Prisoner of the Island

by Terri Pray

  On your back, my slut. Spread your thighs and play for me. Touch yourself. Arouse yourself. I'm watching you. Pain and pleasure will be yours this night.

  “Yes, Master.” She whispered the words and eased onto her back, parting her thighs. She pressed her heels into the bedding, looking up at him. The first stinging touch came without warning. A slap between her thighs that stung against one inner thigh, then the next, triggering a fresh wave of warmth through her being.

  She whimpered, her hips rolling, inner walls tight and slick. The last man to enter her body had been Shaun, the Captain of the ship. Now he was gone.

  I'm here. I'll always be here. You can't escape me, Celeste. I'm burned into your soul.

  Imprinted into the depths of her heart and mind alike, no matter what she did she would never be truly free of him and a part of her didn't want to escape him. She accepted that now, what other choice did she have but to accept it?

  None whatsoever if she wanted to hold onto any shred of sanity she might have left.

  Sanity is overrated my slave. We both know that.

  Yes, she did. A smile claimed her lips as she lay there, her thighs parted, hips lifted, her core fully exposed to his view. He could do anything to her that he wanted, desired, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She belonged to him, she had since the moment he had taken her from the road. When he'd claimed her as a piece of meat for his amusement and changed her world for the rest of her life.

  Play for me. Touch yourself little slave.

  Her hand slipped between her thighs, cupping her mound fully. Heat and desire rocked through her being under the light touch.

  You want this, don't you?

  “Yes, Master.” She whispered, watching him. His dark gaze lingered on her body, taking in every inch of her naked flesh. “I miss you.”

  Of course you do. You belong to me. It doesn't feel right when you're apart from me.

  She couldn't argue that, ever since she'd run from him her life had gone from bad to worse. Not completely, but in some respects. No sex. No real sex at least. Just a time where she'd had to be in charge of a few men, or women, dominate them and then move on. This time she had a chance to enjoy pleasure for herself, not for someone else.

  No, not for yourself, for me, you're a slave, what you do is for me, not yourself.

  She wasn't about to argue that one with him, not when her body hummed at the thought of just how deeply he owned her. She'd never find a way to break free of him and in truth, she didn't want to.

  Press your fingers against your clit, touch yourself, stroke your body for me.

  She whimpered stroking her clit gently, circling the tight nub with her finger. Celeste groaned, biting into her bottom lip, holding it tight. Easy, she needed to go easy, let the pleasure build, let her body set the pace so he could enjoy every move her body made.

  Celeste gasped, her body jolting on the bed, the sudden slap across her erect nipples catching her off guard. Her gaze focused on his face, meeting his, fear clenched about her heart, her finger never ceasing in its subtle, tender caress of her clit. Why had he struck her?

  Why do I ever do this, because it pleases me to do so of course. Don't stop little slave, play, work your body, wait for the next blow, the next rush of pain, you know it's coming don't you...

  Yes, she did. He'd tease her, make her scream and beg until she finally came in a shuddering rush of delight and humiliation all rolled into one. And yet that still wasn't enough to stop her fingers dancing over her throbbing clit.

  Let it go, give into the hunger little slut.

  Slut, slave, whore, he'd called her all of that and more over the time he'd held her, claimed her as his own. She could hear his voice, the words repeated over and over again in the back of her mind. His.

  Her body tightened. Slick heat coated her inner walls. Her body ached for his touch, for the pain and pleasure that he offered her, but for now he didn't reach out for her to touch her again. Not now at least. Her finger circled her clit, teasing it again and again.

  She swallowed hard, trying to control her reactions. It didn't matter what he wanted. She was doing this for herself, not for him, never for him again.

  You're lying to yourself, slave.

  “Yes, Master.” Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, her bottom lip quivering. She knew just what he expected of her, how she was supposed to touch herself now. He wouldn't say it, knowing she knew the punishment ahead of her if she didn't obey the rules. Begging for mercy wouldn't work, he knew none, that wasn't a part of his life. Disobeying him would only bring her pain, real pain, when he found out just how she was willing to break her training.

  He was waiting. He sat there waiting for her to continue to pleasure her body in front of him. She looked away from him, trying to find a moment of strength then cried out in pain, his fingers tangled in her hair as he yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him.

  Don't play games with me, unless you want to face the consequences.

  She whimpered, making no effort to hide the fear that gripped her completely. “I'm sorry, Master. Please.”

  Finish what you started.

  What other choice did she have?

  She groaned, her hips rolling deeper with each new stroke. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. Her breasts tightened, nipples hard, hungry points on her full mounds. Loose hair fell over her body and still she caressed her heated flesh. Pressure rippled through her core, into her cunt, through her being. She couldn't stop it now, not even when he leaned down and slapped her taut nipples. She cried out, tensing, heels digging into the bed, her eyes wild as she looked directly at him.

  Not yet, hold onto it. You're not ready yet.

  “Please, let me come, Master.” Ready, her body was so ready now. How could he think otherwise? He didn't, he wanted to torture her with the knowledge that everything she did, everything she wanted, came only at his whim.

  That's exactly how it works and you've always known it. Fight it all you wish, Celeste, my bold, brazen little slave, but you are property and as such subject to my whim.

  “Please, don't do this to me, Master.”

  It amuses me.

  Her body tightened further, she couldn't control it much longer, but what other choice did she have?

  None at all.

  “I'm begging you, Master. Please. Let me come. I need to come.” She all but screamed the words.

  Come for me, slave!

  Her body reacted before her mind had the chance to process the words. It rolled through her body. She cried out, her muscles tightening, hips lifting from the bed. Sweat coated her flesh as pleasure, pain and fear combined into one wave of delight. There was no end in sight, she rolled, cried out, screamed and sobbed before she collapsed onto the bed. Reality shifted. She knew he wasn't there, she'd known all the way through, but for a moment she felt him. Truly felt him there in the room with her.

  His touch against her breasts, his fingertips moving slowly over her naked flesh until he circled her throat with one hand, his word a whisper spoken but a breath from her lips. Mine.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You've not graced the hall with your presence for a few days, Celeste. Could it be that my words hit home with you and you decided to hide from me?” Steven moved behind her, his voice low as he rested one hand on her waist.

  “Do you make a habit of touching women who don't wish your attention, Steven?” Celeste turned and stepped to one side, moving out of his grasp.

  “Only when I know they're lying to themselves about what they truly want.” Steven took a step back, but only so he could look her in the eyes. “We need to talk, Celeste, before this spirals out of control.”

  “And why would it do that?”

  “Because a need denied will eventually force you to take risks, dangerous steps to find a way to answer the hunger in your body.” Steven kept his voice soft and low, a dark caress that tempted her.

  The time in her room with
her imagination had only added to the need. It hadn't silenced or sated it. Nothing she tried, or came up with, had done that. Was he right after all? Could she be setting herself up for a fall in the hardest of ways?

  It wasn't a pleasant thought.

  “I can see the doubt flickering across your face, Celeste. So, I'm offering you a chance to talk to me. Trust me. I'm not going to use anything you say to go running to Jamezen and force you into something.”

  “And why should I trust you after your little stunt a few days ago. Just what have you done that has named you amongst those rare few I should trust in life?” She wasn't about to tell him that the few numbered the woman she saw in the mirror and no one else.

  “Because I haven't tried to get back into your room, even though I could have found a way.” He flashed a smile, but it did nothing to ease her concerns. “There are always ways to ease into a woman's room. Maids or slaves that can be bribed. I'm sure you're aware of that.”

  Celeste paled. Yes, she had a good idea that it could be done that way and it didn't leave her with a very settled feeling. “Yes, I see your point, Steven. But that only shows that you've displayed some level of restraint, not that I should trust you.”

  He shrugged, the smile never faltering. “What other choice do you truly have?”

  There had to be another way. Celeste glanced out of the window. It was still daylight and that gave her, for now, an option of taking a walk around the Island. “This discussion has been— entertaining— Steven, but I feel the need to stretch my legs and the weather appears inviting.”

  “Then, as a member of the Island, I'm offering you my company as your walk will, no doubt, take you beyond the safety of the fortress walls.”

  “I... ”

  “I insist. And if you don't think I have the right to, then I suggest you re-read the laws of the Island. You will be escorted, and as I've offered to do so you've no choice but to accept my protection during your walk, or remain within the protection of the fortress.”

  Celeste's jaw clenched. The last thing she'd wanted was to find herself forced into his company, but it didn't take long before she recalled that small passage in the rules of the Island. “Fine, then I will accept your protection during my walk.”

  He nodded and offered his arm. “Do you need a cloak?”

  “No, it's perfectly fine weather. I see no point in bringing one with me.” At least this way she could focus on any cooler weather to help keep her from being distracted by Steven. “And I will remind you, that this is a walk, not an invitation for you to try and touch me.”

  He nodded and waited for Celeste to take his arm. Reluctantly she did so and permitted him to lead the way out of the main hall. This wasn't what she had originally had in mind, but she was trapped by the situation and had little choice if she wanted to enjoy some time away from the walls of the fortress.

  Slowly they walked through the stone corridors. Her steps echoed through the wide pathways, her back ramrod straight, her gaze fixed straight ahead as she wanted no misunderstanding that this was anything but a simple walk. The last thing she needed was for some bright spark to assume there was some sort of romantic entanglement taking place between them. God, the problems that might present. She just wasn't in the right mind frame to deal with that little issue.

  “You aren't happy about this.” Steven spoke calmly, making no move to touch her hand even though it still rested on his arm. “I can understand that, despite what you might believe. You don't like me, you don't trust me and yet you're drawn to me regardless of your better judgment.”

  “I am not drawn to you.”

  “Lying is not something you do well.” Steven didn't lose the calm tone in his voice. “At least not on some things. On others, yes, on some other things you've been able to mask your true desires and feelings quite well. Except to those who know what to look for. I have to wonder where, or how, you learned such a mixed skill.”

  “I don't recall agreeing to discuss my past, Steven.”

  “No, you didn't, but that doesn't say that you wouldn't be open to such a discussion, under the correct circumstances.”

  It took everything she had not to move her hand away from his arm and slap him into the middle of next week. “My past belongs to me, no one else.”

  “Not entirely true. Unless you went through your life never touching another then your past belongs not just to you but those who helped form that past.” He turned, leading then down the steps and out through the courtyard. “And I'm sure a woman like you touched the lives of many a man and woman. I'm curious to know just who it is, in your past, that you hide from.”

  “I'm... ”

  “Please, do us both a favor and don't lie. You're in hiding. We all are in some way. There isn't a man or woman here on the Island that isn't hiding or running from something in our past. We're all outcasts. Take me, for example, I'm of noble blood but because of my tastes my father would prefer that I not return home until his death. He doesn't approve of the way I leave his women shaking and begging for more. However, I find this place offers me quite enough in the way of distractions.”

  Distractions. That was one way of putting it. Is that all women were to him? Distractions to amuse him? Her jaw tightened a little more, her teeth grinding down until she forced herself to take a breath and calm down. He was trying to bait her. She knew that. Even if he didn't admit it, she knew just what buttons he was trying to push and she wasn't about to let him use those buttons on her.

  “I see, well I'm sure you're enjoying your life here.” She flashed a calm smile his way, and then turned his attention away almost as quickly. “The weather is quite welcoming this time of year.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” A slight frown touched his brow. “You're a strange one, Celeste.”

  “So I've been told before.” More than once by her own father in fact. “But I'm comfortable in my own skin.”

  “That part I'm not so sure of.” They walked over the small drawbridge and out of the safety of the walls. Instead of turning toward the dock, Steven led the way around the edge of the fortress until they hit a path that wandered out toward the trees. “I don't think you truly are comfortable with yourself, Celeste. Not with everything you have to hide. You build this wall of ice, a way of keeping everyone away from you, but it doesn't protect you from yourself. Or the hungers you have.”

  “Ah, so you still believe I'm hiding something?”

  “I know you are, I can see it in your eyes.” He waited until the trees were close at hand then turned, cupping her chin with one hand. “Admit it. You miss the strength. I don't know who touched you. Who molded you. But the need, the hunger, it bubbles beneath your skin and there's no way of avoiding it.”

  “You keep saying that, but I've seen no sign to prove your words.” Celeste faked a yawn, trying to appear bored.

  “Then I will have to show you just what I see in you, Celeste. In all your glorious, submissive, willing detail.” He glanced back at the fortress then moved his hand to her arm, his grip tight, as he forced her toward the trees. “It's about time we ended this little deception, for both our sakes.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” She tried to pull free but the grip on her arm was too tight. And they were already too far away from the fortress to give her the chance to cry out for help. Should have known better. He's not to be trusted. I knew that from the beginning. Why the hell didn't I refuse his offer? Because she'd wanted to escape from the four walls if only for a short time.

  “I'm not going to hurt you, just show you that you're lying to me, and to yourself.” He didn't hesitate, instead he continued toward the trees and the safety they offered. Only when they were behind the protective shield of the trees did he stop and turn her to face him fully. “Now we will see.”

  Celeste struggled, desperate to pull free from him but the grip on her arm was too tight. Before she had the chance to kick out at him he slipped his fingers into her hair and pulled her close, claiming he
r lips fully. She pressed one hand against his chest, tensing even as his tongue pried into her mouth.

  She tensed instantly under the probing touch between her lips. No, this isn't happening. He has no right to...

  Her body threatened to give into the hunger there and then. Her knees weakened. Her body heated. Her lips parted fully allowing him access. She groaned into the kiss, her body aching for his touch despite the time she had let herself dream and play within her room. A dream wasn't the real thing.

  He isn't the real thing either. He's not my master.

  No one was. Not anymore.

  His fingers tightened in her hair, holding her close. Her nipples tightened beneath her dress, pressing against the material. Pressure rippled through her core, threatening to betray her even as his grip shifted in her long hair. It took a moment before she realized what he was doing.

  Her knees gave way, his grip forcing her down onto them. Panic flushed through her being. He broke the kiss, using her hair to hold her on her knees. Her shoulders tensed, hands clenched into fists as she tried to strike out. But he twisted her hair, forcing her back into a tight arch.

  “This is where you belong, Celeste. At least with the right man.”

  “Let me go!” She couldn't even see him clearly, not with the way he was holding onto her hair. “You're hurting me. Let me go. Now!”

  “No, not yet at least. You're aroused, you can protest and struggle all you want but you're aroused by this. By what I'm doing to you.” His voice remained calm as he leaned down and caressed her face with the tips of his fingers from his free hand. “You're angry, and yet submissive. You're furious, and yet you can't help the way your body clenches in need right now.”

  She wanted to deny it, to deny all of it, but she couldn't. It wasn't the man she was reacting to, it was what he was doing. Nothing more, nothing less, his actions and she wanted to sob in despair. “Please, stop this!”

  “Are you begging me, or asking me?”

  “Asking.” She focused just enough to keep from admitting she was almost willing to beg. “This isn't right, let me up please. You're hurting me.”