The story centres on Sylvie Kristovski, a beautiful 18-year-old blue-eyed blonde from Riga, Latvia who is the whore-slave of the phenomenally well-endowed Igor Gregorovski, a gangster from Odessa.
He takes her to the Islas de los Diablos for a holiday and to perform in a mysterious event referred to as ‘The Festival’. The small mid-ocean archipelago is the domain of the insatiable Eduardo Satanas who lives there with some 6,000 slaves plus a private army consisting of 800 gorgeous looking bitch-guards.
Already a wanton nymphet, Sylvia experiences the effects of a special type of sexually-liberating pineapple. It stimulates her libido even more and fires up a sadistic streak. During a few hectic days, she indulges in all manner of sex: oral, vaginal, anal, lesbian, double-penetration, group and interracial. She willingly takes part in the beating and flogging of female slaves as well as in castrating and killing male slaves to save her own life.
During ‘The Festival’, she finds herself in an arena fighting for her life and when she triumphs Eduardo Satanas rewards her with a special position in his organisation.
EXTRACT
“Fuck my whore. Make her howl,” Gregor said, Sylvie noticing he was
pulling his zipper.
“Yes, master,” the slave replied.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stood on her toes, thinking
about putting her left leg behind the small of his back. Realising it
would block Gregor’s view, she used the right instead.
Holding his prick with one hand, he used his spare fingers to spread
her opening.
“Oooh,” she cooed, it was desperately craving attention. Using his
neck to lever, she pulled herself into the air, lowering, impaling her
saturated snatch onto his warm black rod. “Oooh, wow!” she moaned,
almost coming on his first thrust. It was not his size or technique,
simply that her peach was so juicy from hours of stimulation.
His hands cupped her bum cheeks, helping her ride up and down.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder, you animal!” she implored. She was a
whore, she knew for her mother had called her one, Gregor too.
Performing sex was becoming like taking breath, vital and constant.
It was simply a pity there was no man who could slake her ardour.
1212 responded by thrusting vigorously, she grinding down with
mounting abandon, gratification building. Digging her nails into his
back, she locked her mouth onto his. Pushing her tongue deep into his
moist orifice, she explored whilst he did his best to suck on it.
“Oh god, this is what I needed,” she thought, climax rippling though
her. Perspiration oozing out of her pores was forming rivulets, some
trickling into her eyes and stinging. She loved the feel of
slithering her wet skin against his equally lubricated body, it a
primeval feeling that spurred her on. Crooking her left leg, she
locked both ankles together hugging him in tight embrace.
Looking over his shoulder, she could see Gregor playing with his
dong, she intending to milk it too before she was much older. The
slave started to grunt. Reaching down with her left hand, she
squeezed his balls, gripping the base of his shaft to make him hold
back. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she hollered. “You fucking animal, drill my
cunt! Come on, harder, harder!”
Pushing her against the huge mirror that covered the partition wall,
it separating bedroom from walk-in robe, he humped harder and harder,
her back sliding about on the smooth surface. Contractions deep down
started racking her virginal area, her muscles squeezing his manhood
tighter. “Harder! Harder! Harder!” she shrieked.
“Come in her cunt!” Gregor commanded.
1212 was grunting. Another wave of sexual delight was building in
her pussy. “Spray inside me!” she demanded.
His body tensed, she knowing he would soon be coming. He snorted.
She caused her cunt to contract at her moment of orgasm, he squirting
semen where it was meant to go. Slobbering a kiss to his mouth, she
lapped sweat from his face, grateful he had given her a much-needed
sexual release.
