tagNonConsent/ReluctanceIsland Slave Ch. 02

Island Slave Ch. 02

bydweaver999©

Chapter Two: Trapped

Carla woke up the next morning alone in the bed. She could feel and smell old sex all around her. She smiled at the memory of how Quinn had taken her with such abandon the night before. Her body remembered as well, in its own way. Her body was sore from its exertions. After lying awake for several minutes, she rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Like the rest of Quinn's mansion, it was elegant. The bath was huge enough to allow one to stretch out in luxury.

She filled the tub, adding a generous portion of jasmine scented bath oil. The water soothed her muscles while cleaning her body. Partway through the soaking, she had a realization. The guilt she had been expecting was not there. It dawned on her that she felt an attachment with Quinn, a bond. It was too bad that she had to go back to the states, her vacation time exhausted. Given time, she was sure she could fall in love with the handsome islander.

After she had dried off, she noticed that the clothes she had stripped off last night were nowhere to be found. Figuring that someone had picked them up to be cleaned, she wrapped the large towel around herself and walked to her own room. She stopped just inside the door, puzzled. Her bags were missing. Pulling open the closet and the drawers in the bureau, she found no trace of clothing anywhere. More disturbing was the one thing she did find in the dresser. Three closable loops of metal, one large and four smaller, with an envelope under them. The presence of her toiletries and makeup meant she was in the correct room, but all her clothes, even her under things, were missing.

Carla was not totally naïve. She recognized the collar and cuffs as fetish wear used by people into bondage games. The envelope had her name on it. Opening it, she found a handwritten note. "Carla, put these on and come to breakfast." Her mouth hung open in shock. "Surely this is some sort of joke," she thought to herself.

Towel still wrapped around her, Carla walked back out into the hall, trying to find someone to ask about her things. She found the housekeeper, Bonita, in the library.

"Bonita?"

"Yes, miss Carla?" Bonita seemed nonplussed by Carla's appearance.

"Do you know where my luggage is? I can't find it anywhere in my room."

"Master Quinn has put them away."

"Put them away? Where?"

"You'll have to ask Master Quinn, miss."

"Where is Mr. Quinn?"

"I believe he is in his study."

The pleasant feelings of the morning were quickly being replaced by anger. "Just what kind of stunt is Quinn pulling," Carla thought to herself. "Hiding my things is not the action of a mature adult." She found the study and barged right in.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Quinn?" she demanded as she crossed the room.

"Carla. Good morning."

"Don't 'good morning' me. Where are my clothes?"

Ignoring her question, Quinn stood and brushed the side of her face. "I enjoyed last night. Did you?"

"Last night?" she asked, confused at the nonsequiter. "Yes, I did. Never mind about last night, where are my clothes?"

"I want you to stay here, Carla. Don't go back to your old life"

"Quinn, my vacation is over. I need to go home. I have a job and responsibilities. I can't just decide to spend another day, or week or whatever on a Caribbean island on a whim." Carla's stomach tightened. In a concerned voice, she repeated her question. "Where are my clothes? I need to get dressed so that you can take me to one of the bigger islands. I need to book a flight to Miami."

Quinn shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. "I'm not flying you anywhere. I want you to stay. I want you. I'm not going to let you go."

Carla stood there, dumbstruck. "You took my clothes." Quinn nodded. "That's... that's... Quinn, that's kidnapping. You can't hold me here against my will."

"Actually, yes I can. There's nothing you can do to stop me. You're everything I've ever wanted in a woman. Second chances are so rare, I'm not losing this one. Why haven't you put the collar and cuffs on?"

"Second chance?" she thought to herself. "My God! He's crazy." Out loud, she sputtered, "I'm not putting on those filthy things. Do you mean to say that you're going to hold me against my will and rape me any time you want to get off."

"No," he insisted, shaking his head. "There will be no rape. I will not force myself on you. When we make love, it will be because you asked for it. Until then, you have complete freedom in the house and the plantation grounds. However, you will not be able to eat unless you're wearing the collar and cuffs."

"You're going to starve me?"

"No. I'm simply not going to let you eat until you put them on. You'll put them on before you starve to death."

"Do you really think that I will agree to fuck the man who is holding me prisoner? That will be a cold day in hell. The only way you're screwing this body is if you take me by force. And you'd better tie me up, because I will castrate you by hand if you so much as lay a hand on me!"

"That's your choice. One thing though." Quinn grabbed an end of the towel and yanked on it, pulling it off the startled woman. "I took your clothes away so that you would be naked. You're not to wear any clothes. I may not be able to make love to you, but I can love the look of your body."

"You asshole!" Carla's voice was laden with anger and threat. "You like this body? Well, go ahead, look all you want." She spread her arms out, giving him an unobstructed view of herself. "Look at the body you will never touch again." She did a slow turn, letting his eyes linger over every inch of her body. In a dark corner of her mind, shadowed by the anger that burned within her, was confusion. How could he actually want to look at her? She did not have a 'looker' body.

Once she had completed her pirouette, she stalked off towards her room. When she passed Bonita again, she asked, "Bonita, would you bring me some breakfast in my room?"

"I'm sorry, miss Carla. Master Quinn has ordered that all meals must be eaten in the dining room and that you are not to be served until you are dressed appropriately."

"What?" she yelled. "Do you mean to tell me that I am being forced to walk about where everyone can see me, naked, in slave regalia?"

"No, miss. You can choose to stay in your room as much as you wish. It's just your meals must be in the dining room at the proper times. Other than that, you may stay in your room. You do have a nice body."

Without thinking, Carla corrected Bonita. "No, I don't." Bonita walked away, shaking her head. Carla stood in the hall for a minute, pondering what to do. She decided to try someone else and went to the dining room. The table was bare, but for a table cloth. Peeking into the kitchen, she saw that Juan was cooking breakfast. He looked up at her when the door cracked.

"Miss, Carla. Is there something I can help you with?"

"You could get me my clothes."

"I'm sorry. I don't know where they are. Even if I did, I would not defy Master Quinn." Juan looked at her with subtle pleasure.

Carla blushed at the look. Trying to distract both Juan and herself, she inquired, "Just what does Quinn have over all of you? You're abetting a kidnapping."

"He has nothing over me, miss. I have been the cook for Master Quinn's family for over 40 years. My grandfather was their cook before me. We have worked for Quinn's family for almost 100 years. You must understand, loyalty is a way of life on the islands. I would never betray him."

"Even when what he's doing is so clearly wrong?"

"I'm not so sure it's wrong." When Carla's face showed shock, he asked her, "Tell me, did you like Master Quinn yesterday?"

"Yes. But today changes everything."

"Why? Because he has expressed a desire for you?"

Carla, drawn into the conversation, had stepped fully into the kitchen, seemingly having forgotten her nudity. "I knew he desired me yesterday. It's not the desire that is wrong; it is the way he is forcing me to stay here."

"I think that perhaps you do him a disservice. There is no force here. If you wished it enough, you could leave."

Not deigning to answer such an outrageous claim, she wrote him off as useless. With an exasperated sigh, she asked, "Is there any breakfast?"

"Of course miss. It will be ready in 15 minutes. Make sure you are dressed correctly."

Carla walked back to her room. While she pondered what to do, she took stock of what was left of her things. As she had already determined, all her toiletries and cosmetics were still in her room. She found that all her books were also there, neatly arranged on a shelf in the closet. Of her clothes, nothing. Not even a sock or scrap of panty. Overwhelmed, she collapsed on the bed, tears brimming in her eyes. The knock on her door caused her to make an attempt to compose herself.

"Who is it?"

"It Juan, miss. Breakfast is ready."

"I'm not hungry." Carla refused to put on the accoutrements of a slave.

Carla washed her face, trying to eliminate the evidence of tears. She tried to read, but found that her interest simply wasn't there. She lay, curled up, on the bed until there was a knock on her door again.

"What is it?"

"Miss Carla," Bonita's voice sounded. "Lunch is ready."

"I'm not hungry right now."

"Very well."

The day passed both slowly and quickly. Carla spent the entire day in bed, lost in her anger and fear, her hunger barely noticed. She could not believe that she was here, now, trapped in a mansion, naked, at the mercy of what could only be a madman. She thought of how she might try to escape. Nothing seemed possible. She had seen no phone anywhere in the mansion that she could call for help on. She knew that Quinn had a computer, but had seen no evidence that it had an internet connection. Naked, without shoes, she would never be able to walk the several miles to the village, not through the brambles and sharp rocks that seemed so abundant on the island. The mansion was at the center of the island, making a trip to the coast just as injurious. Quinn had planned well it seemed.

It didn't help that she had come here willingly. Not only had she come willingly, but she had been quite forceful about it with the captain of the ship. It would be at least a week before anyone would start looking for her. Once they did, how could they find her? She had left no trail to follow. A few of the villagers might remember her, but none of them knew that she had come to the mansion to stay, if only for a short while. If they did contact Quinn, he would be able to tell them anything he wanted. He was a respected businessman here.

Dinner passed without Carla joining Quinn at the table. It was only late at night that hunger drove her out of her room. The halls were dark, the only light being that of the moon peeking around corners from the windows. She found that there was a night light on in the dining room and a small fire had been left in the oven. She tried to look in the refrigerator and found it and the pantry locked. A note was on the pantry. It said, "Remember, you must eat in the dining room, on time, in your collar and cuffs." She went back to her room and slept. In spite of her inactivity, she found that she was exhausted. The emotional roller coaster of the day had taken its toll.

By morning, Carla was extremely hungry. She showed up to the breakfast table. When she was not served, she asked, "May I have something to eat?"

Quinn looked up from his plate. "You're not wearing what you are supposed to be wearing. Until you put them on, you will not eat."

Carla slammed her hand against the table, standing as she did so. Ignoring the chair that fell over, she stomped back to her room. She pulled the drawer open and stared at the collar. Part of her didn't want to put it on. It was degrading and humiliating. Putting it on would be to cooperate with her kidnapper. But, she was already trapped. The only thing the collar meant was that she could eat. She picked up the circlets, her heart beating loudly in her ears. She saw that there were key holes on all five. Once she put them on, only Quinn would be able to take them off.

Tears filled her eyes as Carla bowed to the inevitable. The click of the lock on the collar was like the slamming of a prison cell door. The inner surface was lined with a soft material, felt possibly. The same was true of the cuffs. Once they were all on, she found that their weight on her wrists and ankles an ever present reminder of her captivity, even greater than her nudity. She walked back out and sat down again for breakfast, crying as she ate.

For the next week she avoided Quinn as much as possible, joining him only for meals. Except for meals, she stayed in her room, though after brooding for a day or two, she found she was able to read her books again. The only person she had regular contact outside of meals with was Bonita, who brought fresh linen every morning. They spoke little after Carla determined that she was in the same position as Juan, unwilling to even acknowledge that something wrong was going on.

It was in the second week that Carla realized that she was going nuts. Locked up in her room, seeing no one, was driving her batty. She had read every book she had with her, some of them twice. She knew she had to change the way she was coping with her involuntary existence here in the mansion. She went to breakfast as usual. Afterwards, however, she did not return to her room.

Remembering that she had complete freedom to explore the mansion and the grounds, she did just that. Over the past week, Carlos, Bonita and Juan had all seen her naked at each meal. Their reactions were amazingly placid, as if it was commonplace to see a somewhat overweight, naked, collared woman wandering the house. Carla was surprised that she no longer felt much in the way of embarrassment at being seen thus.

That first day, she wandered through the house, paying more attention to the rooms than she did when Quinn gave her his tour the first time. The mansion was deceptively large. In addition to the kitchen, dining room, and the two bedrooms that Carla and Quinn used, there was a large pantry, with enough space to hold three months of food, as near as she could tell. The library was as she remembered, very large and full of books. Three more bedrooms were present, two of them used by Bonita and Juan. Only Carla's and Quinn's had dedicated baths. Quinn's office was adjacent to a large study or sitting room, it was hard to tell for which purpose it was being used.

The most curious feature of the first floor was the two way mirror between the study and the unused bedroom. That fifth bedroom seemed to have a natural glow that prevented it from becoming totally dark. The study was the only room that had no windows to the outside. This meant that when the study was darkened, you could look into the bedroom with ease. Heavy drapes capable of being drawn open covered the study's side of the spying device.

Her second day about the house found her ensconced in the library. Carla loved to read books. In a day when electronic media was increasingly popular, Carla found that she loved the feel of a book in her hand, turning the pages and letting her eyes linger on the print with no threat of computer screen induced eyestrain. The breadth of the literary works to be found in this room was amazing. There were leather bound volumes of many of the classics in English literature, as well as works in Spanish, German and French. One entire wall was given over to romance novels, both classics such as Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, as well as mass market novels popularized by publishers such as Harlequin.

Carla found herself drawn to the library again and again over the next few weeks. Try as she might, she could find no book that did not show evidence of someone having read it in the past. She thought of Quinn's mother and realized that this collection was not one put together for show, but one that was the very books that someone loved and had read. She recalled that Quinn had mentioned that his mother rotated the books in the library on a regular basis. Carla stood in awe at the thought of someone actually having read every book in this room, and then some.

On that second day of her explorations, she removed a book from the shelf, Crime and Punishment, and took it to her room to read. Every few days, she would swap books as she finished the previous one. The third day of her explorations was interrupted briefly by the sound of Quinn's truck firing up. She rushed out the door of the mansion in time to see him pull out of the grounds. Seeing Carlos in the yard, she ran up to him.

"Carlos. Where is Quinn going?"

"Miss, Carla. Master Quinn is going into the village. Another cruise ship is due in today."

"Does he go into town every time there's a cruise ship?"

"Yes, miss."

"Does he bring back a woman with him every time?"

"Almost miss. Master Quinn is a very handsome man."

"But I thought..."

"Thought what miss?"

"Nothing, never mind."

Carla was not about to complete that sentence, at least not out loud. "I thought he desired me?" she was going to say. Carla was shocked at the idea that she had felt a twinge of jealously. Quinn had kidnapped her! She was trapped on the plantation by her nudity and the natural features of the island. How could she have jealously for such a conniving cad?

Unbidden, the memories of their night of sex returned. The exquisite feelings and the glorious climaxes from that night seemed to surge through her body again. Carla felt her nipples stiffening and beads of lubricant forming on her pussy lips. In shame, she retreated from Carlos, back to her room. Tears erupted when she reached her bed. How could she feel this way? What was wrong with her?

She decided that it was the sex. Her body remembered the good sex and didn't care about what came afterwards. She put the desire she was feeling out of her mind and thought of the opportunity. Someone from the outside world was coming to the mansion and would be returning to the outside world. There was a chance to escape, or at least let someone know that she was here, against her will. Unless he was planning on kidnapping every woman he brought back for sex, he would have to let Carla go or face a visit from the authorities.

Carla spent the day on the veranda when she wasn't eating, reading one of the books from the library. The warm tropical weather made her lack of clothing easy to bear, comfort wise. She was still sitting there when Quinn's truck could be heard in the distance. She put the book down and stood up on the porch.. It didn't take long for the truck to appear at the gate. Other than Quinn, the truck was empty.

As Quinn got out of the truck, he waved at Carla, saying, "Good afternoon, Carla. Enjoying the sun?"

"Where is she?"

Quinn looked at her quizzically. "Where is who?"

"The woman from the cruise ship you're going to fuck. That's why you left, isn't it."

"Carla, I have no desire for the women on the ship," he replied, shaking his head. "You're the woman I want, and have."

"You don't have me. I will not agree to have sex with you, Quinn."

"Then neither of us will enjoy that gift again. Think about that, Carla. Can you live without sexual pleasure for the rest of your life?"

"I can get myself off. I don't need you."

"Have you tried recently?"

Carla stared at him, her mind going numb. She had been bluffing. Carla had never been able to orgasm from masturbation. She had always needed something more than mere stimulation. That connection with someone else was apparently vital to her ability to enjoy sex to the fullest. Worse, just thinking about sex was beginning to arouse her. Carla stood and retreated to her room, desperate to keep Quinn from seeing the condition he had sent her into.

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