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“As I recall, Sandra,” Laney said, “you and Elise were both quick to write the experience off when I brought it up a few months after we got back.”
“Well, that was a stupid thing to do,” Sandra said flatly. “Although maybe that day, it wasn’t stampeding through my mind. But it has often enough since.”
“Really? Like how often?” Laney asked.
“Often enough that we shouldn’t be sweeping it under the rug like that vacation from hell didn’t exist.”
“You thought it was hell?” Laney probed.
Sandra waited to answer, then shrugged. “Depends on my mood.”
“And what has made your mood so dour today?” Elise asked.
Sandra’s tone changed. Her blue eyes danced with amusement and her lips formed a pouty smirk. She made them wait, their anticipation turning the thick, fragrant air electric.
“I saw Essex yesterday.”
“What!” Laney leaned forward, while Elise’s eyes shot open.
Sandra sat back and smiled smugly, her fleshy body seemed to jiggle with satisfaction. Now she had their attention. She stared directly at Elise, whose eyes still shone with agitated fear.
“You remember, don’t you?” Sandra said. “He enslaved you, Elise, the way Darius enslaved me and that nasty Mistress Gina turned Laney’s world on end.”
Elise appeared to shake off her alarm. “Of course, I remember him, Sandra,” Elise spoke ardently in an attempt to placate her troubled friend. Of course, she remembered Essex, the proper gentleman, the sadist, the master who bound her to a rack, beat her body raw and fist-fucked her ass to an orgasm she could never drive from her thoughts. Essex, who with Master Darius had branded all three women as properties, as slaves forever in the world of Marquis Island. “And you’ve seen him?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen?” Elise was now all ears. Her heart was feverishly thumping, and her pussy clenched and moistened…just the sound of Essex’ name…
Laney seemed hardly surprised at all that the man would reappear in the world of their real lives. In fact, she was surprised that this hadn’t happened sooner.
“You remember, Elise,” Sandra spoke, “when you said you wanted to have a tattoo added to your brand, something to disguise it?”
“I never did,” Elise said.
“Well, I tr
ied to. I went to three tattoo artists. The first acted like he was scared of it, the second man just shook his head and said he didn’t do that kind of work, the third recognized the style of brand. He touched it admiringly and said something like, ‘This is a slave brand, isn’t it?’ The look in my eyes must have given me away because I know I didn’t answer him. Then he said, ‘You don’t tamper with a brand like this.’ I was spooked. I finally blurted out something stupid like, ‘How do you know that?’ His twisted smile made me want to run for cover. Like any minute I’d have whips and floggers raining terror down on me. I was so horny, I could hardly stand myself. In fact, I masturbated as soon as I got back in my car. Right in the parking lot behind the tattoo parlor, next to that old surplus store on 8th St.. I didn’t care if the neighborhood drunks were staring at me.”
“My god,” Laney gasped quietly. “When did this happen?”
“Year and a half ago, after we had that little get-together.”
“And Essex?” Elise’s questioning brought their attention back to the man. She had to know more, as the memory of this master emerged from the sanctuary of her deepest memories where it lay lurking like a haunting dream.
“He came to me about six, maybe eight months, after I tried to have the brand altered. I have no idea if the two incidents were somehow connected; I never asked. I was sitting at that little sidewalk café by the new city center building, you know the one that changed hands a couple of months ago… Boogey’s, Bogarts… something like that…” Sandra looked at Elise’ and Laney’s shining faces, sensing their curiosity and feeling the intense passion behind their interest. The fire kept roaring back to life, then dying away to embers. It seemed like a night for ghost stories and spine-chilling memories; and they were only just getting started. “I was drinking coffee, thinking about the customer I’d just interviewed for a remodel of her kitchen, suddenly a man sits down beside me. I turn and see Essex, as straight as an arrow, as straight and formal as I remember him.” Sandra stared at Elise. “I couldn’t help but think of you.”
“Did he mention me?” Elise asked.
“No. He said he thought I might need him. That he was in town from time to time. By then, my eyes were bugged out and my heart had jumped into my throat and was banging about like a raging bear. I was almost sick to my stomach. But I sat perfectly still as if he’d ordered me to. He reached for my hand and covered it for a moment, then he ran one finger along the back, tracing a line up my arm. I was weak from trembling. I had this really strange feeling that what had happened on the island had not ended there, but had just gone on and I was trapped, a trapped slave, caught in the web of those men and women.” Sandra’s voice was terrified and very quiet, and her eyes had a faraway look as she dwelt on her recollection. Then she suddenly snapped-to, locking on to Laney first, who jumped back a bit, then Elise, who simply stared remotely.
“You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you?” Laney said.
“Four times now. I went home that first day and told Jason. I thought sure he would think I was nuts and tell me no way was his wife going to submit to another man, even if it was Essex. Instead, he looked at me really strangely and said, that yeah, maybe I should see him. I should let him have his way with me. ‘Are you serious,’ I exploded on him. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You can’t deny what happened, Sandra. You were hot, really fucking hot. You go see him, and you bring that heat home to me.’”
“Jason actually said that?” the dumbfounded Elise gasped.
“Yes, he did.”
