Island Slave Ch. 03

Quinn's hands grasped her head, holding her in place. He did not fuck against her face, but simply gave her no choice but to keep him inside. Carla suck, licked and massaged Quinn until he was on the verge of exploding. Then he pulled out.

"Jack me off onto your face," he gasped.

Carla moved her hands up and down his shaft until he came, spraying cum all over her face. She had closed her eyes (once in the eyes, a long time ago, was quite enough for her, thank you) and was aiming the cum to every part of her face.

"Rub it all over your face. Keep it out of your mouth."

Carla did as she was told, covering every inch of her face with the slimy fluid. She could smell its sensual aroma. Her eyes stayed closed as her rubbed it over them as well. Soon, she could feel the cum drying, pulling gently on her skin, trapping her eyelids shut. She held her hands up a little when she was done, not sure what to do with them.

His hand's touch on her breasts was a shock. Carla lifted her arms higher, giving Quinn more access to her needy nipples. Those feather light touches were back. Her chest thrust forward, trying to increase the sensation, but he kept pace with them, never changing the firmness. She was unable to hold still, writhing, thrusting, gasping at the touches she had longed for for so long.

Suddenly, there was pain in her nipples. He was pinching them tightly between his fingers. She cried out in pain, whispering, "No," over and over again. He ignored her, and instead, pulled up on them while pinching, adding to the pain. Her hands dropped to his, grasping his wrists. Her struggles against him were futile and seemed to merely increase the force he was using. When he let go, she snapped back and the pain, which had eased to a dull throb, flared. Her hands went to her tortured nipples, massaging them, trying to ease the pain.

"Oh, God, yes!" she screamed when something touched her pussy.

It was light, barely felt, yet all the more intense for its gentleness. The touch left, then returned. She could not see what it was; a finger? (her eyes were stuck shut by dried cum) There was a soft sound between the contacts, but she could not place what it was. They were wet sounds with a light pop at the end. After several minutes of this slow, intermittent caressing, Quinn spoke.

"You taste delicious, my dear. I could do this all night."

"Please, I need more. Fuck me Quinn, fuck me hard."

"I intend to, my dear Carla. Although, only after you are sobbing and begging me ."

Carla moaned in agony. Quinn was true to his word. For over an hour, he kept up a varying pace of caresses to her entire body. She eventually managed to pry her eyes open and had to watch his newly hardened cock ignore her pussy, leaving all the attention it was getting in his hands. He did drive her to tears. Not just tears, but deep wracking sobs of frustration that had her begging and whimpering for him to fuck her.

Only then did he plunge into her, forcing a scream from her lungs at the filling of her cunt. Once he started, he was fast and furious. Quinn pounded against her, withdrawing almost the entire length with each outward pull and shoving in brutally with each thrust. Strangely, she did not cum quickly. It was as if she was past the point where she would normally cum and had to find a new plateau to trigger her orgasm. When it hit, she screamed again, even louder. Tremors wracked her body for what seemed like an interminable length of time.

As she was coming out of it, she realized that he was still fucking her. She knew she should be experiencing discomfort, but was instead, being propelled towards another climax. Her breath was coming short and there was darkness on the edges of her vision. In no time, she was shuddering again, vaguely aware of his voice being added to hers and the flood of warmth in her pussy from his cum.

Carla became aware of her surroundings. She was still in bed, bound, with Quinn resting on top of her. "I must have passed out," she thought to herself. "I've never done that during sex before." She noticed that Quinn was looking at her.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Thanks. That's never happened before."

"Too bad. Being fucked until you pass out should happen to everyone at least once in their lives."

"It was certainly intense. Will it always be like this with you?"

"No, not always. I won't even tie you up every time."

"I see. Am I going to sleep like this?"

"Do you want to?"

"I don't think so. I roll around enough that I would keep myself awake."

Quinn rolled off her. "Feel free to untie yourself. That is why you chose this binding, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Carla worked the ropes loose, freeing herself from the bed. She sat on the edge, looking at Quinn's body. He was sexy, there was no doubt about that. When he didn't say anything, she rose and left the room, heading for her own room. She was asleep quickly. While she slept, she replayed the night in her dreams. It was then, while her mind sorted everything out, that she was able to make out his word when he entered the room, "Melanie."

When she woke, she knew she had an important clue, several actually. M was Melanie. At some point, she had been bound, much as Carla had been, enough so that Carla reminded Quinn of Melanie. It was a painful memory as well. What had happened? Where was Melanie? Did she leave him? Did he send her away? Was she dead? Carla had to know, had to find out the truth. She needed to know what made this man she was so fascinated with, click.

With her overt approval of his taking her sexually whenever he wanted, Carla found herself in Quinn's bed much more often. It wasn't each day, but it was close. The only nights he didn't take her to bed were the ones he was not in the mansion by the time she went to bed. There were days when he spent the entire day with her, taking her three or four times over the course of the day. All during this time, she continued her explorations of the upstairs and the search for the basement key, though that was no longer the only, or even main, goal. Now, she wanted to learn as much as possible about Quinn and his past life.

Carla continued to be surprised at the courtesy she was treated with by Quinn and his staff. Other than her inability to leave and her nakedness, the staff acted as if she was the mistress of the house. Their nervousness at her activities on the second floor faded once they realized that she left upstairs, upstairs, not bringing that pain to Quinn's constant attention. Quinn was a contradiction. When they were not having sex together, he was unfailingly polite. When they were in bed, he was demanding, always satisfying himself before she was. Yet, he never failed to bring her to orgasm either.

Her search remained her obsession. Not only did it remain, it grew. It would be some time yet before she was aware of how much, and when she did, it would mark a turning point in her time with Quinn. The exercise room had much of what one might expect to find. The boxes contained all manner of workout equipment; barbell sets, a stepping system, even a set of isometrics gear. In the bottom of one small box that contained jump ropes and other small exercise equipment, however, she found two notebooks.

In the first one, she found notes made in Quinn's handwriting. Clearly a record of workouts, it seemed to stretch for a 20 year period. Carla could not imagine keeping a record of 20 years of workouts. Then she noticed the dates. They ended ten years ago. It seemed that everything of importance happened ten years ago. Then it hit her. Based on his age now, that would have put him in his mid teens when it started. Quickly calculating from his current age of 45, she figured he had been 15 when he started the notebook. Obviously, he had a passion for fitness. Flipping through, she noticed that his routine became less vigorous when he turned 23. That fit with when he said he inherited the plantation.

Nodding her head, she realized that made sense. Once he was having to make daily trips to the fields, he would have less time or need to work out. There was another change when he was 32. She could not tell what, since his notes were abbreviated in some code only he knew, but the types of exercises changed then. Instead of entries with notations like, "BB 25/75: SU 50: JR 50: IM 10/2," there were entries like, "BB 25/75: WM 25: PM 25: BT 15/5: PT 10/4." (whatever BB was, he seemed to be dedicated to that) This new regimen was less scrupulously followed, several days between sessions being common. Those entries continued until less than a year before the end of the notebook. After that, entries were less frequent and reverted to the previous format.

The second notebook was in a much more delicate handwriting that practically screamed, "woman." It seemed to start 13 years ago and ended 11 years ago. This record seemed to be even more detailed, or at least recorded a regimen that was more thorough. Entries in this one typically looked like, "TM 25/25: SS 25/10: W 25: P 25: BR 15, PS 10: BJ 2: PF 2: AF 1." Carla was unaware of any exercise that showed benefits with only one or two repetitions. The notebooks left her more confused afterwards than before she found them.

The gaming room was the least informative of the rooms she had searched so far. The few boxes contained a wide assortment of gaming materials; decks of cards, poker chips, board games of every type, boxes of carefully painted military miniatures, containers of polyhedral dice, even a few adult games. Carla found the two dozen decks of Playboy cards humorous. The various games and materials were from dates that extended back for four decades. Not all were in English either.

It was during this portion of her search that the key turned up. Quinn had called her into his study after dinner, the usual preliminary to his calling upon her sexually.

"Carla, go to my bedroom. You will find in the top drawer of my dresser, a couple of clips. Use them to bind your hands together behind your back and your ankles together."

Carla went to his room and opened one of the top drawers (there were two). The clips were not readily visible and she started to dig through the socks that filled the drawer. In the back, she found a small (1 inch by 2 inches) manila envelope, brittle and the seal long since failed. Inside, she found a Master padlock key. Her heart clenched. Even without testing it, she knew this was what she had been looking for. She quickly put it back, not having anyplace to hide it.

She found the clips (D-rings actually) in the other drawer and soon had her hands and feet bound as he requested. The sex that followed was as intense as it always was when she was in bondage. Afterwards, she pondered how she could get the key and see what was in the room. Unfortunately, in the months since she had arrived, the plantation took less and less of Quinn's time. He frequently spent the entire day in the mansion and was never away at night anymore. During the day, there was too much chance of being caught by Bonita and Juan. She would have to wait.

Carla was unaware of it, but she had grown used to living as she did in the mansion. Thoughts of escape had faded from her mind, for the most part. She came face to face with this truth when, four months into her captivity, she started her search of the changing room, as she called it. She opened the first box and found it full of clothes.

Carla gasped. Quickly, she opened all the other boxes, finding every one full of clothes; men's clothes, woman's clothes, children's clothes. She stood in the middle of the room, looking at dozens of boxes of clothes. Unbidden, the thought came to her, "You can leave now. You have clothes, shoes. You can walk to the village and go home." In response, she whispered, "But, I don't want to leave now."

Carla collapsed to her knees, crying. Somehow, some when, her desire to escape had gone. She could rationalize, and tell herself that her life, her job, her apartment, they were all gone now. But it would just be a rationalization. She would not be declared dead for seven years. Until then, her bank accounts would be safe, her money available to her. She simply did not want to go back there, not now.

Carla lay on the floor and cried off and on for over an hour. She felt like she had lost something, yet she could not describe a feeling of loss, a sensation that left her confused. Only later would she realize that she felt like she should feel a loss and didn't. Finally, resigned to what she wanted, she stood and started the long process of sorting the clothes and putting them away.

The process took her a month (she was still recording everything in her notebooks, she had long since had to pilfer more). Whoever had packed them had paid no attention to who the were for. She had to sort the clothes on the basis of size, gender, type, age. Children's clothes she stored in the dresser in one of the bedrooms. She sorted them for gender and apparent size. The sizes ranged from newborn to teen, clearly the progression of at least two children into adulthood. She thought she saw some evidence of Quinn in some of the teenage clothes.

In the adult clothing, there were three distinct women represented. One was about Carla's size and she could not help but try them on, feeling clothes against her body for the first time in months. Strangely, it felt a little wrong, even when it felt wonderful or sensuous. That woman's clothes she put away in that first bedroom, where she had found the jewelry box. The other two women's clothes were placed in the walk-in closets in the changing room.

Four distinct men were represented in the clothes, one of them Quinn's size. Quinn's clothes, as he came to think of them, were placed in the first bedroom as well. There was a selection of leather clothes that could only be described as fetish in nature. They would need treating before someone could wear them, if at all. The other men's clothes were stored in the second bedroom with the children's clothing. If that one set of clothes were Quinn's, his tastes had changed drastically. Those clothes, apart from the fetish wear, were much more formal. Absent were the jeans and t-shirts that he wore now. It was too bad, since he would look incredible in these.

Partway through the sorting of the clothes, Carla noticed a new addition to the main hall. A wooden wall hanging of a house, this mansion in fact, with 24 little doors or windows, numbered from 1 to 24, was there. She opened one of the doors and found a hand written passage. "And this shall be a sign unto you, the virgin will be found to be with child."

"Oh my God!" she said out loud. "This is an advent calendar. It's Christmas season."

"Yes, it is Miss Carla. Tomorrow is December 1^st. Master Quinn always has the advent calendar for Christmas." Bonita had walked up behind Carla.

"I had no idea so much time had passed."

"Do you celebrate the Christ's birth, ma'am?"

"Kind of. I have no family nearby…" Carla's voice broke at the knowledge that she would not see or hear from her friends and family this season.

Bonita put her hand on Carla's shoulder. The older woman empathized with her, but knew she could not do anything to relieve the pain. Several minutes later, Carla dried her eyes.

"I usually didn't do much for Christmas. I didn't have family near and didn't want to intrude on friends. I mailed gifts and cards, but I didn't even set up a tree."

"Miss Carla, you are welcome to be part of our family, here at the mansion."

"I appreciate that, Bonita. I'm not sure though. Celebrate Christmas with the people who are keeping you prisoner?" There was a hint of humor in her voice.

"I can think of no better time, other than the resurrection. We are to love our enemies, are we not?"

"Yes, I suppose we are. Don't tell Quinn, but I'm not sure how much an enemy you are."

Carla walked away before Bonita had a chance to ask any uncomfortable questions. She had been honest. It was very difficult to treat people who were so unfailingly polite as enemies. As the day passed, she realized she needed something to make this season bearable. That night, at dinner, she broached the subject with Quinn.

"Quinn, I'd like a favor."

"What would that be, Carla."

"I would like to send out Christmas cards to the people I knew in my other life."

"I see. You wouldn't be planning to send a message out in those cards, would you?"

"I might have. But, I would be willing to let you read all of them to make sure I'm not. I just don't think I can enjoy the holidays without at least letting my friends and family know that I'm alive and healthy"

"That sounds fair. What will you need?"

"Mainly, I need my PDA. It has all the addresses for everyone I would be sending cards to. That and the cards, of course."

"I'll get those for you tomorrow. I'll have to fly to the big island to get the cards. We don't have much call for them here."

"Thank you Quinn. I really appreciate this."

The next morning, there was a small ceremony at the advent calendar after breakfast. Juan opened the first door and read the inscription. The five people present, Quinn, Carla, Bonita, Juan and Carlos, sang a carol in Spanish. Then the day proceeded normally. Quinn left to fly to the big island. Part way through the day, Carla realized that she would have her chance. He always stayed overnight when he flew. She could sneak the key and look in the mystery room.

She had a hard time concentrating the rest of the day, her thoughts turning to the basement room that had stymied her for the past few months. She had no trouble staying awake that night. After about two hours, the time it usually took her to read a romance novel, she cracked her door open and looked out into the hall. It looked clear. She padded down to Quinn's room and found the key right where she had left it. Key in hand, she grabbed one of her lamps and headed to the basement.

Trembling with nervousness, she slipped the key into the lock. Her heart seemed to skip a beat when the key turned and the lock opened. She cracked the door open and let the light from her lantern illuminate the room beyond. Carla's hand flew to her mouth and she nearly dropped the lantern. The room beyond could only be described as a dungeon.

Her eyes were drawn immediately to the pole in the center of the room. It had a ring mounted on it. Her mind conjured the image of a woman, hands bound to the ring, looking back over her shoulder. This room was the picture. Setting the lamp down, she walked over to the pole. Her arms raised of their own accord and grasped the ring. She had to stand in her tip toes to do it, but she could. Looking back over her shoulder, she imagined she could see Quinn standing there, a whip in hand. Her body shuddered and her stomach clenched. She flinched a time or two as she pictured a whip hitting her body, leaving a deep red mark behind.

Carla shook her head, shaking the imaginary scene from her eyes. Looking around, she saw several other contraptions in the room. There was an X-shaped frame against one wall. Another wall had numerous hooks and eye-bolts mounted at both the seven foot level and at floor level. Stretching against them, she noted that someone her size could be bound spread against the wall, quite tightly bound in fact. The third wall had a work bench along it with several storage drawers. There was also a gymnastics vaulting horse with eye-bolts added to either side, a saw horse with a smooth and rounded top edge, some mounting hooks in the ceiling, and a table that resembled a gynecologist's exam table made of covered wood.

Looking back at the door, she realized that it was quite thick. The wall to the main basement area was just as thick. Sound would not carry out of this room, she suspected. She walked over to the workbench and opened on of the drawers. By now, finding a coiled whip was not a surprise. After all, what was a dungeon without the implements of torture? A quick peek at all the drawers showed a wide selection of whips, floggers, paddles and canes, as well as numerous devices whose nature she wasn't sure she wanted to know about. The blindfolds and gags were obvious, though some seemed far too large to fit in one's mouth (Carla was, in fact, lumping the plugs in with the gags). Everything seemed designed to either restrain, inflict pain, or go in some orifice (she did recognize the dildos and vibrators).