by Mark Andrews
But then Jake applied the current to my clit and that really got my attention.
“Trot on, slave,” he yelled, “or I will give you a real jolt to remind you of your task!”
Now I had a real incentive to perform. Those shocks were really the pits. All of us were so scared of them that we would do anything to avoid them — and I mean that almost literally. I forced my mind to somehow sublimate the intense pleasure of the orgasm into renewed energy in my thighs and legs and although it was perhaps the most difficult mental and physical exercise I had ever forced my body into, I did succeed and after that, as each successive orgasm built into a crescendo, I managed to blot out the so intense and incredible pleasure and think only of running.
By now, they had increased the pace further and we were actually galloping around the perimeter of the compound and of course this made the excitation of my clit by the frontal dildo even worse but still, through it all, I did keep running, my thoughts now centred partly on that and partly on the threat of another shock to my clit if I failed.
I have to say the pressure on me was awful. If you can imagine yourself at the height of the best orgasm you have ever felt and then suddenly be forced to do something else, while it is still going on, you will know how I felt, for those climaxes were really the best. Peter was (and is) a great lover but the combination of the adrenalin coursing through my body, the effects of the violent exercise and of the two dildos exciting my clit and other sexual organs from front and rear at the same time while I pounded around the compound was really something else.
I glanced across at him whenever I could and that added to my sexual thrill for watching as his body, now honed to an even better male physique than before and harnessed in that bizarre bridle and dildo and clasp arrangement, made him look absolutely stupendous, his sleek muscles scintillating in the sunlight, his sweat gilding his already lightly tanned body beautifully. I know I shouldn’t have made it worse for myself by staring at him but I couldn’t help it. He was my husband, my lover and my best friend and I loved him to bits and now that his body was, at least in my opinion, the best in the world, I just couldn’t not look at him.
Fortunately, we only had to do a couple of laps at the full gallop and then we were steered back into the centre and the black pair were harnessed and tried out in our places. My two holes were now on fire — just about literally. My anus burned and screamed at me and so did my frontal orifice. I was sure neither would ever be of any use to me again. I was wrong. Both of them calmed down quite quickly, actually, a result I thought miraculous and from then on, every few days, we were each exercised on the gigs for longer and longer periods at a time until we girls’ anuses and vaginas could take it for a couple of hours; and the boys’ the same.
Not that that made it acceptable. It never became acceptable. I hated it that first day and I hated it every time thereafter that I was forced to stand while they harnessed me into the bridle and then pushed the two dildos into my body and lashed me into galloping around the compound and later along the little tracks they made us cut through the trees.
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 exactl
y 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 bloo
d 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.
