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  She had maddened him with her beauty and her erotic imagination, and she had also told him that she was a virgin. Finally he proposed marriage.

  During his courtship of the dark beauty, he had been engaged in a secret financial coup which had as its aim the devaluation of the British pound. If the coup went off, he stood to make several millions. But the coup failed. Instead, he found himself disgraced and in exile and very nearly in danger of prison.

  And the traitor, or rather the traitress, who had betrayed him to the Minister of Finance was none other than Madeleine DuCours herself!

  One July evening she had come to one of his luxurious bachelor apartments after dinner and the theater, allowed him to undress her down to brassiere and open-legged panties, which showed off the base of her mouth-wateringly curved oval bottom-cheeks. His hands were busy kneading her voluptuous and cream ass while he prodded her furry crotch through the thin stuff of her panties with his bulging prick, which her own slim hand had drawn out of its hiding place.

  She had teased him about being so serious of late and accused him of having something on his mind which did not concern her. In a momentary lapse of good judgment, he had boasted about his plan. And the next day he found himself summoned before a tribunal, threatened with prison if he did not reveal the exact details of the coup, and warned that after investigation had been made, he might well be charged for conspiracy against the crown.

  Having bribed a trustworthy aide in the office of the Ministry of Finance, he learned that it had been Madeleine who had informed upon him, and, to his horror, that she was none other than the mistress of the Minister of Finance himself and far from being a virgin.

  This treachery on the part of a woman he had trusted and loved completely destroyed what might be called nominal reason. He could think only of revenge. He knew that he would be imprisoned and disgraced, so he made arrangements to transfer his money to a Swiss bank. The day before he was to be formally charged, he disappeared from London, and so did Madeleine DuCours. And from that day forth, fifteen years ago, no one had ever heard of him or Madeleine again.

  He had her abducted by a faithful butler named Edgar Lomes, who shared his master's penchants for cunt and for the whip. Indeed, for his excellent service, Edgar was often allowed to engage a pretty young serving maid from the country over whom he was given every right, like a feudal master. And occasionally, when Lord Henry Philbrock was bored, he would allow Edgar to take the unhappy girl down into the cellar of his mansion, which had been outfitted with every kind of flagellatory and torture apparatus known, where the girl would find herself blindfolded and stripped and bound to a sawhorse or to a St. Andrews cross and whipped mercilessly almost to the blood before she was fucked or buggered. Thereupon he would take over and conclude the session by having the girl yield her mouth and cunt and asshole to the delights of his tirelessly virile prick.

  Lord Henry Philbrock and his servant, Edgar Lomes, after visiting Geneva to make certain that the transfer of funds had been successfully completed, had chartered a little merchant ship on which Madeleine, confined in a large packing crate, was an unwilling passenger. They sailed to Cairo; and there, in a house owned by the infamous Marquis du Teatre, Madeleine DuCours expiated her treachery.

  Suspended by her wrists from ropes fixed to a metal ring set in the ceiling of a cellar dungeon, stripped naked and blindfolded, Madeleine was thrashed, then "squared and cubed": double-holed by both men twice, so that each had taken the measure of her cunt and asshole with his stalwart prick.

  Then the Marquis had her bound to a curious sofa and buggered her, while his son Theodoric, his fingers twisting her disheveled black tresses, forced her to suck him off three times, on pain of frightful tortures. Claiming afterward that she had been awkward and inattentive, Theodoric had servants re-position her on the sofa, then sucked her until she screamed for mercy.

  After that she was turned over to the Marquis's precocious daughter Marie-Chantal, who forced the agonized young woman to participate in a downhill bicycle race with herself and her favorite maid-slave, one in which the bicycle seats had been replaced by oversized, padded, leather-covered dildos. When Madeleine not only lost the race, but slightly damaged her derailleur mechanism, she was whipped and made to gamahuche the other two women.

  After a week of such atonement for her treachery, Madeleine was sold at a stiff discount to an elderly Egyptian antique dealer, whose first act as her master was to clip her elegant long fingernails and set her to stripping and refinishing antique furniture.

  Thus the first step in Lord Henry Philbrock's incredible career of merciless despotism had been completed. He and Edgar sailed the day after on a long extended trip to the Hawaiian Islands, the Philippines, and Japan. He had purchased outright a former charter vessel on which he proposed to transport laborers and materials to build a kind of palace of lust, for such it certainly was. It would have a subterranean arena where exciting tableaux could be enacted, tailored to the particular penchants of his guests. It took him nearly ten years to complete his mission, and during this time he visited such exotic lands as Hungary, Finland, Ceylon, Persia, Manitoba, Malta, Malaysia, and the Piedmont, meeting men and women there of great affluence who shared his penchants for enforced servitude.

  He had found this little atoll during one of his cruises on the steamer he had purchased, and had marked it as the site for . And for the past several years, known only to the initiates who were his friends, it flourished as a little, unique world in which there were only masters (or mistresses) and slaves. On occasion, vessels off their course were drawn on to this magnetic reef by just such electronic signals as had been sent out to trap the Anastasia. These ships disappeared without a trace, and rescue ships who plowed the ocean seeking survivors never found any. The captive passengers and crew who displayed the proper tastes and aptitudes were given over for "training" by the masters and the mistresses of this incredible little society); those who were sufficiently wealthy or unattractive were released back into their own civilization after a ransom (nominal or substantial, respectively) had been paid, Lord Henry Philbrock had his renegade neurologist, a New Zealander named Dr. Porthy, give them an injection which destroyed their recent memories, so that they could never betray the location of .Those who refused the injection were remanded to Dr. Porthy's experimental programs until they relented. So far, none had held out for long.

  In one of the magnificently furnished suites of apartments in this building which Ivan Tenkovich had not yet seen, Elvire de St. Cyr was witnessing the punishment of a new slave.

  She was splendidly beautiful, silver-haired, svelte, with superb quince-shaped breasts, long gloriously-proportioned legs, and the soft pink skin of a baby. Her face was an exquisite oval, with soft tremulous mouth, delicate aquiline nose, and gray-blue eyes. She was twenty-nine, and she was one of the mistress of , and had been so for the past three years.

  She was still a virgin to the male; her own uncle, a newspaper publisher in Paris, had attempted to rape her when she was his ward. Four years later, ingeniously, she had poisoned him and escaped punishment for that crime. Fabulously wealthy, an only child whose parents had died while she was not yet out of puberty, Elvire de St. Cyr had met Lord Henry Philbrock through a mutual acquaintance in Paris, and he had offered her the opportunity to share the realm of with him and several others, where she would be free to indulge her lust for her own sex, train beautiful slaves to decorate the palace, and entertain the distinguished female guests who would be invited there on occasion.

  But if Elvire de St. Cyr was a sadist, she was also exquisitely imaginative. Often Lord Henry Philbrock consulted with her in planning gala spectacles for his distinguished guests, who arrived on their private yachts at his invitation. At least once a month elaborate pageants were given, or new slaves were debuted who had been acquired exactly as the survivors of the Anastasia were, "saved" from the vast ocean and the deadly sharks that infested the waters around the atoll.
Indeed, sharks were at all times the sinister and silent guardians of .They patrolled Lord Phil-brock's perimeter for him so efficiently that his consciousness was entirely untroubled by those souls so unsympathetic as to prefer death as shark-sushi to a life of whipping, fucking, and costume construction.

  At times, the silver-haired Elvire trained slaves to become pony girls, in frantically imaginative costumes. The girl she was now having punished was, in fact, a newcomer cast upon the shores of this forsaken atoll and who had been consigned to her for the express purpose of becoming a pony girl who would serve the magnificent and voluptuous dominatress, Marjorie Sayers. She had rebelled, and had been handed over to the exquisite Lesbian from Paris.

  In a kind of boudoir complete with a chaise lounge and whose walls were completely mirrored from ceiling to floor, the captive stood with her arms in cross, bound by each wrist with a silken cord that connected with a metal ring set into each opposite wall. The silken cord was deceptively fragile-looking; not even Lord Henry Philbrock himself, exerting all his strength, could snap it. It was one of the products of the brain of a modest and mildly mannered little engineer named Bernard Kagan, an exile from Berlin and a friend of the ruler of . As a reward for this little man's many remarkable inventions that had been devised for the sole purpose of gratifying the lusts of the rulers of the atoll, Kagan himself had the title of master and had a luxuriously furnished suite in this very same buildings.

  The captive was blindfolded, and her ears were filled with wax so that the suspense of not seeing or hearing what was going to happen to her would stimulate her nervous system to the utmost. Elvire particularly savored this form of punishment because it procured for her the most thrilling of lesbian delights. "When a girl has been punished in this way," she would tell Marjorie Saycrs, "she suddenly becomes the most expert gamahucher one could wish for. She hastens with the most commendable alacrity to do everything and more that you could require. No, a simple whipping is not enough to punish a slave; I wish there to be drama and terror and fear, for it stirs the vital juices and makes a girl's pussy-cream flow more copiously, which of course means that mine will flow the better also!"

  The captive's ankles were spread widely apart and it was seen that silken cords tied to each big and each little toe, and the two strands binding each foot in turn fixed to a metal ring set in the luxuriously carpeted floor. The carpeting was at least two inches thick, and it was sumptuous to the tread, and silent as well. But these rings had been set into the floor below and emerged just under the carpeting pile, projected upwards by little metal pegs. Thus she was presented with her legs straddled a full yard wide to give access to her most intimate anatomy.

  She was really superb, and Elvire, who was clad in only a black satin negligee and high heel pumps, reclined on the chaise lounge, one aristocratic, tapering hand caressing the back of her neck as her narrowed eyes contemplated the naked penitent.

  Her name was Hester Brown, and she was an Australian who had been one of the survivors rescued from a freighter which had been drawn to the magnetic reef about three weeks ago. All of the crew had drowned except two strapping deck hands and the six passengers who had paid for the cruise from Melbourne to San Francisco. Hester Brown had been one of those and the other female survivor (since there were two couples on this cruise) was even now awaiting her own punishment for rebellion in the dungeon of Magala Khan. Their husbands had gone down with the freighter. As for the two seamen, they had been offered a post as trainers by Lord Henry Philbrock himself and had readily accepted; the alternative was death.

  Hester Brown was twenty-eight, in the full flower of her womanliness. She had been married for three years to a sheepherder whose estate was about forty miles northwest of Melbourne. She had not been especially happy with him, for she had come from Sydney where there was gaiety and night life and the trappings of a metropolitan city to a bleak farm where the only profits were those made from the wool of sheep which she detested. Moreover, her husband had been a taciturn man about ten years older than herself, and in bed he fucked her as if she were simply a sheep. She could not find any better analogy because he was so impersonal and brutally swift about the affair. Hester, on the contrary, was warm-blooded and ardent, even though she had been a chaste virgin until her wedding night. She thought she had fallen in love with Mortimer Brown when she had bumped into him in a crowded Sydney department store and he had bought her tea and cakes and told her of the loneliness of the hills and the howling of the dingo dogs and the fact that he had been an orphan back in Surrey and had gone to work at the age of fifteen for a farmer whose uncle in Australia had suddenly died and left him land and money. There he had made his own fortune as the foreman of this employer's property, and he had been given a piece of land all his own and enough money to buy a ram and a ewe to start his flock.

  They had taken the cruise because Mortimer Brown had just sold the wool of his herd for a fabulous price, wool bringing a particularly high price this season. And Hester had hoped that perhaps the cruise would improve their marriage and particularly their bedtime fucking arrangement. She had hoped that in the proximity of the seamen and the cordiality of the crew, her silent and morose husband might unbend and start to enjoy life a little, now that he was wealthy.

  And suddenly the freighter had crashed upon the reef; there had been terror and hysteria and she had been in the water and someone had dragged her to shore and then she had fainted and known nothing until she had opened her eyes to see the imperious face of Marjorie Sayers bending over her. And then she had learned that she was a slave and subject to whip and torture and even death in the event of disobedience.

  But to overcome the conventional habits of her past life had been difficult, even though she was by no means a prim and modest woman. Secretly, she longed to be fucked. She had even, aboard the freighter, flirted a little with the two seamen who worked on deck, because she recognized their tremendous virility, and also because they had been kind and genial towards her.

  And then suddenly she had found herself a slave of a lesbian despot who, the very first morning of her servitude, had ordered her to strip naked, kneel at her feet, kiss them, and then slowly undress her and gamahuche her. Hester Brown had indignantly refused.

  That had cost her a flogging with a three-thonged leather martinet while she had been bound to a saw horse with adjustable legs and arms so as to distend the cheeks of her plump and deliciously ripe creamy behind. The tips of the leather lashes striking that tender, intimate furrow had caused her great suffering. But she had still refused to gamahuche Marjorie Sayers, whom she stigmatized as "icky."

  The beautiful imperatrix, whose two daughters, Velma and Marguerite, followed in their mother's sadistic and lesbian footsteps, had bided her time. She had recognized in Hester Brown the potential of a superb lust slave, who must be awakened to realize how creditably she could serve. So she had made the young woman bathe and dress her, apply her make-up, serve her meals, for two days. Then again she had commanded that Hester gamahuche her. When again the beautiful widow had blushingly but angrily refused. Marjorie Sayers had her stretched out on a teakwood table, her arms and legs spread-eagled and corded to rings set in the table. She had been placed on her back with a bolster under her behind, a bolster made of scratchy wood whose splinters pierced and prickled that sumptuous bare bottom in the most excruciatingly painful way. And then Velma and Marguerite had been turned loose on her.

  Velma had golden blonde hair set in a long pageboy whose curls descended past her shoulder blades. Marguerite, pert, saucy, her black hair set in short bob, and slim and svelte like her mother, Marjorie, was as sadistic and precocious as her older sister, and in some ways ever more fiendishly inventive. Lord Henry Philbrock had more than once laughingly observed to Marguerite's mother that if the girl were not endowed with the rank of an apprentice mistress herself, he himself would have been delighted to take her on as his own personal slave. She was fierce and proud, cunning and cruel. />
  It was she, indeed, who had recommended the particular punishment for poor Hester Brown. She had taken a pair of manicure tweezers and calmly and deliberately pulled out every one of Hester's dark brown pussy curls. Velma meanwhile, had taken a long egret plume and caressed Hester's tits, concentrating on the nipples until they became dark and swollen with exacerbation. So the combination of pain and voluptuous titillation had made poor Hester Brown almost faint under the double assault upon her nerves. But she had still not agreed to do what Marjorie Sayers demanded.

  At the end of her first week, she had been brought into the arena and found, to her horror, that she was to be pitted against the other survivor among the passengers, Jane Wallace, the wife of the other drowned husband aboard the freighter. Jane Wallace was twenty-four, with wheat-colored hair set in an imposing bun at the top of her head. She had been cool, formal and rather distant throughout the trip, much to Hester's dismay. She was a switch-hitter, and not even her own husband had known that. Both young women had been stripped naked and given dog whips made of black leather, whose tapering ends terminated in cruel little knots.

  Lord Henry Philbrock, presiding at this spectacle, had decreed that the two young women were to engage in a duel of the whip, and that she who first cried for mercy would be fucked by three slaves, which he had specially trained.