DON GARCIA is the wealthy owner of the
Estancia. A man of pride and position,
whose family can be traced back to old Spain before the Conquistadores set off
for the New World. He is in his
mid-forties, lean and fit and with a handsome, distinguished profile. Any lengthy examination, however, will reveal
the cruelty beneath the surface.
Staying at the Estancia are a large number of
Garcia’s relatives, business acquaintances, and house guests, predominantly
male, but including several females.
Amongst the guests are:
An anonymous British businessman, who is also a
personal friend of Don Garcia. He is the
NARRATOR of these tales.
RAFAEL HERRARA, an elderly and rather repellent
BOB RENDELL, an American businessman, recently
becoming a major partner in Garcia’s Stateside business activities.
The Estancia is run by a very large ‘staff’, which
includes many peasants to do all the heavy manual work and estate labour, and
many quasi-military employees - in other words, Don Garcia’s own private
army. However, our interest is
principally in the female slave retinue built up by Don Garcia. This retinue and their overseers also
constitutes the Household, responsible for the upkeep of the Estancia main
buildings as well as being for the pleasure of Don Garcia and his guests. The slaves are ruled with an iron hand by
MADAME CARA, the vicious and sadistic Head of
Slave Training in the Estancia household.
ALFONSO, a native Costa Rican overseer.
HERNANDO, also a native Costa Rican overseer.
JEAN-LUKE, a massive Guadeloupan
LEON, current Head of the Overseers; a native
MARTIN, also a native Costa Rican overseer, fat
and past his best days.
THOMAS, a cruel, inventive Haitian mulatto
Then there are the slaves - and what slaves! Dozens of young women and girls all of
exceptional beauty, from around the world.
You will be meeting many of them in these pages. I will not spoil your enjoyment by listing or
describing them here, except to say that there are both trained slaves,
amenable to whatever their Master or his guests wish, and new girls all
unknowingly transported here to a horrible fate, of which the principal
constituents are bondage, punishment, and sexual abuse.
If you feel that young females should be
cherished, spoken softly to, loved from a distance and worshipped as
unattainable objects of desire, then please read no further! What follows will shock you. For there exist men such as Don Garcia, who
believe that girls are a commodity, an entertainment, and may be bought and
sold - and trained to perform ...
1 - CONVERSATIONS (1)
Don Garcia strolled along the west portico of the
Estancia’s inner courtyard. The day was
well advanced, and the portico was in deep shade. A heady perfume came from nearby plants - if
it wasn’t for the excessive humidity, it might be a typical scene in old Spain,
but in fact the Estancia was situated on Costa Rica’s Pacific coast. Throughout the country there were these
wealthy, secluded, privately owned holdings, guarded by private armies and
entirely forbidden to uninvited guests.
Behind the walls and fences, the guards and the dogs, the owner and his
favoured relatives, guests and cronies could do exactly as they pleased. Large quantities of money paid as ‘taxes’ to
local officials, police etc meant they were left completely alone.
Ahead of Don Garcia was a large, florid man
sprawled in a wicker chair. He appeared
to be asleep, but as Don Garcia came abreast, the man stirred a little and
“Hiyah, DG ol’ buddy. Sure is
hotter than a Florida swamp - I’d hate to do much hard labour today, eh?” the
man drawled in an American accent.
Don Garcia sighed a little to himself. “Good afternoon, Señor
Rendell. I agree. It is as well we have
enough labour here to avoid any undue exertions, my friend.”
The term friend was an exaggeration, since Don
Garcia would happily have crept past the swaggering American. Still, he was a valued and important business
“Sure thing, DG - and what nice labour types you
got ...” replied Rendell, “Say, I need a drink, how’s about a bit of service
around here? Where’s that girl?”
Don Garcia snapped his fingers, and from a shaded
recess in the colonnade some yards away emerged a young female who swiftly
knelt in front of the Estancia owner.
The girl was completely naked except for a steel collar and ankle and
wrist shackles. All five metal loops
were joined by thin chain, though not so short as that her movement was
completely prevented, simply made a little constrained. She spread her knees wide, and the men could
see she had a shaven pubic mound. The
girl was a beauty, in her mid twenties with long
black hair falling down her back, the hair framing a pretty Latin face. Pale olive skin, full breasts and thighs
provided a voluptuous figure to delight even the most jaded male member!
“How may I s-serve you, Masters?” she enquired.
She was obviously nervous at being asked to serve
the owner - she had expected that the American she had been assigned to would
snooze for some time. Nevertheless, her
tone made it clear that any request, whatever its nature, would be instantly
“What is your name, slave?” demanded her
owner. There were so many girls on the
Estancia, it was simply impossible to remember them all!
“J-Juanita, M-Master,” she replied with a little
stammer. For there was no doubt in the
minds of all those present, least of all Juanita herself, that she was indeed
the property of Don Garcia. Her collar
“Another Highball for Señor
Rendell, Juanita, and quickly!”
Immediately the girl ran off as fast as the chains
permitted - despite the heat - to obey his command. Once the girl was gone, Don Garcia spoke
again: “Señor Rendell, I have a small favour to ask
of you. When in your country I am happy
to be referred to as ‘DG’, but here in Costa Rica I should be obliged if you
would use Señor Garcia, or Don Garcia. It is a matter of honour for a host, you
see. I must maintain my respectability;
I do hope you will understand?”
There was a slight, unspoken tension. Bob Rendell never had much time for ceremony,
and came over as ‘Good Ole Bob’ to all and sundry - unless he was crossed or
good and riled, then the gloves came off.
Still, he realised he was on to a good thing here; a little give to this
jackass wouldn’t hurt!
“Okay, Señor Garcia it
is! We ain’t
so used to titles in the States, you see.”
“Thank you, Señor
Rendell. In return I will see if Madame
Cara can organise a little amusement for you later on - nothing too energetic,
of course, at least on your part!” They
both smiled at that - both knew what sort of ‘amusement’ Don Garcia had in
Rendell was glad he wouldn’t be on the receiving
end of Madame Cara’s inventiveness - whenever he met her, he had the feeling
that given half a chance the woman would have him tied naked on a rack,
flogging him for all she was worth!
A slight clink of chains announced the return of
Juanita. Quickly she knelt in front of
Rendell, and kissed the glass she carried.
Then she proffered it to him: “A slave begs humbly to provide your
Juanita was well-trained, with over a year at the
Estancia. Originally from the Dominican
Republic in the Caribbean, Juanita had been acquired as part of a gambling debt
and had learnt servitude with her previous Master, but she soon found that the
standards of Madame Cara were quite different!
Still the drink remained in the girl’s
out-stretched hands. “Well, it’s about
time too, slave.” Rendell winked over
Juanita’s downcast head at her owner, finally taking the highball from the
girl. “Seems pretty slow service round
here, Señor Garcia!”
“Yes, Juanita appears to have become rather lazy, Señor Rendell,” said Garcia, playing along. “My apologies. I shall have a word with Madame Cara as to
how the girl can make good her error. I am
sure that something suitable can be done - it is high time you were taken in
hand again, Juanita! I am surprised that
with your training you have let me down in front of our guest - what have you
to say for yourself, slave?”
“P-please Masters ... I h-humbly beg your
f-forgiveness for my laziness, M-masters ...” stammered a very distraught Juanita.
She neither knew nor cared whether she had really
erred - it didn’t matter. She was in
trouble and had to try and get out of it!
“Please, I beg you, don’t send me to the Mistress ... I beg to be your
perfect slave, I will do whatever you wish, Masters!” Juanita was wasting her breath, however.
“Your fate is already decided, slave - you know
that slackness must be punished! Señor Rendell, I shall speak to Madame Cara on this matter
and arrange for you to be present when Juanita is dealt with. I suggest this evening, at about eight?” He turned from looking at Rendell to glance
down at the slave-girl.
“You may wonder why she is not dealt with
immediately, perhaps? I do not disturb
the running of my household for one miserable slave who needs correction, and
it does her good to think about what is to come; the torment of punishment
postponed is delicious, I can assure you!
Also, at that hour it should give your appetite a little edge. However, in the meantime, I trust Juanita
will be more prompt in your service!
Now, please excuse me.”
With that he left Rendell with his drink, the
stricken girl remaining in her kneeling, open-thighed posture in front of
Rendell. Although her head was down,
Rendell could see her shoulders lift and hear a quiet, stifled sobbing.
Yes, this was the life! A beautiful girl kneeling naked in front of
you, facing the certainty of serious punishment for an imagined fault - and all
just to provide one with a little amusement and sharpen one’s appetite! It was
certainly well worth a little massaging of Latin honour!
Promptly at ten minutes to eight, one of Garcia’s
overseers came and knocked on the door of Rendell’s suite, and escorted him to
the downstairs room where Juanita was to be treated painfully - just for his
pre-dinner entertainment. As he entered
the room, Rendell realised that the punishment was going to fit the ‘crime’,
for the room was fitted out as a fitness centre with several weight-training
machines, dumb-bell racks, and computer-controlled exercise cycles and
Juanita was already present, her wrists shackled
to the handles of a cycle, and pedalling for all she was worth. She was of
course still naked, and with all the effort she had to make, it was one of the
few times she didn’t mind not wearing clothes!
Juanita was putting in all this effort because
standing behind her was Madame Cara, who occasionally swished her riding crop
just behind Juanita’s pumping thighs and jiggling buttocks. The slave-girl wasn’t wearing a gag (the
exercise needed all the air she could take in), and her panting, ragged breaths
could be heard across the room.
Rendell knew from talking to other house-guests
that his attitude to Madame Cara wasn’t unique.
Taken at face value, Cara (though you never called her that; it was
always ‘Madame Cara’, or just ‘Madame’ - even Don Garcia wouldn’t get more
familiar!) was a very striking woman, probably in her mid-thirties. She had lost the bloom of youth, and replaced
it with lines and features a little more in keeping with her reputation of hard
cruelty. Well, outright sadism, in fact!
In another situation, Rendell would probably like
to ‘try it on’ and make a pass at Cara.
She was tall, with a statuesque figure, sharp features and long, jet
black hair pinned severely back over her ears.
She wore a crisp, lace-edged blouse with a high, standing collar, a
leather bolero jacket and short leather skirt over long, thigh-length
boots. The belt of her skirt contained
loops, to which the crop, and any chains, handcuffs etc she wished to carry
could be attached. Her outfit spoke of
neatness, efficiency, cleanliness - all of which Rendell admired, without
necessarily reaching the same standards himself. Her outfit also told of passion, commitment
to her objectives. In the cooling heat
of the evening, there was no sign of perspiration, no speck of dust nor hair
out of place. It was very sexy to those
like Rendell, who commanded large staffs where females were generally
subservient, or at least used to taking orders, even if this posture was only
on the surface. Here, though, Madame
Cara was in charge without question, and it was a turn on!
But Rendell was not about to make a pass - he
would ‘make do’ with the lovely Juanita!
He had no wish to discover what Madame Cara’s response would be to any
advance from him! He noticed that he had
made a subconscious decision to stand well away from Cara and her riding
crop. A lot of people did that; and the slavegirls would too, if only they could!
Rendell instead concentrated his attention on the
luscious Latin girl who was his for the day and night, but was now being put
through her paces by Madame Cara. The
girl was certainly going hell for leather on that cycle! Juanita had obviously learnt not to slacken
in the presence of Madame Cara.
The latter woman now turned, once Rendell had
taken in the view and settled to lean against an equipment rack. “Good evening, Señor
Rendell! I believe I have you to thank
for this opportunity to exercise Juanita?”
Many things that Madame Cara said were somewhat
ambiguous; Rendell wasn’t sure if Cara genuinely welcomed the chance to
discipline the girl, or felt it was an unwarranted intrusion on her daily
schedule! Having had some experience of
Madame Cara’s ... predilections, shall we say? ... Rendell thought that on the whole she meant
the former. “Well, sure glad I could
help out some, Madame Cara. A girl needs
remindin’ what she’s here for!”
“Very true, Señor
Rendell,” Cara replied, though she doubted that Rendell knew exactly what his
answer implied for the slavegirl; how desperately
tough and painful their normal routine was, then to have this extra punishment
on top ... Still, he was just a man, unable to appreciate what a female could
withstand, what punishments she could endure that would have a man
weeping! But that was what she was here
for, to enjoy making the girls’ lives a misery!
“I shall ask you to assist at various times, Señor. However, at
all other times I would appreciate it if you could stand well back, as you are
doing now. I may need to apply the crop
to Juanita without warning, and don’t wish you to receive the strike
instead! You will have ample opportunity
to appreciate Juanita’s suffering from close up, I assure you, during the
“You may wonder that we started her punishment
before you arrived. In fact, this
cycling exercise is merely to warm her up!
Like an athlete, we will get the best out of the girl if she is ready for
her session’s work. Of course, Juanita
must co-operate; she knows from long and painful experience that any slacking
only means that I increase her ordeal!
So, please do not be surprised at her willingness to undergo pain and
“Now then, Juanita, I believe you are sufficiently
warmed up to proceed! Señor Rendell, I will require your assistance, if you
The girl was freed from the cycle, but kept the
shackles on. She was made to go over to
a high metal bar, which was too high for her to reach even on tiptoe. Then she was told to turn, and face Rendell.
“Very well, Señor -
Juanita will jump up and grasp the bar with both hands, then hang straight from
it. I want you to hold her by her waist
and ensure she does stays there while I fasten her shackles.”
The slave girl leapt up and did as she was
commanded, then Rendell moved eagerly forward and placed his hands around her
waist. Marvellous! Rendell thought this was great fun, holding the girl
tightly, his eyes level with her tits!
Madame Cara brought forward a small stool, and
standing upon it soon had Juanita’s shackles locked to the bar. There was now no way she could fall to the
floor - if she let go of the bar, she would simply hang by her wrists. Regretfully, Rendell released the girl’s
midriff and stood back to await developments.
“Thirty pull-ups, Juanita!” said Madame Cara, “...
and one stripe for every five!”
A resigned expression settled on Juanita’s face,
as she tensed to begin her exercise.
Slowly, she pulled up until her chin was touching the bar, then
lowered. Up and down her body went -
two, three, four ... her eyes closed on the fifth pull-up, as she knew what was
to come. She hung steady, awaiting
When the woman judged that Juanita was still, the
crop landed across the girl’s shoulders.
She jerked and shuddered but still held the bar. Gradually recovering, she recommenced her
pull-ups; six, seven, eight ... and so on.
At the end of each group of five, she hung awaiting Cara’s crop. Which was worse; the exercise, the wait, or
the crop strokes? Only Juanita could say
and she knew better than to object to any of it!
There were meant to be six strokes in all, all
applied with full force to her back; but in fact seven were applied. Towards the end, on the fifth stroke, she had
great difficulty in remaining still - so Madame Cara gave her an extra stroke
to remind her to obey! It took her by
surprise, and her hands lost their grip on the bar. She was tiring fast, and only managed to get
one hand then the other back through extreme effort.
After this exercise, she was ‘allowed’ to hang
there for ten minutes or so for a rest!
All too soon, however (for the girl, but not for Rendell!), she must be
moved to the next piece of apparatus.
Once more Rendell grabbed Juanita’s waist as she was released and
lowered onto her feet. Madame Cara
pointed at the back press; this was like a seat, but the back rest moved if
sufficient force was applied to it, against the force of the weights.
This was cruel; her back had just been thrashed,
and now she had to press it against the rest.
Cara shackled the girl’s wrists to the side of the apparatus, and her
ankles were fixed into shackles under the seat.
Rendell managed to ‘help’ by holding Juanita’s breasts! One wonders if he suspected the next target
for Cara’s crop.
It was the same formula; thirty presses, a crop
stroke after every five. But this time
her tits got it - vicious cuts across both globes. Rendell could hardly believe what he was
seeing and that Juanita had so far made so little fuss! Still, the tit thrashing brought cries of
anguish, sobs and pleas for mercy - all of which Madame Cara simply ignored.
On and on it went.
Juanita was made to work through every item of equipment in the gym and
each time she had to repeat the exercise thirty times.
Whatever the task, a suitable target for Cara’s
crop was presented. Rendell thought about what was happening; such a torture
for an imagined fault! What would happen
if the girl REALLY did something seriously wrong? It didn’t bear thinking about - but that
wasn’t Rendell’s worry, he was enjoying it all!
Eventually it was over. Juanita was slumped, bound to the frame she
currently occupied, trying to get her breath back - and trying to forget what
had happened to her. She was covered in
sweat, and a multitude of angry red-purple stripes over her back, bottom, legs,
breasts and feet.
Madame Cara turned to Rendell: “Please do not
concern yourself over the slut - she will soon recover, and hopefully improve
her service in future!”
“I suggest, Señor
Rendell, that you prepare and dress for dinner; it isn’t long. While you are eating, I will have Juanita
brought to your room and tied outstretched to your bed. Please enjoy her tonight with my compliments
- even though she is rather a wreck at present, I am sure she will give you
excellent service, as she won’t want to return here tomorrow, I would guess!”
Rendell understood the sense of these
arrangements. He was highly excited, and
would gladly screw the girl here and now!
But she was in poor condition, and he would miss the evening meal. Yes, far better to savour the girl, and have
her later as his ‘dessert’!
Both turned to look at the exhausted girl. There was no doubt she had heard Madame
Cara’s remarks - no slavegirl could afford to ignore
anything the woman said! Pain-filled
eyes looked up at Rendell, briefly, then her gaze dropped. But he had seen that indeed she would try her
utmost to please him in future - not that she had any choice, especially if she
was to be fixed, naked and tightly spread-eagled to his bed!