Tell me, is that how you deal with all of your disciplinary problems here?
A: As a matter of fact, we seldom have had any disciplinary problems, at least since we abandoned our early practice of hiring prostitutes to serve our guests.
Oh, sure, over the years we have had a few girls – really crazy ones – who just couldn’t get along with anybody. Arguments with the Guests; catfights with other girls over the silliest of things and so forth – you know. But we didn’t need to deal with them in the Dungeon. We just shipped them out.
Q: What happened to them?
A: Oh, I don’t know. We don’t keep track of the females once they’ve left the resort. Regardless of where they ended up, though, I doubt any of them lasted very long unless they really changed their attitude quickly. The guys that buy these girls want to put them in service immediately and they won’t tolerate any misbehavior. Heck, one of those crazies we dumped was a little Vietnamese cunt only eight when we sold her. She probably didn’t even survive her first month of fucking.
Q: Because of her age?
A: Yeah. An eight-year-old’s twat is just way too small. Heck, you were with me yesterday when I tested out – What’s-her-name, uh, Mica? – What did she take? 4? 4 ½ inches?
Q: I believe it was a little more than 4 ½ inches.
A: And she’s ten years old. And my little dildo tests are conducted under extremely controlled conditions. Asian girls are generally smaller than Europeans, too. Can you imagine the damage to a little girl’s insides if she’s suddenly forced to have eight or nine big dicks shoved up her cunt each day? Yet her new owner probably put her into service as soon as he bought her.
Those Asian pimps are such pigs. They don’t give a shit about their girls. I’ll bet the little bitch bled to death within weeks of her arrival. Such a waste of good pussy.
Q: Well, it is obvious that the girls here at Island Royale are treated considerably better. You monitor their physical development. Do you also supervise the Nursery?
A: Nope, that’s Cynthia’s department. All I do is keep track of their physical development as the girls approach puberty. I do, though, supervise the Graduate School.
Q: The “Graduate School?” You mentioned that earlier. What is it, exactly?
A: (Smiling) Call it a girl’s “Rite of Passage” into adulthood – a ritual we put all of the slaves through when they become of age. Two weeks of intense sexual training once we “pop her cherry” and prepare to make her available for vaginal intercourse on a regular basis.
When I decide a girl is old enough to be pussy-fucked, we’ll pull her out of the Compound and park her in the Graduate School for a couple of weeks. We’ll teach her quite a variety of sexual positions and get her familiar with the feel of having a dick in her cunt – and up her ass.
Q: And you can do all of that in just two weeks?
A: Yeah, generally two weeks. A few girls may stay in the Graduate School a bit longer, but we can usually teach a girl all she really needs to know about fucking in about two weeks.
Now, mind you, we don’t study every page of the Kama Sutra. But our Guests do expect our slaves to know more than simply “the good ol’ Missionary Position.”
Q: But even so, two weeks is not a lot of time.
A: Well, remember that these girls will have been out in the Compound for years watching the older bitches getting mounted. By the time she’s ready to enter the Graduate School, believe me, a young girl of eleven or twelve pretty much already knows “what goes where and when.”
Plus, all of these girls are very eager to learn. They’re all quite excited about their first chance to take a cock up their pussy.
Q: May I see the Graduate School?
A: Sure, if you want to. But there really isn’t all that much to see. Just a simple bed.
Unfortunately, at the moment we don’t have any students in the Graduate School. Too bad, really. We’re always in need of some “Visiting Professors” whenever we have a graduate student.
Q: What does a “Visiting Professor” do?
A: (Laughing) He fucks the girl, of course! Fucking is about all a girl does in Graduate School. Fucking and sucking off different guys all day.
During a girl’s two-week stay in the Graduate School, we’ll screw her ten, twelve, maybe even fourteen times a day. Heck, she’ll get mounted at least twice before she’s even had breakfast! Believe me: After a girl’s been laid a couple of hundred times during that two-week period, she’s pretty well ready to handle whatever a Guest might want to do with her.
And that’s why we need “Visiting Professors.” Years ago, me, Greg and the other guys on the staff did all the “tutoring,” but (laughing again) it’s getting harder and harder for us to screw these girls as often as they need to be fucked – no pun intended. That’s why we’ve taken to enlisting the aid of some of our Guests. Our “Visiting Professors.” Most are happy to oblige us – I mean, who hasn’t dreamed of sticking his cock into a tight little bald pre-teen pussy?
I usually give the girl her very first fuck, because she’s used to having me fingering her snatch and because I want to make absolutely sure her cunt is big enough to accommodate a full-sized cock. The dildo tests are good, but they’re no substitute for a good old penis, and… well, I’m all right in that department, if you know what I mean.
After that, it’s Greg, other resort administrators, and whoever else we can draft to fuck her. A girl will get mighty acquainted with quite a variety of hard dicks during those two weeks of Graduate School training.
And, during the second week of her stay, we’ll usually start having her wear a plug up her ass to kind of stretch her out a bit and get her ready for butt fucking. Some of our guests really get off fucking a bitch in the ass, and we usually need to spread a girl out a little. Girls that age typically don’t have an anus anywhere big enough.
Q: And then after just two weeks she’s released back into the Compound?
A: Yep. She’s on her own. Oh, we’ll probably keep an eye on her during her first day or so, but by and large once a female leaves the Graduate School, she’s pretty well prepared for her life as a full-service sex slave.
Q: Thank you, Dr. George. You’ve been extremely helpful.
A: You’re quite welcome. So tell me, what’s up next for you?
Q: Well, I guess I should get ready for my interview with Cynthia tomorrow afternoon. But to be honest with you, at the moment I’d kind of like to try to catch up with that little China Doll you saw earlier.
A: I’d say, “Go for it, Dude!” If not with your little China Doll, then with some other sweet young thing out there. You’ve got all week, man. Enjoy yourself!
Let’s see. You say you’re meeting with Cynthia tomorrow afternoon, right? If you want, stop by afterward and I’ll show you the Graduate School “classroom,” such as it is.
Oh, and let me do some checking. I think we may have a graduate student available soon.
* * * * * * * *
It was early Tuesday evening and I lie sprawled across my bed, physically exhausted but feeling more relaxed than I had felt in years. My little Chinese bed partner, Jo, reclined at my side, resting her head on my arm, gently massaging my semi-erect penis with her tiny fingers as I casually played with her long firm left nipple. I recalled with a smile Dr. George’s earlier words of encouragement and had headed into the Compound in search of the girl immediately following the conclusion of our interview. To my delight I had found the little China Doll relaxing in a chaise longue, her legs spread wide, tanning her milky-white thighs and tight little bald pussy beneath the warm tropical sun while she patiently awaited her next session with a Guest. I had lost no time in acquiring her for my use.
Despite her flat chest, hairless vulva and other child-like features, Jo was not the recent “graduate student” I had earlier assumed and indeed, at eighteen years of age, she had probably been providing Island Royale guests all forms of sexual service for over six years. I made a quick mental calculation and concluded she had already been fucked in the cunt well over nine thousand times before I had first mounted her earlier in the day. The girl was quite athletic, had great muscle strength and carried no fat whatsoever on her lithe lean body. Had she not been sold into a life of sexual slavery she might very well have become a world class gymnast, so skillfully had she adopted such imaginative positions to copulate – over a chair, across the table, and of course in my bed.
But all of those remarkable feats of sexual athletics had been earlier. Now all I wanted to do was to lie back and savor the afterglow of my orgasms. I could feel my cock beginning to swell once more as the little Chinese girl continued to softly role my shaft between her fingers, but I knew I was far too tired to climb up on top of her again. I reached for the television remote control resting on the nightstand and pressed a button; however, the screen remained blank but for a brief message:
Video Signal Unavailable While Female(s) Present
Of course, I realized: It would be disastrous to Island Royale were the sex staff to be permitted access to news of an “outside world.” I wondered how resort Management knew the little naked Chinese girl was here with me and I suddenly panicked at the thought of hidden surveillance cameras secretly recording the interiors of each of the Guests’ quarters. But then I saw the dim glow of a tiny red light on the top of Jo’s amulet and realized the sensor worn by my bedroom toy had triggered a circuit, disabling the television in her presence. I relaxed again and playfully resumed my gentle teasing of her thick ripe nipple.
My mind drifted as Jo continued to slowly massage my organ. At this time only a week before, I reflected, I had been in an Egyptian hotel room – half a planet and seemingly an entire universe away – frantically packing my meager travel belongings as I anxiously awaited confirmation of my flight arrangements back to the United States: A late-night departure from Cairo to Frankfurt, then another flight to Heathrow in London before boarding the trans-Atlantic airliner to JFK in New York and my connecting flights to Chicago and on to New Orleans.
My meeting days earlier with Yusuf had been rather unproductive – or so I had thought at the time – but something I had said to the Egyptian slaver must have prompted the visit from the mysterious Brit, who had insisted quietly but firmly that I return immediately to the States to receive “all of the answers” to my questions. By this time a week ago the soft-spoken stranger had already left my modest hotel room in the City, leaving me little time to gather my gear, and I recalled cursing the fact that I had not yet arranged for transportation to the airport but feared I would miss receiving confirmation of my flight itinerary were I to have been on the telephone summoning a taxi when that important call from the travel agency finally came.
I smiled as I remembered bolting from my room to check out of the hotel as soon as I had received word that my flight arrangements had been set, and I remembered having rejoiced that a cab “happened” to be parked outside the door to take me to the airport. Now, as I lie in my bed, lost in thought while softly caressing the long erect nipple of my nubile Chinese sex slave, I wondered whether the presence of that car had simply been fortuitous, or whether my British “friend” had thoughtfully arranged to have the taxicab waiting for me. No matter. I had reached the airport in plenty of time to clear customs, my connecting flights had been a breeze, and now, a week later, I was here and thoroughly enjoying some of the special amenities Island Royale has to offer.
And I was happy.
I certainly would like to believe I can perform with the best of men, but I must confess the little Chinese gymnast had completely worn me out. Under the care of the girl’s nimble fingers my cock had again become hard, and Jo sat up in bed, leaned forward, and began sucking me off once more. Although the feel of her tongue dragging across my knob was indeed delightful, I knew that I would not be able to handle yet another round of sex games so soon and consequently, with only slight regret, I gently pulled her face away from my dick.
Jo turned to face me, her tiny hand still holding my cock, and smiled.
“Do you wish me to stay or leave, Master?”
“I believe it is best that you go now,” I replied quietly. The small young woman released my organ, crawled off of the bed and stood. Silently she walked toward the door and then spun around to face me.
“Thank you, Master,” she politely said. I looked deeply into her eyes but said nothing. She turned again, opened the door, and was gone.
Dusk was approaching and it was very quiet. The evening’s party in the Compound would not begin in earnest for another hour or so, and the silence in my dimly lit room was broken only by the distant sound of the waves as they washed up along the shoreline. I figured I would rest for awhile, grab a quick bite later in the evening and then select another female to amuse me overnight, but I ended up sleeping straight through to the morning.