The Third Richest Man in the World

CHAPTER 1

I just touched Sid’s arm. He got the message immediately. “Sunglasses, skin-tight jeans, great ass…okay, Boss I’m on it.” His cell phone was out and he barked a few coded commands to the rest of his team. He’d get a photo with the phone and seconds later the entire team—four men, two cars, and a motorcycle—would cover her for at least a week, all without her knowledge. I’d review the file and make the decision to take her or not. At first glance my instinct was to take her. We’d have to find the right time and place, but that would come rather easily. We’d done it before—several dozen times.

I’m rich—filthy rich—richer than filthy rich. I made my money on the internet before diversifying into more than a dozen different industries. I’d tell you how, but then you’d know who I am and I can’t have that—not yet, anyway. Anonymity is important to me, especially when I tell you my story.

I was rich, a multi-billionaire sure, but what I really craved was the power to totally control another human being—to be able to control their every action and thought. What good is money without power? That’s how I came up with the idea. Using regular real estate resources I looked for and bought an island—15 square miles of lush tropical jungle in the South Pacific—well off the beaten trail where I could be alone. Well, not really alone, but I’ll get to that in a bit.

I brought in architects and engineers—men and women who knew how to keep their mouths closed. Primarily, these were construction companies who were accustomed to building facilities for the Department of Defense and NATO. Step one was the construction of a landing strip more than a mile long that could easily handle a Gulfstream G550, the interior of which has been modified to handle my special cargo needs.

My island has two major buildings—what I refer to as the hotel for my “guests” and the dormitory for my employees—as well as a number of smaller outbuildings. First, let me tell you about my employees. I have two pilots, of course, and aircraft maintenance personnel even though the bulk of my aircraft maintenance is done on New Zealand, approximately 2,500 miles away. I have all the personnel one would expect to find in a five-star hotel—everything from chefs to maids to masseuses to gardeners to maintenance personnel. They live in the dormitory which has all the comforts normally found in a four-star hotel. There is a high electrified fence that separates the hotel from the other facilities. There is only a single radio for communications to the outside world. It is in a small locked room in the hangar with only the Chief of Security holding the key. The telephone system has no outlet to the outside world. Only buildings on the island are reachable by telephone.

For the most part my employees are men and, since all of my “guests” are nubile and naked young women who are off limits to everyone but me, they have their own supply of women, all of whom work in one capacity or another. I pay them extremely well and also give them plenty of time off in either New Zealand or Australia, or even Japan to recharge their batteries and dip their dicks in as many cunts as they can handle. Only once did an employee attempt to seduce one of my “guests.” My chief of security is both loyal and effective; the man hasn’t been heard from since.

My “guests” each have their own suite of rooms complete with balconies that overlook the ocean and the reef that protects the beach from storms and sharks. The only thing missing from the suites are closets. There is no need; all my “guests” are naked at all times.

Many of my “guests” are unwilling at first. That’s to be expected since they have been kidnapped and drugged before being transported to the island. I select them carefully as I travel around the globe with my staff. However, I do compensate them for their stay at the rate of $1,000,000 per year.

Just last week I was touring the British Isles where I acquired two new “guests.” I was wandering through the ancient Roman Baths in the equally ancient city of Bath with two of my trusted assistants—Sid and Champ. I was reading one of the explanatory signs when I saw her. She looked to be mid-twenties, tall and slender; Mediterranean, I thought. Her breasts were a trifle small for my usual tastes, but she had great hips, washboard abs, and an ass that just wouldn’t quit. It was muscular and well-developed with an appetizing spread between her legs. We saw her again at several exhibits. A tap on Sid’s arm was all he needed. He followed her for almost two weeks, providing me with a complete report that would make the FBI or CIA jealous. She was taken from her flat in Kensington, about three blocks from the famous park just outside the City of London early on a Monday morning. The team went into her apartment at 3:01 a.m. and were out five minutes later unseen and unheard. Bianca had been chloroformed and placed into a black carry bag and taken to the van where she was injected with a strong sedative by Malcolm, a former U.S. Navy medic who would monitor her vitals all the way to the island.

My second guest was located in Edinburgh, Scotland while my team and I strolled down the Royal Mile from Edinburgh Castle toward Holyrood Palace. I never even saw her face, but she had the firmest ass I’d ever seen. Her short shorts ran up between her ass cheeks like they were a second skin. Champ followed her. Her name was Sheena, 19, a student, and a physical fitness nut. She was taken from her university dorm room. Her roommates never saw or heard a thing.

Bianca arrived on a Wednesday after flying half-way around the globe. She was sedated—unconscious—with Malcolm seeing to her the entire way. An IV of saline solution ensured that she was adequately hydrated. A catheter inserted into her bladder removed her liquid wastes into a sealed vinyl bag. She reclined on a special bed complete with belts and blankets to safeguard her. Once on the island she was rushed to the hotel lobby where she was met by Samantha as Malcolm injected her with the antidote. He was gone in the Land Rover seconds later and the integrity of the electrical fence was restored.

Samantha rubbed the young woman’s cheeks, encouraging her to regain consciousness. “Uh…where am I? Who are you?”

“One thing at a time, dear; I’m Samantha, but I answer to ‘Sam.’ You might call me a house mother even though I’m only a few years older than you. I’ll help you become acclimated to your new surroundings. I’ll explain everything, but, first of all, are you thirsty or hungry?”
“No…I just want to know where the fuck I am and how do I get out of here?”

“The best I can tell you is that we’re somewhere in the South Pacific on a privately-owned island. As for getting out of here…you will in a year, exactly 365 days from today, if that’s what you want. Before we do anything else you need to send several messages—one to your family and another to your employer. It will be easy. We’ll go into the studio and you can read from the script.”

“And, if I don’t?”

“You will, especially once I explain why you’re here and how much you’re being paid. You’ve been selected by the Master to be his sexual plaything. It’s quite an honor…believe me. There are nine of us here now, including you and one more new girl coming Saturday. That’s good because four girls are scheduled to leave soon. One of them, I think, will ask to be extended for another year.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—stay here voluntarily? Why?”

“Well, for one thing we live here in luxury—much better living conditions than any of us have experienced at home. We each have our own suite. We have haute cuisine chefs, maids, stylists, masseuses, you name it. And, of course, there’s the money—one million tax free U.S. dollars a year. I’ve left twice and both times I’ve asked to come back. Soon I’ll have enough to live the rest of my life in luxury or buy a small business, whatever I like. Let’s get the messages out of the way and then I’ll get you settled in.”

Samantha led the startled young woman into the studio. The technician showed her where to sit and how to read the teleprompter. “What we’re going to do is prepare a DVD. All you have to do is read the teleprompter and act sincerely. If you don’t we’ll be here until you get it right. Personally, I’m hoping you’ll be cooperative. I’m planning on getting laid this afternoon.”

“No…not you, dear,” Samantha laughed and explained. “The staff has their own women. You and the others here are strictly for the Master. You can always tell the staff; they’re the only ones permitted clothes. I’ll shed mine before we leave here and so will you. You’ll adjust to the nudity easily—we all do.”

Bianca looked down at her tee shirt and shorts, what she called her pajamas, then sat where she was led and ran through the script then read as instructed. She decided she was hungry and was hoping to eat soon. “Hi, Mama and Papa, I want you to know I’m okay. I’ve taken a new job and things here are kind of hush–hush so I can’t tell you where I will be working, but I can tell you that the salary is fantastic. I’ll be in touch in a few months. Bye…I love you both.”

“Okay, that was pretty good. Let’s just do it another time.” Bianca was upset, but repeated before taping a similar message to her former employer. She was about to leave the studio when Samantha reminded her to remove her clothing.

“It’s the rule, dear. Also, we’ll have to deal with your pubic hair. We have special treatments to remove all of it.” Samantha led the way, removing the few garments she’d worn for the official greeting then assisted Bianca with hers. Everything, including her shoes went into a bag that was labeled and collected by the technician. Bianca was astounded by Samantha’s body. Samantha was obviously somewhat older than Bianca was yet her body was incredibly fit and toned.

Samantha read Bianca’s mind. “Master requires that we work out regularly. Other than that we are pampered shamelessly. Let’s get a bite and then I’ll show you to your accommodations. I’m sure you’ll be pleased.” They walked across the lobby and into the hotel dining room. It was surprisingly small with seating for not more than eighteen people—three tables for four and one for six although there was room for a number more. Bianca was impressed by its opulence. They sat at a table covered with a spotless linen table cloth and set with genuine sterling silver cutlery and what she recognized as expensive bone china. Their chairs were upholstered in leather—the softest leather she had ever felt. The table overlooked the beach and a luxurious free-form pool where Bianca saw several other young women romping in the water. Like her they were completely naked and they were all incredibly beautiful and sexy. They looked as though they were having fun.

A uniformed waitress brought menus and if she thought there was anything strange about serving naked women she kept it to herself. The menu was quite extensive. “Everything is cooked from scratch here and the food is quite excellent. If we’re not careful we’ll all be as fat as a pig before long.”

“Does everyone eat here?”

“Only Master’s “guests” dine here—and Master, of course, when he’s here. We get three meals a day and we can also have English High Tea here in the afternoon. We can also get waitress service out on the beach or at the pool. We can have wine or beer if we like or even spirits, but we’re not permitted to get drunk. Several of us like to swim or run on the beach, but we’re always careful—the sun is especially strong here. There’s always one of us to help you with the lotion.

“Speaking of lotion I think we should address your body hair as soon as we finish lunch. I’ll help you with it and I think we can get Carrie to join us. She’s the redhead out there. She’ll need to come out of the sun soon, anyway.”

They ordered lunch–crab bisque and the cold lobster salad. Both ordered iced tea to drink. The soup was excellent in Bianca’s opinion, but the lobster salad was just outstanding with large succulent pieces of cold Maine lobster atop a bed of fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and multicolored sweet peppers that was lightly doused in balsamic vinaigrette. Bianca couldn’t recall such a delicious meal except, perhaps, when her parents had taken her out for some celebration. She knew the meal was over when Samantha rose from her chair.

Together they walked down a set of steps and outside. “Carrie,” she called, “time you were out of the sun, I think. Come over and help me with the new girl.” At that the entire group jumped up and ran in their direction. Bianca was stunned by their beauty and overt sexuality. Could she compete with these vixens? Apparently someone thought so. Was it the Master? She wondered as the other women introduced themselves. She also wondered how they could be so relaxed after being kidnapped.
 
Together they walked into the building and down one additional level. Carrie brought over a pair of leather handcuffs, telling her, “Not to worry—we’ve all done this at least four times. These are for your protection. You definitely don’t want this stuff in your mouth or eyes.” Bianca allowed herself to be handcuffed and watched silently as her cuffs were attached to a cable suspended from the ceiling. Seconds later she was secured, her legs separated and held in place with sturdy ropes.

Again Carrie approached her. “Two other important objects—a bathing cap and a blindfold; this stuff is strong. It’ll remove all your body hair and after a few other treatments it will be permanent. What a joy not to have to shave your legs or pits. Marie and I will help Sam so it will go faster for you. You’ll find the solution burns a bit, but nothing serious. We should be done in about fifteen minutes. Just try to hold perfectly still…okay?”

Seconds later Bianca felt three sets of hands rubbing a gel or lotion over her skin. Carrie had been right—it did sting a bit, but after ten minutes it was hosed away carrying her hair with it. “One more treatment, Bianca, to neutralize the gel then a quick rinse and we’ll dry you off.” Bianca stood completely still as the neutralizer was applied. She felt better—cleaner—once it was done.

She waved good-bye to Marie as Sam and Carrie accompanied her up the stairs. “There are no locks on the doors, Bianca. We have no need. Here is the storeroom for hair care and cosmetics. You simply help yourself to what you need.