Island Slave Ch. 04

May 10, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Quinn returned today. It was fabulous. He took me to the dungeon and tied me to the cross. For hours he used whips and paddles on me, making me scream in wonderful agony. I was sobbing uncontrollably long before he finished. My back is beet red and feels like it's on fire. My cunt is also sore and leaking cum. He fucked me on that cross four times, I think. I had at least one orgasm each time. I'm exhausted, but happy. Waiting is definitely better than disobeying.

Today is the first time I've felt fully his in months. It seems that the more he treats me like a toy to bring him pleasure, the more fulfilled I feel. I can just imagine how my family would react if they were reading this journal. "Melanie, get out. He's abusing you and will end up killing you if you stay." They just would not understand. This is what I was meant to be. I will never leave him, ever.

June 1, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I think I found what I'm looking for on the web. There's a blog that is jointly written by a slave and her Master. They talk quite openly about their activities, thoughts and emotions as master and slave. There was a lot of stuff they have written over the last two years of their journal. There are even pictures, though none show faces that aren't blurred out. She really lets him do anything he wants. Many of the things he does are not things she enjoys.

For example, she writes that she hates anal sex. She says that it is painful and gross, yet when he orders her to submit to it, she does, crying the whole time. He even forces her to suck his cock clean after he has fucked her ass. That sounds so disgusting, yet, when I read about it and imagine that Quinn is forcing me in the same way, I just juice up and find myself incredibly aroused.

The Master has marked his slave as his own. She has a couple of tattoos that show his ownership as well as piercings on her nipples and pussy lips. Their latest entry talks about his plan to have a piercing put in her clit hood. Just the thought of it makes my knees weak. Having my clit stimulated 24 hours a day would be so intense. She has truly given her body to him with no reservations. I want to give Quinn my body the same way. I will be spending quite a while trying to read about their relationship from the beginning.

June 15, 1995

Dear Betsy,

This slavery journal I'm reading is very...I don't know what to call it. I've gone back to their first posts. They started it about three months after they started living as master and slave. I guess they agreed to a three month trial period first and now have gone to something more permanent. After they had gone permanent for a month, he did something to make sure she knew just how much a slave she was. He brought three men home with him and let them use her as a sex toy.

Her recounting of that was fascinating reading. She describes how desperately she didn't want to obey him and how she pleaded on her knees, in tears, to be spared that fate. He refused to relent. The only requirements he put on the men were that they had to use condoms if they fucked her and he had to be present. The three men spent the next four hours using her sexually in every conceivable way. She was fucked in all three of her holes. They all spanked her with their hands and a paddle. She was tied up in a wide variety of positions. Her master even saved all five of the condoms they used and fed the contents to her at the end.

She wrote that she was in tears afterwards for hours from the shame and humiliation. She also said that she had never felt more his than she had before. The event made her slavery so real to her, that being lent out to total strangers like she was some object was such a turn on for her. I was thoroughly wet by the time I had finished reading the account. I wish Quinn would do something like that with me, make me feel that used. Maybe he could give me to some of the plantation workers as a reward for good work? That sounds so degrading and hot.

June 27, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I'm about a year into that web journal I found. He gave her to others again, only this time, they were people she knew that did not know she was living as a slave until that day. He sprang it on everyone during a get together on a Saturday. In the middle of the barbeque, he ordered her to strip, in front of everyone. When she balked at the order, he swatted her ass and commanded her to, "Strip your sorry ass, slave!" Needless to say, everyone was shocked by the way he treated her, no less by her obedience.

He then explained, with her kneeling naked at his feet, that they had been living as Master and slave for over a year and he wanted their best friends to know the truth. I guess that there was total silence at first. No doubt! Then one of the women there (there were two couples present) asked if it was really true that she would do anything he commanded. He proved it by ordering her to masturbate in front of everyone, holding none of her reactions in check. With tears in her eyes, she slowly aroused herself, then, with increasing passion, hurled herself towards an orgasm.

He ordered her to stop, just short of orgasm. There she was, dripping, flushed and on the edge in front of their two best friend couples. She describes just how mortified she was at the sight she was presenting. Then he told the couples that she would even submit to a spanking for his pleasure. He ordered her over his lap, locking his legs around hers so that she could not wriggle loose. I guess one of the ladies asked why she was allowing him to do this. Through her tears, she said, "Because I love him and want him to be happy. I am his to do with as he pleases and if I'm not making him happy, then I'm not happy."

That describes my feelings so well! That's exactly what I want with Quinn. Anyway, he then spanked her until her ass was a bright shade of red. Then he offered to let any of the four guests spank her as well! One of the men took him up on it right away. She had to crawl on her hands and knees and drape herself over that lap. His swats were not as hard as her master's, but she felt them, through her shame, just as much. Then, to her surprise, one of the women said she wanted to.

She had never been with a woman, sexually, before. Crawling to that lap was the hardest thing she ever had to do. When the woman started, her hand actually hit harder than her master's hands had. The woman also went longer. She was sobbing uncontrollably by the time the woman stopped. Then the woman went even farther. She started feeling her pussy and commenting on how wet she was. The woman took her to the edge of orgasm and kept up a running commentary the whole time.

The second man also spanked her, though not for long. She had the impression he was uncomfortable with inflicting pain on her. The second woman took her and her master by surprise and asked if she could have her pussy eaten out by the slave. It turned out that this couple was into threesomes and had, in the past, taken other men and women into their bed. The master gave his okay and the woman pulled her dress up and her panties down. The slave crawled over and licked at the woman's cunt. The husband had his face right in there, directing her as to what things his wife liked the best.

She described how humiliating it was to have a man tell her how to go down on his own wife. The man's hands roamed over her body, keeping her aroused as well. Part way through the pussy licking, the man went behind her and started fucking her pussy (the couples were such good friends that no one was worried about diseases). The slave described how that is when she passed beyond simple humiliation at what was happening to her, to deep mortification at how she was responding to it. She was thrusting back against the husband while she licked at the cunt with an enthusiasm that shocked her. During the whole process, her Master kept her from experiencing an orgasm, going so far as to have the husband stop the fucking until she calmed down a bit. The husband and wife reached their orgasms almost simultaneously, each leaving their juices on her body for all to see. Her Master forbade her to clean it up.

The rest of the day, she served the five as a slave, obeying every order (most were non-sexual) with evidence of her sexual use displayed on her body. By the time the day was over, both men and the one woman had used her for sexual gratification more than once. The last woman, apparently with no same sex leanings at all, simply fingered her to the brink of climax several times. The day ended with her kissing the feet of the guests and pleading for permission to have an orgasm. By a three to one vote, she was allowed to orgasm, so long as it was in front of everyone (the one who kept fingering her voted no, apparently enjoying the torture she was inflicting). By then, she was so desperate that she didn't even think of being seen, but plunged her hands between her legs and jacked herself off, screaming unabashedly in pleasure.

The slave writing the journal went on to describe how much more she felt her slavery after that. Simply knowing that she could and would be passed around to others, that there was nothing left of her modesty and privacy, reinforced how much she was his, completely and utterly. That's what I want! I want to feel that owned, to feel utterly helpless and exposed, totally his to do with as he pleases. I shudder when I think of having my slavery revealed to total strangers and made to satisfy them. At the same time, I am finding that I crave this public use. I find myself dreaming about being taken into the village, collared and on a leash, for everyone to see my fate. I imagine Quinn giving me to his workers to be used as they wish and I cream my cunt while I'm shivering in fear and humiliation. I'm tempted to ask Quinn for this. I need it.

July 12, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I told Quinn about the journal I've been reading. He thought that reading it was a good idea, that it might help me be a better slave. When I asked him what he meant, he told me that he wants more form me as a slave. My heart leapt at that. I want to give him more in my slavery as well! Then I asked him what more of me he wanted. He told me that he wanted me to be proactive, to anticipate his needs and desires. A good slave obeys her Master. A great slave gives her Master what he wants before he can ask for it.

I've thought of doing that in the past, but have been afraid of Quinn becoming angry for my taking liberties with the freedoms he allows me. I explained that and he simply told me that I shouldn't be. If I do something he doesn't like, then I will be punished, but I should not shy away from things because I might be punished. After all, there is a difference between how I will be punished for doing something displeasing and for disobeying.

Looking back, that seems true. In fact, there are times when I think the things that "displease" him are more for him to have an excuse for whipping me, though Lord knows that he doesn't need an excuse for that. The few times that I have disobeyed him resulted in to worst things I can imagine as punishments. I promised that I would try to anticipate his desires and act on what I thought he wanted.

I also asked about being passed around and used by others. He was so angry at the thought. He yelled that I was his and that I was never going to be used by anyone but him. This is not something I expected from him. I know that Quinn used to pick up women from every cruise ship for sex. Somehow I thought that made him willing to show me off, much like a child shows off a new toy. I guess I was wrong. It's kind of sad, actually. Ever since reading about it in the journal, I have been fantasizing about just that. I feel like a part of my slavery has been cut off from me, that I'm not fully his if he can't brag about owning me.

August 2, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I'm scared. There was a new posting in that journal I'm reading. The Master took her to the shop where they have had tattoos and piercings done before. This time, however, he didn't have her tattooed or pierced. He had her branded! The slave is an incredibly good writer and her descriptions made me feel like I was there. She said the pain was worse than any whipping or beating she had ever endured in the past.

They strapped her to a table like they usually do when she is being marked for him. The gag, however was new. It was much like a bit for a horse, only thicker. It forced her tongue down while holding her teeth apart. Only then did they bring the branding iron out. It wasn't like a cattle brand, an iron symbol that was heated to glowing. It was more like a soldering iron, electric powered with a tip that glowed. When she saw it, she started to struggle and plead through her gag.

Her Master had given her no warning that this was coming. They let her struggle until all her resistance was gone. Then her Master told her that it was going to happen. The only choice she had was whether to prolong it or not. They added straps to her leg (it was going on the inside of her thigh) to hold her leg totally still. Plastic had been placed under her ass and pulled over her torso. The woman who was doing the work sat down between the slave's widely spread legs and literally wrote the brand with the branding iron.

The slave said she screamed louder and longer than she ever had before. She lost control and soiled herself on the plastic sheet. She kept wishing to pass out, but didn't for whatever reason. The smell of her own flesh burning made her sick to her stomach, though she managed not to throw up. After that, everything was a haze for the slave. She doesn't remember any of the care afterwards, just a blur of pain and tears. When she went home, she was cleaned up, so someone must have cleaned up the mess she made.

As much as she hated being branded, she said that nothing has made her feel more like his property that that experience. She could never have brought herself to ask for it, but she would never give it back, if she could. I get the feeling that she is fulfilled in some way, that this has made her a complete woman.

What frightens me is my own reaction. I want to be branded. There, I've said it. Being marked like that, such a permanent thing, I find that I crave it with a hunger that is overwhelming. Yet, it frightens me. It is so permanent. You can remove a tattoo and a piercing. You can't take a brand off. And I find that I don't want to be able to take Quinn's ownership off of me. I want his mark in such a way that it will be forever.

This is what I'm frightened of.

August 12, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I am still haunted by the desire to be branded. I haven't told Quinn about it. Given how opposed he is to exposing my slavery to others, taking me to be branded won't sit well with him. In spite of the brutality that he uses when he whips me, Quinn is a very sensitive person. I don't think he would do anything that would truly hurt me. Yes, he gives me pain, but that is not hurting, not really. I find I want the pain. It makes me feel my slavery and intensifies my orgasms.

Quinn's birthday is coming up soon. Well, a couple of months from now. I want to give him something for his birthday and I think I've figured out what. One of the links on that journal is to a fetish artist. He paints. He specializes in portraits of people in fetish and bondage gear. I've e-mailed him and asked if he would be willing to travel here and paint a portrait of me. At the end of every September, Quinn goes on a business trip to arrange buyers for the cigars. Mr. Leoni has agreed to fly out when Quinn is gone and paint the picture.

Paying him will be a little tricky. I don't have access to money any more. I generally don't want it either. It would detract from my slavery. I do need to pay him, though. I've offered him a compromise. I will let him paint three more pictures of me in addition to the one I will keep. He is free to sell those pictures himself to recoup his loss from me not being able to pay him.

August 15, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Steven wrote back. He accepted my proposal and will fly out the same day that Quinn leaves. I am so excited about being able to give Quinn such a wonderful gift. I checked with Quinn's schedule and he leaves on the 25th of September and will be gone for 12 days.

September 4, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Yesterday was my birthday. Last year, Quinn gave me earrings. It was kind of silly. I don't think he thought much about how little reason there is to wear them. This year, he asked what I wanted for my birthday. I told him I wanted to spend the entire time I was awake in the dungeon being used by him or suffering pain for him. He made both of us go without sex for an entire week before the day.

I woke up to a belt landing on my ass and the burning pain of being spanked. He pulled me out of bed by my hair and dragged me to the dungeon. I was bound over a padded saw horse and whipped with a cat for I don't know how long. Afterwards, he fucked me hard and left me hanging without a climax after he came in my cunt. Then he put weighted clamps on my nipples and left me there while he went to breakfast.

When he returned, he pulled the clamps off. He didn't take them off, he pulled them off while they still grabbed my tits. The pain as they pinched less and less of the nipple was excruciating. Once they were off, he took me off the horse and hung me from the ceiling with me legs locked apart by spreader bar that was anchored to the floor. After putting a blindfold on me, he took a leather strap, I think, to my entire body, from just below my neck to my ankles. By the time he was done, I was sobbing like a baby.

It continued like that for the entire day. I was forced to relieve myself into a bucket while he watched. I was not allowed to eat anything the entire day. He bound me to every device in the dungeon and used every one of the implements we own. At one point, he used a vibrator on me until I had cum seven times. My clit was so sore that the last couple of orgasms were agonizing.

Each of my holes was fucked at least twice, though he came only four times. One of the mouth fucks was after he took my ass first, forcing me to taste myself. Both times in my mouth, he kept forcing his cock into my throat so I couldn't breath. One of those times, he came while he was lodged between my tonsils.

Today, except for my neck, head, and the soles of my feet, I am a solid mass of purple and red. Everything aches and it only gets worse when I move anything. This was the best birthday present ever.

September 25, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Steven Leoni arrived today. His plane flew in two hours after Quinn's had left. We will start the first painting tomorrow. Today, we talked about what I want in the painting I am going to keep. I want to be bound and recently whipped, looking over my shoulder at Quinn. I'm hoping to be able to convey my desire for and pleasure at suffering under his hands.

He will need to take the whip to me. Steven was not ready for that part. The only person here that can apply the whipping is him. I certainly can't ask Juan or Carlos to whip me! They are upset enough that I invited someone here without Quinn knowing. Fortunately, Mr. Leoni has some experience with BDSM and knows what to do. In some respects, this will be much like Quinn having lent me out.

September 26, 1995

Dear Betsy,

I spent the entire day tied to the whipping post. Mr. Leoni did not whip me terribly hard, which caused him to have to whip me several times as the marks faded too fast. I think it helped with my look. I could tell he had an erection and wanted to do more with me than simply paint me. Down here in the dungeon, bound as I was, I couldn't have stopped him. I didn't think of that in my desire to give Quinn the perfect gift. Steven will be binding me three more times for his own pictures.