tagLetters & TranscriptsIsland Slave Ch. 04

Island Slave Ch. 04


Chapter Four

Melanie Thiesman

Carla picked up the other book. It was a journal, kept in a composition notebook. On its cover was, "My Journal of Exploration by Melanie Thiesman." The script was in a delicate and neat handwriting. Carla was sure that someone whispered, "Read. Understand," yet, no one was there with her. At 4:00 in the afternoon, on Dec. 22, 2007, Carla opened the journal of Melanie Thiesman and began to read...

* * *

June 17, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I know it seems strange for a 24 year old woman to be writing to a diary like she was a prepubescent girl, but this is how I've always written my journals. I feel comfortable writing to an imaginary friend. I'm Melanie Thiesman and I am madly in love with Quinn Sanchez. I met him a little over a year ago on a cruise. He wasn't on the cruise, he was, is, a local who swept me off my feet. I stayed behind with him and have never left. He has taken me places that I never believed I could go. I finally found someone who does not think of me as a freak.

I suppose I should explain a little about myself. I like sex. That doesn't make me unusual. What makes me a freak in most people's eyes is how I like sex. I want to be controlled by my man. I want to have no say in anything that happens to me. If he wants to tie me up, I want to let him. If he wants to spank me, I want him to. I know this is shocking, but it's who I am. I don't remember when I first felt these types of desires, but I've had them for as long as I've felt the desire for sex.

Quinn has been wonderful about it all. I think he may have desires for controlling women. If so, we make a perfect couple. Last night, Quinn asked me to consider something new, something deeper in our relationship. He has always controlled my sex life. He's demanded sexual things from me that many, if not most women, would consider degrading and perverted. Being tied up in uncomfortable positions; being spanked until I'm in tears; being peed on and drinking his pee. What he's asked for is different. He wants me to be his slave.

I'm frightened, Betsy. Quinn is talking about total slavery, not just my sex life. If I agree, I will be his property, bound to obey him at every turn. Not just for sex, but in every area of my life: clothing, food, who I see and talk with, where I sleep, everything. I am scared of how much I want this. When I think of being at his mercy every minute of every day, of turning all my possessions over to him as well as my life, I feel a burning need in my belly for that feeling of...I don't know how to describe it. It's like all my submission during sex was just the tip of the iceberg. That this is what I've craved all my life. Will I lose myself in this, or is this the way to finding myself? I just don't know.

June 19, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I've made up my mind. Ironically, what cinched it for me was Quinn telling me that if I say yes, I can't take it back. When I heard that, my heart leapt and my belly became tied in knots. There was something so right about it. Of course I couldn't take it back, I would be agreeing to become his slave. Slaves don't get take backs. I'm telling him tonight that I will be his slave. I'm still scared, but I won't let that stop me from doing something that seems so perfect for me. My life is going to change.

June 24, 1994

Dear Betsy,

The last few days have been intense. As soon as I agreed to be Quinn's slave, he ordered me to strip. I haven't been clothed since then. I wasn't ready for the feeling of humiliation that came with being naked in front of Bonita, Juan and Carlos. They had become good friends over the last year and now I am naked and collared in front of them on a regular basis. I could tell that Juan and Carlos were eying me every time we were in the same room. They never touched me or even acted like they wanted to.

In spite of the humiliation, I know I've done what is right for me. There's a strange sense of safety in knowing that Quinn is responsible for everything in my life. The sex we've had has been terrific, the best I've ever experienced. He has fucked me in every hole I have: mouth, pussy and ass. Sometimes he doesn't let me have an orgasm, sometimes he does. I've been bound in some way every time. I like this change in my life.

June 30, 1994

Dear Betsy,

We completed the last of the transactions today. Everything I owned is now Quinn's. Even if I wanted to back out, there is nothing left for me other than Quinn. If I didn't trust Quinn so much, I could never bring myself to do this. I am without any resources, naked and collared, trapped in a mansion that is surrounded by terrain that would cut my feet to ribbons. I am truly Quinn's.

I suppose I could take some of Bonita's clothes and make my way to the village. I'm sure Maria would help me if I asked. I don't want to, though. This is a dream come true. I exist to serve my Master in all things. I am with him at all times, usually on a leash. The plantation workers ogle me when we are inspecting the crops. I kneel at his feet when he is working in his office. I sleep with my arms chained to the head of the bed. I eat on the floor, sometimes without the use of my hands. I know many would find it so degrading, but I find it so right. I would have it no other way. Each day, I look for some new way to serve him. I am so happy.

July 2, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I'm in pain right now. Quinn took me to a room in the basement that did not exist before. He called it his dungeon. It reminded me of something I had seen in low grade medieval movies. He tied me to a wooden "X" shape, pulling me tight enough that it hurt. I was frightened of what was to happen next. I pleaded with him, asked him to explain how I had displeased him. He said, "You haven't displeased me. I simply want to whip you." I think I was shaking, at least as much I could, given how tightly I was bound.

This was not the first time he had whipped me. He had tied me up on the bed and whipped me before. In the past, though, I knew that I could stop it with a safe word. I couldn't this time. This was part of being a slave that I had not thought of, though I should have. Oh my God! The pain was horrible. He struck me again and again. There was no warm up and no gentleness. It felt like liquid fire was poured on my back and legs. I was screaming for mercy, but he ignored my cries.

Afterwards, while I was still tied to the cross thing, he pulled my head back by the hair and whispered, "Now you understand what being my slave is all about. You are mine to do with as I please. I won't always do this, not even often. But, I will from time to time, to make sure you know whose you are." He took me down and led me to his room. I must have laid there for hours, waiting for the pain to ease up. He did put something on my back and legs. I'm assuming it was something to keep me from infecting.

July 3, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I had to stop last night. Quinn came in and wanted to fuck me. He bound me to the bed, on my back, and used me to bring himself off. My back ached with every touch from the sheets. He gave me no pleasure, simply fucked me until he came in my cunt and then fell asleep beside me. I spent the night spread out, unable to move. When I woke, I was sore all over.

For the first time since I enslaved myself, I'm not with him. He left me to recover. A warm bath took the aches out of my body. I saw my back for the first time since it was whipped. It's a mass of red stripes, many of them actual welts. A few looked like they had been bleeding at some point in time. I still can't stand anything touching them. I hope he gives me a chance to heal.

In spite of this, I still want to be his slave. In a weird sort of way, it feels like he cares about me. He cared enough to let me feel the full weight of my slavery. I truly am his and he will make sure everyone knows it. I think Bonita was holding back tears when she saw my back at breakfast. I had to eat it on the floor out of a dog dish. At least it wasn't dog food.

July 12, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Quinn wants me to keep a log of my exercises. By that, he means both my physical workout and my purely slave duties. I'm a bit worried about this. I have no trouble recording how many minutes I use the treadmill or stair stepper at what grade. But he wants me to record my torture and use at his hands. I can just see someone finding a notebook that says, "Quinn whipped me 25 times today, fucked my cunt once and my ass twice." I think I'll use a code, something like W# for the lashes from the whip and BJ# for the number of blow jobs I gave him.

Yes, he really does have that kind of stamina. He doesn't use me sexually every day, but when he does, he can take me repeatedly. I really love that about him. I've even had him stay hard after cumming. Just last night, he had me tied to the bed. I was kneeling on the mattress with my arms pulled towards the headboard, my ankles pulled towards the foot of the bed with my knees pulled in the same way as my hands. This forced me to kneel, head down, with my legs spread wide.

He then took a paddle to my ass. This one was wooden with holes drilled in it. I remember seeing something like it in Animal House being used to initiate some of the hoity toity frat pledges. God that hurts! The holes make it worse, giving that many more edges to inflame. I have to count each stroke and ask him for another. This time, he hit me 25 times, slow, hard smacks that took the breath out of me. I was in tears by the time he was done. I was also dripping on the bed. When he goes all macho on me, I just melt into a puddle of aroused flesh. At the end, I was tearfully begging him to fuck me, to fuck me hard and fast.

He did too. He practically jumped onto the bed and plunged his cock into my cunt. When his groin hit my ass cheeks, I cried out from the pain and from the pleasure. Tied as I was, I could thrust back against him and I took full advantage of that ability. God damn! I'm creaming with desire just writing about this. He came inside of me in a matter of minutes, leaving me hanging, or so it seemed. He didn't go soft, however. He was still hard when he pulled out. I felt his hand plunge into my pussy, wetting itself on mine and his fluids. Then he used them to lube my ass. It's been over a year and I'm still not used to his taking me there. I gasped when he shoved himself into me. Since I enslaved myself, he doesn't take his time back there anymore. He just plunges in and I have to deal with it.

I'm sure I was gasping with each stroke, but I was also pushing back against him, forcing him deeper into me. Everything in me wants to make him happy and satisfied. It's like it has become my reason for existence. I was moaning with need, as ass fucks never bring me off. I need that contact with my pussy and clit. It wasn't happening. He came in my ass with a cry, and I started to cry when I felt him start to go soft and pull out of me. He climbed off the bed.

The pain of the whip shocked me out of my tears, or at least sent me into a new type of tears. My back had exploded as the multiple strands impacted my back. I barely had the presence of mind to start counting again. Twenty five more strokes hit me. Some of the lashes wrapped around to hit my belly and breasts. It was all I could do to get the numbers out. I was incoherent by the time he had finished.

Then he was back on the bed and in my pussy again. I felt the pleasure building up amidst the pain. I pushed against him, even though every push aggravated the pain in my back. This time I came first, my body shaking in its bonds, me screaming at the top of my lungs. He kept pounding into me, his thrusts taking on a savage mien. I could hear him growl as he gripped my hips hard enough that I could feel his fingernails digging into my flesh. I had barely started to come down from my first orgasm when the second one hit me. My pussy clenched at his cock and my mouth hung open, drool spilling out. As this one crested, a third one hit and I could feel his cum splashing into my cunt.

We were both spent after this. He collapsed on the bed right after untying me. I was asleep soon afterwards. That's what sex with Quinn can be like, now that I'm his slave. Before, there was some bondage and pain play, but nothing really intense. Some over the knee spanking and breast pinching. We do still have plain sex, just not very often. It's almost like a vacation when we do, something nice and relaxing as a break from the usual

July 17, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Quinn has introduced something new into our sex lives. He calls it breast and pussy torture. He received these new toys from some mail order place. They are called tit clamps. I'm not sure why, since they can be used anywhere, including my pussy. When they clamp onto my nipples or lips, the pain is intense. They can be adjusted for different levels of pressure. He was experimenting and had one so tight that the nipple was squashed flat. To make matters worse, they have chains on the ends that he can hang weights on! He fucked me doggie style while they hung from my tits and the swinging weights kept sending new surges of pain through my breasts.

Would you believe that I came from that? It's like my body is responding to pain differently now. I can't imagine what they will feel like, swinging from my pussy lips or, God forbid, my clit. The worst part, though, is removal. I'm not sure what causes it, but the pain from those things being released is ten times worse than from them going on or swinging. I can't wait to find out what being whipped while these things are on me feels like.

July 27, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Quinn had to leave on a business trip today. He expects to be gone for a week. He has instructed me to not masturbate while he is gone. I'm not sure I can do that. I've been getting sex from him almost every day for over a month now. I'm horny all the time. There have been times when I've gone to him begging for him to use me sexually. We'll see what happens.

July 30, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I couldn't do it. I masturbated to a wonderful orgasm this morning. Afterwards, I felt so guilty. I don't know what's going to happen. This is the first time that I've directly disobeyed him since I became his slave. I'm scared that he will send me away.

August 2, 1994

Dear Betsy,

In for an ounce, in for a pound, I guess. I masturbated three times yesterday. I just lost control. I've been so horny that it's not funny. Ever since I enslaved myself to Quinn, my need for sex has been nearly uncontrollable. I seem to be aroused almost constantly. There is an aching emptiness in my pussy. I miss Quinn so much. It's so hard when he's not around. He gets back tomorrow, so I guess I'll see what he's going to do about my inability to control myself then.

August 4, 1994

Dear Betsy,

It was bad, really bad. Quinn was not mad when I told him that I had masturbated four times while he was gone. He was disappointed. The look he gave shot me through the heart. I never want to see that look again. He took me to the bedroom and tied me to the bed. He had me stand at the foot of the bed, tied my feet to the legs and pulled my hands towards the head of the bed before tying them off. I couldn't move a muscle. Then he took the whip to me with a terrifying viciousness. The strokes were slow and methodical, working up and down my entire back and along my thighs. Each lashing hit with the same force as the one before it.

I almost wish he had been furious with me, that he had lost control and whipped me until I passed out. Instead, I felt the hurt in him with every stroke. I felt his disappointment in me. I was sobbing the entire time, only partly from the pain. I would take those pleasures back in a heartbeat if I could. Afterwards, my entire back side, from just below my neck to the tops of my ankles were a solid mass of red. Every motion I made was agony as my sore and bruised flesh was forced to move.

The worst part was that he did not use me for his pleasure. He had an erection when he returned home. Instead of fucking me or demanding a blow job, he masturbated and made me watch, still bound to the bed. My punishment is not over yet. My hands are to be chained to my collar by a pair of one foot long chains. My hands will barely be able to reach my breasts, let alone my pussy. I won't be able to feed myself, I won't be able to masturbate (the whole point), I won't even be able to wipe myself after using the bathroom. I will have to ask someone else to do all that for me.

Quinn says that this will train me to resist the desire to seek pleasure for myself. He hasn't told me how long this restraint will last, only that I will be this way long enough to learn that I don't need release, ever. This is not what I envisioned when I made myself his slave. I had visions of being used for sex over and over again, giving and receiving pleasure equally. I guess I'm learning better. I won't be able to journal again until he releases me from my bondage. This will be so hard.

August 27, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I'm not sure where to start. I'm not the same woman I was three weeks ago. For three long weeks, I've been unable to do anything for myself. The feelings of helplessness have been nearly overwhelming. Quinn hasn't touched me sexually during this entire time. He has made me watch him masturbate. Each time, it leaves me in tears. Being ignored by him, sexually, has been even worse than having to have him or Bonita wipe my ass every time I have to use the toilet.

But that all ended today. My hands are still tied to my neck, but he fucked me this morning. He was so fast that I didn't cum, but he fucked me! I was in tears, tears of happiness. My punishment is over, and it has had the effect I think he was looking for. I want to serve him so much more than I did. I can feel my body's need for sexual release, but it seems so unimportant to me now. I want to see him happy. I think I understand what he was asking me for when he asked me to be his slave.

It wasn't about more intense domination and submission play. It was about a fundamental change in our relationship. I didn't get it then. I think I do now. All I should care about is what he wants. My wishes are not important. What's more, I don't want them to be. Over these past three weeks, I've come to the conclusion that I really want what he wants from me. I want him to be the center of my life, the reason for my existence. I know that some would be shocked and horrified by this. But, every time I've let go of what I desire, everything has been so much easier.

I know that I will screw up again. I'm only human. I hope he punishes me severely every time I do. I want to reach the place where my every action is based on what will make Quinn happy. There will be times, I suspect, when I will rebel. I hope he is harsh with me when I do. I don't want to fail him again.

August 31, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Today has been very frustrating. Quinn woke me up by putting those nipple clamps on my tits. I discovered that he had tied me spread eagle while I was sleeping. Once I was awake, he took a riding crop and started whipping me with it. This is the first time he has inflicted pain on me before breakfast. He worked me over very methodically, covering every inch of my body, except my face, with little red marks. Only when he finished did he let me up to use the toilet. Once that was done, he tied me face down and repeated the process on my backside. Needless to say, I was in tears most of the time.

I was also very aroused. He did not fuck me then, but took me to the dining room for breakfast. Bonita looked uneasy at the plethora of whip marks on my body and the streaks of tears on my face. I tried to smile at her to let her know that I was not only all right, but all right with what was happening. I'm not sure she believed what I was trying to convey. The fact that Quinn ordered me to stay silent all day did not help.

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