Island Slave Ch. 04

The rest of the day was one of constant unpleasantness. If I wasn't bound in some painful contortion, I was being struck with one of his many tools for inflicting pain. I had no idea that one could experience such constant pain without passing out. Even when Quinn had sex with me, it was painful, since those welts don't stop hurting just because he stopped whipping me. He never let me cum, either. I found myself on my knees at the end of the day pleading with my eyes for release. I find that begging is what I hate the most about being a slave. When we were just playing BDSM, I knew that I would get off on it by the time we were done. Now, he let's me go unsatisfied for days at a time. I've cried myself to sleep in his arms from the frustration. I'll probably do that again tonight.

September 2, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I spent the entire day in the new dungeon yesterday. Where yesterday was a constant barrage of little pains, today was incredibly harsh. I spent a good part of the day on that cross shaped thing that he called a Saint Andrew's Cross. He whipped me over and over with great force. I was sobbing uncontrollably for hours, it seemed. Then he would fuck me while I was still on the cross and leave me there with his cum running down my legs. The only time I was not in that dungeon was when I had to use the bathroom.

Between each session under the whip, he was more gentle than I've ever seen him before. He would put a soothing ointment on my new welts and massage my arms and legs as they tried to cramp from being stretched so much for so long. I was not allowed to eat all day. It's just as well, I suspect. I doubt I could have kept anything down with all the intense pain I was put through.

The last whipping was with a new device, a thin bamboo cane. I can't believe how much it hurt! I was screaming at the top of my lungs with tears flowing down my face. I was truly trying to get away from that wicked thing and the agony it caused. I passed out from it. When I came to, I was in the bed, on my belly. Quinn was rubbing more ointment into my back and legs. Once he knew I was awake, he told me how proud he was and how much he loved me.

Never before has someone's words meant so much to me. I made him proud! He was happy with me. Any pain would be worth that feeling. His hands slipped between my legs and rubbed my pussy. I moaned and spread my legs for him. He caressed and fondled my cunt, bringing my body to a quivering mass of desire. When he penetrated me with a finger, I came, shuddering on the bed and soaking his hand with my juices. He told me to remain still and took me again, not just once, but many more times. By the time he stopped, I had cum so many times that I had exhausted myself.

September 23, 1994

Dear Betsy,

The last few weeks have been pretty normal. It still seems strange to think of spankings, collars and bondage as normal, but that's where I am right now. There has been nothing incredibly painful since the day in the dungeon at the beginning of the month. I find that I'm looking forward to the next session of intense pain. I guess I'm becoming kind of a pain slut.

I had a talk with Bonita a few days ago. It has been really hard for her to see me in the wrecked state Quinn leaves me in when we have those monster scenes. She struggles with accepting that what Quinn does to me is not abuse. I discovered that she has secreted my old clothes and ID away so that I can still leave when I want to. I tried to explain that I won't ever want to. This life I have now, as Quinn's slave and fuck toy, is what I want more than anything. I actually feel incredible fulfillment after a session of hard use and abuse. As I lay in bed with my backside or breasts throbbing in agony, I can only smile at how much Quinn is showing me that he loves me. It's hard to fathom that I was so scared of this when he first asked me. My only fear now is that he will tire of this and stop using me, stop owning me.

Bonita told me that she is frightened for me. She has noticed that Quinn has become harsher with me than when we started. There are more welts being given to me more frequently than three months ago. Her mouth hung open when I smiled at that. I asked her if she noticed anything else about Quinn over the last few months. She admitted that he seemed so much happier than he had been before, even during our first year. She also admitted, when I pressed her, that I seemed happier as well. I confirmed that for her. I am happier now than I ever have been in the past.

I don't know if she understands, but I think she believes me. Bonita is incredibly loyal to Quinn. She's been with his family for three generations now. I do appreciate her concern. The only thing that keeps what I experience from being abuse, is the fact that I truly want this and that it fulfills some need inside of me.

September 27, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Quinn is away on another business trip. He expects to be gone for over a week. I'm not supposed to masturbate while he is gone. The memory of my last failure is still fresh in my mind. I have no intention of failing him this time.

September 29, 1994

Dear Betsy,

This is not good. The last cruise ship of the season stopped by several days ago. Today, we received word that one of the passengers who visited Crisobos is showing signs of measles. His visit was during the contagious period. It turns out that most of those on the island have never had measles. Everyone has been quarantined and there is a palpable fear running through the mansion. Adult measles is nothing to laugh about. The only modern medicine we have access to is the doctors who visit from the ships.

I am one of only three adults that have had measles in the past and are thus immune. It doesn't help that a local bug is already going around, weakening everyone's immune systems. If this hits as hard as I expect it to, people may die. The problem is that anyone who has caught it has already had a chance to spread it while not showing symptoms. All we can do now is wait and pray.

October 1, 1994

Dear Betsy,

It has started. The first cases of measles have shown themselves. I've retrieved the clothes that Bonita saved for me and drove Quinn's truck into the village. I don't have a lot of medical training, but I do remember how to deal with measles, one of the advantages of having contracted it as a teen. There is no one else who can go from hut to hut safely. Thank God that they already know about washing and other sanitation issues. I don't want anyone to die.

October 7, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I'm so tired. There are 37 people with measles, 12 of them adults. The adults are suffering far worse than the children. One died last night. He was so hot that he tried to cool off in the ocean and was swept out to sea because he was too exhausted to fight the currents. I know I can't be awake all the time, but I feel like I should have been awake for him. Entire families are sick, the parents refusing to be separated from their sick kids and becoming sick themselves. The only bright side is that there have been no new cases in the last three days. If only these will survive.

October 17, 1994

Dear Betsy,

I guess the epidemic is over. I didn't see the end. Quinn tells me that I ran myself ragged and managed to catch that local bug myself, though it was not measles. I am told that I spent three days asleep and feverish. I'm weak right now. I do remember that a ship showed up at the end, something from the US Navy. They had doctors and supplies to try to save as many as they could. I'm told that only three more adults died and none of the children.

It was apparently, touch and go for me as well. That local bug is normally harmless, but hit me like a freight train because I had weakened myself. I will be weak for another few weeks and Quinn refuses to use me for anything except ordinary sex while I'm on the mend. I had to beg for the sex, as it was. I am not going another three or four weeks without sex!

November 21, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Between healing and the run into the holiday season, I've been busy. I am still Quinn's slave and he has returned to using me as such, though there has been nothing harsh since the epidemic. They don't celebrate Thanksgiving on the island, but they have their own festival about the same time to celebrate the end of hurricane season. There will be a party and lots of food. This year will be more subdued, as they remember those who died from the measles.

I've gotten used to being naked in front of others. I know it's been that way for months, but today, we had a visitor and I was blithely unaware of my nudity until I noticed her reaction. The look on her face was simply precious. When Quinn explained that I was his willing slave, she became mesmerized by me. The party was very enjoyable, though there was one small disappointment.

The woman, her name was Grace, managed to corner the two of us a little before midnight. She asked Quinn if she could take me to bed. She was fascinated by the idea of someone with whom she could do anything she wanted. I could not believe my reaction. I'm not a lesbian. I've never felt any sexual desire for another woman. Yet, when she asked, my pussy went wet instantly and my nipples hardened. Quinn's refusal was so disheartening.

I thought about it as the party continued and I think I understand what I was feeling. I can't imagine anything that would make me feel more like a slave than being passed on to another person to be used for their pleasure. When Quinn refused, I felt less a slave. I know it makes me sound degenerate, but I want to be shared, to be commanded to please others. I wish he had said yes, made me do something that I don't have a desire for.

December 15, 1994

Dear Betsy,

While they don't celebrate Thanksgiving on the island, Christmas is a very big deal here. I'm not the most religious person in the world. Hell, I'm not religious at all. I don't believe in God, not really. Nothing more than the prayer tossed heavenward when things aren't going well. Quinn and the staff though, are believers. You can tell if you spend any time with them at all. Christmas istheholiday of holidays here.

The mansion has been a flurry of activity. Quinn hasn't used me much in the last couple of weeks. He has been flying in and out, bringing a lot of supplies back to the mansion. I've been helping him wrap a horde of presents. I think he has purchased something for everyone in the village, even the children. There's nothing really expensive. Quinn says that many of the villagers would take expensive gifts as an insult. They are very proud people. I remember that from when I first arrived here.

I wish I could give him something for Christmas. Part of being a slave, however, is that I don't own anything and can't buy anything. I'm going to have to give it some thought. What can a slave give her Master when he already owns everything about her? That is the $64 question.

December 24, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Quinn was crying tonight. I've never seen him cry and it scared me. He was also in the library. I've never seen him in the library. He showed it to me the day I arrived. He said it was his mother's. She was a voracious reader. I love books myself, but read slowly. I tried to encourage him to share his feelings and thoughts. He wouldn't share. He had a book in his hand, but I could not see the title. I love him so much, it hurts to see him hurting this way. I missed this last year. He flew me to St. Croix so that I could visit family for the holidays.

I snuck in after he was asleep and looked for the book. At first, I couldn't find it. It seemed to not be there at all. Then I found the hidden space. The book was a diary. That's why I recognized it, or at least thought I did. It was written by Quinn's mother. I couldn't help myself, I read it. It was less a diary than a composition book. She wrote poetry, beautiful poetry. Quinn's mom was one of those authors who can pull at heart strings with a single word or phrase.

I think she might have killed herself. Towards the end of the book she was writing some pretty sad stuff. Something had left her life, something or someone that was the center of her existence. The weird part is that I think Quinn left her. That doesn't make sense though. Quinn is alive. He may not like it, but I'm going to ask Bonita and Juan about Mystique. They have to know something, they have been with the family for decades.

December 30, 1994

Dear Betsy,

Christmas was wonderful. Quinn gave me lovely new collar and cuffs. They're made of alloyed silver and have his name inscribed on them. That night he took me to the dungeon and whipped me for hours, using a crop, paddle and a whip. I was sobbing uncontrollably for most of the night. He fucked me several times as well, making my hurting legs and back feel even worse as he slammed into them. He also made me cum at least three times. There may have been more, but things became a little fuzzy after a while. I haven't written about it until now because I was too sore to sit at the desk.

I am still amazed at times by how much I crave his hard use of me. It's a sign of how much he loves me. I want more, so much more from him. I want to give him so much more. I'm not sure what more I have to give him. I never managed to find something I could give him for Christmas. My life feels so complete, yet there is something missing. I don't know what it is.

January 2, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I've done it now. Quinn is furious. I asked Bonita about Mystique. She told me that she died of cancer. I guess she knew she had it for a while before she died. Quinn was gone from the island when she worsened and died. Bonita said that they had had an argument and he flew off in a huff, staying away for two months. When he came back, she was gone. For over a year, Quinn was inconsolable.

I guess Quinn heard the tail end of Bonita telling me. I've never seen him so mad before. The worst part was how he treated Bonita. The foul things he said to her and the way she stood there, unresponsive, was terrifying. I haven't seen him since then. He told me that I was to sleep in the second bedroom from now on. He has ignored me ever since. I may have ruined everything.

January 15, 1995

Dear Betsy,

After two weeks, Quinn finally took me back to his bed. He tied me down, gagged me and fucked me repeatedly. Afterwards, he took a whip to me, lashing my breasts, belly and legs until they were a solid mass of red. I could tell he was trying to purge the anger towards me from his system. I'm making myself write this even though it hurts so much.

After he whipped me, he collapsed on the bed in tears. I think he hurt more than I did. He cried himself to sleep while I was still bound. I couldn't sleep, I hurt too much and my limbs were trying to cramp. He woke up a few hours later and released me. We talked for quite some time. He shared about his mom, reading many of the poems. He has been carrying a lot of guilt around. I guess his last words to her were, "I hate you." I can't imagine how hard that must have been to bear all these years.

He promised to tell me more, to help me get to know this important woman in his life. I wonder what she would think of his keeping me as a slave, albeit a willing one?

March 27, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I know it has been a long time since I wrote last, but there hasn't been a lot to write about. After the incident with his mom, Quinn and I have been back to normal. He whips me regularly, fucks me a lot and keeps me naked all the time. I hate to say it, but I'm feeling bored. Is it possible to be bored with slavery? I would not have thought so.

Part of it is something I wrote about earlier. There is so much more I want to give Quinn. I just don't know what it could be. I can't shake the feeling that there is some part of me that is not fully his, yet there is nothing that he does not control in my life. He tells me what to do, when to do it and I don't have any right to question him. He has made me shave my pussy. I don't wear clothes unless he tells me to (when he does, they are the most naughty things!). I wish I could figure out what it is.

There is one new thing to tell you. We bought a computer today! I know, being without a computer in 1995 is like being without a TV in 1960. It has only been in the last year that reliable electricity from the generator station that Mystic Cruises built for the villagers has been available. Now we have internet access and modern record keeping software. With my knowledge of computers and their applications, I am in charge of keeping the books and teaching Quinn how to as well. I wonder if I can convince him to buy any games?

April 20, 1995

Dear Betsy,

This has been a busy month. All the records for the plantation are now on the computer. Or at least the current ones are. Neither of us feels there is much to be gained from putting the past data on disk. Quinn is a quick study and can run the software almost as well as I can. I understand now, just how he can support his lifestyle on the small crops the plantation produces. People pay top dollar for the cigars that are produced here. When I first arrived, Quinn told me that they are as good as Cubans, but I had no idea what that meant in terms of money. Quinn's not a millionaire, but he is comfortably well off.

I also found a web site that is about voluntary slavery. I plan to do some reading now that I'm not so overwhelmed with the computer things. I had no idea that others were also into this life that we live. Maybe they can tell me what I'm missing, why it seems like Quinn doesn't have all of me. I hope so.

May 3, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Quinn has left on another trip. He takes these every so often to pick up supplies for the mansion. He expects to be away for a week. He has ordered me not to masturbate again. After the pain of disappointing him the first time he ordered this, I think I'm going to be able to resist the temptation this time. I miss him when he's gone. It's not just the sex, though he uses me for sex almost every day and whips me in some way at least twice a week. When he is gone, it's like the center of my world has left. He's everything to me and it's painful to be apart from him.

That slavery web site I found is fascinating. There are articles by Masters and slaves about how they live in this kind of relationship. It's a little confusing, though. Some of the articles contradict each other. Slaves should always be collared. Slaves should be kept naked. Slaves should wear provocative clothes. Masters should always be called Master. Slaves should call Masters what ever they want. Slaves should only do what they are told. Slaves should anticipate their Master's needs. It's like no one can agree what it means to be a slave.

Some of the people that contribute to the site can be pretty vehement about what's right and wrong. I've seen some awfully venomous diatribes flying back and forth. No one seems to want to just talk about slavery and how to be a slave. While it is interesting there, I need to find a friendlier place. There are several links on the site. I'll start following them and see what turns up.

May 9, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Quinn will be back tomorrow. I've stayed obedient this time. I can't wait for him to return. I need him to use me, to make me feel like a slave again. When he's gone, I feel like I'm free. I know I'm still his slave, after all, I'm still naked, wearing a collar and can't masturbate. It's just that his presence, his demands of me help me feel so subservient. He is my master and I am his slave. This is more than just a statement of what is going on, it is becoming the entirety of my existence.

This slave web site search has been an exercise in frustration. Every site seems to advocate one true way to live as slave and Master. Yet, they seem to disagree all the time. I just want to know why I feel like there's a part of me that is not Quinn's. I want to be entirely his, mind body and soul. What is missing? What have I not given him? I need to know.