tagGroup SexIsland Fever 6: Sanctuary Ch. 14

Island Fever 6: Sanctuary Ch. 14


Island Fever 6: Sanctuary

Chapter 14: "Blade"

- Sunday, October 16, 2016 -

- The Island -

I smiled and blinked against the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. There was a beautiful woman resting comfortably atop my body, which was the reason for my involuntary smile. Devon, I thought inwardly, was a deep sleeper who preferred sleeping in the center of the bed.

And she looked really, really sexy when she did it.

I removed a tumble of Devon's Ark of Covenant, golden hair from across my face, taking note of the way Devon's breathing, in soft, soothing puffs, tickled my neck. She lay completely on top of me, her large breasts squished against my bare chest. I had a hand tucked between us, while the other rested on her shoulder. Devon and I had been together all night. I pulled her to me and closed my eyes, reveling in the pure warmth.

In that moment, a wave of happiness overtook me all at once. Yesterday had been wonderful with the news that, for the second time, Trish was pregnant. She and I would be traveling to the mainland via helicopter tomorrow for her initial prenatal examination at the hospital in Lima.

Last evening, the atmosphere on the island was amazing. The energy throughout the mansion was contagious. Everyone was laughing and dancing around to music as we celebrated the wonderful news as a family. Trish was pregnant! Even Kaden, Piper and Dani Grace were into it, busting a move or two.

Plus, we finally had the birthday party for Kristanna, too. She turned 27 more than a week ago, but with the recent drama on the island (namely my back injury and the Alison saga), we kept postponing her birthday party for a later date. Not one bit greedy or overly concerned, Kristanna was fine with us holding off on the party until everything settled down, and returned to normal. Finally, the party happened last night.

I figured that I would ultimately go to bed with Trish - which made sense given the announcement that we were going to have another child - but she opted to spend the evening with her one true soulmate in life, Lindsay. Pamela really wanted to room with Kristanna, it seemed. Not a problem; I was not the jealous type. Besides, Devon swooped in almost immediately and claimed me as her very own.

Yet there was an awkward moment once Devon and I went to bed. I figured that she was in the mood for sex, especially since a big topic of conversation during the party was how Devon was so very long overdue to have a baby of her own.

All of the kids in the family absolutely adored Devon; she was their self-appointed nanny, and was wonderful with them. Devon always seemed so happy and cheerful in their presence. It only made sense that she have children of her own, right?

Devon declined to have sex with me last evening, though, saying that she was tired when I brought the possibility up. She simply wanted to go to sleep. Thus, I did not understand why Devon was so quick to claim me as her room-mate? I felt a little put-off, as I was in a frisky, vibrant mood. And why not? My back was much better, and I was raring to go!

Awkwardness aside, the fact was that Devon and I had not become sexually intimate with each other since she admitted the truth about her past while we were in Pennsylvania on September 26. It had been three weeks since my wife told me that for 14 years while she was growing up, from the age of four all the way to 18, her father sexually molested her.

In fact, Devon and I had not had sex in over a month.

Learning of Devon's early life and childhood certainly shed light onto why she worked so hard to hide her family from us for so long, why she refused to have any real contact with them. Even though her father died earlier this year (another fact that she worked diligently to conceal from us), seeing any member of her family invariably reminded Devon of him, and the awful, monstrous things he had done to her. It took something quite horrible - her mother suffering a heart attack three weeks ago - for Devon to finally break down and return to her grassroots in Pennsylvania. In doing so, Devon finally told me of the abuse she had suffered earlier in life.

She really had no other choice but to tell me.

By the way, Eileen is doing great in her recovery. Devon even speaks with her daily on the telephone now! Many of us are still holding out hope that Devon, after a reconciliation of sorts with her family, will invite her mother, Eileen, as well as her two brothers and one sister (Seth, Michael and Denise) to Norway for Christmas. Or, her birthday next March. We would roll out the red carpet and treat them like royalty. We are not wanting to push her, though, allowing Devon to travel this road of recovery and forgiveness at her own pace. We do not want to make her feel uncomfortable at all.

I also learned during that fateful trip to Pennsylvania that the reason why Devon has held off in having a child of her own for so long was she was fearful, because of the way her father mistreated her, that she would not be a good and viable enough parent herself. That was pure and total nonsense, but I had to tread lightly here considering that Devon was a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. It was not my place to tell her how to think or react to the trauma.

The news, of course, came as a shock to me. My initial reaction, aside from the horror I felt, was why did Devon not tell me or any of her wives about it a long time ago. But I quickly realized that it was not an easy thing for her to just come out and say. Whatever I felt as a result of her secret, I told myself, Devon had to be feeling much worse because she was the one who actually went through it.

During that evening in Pennsylvania at the hotel, Devon told me all about the abuse she suffered as a child. She would wake up at night to find her father watching her with a deranged, mad look on his face, how he'd ruin her clothes, embarrass her in front of friends and family and, in later years, get insanely jealous when she dated in high school.

Devon told me about the episodes in the bathtub, the attic, and all of the times she tried to seek help from her family, and how her mother, two brothers and one sister were all too afraid to even listen, let alone do anything about it. The monster would always threaten to seriously hurt Devon, or do the same nasty things to Denise, if she ever told anyone at school about him, or went to the proper authorities.

I would never wish death on anyone, but perhaps it is a good thing that Devon's father is no longer with us. Why? If he was still alive and I learned of what he had done to Devon in the past, I would not be here right now. I would be in jail - I would have murdered her father, slowly and painfully - knowing this was the man who did the unthinkable to the woman I love, my very own wife. My sweet, sweet wife.

My thoughts were interrupted as Devon, still in bed with me, stirred within my arms.

"Good morning," I said quietly.

But Devon was not a morning person. She never had been. A deep sigh of contentment was her initial response as Devon snuggled into me even further.

"Is it daylight already?" she finally spoke, nuzzling my neck. "So not used to the sun being up before six o'clock in the morning this time of the year." Devon began nibbling at my neck. "You're going to be a father again, Jeremy.

Aren't you excited? Just think ... nine kids for you soon."

"Ten would be even better." I pushed up onto my elbows and met Devon's eyes with my own. Her untamed hair and swollen lips made her the sexiest woman in the world to me right now, bar none, and she was right here in my bed.

I watched the smile dim on Devon's face. "Sorry," I offered. Was that a bit too forward for me? "I think I'm bad at pillow talk." Although I did not flat out tell her this last evening, Devon knew that I was upset that she refused to have sex with me. Devon was well aware of the fact that with Trish pregnant, my sights were set on her now. I wanted - no, I NEEDED - to get Devon pregnant. I was hoping to get that ball rolling last night, so to speak. So was everyone else in the family, for that matter.

"No," Devon responded, shaking her head, as if what I had just said was the craziest thing in the world. "I know that I told you and Krissy when we were in Allentown, Jeremy, that I ... I agreed to start working on having a baby with you.

It will happen, I promise. I just ... not now."

I inclined my head. "Why not? You thought the party last night for Trish was crazy? Do you know how deliriously happy everyone in this family would be if you told us that you were pregnant? Oh my God, Devon, this place would be a mad-house." Devon glanced downward, hiding her eyes from me. I had allowed her to have her space these past couple of weeks, indeed, but perhaps it was time for me to step forward. "What aren't you saying? What aren't you telling me, sweetheart?"

Devon seemed very vulnerable now, very withdrawn.

"Look at my face." Devon did as I instructed her, and she found my eyes were solemn, sincere. "You amaze me every time I see with you any of the children. They love and adore you. You're easily one of the most caring, most loving, most well qualified mothers-in-waiting on the planet."

"Thank you," Devon said. She had to look away, though, because the emotion that threatened was too powerful a foe for her typical resolve. Hearing those words from me really seemed to have a struck a nerve within her. But why? I was simply speaking the truth...

"Why do you doubt yourself?" I asked, turning her chin back to face me. "You would be an excellent mother, Devon, and I know it would be a dream-come-true for you."

Devon stared at me for a long moment, then shook her head slowly and got out of bed, and walked away. Huh? What? Why? What just happened? Why did she walk away from me? Did I say something wrong? I complimented her!

I was mystified...

* * *

"Three orgasms?" Scarlett asked Lindsay, absently popping a chocolate-covered raisin in her mouth. I happened upon the two ladies seated together sometime after lunch in the library.

Actually, I had been searching for Scarlett for several moments, but decided to stay silent for the time being as I eavesdropped on them. Their discussion seemed promising. "Three orgasms. No way you're telling the truth right now."

"That's not even counting this morning," Lindsay said, nabbing a chocolate-covered raisin of her own.

"There were more orgasms this morning?"

Lindsay did not answer Scarlett with words. Instead, she chewed her raisin and regarded Scarlett with an eyebrow raise.

"There were!" Scarlett exclaimed, pointing at her. "There were more orgasms! Who knew that Trish would be so hot and heavy last night right out of the gate after learning that she was pregnant?" Scarlett high-fived Lindsay. "You go, girl! No wonder you're in such a good mood today!"

"Trish was RAVENOUS last night! More." Lindsay held out her hand and Scarlett poured her a few more of the delicious raisins. "This morning, too. It was so awesome!"

"Well, it's good to know that some of us had an eventful evening," I said flatly from the entranceway of the library. Lindsay and Scarlett both turned at the sound of my voice and offered me puzzled expressions.

"What do you mean?" Scarlett wondered.

"Never mind," I responded, perking up. Lindsay had a passionate night with Trish, it seemed, and I did not want to bring her down by complaining about the lack of action I received while sleeping with Devon. Why rain on her parade?

So, I offered Lindsay and Scarlett a happy smile, diverting, "How are you doing this afternoon, girls?"

"I'm doing good, actually, but obviously not as good as Lindsay," Scarlett answered, grinning. "Maybe Trish will go to bed with me tonight? I'm in the mood for an all-nighter."

Lindsay beamed. "I'd like to thank Jesus and Red Bull for giving me the energy to make it through the night."

Scarlett raised her Diet Mountain Dew in solidarity. "They both give you wings."

"I like what you did there, Scar-Scar," Lindsay nodded, tapping their styrofoam cups together. "But you have to remember, I'm the funny one in the family. Not you. It's my job to say funny and creative things like that."

Scarlett glared at her. "Excuse me. I'm funny."

Lindsay held both hands up and made a framing motion with them, as if she was snapping off a photograph of her wife. Scarlett stared back at her, looking like an adorable, confused puppy. "You'd win the cuteness contest," Lindsay assured her. "Without a doubt. But not the funny one."

"I can be cute and funny," Scarlett mumbled into her Diet Mountain Dew.

"You can be, sure," Lindsay relented.

"Thank you. But I think you're just being nice."

"Have you met me? I was born being nice."

"Good point," Scarlett nodded. "What shall we do now?"

"Ummmmm, ice cream," Lindsay replied without hesitation.

"Actually," I interjected, making my presence known yet again, "I was hoping that you and I could talk for a bit." I nodded, then pointed a finger toward Scarlett. "Maybe we could go swimming in the pool for another therapy session?

You know, work on strengthening my back, making it better."

"Ahh, sure," Scarlett countered, looking at her wristwatch. "Dylan probably won't be up from his mid-day nap for another 90 minutes or so. We can get a swim session in."

Scarlett made a motion to stand up, but Lindsay lightly grabbed the front of her blouse and pulled her in. Scarlett smiled at the little show of affection and the tingles that Lindsay obviously sent down her spine.

"Ice cream, later?"

Scarlett smiled at her. "You got yourself a date, girl." The two ladies rubbed their noses together and gently kissed.

* * *

She had one of the most fantastic bodies I had ever seen.

And Scarlett seemed happy to remind me of that a short time later when the blonde bombshell hit the indoor pool with me in nothing more than a skimpy red bikini and a pair of shades. Her figure, even though she just gave birth this past April to our son, Dylan, was incredibly fit and toned. Scarlett looked flawless from all angles as she paraded about in the pool.

"So what exactly did you want to discuss, Jeremy?"

I had spent a lot of time at this indoor pool, located on the upper level of the mansion just beneath the roof, this week. Scarlett was a proponent of aquatic therapy and felt it was an excellent way to treat the back injury I had suffered.

Aquatic therapy uses the resistance of water instead of weights in order to rehabilitate individuals after an injury, or those suffering from chronic pain. Water exercises promote balance and stability, mobilize joints and increase overall range of motion. The buoyancy of the water supports body weight, making it easy to move and promote flexibility, yet also provides some resistance to movement at the same time, which in turn strengthens and provides healing for muscles.

The warmth of the water in the indoor pool (which had been cranked up to 94 degrees Fahrenheit this week specifically for me) and its massaging effects allowed my muscles to relax while helping to reduce the ongoing pain. I was able to move and exercise freely in the pool (under Scarlett's supervision) without fear of causing any further damage to my lower spine.

"I need your advice."

"Oh?" Scarlett countered, tilting her butterfly sunglasses upward until they rested atop her head. "What's up?"

"It's about Devon."

Worry suddenly seem to prick away upon Scarlett's face. "Oh? Yeah. I talked to her for a bit after breakfast. Seems that you and her got off on the wrong foot this morning."

"What did she say, exactly?"

Scarlett did not answer right away. Instead, she seemed to mull her thoughts. "I already know what you're going to say to me, Jeremy, why you asked me here. You want a medical opinion, some advice? You just need to take a step back and give Devon some more space, a little more time to collect, to gather her thoughts. Devon did a really good job all these years, the past decade or so, trying to forget her past life - trying to block it from her memory. In the past three years, in this relationship, those negative memories had been mostly blocked. Everything for Devon was perfect. Most of her memories, at least, but some things still gnawed away at her."

"Like what?"

"First off, three weeks ago when Devon got that telephone call from her brother - it re-awakened all of the bad memories for her. You yourself, Jeremy, said that she was an emotional wreck on the airplane simply traveling to Pennsylvania, and it had nothing to do with the fact her mother was sick, and in the hospital. Devon had no choice but to travel there and be there for her mother, yet in doing so, she returned to the root of her nightmares. She had to go back to the same house and see the same bedroom where her father did unspeakable things to her all the time she was growing up. She probably heard voices, even saw ghosts ... certainly had flashbacks. It must have been terrifying for her, in a way."

"All of those feelings, those memories, are front and center in Devon's mind again," Scarlett continued. "And for many survivors of sexual abuse, there is a common pattern, a progression they follow. Especially women. They seem to deal with the emotional stress okay early in life, in their early and mid-20's, but things may change when marriage comes along. Devon married you at 28, Jeremy, and she is 30 now. You were her boyfriend, her love interest, but now you are her husband. You are a relative now. Her perpetrator was a male relative, too - her father. The two go hand-in-hand. This is different than any of her wives."

I had no clue what Scarlett was driving at here. So, I stayed silent and allowed her to keep talking.

"Devon was able to mask and suppress many of her fears for so long because she distanced herself from that life she once led," Scarlett theorized. "Coming to this island three years ago, Devon wiped her slate clean. As best she could, at least. She stayed as far away from Pennsylvania as possible and would not let any of us have any contact with her family whatsoever.

We all wondered why, right? Why was her family off-limits?"

"What typically happens to female survivors of childhood abuse is when they get married, they start to feel unsafe. A male relative hurt Devon in the past, and now she has a new male relative - you, her husband - wanting to do the same things to her, but in a completely different way. Sexual intimacy was forced on by her father, but with you, it's supposed to be mutual, very loving. In her mind, with her distorted past and all of the trauma she experienced as a child, a survivor may not be able to tell the two apart."

"And when the survivor of childhood sexual abuse becomes pregnant and ultimately gives birth, that is when things can really become complicated. Especially if the baby is a girl. The survivor may start to rage, act irrational, and have nightmares. Have unfound fears for the safety of her child. Other issues can pop up, too, such as a very overprotective parenting style, wanting to micro-manage the child's entire life, or a permissive style, wanting to be the child's best friend and appease them, instead of being a proper parent. Neither style is conducive to a healthy upbringing."

Scarlett paused for a brief moment, allowing me to take all of that in.

"Why do you think Devon has been so reluctant to become pregnant?" Scarlett asked me. "Why disrupt her life? She has finally found happiness and, up until three weeks ago, everything was perfect. The past was completely buried ... nearly. Some parts of it still nipped away at her." I was still not understanding Scarlett's main point. "Do you know what happens, Jeremy, when a survivor becomes pregnant and gives birth? As I said, things become complicated then. If the baby is a girl, the father may even become the mother's enemy. Devon does not want to think of you as her enemy."

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