CHAPTER ONE

 

Though the furniture was modern and expensive, the room had a faintly Oriental look about it. The Byzantine murals, ornate tapestries and heavy curtains contributed. A faint smell of something like joss-sticks hung in the air. On today's equivalent of a velvet-covered Victorian chaise-longue reclined a man wearing a colourful Caftan. With eyes half closed, he was smoking, using a holder. It was hash.

There came a faint buzzing noise and a white light above one of the doors began to flash. Languidly the man stretched out an arm and picked up the house-phone receiver which hung nearby.

"Yes?"

"It's Hamoon, Sir. May I disturb you?"

"I don't see why not, Hamoon."

The man put down the receiver and pressed a button by the phone. The door below the light slid back. At the same time, the man patted the blonde head which was positioned between his thighs - the Caftan having been pulled up to his lower belly. The head, which had been bobbing gently, became still. Its owner had within her mouth as much as possible of a very large penis - one that was still virtually flaccid. Kaspar Montolive was feeling rather lazy that afternoon. Still, the sensations were quite pleasing.

Into the room came a bull of a man. Bald, high cheekbones, his Turkish origins were obvious. He was nearly six feet tall and both broad and muscular with it. Probably in his mid-thirties. He wore a red, full-sleeved blouse, white breeches and black boots.

The fact that a naked young girl knelt on the couch servicing his 'Master' with her mouth obviously concerned him not at all. She might as well have been a pet kitten curled up there for all the notice he took.

"I have news, Sir. I thought it warranted informing you at once."

"Yes, Hamoon?" A puff on the cigarette; eyes still lazy.

"The Lady Melbury, Sir. She has been taken... and is already en route here."

"Aaaahh..." A pair of dark eyes opened, no longer lazy, but sharp. "You did well to inform me."

"Sir, I crave instructions."

"Quite so, Hamoon." A pause. "Lady Susan is to be untouched until she is brought before me."

"Very good, Sir." Hamoon bowed fractionally, turned and left. The door slid back behind him as Kaspar Montolive pressed the button again. Then he patted the blonde head... and felt a warm-wet mouth resume its sucking.

Lady Susan Melbury. Well, he'd waited a long time. Over six months. But there had been a lot of detailed organisation to ensure her safe abduction. Such a prize was not easy to come by and the greatest care had to be taken to maintain security. What a furore there would be in the Press! Rather like there had been when Lord Lucan disappeared. However, like him, Lady Susan would not be discovered.

But she would be alive!

She would be HIS!

Kaspar Montolive found the thought stimulating. The Blonde girl with the penis in her mouth felt it thickening slightly. She sucked assiduously. Kaspar's eyes rested on the soft, well-rounded hindquarters reflected in a mirror which stood just beyond the end of the chaise-longue. A quite charming girl. Not only the most recent of his acquisitions but also the youngest. She had been at Bella Vista some four months and was only 18. Kate was her name. He made her suck him quite frequently, largely because he knew it was one of the things she disliked most. That added to his pleasure. In fact, the girl had never done such a thing before she arrived. The very idea had horrified and revolted her. That shapely bottom had done a great deal of squirming before she could be 'persuaded' to co-operate.

Persuasion was one of Kaspar's favourite words.

"Doubtless she will need a little persuasion..."

"See if you can persuade her, Hamoon..."

"Do you need more persuasion, my pretty?"

And so on...

Thus, in time, Kate had been persuaded to overcome her natural instincts. Now she sucked with no show of reluctance. Often, indeed, with what seemed like Zeal!

Kaspar wondered idly how long it would take to persuade Lady Susan Melbury to kneel where Kate was at that moment. To have her do as Kate was doing. Quite some time, he guessed. Kaspar smiled. So much the better.

Was he going to allow himself to be brought to fell erection?

Had he got the energy? He'd had a prolonged and most enjoyable fuck that morning. Camilla, both buxom and energetic, had taken quite a lot out of him. Still, the thought that he now owned Lady Susan Melbury was certainly heating his loins. Steadily he grew thicker and thicker.

Why not then?

Kate, head bobbing more furiously, was working with what might be termed relish. Oh yes... it felt very good... very good.

Lady Susan... ah... Lady Susan... you don't know what's in store for you! Lust flared fiercer and fiercer within Kaspar Montolive. Within a few more minutes, blonde Kate had a big prick jerking uncontrollably in her mouth and was swallowing spunk as fast as her throat could get it down.

 

***

 

At 42, Kaspar Montolive looked younger. Dark hair just faintly streaking with grey, he was lean and fit. This leanness and fitness he put down to sexual over-indulgence. 'The greatest exercise in the world,' he called it. He had a theory that once a man ceased sexual activity, Nature regarded him of no more value to her... and acted accordingly! There is some evidence for this, but Kaspar was not one to write a thesis on it.

Born of Russian and Armenian parents, he had inherited something of his father's bulky toughness whilst receiving a certain gracefulness, coupled with aquiline features and half-slanting, liquid-dark eyes from his mother. His body, apart from the pubic region, was virtually hairless - most appropriate in view of his name.

He was a self-made man and immensely rich, dealing in commodities worldwide. Not that his father had been exactly poor. But Kaspar had made himself worth a hundred times as much. From his father came a certain calm solidity; from his mother, the natural cruelty of the Armenian race. Through the ages they have been renowned for the raping and killing of the women and children of their enemies. Mercilessly, they have scattered human lives as if they were no more than fallen leaves.

So can Kaspar Montolive be blamed for the genes which were within him... and made him behave as he did? It is a question for geneticists and philosophers and need not concern us here. The human race is constantly creating monsters. It is perhaps fortunate that only a few of them have the will or the means to indulge their perversions and exploit their power.

Yes, from Caligula to Hitler there have been many such. But these men were responsible for the misery and death of millions. Whereas our rather self-indulgent Kaspar Montolive is responsible for the misery of but a few. And the death of none.

That, at least, can be said in his favour.

Every alternate month, he travels to the capitals of the world to promote his business interests... to mix with the mighty... to enjoy Ascot, or Glyndbourne, or the Monaco Grand Prix. To enjoy whatever he wishes in the social sense. His financial resources are virtually unlimited. Then, every alternate month, he returns to the secret fastness of Bella Vista, a vast, high-walled estate nestling in a valley of Andorra - a tiny state at the base of the Spanish Pyrenees. He simply has his staff... and the female 'possessions' he has arranged to have abducted from various parts of the world.

This, as a way of putting it, is his 'relaxation'.

The abduction organisation of Kaspar Montolive need not over-concern us. Suffice to say it is Russian KGB orientated and exceedingly discreet and efficient. Abductions are made world-wide... channelled into various European countries... and thence to Andorra. Only Hamoon, or his Algerian assistant, Musad, ever carry out the final stage of an abduction. Thus even the main organisation does not know of the final destination of its victims.

Over a period of five years, eleven successful abductions have been made. Lady Susan Melbury will make the twelfth. And she will be the first member of the aristocracy to be confined within the forbidding walls of Bella Vista.

The staff Kaspar Montolive employs is small in number but exceedingly efficient. At its head is 'Chief of Staff', Hamoon the Turk. His assistant is 30-year-old Musad, a dusky-skinned Algerian. On the female side, there is Miriam Vogel, a 40-year old South African woman. Cruelty is like a coiled spring within her - her assistant is a 24-year-old half-caste Negress who goes by the name of Rose. She is a most beautiful girl of both features and body, more westernised in appearance than Negroid, apart from her coffee-coloured skin. Though Kaspar fancies her a great deal, he has never laid a hand on her. He knows she is a lesbian and, in any event, he had plenty of other 'material' available.

What about the domestic staff, you may ask?

Simple. This kind of work is carried out by the women who have been abducted. Their duties are not only of a sexual nature! Miriam Vogel arranges a rota... and is as strict as any Victorian housekeeper in seeing that it is carried out to her satisfaction. More of this later, of course.

That, then, is the basic framework of Bella Vista. A small, tight-knit group which know exactly what it is doing and what it wants. The staff are, it need hardly be said, 100% reliable and faithful to Kaspar Montolive. He has chosen them all with the greatest care, with an eye to security. But, beyond that, he knows that each and every one of his staff enjoys their job so much that betrayal would be unthinkable. Beyond that, vicious retribution would be certain. With Kaspar Montolive coming out on top as usual!

In short, the organisation is expert and efficient. It doesn't make mistakes and it gets the results required. Kaspar Montolive is as successful in his private indulgences as he is in business life. Because he has both will and imagination. He turns fantasy into fact.

How many of us do not long to do that!

Unfortunately, we lack Kaspar's money, iron determination and organisational skill.

 

***

 

Miriam Vogel's pale blue eyes were on the folder which was set upon her desk. The hardness of her angular features, as impassive as ever, was emphasised by the way she wore her flaxen hair. It was pulled back tight over her scalp and fastened in a coil at the nape of her neck. As was her general custom during the day, she was leather garbed. All black... tunic-jacket, pleated skirt, calf-length boots with four inch spike heels. She was studying the previous day's rota, headed 'Tuesday', prior to making one out for that day. It read as follows:

 

 

NAME AGE NATIONALITY DUTIES

 

Kate 18 English Sexual

Camilla 24 English Sexual

Gina 20 Italian Sexual

Ninette 24 French Sexual

Mina 21 Barbadian Sexual

Tessa 26 English Domestic

Teresa 22 French Domestic

Maisie 23 Brazilian Domestic

Nesta 25 Irish Domestic

Monique 24 French Domestic

Leila 24 German Domestic

 

Punishments awarded

 

Monique - reported by Hamoon for breakages in his suite.

TWELVE STROKES OF THE CANE.

SIX ADMINISTERED BY M.V. SIX TO BE ADMINISTERED WEDNESDAY

 

***

 

Taking a fresh sheet of paper, Miriam Vogel headed it 'Wednesday'... and began re-listing.

Kate and Ninette remained on Sexual Duties, while Camilla, Gina and Mina switched to Domestic. Tessa, Teresa and Maisie took their place on Sexual Duties. Nesta, Monique and Leila remained on Domestic Duties, as they did permanently. This was because Kaspar Montolive had more or less slaked himself upon them and now rarely called for their services. These services they now had to give to Hamoon and Musad who were not permitted to make full sexual use of the other girls unless given a direct order by their 'Master'.

Miriam Vogel out down her pen and glanced at her wristwatch. One minute to ten a.m. A new day at Bella Vista was about to begin. A receiver was picked up, a button pressed.

"I'm ready, Musad."

"Very good, Miriam. Be with you shortly."

Shortly after, there came a knock at the door. "Enter," said Miriam Vogel.

Musad, swarthy skinned, with black, crinkly hair, came in first. He wore white drill trousers, but was bare chested. He was a handsome, well-muscled man, thirty years of age. Inclining his head, he smiled at the figure behind the desk.

"Good morning," he said.

Miriam nodded but did not smile back. Her cold eyes were upon the line of naked figures who followed him in. These were her charges. Creatures whose sole functions were to see to the smooth running of Bella Vista, and, to the limit of their ability, satisfy the sexual needs of Kaspar Montolive. She reckoned that, under her direction, they had been trained to near perfection. Most of them, anyway. Perhaps Kate, Ninette and Tessa, the three most recent arrivals, still needed a little watching.

Silently the girls faced the desk. Then each knelt, placed her forehead to the floor and stretched out her arms. It rather looked as if they were praying to Mecca. The buttocks of one of the girls carried six bright-hued weals (this was Monique) but the others were unmarked, or virtually so - special quick-healing ointment is employed at Bella Vista. It removes blemishes with miraculous rapidity and, if any traces remain, they are covered with skin-coloured cream and fine dusting powder of the same hue.

"Up," said Miriam.

The girls now knelt erect, each placing hands on top of her head. They gazed steadily ahead, eyes filled with resigned despair.

"Where's Gina?" asked Miriam.

"Still with the Master," answered Musad.

Miriam nodded. "When he's finished with her, she'll go on Domestic Duties."

"Right..."

"All stand," ordered Miriam. The girls stood... and, in their ripe, young beauty, did indeed make an enchanting spectacle. They had, of course, all been handpicked for beauty of face and figure. Breasts of various sizes thrust firmly; buttocks, also of differing amplitude, curved delectably. Each girl had been depilated, making sex lips pout with added provocativeness and seeming to emphasise her stark nudity and total availability.

Now Musad slid back the door of a wardrobe which ran the full length of one wall. He took out six small lace aprons, six lace caps and six pairs of black patent leather shoes.

"Get dressed, girls," said Musad with a grin. It was indeed amusing to call this dressing! The aprons neither covered the breasts nor reached the pubic mound. They were, of course, not meant as a covering but simply as a symbol of servitude. In silence the lacy items were put on. Then the girls stepped into their high heels.

"Off to work then," said Musad, giving the bottom of the girl nearest to him a smart slap.

"Monique is to remain," said Miriam.

"Ah, yes," nodded Musad. Then he headed for the door, with five figures following meekly behind.

Miriam stood and went to the wardrobe, returning with various boxes. "Time to pretty up," she said.

First she stood before Maisie who was a tall, well-built Brazilian Negress. A full Negress with flesh gleaming jet black. Out came a white corset which was laced with excessive tightness around the girl's waist. Six long, thin suspenders hung down and, in turn, these were fastened to a pair of white silk stockings. A pair of high heeled red shoes completed Maisie's 'outfit'.

"Don't want to cover up that lovely black cunt, do we?" said Miriam.

"No, Madam," answered Maisie submissively. It was the fashion in which Miriam had to be addressed.

Moving down the line, Miriam 'prettied up' each girl in turn. Teresa was given large gold earrings and a gold chain belt. Tessa, less fortunate, had small rings clipped on to her nipples... and from each of these hung a ruby. Another ruby was affixed into her navel. Around Ninette's waist went a leather belt from which hung, over her belly, a plaque shaped like a broad arrow. The wording on it was simple and to the point. It read 'PLEASE FUCK ME, MASTER'.

"Who knows, perhaps he will," remarked Miriam casually... and finally moved to Kate. The girl flinched under her cold gaze. She was still much of a novice and terror filled her at the thought of what this woman had done, and could still do, to her. "You are for the Master's cage, child," said Miriam. Kate made no answer. What was there to say?

It was one of Kaspar's little foibles to always have one of the girls put into a gilded cage which hung from the ceiling of his sitting room... a human 'bird' to be gazed upon, to be teased, fondled and played with at will. Most diverting! For Kaspar.

"Legs astride, child," ordered Miriam. Kate straddled her limbs quickly. She had been taught not to dally over such an order. In Miriam's hand was a lipstick and this, bright pink, she now applied to Kate's sex lips. "I know the Master enjoys your mouth," she said, "but we must make this ripe young cunt just as tempting as possible, eh?"

Again, Kate made no reply. But she shivered. "I shall take you to the Master's cage shortly," Miriam said. "You others will await his summons."

"Yes, Madam," they chorused.

Now Miriam turned to Monique, the girl who stood in isolation, carrying six stripes across her bottom. She was dark-haired, dark-eyed, wide-mouthed, very Gallic. Very beautiful.

"We have a little unfinished business, my girl," said Miriam.