Slave Island Page 9

  Elvire, wearing glistening black leather boots that rose high on her long svelte thighs, and a red satin tunic which was sleeveless and had very narrow straps and descended just below her cunt, stood behind the wide-open girl, a riding crop in her right hand that was gloved with black leather of the same suppleness and glossiness as the boots.

  Although Dick would have liked to have helped with the coming entertainment, Elvire waved him away and called to the two girls. Marguerite grabbed Hester's bottom-cheeks and held them apart, while Velma guided the monstrous dildo worn by Elvire. As the thick, foot-long monstrosity began to slowly penetrate the unsuspecting girl a piercing scream, clamorous and agonized and almost inhuman, tore from the naked young widow as she frenziedly tried to break the bonds holding her wrists or to twist her loins away from the hideous projectile.

  Slowly and mercilessly it disappeared into her vaginal sheath. And then the Lesbian began to fuck her with those grotesque and gigantic perorations characteristic of the copulation between the male and female, an act that the Lesbian herself found disgusting.

  Hester's mad screams continued; her breasts rising wildly with every breath, her body jerking and squirming. And then suddenly she was silent, her head slumped to one side. Velma at once took a bucked of water and doused the tortured woman. She stirred only slightly. Elvire pulled free, the penis she wore inching its way out. Velma again tried to rouse the unfortunate woman with no success. She shook her head. "I'm afraid we'll have no more sport from her this eve, Miss Elvire."

  The beautiful Lesbian shrugged, her face cold and forbidding. "She'll have plenty of time to get used to my sweet caress or suffer the same treatment again. I'm sure she will be reasonable in the future." Then, whisking her riding crop in the air and slapping it against her booted calf, she strolled out of the arena.

  CHAPTER EIGHT - SHORE

  John Granville had, like the Russian steward, leaped far out into the water from the listing deck of the Anastasia, in order to avoid being sucked down under the ship when it sank, as it threatened to do at any moment. He had seen his beautiful golden-haired daughter Betty rowed off to safety in one of the lifeboats in the company of other women and girls, many of whom were hysterical. The boats were large, and two sailors were assigned to each, to pull heavy oars and to strike out for the welcome shore and the nearest beach.

  John Granville, thought as he plunged into the water, which was pleasantly warm, that there was a very good chance he might die. The Pacific was shark-infested and he was not a particularly strong swimmer, though he could hold his own in a pool in San Francisco. But it looked to be well over a mile to the vague outline of land which briefly showed itself through the fog. His only worry was his daughter. She was coming to an age where she would be attractive to men.

  * * *

  In the same boat in which Betty Granville sat, Marcia Chalmers and her maid Jacqueline Wilson huddled together. Marcia had time enough to take her jewel case and her handbag, which also contained her book of traveler's checks. She had put a fur coat over her nightie and thrust her feet into slippers. Her lovely maid still wore the white cotton nightgown and a cloth coat and sandals. It was a dreadful shame about all the beautiful dresses and luggage, but of course the steamship company would have to pay her back. She was very angry. She had looked forward to being in Honolulu, and perhaps making more conquests. She had heard in Hong Kong that by the time she got to the Islands, a very glamorous English Lord would be vacationing there. Lord Philip Wilmarding, a member of the old British aristocracy and a handsome bachelor in his mid-forties.

  She glanced at Jacqueline, and smiled mockingly. She was remembering how she had caught her maid finger-frigging her soft pussy in her sleep at the time the vessel had hit the reef. She was going to remind her maid about that naughtiness quite a good deal in the future, and maybe Jacqueline would serve her with more diligence.

  Glancing back over her shoulder at the burly and nearly bald seaman who was pulling the oars, she called, "How much longer until we get to the island?"

  "With any luck. Miss, I'd say about an hour. It's a choppy sea. And this boat is jammed full of people, you know."

  "Well, Jacqueline," she said blithely to her maid, "It will be something interesting to talk to people about when we get back to San Francisco, wont it?"

  "Yes, Miss Chalmers,"

  "You are such a little innocent, aren't you?" she murmured, unable to refrain from displaying her secret hold over her demure maid. "Only I happen to know that you are really a very thorough-going little sinner. Don't look at me like that, with those big, innocent eyes, my dear. Do you know what you were doing when I woke you up to tell you the boat had foundered? You were tickling yourself between your legs, that's what you were doing! If I'd known you had such a nasty little streak, I don't think I would have hired you to begin with. You Don't always please me, you know."

  "I-I'm awfully sorry, Miss Chalmers. But-what you've just said-Oh, that isnt true!"

  "And now you're calling me a liar," Marcia Chalmers sharply rejoined. "I know what I saw you doing. You needn't bother to deny it. You'd just better take good care of me from now on. By the time we get back to San Francisco, you could be without a job and references. Just you remember that, my girl!"

  It was, indeed, a good hour before the boat came into the cove, but on the other side than that where Ivan Tenkovich had landed with his trio of captives. The woman and girls got out of the boat and thankfully stumbled up on to the beach. The two seamen dragged the life boat up high along the sand, so the water wouldn't pull it back out to sea. One of them took out a pack of cigarettes, and he and his companion lit one apiece and exhaled a sigh of satisfaction as they sank down, exhausted on the sand at last.

  Suddenly there was a sound of footsteps behind them. Marcia Chalmers turned and uttered a cry of disbelief. Coming out of a clump of palm trees were two Black men, naked except for jock straps and sandals, each holding a revolver, while behind them was Lord Henry Philbrock himself, the ruler of .

  "I bid you welcome," he said in his deep, suave tones, but his eyes were appraising rather than friendly. "This is a privately owned island, and all of you are trespassers here, of course."

  "Trespassers!" Marcia Chalmers burst into a mocking laugh. "Our ship over there is smashed against a reef. We certainly didnt ask to come here. Where are we?"

  "This is miss, and it is not on any mariner's chart. But you are still trespassers. Tom, Sam, have the women line up in one file, the younger girls in another. As for you-" he gestured at the seamen with his revolver, "step forward smartly, because I want to talk to you. And I warn you to pay close attention to what I have to say."

  "See here," one of these men protested, "you have no right to order us around like this."

  "Don't you understand what I have told you? Our boat hit something and went down, and we're the only survivors," put in the other.

  "Is that all of you?"

  "There were two more boats, which ought to be arriving at any minute."

  "That's fine. We'll have a warm reception for them. But in the meantime, the name of the island should give you the clue for which you are searching. All those who come here are regarded as slaves. Now go back to the others, and be quick about it!"

  "Who are you?" demanded Marcia Chalmers.

  "My name is Lord Henry Philbrock, and I think that you had better go willingly with Tom and Sam, because they can be quite persuasive when people don't obey them."

  Dismissing her, he turned to the two men who had pulled the oars in the lifeboat. "As for you two, you have a choice since you cant ransom yourselves. Either you will join my service-and there would be many advantages, which I will discuss with you later-or else you will die. It's as simple as that."

  "Are you some kind of nut or something?" the man to whom Marcia Chalmers had spoken laughingly asked.

  Lord Henry Philbrock eyed him coldly, then raising his revolver, he pulled the trigger. The man dro
pped with a bullet in his heart. A simultaneous shriek of horror burst from the beautiful prisoners, who had been herded by Tom and Sam into the two lines as their master had demanded.

  "And now what is your opinion?" the ruler of coldly demanded of the other seaman.

  "I want to live," the man said hoarsely.

  "A wise decision. All right then, you can be of great help to me.

  "You will address me henceforth as Lord Philbrock. And be sure not to forget that, or I'll have you given the cat-o-nine-tails."

  The seaman flushed and stammered the required formula. Lord Henry Philbrock smiled. "Very good. Tell me what you know about these girls and women."

  The man, in his late thirties, with a peaked face and shifting eyes, glanced at the body of his dead comrade and shuddered. Then the ruler of drew him off to one side; he began to talk feverishly, gesturing towards several of the incredulous and stupefied women drawn up in ranks. There were about twenty-five women in all, and Betty Granville was trying her best to quiet some of her more hysterical companions. Lord Philbrock glanced at her from time to time and he talked to the seaman.

  "And that one?" he murmured.

  Eager to curry favor with his new master, the man whispered, "She's very rich, and they come from San Francisco. I'm pretty sure her father was drowned. Fact is, I saw him leap off the rail just before the Anastasia went down. She's a beauty, isn't she? Want me to cut her out and bring her to your room, Lord Philbrock?"

  "I think not. You're serving me very faithfully, but you're a traitor and a scoundrel, giving me all this information without bothering to try to protect the passengers entrusted to your care. I'd have more respect for you if you'd refused to tell me anything, which is your maritime right. So I shall no longer need your services, I'm afraid." And, leveling the revolver, the ruler of pulled the trigger. With a cry of agony and complete surprise, the seaman crumpled to the sand. The two henchmen picked up the lifeless body and carried it to the water, where, teaming their efforts, they hurled it as far out as they could. Betty Granville uttered a cry. The sinister black fin of a shark had come in terribly close to this little beach, and now the body of the murdered seaman was dragged down forever.

  By now the sobbing, trembling, terrified survivors had been lined up as Lord Henry Philbrock had commanded. Twelve of the younger women, including Betty, stood facing thirteen more mature women.

  The two men returned and one stood behind each file of captives. Lord Henry Philbrock now introduced himself and tersely declared: "Perhaps the deaths of the seamen have convinced you that I am in complete control of this island. You need not look for rescue, because we have a magnetic reef that attracts ships like yours, and radio jamming devices that prevent calls from here being received by any nearby ship. You are therefore all my slaves, and as long as you live here, you needn't expect anything other than that life. It will be easier for all of you if you make up your minds to accept this and not to rebel. Here on a slave has no rights whatsoever save what his master or mistress decides to grant. Now follow my men and don't try to escape or you'll feed the sharks-or survive and be drastically punished. You'll sleep tonight, and then tomorrow after breakfast you will begin your new life."

  CHAPTER NINE - THE PRINCESSES

  Dorothea Petroff lay face-downwards on the sand, weeping hysterically, her body shuddering with nausea. She had finally been persuaded, but not until after a dozen hard cuts of the switch across her big, ripe breasts, to suck and lick Ivan Tenkovich's prick. And then he had given her another dozen, warning her to swallow every drop of his spunk. Then, as was expected, the excitement of feeling her trembling mouth and tongue on his swollen ramrod had made him burst inside of her mouth and nearly strangle her gullet with the abundance of his spunk. Finished with her for the time being, he took two pieces of cord and bound her ankles together, drawing them back toward her waist, and then her wrists, which he connected to her ankles; he knew that he had nothing to fear, that she could not attempt to escape, for the knots were solid.

  Then he turned to the two beautiful Princesses Rubutsoff, greedily appraising them. Tanya was really juicy, and in some ways more sexually desirable to him than her older sister Olga. Yet the venomous hatred that flashed from Olga's eyes and the contemptuous curl of her quivering lips, the rise and fall of her magnificent breasts, whetted his lust in some ways even more than Tanya. To make this patrician whore crawl to his feet, lick them, then lick upward from ankle to calf to knee, and then to thigh, and finally to be forced. Her Royal Highness, to lick and suck and kiss his prick-that would be supreme revenge. For her hatred and loathing of him would only give him greater joy when the moment for fucking her and degrading her was at hand.

  He thought he had a way to kill both birds with one stone and enjoy them both. He had never felt so manly, so virile as now. It was as if he had been reborn. Yes, he would begin with Tanya. Still naked, his cock limp and greasy, he strode to the two girls, bent and plunged his left hand into Tanya's luxuriant dark brown hair. Then, thinking better of the idea, he began to unfasten the topknot into which her hair was coiffed, so that it escaped down her lovely shoulders and back. Then gathering a fistful of the silken tresses, he jerked her to her feet.

  "Dirty dog, traitorous scum," Olga ragingly exclaimed. "Let my sister alone! She was only thirteen when it all happened, Tenkovich. How can you blame her for my father's justice?"

  "Because both of you dared to laugh! And if she was thirteen, then you were sixteen, and already playing the great lady, flirting with those officers who visited just a week before! Oh, I remember you, Princess Olga, playing the siren with those damned executioners of the accursed Tsar!" The fury in him made his voice tremble. "Get along now, you little bitch. Maybe your sister is older, but I like the shape of your tits and your juicy ass a lot more! Come along, Your Highness, we're going to play house. The serf and the great lady. Princess Tanya."

  Brutally, he dragged the screaming girl, bound hand and foot already, off towards where Dorothea Petroff still lay, half fainting and exhausted from her brutal ordeal. He rolled her over onto her back with a motion of his toe.

  "Oh, merciful God," Tanya screamed, twisting away as he squatted down and began to fondle her panting breasts with greedy hands through the water-soaked silk of the scanty attire that covered her virginal nakedness. "Oh, dear Olga, help me! I'm afraid!"

  "And not without reason, you little slut." He slapped her face viciously again and again, while his other hand brutally thrust between her thighs, pressing the thin, wet fabric which hid her cunt from him, deep inside so that Tanya could feel the pressure of his fingertips far inside that maiden nook.

  "Perhaps you are beginning to feel just a little Your Highness, of what my wife and mother felt when they were tied to the rafter in the barn, while the soldiers whipped them. Oh, I am going to fuck you-how I am going to fuck you now! And if I don't like the way you fuck, Your Highness, we'll try it over again and there'll be a good switching on your titties and on that naughty little cunt of yours to make you warmer when a man, a real man, decides to put his prick into you."

  Frenzied, Tanya Rubutsoff twisted, trying to escape. He laughed aloud into the silence of the night, the dusky night silence here on this abandoned atoll. Near him still lay the body of poor Dorothea Petroff, naked, ravaged and abused. Just a little farther away, Olga awaited her turn. She had managed to sit up now, and was struggling to break the bonds that held her wrists. He began to tear at Tanya's frail garments, and the lovely bare flesh began to appear at his sides, on her long, lovely thighs, then her waist and the bare belly marked by a wide, shallow navel-dimple. He ripped away only a little fragment of her scanty garments at a time, to prolong the terrifying suspense for the unhappy girl. He felt his prick growing to a new hardness and vigor that enchanted him with his own powers. If only that whore in Sydney could see him now, she wouldn't make disparaging remarks about his being a little man with a little cock!

  "I think, Tanya," he
said hoarsely, "that I'm going to start your lesson by letting you suck and lick my prick until it's ready for that sweet cunt of yours. And then you're going to ask me, very, very, humbly, very nicely.

  'Dear Ivan Tenkovich, I beg you humbly to grant me the honor of fucking my unworthy cunt with your mighty prick, and thus reward your worthless little slave, Princess Tanya-that's what you're going to say, my little beauty, and you'd better remember every word or you'll feel the switch on your little behind and on your titties, and yes, on that spot of yours between your legs. I'm wondering still whether it's virgin, Tanya.. .the way you aristocrats live, I wouldn't be surprised to find you're as wide as a canal there. I remember a family who didn't live many versts from your father, Your Highness. They were all exchanging one another and fucking away like minks. That's aristocrats for you, and that's why we had a revolution."