Island Royale: Institutional White Slavery in the New Millennium (REPOST)

Note:

This is a repost of the story I recently submitted, edited as necessary because of the limitations of the XNXX website format which confuses graphics, inexplicably substitutes a question mark for quotation marks at times, and does not permit footnotes. It is hoped therefore that this reposting will provide more clarity.

I have also reposted the story as one entire novella because it is hoped the sprinkling of negative comments I have received results from the previous inability of the reader to have read the chapters in chronological order. It is a long piece, I will admit, but is understood best when read, in sequence, as a sort of in-depth investigative report one might find in “Rolling Stone,” “Vanity Fair” or even “Newsweek.” The name “IN/Sight” is an homage to the long-running PBS documentary series “Frontline.” It would appear that many readers did not recognize my attempt to provide the story a “legitimate” journalistic setting.

As I have earlier stated, this is my first posting to the website, and so of course legitimate constructive criticism would be appreciated. I’ve already started sketching out the outline for another story – not a sequel, though – but frankly I would prefer to receive some more reader feedback before deciding whether it would be worth investing much more time or effort into the new project.

Judging from other stories I have read on this website, especially those in the “institutional sex Slavery” genre such as “Ladies at Sea” and “Payne Academy” to name but two, my submission is admittedly rather tame. There are a few “hardcore” passages, hopefully descriptively written of course, but my novella is far from “extreme,” as this website defines the term. In writing Island Royale, I had wanted to do something more than simply produce an erotic tale, however. My larger goal was to write a serious, thought-provoking piece of literature that would seek to explore the balance between human instinctive behavioral predisposition and the influence of social customs and mores all people are taught to be appropriate expressions of “civilized” human behavior. As an aside, I had also sought to address some of the more obvious logistical difficulties involved in establishing and maintaining a secret organization premised upon the sexual exploitation of women in this modern age of international travel, the Internet, global positioning satellites and instant telecommunications – problems, frankly, that never seem to be adequately addressed in these website stories but yet must be satisfactorily resolved unless the reader is to be expected to wholly abandon all physical and political realities. In short, I had wanted to write a plausible erotic story with – dare I say it? – “socially redeeming values,” to borrow the famous US Supreme Court language.

Please enjoy Island Royale.

—-The Author


An IN/Sight Special Report:

Island Royale: Institutional White Slavery in the New Millennium. An explicit report on the world’s most luxurious and exclusive brothel and of the people who operate it.

© 2011 IN/SIGHT COMMUNICATIONS, L.L.C. All national and international rights reserved.

Foreword by the Editors
____________________________________________

Every few years a newspaper or magazine article will be published, or perhaps a television documentary will be aired, seeking to expose the sordid operations of the so-called “white slavery” business: The illegal trafficking of women sold into a life of exploitation and involuntary prostitution.

Almost always these reports have focused upon the cruelty of the slave trade and upon the appalling and often brutal conditions under which these unfortunate women must live and work while imprisoned within the squalid quarters of Cambodian, Indian or Turkish bordellos. There may be the occasional report of a police raid upon a relatively small prostitution ring in the United States, where a dozen or more helpless Young women, typically from Mexico and other Latin American countries, are found quietly plying “The World’s Oldest Profession” within a pervasive climate of fear – a fear of beatings, of hunger, or more often than not, simply a fear of arrest and deportation – but such accounts are rare indeed; the far more common image of modern white slavery, as documented by the media, is that of a savage and barbaric underworld in which women are bought and sold like cattle and are forced to provide sexual services while held prisoner within the many filthy, disease-riddled brothels that litter the decaying sections of overcrowded cities in Southeast Asia and the Middle East.

Exotic tales of beautiful young women being whisked away upon spirited Arabian stallions, to live as pampered concubines in lavishly-appointed Middle Eastern harems under the spell of a ruggedly handsome desert prince, are the stuff of Romance novels. Many victims of sexual enslavement, especially those from the desperately impoverished rural regions of Moldova, Ukraine and other former Soviet states, are lured into the sex trade by vague promises of large sums of money to be earned abroad performing housekeeping or other “domestic services.” Most, however, are simply abducted by force – from their homes, their schools, from local restaurants and shops, or sometimes merely as they walk unescorted through the streets of the City – and are subsequently drugged or beaten into submission. Particularly in the underdeveloped Asian countries of Cambodia, Thailand, and Indonesia, a significant number of preadolescent girls are sold to the sex traffickers – often by an uncle or grandfather, a neighbor, or perhaps a “trusted family friend” – and once purchased these unfortunate children are repeatedly required to perform sexual acts long before they have even attained puberty.

The women and young girls held in sexual bondage live at all times under the total domination of their captors. Generally they are poorly clothed and fed, receive little if any medical attention, and are frequently whipped and tortured in order to ensure their obedience and to reinforce their feelings of degradation and absolute hopelessness. The death rate among the victims of white slavery is staggering: Few women survive into their thirties the physical and sexual abuse to which they are subjected on a daily basis, and those who do manage to escape the horrors of the brothel remain psychologically and often physically scarred for life. Official estimates vary, but between 1.2 and 2 million women and young girls are believed to be currently held as captive sex slaves throughout the world; however, despite the concerted efforts of several international humanitarian organizations such as AFESIP (Agir pour les Femmes en Situation Précaire, or “Acting for Women in Distressing Circumstances”), the POPPY Project in Great Britian, and the OSCE (Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe), tragically only a comparatively small number of women over the years have been successfully rescued from their lives of cruel sexual servitude.

This is indeed the “face” of white slavery in the 21st Century, as depicted until now by the international media. As shocking as the images presented may be, however, and certainly as disturbing as the graphic accounts told to us by the surviving victims of sexual enslavement, IN/SIGHT has learned these reports do not reflect the only manner in which, for profit, women and young girls are systematically abused sexually on an institutional basis. Until recently, even the existence of a large, well-organized and extremely well-financed business based upon the sexual exploitation of women has remained a closely guarded secret known only to a very select group of the world’s most wealthy and powerful men. In the following exclusive report, IN/SIGHT will examine one such highly profitable enterprise, known simply as “Island Royale.”

Pursuing this story proved to be both frustratingly difficult and exceedingly time-consuming. Our Correspondent, whose identity has been withheld at his specific request, began his investigation well over seven years ago with the sketchy stories told to him by rural Russian and Ukrainian villagers of several young female children having been stolen from their homes and families, never to be seen again. Despite repeated official governmental denials of the villagers’ claims our Correspondent pressed on, following a winding and often dangerous trail that would eventually take him to India, Thailand and Viet Nam in Southeast Asia, as well as to Spain, Poland, Turkey, and other countries in Europe and in the Middle East. Encountering along the way seemingly endless false leads and periodic threats to his personal safety, he nonetheless persevered.

Our Correspondent’s big break came finally with a chance meeting in Cairo, Egypt, with a local sex trafficker who in turn introduced him to yet another marketer of women known only as Yusuf. Yusuf told him very little, but several days later an unidentified Westerner contacted our Correspondent at his hotel and directed him to return to New Orleans, in the United States, where he was advised a car would be waiting for him. Not knowing what to expect, but having been assured that “all questions [would] be answered” upon his arrival, our Correspondent did as he had been instructed, and indeed was met at the airport by an unassuming black sedan and its enigmatic male passenger. He soon found himself aboard a private jet aircraft, and while flying high above the Gulf of Mexico received an extraordinary invitation to document in detail what is undoubtedly the most well-organized and lucrative bordello in the world.

His report follows.


Chapter One
____________________________________________


You will not find the place marked on any published map, and no one you know can provide you directions to it. No commercial airlines schedule flights there, and even global satellite images of the area reveal nothing but seemingly endless blue waters.

There are no fancy internet websites maintained to allow you to book a vacation there, and no ordinary travel agent can make a reservation for you. On the shelves and kiosks of the World’s travel agencies there are no inviting brochures of the resort filled with rich prose and glossy color photographs displayed in competition with other pamphlets promoting popular holiday destinations. And you’ll never see a television commercial beckoning you to come for a visit.

To all but a relatively elite few, the place is but a myth – an ethereal phantom, if you will – heard of only through whispered rumor and existing solely within the dark recesses of the lascivious mind. Officially there simply is no such place; nevertheless the myth is quite real, for stretching along the eastern shore of a small, privately-owned South Sea atoll, Island Royale offers to an extremely select group of male clientele the very finest in heterosexual entertainment, all amid the plush surroundings of a first class holiday resort.

World leaders, heads of state, multi-national corporate kingpins, oil-rich Arabian sheiks, and – surprisingly, perhaps – even many of the highest-ranking members of the clergy periodically migrate to this isolated enclave to enjoy the hospitality of what is undeniably the finest brothel ever to exist on the planet. Hedonism II, Exotic Retreat, and even Thailand’s infamous Angels in Paradise sex resorts pale in comparison, for at Island Royale there is but one basic rule: Do not physically injure the staff. Within the wide parameters of that one basic rule, however, virtually “anything goes.”

How Island Royale has remained such a well-kept secret, insulated from international exposure and scrutiny, is largely due to the tremendous discretion employed by the resort’s many wealthy and powerful patrons. As Greg, the Managing Partner of the resort explained:

Only the most Alpha of Alpha Males even knows we exist.

An invitation to visit Island Royale is not extended lightly, and the acceptance of that invitation carries with it the clear understanding that all aspects of the experience must remain an absolute secret to those outside “The Circle.”

We are, to put it simply, very exclusive.

And our Guests respect and appreciate that exclusivity. Regardless of their position, title, political or religious beliefs, our Guests know they are able to come here to relax and truly enjoy the unique amenities Island Royale has to offer, but they also know that their ability to continue to do so in the future depends entirely upon our existence remaining quite confidential. Each of our Guests sincerely wishes for us to continue to flourish, and therefore each exercises great care in order to prevent the inappropriate disclosure of any information about the resort.

(It should be noted that, because of the exceptional candor I was to receive during my interviews, as a condition of my visit the names of all principals associated with Island Royale have been changed in order to preserve their anonymity. Although I was permitted to retain my audio cassette recorder for use during my interviews, Management refused to permit me to bring to the resort any cameras, camcorders, or other video recording devices, and I was further prohibited from attempting to interview any members of the Island Royale sex staff during my stay.)


* * * * * * * *

Getting to Island Royale is itself not especially difficult, provided of course one has first received that coveted invitation. All patrons are extremely wealthy, possess access to their own private aircraft, and are therefore able to fly freely to and from the small airport in western Costa Rica constructed exclusively to serve the needs of the resort. Guests arrive throughout the morning for their weeklong stay, with flights leaving for the island each Sunday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon.

Prior to boarding, each Guest is subjected to a thorough physical examination. There are no exceptions. The medical staff screens not only for syphilis, gonorrhea, AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases but for more “common” health concerns as well such as mononucleosis, viral influenza and rubella, in addition to confirming a Guest’s general overall physical health. Management of Island Royale is quite proud of the fact that there has never been a serious outbreak of disease during their thirty-seven years of operation in the sex business.

And their patrons completely understand the need for such a rigorous screening process. Although unusual, on more than one occasion over the years a Guest has been turned away at this isolated Central American outpost because of even the hint of a “common cold” infection and, according to Greg, when that has happened the Guest has each time completely accepted, without protest, Management’s decision to withhold from him boarding permission. Each Guest is acutely aware of just how very important it is to keep the resort “clean,” as infection or disease could easily and quickly be passed from a Guest to any number of the sex staff and subsequently to other Guests. Besides, a Guest who accepts his rejection gracefully knows he will receive another invitation to visit the resort once his medical issue has been successfully addressed.

The actual eight-hour flight to Island Royale, aboard an unmarked Boeing 757 jetliner, is largely uneventful. The aircraft is outfitted with first-class accommodations throughout the accessible portion of the passenger section and comfortably seats around one hundred twenty-six persons, including a small staff of male flight attendants. Each seat is equipped with a video screen, and passengers may choose from a variety of audio and video entertainment options. Most Guests, I observed, elected to view “first-run” movies – quality motion pictures, not the abysmally edited “feature films” shown on long-distance commercial flights – if they chose to watch anything at all. Generally, though, the passengers simply read or slept during most of the trip. Although some Guests talked quietly among themselves, on the whole I noted very little interaction between the passengers during the long flight.

The rear third of the aircraft fuselage is sealed off and is not accessible to the passengers. I was to learn later that the jetliner, as well as her sister air ship, serves both to shuttle patrons to and from the island and to provide the resort thrice-weekly shipments of food, beverages and other necessary supplies – including young human females – and consequently both aircraft have been modified to haul “freight” in the pressurized rear portion of the cabin as well as in the large cargo bays below.

Midway during the flight one of the attendants announced that a short instructional audiotape would be played and that it was strongly recommended that first time visitors to the resort listen carefully. I of course donned my earphones, but it appeared most of the passengers had previously visited the island and therefore largely ignored the suggestion of the flight attendant. I and the scattering of my fellow “first time visitors,” however, listened intently to the recorded message.

Narration is in English, and the male voice possesses a vaguely British accent. The syrupy background music seemed a bit much to me, but on the whole the instructional tape is brief and quite straightforward:

Welcome to Island Royale, where all of your fantasies become real!

You have embarked upon the trip of a lifetime. Every sexual dream you have ever had will be fulfilled over and over again by the willing staff of our wonderful little resort. Island Royale is indeed the paradise you have longed for.

Our girls are for the taking. Any time, any place, and as often as you would like. They exist only to serve you, and they will serve you in every manner imaginable. You want straight sex? All you need do is summon a girl. Fellatio? Each of our girls is an expert at providing the very best oral sex you have ever had in your life! Multiple partners? Whenever you wish. B&D? Simply book your visit to our Dungeon and select your “victim” or “victims.” Are children of interest to you? We have sweet little girls as young as five years of age ready and always eager to please you.

At Island Royale, there are but three simple rules that must be strictly observed at all times. They are all “common sense” rules, of course, but it must be emphasized that we cannot tolerate any violation of these rules.


• Rule No. 1: At no time can we permit you to subject any of our girls to actual physical injury or death. We do maintain a mock torture chamber for your enjoyment and if you wish to engage in this activity we will do our best to accommodate you. But any session of sadomasochism will, by necessity, require supervision by a member of our administrative staff.


• Rule No. 2: At no time may there be arguments about the girls. If a female is available for a session, she will accompany you immediately. If she has already made a commitment to another Guest, she will offer to serve you at a later time. Please do not argue with her or attempt to persuade her to break her prior engagement.


• Rule No. 3: You will notice upon your arrival that each of our very young girls displays a small red ceramic ornament attached to a chain suspended from her vagina. This ornament is to signify that she is too young to safely engage in vaginal or anal intercourse. All of our females, regardless of their age, are of course available at all times to perform fellatio and to be fondled, but you are not permitted to insert your finger, tongue, penis, or any foreign object into the vagina or anus of a girl displaying a red ornament.


Please remember these three simple rules and you will thoroughly enjoy the delightful accommodations Island Royale has to offer!



* * * * * * * *


Our flight had departed from the small Latin American coastal airport promptly at 3:00 p.m. local time Sunday afternoon, and therefore with the time zone changes we arrived at the clandestine resort shortly after six o’clock in the evening.

From the air, the principal Island Royale hotel building does not appear to be all that impressive, and in size would most certainly be dwarfed by the massive resort facilities seen along the beaches of Monaco or even Cancun or Maui. Structurally, the hotel is constructed in the shape of a softly curved crescent, with each end of the building bending gently to the east. The concave side constitutes the front of the building and in the wide area leading from the main entrance all the way to the beach is the “Compound,” where I would learn much of the outdoor sexual activities take place. Dominating the Compound is a massive irregularly-shaped swimming pool from which numerous canals, somewhat like tentacles, lead off to smaller and more secluded alcoves. Assorted walkways bridge these canals, enabling one to reach any section of the Compound with relative ease.

South of the hotel structure one can see from the air that several hundred acres have been cleared for an impressive eighteen-hole golf course, and a large one-story somewhat “T”-shaped building serves as a buffer between the corner of the golf course and a large cluster of tennis courts enclosed within a grid of tall chain link fence. Another much smaller swimming pool, shaped in the form of a semi-circle, lies immediately to the west of this building.

Our jetliner circled twice before gracefully descending to land upon the longer of the two concrete airstrips constructed on the far western side of the island. Frankly, our reception at the airport was as unremarkable as the flight itself, as Island Royale Management provides no formal greeting or welcoming ceremony to Guests upon their arrival. After the aircraft had slowly taxied to a stop before a small cinder block “terminal building,” we descended the boarding staircase to where two modern air-conditioned buses sat idling, waiting to take us to the resort, and as I stood to enter one of these vehicles I glanced to my right to see a couple of large panel trucks carefully backing toward the cargo hold of our recently landed aircraft.

I spent the short ride through the lush tropical island forest leading to the Island Royale resort complex watching as a blur of vegetation streaked silently past me outside the sealed windows of the bus, but as we approached the hotel we descended into a long tunnel, blocking our view of the Compound, and I could feel the bus sway slightly to starboard before slowing to a crawl and stopping at a well lit subterranean platform located below the hotel lobby. With little discussion we disembarked and were rather perfunctorily escorted in small groups into a bank of elevators. Upon our ascendance to the lobby we were met by a number of women, each dressed in lightweight green colored jumpsuits, standing patiently waiting to receive and guide us to our assigned rooms.

The main resort building consists of but ten floors I was to learn. Guest quarters are located on the upper six floors, with administrative offices, the seldom-used infirmary, and the “Graduate School” on the fourth level, while the second and third floors, not generally open to Guests, house all maintenance and managerial employees. The sex slaves themselves have no individual quarters and must sleep in the Compound or hotel lobby in the unlikely event they are unable to secure a liaison with a Guest for the night.

The concierge is on the main level, on the western side of the lobby in the middle of the crescent-shaped structure. Various suites, decked out in assorted “themes,” occupy the southern wing of the ground floor and are available by reservation to Guests upon request. These “themed” suites are furnished as appropriate: One is decorated as the inner chambers of a harem, while another possesses a pirate motif complete with a plank overlooking a large pool of water. Still another suite is designed as a saloon in an old American West town and is outfitted with several poker tables, a tinny player piano in the corner, and a well-oiled and fully stocked wooden bar stretching out along the northern wall staffed by bare-breasted women in full-length skirts. The largest of these suites is the Dungeon, located at the far southern end of the building, and is equipped with a wide variety of medieval and more modern “torture” equipment. As mentioned in the audio briefing, Guests are invited to bring girls to the Dungeon and subject them to simulated torture sessions employing a rack, a “wooden pony,” whips, chains, nipple clamps, and assorted other tools and implements commonly associated with sadomasochism. In all, the resort maintains six “environmentally themed” suites available for the use of the Guests and their selected sex partners.

To the north of the concierge, a large recreational center offers to resort Guests a wide assortment of more “traditional” amusements including two fully stocked bars, parlor games such as billiards, air hockey and pin ball, and video games including blackjack, an auto racing simulation, and even “Pac-Man.” A small dance floor is available but is seldom used. A much larger area is set aside for “Twister,” a game played principally by young naked girls, usually preadolescents and early teens, who assume extremely revealing positions while trying to maintain contact by hand and foot with a variety of brightly colored dots painted on the thickly carpeted floor. Needless to say, watching the girls play “Twister” is quite popular among the Guests, and these games are seemingly in progress throughout the day and evening hours.

Farther down the northern wing, behind a door, a large exercise room is available to resort Guests, although the sex slaves are welcome to use the extensive selection of workout equipment as well. Adjoining the exercise room are other areas where the slaves shower and groom themselves, and it is here where they receive their assigned clothing, if any. These latter areas are open on the interior side, and Guests can conveniently watch from the Compound as the females prepare themselves for their next session.

On the main level, to each side of the long front desk, large swinging doors lead down a hall to the formal dining room, and beyond that the kitchen – or “galley” as the administrative staff calls it – as well as the resort’s general storage facilities. To the rear of the resort complex, enclosed within a tall chain link fence, is an immense, lushly green and obviously well maintained field dotted with a scattering of the sort of common children’s playground equipment one would see in any typical school yard, and Guests can observe from the dining room the very young girls of the Nursery as they frolic and play outdoors in the nude beneath the warm tropical sun. Across that field and far to the west sits the Nursery itself, a sprawling one-story cinder block building quite reminiscent of a suburban American grammar school, where those very young girls – ages four to seven years – are housed and trained to eventually join their sisters as sex slaves in the Island Royale Compound.
The “T”-shaped building seen from the air to the south of the hotel accommodates several small steam rooms and a large sauna, and Guests may choose from a full menu of available spa treatments. A bar and limited-fare restaurant is also provided, and there is even a small “Pro Shop” located in the structure catering to the needs of both golf and tennis enthusiasts. Ironically, I was to learn during my stay at the resort that “The Clubhouse,” as the bar/lounge portion of the building is called, is an extremely popular hangout among the Guests – ironic, that is, because in the virtual sea of beautiful naked sex slaves available throughout the Island Royale complex, other than for the girls trained as masseuse and the bare-breasted bar and restaurant staff, females are rarely seen in the Clubhouse.*

None of this opulence is accessible inexpensively, of course. A week’s stay at Island Royale, excluding transportation costs to reach the isolated Costa Rican airport, is about $35,000 US, or approximately €25,700 Euros. But the resort’s patrons are all extremely wealthy men, and to these men $35,000 is a trivial sum to spend for even a brief stay in Paradise.

This is an extremely profitable business, to be sure, run by very smart and very calculating men – and one woman, I would learn – and in many respects represents a social system unseen since perhaps the times of the Roman Empire.

__________________

* See Appendix A for an artist’s conception of the Island Royale grounds and facilities – Ed.

* * * * * * *


From the lobby of Island Royale I was escorted to my suite by an attractive brunette in her early twenties clad in a simple light green jumpsuit that did little to disguise her large breasts and alluring figure. Her wardrobe, which was hardly flattering, and the rather automatic manner in which she conducted her duties as bellhop surprised me somewhat, as I guess I had expected my female attendant to have been provocatively attired and to have submissively offered herself to me immediately upon my arrival. I soon realized, however, that she had many Guests to guide to their rooms and therefore had no time to spare. She gave me a brief tour of my suite, presented to me my room key, bowed and exited, leaving me to explore my quarters on my own.

Actually, a Guest’s “room key” is not a key at all but rather a plastic card, similar to those provided guests at most modern hotels and resorts, except a bit smaller and thicker perhaps and with more gently rounded corners. The Guest’s suite number is embossed in large gold lettering along the face of the card, and a hole had been punched in the upper left corner to permit a thin band of strong nylon cord to pass through. A spring-loaded “alligator” clip is attached to this band, permitting a Guest to fasten his room key to his clothing as he makes his way around the resort complex. Access to one’s suite is gained simply by holding this plastic card in the immediate vicinity of a detection box located on the wall just to the side of the door.

Guest quarters consist of two large connecting rooms, each providing a spectacular view of both the Compound and the ocean beyond through the full-length windows that constitute the eastern wall. A sliding glass door, rarely closed, leads to a reasonably sized private balcony, or “lanai,” as it is called, large enough to accommodate a drinks table and several comfortable deck chairs. The rooms are tastefully furnished and are exceptionally well apportioned; the bath/Jacuzzi, for example, located at the far end of the suite is almost as large as an average cruise ship stateroom, and the generous number of shower heads installed along the three tiled walls can more than adequately allow a Guest to entertain multiple sex partners.

The latest in audio and video entertainment technology is available to Guests from two large “high definition” flat-screen televisions hung on the wall of each room. The video selections – in eight choices of language – include news, sports, and first-run motion pictures as well as the expected sexually oriented fare, and every imaginable style of music is available at the touch of a button. In addition, each suite is equipped with a computer terminal, with full Internet access, and a clever program allows a Guest to instantly summon any of the Island Royale sex slaves to his quarters.

The Guests’ rooms are located only on the ocean-view side of the crescent. A wide central corridor, appropriately decorated with plush pile carpeting and tasteful lighting, is available for the use of the Guests while a second hidden passageway, not as wide and with much thinner “institutional” carpeting, parallels the central hallway and is used exclusively by support personnel. The reason for the duplicate corridors, I was to learn, is to enable the maintenance staff to service the complex without inconveniencing the Guests and to provide Management, as well as the sex staff, the ability to reach any part of the hotel without encountering delays.

Exploring my suite I soon gravitated to the computer terminal. Declining other options I focused on the listing of the Island Royale sex staff. The main page permits one to scroll through small thumbnail portraits of each of the resort’s impressively large “inventory” of currently available females, and by clicking on one of the portraits, one may view a full nude image of the girl or woman complete with her name, “vital statistics” such as height, weight, age and country of origin, as well as the standard female measurements of bust size, waist and hips.

A button near the bottom of the screen invites one to either request to have the selected slave summoned or to return to the main page to view the thumbnail pictures of all of the girls. I browsed among the thumbnails awhile and selected Danica, an attractive nineteen-year-old brunette from Poland with large full breasts and a thin closely-cropped strip of dark brown pubic hair.

The screen cleared and a message popped up:


Danica is currently in session with another Guest.
What would you like to do?

 Have Danica report to you upon the conclusion of her current session?

 Return to the main screen to make another selection?


I was aware that the “Poolside Get-Together Party” for new arrivals to the resort was due to begin in just over an hour, so I chose not to “reserve” the charming little brunette and instead decided to shower for the upcoming party.

Since my arrival I had been dressed in the same comfortable khaki slacks, short-sleeved dress shirt and sports coat I had been wearing when I had been unexpectedly invited to Island Royale. My luggage, other than personal toiletries and the contents of my carry-on briefcase, had been “stored securely” by Management for the duration of my visit with assurances that none of my travel apparel would be necessary during my stay at the resort. After I had showered I inventoried my wardrobe closet, discovering only a few loose-fitting terry cloth robes and tunics of varying thickness and length, each either white or light blue in color, suspended from heavy wooden hangers. On the closet floor an assortment of comfortable sandals, all in my size, had been carefully set out. I saw no undergarments of any sort.

I selected a long white robe and, perhaps feeling a bit self-conscious, left my quarters and joined a number of similarly attired men walking down the hall, into an elevator, and out into the large reception area leading to the Compound. We exchanged small talk, in English and with an obvious enthusiasm for our upcoming “holiday,” but although the men spoke in a variety of accents, I noted that none asked the others for their names or countries of origin.

The sun had not quite set as I threaded my way between the drinks tables and lounging chairs scattered randomly all around the pool. To my left, I could see a young naked woman straddling a fat and balding European sitting in a chair, her tits bouncing as she repeatedly impaled herself on his dick. To my right, at a slight distance, the lower torso of a woman, her bare ass prominently on display, emerged from beneath the tunic of a middle-aged Asian man stretched out in a chaise longue. Beyond her, a large man sat on the edge of the pool as two naked teenage girls in the water took turns giving him head.

I continued through this maze and selected a seat among a group of other men over near the high diving platform of the large swimming pool. Soon a dark-haired man wearing a deep blue business suit approached from the complex, clapping his hands and smiling as he walked. He stopped near our gathering, still loudly clapping his hands while he surveyed the area. I would learn later that the man was Greg, the managing partner of Island Royale, but at this point I was fascinated only with the casual manner in which he seemed to weave his way through the congregation of nude and scantily dressed women as they engaged in assorted sexual acts.

Greg stopped clapping and a large cluster of young naked women began to huddle near the ladder leading to the diving platform. “Gentlemen,” he announced with a broad smile. “Welcome to Island Royale. And welcome to our Island Royale Poolside Party.”

A round of applause from the gathering of men abruptly ceased with a wave of Greg’s hand. “How many Guests do we have here for the party?” He counted, turned to an aide and said quietly, “I count forty-three. How about you?” His assistant nodded and ran to the cluster of naked girls, counted them, and sent three away.

“All right, Gentlemen. To assist you in becoming more… intimately acquainted with our staff, please drop your room keys into our bucket.” A little naked girl, about seven years old, passed among the Guests to collect our “keys” as we tossed them into a yellow plastic bucket she held out before her. She was of Indian or perhaps Pakistani ancestry, I thought, as she possessed the rich tan, jet-black hair and distinctively large, deep set brown eyes of the race. When she smiled, she displayed a set of brilliantly white teeth, perfect but for the apparently recent loss of an upper molar.


As the child drifted past me, my eyes were drawn to the small bright red ornament, molded to resemble a cherry, swinging delightfully from the end of a thin gold chain that emerged from between the lips of her tiny hairless vagina. Her ornament would bounce repeatedly against her smooth inner thighs as she threaded her way through the crowd of seated adult males, and I found myself rubbing the front of my terry cloth robe beneath which I had developed a very serious erection. I glanced around in embarrassment only to see I was not alone in having become aroused at the sight of the lovely naked prepubescent female.

The little girl continued on until she had collected into her bucket the room card of each Guest participating in the game, and then she carefully ascended the ladder and sat, straddling the edge of the diving platform high above the pool, with the bucket between her legs. “Gentlemen,” announced Greg, “This is Island Royale’s version of ‘Hunt and Seek.’ Each of our girls will carry a room key. She will belong to whomever’s room key she is carrying.”

Another round of applause followed as the little girl on the platform stood and began throwing our room keys randomly into the pool. When she had finished she turned, descended the ladder with her empty plastic bucket, and disappeared. Greg clapped twice and the group of young nude women gathered near the base of the diving platform quickly entered the pool and began searching for the plastic cards now lying on the bottom.

Several Guests cheered as, one by one, the young women emerged from the pool, each displaying the edge of a room key lodged between the lips of her vagina.

The first girl out of the water approached a Guest and stood before him, her legs slightly parted. I watched as he spread her labia, removed the key, shook his head and offered it back to her, but she declined to take it and, spreading her legs even more, motioned to the Guest to slide the plastic card back into her slit. With a smile he slowly did so, and the naked woman then moved on to present herself before another Guest.

By now many young women, their wet bodies glistening in the poolside light, had emerged from the water and stood presenting themselves to the seated Guests. A girl in her early twenties, with ample tits and a freshly shaved Mons pubis, appeared before me. Spreading her nether lips, I carefully removed the room key she carried in her vagina. “904” was printed on the card. I shook my head and as she spread her legs a bit I slipped the plastic card back into her pussy. She turned and slowly moved away.

Another naked female soon appeared before me, water still dripping from her nipples, inviting me to inspect her vulva. Again I played with her soft wet pussy lips while removing the room key, and again I reinserted the card. Others followed, and my hard-on
 

throbbed as I fondled the vagina of each young woman as she offered herself to me, all under the pretense of locating my “date” for the evening.

A raven-haired beauty in her late teens, with pert nipples and a flawlessly shaved pussy, approached and stood before me. I playfully spread her labia and retrieved the room key she carried. “516.” My room number. I looked up to her, but she was gazing out across the Compound, her hands clasped together behind her back, seemingly indifferent to my exploration of her genitalia. I held up the plastic card and nodded; she smiled and immediately dropped to her knees, spreading my robe to expose my swollen penis. I played with her smallish breasts and ripe little nipples as she began enthusiastically sucking my cock.



Chapter Two
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A glorious sun-drenched early morning greeted me as I awoke in my bed alongside the lovely brunette “door prize” I had won at the party the previous evening. It had been arranged for me to interview Greg at nine o’clock, so after fucking the young woman just once more I dismissed her from my suite, showered and shaved, and then contemplated what to wear for my appointment with the resort’s Managing Partner. I declined the limited selection of robes and togas available to me from the small wardrobe closet and elected instead to meet him clad in the same slacks, dress shirt and sports coat I had worn during my trip to Island Royale. Leaning against the front desk in the lobby, I felt a bit out of place as other Guests milled about in loose-fitting tunics, sometimes in the company of nude or semi-naked women and young girls, but I had resolved that I would not conduct my first serious interview dressed in a “bathrobe” and was therefore relieved to see that Greg greeted me wearing a conservative, well-tailored brown business suit.

Standing at just less than six feet tall, Greg does not present himself as a particularly imposing figure, and his charming graciousness soon places one completely at ease in his presence. His impressive tan, full head of dark brown hair – with just a hint of gray around the temples – and his seemingly boundless energy belies the fact that the American is actually almost 65 years old. We exchanged pleasantries and he asked if I had slept well. With a smile I started to recount my delightful encounter with the nubile young woman with whom I had shared my bed during the night, but when a buxom blonde wearing shorts and a halter top approached the concierge, he politely cut me off and suggested we grab some coffee from the breakfast bar before starting our interview. With our cups in hand Greg guided me through the swinging doors and over to one of the service elevators, and as we ascended he apologized for the earlier interruption but quietly explained that Management felt it best that the sex staff not overhear any conversation which might suggest that guests receive “attention” at the resort not commonly available to them elsewhere. “If the slaves were to learn that men don’t always have females on hand to entertain them,” he said, “it would just confuse the hell out of ‘em.”

Greg is one of the “Founding Fathers” of Island Royale. He and John – or “John-Boy” as Greg and the others call him – had met as freshman classmates at Ithaca College in upstate New York during the early 1960s and had remained close friends while attending to their post-graduate studies at Columbia University. For several years they had together been quietly running as a side business a small “escort service” in Greenwich Village while pursuing their primary careers – Greg, as a promising young Wall Street attorney, and John-Boy, as the owner of a mid-Manhattan travel agency popular among the Very Rich – when the two young men met and had enlisted the aid of Dr. George, an equally youthful physician then in residence at a local New York hospital, to delicately address a “health concern” from which one of their prostitutes had been suffering. The two talented entrepreneurs quickly developed a warm and lasting friendship with the good doctor.

Their vision of a luxurious “all-inclusive” sex resort, catering to a select clientele of extremely wealthy men, took shape almost literally over the course of just one full weekend of serious drinking at Greg’s upscale East Side apartment. Greg, with his background in law, investments and management, would direct the general operation of the bordello, while Dr. George would see to the medical requirements of the staff and John-Boy, with his numerous connections to the “Rich and Famous,” would discreetly promote the business while also recruiting attractive young women from around the world to serve the needs of their customers.

Fearing local law enforcement “entanglements,” as Greg put it, the Three Partners scouted several offshore locations for their fledgling business venture before settling upon the purchase of an impressive Spanish-styled mansion, constructed in the early 1930s and set within the securely protected compound of a large former coffee plantation near Bogotá, Colombia, which appeared to offer what they believed to be necessary to the success of their enterprise: A secluded setting, favorable climate, and regional governmental officials who would be “sympathetic” to their cause. Following an extensive renovation of the mansion and grounds, La Casa – as the Partners had named their new brothel – opened for business with a sex staff of thirteen women, all Latinas in their late teens or early twenties hired locally from the slums of neighboring Bogotá or from the surrounding Colombian countryside.

Encouraged by the favorable responses the Three Partners had received from their initial trickle of visitors – predominantly rich American, Mexican, and Argentinean businessmen – more women were soon brought in to live and work at the bordello. With the arrival of seven young Thai women John-Boy had recruited and later, a group of European females he had enlisted for service while in Amsterdam, La Casa could now boast housing a truly “international” stable of young, attractive prostitutes who, while on duty, would skillfully play the role of “sex slave” for the amusement and enjoyment of their guests. As word further spread of the unique resort their business grew, and within a few short years La Casa had emerged as a popular Latin American “getaway” for extremely wealthy men seeking repeated casual sexual encounters with a large and varied assortment of submissive young women. Confident now that their enterprise would be a success, John-Boy sold his travel agency, Greg and Dr. George each resigned their respective positions in New York, and the Three Partners took up permanent residence in Colombia as full-time managerial directors of La Casa.

And indeed the business did flourish, at least for several more years, until senior members of the Colombian drug cartel – who were by then rapidly amassing political and military power as well as an even larger fortune than were the Three Partners – began demanding an ever-increasing percentage of the bordello’s profits in exchange for their “protection.” Faced with this growing financial burden and their uncertainty as to how long the cartel would remain appeased, the Three Partners decided to abruptly close La Casa, abandoning their prostitutes to the Colombian frontier, and move to a gated hotel facility they had acquired along the western coast of Africa, where they would recruit a fresh group of women from Europe and Asia to service their guests. The Partners would run their business in Africa for sixteen more years before again relocating to the present site of operations in the South Pacific.

The overall management of Island Royale served as an appropriate starting point for my interview with Greg, conducted in his large but surprisingly modestly appointed administrative office overlooking the Compound and deep blue South Sea waters beyond.



* * * * * * * *


Question: Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Frankly, I was surprised to have been invited to Island Royale and that you would accept my request for an interview. So, I guess I should start with asking you why you did so.

Answer: Well, you’re quite welcome. We’re all pretty proud of what we have been able to accomplish here and, now that we are rather well established, we feel comfortable in finally talking about the resort.

Or maybe it’s just that we want to do a bit of gloating. Besides, this whole feature of yours will probably never even see the light of day.

Q: IN/SIGHT is a rather highly respected news organization. Do you really believe this report will be dismissed simply as a work of “adult Fiction?”

A: Probably. But it does provide us with some added insurance. We know you’ve been snooping around now for quite some time, and you were getting a bit too “close to home” with your investigation, if you know what I mean. This way, by inviting you here and letting you see in detail how we operate the resort, if word of Island Royale were ever actually to leak out we can just point to your little article here to discredit the claims as nothing more than a far-fetched pornographic fantasy.

Q: Nonetheless, you are taking a risk in talking with me.

A: A minimal one, maybe.

Q: I was impressed with the resort when I arrived, although I was a bit surprised to see such a large number of very young girls serving in the Compound. Some appeared to be no more than five or six years old. Tell me: Just how young are the girls here?

A: Well, actually, the girls you saw weren’t quite that young. More like seven or eight years old. But to answer your question, the totally serviceable females in the Compound range in age from about twelve to around twenty-eight years old, with the seven to eleven-year-olds available only for light petting, fondling, and other non-invasive sex such as fellatio and hand jobs.

We keep all of the much younger females segregated in the Nursery behind us.

Q: And how many girls do you keep in service?

A: It varies slightly from week to week, but on average we have about 300 women and young girls available for the use of our Guests at all times, plus probably 175 or so more who have been temporarily rotated out of sex assignment and into general resort maintenance – but who can be made available as needed.

Hey, somebody has got to cook the meals, clean the pool and change the sheets!

You tend to think there’s a bigger sex staff because you see females milling around the Compound all the time, awaiting their next session. Our girls are trained to return to that central area between sessions, but of course they generally don’t remain there long.

Now mind you, not all of these girls are available for straight sex. Many of them are simply too young to fuck, but we try to keep enough sexually mature females available to service well over half of our guests at any given time during the day and evening hours, and enough additional slaves “on call” from the maintenance pool to ensure each Guest can keep with him overnight at least one woman old enough to fuck.

Q: That would mean that the resort can accommodate about three hundred guests then, correct?

A: Actually we can accommodate three hundred forty-eight Guests, and rarely are we not fully booked.

Q: With a sex staff that large, I am wondering how big your general support staff is.

A: On the island itself, we basically figure a 2:1 ratio, including the service women. We require all of the staff you would expect to find at any exclusive resort, plus a somewhat larger technical maintenance staff – because we are so secluded.

Off the island we employ many more people. We obviously need a small but knowledgeable medical staff to screen our Guests, and then of course we have additional personnel associated with transportation, food and beverage purchases, sex slave acquisitions and the like. Not to mention all of our independent contractors in Turkey, Pakistan, Russia and elsewhere. But on the island itself, I guess we have around 700 on staff at any given time, including the sex staff. That’s not counting the girls in the Nursery, though.

A few – but only a few – of the women you see around here have been assigned permanently to the general maintenance staff. When a female has gotten too old to be of use to us as a sex slave, we usually just sell her, but occasionally we’ll keep a bitch as a full-time maintenance worker. We don’t have nearly enough “retired cunts” to do all the work, though, and that’s why we rotate the sex staff into and out of general maintenance service.

It actually works out pretty well. The sex staff knows they must treat the maintenance workers properly, and vice versa, because the next week their roles might be reversed.

Q: I’ve seen a number of males working here though as well.

A. We do keep a large technical and administrative staff – of men – to see to the physical requirements of the resort and to supervise the females. Keep in mind that we’re not just running a resort here. We maintain our own electrical, water and sanitation systems, and if something breaks, we can’t just simply call up a repairman to come out and fix it!

The men are of course employed by the resort and do what is necessary to keep the complex operating efficiently. Even the bitches permanently assigned to maintenance lack the skills to handle anything more complicated than general housekeeping and kitchen “KP” duty.

Q: I would think you would have difficulty getting any work at all out of your male technical staff, what with all the naked women running around.

A: Well, that really hasn’t posed much of a problem for us, actually. The guys are free to take the girls temporarily assigned to maintenance service back with them when they’re off duty, and some do quite often, but on the whole our male employees approach their work in an extremely responsible manner.

(Chuckling) And of course, I suppose, there is the “familiarity breeds contempt” factor. If you work all day in a bakery, after all, you’re probably not a huge fan of pastries on a regular basis.

Q: I suppose. But these men aren’t slaves. I know the women can’t leave voluntarily, but what happens if one of your male employees decides to quit?

A: Ah, well, that does pose a problem for us.

Generally a male employee will be with us only about 7-8 years before he will want to leave. Ironically, though, oftentimes one of our employees, having left, will contact us wanting to come back again. But even if he does, he’ll usually become bored again rather quickly and won’t stay long.

All of our employees are sworn to secrecy of course, but I must confess we are constantly worried that some clown will someday tell “what he knows” about our operations.

We take certain understandable precautions. All of our employees are quite well paid but their wages are sequestered in various bank accounts in Zurich. A former employee must accept only the “draw” we permit him to periodically make from his account, and if we receive even a hint that the former employee may have disclosed information about the resort, we can permanently shut down his account. Fortunately, we’ve only had to do that a few times over the years.

But still, I suppose, the saying is true: “A secret between two men can only be kept if one of the men is dead.” We remain constantly on guard to protect against word of Island Royale leaking out to the general public.

Q: So how does inviting me here serve as an “insurance policy” for you?

A. We figure that if you report accurately, then in the event one of our former employees does “spill his guts,” by simply suggesting that he had read your piece and tried to get some publicity from his fantasy, he can be effectively discredited.

Q: I see. Getting back to your female staff, when one of your slaves gets too old to even do general maintenance work, what then?

A: Well, we haven’t actually reached that point yet. The oldest members of our first Nursery school class – if any of them are even still around – would only now be in their mid thirties. As time goes on, though, I suppose more and more of our sex staff might eventually “retire” into general maintenance service. That’s why we figure that in the years ahead we won’t have to rely so much on our sex staff to help maintain the resort.

But you’re right. At some point we will need to deal with our aging female maintenance worker population, and frankly we haven’t figured out yet what to do with them once they eventually get that old. Management certainly doesn’t plan on running a nursing home for old whores here!

(Laughing) We’ll probably just take ‘em out and dump ‘em all in the ocean. That’s what we did some years ago when George found out one of the girls had developed breast cancer or something. Obviously we didn’t want to spend any time or money to treat her, and we couldn’t put her on the auction block like that. So we just disposed of her. Tied her hands behind her back, sliced open her pussy and pushed her off the deck. Oh, she kicked and screamed for awhile but with all that blood in the water it didn’t take long for the sharks to find her. And it saved us the hassle of having to get rid of the body.

Q: Speaking of management, how many partners do you have?

A: Not that many. I’m the general manager of the resort, of course, but I have four equal partners. John-Boy and Alexis, neither of whom are on the island right now, are in charge of acquiring new slaves and disposing of our unwanted culls. George, who you will meet later, sees to the medical side while Cynthia, who you will also meet later, supervises the Nursery.

Q: You have a female partner?

A: Oh, yes. Cynthia has been an equal partner with us almost since the beginning.

Q: And she has no qualms about training young girls to become sex slaves?

A: Not at all. This is a very profitable business and Cynthia shares equally in the profits.

Q: And may I ask just how profitable Island Royale is?

A: (Smiling) Well, you may ask….

Q: OK. Point taken. Getting back to the overall running of the business: How much does it cost you for a girl?

A: Uh, you mean our overall investment? That would be difficult to calculate. Or did you simply mean the cost of the initial acquisition?

Q: Well, let’s start with the initial cost of acquisition.

A: Well, nowadays we usually don’t have to pay anything at all to acquire a girl. We simply trade in our unwanted bitches for much younger females. But it wasn’t always that way.

You must keep in mind, we’ve been around now for a long time and we are pretty well known within the relevant circles. Our associates in Calcutta, Istanbul, Singapore or wherever are constantly on the lookout for appropriate girls, age four or five years old, to buy or kidnap for us. Typically we can get four or five cute little European females – or sometimes as many as eight or nine baby Asian girls – for even one of our older or less attractive culls.

Q: Really. I would have thought that the cost of purchasing a young girl as a sex slave would have been much higher.

A: Well, buying a teenager outright – especially a Caucasian bitch – is considerably much more expensive. I believe the going rate right now for an average-looking European girl of say, seventeen, is about $60,000 US if she’s already had her cherry taken, and you can expect to pay even more if her pussy’s never been used. But little girls are much cheaper and easier to get and, besides, we don’t want our new recruits any older than 4-5 years.

Q: Why not?

A: Because of the hassle.

Look, you bring in a girl of even, say, six years old and you know she’s already had six years of freedom, six years of bonding with her family and friends – and especially she’s had six years of socialization. By that age a girl has already been taught to believe that men shouldn’t be playing with her genitals as they wish, that she should be embarrassed to be seen naked in public, and that she should somehow be able to decide what she wants to do. By the time a girl reaches six years old, she may even already know that women have babies and that a woman’s tits are there to nurse those babies.

You bring in a girl older than about four or five years and you get a bunch of problems: Resentment of her captivity, a reluctance to perform sexual acts, objections to our demands that orders be obeyed without question and so forth. All of these are definite training and disciplinary problems. We don’t have any of those problems here since we acquire our girls so young – before they learn a lot of stupid social rules – and can train them to behave like we want them to.

Q: In other words, you substitute your own set of social rules of behavior for the ones the girls would have been taught had they remained with their families.

A: Exactly. If you think about it, we run Island Royale more like a classic Roman brothel than a conventional whorehouse, and these girls are all trained to behave like the slaves did back in those times. That’s our model.

Q: Please elaborate.

A: Gladly. Look, men have always wanted to have a lot of different pussy and they’ve devised a wide variety of ways to get it.

Keeping a large privately-owned stable of nubile females has always been reserved only for the Very Rich, of course. Arab culture in particular has traditionally approved of wealthy men having multiple wives and keeping women in harems as captive sex slaves. And for centuries it was common throughout the world for warlords, kings and emperors to own numerous female slaves and concubines they could fuck whenever they wanted to. But feeding and housing a bunch of gashes can get expensive, especially since they aren’t much good for anything else except to fuck, and so only very rich men could afford to have these toys. In fact, while these women were kept obviously to provide their masters sexual services, they served mainly as a status symbol – you know, as a way of demonstrating to others a guy’s wealth and prestige. By definition, the more females a man could own and maintain, the richer and more powerful he was seen to be.

Oh, sure, the King might have let his friends and colleagues use his girls, but the general public certainly wasn’t invited to the orgy. If an ordinary guy wanted to get laid, he either had to fuck the wife or hunt down some pussy on his own. The ordinary guy just couldn’t afford to keep a private stash of cunts, but (chuckling) he still liked the idea of fucking a bunch of different women. It didn’t take very long, therefore, before someone came up with the idea of pooling financial resources and started acquiring females who could be “rented out” to all the guys who wanted the pleasures of the harem but who individually could not afford the massive costs associated with one. Voila! The first bordello was created. And soon, there were many bordellos, each competing with the others for customers.

Many civilizations before and up through the days of the Roman Empire viewed having casual, impersonal sex with a stranger as a totally acceptable form of entertainment, and so elaborate brothels were built and stocked with slaves – both females and males – to serve the needs of their patrons. And for centuries, these businesses thrived. But attitudes change, and especially in Europe with the emergence of Christianity as a strong social force, the practice of owning slaves fell out of favor and sex itself came to be viewed, at least publicly, as a uniquely intimate act expressed only between married men and women. If a guy wanted to get a little extra-marital pussy he had to sneak out to get it, and since society no longer approved of or publicly supported lavish, ornate brothels stocked with sex slaves, he had to do it discreetly.

The traditional public whorehouse, at least since the Middle Ages, has by and large been a squalid little hut in a “bad” part of town, sheepishly visited by nervous men looking for an easy and relatively inexpensive way to get laid. The guy would arrive, select his prostitute, negotiate the price, fuck her and then leave as quickly as possible. Even in early medieval Europe, when society as a whole – not to mention the all-powerful Holy Roman Catholic Church – considered prostitution to be at least an “acceptable” occupation for a woman, customers rarely felt comfortable being seen in public with any of their whores. And that certainly remained true even for the miners and cowboys who were routinely being serviced out of the tents and saloons of the Old American West. Everybody knew the hookers were there, of course, but nobody in “decent” society would acknowledge them as fellow productive citizens of their community.

The fancy 19th Century “Gentlemen’s Establishments” of Paris and Berlin – and certainly their more primitive cousins in New Orleans, Chicago or San Francisco – weren’t really all that much better. Oh, the girls may have been a bit better dressed, and the whorehouses were perhaps kept a bit cleaner. Management would often even include some sort of alternate entertainment such as a nightclub act, a floor show, or maybe just a ragtime piano player, and the place may have seemed like a sort of private “club” to the patrons, but even the best of these places paled in comparison to the ornate brothels that they used to have in Roman days. Basically, regardless of how plain or fancy the whorehouse might be, the scenario really hasn’t changed all that much since the Middle Ages: The John still arrives and selects his prostitute, still negotiates the price of a fuck, and still leaves the place as soon as he has gotten laid.

And the women that work in these cathouses are all well aware of what they are doing. Some view providing sex as simply their occupation: No Fuck, No Eat. Others, such as those found in the seedy little clubs and “hotels” in Istanbul and Shanghai, may fuck out of fear – a fear of beatings, a fear of death, or sometimes simply because they fear life outside the whorehouse. All of these women have been taught to believe that what they are doing is “wrong” and not approved of by “decent” society, though, and most of these girls really don’t care whether their clients are happy. Heck, probably very few of them actually even offer up the use of their pussy without some resentment.

Q: But Island Royale is different.

A: That’s right. We model Island Royale after the luxurious bordellos that were popular at the height of the Roman Empire. Our females are true slaves, just like in the old days, and they are devoted to giving men pleasure. Our bitches accept without question that their only purpose in life is to sexually gratify men. That’s what makes Island Royale unique among the world’s brothels.

Q: Truly unique?

A: I think so. There are other sex resorts in the world, of course. Down in the Dominican Republic there’s Exotic Retreat for example and, oh yeah, the Angels in Paradise holiday resorts in Thailand. They’re pretty nice. But the way those places work is that the operators line up a bunch of good-looking women to be on hand as part of the hotel’s “accommodations package.” When a guest books a visit he reviews a list of the available females and reserves one of them to keep with him for the duration of his stay. Sometimes for a little variety a guest can arrange for a temporary “swap” with another visitor, but by and large he’s stuck with fucking the same bitch the whole time he’s there.

Q: Where do they get these women?

A: Oh, I don’t know. I think Exotic Retreat hires women mainly from Russia and other eastern European countries, but they also supplement their inventory with native Latinas. The Asian resorts recruit almost all of their women locally, though.

The gals make pretty good money as hookers, but they certainly all recognize that they are in the business of providing sex and companionship to these guys and can always quit if they get tired of the work or if they don’t think they’re getting paid enough for their services. And all of these women are adult professional prostitutes. No kids. If a guy wants to get some underage pussy, he’s got to leave the resort and go into town for it.

Not that it’s all that hard to find, really, especially in Thailand. There are a number of “hotels” just in Bangkok alone where a whole bunch of little girls are kept available for a quick lay. Shoot, in one of ‘em they even keep all the baby snatches stripped and standing around in these glass cages where a guy can just walk around and pick out the little cunt he wants to fuck. But it can be dangerous leaving the safety of the resort and, if a guy doesn’t know what he’s doing or where he’s going, there’s a good chance he can get ripped off – or worse.

Q: But not here.

A: No, Island Royale is completely different. We get our girls at a very tender age – four and five years old – and from the moment they arrive they are taught that their only reason for existence is to provide sexual pleasure to men. Here they’re told that’s all they’re good for, and that they will not have successfully fulfilled their purpose in life until they have fucked every man on the planet.

And here at Island Royale, a Guest is not simply limited to screwing just one or two of the girls – he has our entire inventory to choose from! Both sexually mature young women and preadolescent little girls, each willing and eager to please. Any time he wants.

Q: Any time?

A: Any time.

Look, as I said, our females here don’t just “act the part” of a submissive sex slave. They are sex slaves, and their lives are committed exclusively to sexually servicing men. A girl here who does not freely and enthusiastically suck cock is looked upon with distain by the other girls; the gash who is unable to get her Master to ejaculate feels she has failed somehow. At Island Royale, our prepubescent females anxiously await the day when they can finally spread their legs and receive a hard dick up their twat, and once they’re old enough to fuck, our slave bitches are genuinely disappointed if they don’t get laid at least four or five times each day.

Q: That’s just amazing. How do you get the girls to think that way?

A: Again, it’s all because of the age we get them.

We don’t take girls younger than four. We don’t want to bother with toilet training, or teaching them how to walk and all of that crap. But we do want to get them before they’ve been heavily influenced by “outside society.” That’s why acquiring a female child at the age of four or five years is ideal. They’re beyond the “toddler” stage and are eager to learn – to learn whatever it is we want to train them to do.

Q: And so does that training begin immediately?

A: Well, I guess the answer to your question would technically be yes, but a girl’s formal education and training doesn’t start for about a year or so after her arrival.

The first thing we do after we acquire a girl is to have her spayed. That obviously avoids for us the risk of pregnancy when she gets older. George prefers doing something called a “supracervical hysterectomy.” Simply sterilizing a female – you know, through radiation or maybe tying off her ovaries for example – isn’t enough because we would still need to deal with those awkward “monthlies” once she reaches puberty. Giving her a full supracervical hysterectomy makes her available for sex every day of the month for the rest of her life. And if you perform this surgery on a really young girl, she tends to heal up rather quickly.

While she is “under the knife,” so to speak, we also surgically rupture her hymen.

Years ago we didn’t do that, and instead would hold a raffle or something and offer up the girl’s virginity as a prize to one of our guests who happened to be visiting at the time she became ripe for fucking. But what we found was that the girl would be rather nervous about her first mounting, the Guest really excited, and invariably it seemed he would simply just want to jump on top of her, ram his dick up her twat as quickly as possible, fuck her hard and come. That would often leave quite a bloody mess and the girl might be in pain for days. Shoot, even after her pussy had healed she might still be scared about being fucked for several weeks afterward. So now, we simply rupture her hymen as soon as we get her, long before she learns what her cunt is for, and gradually introduce her to a dick as she grows up.

We do let her keep her clitoris, though. We want her to feel good about sex. (Laughing) We’re not interested in female genital mutilation around here.

Q: You said that formal training doesn’t begin then for about a year after you’ve obtained her. What do you do with her during that first year?

A: During that first year, before her formal education begins, all we expect from a girl is that she become accustomed to her nudity and comfortable being touched and fondled by men. After we’ve sterilized her, she’s equipped with her “jewelry” to designate her childhood – you’ve seen them on the younger girls in the Compound, I’m sure: A small red ceramic cherry attached to a thin gold chain leading from her vagina – and we get her used to wearing that.

She’ll spend a lot of time playing with her other “sisters” in the Nursery, and we’ll play with her, too. You know, feeling her up and fondling her pussy a lot – generally just get her used to being treated as a toy.

Q: While we’re on the subject of a girl’s “jewelry,” I also noticed that each of the girls wears a collar with her name printed on it. Under her nameplate, though, is a button. What is that button for?

A: When a female is between sessions, she’ll trigger a miniature receiver in her amulet. That way, we can keep track of how active she is and when she can be made available if a Guest summons her. While often a Guest will select a sex partner from among the females available in the Compound, he can also arrange for a specific girl to be summoned by using the computer terminal in his suite. Her amulet will vibrate and she will report to the concierge to receive instructions for her next assignment. Much like the electronics some restaurants use to let patrons know their table is ready.

(Laughing again.) It’s our version of “computer dating.” You just click on a girl you’d like to fuck and usually she’ll be at your door within minutes.

You really should check out your computer terminal.

Q: And so I shall. But back to the children. Do you simply send them right out into the Compound after that first year?

A: Oh, no, no. They won’t be permitted into the Compound for at least a few years or so after their arrival. After that first year, their formal training begins, but until they’re about seven or eight they’ll remain more-or-less segregated in the Nursery.

Q: How many girls do you keep in the Nursery?

A: Well, the figure is constantly changing, of course, as the girls complete their slave training and are put into service out in the Compound. Cynthia could tell you how many girls we have there at the moment, but on average I would guess we have around 175-180 or so baby pussies in the Nursery at any given time.

Q: I see. And do these girls go naked for those three years in the Nursery?

A: No, not all of the time. Initially they did, but what we discovered early on was that, if the little twats didn’t ever wear any clothing, they would get really uncomfortable once you tried to put clothes on them.

Most of our Guests, you see, don’t want these girls naked all of the time. They prefer that the staff tease them a bit. Sometimes they want to see their women in full length evening gowns; at other times, maybe just a short “revealing” outfit, allowing the girl to flash her tits and pussy. Having the little girls go completely naked all of the time would never give them a chance to learn how to wear clothing, so we introduce them to a rudimentary wardrobe when they are quite young.

Q: What do they wear, then?

A: Well, you’ll see for yourself later on when you visit the Nursery. But basically we have three simple outfits.

The first is just a rectangular sheet of cloth, hemmed on one edge, with a length of rope threaded through the loop. The girl wears the cloth around her waist and ties the cord in front. Her hips and ass are mainly covered, but of course her pussy remains exposed.

The second garment is really just a variation of the first, made with two much smaller pieces of cloth. Again, the girl wears this around her waist and ties the cord in front. Her flanks are somewhat covered, but her ass and pussy remain open to view.

When we want to introduce the girls to more elaborate clothing, we’ll start by having them wear a simple dress consisting of a couple of pieces of cloth with a semicircle cut out of one of the ends. Those ends are stitched together; she slips it over her head and ties a length of rope around her waist. The rope tends to make the cloth bunch up a bit in front but gives the girl a feel for cloth rubbing against her tits. The dress leaves her flanks exposed for the most part, and the cloth can be lifted easily in both the front and the back should you want to inspect her ass or vagina.

Sometimes, especially among the older girls on the verge of moving into the Compound, we may outfit them with more traditional “feminine” attire, but for the most part our girls in the Nursery wear one of those three basic outfits – if they wear anything at all.

Q: So then a girl’s formal training begins after about a year, right?

A: Training and education. Fairly early on, we concluded that we could not simply ignore basic education. So, we teach these girls the “Three ‘Rs’” – Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic – just as you would a kid in any typical grammar school.

Q: Why did you decide this was necessary?

A: It was so darn frustrating for us! We’d send a cunt to get something, and she couldn’t read the labels. Or we’d tell a girl to report for a session and she wouldn’t know which suite to go to – she couldn’t read the room number. Really, giving the bitches a basic education – to about a first or second grade level – is more for our benefit than it is for them. They certainly don’t need to be taught any other traditional grammar school subjects such as history or geography.

Q: Other than this basic education, then, what other instructions do your girls receive?

A: The Nursery curriculum consists of three more-or-less equal parts. One, as I said, is to give the little gashes an elementary understanding of reading, writing, and arithmetic.

The second is in what I like to call the “social graces.” These bitches will be with very wealthy and important men, and they all must learn how to present themselves properly and behave appropriately. They must develop good personal grooming habits and keep themselves clean, fresh, and ready for sexual activity at all times. We need them to be able to speak well. Etiquette is very important. We teach them to be polite and submissive. We teach them to obey orders. It is vital to us that these cunts always know they are subservient beings – animals, really – kept as pets solely for our amusement. We simply will not tolerate any female exhibiting an “independent streak” here.

Obviously, the third part of our educational program is devoted to providing the slaves extensive instruction in proper sexual technique. Our girls become familiar with male genitalia quite early in their training, and each will perform her first masturbation of a penis long before her sixth birthday. By the time they’re seven or eight, and ready to join the others in the Compound, all of these girls will be experts at giving head and providing exceptional hand jobs.

Q: And the girls don’t resist being used like this?

A: Absolutely not. They accept their existence as a sex slave quite easily.

You know, when we first started we thought we would have problems in that area, but we’ve never had any. I don’t know if the full answer can ever truly be known, but I think it’s a combination of a couple of things.

Certainly a large part of it, I think, is instinct. We may be living in the 21st Century, after all, but we still carry with us some remnants of our prehistoric nature. Way back in ancient caveman times, having children around was by and large a nuisance to the tribe. They were too young to go on a hunt, and too young to help keep the home fires going. Little girls in particular couldn’t do much of anything to earn their keep except that they could entertain their elders by sexually servicing their fathers, their older brothers, and the other adult males of the tribe. If you buy in to Darwin’s theory, as I do, that those who are more successful in adapting to their surroundings are more likely to live to maturity and reproduce, then it follows that those little gashes who were instinctively more inclined to provide sexual services were more likely to be allowed to remain with the clan. A young female who didn’t naturally take to sucking cock or who wouldn’t submit to being mounted whenever a male wanted to get laid was basically worthless to them and would either be killed outright or at least abandoned by the others and left to starve to death.

If you think about it, every successful civilization in history has been ruled by men, and by and large women have always served in a passive, submissive capacity. By instinct, females of all ages want to please men, and they unconsciously view performing sexual acts as a way of demonstrating to their bigger and more powerful male protectors and providers that they will remain docile and obedient servants at all times.

Look at the way little girls like to cuddle up on Grandpa’s lap, spreading their legs and encouraging Grandpa to touch and hug them. Girls at that age know nothing about fucking. What they do know on an unconscious level, though, is that by letting the older males play with their bodies, they can in turn rely upon those males to provide for and protect them.

And this isn’t just human behavior. Look at little puppies. They may be only a few weeks old, but already a few of the males in the litter will be seen demonstrating mounting activities. That can’t be sexual desire – they’re all far too young to breed. No, it must be a canine way of establishing each puppy’s social ranking within the pack.

Q: That’s a good theory.

A: But I don’t think that instinct alone explains why these girls are all so willing to engage in sexual acts. I think the role society plays in teaching young girls how to behave might be equally important. I truly do not believe that a little girl feels “victimized” or “exploited” if she’s called upon to provide sexual services unless or until someone – a parent, a teacher, or perhaps a social worker – tells her that what she’s doing is “wrong” or that she’s not supposed to be used like that.

I recall reading a story in a newspaper many years ago. Some little five-year-old girl had been taught to come home from school each day, take off her clothes, and give her stepfather a blow job. (Chuckling) Sort of a basic daily household chore for her, like washing the dishes or taking out the garbage. Around the time she turned twelve he started fucking her on a regular basis and later on let her older step-brother and some of his friends fuck her as well. This went on for several years, without any problems whatsoever, until the authorities learned of it and had the guy arrested.

Now, mind you, this little “family routine” didn’t come to light because the girl had complained to the police that she was being “sexually molested” on a more-or-less daily basis. Rather, they learned about it only because somebody overheard the girl’s step-brother talking with one of his friends about what a nice little tight pussy she had! Only after the girl had been sent into counseling did she learn that she had been made “a victim of sexual exploitation.” Only then did she start feeling “traumatized.” Hell, she had been getting along fine – doing quite well in school, even – until the damn counselors started messing with her head. After that, she was a basket case.

Think about it: Even in Europe, up until the 18th Century or so, girls were still routinely being married off when they were only nine or ten years old. Now, granted, a cunt that young is just way too small to safely fuck, but you can bet their husbands – some of whom were in their twenties, thirties, or even older – certainly didn’t wait around until their wives were eighteen to jump on top of them. Heck, back then fucking little girls wasn’t considered a sexual deviancy; it was just something you did with little girls. Certainly none of those kids back then thought of themselves as being “sexually exploited.” They were simply doing what their society expected of them. And for that matter, the Mormons still order girls into polygamous marriages when they’re twelve. Hell, she’ll have pupped out a few kids before she’s old enough to get a driver’s license!

All young bitches instinctively want to suck a cock – it’s in their DNA – and they all want to be mounted just as soon as their pussy is big enough. Shoot, it took a statute to make fucking a girl under eighteen a crime, and until societal attitudes changed, nobody considered the practice of screwing little girls at all improper. And for that matter, the practice is still considered quite socially acceptable in many Asian and Middle Eastern countries.

Simply put: There’s nothing “unnatural” about having sex with children. Pedophilia isn’t biologically a sexual deviancy; it’s just another way of having sex. It only becomes a “deviant sexual activity” if society decides to make it one.

Q: That all does make a lot of sense.

A: Of course it does! And so, all of our girls – who already instinctively want to sexually please men – are told that they are supposed to do so! It makes them feel good. It gives their life meaning and purpose. The females here on the island have all had men playing with their pussies for as long as they can remember, and they’ve all been sucking cock on a daily basis since they were five years old! It’s really not surprising, then, that by the time they’ve reached the age of eight, every one of our little slave bitches is an expert at giving head – and is eager to give it – and that they all look forward to the day when they’re finally old enough to get laid. Here at Island Royale, these cunts are all trained to understand that they exist only to provide men pleasure.

To these gashes, it’s not just their job – it’s their only purpose in life.

Q: But surely the children must still be taught how to perform fellatio. Who provides this instruction?

A: (Smiling) Well, in the early years me, George and the other administrative staff would do all the “tutoring.” But, as the business grew so did the Nursery, and after awhile we just had far too many little girls needing to suck our dicks than we could handle. The guys were all kept pretty busy just running the joint and they couldn’t, you know, always spare the time, so tapping the technical staff to take off work to have their cocks serviced didn’t work out very well at all for us once the Nursery really got going.

And then one week, one of the guys suggested that we ask for volunteers from among our Guests to help train our little girls to give blow jobs. Boy, was that a great idea! I think every single one of our Guests volunteered. (Laughing now.) We had to draw straws!

Nowadays, we simply make “training visits” to the Nursery a regular feature here at Island Royale. Getting a blow job in the Nursery is an extremely popular activity, but usually our Guests can get as much head as they want from the little ones during a week’s stay.

While you’re here this week you should definitely sign up for at least a visit or two. You’ll really enjoy it. Just contact the concierge for a reservation.

Q: All right, I will. So when are the Nursery girls actually then ready to join the general population of sex slaves in the Compound?

A: They’re all pretty well good to go before they turn eight. Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re immediately available to fuck. They won’t be ready for that for a few more years. That’s why they wear their ornaments.

Q: Yes, what are they exactly?

A: Well, basically they’re just a little plastic plug, shoved up into her pussy. They’re about the same diameter as a tampon, I guess, but are quite a bit shorter – only about two inches long or so. The chain attached to the end of the plug is a little bit longer – about four inches – and actually is made of gold so it doesn’t tarnish. The ornament itself is simply a ceramic charm, molded and painted to look like a cherry.

Q: I did find that amusing.

A: Yeah, most of the men do. And I take full credit for the design! (Laughing again.) Hey, even if none of these girls have an intact hymen anymore, they at least get to keep their “cherry” until they’re ripe.

The girls themselves, though, have no idea what the joke is.

Q: I wouldn’t think so. When do you decide to “pull the plug” and release a girl into the general population?

A: (Chuckling) You mean, when do we “pop her cherry?” That’s really a medical decision that George makes, but generally our girls become available for vaginal sex when they’re around eleven or twelve years old.

You understand, of course, that we give all of our slaves regular physical examinations, including full gynecological exams. That’s especially true of our preadolescents. And once the girls leave the Nursery, we’ll start conducting periodic dildo tests on them, so we have a pretty good idea of when it’s finally safe to pussy-fuck them.

Q: A “dildo test?”

A: (Laughing) Yeah, that’s what we call it. And it’s just what you’d expect it to be. We shove a rod up her cunt and measure how big a dick she can take.

As a matter of fact, I saw George earlier and I think he said he’d be giving a dildo test to one of our young girls in (glancing at his watch) well, just a few minutes from now, actually. Would you care to watch?

Q: It’s all right for me to be there?

A: Sure. George doesn’t mind and the gashes are all quite used to being naked around men.



* * * * * * * *


We suspended our interview at this point and Greg led me out of his office and down the long curving hallway leading to the entrance of the infirmary.

Inside the infirmary is a simple desk and behind this desk sits a chair and a row of plain metal filing cabinets. To the left are three small windowless rooms, two of which were open but neither occupied at the time of my visit. In each of the first two rooms there is a single-sized bed, a small writing desk and chair, and a wall of wood-faced cabinets. Indeed, in all material respects these rooms look just like any other modestly appointed sick room one might see in a high school or college infirmary. The third room, which remained closed and locked while I was there, serves as the resort’s surgical chambers and it is here that Dr. George sterilizes each of the newly acquired young female sex slaves.

To the right of the desk is a much larger room, obviously used for medical examinations. Dominating the center of the room is the table, covered with a white custom-fitted contour sheet and equipped with the ubiquitous gynecological stirrups doctors always seem to require when examining female genitalia. Running along the full length of the far wall is a laminated plastic countertop, with drawers and wood-faced cabinets installed both above and below. The countertop was empty during my visit except for a clipboard, two ballpoint pens, a few bottles of antiseptic near the stainless steel sink, and a long white tapered plastic rod, softly rounded on one end and ringed in multiple colors in what looked to me to be about half-inch intervals. The instrument appeared to be slightly more than two inches in diameter at its thickest point and to measure almost fourteen inches in length, although the colored marking rings stopped about three-quarters of the way from the shaft’s brightly-colored blue tip.

Several minutes passed before Dr. George arrived carrying a thin manila folder. After exchanging introductions, Dr. George explained that he would shortly be performing the routine examination of a ten-year-old girl named Mica. Commencement of the examination would be delayed slightly, he said with a hint of annoyance, as the girl was still “engaged in a session” with a Guest, but would be ordered to report to the infirmary as soon as she had concluded her blow job and had rinsed her mouth.

Dr. George showed me Mica’s file. Most of his medical notations were gibberish to me but I did glean some pertinent information regarding the girl:


• Mica had been acquired by Island Royale at the age of four years as part of a trade that had sent two of the resort’s older women to a wholesale sex slave broker in Istanbul, along with twelve others he had purchased, in exchange for ten very young girls, age 4-5 years. A few of these children had simply been kidnapped by the broker himself from their rural village homes in (the former) Yugoslavia, but most of them had been purchased from others who had performed the actual abductions. Mica had been born in a small town near the Russian-Ukrainian border and had been sold to the broker by one of her maternal uncles for an undisclosed price. The small photograph clipped to her file suggested Mica to be an attractive little girl with dark hair and brown eyes.

It suddenly occurred to me that little “Mica” might very well be one of the children whose disappearances had launched my investigation into the sex slave industry. I scoured her file for the name of her home village and, yes indeed, the area had been one of the first places I had visited. I mentally calculated when that visit had occurred and concluded that the little girls taken from the village at that time would all be about ten years old by now.