Six Masters Island - The Cinderella Syndrome

by Candace Smith

  “I’ll see you back at the house,” Daryl replied. There was no sense arguing with Sloan’s assessment of the woman.

  The next afternoon, Sloan’s truck pulled into the estate with Daryl’s sedan following behind him. Cynthia ran down to the driveway and hugged him. “Thank god you’re all right.”

  “Sorry I screwed up,” Sloan mumbled.

  “Nonsense,” Cynthia said.

  “You haven’t seen her yet,” Daryl called over, and he laughed when Sloan scowled at him.

  “Bring her to me,” Cynthia demanded. From the shadowed foyer, Calla grabbed Liam’s hand when she saw the outrage in her eyes.

  “You don’t mess with Cynthia’s boys,” Alexander chuckled from landing in front of them.

  Jackie came to in the back of a trunk, bound in ropes, gagged, and blindfolded. She was terrified, and by the time the car stopped, tears had soaked the cloth over her eyes. She heard the trunk open and the cool air hit her skin. That was the first time it occurred to her that she was naked. Oh god. Please let this be a dream.

  She was roughly pulled from the trunk and her bare feet landed on sharp gravel stones. A woman’s voice seethed, “How dare you?” Jackie felt sharp nails dig into her new thirty-five hundred dollar breasts and squeeze. A hand ripped through her hair and grabbed the curls surrounding her pussy. “What a bleached, streaked up, colored mess,” Cynthia hissed. She walked around to her back, and Jackie felt nails prying open one of her clenched hands. Two of the multi-colored glued on nails had popped off in the trunk when she struggled. “Fake,” Cynthia announced. She dropped the hand. “Fake, fake, fake,” she repeated as she grabbed the hair and a breast again.

  Cynthia yanked off the blindfold and stared at the watery black mess left from heavy eyeliner and mascara that were meant to enhance small, ratty brown eyes. Her tirade stopped instantly. “Sloan, hand me a rag,” Cynthia said quietly.

  When Cynthia had suddenly calmed, Alexander’s eyes narrowed. He watched from the porch as thin lips appeared from under the thick outlined lipstick of the lady cop. “Oh shit. I better get down there before Cynthia kills her.” He took the steps two at a time.

  Calla had never heard Alexander swear before. “Liam, what’s going on?”

  “I have no idea,” he admitted.

  “Now,” Cynthia shrieked. Her hair was flying around like a black witch’s cape, and she was completely infuriated. None of the men could calm her down, and before Liam could stop her, Calla had run down the steps to her.

  For the first time, Calla could see why the stepdaughters were terrified of her. She grabbed Cynthia’s hand as it waved in a rage towards the garden. “Cynthia, you look magnificent,” Calla said calmly.

  The statement hit Cynthia like a bucket of cold water, and she realized how wild she appeared. She trembled in anger, but stopped screaming. Calla said, “Liam, please have Ethel send some chamomile tea to the garden for mother and me. Sloan, you and Daryl get the flower into a dungeon garden container.” The whole while Calla brushed a pale thumb across Cynthia’s cheek. “Alexander, come and join us in the garden.”

  Cynthia followed almost meekly as Calla and Alexander led her to the bench in the center of the garden. Calla knew Cynthia’s calming gestures by watching her train. She curled a wild black strand behind her ear and said, “Now, what is all this fuss about? It can’t be Sloan, because he’s fine, Cynthia.”

  “Fake. Fake, fake, fake,” Cynthia chanted, wrapping her arms around her stomach and rocking. Calla looked nervously at Alexander, and he took his wife’s hand.

  “It’s not her, Cynthia,” Alexander said softly. “It looks like her, but you know that it can’t be. That was over thirty years ago, my love. She can’t hurt you any more.”

  “Ava,” Calla breathed. “You thought she was Ava.”

  Cynthia’s eyes snapped to Calla. Calla smiled, “She’s every bit as ugly as you said she was. I can’t imagine you making a flower to look like her.”

  Cynthia said softly, “I still have the original… I mean, before the hybrid.”

  “Show me.” Calla pulled her up. At least she was calming, but it was obvious how shocked she had been.

  Cynthia led them to a barren corner where an ugly, stringy mess of brown drooped out of equally unappealing flat green leaves. “Ava Puhi,” Cynthia informed them.

  “Good grief, Cynthia. I’m glad I’ve never gotten on your bad side,” Calla laughed.

  “You should have seen the final creation,” Cynthia said.

  “Quite hideous,” Alexander agreed. “She gave up when there was nothing more she could do to it. I don’t think she succeeded in mixing in ragweed… but she did try.”

  They slowly strolled around the garden and Cynthia introduced Calla to her flowers. They were interrupted by a clatter as Liam plowed into Rose, upsetting the tea tray and running towards Calla, ripping off his shirt. Alexander’s eyes widened and he stared at the white fairy… standing in the full afternoon sun. He had not noticed that her eyes were watering down her cheeks. “Oh my god.” He swept the dark green silk of Cynthia’s full length gown over the girl.

  This broke Cynthia’s spelled shock, and her face paled when she realized the danger Calla was in. “Get her inside. Oh god… get her inside.” Cynthia pulled off her gown and stood stark naked in the garden, wrapping the silk around Calla. Liam swept her up in his arms and ran towards the steps. Daryl and Sloan had just come back to see to the other flower, still bound in the truck.

  “What happened?” Daryl asked.

  Rose was crying and picking up glass, their father was running up the steps with their mother… naked… running up behind him. Cynthia looked crazy and panicked again, and they wondered if she had hurt Calla. They each grabbed an arm before she could pass and do more damage. “What happened?” Sloan repeated his brother’s questions.

  “I’ve killed her,” Cynthia moaned. “She was trying to help me, and I’ve killed her.”

  “What the fuck?” Daryl asked.

  Alexander turned as he headed up the stairs after Liam, and he saw Cynthia being restrained. “Let your mother go, boys. Get the other flower secured.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Sloan demanded, still holding his mother’s arm.

  “Calla brought her to the garden to calm her down,” Alexander replied. He could see the incomprehension on the boys’ faces. “Calla brought her to the garden… in the sun… with no protection for almost thirty minutes.”

  Their father did not have to ask them to let Cynthia go. Their hands released her automatically. “Go get something on, mother. Calla’s going to need you,” Sloan said softly.

  Rose jumped to her feet and slid the tray on the table, following quickly behind her Mistress up the stairs. Stepmother was a frightening sight, running naked down the hall with her long hair thrashing wildly around her.

  “Get me something to wear,” Cynthia ordered. Rose chose a pale blue in an attempt to calm her, and the quivering slave carefully brushed out stepmother’s hair while she placed a call.

  Cynthia strode down the hall towards Liam’s bedroom, and she saw Marigold kneeling and crying on the carpet outside the closed door. Cynthia calmed herself and said, “Marigold, bring me a pitcher of cool water from the kitchen… no ice, just cold.”

  “Yes, stepmother.” Marigold stood and trembled, “Is… is Mistress Calla going to be all right?”

  “She’ll be fine, Marigold. Now, go do as I told you.” The girl ran off and Cynthia opened the door.

  The room was dark except for the light from the bathroom. Calla was lying on the bed with a cool wet cloth over her eyes. Cynthia sat down and took her hand. Calla laughed nervously and said, “Damn, this is going to hurt in a little while.”

  “I’m so sorry, Calla. I don’t know what happened,” Cynthia said.

  “I’ll be fine, Cynthia. Remember, I don’t freckle.” She turned to where Liam sat on the other side of her. “Can you get me a damp cloth for my lips, too? They feel kind
of blistery.”

  “What can we do?” Cynthia asked.

  “Right now, cool and dark feels good. Geeze, Cynthia. You should have seen yourself. You were awesome,” Calla said. She could tell how upset Cynthia was, and there was a silent underlying acceptance that her insanity had flown full tilt for a while. “Liam, don’t let Kyle know.”

  “He’ll be pissed, Calla.”

  “Cynthia? Don’t let him know.”

  “All right, Calla.”

  They spent an hour giving her water and changing out cool rags. Even in the minimal light, they could see her face getting red. Cynthia and Liam could feel heat radiating from her hands.

  “Where’s my patient?” a man demanded.

  “Albert, thank you for coming so quickly,” Cynthia said.

  “Fine, fine… get out of my way,” he grumbled. He sat down next to Calla. “You know better than this,” he stated.

  “Yes, sir. It couldn’t be helped,” Calla answered. For some reason, his commanding grumble made her feel better.

  “Cindy, have you got aloe in that jungle of yours?” the doctor asked.

  “Tons of it,” Cynthia replied.

  “Well, we’re going to need tons of it. Have a dozen good sized pieces brought up here. Liam, fill the tub with cool water. Not cold, we don’t need her going into shock.” Albert lifted the rag off her lips and winced.

  “Don’t worry… no kisses,” Calla smiled. Her lips split in two places.

  “No wise-ass jokes, either,” Albert ordered. He pulled the rag free. “Where’s my damn aloe?” he demanded. It had only been a minute since he ordered it. “We need to keep your lips coated so they don’t heal together. I’m putting spacers in the corners to keep them open. Now, the bigger problem.” Albert lifted the rag on her eyes. They were swollen shut and tearing. “Can you open them at all?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Probably best, for now. I’m putting ointment on them. Liam, you keep this on her until the swelling goes down.”

  “I will. The bath is ready,” Liam said.

  “Cindy?” Albert bellowed towards the hallway. “Get some candles in here.”

  Calla was dipped into the tub, and even by the light of the candles around the room, they could see how burned she was. Her pale shift had done little to filter the light. Her hands were so swollen her fingers could not move. “The aloe should help with the burning, and let her soak in the tub when she wants to. The spacers should allow a straw to slip through so she can drink plenty of water and broth. Juice will help, too. The first couple of days are going to be the hardest, so I’m leaving you pre-filled syringes for pain. Give them to her every four hours, whether she wants them or not. I’ll be back tomorrow night to check on her, unless you call me first.” Albert packed up his things. “Don’t forget to keep her eyes coated with the ointment,” he growled.

  “Thank you, Albert,” Cynthia said.

  He waved his hand as he walked away. “She’ll be fine, Cindy.”

  Alexander met the Doctor while he was on his way out, and after Albert left, he met Sloan and Daryl in the dungeon. He watched as they efficiently checked the chambers making sure the flowers were secure, allowing no hint on their faces of the turmoil going on upstairs.

  “Which room is the policewoman in?” he asked.

  The boys walked their father to the room Orchid used to occupy, where Jackie was sobbing and cringing against the wall at the back of the cage. There were no ‘police-like’ type of things she could think of… there was little she could think of… since the terrifying experience of being pulled from a dark trunk and attacked by the insane woman. She had been petrified while she waited, bound and locked in a cage and imagining the woman’s green eyes glaring at her in the darkness.

  Sloan dragged the woman from the cage, and he and Daryl followed their father. Alexander had them hide Jackie deep in the dungeon, in a section he had kept hidden even from his wife. He had not done this intentionally. It was just an inconvenient space to get to, which had not been used for almost a century and included no upgrades. Alexander picked up the flashlight he kept at the entrance to the dark hallway and banged it against his palm to wake-up the batteries so that it would light.

  His sons were mesmerized by some of the ancient devices. “Just put her in a cage, for now. I need to consider the best way to handle this.” Alexander could see a seething anger in Sloan’s dark eyes. “Sloan, I know that you feel the girl owes you retribution, but for the time being I want you to wait.”

  After they placed the shocked woman in a rusted cage, Alexander followed his sons as they walked around the old dungeon room. “Back then, a lot of things were used only for torture. The ultimate goal of enhancing a slave’s arousal for humiliation was not a consideration. It makes much of this equipment obsolete for our use, because most of it leaves marks or irreparable damage.” He turned back to face his sons. “Do not tell your mother where she is. With Calla so ill, she may not think of her for a few days, but if she does, tell her to speak to me.”

  “You really think she’ll hurt her?” Daryl asked. All of them enjoyed inflicting pain, but not destroying the women they captured… even this pathetic creature staring at them in silence.

  “Until she gets her emotions in check, I don’t know.” Alexander did not tell them about the frightening scene with Orchid. He had spoken to Albert on his way out to the car and described her reaction to recent events, including the unusual care she had shown for Passion, which was unexpected. Albert was going to monitor the change in Cynthia when he checked on Calla.

  Chapter X

  “Sloan, come help me with Snapdragon,” Daryl asked. Things were so out of sync in the dungeon that she was the only flower still on schedule. Cosmos would not be touched until Kyle returned with his flower, the girl that Sloan brought back had not been named by their mother, and the policewoman was out of the question.

  “This is so fucked up, Daryl,” Sloan replied.

  “Not so much, Sloan. Albert says that Calla will be all right, and who knows? Maybe mother will find a use for that ugly bitch. Things have been going predictably smooth for the past few years, so I guess we were due for a little excitement to shake things up.”

  “This is more than a little excitement, Daryl. This is a major storm.”

  Daryl knew that Sloan was angry, and Snapdragon would be a useful outlet. He had been working on her for days to suck him, but without the ring she refused. Snapdragon seemed to be a prophetic name for the girl, because her jaws clenched down tightly on the silicone model he had tried to shove down her throat.

  They walked into Snapdragon’s chamber, and the brothers’ faces calmed to ‘training mode’. Their mother and father had instilled in them since they first began working in the dungeons to never let the slaves know if they were upset. It was another reason that their mother’s outburst had shaken things up so badly.

  “Interesting rigging, Daryl.” Sloan walked around the hanging girl. Her breasts were bound tightly at the base and pointing towards the ground. A chain from the ceiling was attached to her wrist cuffs, raising them over her back, and a rope wound around her arms, holding her elbows together. Her ankles were locked together and attached to the same hook holding her wrists, and it kept her thighs spread and gave her back a nice arch.

  “I still have to use the ring in her mouth, because I can’t break her of trying to bite,” Daryl admitted.

  “Nonsense,” Sloan replied. He ran a hand down her back and squeezed her ass. “She just needs encouragement.”

  Snapdragon looked up into Sloan’s eyes, and she could see the anger he was trying to hide. What did I do wrong? I haven’t even seen you since that horrible position training. Edna could not fathom what she had done to cause the frightening look in his eyes. It did not occur to her that something else might be responsible, as, for her, everything concerning her world was involved in this terrible room.

  She looked nervously at Daryl. Several times he had tried
to force a horrible rubber penis into her mouth, and every time she had bitten down on it in outrage. They could force her to perform the disgusting act with the ring, but she would never do it willingly. Daryl unbuckled the gag from her head and she felt the plug slide out of her mouth. Even with her body painfully bound, she glared at the men in defiance.

  “Gotta’ love the redheads,” Daryl chuckled. “Okay, Sloan. What’s your plan?”

  Snapdragon tried to follow Sloan when he walked behind her. In the sling, it was impossible. Her eyes focused on Daryl, and they narrowed slightly when he smiled. There was a whooshing sound, and suddenly the crease between her thighs was on fire. “Aaaah… oh, god… stop,” she screamed.

  Sloan walked slowly in front of her, and he stroked the cane. He held her chin in his free hand. “I’m very good with this,” he said calmly. “I can stroke you just hard enough to keep you conscious.” Her blue eyes looked up at him in miserable shock, splashing tears down her cheeks while she sobbed. “Now, open your fucking mouth, and every time my brother tells me he feels a hint of your teeth, I’m blistering your cunt.” Sloan walked behind her again, and she felt his hand caress the inside of her thigh.

  Daryl looked at Sloan nervously. “I’m not so sure I want to try with the real thing, Sloan.”

  “Is her mouth open?”

  “Yes, but I still don’t think this is a good idea. She left impressions on the dildo,” Daryl informed him.

  There was a whooshing sound, and Snapdragon screamed again when the cane lashed down on her split. “Oh god… please don’t do this to me,” she sobbed. The cane came down again and she shrieked, “I’ll do it. Please… please Master Daryl.”

  “Tell him you want to suck his cock, Snapdragon,” Sloan instructed from behind her.

  She hung her head, sobbing hysterically. The hissing air sounded again and her body constricted in anticipation of the blow. She was certain her tender pussy was being ripped apart. “Please, Master Daryl. Please let me suck your cock so he’ll stop,” she begged.