Constancia Island E-Book

Chris Bellows

• Herausgeber: pinkflamingo
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2001

Beschreibung

Constancia Island, an exclusive Caribbean paradise is a sovereign country designed exclusively for the institution of Female Domination and male submission... where troubled young males, at one time destined for lives of crime, are treated as beasts of burden, ponyboys, not only for the amusement of the island's defacto queen, Lady Constance, but as the island's sole method of conveyance for visitors and residents alike. Lady Constance is assisted in her endeavors by welltrained female descendants of a curious African tribe whose disdain for the male gender becomes the basis for the female hierarchy on the island. Everything at the island has been built and acquired to keep the male beast wellexercised, chaste and servile. Majordomo to Lady Constance, Jasmine, properly trains the submissives, and assists Dr. Reinhold in the ultimate medical modification of the male to keep them subservient, randy and eager to serve their Mistress in any way she desires.

Leseprobe

Constancia Island

by Chris Bellows

ISBN 10: 0-9742892-3-X

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

Copyright © 2005 Chris Bellows

All rights reserved

This compilation of notes continues my efforts to study Lady Constance, said to be the world’s most dominant woman. Having researched D/s relationships for many years in my capacity as a clinical psychologist, my initial undertaking was to better understand the relationship of Lady Constance and ‘boy’, a trained subjugant. Taking a sabbatical from my university, I spent many weeks interviewing those concerned with ‘boy’s’ care and training. My efforts included a flight to Europe for additional background information and have been summarized in a treatise termed ‘Lady Constance’.

These notes are an addendum to that effort, arising mainly from a trip, at Lady Constance’s suggestion, to her exclusive Caribbean island.As with the ‘Lady Constance’ treatise, this draft also results from organizing my notes for a paper to be submitted to the American Society for Behavior Modification.

Chapter One

I have a two-hour wait in the Berlin airport for my plane to Aruba. My flight from Munich arrived early, another tribute to German efficiency.

The time between flights provides me with an opportunity to read background material on my ultimate destination, Constancia Island.

Since Lady Constance surprised me with the airplane ticket to Aruba, I had little notice concerning this extended leg of my trip. But I was able to perform some quick research before leaving and located, deep in the bowels of a New York research library, old magazine articles from the 1920's. Other articles were found, and I copied all and placed them in my brief bag without reading them, having to spend the remainder of the day packing.

In the following summaries, the italics are my editorial clarifications.

Esquire, May 25, 1923 “Baron Esterhoven Purchases an Island”

The wealthy Baron Esterhoven (great grandfather to Lady Constance) has purchased a small, secluded island near Aruba. Past ownership, of the uninhabited two-mile by seven-mile island, has been disputed by three countries, Netherlands, France and Spain. Thus it was only someone such as the influential Baron, with access to the halls of world leadership and with immense wealth, who could finally negotiate the ultimate status of the secluded strip of tropical greenery.

The solution..., for undisclosed sums paid to all three countries, it now belongs to him. Therefore, a new principality has been created with the Baron and his wife becoming defacto King and Queen of what, by signed agreement, will be recognized as a separate country.

The Baron was not available for interview, but associates close to the family suggest that the driving force behind the expenditure of considerable time and money, was the beautiful, young Baroness. Noted for her skills as an equestrienne, it seems she has long sought a private facility for training and breeding. Knowledgeable breeders ponder the effect of tropical heat and thus the usefulness of the island as a facility for horses.

Eccentricity is the privilege of wealth.

International Construction (a trade journal) June 1924 “Baron Esterhoven Proceeds with Construction”

Baron Esterhoven has engaged a sizable construction crew and provided them with their own ship to facilitate conversion of his recently acquired island into a habitable utopia.

The SS Bohemia, leased by the Baron for one year, recently sailed from Savannah, Georgia after taking on earth moving equipment, building material, and a diverse crew of engineers, carpenters, plumbers, electricians.

Plans for the island are secretive, but dock workers report that the equipment and materials are considerable and could be used to build a city.

Time, October 15, 1925 “A New Nation?”

Stories are circulating in eastern Africa that the Baroness Esterhoven, said to be Europe’s most beautiful socialite, has been offering to hire and relocate members of a small African tribe to her island paradise.

Many Baganda tribe members, noted for their unusual decorative bodies, were seen boarding the Esterhoven yacht in Mombasa. Mostly young women with a few men, it is rumored that their destination is the small island purchased and recently made habitable at the cost of many dollars by the Baron Esterhoven.

As reported in many society publications, the Baron Esterhoven is effectively a King, having acquired the small island in such a manner as to assure its sovereignty as an independent state. So, a King needs subjects, and the impoverished members of the tribe have apparently been personally interviewed by the Baroness for employment and relocation.

Long known for her riding skills, the Baroness, some thirty years younger than the Baron, has applied much energy in completing the unusual project, said to be a vacation home with stables and training facilities.

No one is on record as having seen the island after the two-year renovation. Located some twenty miles from Aruba, all construction workers apparently had lucrative contracts which included secrecy and non-disclosure clauses, thus society circles are abuzz with rumor and innuendo. And with the proclivities of the young Baroness the subject of much past gossip, it is no wonder that the reclusive world of the fabulously wealthy is ‘champing at the bit’ for a glimpse of the world’s newest country.

New York Times, May 23, 1936 “The Most Exclusive Voyage”

With the economy still reeling, socialite Baroness Esterhoven, widow of the immensely wealthy Baron Esterhoven, has chosen New York as the port of embarkation for her annual soiree to the Caribbean. The Esterhoven yacht, dwarfing many cruise ships, stands ready to sail from the 42nd Street pier.

Is it a newly found duty of the rich to bolster the country’s staggering level of employment? In a curious instance of noblesse oblige, help wanted advertisements have been attributed to the Baroness and her planned voyage. The ads seek ‘healthy young males’ for what is described as ‘well paid manual labor’ with ‘no skills required’. There is certainly no end to such a pool of labor.

Interviews for an undeterminable number of jobs were said to include a rather extensive medical examination, which the Baroness personally supervised with nurses and the noted urologist, Dr. Emily Reinhold.

Bon Voyage to those fortunate few who met the criteria.

New York Times, February 5, 1937 “Missing Persons Investigation Stymied”

A Federal judge effectively terminated today an investigation into the disappearance of several young men. New York police had requested a broad search warrant, which the judge declined to issue citing sovereignty issues, and the right to question Baroness Esterhoven on her exclusive Caribbean island, which the judge declined to issue without comment.

Allegations that four young males embarked on a ship to the island last spring, never to be seen again, have been pressed by distant relatives. Authorities could find no witnesses to their departure from New York and attorneys for the Baroness have denied that the four young men were among those making the journey.

The Baroness declined to comment, referring reporters to her legal counsel.

“Last spring the Baroness did indeed hire many men to engage in manual labor on her island. The four men in question were not among them. For the New York Police Department to attempt to expand their investigatory powers to a foreign country is a violation of international law,” argued Margaret Dowd, the eminent attorney for the Baroness.

Time, June 23, 1970 “A New Queen”

The Esterhoven dynasty continues with the birth of a daughter to Sir Reginald(grandson of the Baron and his wife) and Lady Jane Esterhoven. The arrival of the daughter, Constance, was celebrated with the announcement that the secluded family island near Aruba would be renamed in the daughter’s honor.

But it’s not just an island. It’s actually a small country, which by Sir Reginald’s decree will henceforth be called ‘Constancia’. By his action, there is no doubt that Sir Reginald is anointing his new born as its future Queen and ruler.

The resources of the Esterhoven family, substantially reinvigorated by Sir Reginald, are reportedly vast, with the peculiar island nation as the only remaining symbol of the old-world wealth. Sir Reginald capably realigned all other family holdings into a new-world investment power, with controlling interests in several fast growing industries including energy, drugs and electronics.

So the new Queen will have no shortage of monetary resources.

Chapter Two

My flight is announced. I carefully fold the articles and place them in my bag. The flight to Aruba is long but I intend to sleep.

As I wait to board, my mind reviews the island’s chronology. It is interesting that the age-old family of Lady Constance has been tinged with scandal and innuendo for so many years. Proposed horse breeding in the searing heat of the tropics, secretive construction, recruitment of Bagandan women, missing young men..., suddenly my thoughts jump! The Bagandas!

A cloudy portion of my memory begins to clear. Research from my masters’ thesis comes into focus. The African tribe is recalled.

The Bagandas were noted for stretching various parts of their anatomy. On females it was most common to stretch the inner labia since large, exposed lips were considered symbolic of a very highly sexed woman. On inferior males it was common to stretch the scrotal sac. A very long, low hanging scrotal sac was deemed humiliating, and recalcitrant tribe members were thus altered.

This tradition of stretching expanded over the centuries and the tribe developed exotic lotions and methods for slowly and systematically stretching the skin of nubile daughters so they could attract the best husbands and of young males to emasculate for behavior modification purposes. The sophisticated knowledge acquired by the Baganda, which remains as a tribal secret to this day, lies in stretching the flesh in such a manner so that no scar tissue forms, which would tend to desensitize and deform the stretched area. Thus, if the labia are stretched too far too fast, the female loses sensitivity and a degree of sexual desire. In the male, an abbreviated stretching process causes scarring, which would detract from the desired sensual view of smooth, pink flesh.

Another unusual facet of the Bagandan culture was their relationship with neighboring villages. Whereas the history of Africa is replete with countless wars and battles among bordering African cultures, the Bagandas were for the most part peaceful. There was little motivation to expand their territory, but when attacked, they were noted for their most brutal retaliations.

But what particularly demotivated opposing warriors was the treatment of prisoners by the Baganda. The possibility of being captured by the Baganda made potential attackers very reluctant to proceed, and eventually no opposing leader could muster the needed warriors to stage an attack. For it was well known that all prisoners were turned over to the Bagandan women, who, it was suggested by numerous accounts, practiced their stretching skills with zeal and without mercy. Also over the years, the younger women were trained by their elders to have a complete disdain for non-Bagandan males, which became ingrained into their psyche. I recalled reading descriptions provided by nineteenth century explorers who when encountering the tribal village deep in the African jungle, observed captured natives being treated as beasts of burden by the Bagandan women, pulling carts and plows, with various anatomical parts modified not only for amusement, but to facilitate restraint.

It is interesting that in the Time magazine article describing the Baroness’s African hiring excursion there was no mention of the curious skill of the Bagandan women, nor their attitude toward males.

My thoughts are interrupted by a search for my airplane seat and making myself comfortable. I find myself somnolent within minutes after reclining. But as I sleep, for some reason the reference to Dr. Emily Reinhold stirs my subconscious.

Chapter Three

It seems that within minutes a flight attendant awakens me with instructions to prepare for landing in Aruba. The plane is scheduled to land at 11:00 p.m. local time. The six-hour time difference with Berlin will require me to acclimate myself to the time and I welcome the night’s stay at a local hotel.

Tomorrow, a small boat will take me to Constancia Island.

Dr. Reinhold! My mind jumps as I exit the plane. The name should have come to memory before, but I did not associate the 1930's New York Times article with the infamous doctor.

She must have been very young at the time of the article. For her name is forever associated with a 1960's New York scandal. Dr. Reinhold received much press as a result of performing sex change operations in an era when such alterations were little known. What prompted the coverage was the revelation that certain ‘males’ were appearing dressed as women for their army induction physical. Since the Vietnam War was flaring, many inductees attempted to avoid induction by utilizing a variety of subterfuges such as feigning deafness, injuries, poor eyesight, etc.

Thus, a young male appearing before the medical examiners in fine feminine attire, shoulder length hair and make up was considered to be attempting to avoid the draft. But one can imagine the reaction of the doctors when the candidate stripped and in place of a fine set of genitals they found instead a newly crafted gash, courtesy of Dr. Reinhold’s scalpel.

The army doctors were alarmed and a subsequent thorough investigation into Dr. Reinhold’s practice by various government bureaucracies revealed other unorthodox procedures. Much was left unreported by newspapers, but in official reports I recall references to Dr. Emily’s assistance not only to New York’s gay community but also to certain cabal’s involved in D/s and BDSM activities. It was disclosed that her medical training was used to abet (if not supervise) such unusual practices as extreme piercings, body modifications, infibulations, induced lactation, forced chastity, human transformation to animals such as ponies and dogs. And it was suggested, though not concluded, that many of Dr. Reinhold’s ‘patients’ did not fully consent to the procedures.

One could imagine, after reading the report, an unsuspecting, anesthetized patient returning to consciousness in Dr. Reinhold’s office and finding his genitals pierced and locked into a position prohibiting intercourse, with his smiling new owner standing nearby mockingly displaying a small key. Or discovering that after three months of taking the good Doctor’s prescribed medication, male breasts became oddly effeminate with perky nipples producing a cloudy liquid when sensuously kneaded by the soft, knowing fingers of a Dominant female.

The word within the medical community was that, rather then cause further scandal, Dr. Reinhold agreed, in her early sixties, to retire, and the final reports were thus quietly filed with little notoriety. She was not heard from again, as far as I was aware.

My luggage is retrieved. With the late hour and a paucity of traffic, a cab quickly transports me to a nearby hotel. I check into my room.

Chapter Four

A boring pay per view movie drags me down a long path toward renewed sleep. But the rising sun finds me waking to a television screen with a message enticing me to select another cinematic nightmare. I decline and relieve myself of the annoyance with a push of a button.

The phone rings. It quickly becomes apparent that I have overslept and the driver for my car ride to Lady Constance’s waiting boat has been imbibing coffee in the hotel lobby for 20 minutes.

I hurriedly shower, pack and scurry to the lobby. There, a very large native male greets me in a manner conducive to all I have met in the employ of the domineering Lady Constance. He bows and humbly rushes to take my luggage.

The ride is short and I am surprised when, instead of going to the island’s main marina, we veer onto a narrow road engulfed by tropical greenery. A casual passerby would overlook it as a pathway to a squalid native hut, but when we traverse a bend a guardhouse indicates otherwise. There is also a formidable fence, topped with strands of viciously sharp razor wire, which also serves to further suggest something other than squalor.

A huge guard, machine pistol in hand, nods to our driver and an automatic gate slides open. The auto eases forward and within a hundred yards or so the ocean comes into view, along with a long pier and several cinder block structures. The car stops in front of the furthest building. A door opens in response to the sound of the car. A very tall black woman steps into the Caribbean sunlight. It is Jasmine, the nurse and trainer for Lady Constance’s toy submissive, Boy.

She is casually attired. Normally, she is wearing her starched white uniform, but this morning a colorful sarong is wrapped about her muscular physique, making her appear as a native.

“Good morning, Doctor. I have signaled for the boat waiting off shore. It will be here in minutes. We try to minimize activity here during the day. Please come inside and wait.”

The driver hurriedly carries my luggage into the simple block building. On his way out he falls to his knees, reaches for Jasmine’s hand and obsequiously kisses it. He arises and closes the door after him.

My eyes slowly become accustomed to the lack of light. It is a magnificently accoutered room with a distinguished antique bar, heavy oak tables, large chairs, comfortable couches and thick dark wood paneling. It is an interesting juxtaposition to the stark, cinder block outer walls. There are no windows and a small crack under the exit door emits sunlight, which appears dazzlingly bright.

“We are equipped here for lengthy stays, should there be a sudden storm or other cause for delay. There is a bathroom should you need it and a small kitchen if you’d like coffee or refreshments.

“The other buildings are for supplies awaiting transfer to Constancia and of course holding pens for new arrivals.”

Although Jasmine is smiling, her description of the diabolical manner in which new males are stored for transport to the island is chilling. Treated more as cargo than human, I recall the coffin like boxes at the clinic, which I visited the day before. Comfortable but confining they provide an ineluctable chamber for the transportation of the human form.

Jasmine moves to the kitchen and returns with a pot of coffee and two cups. She pours and talks.

“You’d be amazed at how this little enclave bustles on some nights. The supply boat is only loaded in darkness and of course new recruits embark here. We release them from their travel box a day or so before moving them to the island. The sedatives wear off, we cut off the control rings and it’s easier if they get on and off the boat under their own power. Well secured wrists and a nice long whip ensures thorough compliance.”

Jasmine smiles broadly with the thought of herding like cattle the naked forms of young males.

We sip the hot brew in silence. I inquire about Boy.

“He’s very good, thank you, Doctor. Lady Constance decided to leave him in New York for this trip. The hotel has a deliciously devious sensory deprivation chamber. When we return he’ll be particularly eager to serve.”

The thought of the effeminate lad squirreled away in the hotel basement, lying in a dark room and/or floating in a deprivation tank, is provocative.

“But not to worry, Doctor. He’s in the care of a particularly dominant young specialist. A Russian woman thoroughly trained by the KGB in mind control. I suspect she’ll let him see daylight on occasion. She’s working to extend the ability of females to have control over his tumescence. You know Lady Constance likes to have him erect for lengthy periods. We understand the specialist has a very successful record of opening up to the influence of dominant females that portion of the submissive brain affecting the penis. I get goose bumps thinking about the results.”

The sound of a horn signals Jasmine that the boat is nearby. She suggests that it is time and returns the pot and cups to the kitchen. I stand and begin to pick up my travel cases.

“Those will be taken care of, Doctor. No guest lifts a hand on Constancia. Lady Constance insists.”

Jasmine opens the door and the bright sunlight is blinding. When my eyes adjust I can see the sleek shape of a very fast boat approaching the pier. It docks and a black woman steps off and waves. In her left hand is a small whip. She is dressed in a colorful sarong like Jasmine’s.

Jasmine returns the wave and steps onto the hardened crushed coral surface serving as the parking area for the buildings. I follow and we proceed to the pier.

“It’s Motamba. She runs the main house.”

Two naked Caucasian males appear from the cabin area of the boat. Motamba turns her head, barks a command and cracks her whip. The two instantly jump unto the pier, tie up the lines and run toward us. They are both totally naked but for various ornaments which glint in the sunlight.

“House boys,” Jasmine explains. “Tightly banded, to the point of essentially being eunuchs. But their oral skills are renowned amongst Lady Constance’s guests.”

I remain confused about the reference to ‘banding’, a procedure mentioned during my visit to the clinic in Germany. But I remain silent and observe. I am sure I will learn more over time.

As the naked males approach running at full pace, I notice their steps are somewhat awkward and when my eyes move downward I notice that their testicles are prominently displayed but remain somewhat motionless despite the hurried steps. Their flaccid penises swing to and fro and bands of metal encircle the shafts of pink flesh near the tip.

They rush past us and I turn to watch the well-formed buttocks strain to propel their young bodies up the slight incline to the building we have just left. Apparently, it is a race as Jasmine’s comments indicate.

“The loser will experience Motamba’s wrath. During daylight it is not good to delay the boat’s departure, therefore she encourages haste.”

We reach the boat and board. I look back to see one lad running at a good pace with my lighter bag. The other has been burdened with my heavy bag and will obviously be the loser as he struggles to run with it back to the pier.

With the house boys freely running about it becomes evident to me that the high fence surrounding the enclave serves two purposes: not only keeping the curious out but the servile bonded males in. Their freedom to move about being aberrant to any conduct I had observed among other charges under Lady Constance’s tutelage.

I visually examine the young male bearing my light bag as he joins us on the boat. He appears to be in his late teens, but I know from experience that smooth, depilated skin such as his can be deceptive in attempting to judge age. He is short in stature. The top of his head is at the height of Jasmine’s shoulder. His nipples are curiously pierced in a manner, which I have not before seen. Each nipple is exposed but completely surrounded by a circular metal shield, resembling a badge. It is obvious that this badge is attached to his chest by way of at least one and possibly two deep pins connected to one side of the metallic shield, penetrating under the sensitive nipple then connecting to the opposite circumference. The badge has eight points ending in small eyelets. The areolas are puffy, soft and quite effeminate in appearance. They remind me somewhat of Boy’s, where chastity and hormones transformed the organs into delightfully sensitive nubs, reacting to Lady Constance’s touch by obediently crinkling and standing in salute.

He stows my bag in the cabin and returns. Motamba snaps her fingers and he instantly places his hands on his head and stands with feet apart. His pose is well practiced and his stillness enables me to further inspect.

My gaze moves downward. A flaccid penis of larger than average length freely flops about, the steel band seeming to exaggerate its movements. His skin is pierced at each hip with what can only be described as rivets. It appears that a pinch of skin was gathered and several layers of epidermis penetrated by a small circular piece of steel the size of a coin. This metal disk is open in the middle and cords appearing to be elastic, run from these hip rivets to his scrotum. There, the pink bag is ringed by two moderately gauged bands of steel around the top of each testicle. The cords are secured to the scrotum bands serving to pull the testicles forward and apart. Jasmine notices my observation.

“Interesting, is it not, Doctor? The island is staffed with descendants of a certain African tribe, which is noted for body modifications. Lady Constance insists they be free to practice their skills. Their practices have modernized somewhat with the aid of a device that embeds metal rivets into the skin. The rivets are much less susceptible to tearing as with simple piercings.

“This is a typical configuration designed to best display and control the testicles. Each testicle band is sized to perfectly slip over the gonad with moderate pressure and is serrated on the inside to hinder attempts to slip it off. The cords pull the sac forward and separate the testicles for better viewing.

“Turn and bend.”

The naked youth obeys and his plump but muscular backside is displayed. Two more cords come to view.

“These serve to stretch and hold the sac while walking and running.”