INTRODUCTION

 

Readers of Bianca's Island Part 1 will be familiar with the fantastic ambience of this unique slave-girl colony.  Under Bianca's direction, some sixty or so young slave-girls are kept captive.  They are under training, largely of a sexual nature, but the majority are fully trained and always available for the amusement and lustful satisfaction of Bianca's guests, of either sex.

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

Personal Narrative of Patina Gomez

 

I lay on my broad double bed feeling delightfully relaxed.  Some ten minutes previously, Jason Belmont, a fellow guest of Bianca, had been fucking me most beautifully.  He had done it strongly, but slowly and gently, thrusting and thrusting for what seemed a remarkably long time.  Now, at my side, he was sleeping peacefully.  I was cradling his limp prick in my hand.  Though limp, it still felt pleasantly large and solid.  It was definitely one of your better sex muscles.

It made me smile at the recollection of what he had said while he was shafting me. 'It's a pleasant change to have a genuine fuck,' he said.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Obvious, I should have thought.  I mean, it's all very well to fuck slave-girls, but they have to perform whether they like it or not.  You do it because you love doing it.”

“Too true,” I sighed.  “I do love it.  Oh Jason ... fuck me stronger ...”

He smirked at that.  “I'll fuck you as I wish,” he said.  And continued in his slow, powerful, rhythmic way.  I loved him for that.

“Do you fuck many slave-girls?” I asked, feeling suddenly oddly jealous.

“One or two a day,” he answered.  “Maybe more.”

“Sex maniac!”

“Look who's talking!  How many of the girls do you have go down to you?”

He had me there.  “About the same, I suppose.”  You must understand that I am bi-sexual.  I love a good hard prick, but I also love the softness of a woman's mouth.

Finally, Jason had brought me to an exquisite, prolonged orgasm.  It turned me into a quivering jelly of delight.  What a marvellous man!  He deserved a rest.  I wondered idly if, in half an hour or so, he would fuck me again.  I would like him to ... but, maybe, he had had a couple of slave-girls earlier on and so might be running out of stamina.  I would have to wait and see.

My gaze wandered to the girl who knelt in the far corner in the obligatory slave posture.  That is to say, with nose to the floor, hindquarters raised to the maximum, thighs splayed wide, I had had her sent up earlier, just before Jason arrived, so that she could warm me up ready for him.  She did a quite capable job, as one would expect of a trained slave.  If she hadn't done, I would, of course, have asked for her to be punished.  And that would certainly have been carried out.

As I had often done before, I mused on what it must be like for an attractive young woman to have to do as she was doing.  Kept permanently naked, having to display herself in the most utterly blatant fashion, being fucked by any male who took a fancy to her, having to service any woman on demand.  Frankly, such an existence was difficult for me to contemplate to the full.  It was just too horrendous.  On the other hand, the idea of such an existence thrilled me.  To be able to create such an existence; to perpetuate it.  Bianca was a quite remarkable woman.

You will understand at once, when I make such statements, that I am a thorough-going sadist.  I love cruelty.  Especially cruelty to women.  I love to hear them beg and scream; I love to watch them writhe in torment.  Above all, I love the idea of their abject abasement.  Though they have all the equipment, they are not so much women any more but objects.

Oh dear God, what can that be like?

Just to think about it frightens me.

Yet all around me, on this island of Bianca's, there must be fifty or sixty such creatures.  Maybe more.  Some are still being trained; others are now the playthings of Bianca's guests.

Jason stirred but did not wake.  I wondered how long it would be before he did.  I was getting a little bored.  I squeezed his cock gently but got no response.  Something must be done to alleviate my boredom.

“Slave,” I ordered, yawning, “crawl to my bedside.”

The naked girl in the corner turned at once and came on hands and knees to my bed.  She was quite pretty, with curly blonde hair, cut short.  She knelt at the side of the bed, hands on top of her head, looking at me with nervous apprehension.  Her dark blue eyes were clouded with resigned despair.  For the moment, I tried to put myself in her place, thinking about what her emotions must be.  She must have known that she was utterly in my power.  I could amuse myself with her as I wished; I could have her punished if she did not satisfy me.  It was difficult to conceive of anything more appalling for such a young woman.  No wonder her lips were quivering.  I stretched out my hand and gave one of her nipples a sharp pinch.

“A-Ahhhh ...” she gasped, trying not to recoil.  If a guest does such a thing to a slave, she must proffer herself more fully, in case the guest wishes to repeat the act.  This girl did so, trembling.

“What's your name, girl?”

“Merena, Ma'am,” she answered.  At once I slapped her face, jerking her head round.

“I like to be addressed as 'Miss',” I stated.

“I ... I beg p-pardon, Miss,” she said, cheek flaming but obviously trying to overlook the unjust slap.  May I say that it is lovely to slap the face of a girl for no good reason.  It is a small but potent symbol of one's power.  And, oh, how I love power!

“How old are you, Merena?”

“Nineteen, Miss.”

“Been here long?”  The pretty face quivered.

“S-Six ... or maybe ... s-seven months now, Miss,” answered Merena.

“Fully trained, of course?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“How long did your training take, Merena?”  More quivering over that pretty face.

“A-About s-six weeks, Miss.  Possibly two months ...”

“Not very pleasant, eh?”  A large, single tear ejected itself from the girl's right eye and rolled slowly down her cheek.

“N-No ... no ... M-Miss ...”  I smiled at her. It was nice to torment a girl in this way.  To arouse old memories she would much prefer to forget.

“Do you get fucked often, Merena?”  A gulp.

“More or less ... every day, Miss.”

“Several times?”

“Often, Miss.”  I tweaked her other nipple and she gasped again.  Recoiling but then thrusting back her breasts almost instantly.  Nice that.  I tweaked her nipple again.  Another gasp and the process was repeated.

“You've got quite good tits, girl,” I said.  “I imagine you are quite popular?”

“Y-Yes ... yes ... I suppose so, Miss ...”  Merena was trembling slightly but incessantly.  A normal person would have felt sorry for her ... but I am a sadist and I did not.

“Do you know, Merena,” I went on, “I have just had a marvellous fucking from this gentleman here.  Mr Jason Belmont.  Has he ever fucked you?”

“Y-Yes, Miss ...” I smiled again.

“There is, you will understand, slave, a whole world of difference between being fucked by a man because you want it and because you have to.  You realise that?”

“Y-Yes, Miss.”  The curly blonde head nodded.

“I wanted his cock and I enjoyed it.  You did not want his cock and most probably didn't enjoy it.  Would that sum up the situation?”

“Y-Yes, Miss ...”  Another nod.

“That is the essential difference.”  Another friendly smile from me.  “Do you like being fucked, Merena?  The truth now ...”

“No ... no, Miss ... not really.”

“Not really.  I suppose you mean by that, there are times when you are made to come.  And that's not entirely unpleasant, eh?”

“Yes, Miss.”  The voice was a whisper.

“Do you often come, Merena?”

“N-Not very often, Miss.”

“So, as far as you are concerned, Merena, fucking is merely a slave duty?”

“Yes ... yes ... I suppose so, Miss.”  I was enjoying myself with this little intimate dialogue.

“Do you prefer men to women?”  I asked.

There was quite a long silence.  “I ... I don't like either, Miss,” came the ultimate reply.

“Oh dear ... oh dear ... you are unfortunate.  You felt quite enthusiastic when you were licking my sex ...”

“Yes, Miss ...”

“Because you had to, eh, I suppose?”

“Yes, Miss.”  Oh God, what an existence I thought yet again!  Then I stretched out my hand to the telephone on my bedside table.  There was a click, then a voice.

“Room Service,” it said.

“This is Miss Gomez.”

“Yes, Miss Gomez.”

“Send a Trainer or an Overseer up to my room, please.”

“Certainly, Miss Gomez.”

“A nice gross one, if available.”

“Very well, Miss Gomez.  Allow me a few minutes.”

“Sure thing.”  Merena's face was a picture of dismay.  Another big tear rolled down.  I shook her curly locks gently.  “I'm going to have you fucked, my pretty,” I said.

A single sob jetted from her quivering mouth.  She said nothing.  I lay there, revelling in the power I possessed.  Able, on a whim, to send for some brute male to fuck this girl.  Nothing she could do about it.  She simply had to accept and endure.  All my doing.  Lovely!

“Have you been fucked today, Merena?” I asked.

“Y-Yes, Miss.  One of the guests sent for me.”

“Name?”

“I ... I don't know his name, Miss.  He is an elderly gentleman.”

“But did he know your name?”

“No, Miss. He just sent for any girl.  I was chosen.”

“I see ... I see.  Sometimes you're in luck, sometimes you're not.”  Yet another smile from me.  “I wonder what's on the way to you now?  Feeling excited?”

The pretty young face twitched.  “N-No ... Miss ...”

“Hmmmm ... I wonder.  After an elderly man, I should have thought you might be looking forward to something more substantial.  Still, as you've already told me, you're not all that keen on fucking.  Or sex games in general, it seems.  That's a pity, for there's plenty of it around this place.”  I grinned at her.  Oh how she must hate me!  I loved the idea, because she was powerless to do anything about it.  Just a slave.  A slave to be used.  For amusement.

Jason still lay quiescent, snoring softly.  I reckon I must have taken a lot out of him.  All the same, I was determined to try and take some more out of him.  I squeezed his cock again.  It was mine and I wanted it.  Young Merena was shortly going to get a cock she didn't want at all.  Oh that ocean of difference!

There came a knock on the door.  “Enter,” I said.

The door swung open and a mountain of a man came in.  He was white, or rather faintly yellow, Mongolian in appearance.  His head was bald and he had pale blue eyes.  But, if he lacked hair on his head, he made up for it on his body.  His chest was matted with thick brown hair as was his protuberant belly.  Legs and arms were equally hirsute.  In the mirror, I could see that his back, even his buttocks, were partially tufted.  Quite some gorilla!  He bowed, then smiled, showing yellowish teeth.

“You rang for me, Miss?” he said.  I was aware that Merena was shuddering, her breasts rising and falling fast.

“Your name?”  This brute was certainly revolting.  Among the most revolting I had yet seen on the island.

“Goran,” he said.

“You know this slave?”  Merena was now quivering with dread.

“I know something of her, Miss.  I did not train her.”

“Have you fucked her?”

“Yes, Miss.  Several times.”

“Did you enjoy her?”

“Adequate, I think, Miss.”

“Well, now you are going to fuck her again, Goran.  Let's have look at your equipment.”

There was a sighing moan from Merena as Goran removed the leather pouch he wore.  The hairiness continued, almost engulfing his organ.  This was not particularly long but was very thickly girthed.  Solidly stubby might be the word for it.  It made me feel a little sick to look upon it.  The idea of being ravaged by such a paunchy, hirsute brute made my mind reel.  Doubtless, Merena's mind was reeling as well but she was going to have to accept the fact.

“Nice looking cock, isn't it, slave?” I said.  Merena moaned.  I slapped her face again.  “Well ... answer me!”

She shook her head.  Ohh ... ooooh ... no Miss ...”

“Slaves can't be choosy,” I snapped.  “They get what cock meat there is coming to them.  And this looks like a nice solid piece of meat.”  I noticed that Goran was already swelling and stiffening.  I nodded to him.  “Have a feel of her if you like,” I said.

Goran lumbered round the bed, with Merena recoiling instinctively.  She could scarcely be blamed, I thought.  Ugghh ... what a horror!  His big belly bounced and wallowed; his hairy thighs were like tree trunks.  Then Merena was seized by the hair and hauled up.  She cried out in shocked horror as first her breasts and then her sex was mauled.  Then Goran turned her completely upside down, holding the girl by her ankles.  Having splayed her thighs, he began to tongue the girl's slit with lavish abandon.  Merena twisted and turned, crying out.  I was amazed Jason did not wake up.  Pausing for a moment, Goran grinned at me.  “I love the taste of a young cunt,” he said.

“Help yourself,” I replied with a deferential wave of my hand.

Goran went on tonguing for another minute or so ... then he forced Merena down over the edge of my bed.  “Get your arse up, slave,” he grunted.  Merena complied with this hideous order.  Goran had become solidly into erection.  The thickly-girthed penis was now even more thickly-girthed but, I reckoned, no more than six inches in length.  A brute of a thing all the same.

I hauled up Merena's tear-stained, quivering face, using her hair, as Goran came down behind her.  There was a bestial grunt as he thrust in and Merena's features seemed to dissolve in revulsion, a gasping wail of pain and horror coming from her wide-gaping mouth.

The look in her dark despairing eyes was something to be remembered.

Something to be enjoyed.

A look that was utterly understandable in view of the circumstances.

I personally would rather have died than be subjected to such a foul rape from so bestial a man.

But, on Bianca's Island, a slave has no such option.  She cannot die.  At the outset she is brain-washed so as to make it impossible to kill herself.  And, even more important, to harm anyone who assaults her.

I smiled at Merena's contorted features.  “How does that feel, slave?”  I enquired.

She couldn't answer.  Only make gasping-choking sounds.  She was threshing around and Goran's hands were clasping her breasts, squeezing cruelly.  He was thumping away brutishly.

“Make it last, Goran,” I said sharply.  “I want this girl to enjoy it.”

Goran slowed his pace.  Saliva was dribbling from one corner of his mouth.  “Whatever you say, Miss,” he nodded.

“Precisely ... whatever I say Goran.  I want this to be a good, long, steady fuck.  If possible, I would like you to make Merena achieve an orgasm.”

“I ... hhhaaa ... hhhhaaa ... I'll t-try, Miss ...”

He had worked into a steady rhythm, his big belly thumping and thumping against Merena's buttocks.  It must have been a quite hideous experience for the girl.  She was weeping and constantly wailing and moaning.  I tried to think what that short truncheon of a cock must feel like ... pounding and pounding away ... but had to divert my mind from it.  Too frightful.  Yet wildly exciting for me ... since it was I who had organised this congress between beauty and the beast.

“Enjoying it, Merena?” I asked, grinning and shaking her curly head.

She could only shake her head and go on gasping and groaning.

“Don't tell me you don't enjoy this hairy beast fucking you!”