CHAPTER ONE

 

Only in the most underground of underground, and therefore the most exclusive of contact magazines, would one get the slightest inkling of the fantastic organisation masterminded and controlled by Anita Devlin. This amazing young lady was, several years ago, the sole beneficiary to the multi-millions left by her uncle, the oil industrialist, Howard Devlin. Despite spending vast amounts on the good life, Anita's bizarre sexual tastes could not be fully satiated. Part of her inheritance comprised of a tiny and remote tropical island in the Indian Ocean, on which her uncle had built a magnificent villa, where he and his friends could escape from the pressures of big business. To cut, as the saying goes, a long story short, Anita had the villa, in fact the whole island, re-designed to form a fantastic playground, where the young millionairess can indulge, in the company of like-minded people, her wildest fantasies.

And, in Miss Devlin's face, these fantasies, now realities, invariably involve the subjugation and degradation of beautiful girls. Many young woman from all walks of life, and indeed, all part of the world, are held prisoner on the island by Anita and her undoubtedly depraved band of cohorts. The dominant female syndrome has always been her 'scene' - money and ultra affluence have, as I have said, allowed her to turn fantasy into fact.

How, one may ask, in this day and age, can people be held illegally, and against their will, often for long periods of time? A variety of circumstances supplies the answer. The island is well off the nearest shipping lanes, and only vessels and aircraft specially chartered by Anita Devlin ever call there. Anita has the money and the flair, to ensure that her colleagues on the paradise isle - all women incidentally - have no desire to release her secret, and thus jeopardise their chances of ever indulging themselves so utterly again. And the prisoners, for such, in effect, they are?

Some are procured by blackmail, always a satisfactory silencer. Many, however, are abducted in the most secure, and, for Anita, least risky way. Recalcitrant, delinquent, or even unfaithful young females, are delivered into the hands of Anita's organisation by wronged parties, e.g. lovers, spouses, or even, occasionally, parents. In the most exclusive circles, it has become known that Anita's methods never fail! After their release, it is made abundantly clear to the erstwhile captives that swift retribution would follow any moves on their part to inform the world of what they had seen and experienced. It's never lost to these unfortunates, that Anita Devlin has built up an international syndicate -not only is HER vast fortune involved, since many of her colleagues, also, are extremely wealthy in their own right. And naturally, huge sums are paid by those people who would have guests 'entertained' on the island. Such an organisation as Miss Devlin's could not fail to attract companies only too willing to supply all its needs, since money to them is no object. Most of Anita's retinue comprises of jet-setters like herself, who revel in ensuring that fellow females, often wealthy and indulged, suffer to the utmost during their island confinement ... I had heard tales of such aristocratic young ladies, being forced, under pain of the lash, to toil all day in the tropical sun, on some pointless and back-breaking task.

The regime on this strange island is harsh in the extreme for the young captives. Punishments, to be effective, are correspondingly harsh. Corporal punishment is widely employed, as well as increased forced manual labour, solitary confinement, and a wide variety of ingenious and bizarre torments. All this is fully explained ton people sending 'guests' to Anita. The fees are paid, and from then on, Anita's organisation takes over. Elaborate cover-up stories are often transmitted to anyone liable to become suspicious about a victim's disappearance. The system works most satisfactorily. Everyone is quite happy - Anita, who rules the island, and her friends and associates who enjoy their bizarre power and life of luxury; the people who pay to have victims held on the island, either from desperation, revenge, or simply because of their particular kink; Anita's many direct and indirect employees around the world; the few outsiders who have been allowed to visit the island after having paid phenomenal fees; and lastly, the very select few people, not members of Anita's permanent staff, who, due to some whim of the lady herself, have been invited as genuine guests to her bizarre playground. Into this last category, I myself fall.

Let me explain.

I am certainly neither a wealthy associate of Anita, nor a jet-setter. Far from it. I am twenty five years old, and a free-lance writer and illustrator, specialising in erotic forms of art. I manage to make a reasonable living from my work, and being, so to speak, on the inside of the strange world of sophisticated kinkiness. I had occasionally heard of Anita Devlin's venture, although I'd no idea where her island was situated. I also had a special interest in the lady, for, about seven years previously, we had attended art college together. It was then I had discovered for myself what a forceful and domination character she was. I fancied her like Hell, but I also knew that, although we kept company for a few weeks, she had no real feelings for me. Even in those early days, her lesbian tendencies were fairly obvious. And Miss Devlin's exotic tastes did not include a fairly conventional student like myself. We were casual acquaintances, no more.

It therefore came as quite a surprise to me to receive Anita's invitation to visit her island, perhaps, she stated, with a view to carrying out some art work of 'considerable interest to me'. No details were given at that early stage, of course - I was simply to be at the airport at a certain time and date, if her offer was accepted. All would be taken care of.

My curiosity not to mention excitement, knew no bounds. Being self-employed, I simply 'shut up shop' on the appointed day, and was met at the airport by an extremely attractive young woman who introduced herself as Julia, and told me she was to be my guide and escort. I enjoyed her company tremendously - she was the soul of charm, and we discussed a wide variety of subjects - none however, of my many questions about Anita Devlin's organisation, was answered directly. My excitement mounted as I tried to visualise what the future might hold.

We changed flights at Cairo, disembarking finally at Cape Town, South Africa. The small, twin-engined plane which we then boarded was obviously a private charter. But, most surprising of all. the two crew members of the aircraft were attractive young women, who greeted Julia and myself warmly. I was soon put at my ease, as it became obvious that they were highly skilled and proficient pilots. We flew over the sparkling blue ocean for almost two hours, before I heard radio contact being established with our landing point. I peered excitedly out of a window, and saw, far below, a small palm-fringed island. Minutes later, we taxied to a halt beside a compact, though obviously well equipped, control terminal. On stepping out of the plane, Julia instructed me to go with her, and I would meet Miss Devlin. My luggage was handled by a girl whose appearance was very different from that of my travelling companions. Attractive she undoubtedly was, but her coarse, knee-length dress contrasted starkly with their short, smart outfits.

Julia drove me a short distance in a beach buggy, to the front drive-way of large, white mansion, and ushered me inside. The interior of the house was as sumptuous as the exterior was impressive. Julia knocked lightly on an oak-panelled door, and I heard a voice from within bidding us enter.

Introductions were unnecessary, I instantly recognised Anita Devlin, as she walked over, and shook hand with me. She had matured somewhat, and was now an even more impressive figure than I remembered. At least as tall as my five foot ten inches, all her curves were in the right places, and she carried herself with an unmistakable air of self-assurance, bordering on arrogance. Her long, black hair was swept back and up off her high cheek-boned face, allowing me to clearly see the trace of coldness in those dark eyes - a coldness that I remembered so well.

"Thank you Julia, that will be all!" she said, and my companion of the long journey nodded and smiled, before closing the door as she left. Anita made no attempt to hide the fact that she was appraising me, as, with hands on full hips, encased in skin-tight, white trousers, she spoke to me with a tone of authority entirely in keeping with her appearance.

"Welcome to Isla D'Or, John. You must be wondering why I asked you to visit me."

"Yes ..." I hesitated. "It seems a lovely place ..."

"Please call me Anita - you are my guest, and I want you to enjoy your stay here. You must be exhausted after the journey, I'll explain everything after you've eaten and rested."

I certainly was tired, and felt somewhat grimy in the tropical heat. Anita rang a small bell, and almost immediately, a girl in a skimpy maid's uniform hurried in.

"Run a bath for this gentleman," Anita snapped. "Then see he is provided with a meal." The maid curtsied, as her mistress turned to me. "I'll see you later in the evening." I took my leave of my mysterious hostess and, despite my curiosity, I really was glad of the relaxing bath, and could find no fault in the meal of choice delicacies, with which I was served by another scantily-clad meal

Greatly refreshed, I changed my clothes, having been directed to a spacious and well-appointed room, by yet another of Anita's servants. I was intrigued by the ultra-exotic appearance of these young girls. Very low-cut, black satin blouses, through which plump, young breasts strained, seemed to be the standard wear, along with micro-skirts of the same figure-hugging material. The tops of their black stockings, and a strip of suspender were always visible, as were their thin, white panties, each time they bent down, invariably without bending their knees. Extremely high-heeled court shoes thrust their thighs forward at each step. None deliberately acted provocatively towards me - it was just that their abbreviated outfits made it impossible for them not to be sexy.

Certainly, despite being courteous and helpful, none of the maids had seemed over-eager to communicate with me, even lowering their eyes to avoid looking at me directly - it was as if they were a little ashamed of having their provocatively clad bodies so displayed to a man's gaze.

Feeling greatly restored after my meal and toiletries, I was again shown into what I took to be Anita's Devlin study, and, as previously, despite this all-powerful woman's apparent friendliness towards me. I could not feel but slightly overawed while in her presence; she seemed faintly amused at my discomfort, but after exchanging a few pleasantries with me over some quite heady wine, she unfolded to me the amazing story of her island. The early part of her narrative dealt with her background, and her acquisition and subsequent development of her remote and beautiful inheritance. I already knew most of her methods of procuring prisoners - all these and more were confirmed to me as she continued her explanation.

"You may have wondered at not seeing any of my 'guests' as you arrived - this was intentional; they are all being kept out of the way, till after I have prepared you, by word of mouth, for what to expect. Being frank with you, I really enjoyed what I am doing here - I suppose I must be a sadist, as are most of my friends and colleagues on Isla D'Or. I have the final say in everything here, and everyone accepts this." For a brief moment, her dark eyes flashed. "It would be too bad for them if they didn't."

Side-tracking a little, her next statement really surprised me. "You, John, will, of course, not know that I own the specialist magazine for which you have been providing illustrations, during the past year. I saw your original application letter and samples, remembered you, and decided you would be a safe and interested person to visit my island. So here you are!"

I knew immediately what she meant by 'safe'. The magazine she mentioned had, for some time, been providing me with a fair proportion of my income. This I would not care to forfeit, as would surely happen if I revealed to the outside world, anything which Anita did not want revealed. So she even had some hold over me, I mused.

"As you probably know," continued Anita, "I do not require men for sexual satisfaction, nor for any other reason. You were flown here by a pretty experienced pilot, and the doctors, as well as the various other professional and technical people are all female. This is the way I like it. The only other men here are a couple of slobs under-going a course of treatment, as directed by their mistresses."

The surprise in my expression must have been evident, for Anita smiled. "Yes, very rarely, I do cater for male slaves - only very rarely mark you, and the fees have to be high. I have as little to do with them as possible, but some of my colleagues do enjoy entertaining these wretches, I assure you!" I was barely able to suppress a shudder. "I know from your work that you are not really interested in the 'dominated male' either, so if you see them, it will only be in passing."

"No," went on Anita, "it's the recalcitrant young ladies I enjoy licking into shape. I've got thirty-plus here at the moment, at various stages of training. When they first arrive, they can be proper vixens, but we soon sort them out. Why, after a couple of months of my treatment, you wouldn't think they were the same persons. But you'll see what I mean shortly, for yourself."

Anita was obviously enjoying herself, and really warmed to her subject. I hung onto her every word, and, strangely enough, was more excited than appalled, by what I heard.

"On arrival at my little harem, new girls are told that they are here to be changed from spoilt and self-centered young delinquents, into young ladies who will be a credit to their long suffering mentors. They are given a copy of all the rules by which they will have to abide, and it is made clear to them, from the outset, that things will not be easy for them. Often, a girl will become hysterical at this stage, or perhaps curse myself or the overseers. Usually, they only do this once, for after such an outburst, they invariably experience extreme difficulties in sitting down, for some days."

Anita rose from her chair, and paced over to a large cabinet beside the window. My eyes devoured the swell of her hips, now encased in a tight, leather mini-skirt, and, since a table had been between us before, only then did I notice that her long, powerful legs were sheathed in thigh-length, black leather boots. She fumbled in the cupboard, withdrew two objects, and laid them on the table in front of me.

"You see, all my overseers carry one or other of these, depending on their fancy. It's amazing how the girls soon grow to respect them. What do you think?"

I ran my fingers over the smooth, hard leather of a two-foot long, three-tailed tawse, and could imagine the pain a stroke or two with it would cause. The three-foot riding crop, too, would be sufficient to punish the toughest hide, let alone the soft flesh of some young woman ..."

"Most impressive ..." I hesitated.

"These, as I've said, are carried at all times, and used as and when my colleagues deem necessary. And that's pretty often, especially with newcomers. However, for more serious misdemeanours, the girls can be birched, whipped or subjugated to a wide variety of more severe punishments. But as I've said, you'll see all this as the days go by."

Anita replaced the tawse, but looped the crop into her belt. "Oh yes," she remembered, "I said the girls were all hidden for your arrival. Let me explain. The first thing we do when we have a new intake of girls, is confiscate all their clothing. And a fair number of my prisoners are kept permanently naked. I wanted to brief you, before you experienced a sight like that!" She smiled again as I seemed to be lost for words. "Articles of clothing can be 'won' by the girls, if I think their behaviour merits it, by working hard and willingly, and by obeying implicitly, and to the letter, every command. Of course, such concessions can be instantly withdrawn at any time, should they slip backwards, or require a formal punishment of any kind. Of course, they are not allowed their own garments. We don't like to spoil our young ladies, who, after all, are only slaves while on Isla D'Or. They can graduate from rough skirts to complete outfits, not, I'll admit of the best material, but, so I've been told, extremely welcome nevertheless, after weeks or months of forced nakedness. It's amazing the psychological disadvantage one is placed under, if rendered nude, and forced to carry out activities which one would normally perform clothed!

Anita displayed no embarrassment in explaining such intimate details to me. I regret to say it, but I found myself longing to see some of the prisoners. As if divining my thoughts, my hostess rose, and bade me follow her.