PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF JASON BELMONT
I had rung down for morning tea and lay relaxed in the
broad, soft bed. It was unlikely I would have to wait long. Service was good on
Bianca's Island. Understandably!
Though its real name is, I think, Kaikos Island, I always
think of it as Bianca's Island, for she owns it and rules it. Perhaps two miles
square; it is a dot in the Pacific Ocean. But a most interesting dot. It
contains her vast mansion, in which I was resident, and a number of smaller
villas, allocated to guests who prefer more privacy. There is also, of course,
the large slave quarters which can house up to fifty or so girls. I had been a
guest of Bianca's a couple of times before and now, after a hard business year,
was looking forward to a few weeks of relaxation. There was a knock on my door.
"Enter," I called.
The door opened and a pretty
young woman entered. Like all slaves on Bianca's Island she was naked and
depilated and wore a gold ring through her nose and each of her nipples. She
had shortish blonde hair and, I saw at once, excellent firm, high breasts,
beautifully rounded, with pink nipples. She advanced to the bedside and bowed.
Then she placed the tray on the bedside table.
"Pour." I ordered. I studied her as she did so.
For one so obviously young, she did not appear particularly nervous.
"Name, girl?" I enquired as I picked up my cup.
"Anna, Master." She replied in a soft voice.
'Master'! How agreeable it was to hear that form of address from a young woman
"How old are you, Anna?"
"Eighteen, Master." I was a little surprised
she was as young as that on account of the maturity of her figure. On the other
hand, her face was that of an eighteen-year-old.
She stood almost demurely, pale blue eyes resigned and, I
supposed, despairing. "Nationality?" I asked.
"English, Master," she replied. She might still
be at school, I thought. Attending classes, wearing a
gym-slip and blue serge knickers. Not likely to get the cane at such a
school, I reflected, whereas at Bianca's she was very liable to get it for the
slightest fault. I had seen quite a deal of Bianca's disciplinary methods. She
was quite merciless.
I put down my cup. "Come closer," I bade her.
She came to the side of the bed and I cupped arid fondled her breasts. Far from
recoiling, she proffered them more boldly. Despite her age, she was obviously a
well trained and experienced slave. Lowering one hand, I ran a finger between
her pouting sex-lips. Again, she did not recoil but thrust her smooth young
pussy up invitingly.
"Have you been fucked today, Anna?" I asked.
"No, Master," she replied calmly. Oh, what a
world this was! Bianca's world. Where you could toy with naked teenagers as you
wished ... knowing you could do as you liked with her ... sure she would be
submissive and co-operative. Quite a difference to the ordinary world, now full
of self-willed, aggressive women, wanting everything their own way.
"I think I might fuck you, Anna," I announced.
"Thank you, Master," she said. Still calm,
seemingly unmoved. I could only suppose that, by now, she was quite used to
being fucked by completely strange men. It was something a slave-girl had to
I pushed back the blankets. "You will suck me first,
girl." Already I was partially in erection. Not exactly surprising.
"Yes, Master. I am honoured, Master." Honoured
indeed! Anna came onto the end of my bed and between my parted thighs. I had a
glorious view of her hindquarters and other charms in the large mirror on the
wall behind the end of my bed. There was another mirror in the ceiling. Anna
parted her thighs and I had an even better view of what was waiting for me. She
put about a quarter of my thickening organ into her mouth and began to suck
gently. At the same time, her tongue flickered. Only eighteen, I kept thinking,
and such expertise. I wondered idly how much she had to suffer to achieve such
a level of skill.
What a lovely bottom was displayed to me! Superbly
rounded. How often, I thought, it must have writhed in agony under rod and
Doubtless it still did on occasions. It bore no marks at
that moment. In arty event, even if the girl had been thrashed a day or so
previously, Bianca's miraculous Healing Ointment would have restored the skin
to a pristine state.
I had become bone hard. Relaxing, looked in the ceiling
mirror. A smooth, straight back, a swelling bottom. Oh, this was the life. A
lovely sucking followed by a lovely fucking. I took hold of her blonde hair and
pulled her off. It was getting just too good. Her lips were parted and wet. She
was breathing faster.
"Get that up you, slave," I ordered.
"Yes, Master." She came higher up on me, thighs
straddling wide. Her rounded breasts bounced softly in front of my face. I
fondled the gold rings. What must it be like for a girl to be ringed in that
fashion? The very essence of degradation. Her sex lips ran to and fro over my
throbbing knob. This youngster knew what she was doing. I placed my hands
gently on her soft, warm bottom. Then, with a low sigh, she sank slowly down.
Down ... down ... until her mound was pressing hard to me. Then she gave a
series of convulsive wriggles.
There was both a tightness and a warm lubricate about her.
Slowly she began to undulate up and down. She would go up slowly until her
sex-lips were just gripping my knob. Then she would lunge down faster,
wriggling as she did so.
"You're a lovely fuck, Anna," I said after a
couple of minutes of this delicious treatment.
"Thank you, Master," she responded, almost
politely, it seemed. "I am honoured."
It was the sort of thing a slave-girl had to say but,
honoured or not, she was doing a superb job. "Faster," I ordered,
giving her bottom a little slap. I did not think I could hold out much longer.
"Yes, Master." She began to raise and lower
herself faster. I could hear her panting now. Was she getting aroused? Quite a
number of slave-girls do get aroused whether they want to or not. Simply a
matter of nature
"Faster, girl ... faster ..." I urged.
"Yes...aaah...yes, Master ...”
"Work that lovely ass of yours ...”
"Yes ... yes, Master ..."
She was really going hammer and tongs now and felt
superb. I knew I couldn't last more than half a minute. Then the divine
sensation swept over me and, gasping, I was shooting and shooting up into her.
At the same time, I heard her crying out in her own orgasm. Most satisfactory.
She slumped down on me and thought I heard her sobbing. In relief? In pleasure?
I know not, nor cared, I had been utterly slaked.
Slowly the beating of my heart subsided. She still lay
there, breathing more softly now, quiescent. Awaiting my orders. Not a bad way
to start one's stay at Bianca's I thought. To have a delightful eighteen-year-old
to ride you into the ground. I patted her bottom.
"Off," I said. She raised her haunches and I
left her; then she slid off the bed and stood submissively. This is how it
should always be, I reflected. No aggro., no recriminations from one's partner.
I twisted to one side and opened the drawer of the bedside table, took out a
pad and pencil. I scribbled a note. "Give this to your overseer," I
said. And I saw her eyes light up.
"Oh ... oh thank you, Master! " she said,
sinking to her knees and gratitude. "Thank you ... thank you!"
I couldn't help smiling. For, on the pad I had written:
"Anna makes a very good fuck. Please bear that in mind when she is next
being considered for punishment." It was certainly remarkable that any eighteen-year-old
should be delighted to get such a message. But then, Bianca's was a remarkable
"You may go, girl."
"Thank you ... oh thank you, Master ..." Anna
bowed yet again and scuttled from the room. Quite a little darling, I thought.
I would have again before long. When, having let off more steam, I would be
able to hold on much longer. It would be nice to fuck that little beauty for a
good half hour or so.
Time to get up, I supposed. Not that I had to, of course.
But it would be nice to take a wander around and see if Bianca had made any
changes. Also, to see Bianca herself.
I picked up the House Phone. "Send up a slave,"
"Yes, Sir. Is there any particular one you
"No ... no ... anyone will do." What marvellous
Room Service, I reflected. You wouldn't get it anywhere else in the world. I
got out of bed and wandered about naked. The feel of young Anna was still with
me and I felt most relaxed. There came a knock on the door.
The door opened and a mature looking woman, who I guessed
to be in her mid-thirties, entered. She had light brown hair, greenish eyes and
somewhat aristocratic features. She bowed. Her breasts were big and on that
account, hung rather lower than Anna's. She might have been described as buxom.
She also seemed far more nervous that Anna had done, averting her eyes from me
and I guessed, though a lot older, she was a less experienced slave.
"Turn on the shower," I said. 'Medium
temperature. Get ready to soap me."
"Yes, Master." She went quickly into the
adjoining bathroom. I followed at my leisure. She was waiting for me, tense,
soap in hand.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"A strange name. What was it originally?"
"Lavinia, Master," she answered.
"Haahhh ..." I said. "A bit too up-market
for a slave, that." I saw a cheek twitch. I had touched her on a sore
spot. I stepped under the shower. "Soap me," I ordered. She began on
my chest. I fondled her breasts and she shuddered. "What is your full
name?" I asked.
"Lavinia ... Montesque," she answered. I kept
on fondling her nice big boobs. "The Honourable Lavinia Montesque,"
she added ... and a great sob choked her.
Well, well, I thought, here we have a piece of the
English Aristocracy really brought down in the world. How nice to contemplate.
The Hon. Lavinia Montesque, eh?
"Quite a change of lifestyle," I said,
grinning. Another big sob shook her. She was soaping my belly. Soon she would
be down to my cock. Nice. "How old are you, Lavinia?"
"Thirty-four, Master," she answered, taking
hold of my cock and soaping it gently. My balls as well. Rather a humble task
for one so high-born!
"Might have been Lady of the Manor then?” I said.
"Y-yes ... M-master ..." A choking sound and a
big tear rolled down one cheek.
"What are you snivelling about, girl? You should
feel honoured to serve me!" All slave-girls are called girl, whatever
their age. "Do you want a cane across your backside?"
"No ... ahh no, Master ... please ... please
..." She began to tremble more violently. She wiped the tear away and
began to tremble even more. A woman definitely under stress. Not altogether
surprising in view of her background. I wondered idly how Bianca managed to
pick up such prizes.
"Have you been fucked today, Lavinia?" It was a
question I always like to ask a slave-girl.
"M-My Overseer, Master."
"Is he white or black, Lavinia?” I knew Bianca had
whites, half-castes and blacks in the slave quarters.
"B-Black, Master," she answered. I grinned,
then turned off the shower and stepped out.
"Dry me," I ordered. "Do you like a nice
big black cock up you, Lavinia?" I asked.
Her face seemed to crumble momentarily. "No ... ahh
... no ... Master ..." she whimpered. Well, at least she was honest.
"Too bad," I said, “because I expect you get
plenty. Are you fucked every day, Lavinia?" I was deliberately using the
name she had been known by in another world.
"N-Nearly every day, Master ..."
"But sometimes more than once?"
"Yes, Master." She finished drying me. Her
mouth was quivering, tears trickling.
"What's the most you've been fucked in a day,
"I ... ah ... I think ... tw-twelve times ... mmmff
... mmfff ... M-Master." The memory did not appear to be very pleasant by
the look on her face!
"Mmmm ... quite a treat for an ex-Lady of the
Manor." She sobbed openly at that. "I told you to stop snivelling,
girl! Go into that bedroom and get your arse up."
"Pleee ... eeease, Master ... oooh ... pleee ...
"Move!" She scuttled into the bedroom, bottom
bouncing. I went to the cabinet where I knew the corrective instruments were
kept and took out a cane. Turning, I saw a buxom bottom up high and quivering
with dread. The Honourable Lavinia Montesque, I thought. Well, well. Not the
kind of image she had once presented in The Tatler.
"Now you're going to get something to snivel about,”
I said. I gave her half a dozen good and hard and had her scrabbling and
squirming all over the floor, crying out in pain. Her lack of experience was
pretty obvious. A well-trained, hardened slave-girl can take half a dozen like
that and keep her hindquarters raised high in more or less the same position.
But not Lavinia! When I had done, she knelt on the floor, hands over her face,
I went to the House Phone.
"Send up a black Overseer," I ordered.
"Yes, Sir," replied a polite operator. The
sobbing intensified. Lavinia knew what was coming now.
I donned a lightweight shirt and a pair of slacks.
"Mmmff ... u-ugh ... mmfff ... u-ugh ..."
"Keep your arse up high, girl. It's shortly going to
be made use of."