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Miranda began to scream. Vince sighed and shook his head.
"It's a waste of effort, darling. No one can hear you. We're on a private island, surrounded by miles and miles of ocean. You'll only scream yourself hoarse and anger me in the process."
"Me, too," Joey said. "Jeez, Vince, she's hurtin' my ears."
"Do you hear that, Miranda? Do you want to hurt Joey's ears? Stop that noise at once or I'll be forced to let him stuff another rag down your throat."
He meant it, she knew. The thought of being gagged again was more than she could bear. Miranda clamped her teeth into her bottom lip. Her screams died away and became a soft, keening whimper.
"Good girl. Now, Joey, there's a closet in that wall, do you see the outline of the door just in back of that mirror? You'll find some silk scarves inside. Pick some pretty ones. What colors do you like, Miranda? Pink? Blue? Well, you choose them, Joey, one for each wrist and each ankle, and bring them here. Get on the bed, darling."
"Vince," she said, her voice quavering, "Vince, please..."
"Didn't you hear me, Miranda? Step up on the platform."
He started towards her. Quickly, she scrambled backwards, up the two steps on the platform.
"Now, lie down."
"No! No, don't..."
Vince shoved her, hard. She fell onto the bed and he moved quickly, sat down beside her and grasped her wrists while Joey trotted over with four silk scarves.
"Excellent," Vince said. "Take her hands. That's it. Tie them to the posts at the corners of the bed. Very good, Joey. Now her ankles..."
The men worked quickly and efficiently. When they were done, Miranda lay weeping and sobbing with fear, half-naked and spread-eagled before them.
"There," Vince said, standing back and looking down, "that's fine."
"Perfect," Joey said. He grinned, reached down and ran his knuckles over her breasts.
"Now. Joey," Vince said sternly, "what did I tell you?"
"Come on, Vince. We got her all to ourselves for, what, another couple of hours?"
"A day, at least. And we have to take good care of her."
Joey chuckled. "I'll take good care of her, you can bet on that."
"Vince," Miranda whispered, "Vince, please, don't let him..."
"I won't, darling, I promise. But he's right about one thing. We do have time hanging heavy on our hands." He smiled, and her breath caught at the sudden cruelty in that smile. "I wouldn't want you to become bored."
"Don't," she said, as he moved towards her. "God, please, don't!"
She cried out as he bent down and opened her jeans. His hand slid under the denim, his fingers stroking her flesh.
"Lovely," he whispered.
"Vince, please, I beg you..."
"She's beggin' you, Vince. How can you turn her down?"
Vince's smile tilted. He put his other hand over his bulging fly.
"Lovely," he said again, and began to rub himself.
A long, terrible wail rose from Miranda's throat.
