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The Captain stood on the terrace as the morning sun came over the valley side, The sheer beauty of the place still overwhelmed him. The stark but bright green hills surrowded the old country house and all of the outhouses and walled garden. There were times when he was almost tempted to find out more about the history of this place. Built in the 1850s it was a country estate of some Lord or other but all he was aware of that the Yanks took it over during the second world war for officers quarters and training, The British Army carried on using its isolated location for wild country training for many years, before it became briefly an outdoor persuits centre.
When Quality Secure Systems inc. bought the place 10 years back there was lots of local opposition but good wages and the buying slowly of all the local property for staff quarters had made all that fizzle out.
It was now the perfect set up totally isolated and secure and he had complete control of all he could see and hed made very good use of it but now he could go much further!
Morgan reached into his combats and pulled out his hip flask. He took a swig and then raised the flask to the morning sun .”God Bless the Yanks and the White Slave Act” was his early toast to the day.
He cast his eyes to the two blocks where his 112 unsuspecting prisoners were about to find out how the power of the European Directive would be changing their lives forever. As he moved off the terrace he reminded himself that the ukranian bitch on B duties would get 30 lashes for being such a poor cock sucker
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