Chapter 3

 

 

It was about two months after Peter and I arrived on the island that Jake decided we were ready to stage a series of entertainments for the first of his paying guests. By that time there were a round two dozen of us in residence and in training at the island, all of us still constrained against communicating in any way, one pair to another although we were still permitted to speak in low tones to our own partners.

All of us trained all day, every day; we were all now paragons of lithe athleticism and beauty; yes, even the males were beautiful, at least in my eyes. What they thought about themselves, I don’t know.

Oh, I see I haven’t yet mentioned sex. Sex with Jake, that is. His men were not permitted our bodies for they were kept for Jake himself and of course for his patrons. I have to admit he was an expert lover and for this reason kept our sexual training for himself. Each of us girls was brought, one at a time, to his quarters every night and for a couple of hours he trained us in the art of good sex. For those of you who think you just do what comes naturally, believe me, you are wrong!

The art of good sex, like anything else, must be learned and Jake was a good teacher. He showed me how to work muscles inside my vagina I didn’t even know I had. He showed me how to wiggle my body in strange contortions that allowed my partner’s cock to touch nerves I had never felt before while at the same time inflaming him further. And he showed Peter how to control both his libido and his weapon to the nth degree.

How do I know this? Because each of us were taken to his quarters in pairs. Peter had to watch as Jake demonstrated the best techniques for good loving and then I had to watch in turn as Jake felt and fondled Peter’s body — and even raped him, again showing him how to accept anal rape without pain (and me too, for that matter). We both learned the art of oral sex, of intercrural (and in my case inter-mammary) sex; and how to use our fingertips on the erogenous zones of his body to drive a man crazy with lust.

At first I was embarrassed and outraged that I was being forced to perform with Jake while my husband Peter watched — and vice-versa, but then, as the weeks passed and I realised I was learning things very, very few people in the world knew, my attitude to our owner softened. Only on this one issue, mind. I still loathed, hated and abominated him in every other regard for he was a sadistic bastard at all other times. But in his bedroom, he seemed almost human and since we were indeed learning things about sexual pleasure we could never have learned anywhere else, I began to accept his lessons with as good a grace as I could muster.

 

The first batch of guests arrived by seaplane and lost no time in coming to our cage to look us over. We were not training at the time as Jake decided that for his guests to see us as caged animals, as in a zoo, would be an excellent first encounter. Given the depraved and jaded nature of these men, I am not surprised.

And what a sight we must have presented. Each of us about as perfect for our particular bone and muscle structure as we could be: slender but athletic or perhaps slightly more muscular; skins as smooth and fine as any I have ever seen anywhere; all of us beautiful or handsome and totally and utterly hairless below our eyelashes, even the boys’ faces as smooth and hairless as a beardless youth.

And they stood outside the cage and just stared in at us.

Have you ever been on a beach or even walked down the road and come across somebody who struck you as being so good-looking you just wanted to stare and stare at him or her? I have, often; but good manners constrains you. You look — and perhaps look again, but then you tear your eyes away although you just want to stand and stare, don’t you?

Well these men could just stand and look at us as long as they liked — and they liked, all right.

At first, we were free to stand in whatever position we happened to be but then, schooled by Jake’s men to follow a pre-ordained programme (which was triggered by a global tingle to our implants) we began to pose our bodies, moving our arms and legs and torsos in a pattern of movements which displayed our muscles and our whole bodies most provocatively.

The boys’ cocks all began to swell and lengthen, hardening to a full erection while our nipples and clits erected also, actions that were noted with mounting excitement by the twenty men outside the cage.

At the same time we showed off our muscles while jerking and grinding our hips in the age-old parody of love-making. This stage lasted about ten minutes but then Obb went up the line of cages, opening each one and jerking his head to indicate we were to come out. And now it got even worse for our naked bodies were now at the disposal of these men.

Once more we had to resume our obscene display (our sexual organs had remained inflamed, assisted by the implants) but now with the added humiliation of these men fingering our flesh as if we were real slaves on display prior to a sale.

That is exactly what I felt like. A piece of meat. A thing. An object for sale! Perhaps it was just as well I felt like that for that is indeed what I was. Well, not perhaps for sale (I thought then) but at least for hire. In fact, as it turned out, if one of these men offered enough for our bodies we were indeed for sale although Jake only sold us as pairs. One of us remaining was no good to him.

It was really horrible. Peter and I had to stand outside our cage, flexing our muscles and undulating our torsos so that our sex organs looked as if we were making love, while one after the other of them came up and looked us over insolently, daring us to challenge their right to do so and then reaching out to cup my breasts with one hand while the other went down to investigate my so naked vulva.

And Peter had to stand there and take it without a murmur for if he even began to protest, I, not he, would be shocked. Jake had been at pains to inform us that if one partner erred, the other would be punished. He was a master psychologist and his strategy worked perfectly. Peter knew better than to move a muscle while these men fingered me so horribly.

Who were they? Everyone and no-one. I didn’t know a single one of them, even by repute. They were among the world’s richest men but like many in such a position, they craved anonymity and lived very private lives for the most part. No doubt they satisfied their jaded lusts behind the closed doors of their high-walled mansions — but then again, perhaps they didn’t for if they had, they wouldn’t have needed to come here to this remote island in the South China Sea to see us fight; to use us as human ponies; and to enjoy our bodies as whores.

It was as bad for me when these men inspected Peter and I had to watch as when they fingered my own body. I knew he didn’t have a homosexual bone in his body although he had learned the sex lessons Jake had taught him very well. He could perform as a male whore with other men, but I knew he hated it. And to have these men feel his muscles, stroke his so boyish buttocks and then feel and excite his erect cock while they stared into his beautiful brown eyes was sheer hell for him.

Who were they? They came from everywhere. There were Europeans, two of which I knew had to have come from England and Germany respectively from their accents. There were Arabs amongst them. Some of them were Asians although I’m not sure which countries they came from, and there were even a couple of black Africans, one of whom was the living image of Idi Amin, even to his bulk (the other was tall and handsome and I think he came from somewhere in West Africa).

But one thing they all had in common. It was sadism. I had seen it in Jake’s eyes and in Obb’s and for that matter with most of Jake’s men. These men were even worse. They had paid the thousands of American dollars Jake charged for a three day visit to see us hurt each other in obscene naked fights; to enjoy lashing our sweating backs as they drove us up and down the now multitudinous paths that we had cut through the trees and scrub which covered the island; and I guessed sex with these men was not going to be a gentle loving thing. It promised to be violent, probably painful for us and possibly even vicious. I glanced at Peter’s face and saw he had come to the same conclusions.

We were in for a bad time of it, no mistake about it.

They had arrived in the middle of the afternoon and after looking us over and partaking of some refreshment, we were straight into it. A fight was scheduled before dinner. At dinner some, as naked waiters and waitresses would serve them at table, the girls amongst us serving the food and removing the empty plates; the boys acting as drink waiters. Others of us assisted in the kitchen.

Dinner over, another fight was scheduled. On the second day, during the morning, they could bid on us for a turn or two around the island in the gigs and then in the afternoon and evening, two more fights. There was one more chance the next morning to drive us around the island and then they were off.

I will detail the fights on that first occasion to the best of my ability.

The first was a wrestling match. A regular one, rather than one of the bizarre bouts between a boy and girl with the boy’s thumb clipped to the hook up his rectum.

It was between two girls, one of them an American named Sonya, the other a statuesque Chinese girl named Chin. Like all of us they had beautiful bodies, both tanned lightly, both superbly muscled — slim, without an ounce of fat but still very, very feminine, their breasts both full but perfectly upstanding.

They faced up to one another, crouching down like large cats ready to spring, hands out in front, wary, fingers curling, ready to grasp, their bodies circling each other, waiting for the chance to leap onto the other and bring her crashing down.

Jake had given each of us a huge incentive to win our bouts. “Winners will be permitted a night in a guest bure with his or her partner on a real bed with satin sheets; losers will hang upside down all day and face twenty strokes of the whip to his or her body at sundown. You will not be scheduled to fight your partner so there will be no conflict but if, on a later occasion, I decide that you will fight him or her, other arrangements will be made.”

It is no wonder therefore that Sonya and Chin were concentrating hard. The winner would have a night of bliss with her man after the guests had gone home; the loser would be strung up by her ankles to hang there all night and the next day, waiting for the evening when she would suffer unspeakable agony, watched by Jake, his guests and his men — and us. We were also made to watch each bout, standing around behind the chairs for the guests (and incidentally acting as waiters to serve their passing needs).

Chin saw her chance and leapt. It was a move that would have made Rudolph Nureyev proud. Like her opponent, she had been crouching — and then there was this almighty leap which had her right over Sonya to land behind her, catching her completely unawares. In the next second, while Sonya was still gathering her wits from the shock of the almighty leap, Chin had her in a hold from the back and was bending her body backwards, exposing her fine breasts and her belly, sex and powerful thighs wonderfully.

Standing behind ‘Idi Amin’ I stared in awe at the manoeuvre. It wasn’t one we had been taught and Chin must have worked it out privately, perhaps in secret consultation with her partner, a tall and beautifully built man named Zong.

But Sonya was no slouch when it came to wrestling. She slithered out from under the other girl’s hold and, turning to face her, brought her knee up in a vicious kick between her legs, the bone of her knee thudding into Chin’s vagina.

You have to remember these fights were ‘no holds barred’ affairs. You could kick, gouge, punch, bite, twist an arm off — anything at all. Jake had been at pains to tell us this and that his guests wanted to see blood. He didn’t care if we faked the wounds — a fingernail cutting a superficial wound somewhere on our bodies, as long as it looked real. In each kind of fight, the emphasis naturally was on the style of fight, thus punches were not encouraged in wrestling matches or wrestling holds in boxing fights, but the occasional lapse was encouraged as being ‘innovative’.

What Sonya had just done to Chin was therefore okay as long as she didn’t make a habit of it. She didn’t. She followed up that knee jab with a jump that had her thighs around Chin’s slender waist, squeezing her in the classic scissors grip. The pair of them fell to the mat and now Chin showed her pain as Sonya squeezed her body hard.

But the Chinese girl was hardy, as were we all. She was well prepared to extricate herself from such a hold and had soon twisted her slim body out of it, retaliating with an arm around Sonya’s neck, twisting her torso down sideways while punching her belly.

The pair of them looked superb. Both were now sweating freely and the moisture gilded their already sleek bodies perfectly. Their muscles stood out like the frieze in a Greek temple, cording and rippling, especially those in their bellies and thighs but their shoulders and arms too, looked magnificent. Hell, their whole bodies looked wonderful.

Now though, it was time for blood and I saw Chin cut Sonya’s right flank. The blood flowed immediately and straight away I noticed the increased excitement on the faces and in the body language of the seated guests in front of me. What animals, I thought bitterly. Getting off on the pain and blood of naked female slaves, forced to fight for their sadistic pleasure.

Oh how I wanted to reach down and strangle the fat neck of the man in front of me. I tell you, it was only that implant in my body that stopped me for if I had done so, I know my fellow slaves would have followed suit and overpowered our guards as well. As it was, it was a foolish notion and one I dismissed as soon as it entered my mind for any of the guards present would immediately have touched the red button on his controller that sent a global paralysing punishment shock to our implants, causing each of us to collapse to the ground, writhing and screaming in pain.

The fight progressed. Both girls were now bleeding from various superficial wounds in their bodies but both were seriously hurting, too. The fight had gone on, non-stop, for the best part of an hour and the girls were tired for they were really putting their all into it. Hell, the incentive to win and the penalty for failure to do so were real encouragements!

It was Sonya who won in the end but there was very little in it. The pair of them were escorted from the ring, both to be washed and any wounds treated by Dr Sing and then Sonya could bathe in the expectation of a night with her man while poor Chin had to face her punishment.

They took her away immediately to be strung up for her punishment the next day. This was a ritual that the guests delighted in but which we came to loath and fear. We all had to troop outside to watch her prepared.

Jake had set up a gallows out in the compound. This was comprised of two sturdy uprights set about twenty feet apart. They were at least twelve feet high and dangling from the crosspiece across their tops, about a foot in from the upright poles, were two pulleys. A double pulley hung from the centre of the pole. Through all of these were reeved ropes on the ends of which were buckles.

Chin was dragged over to the grass beneath the gallows and forced down on her belly while the guards pulled down the rope from the left hand pulley as well as one of those at the centre and buckled the manacles on their ends around her ankles, after which they stood up and began pulling on the other ends of the ropes, dragging her feet up into the air. When she was hanging with her legs drawn out wide and her hands about a foot off the grass, they tied off the ropes.

We didn’t leave immediately, however. Now the guests strolled in and took it in turns to finger her naked body in its new state — upside down. We slaves were escorted away, though. We had to prepare to wait on those bastards at dinner.

Dinner was a horrible affair. Oh, not the waiting part. I have no delusions of status and neither has Peter. It was what they did to us while we were waiting on them that was so awful, for they had open slather on us as we moved in beside them to deliver a plate or take away an empty one. Their hands would come out and stroke we girls’ thighs and bottom cheeks, reach up to maul our breasts and worst, to delve into our slits, tickling our clits as they tried to unsettle us.

It was as bad for the boys for their cocks, already rampant on orders from Jake, came in for masturbatory fondles while their balls were grasped and pulled painfully and their buttocks stroked.

Some even ordered us to turn around, bend over and spread our nether cheeks so they could poke a finger or two into our anuses!

And this sort of thing went on right through the meal while Jake looked on, applauding his guests’ efforts and remarking how good our bodies were and that after the evening fight that night, we would all be put up for auction so they could enjoy our sexual favours, the boys as well as us girls!

This set the tone of the evening and after listening to him, their fingers became even more intrusive, delving right into my vagina while I had to stand there and take it. It was awful and I wondered then how often his guests would be coming out so that we had to take this kind of abuse. He hadn’t told us this — yet, and when he did, I slumped in resignation, for it was going to be on a weekly basis, it seemed. We would have three days with them there and then four days of hard training. Only if too many of us were incapacitated by our fights, would this schedule be relaxed for Jake was in the business for money. Money and the salacious delight he got from the enterprise.

Of course new couples were arriving all the time for he well knew we wouldn’t be able to fight well every week or so. Our bodies, good and all as they were, just wouldn’t be able to stand the strain. And every one of them went through the same initiation as we had and then started on their training.

After dinner, another fight was to be staged, his one between two of the boys.

This fight was a boxing match — a regular boxing match, at least ostensibly, although once again, just about anything went.

They wore gloves but they were much thinner than the usual boxing gloves. The boys were of course naked and both were rampant—all the boys had been trained to erect their cocks and to keep them that way through all our training sessions, even the pony-gig training and this was so they could do it almost unconsciously during a real fight.

The protagonists this time were a tall and well-muscled black boy from West Africa and a huge Korean who matched the African for height and weight and whose muscles were even more spectacular.

There was no bell and no rounds. Hell, there wasn’t even a referee. The pair of them climbed into the ring and then they were at it, punching, feinting, twisting and dancing as a good boxer does. In the beginning they both stuck largely to regular boxing but then the Korean brought his knee up into the black boy’s groin, mashing his balls painfully and he fell back, his face going grey with the agony of the attack.

The Korean rushed in but the other boy, realising this could well be the end of the fight and that he could end up hanging upside down beside Chin, rallied his strength and was ready for his opponent, using his headlong rush to assist in slamming his fist straight into the boy’s surprised face and following it up with a series of body-bruising punches to his chest and belly and even getting in a superb kick so that the instep of his foot landed even harder on the other boy’s testicles than his had been to him.

The fight went on but that kick had been the deciding factor. I suspect that if the Korean hadn’t kicked him first, Mambo might not have retaliated and the fight may well have gone the other way. As it was, Park lost after an exhausting fight and now, both of them weary and bloody, he was dragged, almost bodily out to be hosed down and then hung up beside Chin, his big body now dangling forlornly and in about as humiliating a manner as could be imagined for a human being.

 

But then it was time for the auction.

Those of us who were left were now paraded up onto the ring, from which the ropes and posts had now been removed and one by one, until each of us had been sold, we were auctioned. It was a real auction for real money and as I stood there in the line, waiting for my turn to mount the block — yes, Jake even had a real slave block on which we had to stand as he offered our bodies for sexual use — I felt yet another wash of burning shame that I was being so evilly used.

By this time were more than two dozen of us in all and taking Chin and Park out of the equation meant there would be only two of us not bought, assuming each of the men wanted one of us—or so I thought.

Not so. As he gestured for the first girl to come out he frowned and the guard behind her pushed her partner out with her. Oh God, I thought, we were to auctioned as a pair so about half the guests would miss out and this would make the price rise decidedly. Jake was certainly a smart businessman, I thought. But what would the boy do while his partner was raped, I wondered. Foolish me. I found out—and very rapidly.

All deals were done in American dollars and as I heard the bids mounting on the first pair, a Swedish couple named Erik and Inge, I wondered what on Earth was going to happen for I was sure no brothel charged anything like the sums the guests were now bidding on this pair. It kept going up and up, well over a thousand dollars, then two, and still it was rising.

I looked up at them standing so close together on the wooden block and marvelled at their beauty. Blond, naturally, with very fine, soft golden hair, beautiful skin and physiques to make any person drool, they could well have been international models. What they actually were, I have no idea for the rule against communication was rigidly enforced the whole time we were there and the only way I knew their names was from hearing the guards use them.

They were sold for two and a half thousand dollars — for a single night or rather half a night for we were all to be collected at two in the morning and so their buyer had paid that enormous (to me) sum for a mere five hours of sex. It was unbelievable but then I wasn’t used to billionaires and what they were prepared to pay for their pleasures.

The other pairs followed suit and as Peter’s and my turn came closer I began to panic. I had loved sex with Peter and I had at first put up with and then appreciated the lessons Jake gave the pair of us in the sexual arts but now our bodies were actually being auctioned for the right to use them as the buyer thought fit. We would have no say in it at all, unlike regular prostitutes who could set the limits. Not us. Jake had been at pains to inform us that anything went, short of breaking our bodies or actually killing us and if the man wished to maul our flesh or paddle our rumps instead of actually raping us, then that was fine with him and if there was a complaint the next day, we would be in for it — the pair of us.

The act was as bad as the thought.

We were bought by ‘Idi Amin’… We never got to hear their real names but even if I had, I would still have thought of this man in the terms of the Ugandan dictator for he was not only like him in appearance but in reputation as well.

We were delivered to his bure by a guard who then stationed himself outside the door, just in case. The huge man was now wearing just a silk robe and his enormous body swelled out alarmingly under it. As the door closed on the guard, he now removed it and I stared in revulsion at the mass of blubber standing before me. It started with his fat cheeks, went down the neck, which was so thick you would be forgiven for thinking his head was perched right on top of his shoulders. His chest was more like a woman’s pendulous breasts and below that the rolls of fat in his belly wobbled horribly. His thighs were like tree trunks but were more masses of blubber although by now my eyes were drawn to his genitals.

He was apparently naturally hairless but even so, I couldn’t believe the appendage that now dangled down to his knees, or almost. It really was that long! And behind its root were a pair of the biggest balls I have even seen on a man. Massive things as big as large duck eggs.

“First I wish to spank the pair of you,” he boomed as he sat down in a chair he brought from the bathroom. It was like an old-fashioned kitchen chair and I wondered (quite inconsequentially) if it would support his massive weight. It did and then he gestured to me to bend over his knees while he began to wale into my bottom with his huge hand.

I suppose he gave me a dozen or so slaps, each of them painful — but bearable, and then he pushed me off and ordered Peter to take my place. I think he was even harder with him and after his dozen slaps, ordered me to fetch him a paddle out of a bureau in the room. I paled but obeyed him, handing the thing that looked like a wooden ping-pong bat to him.

He then gave Peter another dozen strokes — very hard, on his now very red butt cheeks while my man squirmed and wiggled very erotically. Idi grinned as his free hand held my husband’s body close in to his gargantuan belly but then he pushed him off and spread his legs wide, revealing a cock that was now half aroused.

“Get your mouth in here, white boy, and suck me hard,” he said.

I paled as I watched this scene unfold. Would Peter do it? I knew he had been trained by Jake how to do this, but that had been on Jake’s fine body, not on this lump of lard and in any case, I guessed the fat man would want a full penetration and I thought that monster cock would go all the way down to his stomach!

Peter obeyed, though, for which I was very glad as Jake’s punishments, apart from his use of the implants that is, were legendary, as poor Park and Chin were going to find out on the morrow. He got up from his sprawled position on the floor and edged forward and I could see he was trying not to look at the rolls of suet before him, concentrating only on the already half-hard weapon before him and how he was going to get that monster into his mouth and down his throat.

He managed, somehow, placing his hands on the pudgy thighs and bobbing his head down onto the enormous thing, scooping it into his mouth and beginning to work it with his lips.

“And now you, white slut, straddle his head so I can feel your flesh,” he spat, grinning salaciously up at me.

I felt sick. Oh God. Could I? Yes, I had to. I moved up to Peter’s kneeling position in front of the monster and climbed over his upper body and then, following orders for an inspection, raised my hands up to clasp them behind my head and began to undulate my middle for his pleasure. At least I didn’t have to look down on him now for this position required us to bend our heads back to expose our throats so that if we looked at anything at all, it was the ceiling.

But I could now feel his pudgy hands on my belly, sliding up and down, then reach up to grasp both my breasts while my husband, perched down between my outstretched thighs, continued to bob his head up and down on the now rapidly growing monster-cock.

Idi’s hands now came back down my belly — apparently he liked my prominent belly muscles for he spent a long time with his fingertips just grazing over them, but then he moved down to my vagina, now right in front of his round, sweaty black face, and began to investigate the inner reaches of that so sensitive organ. He toyed with my clit, pulling it painfully then teased the organ itself to arouse me, then delved in deeper, his face (when I brought myself to looked down at it) now wreathed in almost beatific smiles as he took in my body — but more so, I think, my shame and humiliation at what he was doing to the pair of us.

This went on for quite a few minutes, at least until Peter had fully aroused the man’s giant pecker. And giant is the operative word. For all his unhealthy bulk, his cock was now rigid — and it was absolutely enormous. It stood straight up from his hairless groin — right up to his pendulous chest. It had to be eighteen inches long, I swear! And it was also thick. As thick as my wrist, I would wager.

He pushed me away and then did the same to Peter and now grabbed my hand, spinning me around and threw me onto the bed then turned back to Peter. “I require you to fuck me while I rape your wife, white boy,” he snarled. “And don’t get any ideas. The guard is watching and both your numbers are already programmed into his controllers. One wrong move and you both get a real shock…”

I slumped as I stared up at him standing beside the bed. And then he was on me, his massive prong now spearing into me while Peter had now to mount him from behind, thrusting his own very respectable cock in between those mountainous buttocks.

I now realised the reason for this. The man had no puff. He was so huge that any exertion at all soon had him exhausted and Peter’s thrusting into his rectum in turn pushed his cock into me.

He required me to hold his body as he raped me and this was also horrible. If you know anything about fatty tissue on a human body, you will know that it feels cold and clammy, unlike muscled flesh which is smooth and warm. He had so much fat on his body there was no warmth at all and it was as repulsive to the touch as, say, a wet frog.

But I also had to kiss him. His face slobbered over mine as his fat arms pulled my head in close to his and all the time, Peter was going hell for leather, realising that once this monster was spent, he would probably be exhausted and hopefully fall asleep and we could depart.

And so it was, but it took an hour or more before that happy moment. An hour of revulsion and horror that the pair of us were being forced to conjoin with that repulsive mountain. But then I felt his seed jet into me and it seemed like only seconds after that that he rolled backwards — and Peter only had a moment to pull out and get away before the mountain squashed him.

But then the guard came in, staring with as much revulsion as we had felt over the last couple of hours at the now snoring mass of blubber and curtly gestured to us to get up and follow him out of the room and back to our cage.