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Laney watched his movements feeling numbed by the shocking turns this day had taken. Alex was at the doorway. She could let him go and forget everything that had been discussed that day. She could let the fisherman take her back to port, so he could get back to his fish and she to the hard rule of law. The irony of the moment suddenly forced her reply:
“Alex! Wait!” she called to him in sudden and unexpected desperation. He turned, but just briefly. “Please!”
He stopped, waiting on demand, but not happily.
“You’re right. About everything. I am a powder keg. I’m obsessed with punishment. The thought of pain thrills me. The fear of never again feeling the sting of a master’s order leave me breathless, or a master’s whip cut into my flesh, or having a master use me like a toy—I can’t live with that… That fear brought me here.” Two fat tears ran down her cheeks. “Yes, punish me, Alex. Please! Do with me what you will. You may not bear the Marquis’ mark, but…oh, but let’s pretend you do.”
Like Laney the lawyer, there was not even the slightest quavering in her voice as she begged the fisherman.
A testy quiet followed as the two stared each other down, then the knapsack that he’d flung over o
ne shoulder slipped off Alex’s arm and fell to the floor with a gentle thud.
“Prove it, Laney, show me what you want.”
Show him? How? Her mind searched quickly for an answer while her eyes darted around the room and finally rested on the leather that Alex had pulled from the cabinet and left lying on the back of one couch. She lowered herself in spirit as she remembered the past, remembered Erik, and the stranger on the cruise ship, the wussy exec in Erik’s office, and, of course, her days here on Marquis Island. Knowing what she had to do, she moved toward the discarded leather strap, picked it up and walked to the waiting Alex Greenwood, whose eyes still smoldered, whose attitude was smug, whose clear reading of her had brought them to this moment.
“Here,” she said, almost defiantly, “you want to punish me, then do it.”
He snickered, as he swiped the leather from her hand and moved into the great room beyond, where a breeze off the ocean was cooling the air.
“So, come here, Ms. Priestly. We’ll pretend I’m the master and you’re my slave.”
Chapter Four
“Take off your clothes,” he started simply after settling into a chair.
She waited, suddenly stunned by the very idea of what she had agreed to, these cool, crisp words from another stranger…more demands, and any resistance melted. Her heart was beating hard, her pussy raw with want, and she could foresee in her mind’s eye becoming the servile slut she’d once been trained to be.
If there had been music, she would have done a raunchy striptease before the fisherman’s lewdly gazing eyes. But she had just the breeze, the noise of a few cawing gulls and buzzing insects, and her feral physical excitement as a backdrop for disrobing. Alex Greenwood turned back into a stranger as he stared at her, into the fisherman she’d just met. She obeyed the order because in her mind, she was bound by the bracelet to obey his command, and because for now she was pretending that he’d been sent by the Marquis to punish her. This was what she wanted, and perhaps had secretly hoped for when her quest began.
Not taking her eyes from the fisherman’s for even a second, Laney nervously began to remove her clothes. Her breath was short, her emotions aching, her crotch liquid with expectation. She unbuttoned her sleeveless blouse and let it fly off her fingers to the floor, seeing Alex’s eyes immediately move to her chest and rest on her fragrant flesh cupped by her lacy black bra. Without thinking through her next move, she undid the catch at the waist of her shorts and unzipped them, letting them drop to her feet, where she kicked them aside. She stood before the master now, clothed only in her bra and a pair of black thong panties—an offending pair of panties for a woman who’d once vowed never to wear anything that would cover her crotch. Despite this flagrant act of disobedience, Laney Priestly in bra and panties would be a seductive sight to any man’s eyes. Her lean body and tawny skin glowed with a layer of perspiration that highlighted the lovely form. Her thighs were firm and muscled, her belly taut, and from underneath the thin thong, a hint of her trimmed black pubic hair invited Alex’s eye.
When a gust of air swept the room, the half-dressed Laney chilled, the feeling of it moving up her spine in a tingling, thrilling wave. She wondered what the fisherman thought of her as he inspected her body, but she could not get inside his mind; he was as inscrutable as the other masters she’d known, as inscrutable as her own husband had been in a moment like this one.
Alex Greenwood was hardly as inscrutable as Laney believed, but like many women, she encouraged the romance of uncertainty for the way it fed her own arousal. Aloof, his emotions in check, Alex coolly surveyed Laney’s luscious body, taking in the allure of her curvaceous figure with great interest. She was his to use. Freely given. With normal societal restraints removed, his body reacted to the sight of her, growing agitated, his crotch heating, his cock beginning to throb. Ideas of how he’d fuck her began to form in his mind. He imagined what he’d do to her hungering flesh, what havoc he would wreak. This wretched island never failed to encourage his kinky appetites.
He knew when they first met that he’d be pleased to fuck the sultry beauty; although never did he expect this opportunity to arise—and so swiftly. She was just a neat $500 dollar afternoon. And now this! If he were not careful, his own savage desires might get the better of him, he had to play the game slowly, milk the experience for everything he could get. He knew that Laney Priestly wasn’t just the average hot looking female looking for good times.
Laney waited for some time for the fisherman to comment. She was afraid to go on without a signal from him. When he finally spoke, saying simply, “Your bra, Laney,” his voice shook her drowsy mind awake and made her blush. He was still a stranger and very strange to her. Unknown. Unfathomable. His eyes sharp and penetrating. How could he know so much about the Marquis without being a master himself? Was he as hidden as she’d tried to be? she wondered as she reached back and, bowing her head demurely, unhooked the bra to let her breasts fall free and the underwear scatter on the floor with the rest of her clothes. As the warm air danced about her unfettered chest, her nipples became taut, hard and firm as bullets signaling her palpable arousal.
“Pinch them,” he said. He’d slunk deeper in the chair, his elbows resting on the arms and his legs widespread, so that if she looked at his crotch, she might have noticed his awakened penis turning into a pulsing weapon.
At that moment, Laney was too engaged by her own physical response to make eye contact with his specific body parts—especially his feral eyes and his heated groin. She was no longer the confident attorney, the liberated female, instead, she felt embarrassed and bashful, self-conscious and coy. The glaring exposure shamed her, while the threat of his cool command held her firmly within his grasp.
As he delivered his order, to ‘pinch them,’ she obeyed without hesitation, allowing the small pain that followed to raise her physical heat another degree higher, mounting feverishly as she lewdly stretched them for him. With the sweltering pleasure building, her breathing became more labored and she closed her eyes. The heat in her groin became volcanic, edgy, irascible, so hard to contain. She squirmed reflexively, zealously longing for his hands to comb her flushed skin, for his fingers to playfully tease the folds of her sex, for his cock to spring from his pants and beg her mouth to dine. She pressed her nubs harder still, immersed in the pain that followed and desiring more. She pinched them even harder, hoping this would please him, though he’d still not said a word.
“Open your eyes, Laney,” she finally heard him speak, in a voice that made her bristle with expectation. She did as ordered and let her eyes come to rest on his passive face, her body chilling as she connected with his pokerfaced cool. Silent, observant, he watched her body’s seductive movements, giving her no clue to his own response, even though it was very obvious to him. Yes, his impenetrable cool almost plunged her into a convulsive climax.
“Go get the leather for me, Laney,” Alex finally said. His voice leapt out and grabbed her back from the breathless euphoria of her exhibition. She started to move, but he stopped her before she’d gone two feet. “With your teeth,” he said, “and on your knees, crawling.”
The leather lash from the library cabinet was on a chair in the other room, maybe twenty feet from where she stood. Dropping to her knees, she crawled catlike from the living room to the library, still flushed with arousal and not missing a beat of her erotic rhythm. She retrieved the lash by grabbing it with her teeth and then returned to present it to the waiting Alex.
Taking the lash from her mouth, he eyed her so tenaciously that she was certain he would order her over his lap and punish her immediately. Her wait would be over then, the pain would follow, and the uproar in his body finally see its end, as she climaxed from blows that would send her into submissive subspace. She waited with lips parted, her tummy churning with mounting excitement, but was taken completely off guard when he made a new demand.
“There are ropes and chains in that same cabinet where I found this,” he held up the lash. “Go get them for me, Laney,” then he added just so she was sure, “with your teeth.”
She was frustrated at being forced to wait, and yet, without displaying any distress, she padded off on hands and knees to the other room. Although her poor knees were already scratched and bruised from the hardwood floor, she moved rapidly, the pain no longer mattering, finding the cabinet beneath the bookcase. It proved impossible to open it with her teeth, so she used her hands instead, and found inside amongst a number of kinky items, a length of coiled rope and a burlap sack with heavy chains inside. With her teeth? she wondered silently, as she realized how difficult this task would be. She mouthed at the rope and finally gripped it with her teeth; then with that alone, she set off for the next room. The lengthy hemp rope unfurled as she crawled, trailing behind her like a tail.
