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“Move away,” Erik ordered.
Nothing in Laney could argue now. Having settled into a fuzzy vacuum, everything blurred around her except the sensation in her body, and the feel of the whip that teased her. She hardly realized that Jason had removed the gag.
Starting slowly, Erik worked her with a gradually increasing intensity, although Laney had no idea how vilely he struck her pussy. With her torso slumped to the floor, she raised her ass end exceedingly high without one order given.
It was all in the snap of his wrist and the way he anticipated the mounting stimulation, and the way Laney’s body accepted pain as something more than pain. The talons bit, but there was little sting left. Even harsh snaps of the ‘dancer’ caused her to groan with pleasure. Then there was a release when everything let go. Erik was in her pussy with his cock getting off, which was all Laney needed to bring her body to a thousand edges of physical delight.
In the corner of the room, Sandra was taking Jason’s cock in her mouth and nearby Elise and Matthew lay on a chaise watching. The whip that had defined their morning’s exercises in sexual aberration was now in Matthew’s hand—where an hour ago the session began. There was no need to evaluate their acts with words, or devise some justification for these indecencies. Their passion spoke loudly and could not be improved by trying to find a larger meaning for these primitive appetites.
Chapter Five
Midday, afternoon and evening following the session in the library drifted aimlessly. The half-dozen stranded on Marquis Island seemed lost to its world. Curiously, after several days of gloom, the sun broke through the clouds warming the tiny island the way the tropics should be warmed by a tropical sun. Returned to its more natural pleasantness, the island beckoned its guests outside with gentle breezes and a good-natured smile in the branches of the hovering palms. Delighted by the change of weather, the party moved happily into the fresh air.
While the three slaves remained collared and naked, it didn’t seem to matter as much with blue sky overhead and the heat to dry the dampness from their bones. Two days before, Marquis’ long stretch of white sandy beach had eluded them. Having found it now, a bit of normalcy seemed to return in their attitudes, even if their challenging attire would constantly remind both slaves and masters that they were in the middle of an ominous game of love and lust.
Revived from the languid aftermath of sexual extremes, they played Frisbee on the beach, snorkeled, swam and sunbathed as they might have on that other island paradise—where their journey should have taken them. For dinner, they ate hamburgers grilled on an outside barbecue. And when the sun became too hot, the men strung hammocks under the trees with their happy slaves serving them lemonade and cookies. (They weren’t homemade cookies though they were a taste of home in this unreal world.)
When Archibald Devane strolled unexpectedly into their midst, they were instantly stunned, like children discovered with candy on their messy faces.
“It was only a matter of time,” he assured them as he gazed contentedly about the scene.
“How so?” Jason asked, recouping quickly. “This sort of thing happen before on Marquis? Your female guests turn into sluts, the men into brutal masters?” He said this without passing judgment on the facts, since they’d accepted the state of things. It was, however, a matter of curiosity considering how swiftly they had cast off proprieties ingrained in their right-minded psyches.
“I warned you the first night of your visit that this place has uncommon properties.”
“And that sounded vague and mystical,” Jason retorted.
“I was speaking the truth. Just look at you now.” He viewed Sandra, Laney and Elise as proof of what he said. And the three, as though chagrinned and uncertain of Archibald’s purpose, were on their knees, heads bowed, waiting for some further instruction from their masters.
“Christian Barth’s little black book seemed to strike a chord with our wives,” Erik jumped in. “And, since we’re in a secluded locale, we have both the time and the inspiration to play with our fantasies. Nonetheless, we still need to get off this island, and do hope you’ve been trying your radio for some assistance.”
“Yes. That is exactly why I came to see you. I believe I have the answer to your dilemma, Mr. Priestly. There will be a first-rate boat mechanic arriving to service my skiff at the end of the week. He’ll be happy to look at your engine as well.”
Erik scowled. “I don’t need a first rate boat mechanic. We have two topnotch mechanics right here. We need parts for the damaged engine.”
“I’m sure Terry Childs will be traveling with everything you need to
make the repairs,” Devane returned.
Erik wasn’t satisfied, but he gave up forcing the issue. Perhaps the day was too mild, the air too sweet with the scent of flowers, and the mood too mellow to let his impatience take shape.
“You might find, Mr. Priestly, that there are other reasons to look forward to my friend’s arrival.”
“And what would they be?”
Devane smiled, looked at the women and spoke, “Perhaps we should discuss them in private?” He then motioned the three men to the veranda where their conversation could not be overheard.
After a brief conference with Erik, Jason and Matthew, Devane left, the slaves resumed their attentive service to their masters, and the mood turned erotic.
The shadows on the island were lengthening and the scent of night began to blow through the trees. Inspired by the sultry mood, Matthew took Elise into a thicket of shore grass and screwed her from behind with the spear of his cock driving a deep pathway in her cunt. Yards away, Jason pushed his fiancée against the striated bark of a date palm, squashing her big breasts so the already marred flesh was scratched more. In this position, he lifted her ass cock height and stung her with the head of his erection breaching her pussy’s doorway.
Further down the beach, Erik bound Laney’s arms and legs with seaweed, and attached them to driftwood stakes he pounded into the sand. It was an uneasy binding; one Laney could rip apart with a good tug of her limbs. But it was the meaning of it that mattered. Erik wanted her immobile when he fucked her, her body focusing on complete acceptance of his power over her thoughts and substance. Giving back to him what he wanted, she yielded to the force of his cock as he finished off another climax and then led her back to the house.
As slaves, the three expected they would sleep at the foot of their master’s bed that night, just as they had before. Each settled in to the mats that had been prepared for them, slightly fearful of the rope that bound their collars tightly to the bedposts.
Laney wanted sleep. She could feel it coming to her like a friend, reaching its hand to draw her in so that her battered mind might repair overnight the little damages of the day. At the very least, her dreams might set the world aright again or give what small piece that still resisted some explanation for her behavior. She wanted sleep, but part of her continued to push it aside.
“Erik,” she whispered into the silence. How lovely that the rain and wind had finally stopped. How quiet! What tranquility! Erik heard her hushed voice clearly.
