Praise for the writing of Vonna Harper

Scarlet Cavern

If you’re interested in giving BDSM stories a try, I’d highly recommend starting with Vonna Harper’s Scarlet Cavern. For those who already enjoy a good BDSM story, Scarlet Cavern is a story you don’t want to miss

-- Susan Biliter, eCataRomance Reviews

[T]his is one incredible read and not to be missed, especially if you want to dabble in the BDS&M erotica venue.

-- Sarah Silversmith, The Romance Readers Connection

The sex is fabulous, inventive and orgasmic. I highly recommend this book for the Gold Star Award because it has outstanding character development in all characters including the secondary characters, an interesting truer to life depiction of the BDSM philosophy, and outstanding romantic moments that will touch your heart and leave you breathless.

-- Julie Esparza, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

If you enjoy BDSM tales, you will enjoy this book… Vonna Harper has written an emotionally satisfying, and complex tale.

-- Nancy Riggins-Hume, The Road to Romance

It is a very passionate narrative, heavily erotic, whether in Shana's or Ranger’s point of view. It demonstrates some of the most gripping elements of the power exchange that is the basis of relationships that have the dynamic of Domination and submission.

-- Maitresse, Novelspot

Scarlet Cavern is now available from Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

SURRENDER’S DANCE

Vonna Harper

www.loose-id.com

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * * *

This book is rated:

For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable (extreme BDSM).

DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

Surrender’s Dance

Vonna Harper

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by

Loose Id LLC

1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

Carson City NV 89701-1215

www.loose-id.com

Copyright © June 2005 by Vonna Harper

Excerpt of Tempest copyright May 2005 by Louisa Trent

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 1-59632-126-1

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Allie McKnight

Cover Artist: Fabiano Fabris

www.loose-id.com

Chapter One

“So, how does it feel to be canned?”

Because she was the only one in her bedroom, Asia Drake didn’t expect a response. Instead, she lifted her glass of wine and toasted her image in the dresser mirror. The polished image of a successful professional woman saluted back.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” Asia challenged. “Your audience is gone. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Nodding in acceptance and defeat, she put the glass on the dresser and removed her heels. Relief at being rid of the damnably uncomfortable things briefly distracted her. Straightening, she again faced herself. After a momentary appraisal, she shrugged and started unbuttoning her new teal jacket. The jacket had set her back a couple of hundred dollars but was a necessary part of how she projected herself to her employers at Maximize Enterprises.

“Amend that. Soon-to-be ex-employers.”

Her hand shook as she finished with the buttons and pulled off the garment. After dropping it on her bed, she picked up the wine again and took a hearty swallow. Then she acknowledged that she hadn’t been fired so much as been a casualty of what the company’s board members called outsourcing.

“Big fucking deal. Bottom line, old girl, is that you’re out of a job. Services no longer required.”

But I created the marketing department. My campaigns put the company on the map. Doesn’t that account for something?

Apparently not.

Deep-down weary of the whole thing and more than a little scared, she focused on removing the rest of her work clothes. By the time she’d hung up her jacket, silk shell, and slim white skirt, she’d polished off the wine and replenished her supply. Now she stood facing her underwear-clad form.

“You ain’t thirty yet. And you ain’t that hard on the eyes.” Head cocked to the side, she cupped her breasts and lifted. “No sag -- at least not much. Tight ass, flat belly, runner’s legs.” Shifting direction, she ran her fingers over her pantyhose-clad thighs. “The package ain’t that bad. You won’t have any trouble selling it to another company.”

Wait. Was she really thinking about using her physical assets to get herself a job? It had to be the wine talking. But ... hell.

“What can I say? Sex sells. And I know how to make it work.”

Ridding herself of the pantyhose without snagging them took concentration. Still, as she slid the sensual material over her skin, she couldn’t help but admit that being young, female, and attractive had gone a long way toward helping her achieve career success. Just because her current employer’s bottom line and priorities had robbed her of a job didn’t mean she’d soon be selling pencils on the street corner.

“Hell, no. If worse comes to worst, I’ll sell myself. And no street corners either.” She slipped a hand under her bikini panties. “This package deserves to be a kept woman.”

Kept? Hmm. Now there was a possibility, a damn intriguing one.

All right, so what was the life of a kept woman like? Sure there was the sex part, always available, willing, appreciative, grateful, a happy little energized bunny. But the rest of the time would be hers, as would a generous allowance and credit cards she wouldn’t get the bills for, right?

Yeah, but other than spending money on herself and spreading her legs at the snap of a finger, how would she fill her life?

A joyless laugh ended in a near sob, startling her. She hadn’t cried for so long she’d all but forgotten what it sounded like. And although the question of how long she’d be able to afford the payments on her luxury condo had to be faced, she wasn’t about to mire in self pity. Feeling sorry for herself, like giving into heartbreak -- something that had nearly destroyed her twice -- never changed reality.

She switched off the overhead light and reached for the nightstand lamp but didn’t turn it on. Instead, she lit a trio of candles and let the scent of vanilla and spices waft over her.

In a precious few days, she wouldn’t be waking to an alarm clock before the crack of dawn so she could get in some exercise before going to the office. As long as she was unemployed, gaining a few pounds wouldn’t be that big a deal. She wouldn’t need her power suits, would have no reason to choose between her twenty-some pairs of heels. Would no longer spend too many evenings hunched over her briefcase. Instead she’d, what? Have a pleasure-fest? Come until she couldn’t come anymore?

Wine in hand, she opened her nightstand drawer and contemplated her sex toy collection. As she recalled, the pearlized lavender vibrator had fresh batteries. She couldn’t say it was her favorite. It was just one of the precious few that still worked. Maybe that’s what she’d do with some of her spare time. Replenish her supply. And prowl the Internet for more sites specializing in sensual reading and viewing material.

“Not just sensual, old girl.” She reached under the toys for the folder she hoped to hell no one ever saw and placed it on the bed. After another swallow of wine, she opened the folder and began spreading out the photographs she’d downloaded. In the uncertain light, some were hard to make out, but she’d seen them so many times that she went by memory.

Every one portrayed naked or nearly naked women in various stages of bondage, ranging from rope spider webs circling their lush bodies to metal restraints that allowed only minimal movement. For the most part, the men responsible were photographed in shadow, which left a lot to her imagination. Too much. And unfortunately, she’d never been able to come up with an image of the perfect Dom. Big and strong, of course. Sure of himself. Dark and dangerous, but not over the top in that department.

Sighing, Asia put down her glass, removed her bra, and returned to her drawer. Selecting a pair of gold nipple clamps, she ran the metal over her breasts. As she did, she felt her pussy loosen and soften. The familiar, safe fantasy took hold. It would work. It always did.

In her mind she stood naked and exposed on an auction block. Because a bright light was directed on her, she couldn’t see the audience, but she could sense their presence. Powerful men had come to bid on her. The details of how she’d come to this place were always vague. What she’d been before she’d become a sex slave didn’t matter. Only the chains securing her arms over her head did. Only the large, elaborate clamp the auctioneer was placing on her nipple did.

Panting, she steadied her right breast as she settled a clip over her hard nub. Sensation raced through her from breast to crotch. She closed her eyes and imagined knowing eyes raking her flesh and deep, approving voices as the auctioneer demonstrated how much nipple play turned her on by pulling on the clamp. Then he swept his hand over her pussy and held his glistening fingers up to the light.

“The current offering comes to us from a flesh trafficker who prefers to remain anonymous,” the auctioneer in her mind announced. “She’s well-trained in the art of pleasing a man and is truly submissive. See how easily she accepts everything I do to her.”

Although Asia attached the second clamp, in her mind, she stood still and heated while the man in charge of her sale did the deed.

“However, because she was born free,” the auctioneer continued, “she still has spirit, which will provide her new owner with endless entertainment and possibilities. She fights her nature. See how she can be made to struggle to try to free herself.”

Arms reaching for the ceiling now, Asia twisted from side to side. The gesture sent her captured breasts into motion. Moaning, she imagined her possible owners leaning forward so they could closely study her performance.

“She is a slave to her sex.”

Asia ran a hand under her panties. She didn’t stop until she’d reached her hot, wet flesh.

“See how quickly she becomes excited. Although she fights herself, she orgasms easily and hates being denied. Hunger and frustration make her docile and compliant and eager to please. Use her instinct and what she learned at the hands of the trafficker to your advantage, gentlemen. Now, who wishes to start the bidding?”

Trembling, Asia slipped her wet fingers into her mouth and sucked.

A sex slave.My existence revolving around my pussy.

Fantasy pulled her in even deeper and took her back in time to when she’d been captured by the slaver who’d prepared her for her life as a sexual object. He’d run her down, cornered her, lassoed, and hog-tied her before cutting off her clothes. Then he’d knelt beside her helpless body and forced a hard rubber dildo inside her.

Imagining her fingers were the dildo, she rammed them home. Despite her desperate attempts, she couldn’t move as her captor continued his invasion. She begged and pleaded until he silenced her by securing a large ball gag in her mouth. The dildo remained buried in her pussy.

He gripped the large, firm rod again, sliding it rapidly in and out of her vagina. The pace quickened, ignited hidden flesh, insisted on surrender and subservience. “That’s it, slut! Rock and roll. Let’s hear you whimper.”

She did, the helpless cries muffled by the ball that forced her mouth to remain open.

The dildo continued to work her. Tireless, relentless, frenzied now, it powered its way not just into her cave but throughout her. Her mind seized and froze. No longer distracted by rational thought, she rode the invasion.

“Scream, slut. Scream!”

“Ahhh!”

“Beg for it.”

Please, please!

“You love this, don’t you? Say it!”

Please, please, let me come!

“What will you do for me?”

Anything.

“I can’t hear you, bitch. If I let you explode, what will you do for me?”

“Any-thing,” she whimpered around the gag.

Her captor drove the artificial invader home, impaled her on it, demanded. Wave after wave of sensation ripped through her. And she screamed again into her gag.

As her shudders weakened, Asia’s fingers slid out of her. Her hands hung at her sides, and she panted. One clamp had fallen off. The other still pinched.

Silence enveloped her, and as she stumbled toward her bed, tears blurred her vision. There was no slaver, no auctioneer, no masterful owner. And despite the powerful and vital fantasy, she couldn’t imagine ever taking it beyond her lonely bedroom. So there never would be.

Chapter Two

At a little after six the next morning, Asia parked her leased Buick near the entrance to the county park with its miles of jogging trails. She got out, and after checking the laces on her athletic shoes, she stretched her leg muscles, then took off at an easy pace. The conditions of her generous severance package called for her continuing to work for the firm through the end of the month, but she had no meetings planned for today. She’d get to work when she got there. When she’d extinguished the hot frustration that had stalked her restless night.

As she lengthened her stride and let the familiar pattern take over, she struggled to put her mind on what she should do -- since she hadn’t been bought by a new, wealthy owner, after all.

She could start her own company. Her experience with Maximize would speak for itself as she made the rounds of corporations. But the idea of knocking on doors made her stomach knot; she wasn’t looking forward to having to switch gears from what she’d done for Maximize to dancing to other employers’ tunes.

Although she risked getting sucked right back in by the tide of desire, she allowed her mind to return to last night. As climaxes went, that one had barely merited a blip, but it was better than nothing. Still, she always felt uneasy as she put away her bondage pictures -- not because she was a prude, but because sometimes her imagination and secret dreams surprised her. After all, what was a nice, professional woman doing getting off on dominance and submission?

Well, hell, she’d been horny as hell last night and in need of some serious stress reduction. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date, let alone had a living, breathing fuck.

Looking around, she realized she’d already run a mile. Most mornings, she quit at three so she could get cleaned up and to work on time, but today she could go as long as she wanted. As long as she needed. And with everything that was happening ... she needed to run.

Under her practical sports bra, her nipples still ached from the clamps. What was it the auctioneer of her imagination had said? That she was a perpetually horny piece of flesh who’d do anything for satisfaction? Well, not anything. But if necessity called for masturbation and a dose of playacting ... so be it.

Thanks to the Internet’s exploitation of the kinkier aspects of sex, she’d had plenty of material to feed her BDSM fantasies. Unfortunately, reading fiction about the submissive lifestyle and looking at staged videos hadn’t told her much about what being dominated was really like. Fantasizing was one thing, reality probably quite another.

Still, as long as she was pretending, what would she want in the way of a Master?

He’d be big and strong, of course. Supremely confident and in control. That much she knew. What else? Well, naturally, a fine, firm ass, shoulders and arms made for carrying her. Deeply tanned with dark, dark eyes -- mandatory. He’d understand how weary she was of assuming responsibility for her life and body. And he’d know exactly how to wrench that responsibility from her and make it his own. She’d want and need nothing more than to please him. When she did, he’d reward her with his tireless, oversized cock and mind-scrambling climaxes.

When she displeased him, he’d bring her back in line, much as a dog trainer turns a puppy into a well-behaved pet. The idea of being strung up to a post while he laid into her ass with a stinging but carefully-crafted lash made her wince. At the same time, she wondered if the sound, like the pain, might turn her on. And the discipline. Sometimes she got off imagining having to wear a metal collar only he had the key to. Of course he’d keep her naked unless they were out in public, and he’d chain her in the bedroom or maybe in a basement to make sure she stayed where he wanted her. Sometimes he’d plug both her holes with remote-controlled vibrators and secure them in place via a chastity belt. Even if he was off at work, he’d periodically remind her of his dominance via random jolts that kept her sexually on edge.

No! What was she thinking! She had no interest in being someone’s pet.

Like you’d have any say in the matter if you were a slave, some perverse alter ego pointed out. Slaves have no rights.

And no responsibilities. No bills. And all the sex she could handle as long as she earned it.

A sex slave?

An odd trickle of alarm yanked her back into the here and now. There were several other joggers out this morning. A trio of teenage males far ahead, an older couple she’d just passed. And hadn’t she recently moved over to the side to accommodate a bicyclist? The park was safe in daylight.

Still ...

Looking around, she spotted a man coming up behind her. He was shirtless and way too muscular for a distance runner. Not one of those yuppies who suck down endless designer coffees and buy their expensive running clothes at specialty shops, but a real man. Real and raw. Like the Master she’d been daydreaming about. For just a moment she wondered if her imagination had conjured him up. But no.

Judging by his pace and long, strong, naked legs, he’d overtake her in a few seconds. Because she had to juggle judging his powerful, confident stride with making sure she didn’t fall, she couldn’t be sure, but his gaze seemed to be settled on her. She always carried pepper spray in her shorts’ pocket, but she’d never come close to needing it.

Tall, strong, deeply tanned with long, windblown, dark hair. Breath-stealing shoulders and lean hips. Firm-as-rock ass. Bare feet silent on the cement path.

Bare feet?

Closer he came. Closer. She felt his presence in her bones and muscles, sensed his touch on her nerve endings. His impossibly dark eyes threatened to suck her in.

I’ve come for you.

Even as the words settled over her, she felt her world shift.

Chapter Three

Dense, heavy vegetation pressed in on Asia. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she half-ran, half-stumbled, down what couldn’t really be called a trail. Panic came at her in waves and rendered rational thought impossible.

She knew only one thing -- to flee.

Arms pumping, legs straining, she leaned forward and dodged to the side in a desperate attempt to avoid an overgrown, head-high bush. She managed to keep her footing, but with her next step, her heels sank into damp earth.

Heels? What had happened to her jogging outfit?

Don’t think! Don’t think!

Shaking her feet free of the damn useless shoes, she plowed on. Too soon, she knew she’d made a mistake. The feet of her pantyhose were already shredded. Her soles were being cut by rocks and tree roots. Sobbing, she willed herself to dismiss the pain and disconnected sensation. She had to run, to escape!

Escape what?

It didn’t matter. If whoever was pursuing her caught up with her, she was doomed. If she knew nothing else, she knew that.

Running had always calmed and centered her, but this was different. Instead of a paved path, she was on uneven and treacherous land, and time had buckled in some incomprehensible way. Not only didn’t she have a clue where she was, the contrast between light and shadows made anticipating her next move impossible. Panic again clawed at her throat.

Before she knew it was going to happen, she fell. She managed to turn so she landed on her shoulder instead of her breasts, then struggled to get to her hands and knees. Her straight-line skirt clung to her legs much as ropes would. She started to pull the fabric up over her thighs so she’d have more freedom of movement, but a sudden weight on her back slammed her belly to the ground. She smelled wet earth and struggled to look over her shoulder. The weight shifted until the pressure was between her shoulder blades.

Oh God. Someone’s foot was holding her down.

“Give it up!” a man ordered. He punctuated his command by shifting his weight to the back of her neck.

Her legs and arms remained free, but what good were they if all they could reach was the ground? Even worse, she couldn’t breathe! The burning in her lungs became more intense and still more. She tried to reach behind her, to get free, but couldn’t grasp anything. As her consciousness faded, she wrenched her body to the side. Gasped for breath. Before her attacker could adjust, she struggled out from under him and onto her hands and knees, lacerating her hose even more. Instead of trying to stand, she forced herself to look at the threat to her freedom and maybe her life.

Because she was staring up at the sky, she saw little except a massive, dark, nearly naked shadow.

“Like the feeling of a little freedom?” The shadowy figure taunted her, voice deep, and husky, and knowing. “It’s not going to last.” With that, he leaned down and pressed his large hands against her shoulders.

Although she tried to scramble away, his greater weight forced her to the ground again. This time, instead of putting pressure on her neck, he straddled her and settled his hips over her buttocks. He yanked off her blazer, popping buttons as he did and exposing her sleeveless silk shell. Then he wrenched her arms down against her sides.

Before the threat fully penetrated, he ran a rope around her right elbow and pulled it toward him. He grasped her left arm. Propelled by desperate strength, she managed to briefly free it. Grunting, he pinned the arm to the ground with his knee, then slowly and deliberately looped rope around that elbow. He leaned back, pulling on the ropes to force her arms as far behind her as they would go. He secured the bonds so her elbows nearly touched.

Handcuffs wouldn’t have done a better job of rendering her arms useless, but he obviously wasn’t satisfied because he grabbed the long, thick hair she’d always been so proud of and lifted her head. He ran more rope around and under one shoulder, and then the other. Once he’d tied that off, he released her hair and ran yet another rope from the one over her shoulder blades to her elbow restraints. Even if she’d been able to force her elbows closer together to loosen the tie there, the latest rope effectively prevented her from freeing herself.

Caught!

Her eyes burned, but she wouldn’t cry. No. She could get out of this. She would.

When she’d fought off the surge of panic, the man was no longer sitting on her. He pulled her up by the rope harness, first to her knees and then to her feet. Then he turned her toward him and released her.

The man she’d seen in the park!

Except ... instead of shorts, he now wore what appeared to be a loincloth, which ended just shy of his knees. He needed a shave. His dark hair was long and wild-looking; his eyes black and deep set and strangely beautiful. Mesmerizing. His skin tone made her guess he spent much of his life out-of-doors.

“Didn’t expect this, did you?” her captor asked, but he didn’t seem to care if she answered. “You should have been careful what you wished for.”

Wish? She couldn’t think beyond this moment. Her awful helplessness.

Her legs trembled so much that she had to put effort into keeping her knees from buckling. Technically, her hands were free, but it didn’t matter because she couldn’t use them. She who had never felt any kind of restraint in the real world was acutely aware of every strand and knot binding her body. His handiwork forced her to arch her back, which emphasized her breasts. True, she wore a top and bra, but the covering now seemed transparent. How could it be otherwise with the way he was staring at her breasts?

Her nipples had become erect. Certainly she wasn’t turned on!

But this man was like no other she’d ever been in contact with. There was nothing civilized or restrained about him, nothing soft. It was as if he’d stepped out of some private and sensual recess of her mind.

“Fear isn’t far from eroticism. And you’re feeling both.” He flicked a finger over a nub. She jumped back. “Predictable reaction, just as I know what you’re going to do and feel from now on. Turning your back on everything you’ve ever been or believed about yourself won’t be easy. That, in part, is why we took you back in time to your professional life -- to make the contrast clear.” He made a show of reaching out. Although she back-pedaled, he easily kept pace and closed his thumb and forefinger over her nipple. Despite the two layers of fabric, he held her in place with his grip. “Lots of lessons ahead of you, Asia Drake.”

“How -- how do you know my name?”

“You’ll find out in good time, my time.”

Apparently finished with his ominous pronouncements, he stepped back, folded his arms over his deeply tanned, naked chest, and regarded her. In some respects, his expression reminded her of the look she’d seen too many times on the faces of the company’s brass as she gave her presentations. She’d always hated those “keep her in her place” glares but had never imagined it reaching this level.

This was about survival and freedom. Not a job.

Her arms already ached from unnatural confinement. Did he think the pain would make her beg? Twice she’d groveled before a man. Twice, but never again. The mere idea made her stomach clench.

“Shorter than I thought you’d be. Small bones. Big boobs.” He grabbed her shell’s hem and yanked it up over her breasts, then reached behind her. No doubt, he intended to unhook her bra.

“No!” Whirling away, she ran.

Her heart felt as if it might burst, and her childhood nightmares of monsters closed around her. She ran as if her life depended on it, but not being able to use her arms had her at great disadvantage. What did years of running matter if her restraints held her awkwardly upright?

Though in her soul she knew she couldn’t outrun her captor, still she plowed through the strange vegetation. For a few brief and wonderful moments, she found herself in a relatively open area. The ground-hugging weeds under her feet felt soft, and she could almost believe she smelled fresh-mowed grass.

Too late, she found her flight had propelled her into a canopy of vines and low-hanging branches. They closed around her, caressing and abusing at the same time. She twisted one way and then the other, but although she managed to make some small progress, it was as if she was moving in slow motion. Thinking to protect her face, she tried to lead with her shoulders. Through it all, and despite her contortions, her blouse remained bunched under her armpits.

A weight, maybe a presence broke through her panic. She denied it. Fought her living prison. But when the thick growth closed around her, she stole a glance back over her shoulder.

Him!

She screamed, the sound tearing at her throat, the noise like a wild animal’s. She hated him. She hated him. Desperate, she attacked the vegetation with her nearly useless body. Bit by reluctant bit the brush gave way. By the time she was in the open again, she was coated in sweat.

“Run, run,” her mind chanted. “You have to!” As for how she’d free herself from the bonds --

“A fighter. Good.”

Disbelief clamped off her breath. At nearly the same instant, hands closed around her waist. She was lifted off her feet and shoved forward, landing with such force that she might have been knocked unconscious if he hadn’t tossed her at a bush. The growth gave way, and she sank into the thick growth. Leaves and branches settled over and around her. Legs higher than her head, she couldn’t regain her balance.

She hung helpless in her living prison.

Chapter Four

Blood rushed to Asia’s head. Because her face was surrounded by greenery, she was as good as blindfolded. She expected her captor to pull her out, but he obviously wasn’t in any hurry. Instead, he pushed her skirt over her hips and bunched it around her waist. Then he pulled off what little remained of her pantyhose and patted her ass. To her disbelief, she felt herself respond to the gentle, intimate contact. I’ll be taking you places you’ve never been, the touch seemed to say. The journey will change you, and I’ll be there the whole way.

“Nice ass. Firm. I’m going to enjoy training it.”

“Training?”

“What do you think this is about?”

I don’t know! I don’t know anything!

He continued running his fingers over her buttocks. Although he didn’t slip them under her nearly nonexistent panties, he easily could if he wanted to. “I’m calling the shots. You belong to me, every inch of you.” He ran his hands down her legs, as if gentling a skittish horse. Or checking it for soundness.

She tried to kick him but only succeeded in burying herself further in the bush. His fingers slid over her flesh from knee to calf and back up again, the touch gentle but take-charge. Her muscles jumped under the light pressure. .

“No! Damn you! I’ll have you arrested!”

“The rules are different here, Asia. They exist for those like me, not you and your kind. Eventually you’ll understand. Embrace.”

Nothing made sense. How had she gotten here, wherever here was? What was going to happen to her?

His fingers stilled. A heartbeat later he removed them. Despite her nearly upside down position, she struggled to get a glimpse of him. Did he mean to hurt her? She froze when she felt ropes circle her ankles. This isn’t happening!

The strands around her left ankle tightened. “No!” She kicked wildly again, dislodging the loose rope around her right ankle. But the other remained in place. She continued to thrash, frenzied, until he yanked on the bond and held her left leg suspended behind her. In spite of the undeniable message in his firm grip, she lashed out again and again. At length her muscles threatened to cramp, and she couldn’t catch her breath.

She prayed he’d release the grip on her secured leg and lessen the strain in it. Instead, he easily held her in place while he once again looped rope around the ankle she’d managed to free. Patient and persistent, he finished the too simple task of tying her ankles together, as if all of her struggles meant nothing. The bonds were so snug that her thighs pressed together and trapped her wet and warm core.

Wet? No, she couldn’t possibly be turned on.

Oh god, my fantasy come true.

“Now you’re not going to hurt yourself or wear me out.” He punctuated his remark with yet another possessive pat of her buttocks.

Almost gently, he pulled her out of the brush and set her on her feet. She swayed and would have fallen, if he hadn’t steadied her by grabbing an arm. Because she had no choice, she leaned against him. The sun and the hunt had heated his skin. She smelled his sweat. He was a rock, a mountain, pure strength and power. After a moment, he shifted his hold to her waist, lifted her off her feet and over his shoulder and carried her to a tree. Shoulders wide enough to easily support me. He righted her, propped her against the tree, and stepped back.

“An A package. That’s one of the benefits of having been here for awhile. I get first pick of the new recruits.”

“Here?” Her voice squeaked. She couldn’t bring herself to ask what he meant by a recruit.

“Surrender Island.”

“An -- an island?”

He again folded his arms across his big, naked chest and stared down at her. She felt small. “Feel it. Experience it. Understand. You won’t find it on any maps because it doesn’t exist in the dimension you’re accustomed to. Everything will become clear. Eventually.”

“Why?”

“Because deep down it’s what you want. Your bedroom activities, toys, imagination, and secret needs helped spawn your transportation here. Right now you won’t agree, but you eventually will.” He gave a languid shrug that made her all-too-aware of his athletic build. His chest, biceps, triceps, and thigh muscles reminded her of a body builder’s. Although she’d drooled over such specimens at the gym, she’d always been more than a little intimidated by the jocks’ power and potential. It was one thing to dream about having one in her bed, quite another to actually do it.

His midnight eyes trailed down her body, raking her flesh along the way. Despite their disconcerting intensity, she found she didn’t want him to hurry his study of her. “Your time with me will be memorable. You’ll never forget our relationship.”

“How -- how long ...”

“How long will we be working together?” He reached out and lightly stroked her throat. If he wanted, he could encircle her neck and rob her of air, but like some dumb animal being hauled to the slaughter house, she just stood there. Waited. Besides, despite everything that had happened so far, she didn’t believe he intended to kill or even harm her. When he closed his fingers around her throat, it felt as if he was taking her pulse. “Suspense is a large and vital part of the experience. For the record, I’ve made arrangements to have your belongings placed in storage and the condo put on the market. As for the Buick, it’ll eventually be repossessed.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

* * * * *

Asia’s breasts and chin pressed against her captor’s back. Her bound legs hung over his chest, and her waist was draped over his shoulder. Although she occasionally lifted her head so she could glimpse her jungle-like surroundings, mostly she simply let him carry her. She was dimly aware of an unexpected roughness to his back, ridges where the flesh should be smooth, but lacked the will to try to determine why that was. Everything in her screamed that she should fight her helplessness, but even if she managed to free herself from his grip, what was the point?

Most of the time he held her in place with a muscled arm around her middle, his free arm swinging in time with his long, smooth stride, but occasionally he slipped his fingers between her legs much as the auctioneer in her last sex fantasy had done. When had that been? Had she actually clamped her nipples and masturbated or had it been a dream, something he’d programmed?

Pressure against her pussy served as a reminder of how little protection the hot-red panties provided.

Before he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and they’d taken off, he’d informed her that, for now, he wouldn’t bother gagging her because if she cried out, no one on Surrender Island would pay attention. No one would come to her help. In addition, he’d finished, his decision to allow her to breathe freely and speak would change if she did anything to displease him.

What did he mean by “displease”?

The further they went, the more helpless she felt. Nothing that had happened since she’d been spirited away from the park was within the realm of her comprehension. Obviously her captor was using her ignorance to his advantage, but she had to have answers if she ever hoped to get back to where she belonged -- wherever that was.

Her condo was being sold ... Someone was boxing up her clothing, toiletries, bed and other furniture. Crude and barely literate men might be laughing, even now, when they came across her treasured supply of sex toys.

And, oh god, what about her bondage picture collection? Was that how he’d found her? Was her captor a pervert with a nose or an eye for women with healthy libidos and limited opportunity for getting certain itches scratched? So far, like the man who’d caught her in her fantasy, he’d run her down, removed a few articles of clothing, and tied her up. As they say, the ball was in his court. Hell, she was in his court!

You want this. You’ve always wanted this.

Where had the insane thought come from? If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn that the island itself had spoken.

She had no way of gauging how far they’d come when he stopped and stood her up. The blood that had pooled in her head during her upside-down journey meant she looked out at a blurred world tinged in red. She felt dizzy and weak. Helpless. Waiting.

“Arms getting sore, aren’t they.” He made it a statement.

“Yes. You don’t need to -- I can’t get away.”

“What will you do in exchange for me taking off a rope?”

“Do?”

He slapped her right breast. Slapped it! She tried to step back, lost her balance, and fell, landing on her buttocks. Thank goodness for a carpet of weeds and grasses. He positioned himself so he straddled her outstretched legs and shook his head. “Think before you move. You don’t need to make things worse than they’re going to be.”

“Please let me go. I -- I have some money, a severance package. You can have it all.” Though she bargained for her freedom, the shock of the slap had worn off, leaving a hot awareness, an erotic stinging, in its place.

Eyes all-knowing, but not unkind, he stared down at her. “I don’t need money here.”

If he took another step closer, she’d be able to see up his loincloth, not that she needed to because she’d have to be blind not to realize he had an erection. And his cock was large, huge even. Lordy, lordy! “You -- you can leave.”

“I don’t want to. As long as I’m on the island, I’m supplied with what I’ve been prepared for, specifically subs like you.”

“You mean a submissive? No! This is all wrong! I’d never want --”

“Yes, you do.”

“How can you say --”

He silenced her by placing a foot against her crotch and applying just enough pressure to grab her full attention. Although she warned herself not to, she couldn’t stop herself from trying to scoot away. He let her slide out from under him, but just as she rolled onto her side in preparation for trying to get to her feet, he leaned down and forced her onto her belly.

“Don’t!” she protested. “God damn you, stop it!”

Ignoring her, he removed the rope from her shoulders and the one connecting her elbows to it. Instead of freeing her elbows, though, he grabbed her hair and pulled. When her face was off the ground, he forced rope between her teeth and looped the length around her head twice, gagging her with it. Then he secured the gag behind her head.

“It’s time for you to think about everything I can and will be doing to you -- time to start acknowledging what you are beneath the surface. I know more about your sexual nature than you do -- as does the island. It’s my job to introduce you to the truth about yourself.”

She whimpered into the gag as he tied her wrists and finally freed her elbows. Although she still couldn’t use her arms, at least she no longer felt as if she was in danger of having her shoulders dislocated. Thank you, thank you. Next he did something to her ankle restraints that made it possible for her to separate them by several precious inches. She might even be able to walk, although running was out of the question. But did she want to?

When he brought her upright and turned her to face him, she thanked him with her eyes. “This is only the beginning, slave. From now until I decide different, you don’t have a name. I’ll call you whatever I want, do whatever I want, and you’ll accept it. You have no choice. You’ll come to crave my mastery of you. By the end, you’ll fully understand what it is to be a submissive.” He patted her cheek. “To embrace what you’ve always wanted.”

No, she wanted to scream. But she had fantasized about becoming a sex slave. And he knew.

She was still trying to come to grips with her new reality, when he pulled a knife from the leather tie holding his loincloth in place. Her eyes widened, but this time she didn’t make the mistake of trying to avoid his reach. He fingered her skirt, which had remained bunched around her waist. “You aren’t going to need this any more.” He began cutting. All too soon he’d split the fabric from hem to waist. He pulled it off her, slow and deliberate. Hot humid air stroked her now naked middle. As for her bra and top --

“Anticipation’s part of the game. I could get rid of these, right now --” He slid a finger under the hip-hugging panties. “But I’d rather have you think about the when and how. No suspense about the blouse, though.”

The flimsy silk garment had set her back close to a hundred dollars, but he handled it as if it was a rag when he pressed the knife blade against it. Not long ago, she’d have charged him with destruction of personal property. Now she accepted that was beyond her control. He started at the neckline and slowly worked his way down. Once he’d fully opened it, he slid what remained down her arms until the fabric rested against her wrist bonds.

“For the foreseeable future, you’re going to be naked. Eventually I’ll allow you to wear something, but you have to earn the privilege. And the timing has to be right.”

Something about the way he said timing made her tremble even more. He distracted her by yanking up on her bra and exposing her breasts. He made no move to remove the garment but left it to press down on her mounds. He didn’t touch her breasts, but she had no doubt it was only a matter of time -- his time -- before he did. When he stepped back to study her, she gathered her courage and glanced down at what his loincloth covered.

He was still aroused. And what bulged under what seemed to be soft leather hinted at every red blooded woman’s fantasy. Would he let her touch his cock? Hold it? Suck it?

He cupped a hand under his cock but left it covered. “You’ll get a feel of it in due time, a feel and a taste, but it isn’t going to happen until you’re in heat.”

In heat? Was that a threat, or a promise?

He patted her arm. “I’m not going to rape you, slave. It won’t be necessary because you’re going to want it. Want to fuck and be fucked as you’ve never wanted anything before.”

Never!

But even as she silently protested, she fought the urge to thrust her pelvis at him.

He’d nearly stripped her naked. Eventually he’d finish what he’d begun and touch her everywhere, claim every inch. Her cunt belonged to him. Her legs and breasts. He could tie her in endless ways, slide a dildo into her pussy and a plug up her ass and secure them. Control them. Force a climax out of her or deny her if he wanted.

Hadn’t she cruised the Internet for pictures of women with tight ropes circling and distorting their breasts and more bonds pressing against their pussies? Hadn’t she printed out some of those images and studied them while masturbating because the pictures heightened her self-pleasure? Because she wanted to feel what those women had?

He’s seen them. This time, she was sure of it.

Chapter Five

Asia plodded as rapidly as her ankle ties allowed through dense trees that kept them in deep shadows and turned her captor into more specter than reality. He’d loosely tied a rope around her neck and used the extra length as a leash. She had no choice but to follow like some obedient dog. She tried to study the man so he’d become more human, but concentrating was nearly impossible.

The need to focus on her footing gave her scant opportunity for it, or to think about where they were going. But in those rare moments when she wasn’t struggling to remain upright, she questioned what lay ahead. What had he meant by saying the island was a force? He’d been trying to scare her, that’s all.

Was he taking her to a dungeon? Maybe he had a hut or cabin somewhere. It was possible they were going where there’d be other people who’d take pity on her or let her pay them for her release, people who knew him for the demented Tarzan-like beast he surely was. That was it! He was crazy. He had to be.

Would he be locked up? To her shock, she realized she didn’t want that.

What had he called this place, Surrender Island? Did that mean she wasn’t the only captive here? Oh god, what if he took her to some prison? Would there be bars and locks on the doors, handcuffs and metal collars, chains securing her to rings cemented in stone walls?

She too easily imagined herself being thrown into some cold, damp cell. She’d huddle naked in a corner while forced to listen to unseen women beg and cry and scream. Faceless men would haul her and her fellow sex slaves out of their cells and drag them into large, dark rooms where masters and Doms waited. Driven to their knees with chains dragging on the cement flooring, they’d be whipped as they groveled at their owners’ feet. They’d know to always be available and ready for sex and willingly take any number of cocks in their pussies, asses, and mouths.

Not long ago she’d headed a creative group and had developed the art and skill of leadership. Surely she could put those talents to use in engineering a mass slave break for freedom -- but what if he kept her in isolation?

What if, as he’d hinted, he knew how to make her so horny she couldn’t think of anything else? Already she responded to him. He might know how to make her a slave to her need for a climax -- to willingly do whatever he demanded in hope of release -- to grovel before him while she begged him to fuck her -- no, anything but begging! Nothing he could do would ever reduce her to that again.

An impatient jerk on her leash forced her to pick up her pace. When she’d accomplished that, she went back to studying what she could see of the man. She had to, because her survival and sanity depended on understanding as much as she could about him. Because of the shadows, she couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if someone had decorated his back with strange and random symbols, lines really, but even so in another time and place and situation, she’d definitely be attracted to him.

If she spotted him at a bar, her cheeks would flush, and she’d feel more than a bit tongue-tied. She’d send out an unspoken message designed to let him know she was interested.

A look, a smile, a wink maybe and he’d get up and walk toward her. There’d be no stupid “Where have I seen you before?” No inane “What’s a nice girl like you doing here alone?” Instead, he’d simply say, “Do you want this to go anywhere?”

“Yes,” she’d answer. Yes.

He’d ask her to dance. She’d put down her glass of wine, slide her hand in his and follow him through the minefield of bodies. He’d put his arms around her and hold her close and she’d smell soap and denim.

“I’m not going to ask anything else,” he’d say. “Unless you walk away, right now, I’m taking you to my place. You’ll stay there until I say you can leave. I’ll do what I want to you when I want, and you’ll beg me for more. My terms.”

“I understand. I want.”

“I know you do.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re doing it now. With me.”

“What -- will you do to me?”

Silent, he’d grip her wrists and position her hands behind her. Then he’d lean over her, forcing her off balance. She’d widen her stance to keep from falling. He’d slide his legs within hers and thrust. His insistent cock would prod, demand, promise.

So far she hadn’t met anyone she could imagine taking command like that, but she’d fantasized about letting a man, the right man in on her secret desire to be tied up and have a climax forced out of her. To actually come out and tell someone that, however, she’d need to know him well enough to trust him with her deepest secret.

Now she was under the control of a man who knew that secret, who’d already demonstrated his domination of her body. A man bent on turning her into a sex slave, a slut, a whore, a submissive. Just the thought of becoming those things heated her.

Give it up. Surrender. Let the surrender you crave happen.

But if I do, will there be anything left of me?

There’s only one way to find out.

I’m scared.

“We’re almost home,” he announced. “You’re curious about where you’ll be staying, but you’ll have to wait. Wait for a lot of things.”

She forced herself to stand motionless as he cut what remained of her blouse off her. And when he fashioned a blindfold out of it and robbed her of sight, she shuddered but managed not to struggle. Nothing, not the world, not even the island, existed anymore. There was only him. When he tugged on her leash, she fought her instinct for self-preservation. As he led her down what her feet told her was a sanded path, she bit into the ropes in her mouth and tried not to think about how thirsty she was or contemplate where he was taking her.

She belonged to him. Unless he released her, she would remain his.

No! Not going to happen!

What choice do you have?

I’m scared.

Deal with it. Embrace it.

When he abruptly stopped she strained to see but remained locked within her world of thought and reaction and instinct. Something sleek and sharp touched her throat. His knife. “Feel it, slave. Feel and accept.”

She trembled as he slid the blade down her body. He didn’t break her skin, but she knew how easily he could make her bleed.

He lowered himself to his knees, then untied her ankles. Because she didn’t know where she was or what was around her, she didn’t move. Couldn’t. Standing, he again kissed her throat with the blade. What would his mouth feel like? What would she do if he touched her there with his tongue instead of his weapon?

“Take off your panties.”

How, she wanted to ask, but of course she couldn’t speak. Fighting her helplessness and deep-rooted focus on his every word -- and her reactions to him, she squared her shoulders. She imagined herself as he surely saw her, a gagged and blindfolded woman with her hands tied behind her, naked except for her underpants, trapped in his world. Alone. Completely vulnerable and dependent. Scared and excited and desperately trying not to let him know.

“The panties. Now!”

Propelled by the sharp command, she gnawed at the ropes in her mouth. Heat coiled low in her belly and flickered throughout her pussy.

An object. A piece of meat. His to do as he wanted with. His gift to himself.

Although the reality of her situation washed over her in heated waves, she managed to push the scant fabric over her buttocks. Then she leaned to the side and guided the panties down, down, exposing her crotch. A warm breeze feathered over her recently-shaved flesh. When the sleek fabric reached her knees, she straightened and twisted from side to side until it slithered to her ankles. Caught in the erotic symbolism of the gesture, she stepped out of what little had stood between her and his plans for her. She was all but wrapped up in a neat gift bow for him, scared shitless and barely able to stand the wait for whatever he had in mind.

“That’s a good little slave.”

Don’t call me that, please. I don’t know how to handle it.

“I’m going to release your hands so you can remove your bra,” he said. “You don’t want to make the mistake of reaching for your blindfold, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Maybe you aren’t going to be as hard to train as I’d been led to believe.”

Who had told him about her? Was this some cruel joke on the part of her former employers? But no, she hadn’t been abducted off the street or kidnapped from her condo. Instead, she’d been sucked out of her world and deposited into whatever this was. What was it he’d said, that the island itself had chosen her?

Sensing he’d stepped behind her, she waited breathlessly for him to free her arms. Instead, he surprised her by lightly stroking them. The longer he ran his fingers over her skin, the more she relaxed. He was deliberately disarming her and undermining her defenses, but, in an elemental way, it pleased her. When was the last time she’d been treated like something precious and desirable and malleable?

Had she ever?

When he slid his arm around her neck and pulled her against him, she sighed and let him support her. She imagined her body arched toward him, full breasts jutting out, toned legs spread to help her balance. He tightened an arm around her shoulders and easily held her in place. With the other, he began circling her exposed breasts. Fingertips and palm laid claim to her, the unending contact soft as the silk he’d cut off her. This is mine, the touches proclaimed. You are mine.

Her head fell back and rested against his chest. This man was so strong, so powerful. He could and would turn her into whatever he wanted her to be. By the time he’d finished with her, he’d have remolded her, fundamentally changed her. She almost believed she could hear his heart beating, but maybe she was responsible for the sound.

“So lonely,” he whispered. “So hungry.”

She didn’t care. Nothing mattered except being locked in a sightless, wholly tactile world. His fingers laid claim to every inch of her breasts, the touches telling her that he now owned them but promised to be a kind if demanding master. She moaned into her gag.

“Not fighting me, are you, slave. That’s the last thing you’re thinking of right now, isn’t it?”

Incapable of lying, she shook her head.

“There are two sides to every human,” he went on in a low and seductive tone. He closed his fingers over a nipple but with none of his earlier punishing grip. “Yin and yang. Push and pull. I have you on my hook. Sometimes I’ll let you play with the line. I’ll insist you fight and give you all the line you crave. Just when you think you can’t take any more, I’ll let you rest and regroup so you almost believe you’re free.” He rolled her nub from side to side. Heat wrapped around her, and she tried to thrust her ass at him. “You’ll forget there’s a hook in you. Then I’ll reel you in, I’ll net you and haul you into my boat. You’ll feel my hands all over you as I remove the hook, but you won’t know whether I’ll keep you or throw you back.”

She couldn’t concentrate. How could she with her nipple between his fingers and her back pressed against his naked chest? His toy. His possession. His everything. A moan fought for freedom, and the heat between her legs became a flame. She felt fresh moisture gather around her labia.

“I’m not throwing you back. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll beg me to keep you. Use you. Work and reward you. Sometimes punish you. No matter what I do to you -- and it’ll be more than you can imagine -- you’ll embrace it because it’s your nature.”

My nature?To beg? No!

But before she could protest, he shifted his hold and began a slow journey down over her belly that nearly had her screaming. She opened her legs further and tilted her pelvis toward him. He repositioned his restraining arm so it flattened her breasts and turned her toward him a little, increasing his access to her pussy. Panting into the gag, she widened her stance. If only he’d let her see! And yet blindness forced her deep into herself where sensation simmered and grew.

“Hunger and feeding. Sometimes I’ll starve you.” He demonstrated by first lightly slapping and then removing his hand from her mons. Leaving her untouched where she needed it the most. “Then when you believe you’ll die if you have to wait another second, I’ll feed you.” He closed his palm around her offered cunt. “But you’ll never know what is going to happen when. What buttons I’ll push and when, or how.” A finger flicked her clit, and her legs shook. “That’s the beauty of what’s ahead for you. And the hell.”

Still, she thrust her sex to him. Her hips moved from side to side. His thumb and forefinger close around her labia. Hit with an almost-electric jolt, she jumped. Instead of releasing her, he pressed the hot and sensitive flesh together, sealing her opening. “Don’t like this, do you,” he muttered when she fought to shake him off. “You want to be full, not empty.”

Trembling, panting, hating him and fearing herself, she waited. When he loosened his hold on her, she prayed he’d plunge his cock into her weeping opening. No. She didn’t want him, damn it! He had no right, no right! But if he cast her off, she’d go insane.

Perhaps he’d read her splintered mind because a long, thick finger slide into her. Pressed against her. So good. Not being able to anticipate what he was going to do next heightened her reaction, that and the bold, demanding intimacy. The dark and dangerous stranger of countless fantasies had become reality. He existed, had substance, understood so much about her.

“Wet. Drenched and hot. You’re a hungry little piece, aren’t you?”

Beyond caring, she nodded and tried to close herself around him so she could hold him inside her. His finger fed some of her hunger. It was better than nothing but not enough. With the heel of his hand, he pressed against her inner thighs -- a wordless order to remain open and accessible to him. Willing to do whatever she had to for the climax she needed more than she needed breath, she remained as still as she could. But soon, please! Quick and hard! Before she lost her mind.

His finger explored and retreated, circled her inner recesses, branded her there and made her core his. Her leg muscles felt like jelly, and she could barely keep her feet under her. Couldn’t find the boundaries between them.

He slipped another finger in to join the first.

Don’t! I can’t handle --

“Experience. Don’t think. Feel.”

Don’t want! Don’t dare.

“Stop fighting yourself, slave. Your cunt is speaking to you. Let yourself hear it.”

Hear. Feel. With terrible clarity, she now understood why he’d robbed her of sight and speech. The senses he’d left her with took over, and despite the terrible danger, she gave herself up to sensation. His fingers filled her, invaded, possessed, owned. With her other senses, she’d have been able to tell herself that she was a modern professional and embrace everything she’d spent her adulthood becoming. But now, the firm pressure and movement throughout her pussy took her beyond those petty concerns.

She was a slave, not just to him, but to her own sexuality.

“You don’t yet fully understand what I’m doing and what you want to happen. You just know you need what I have or rather what you pray I’ll give you.” The dance of retreat and advance increased, fingers fucking, teasing, taunting, owning, promising but not yet delivering. “This is what will turn you into what you’re destined to become. Not ropes or chains and leather although that’s going to be part of it. Not even whips. But your own body. Your nature.”

He rammed his fingers in as far as they would go. She gasped, struggled to breathe, couldn’t. Her teeth clenched down on the gag. She fought her blindness. Can’t take! Can’t take --

The pressure held, impaling her. She felt him in her belly. Her entire awareness centered on his hand, on the relentless gift. He lifted her by her cunt, stood her on her toes and still he pressed harder, deeper, dared her to expel him. Challenged her to try.

Climax waited. Her muscles clenched, and she sucked in air. Raced toward the edge.

“No.” He pulled out of her. “No. No. No.”

Her pussy muscles clenched again, this time in frustration. She thrashed her head about and cursed into the gag. Compelled by her inner heat, she thrust out her pelvis and blindly searched for him.

“Not going to happen, not yet,” he said from somewhere to her right.

Please, please, please!

“You’re calling me a bastard, aren’t you?”

Yes!

“I am. I’m also your salvation. But before that happens, I need to prepare you for your next lesson in relinquishing ownership of your body, and soul.”

Body?Soul? Sanity was starting to return along with the feel of damp jungle air now mixing with her juices. Fluid ran down her fevered thighs.

At least a minute passed before she felt rope around her waist. At the first touch, her muscles clenched.

Ropes symbolized a loss of freedom, of helplessness, manipulation.

Ownership.

She counted three loops around her waist followed by a quick tie. A length of rope hung down her legs in front. What are you going to do with that? Please, tell me something, anything. When he pressed his palms against her breasts, she braced herself.

“I’m not going to knock you down, at least not now. I just needed to see if you remembered what I’m capable of. You understand, don’t you? If I shove, you’ll fall, right?”

She nodded.

“You can’t stop me, can you?”

She shook her head.

“I can punish you any time and in any way I choose, right?”

Another nod. Tears brimming. She squeezed her eyes shut, grateful for the cloth over them.

“I’m in charge of everything. It’s my role. What and when and if you eat or sleep. Your body.” He abruptly released her breasts, snatched the loose rope, and threaded it between her legs. Although she struggled to close her stance, he easily tugged the cord against her labia. He briefly held and then wrapped it around the coil circling her waist. He knotted the crotch rope in place. “Now not even your cunt belongs to you any more.” He proved his point via a quick, hard tug that left her panting. When he released the rope she discovered that it tightly hugged her labia but wasn’t what she’d call painful -- yet. Everything centered around that part of her body.

“What I’ve just done is pretty basic.” He lightly tugged. “Nothing sophisticated about a rope chastity belt, or trigger if that’s how I decide to use it.” A third jerk left no doubt of his intention. She stood on her toes. “From what you’ve seen and experienced so far, you probably believe the island is peopled with savages. That we live in caves.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her in what felt like a circle. “I assure you we have all the amenities you’re accustomed to, and more. In time I’ll introduce you to the refinements we’ve developed for our purposes.” He gave the crotch rope another breath-stealing tug that brought her back onto her toes and ignited another unwanted heat-flash in her clit. “The refinements, the techniques are inventive and effective. You’ll beg me for demonstrations. Whatever it takes for your rewards, you’ll comply. First, you’ll have to earn them.”

A wave of libido-fed confusion washed over her. Hot tears stained what had a short time ago had been her blouse. She who’d vowed to never cry or beg again would have done anything to regain control over her responses.

Once again he let a full minute pass before he touched her. This time he untied her hands and briefly rubbed her wrists until circulation had been restored. Despite her gratitude, she wanted to claw out his eyes. Instead, she remained docilely in place because he’d demonstrated how easy it was for him to impose his will on her. And because sexual frustration continued to chew at her nerves. If she complied with his every command, would he grant her a climax?

“Do you remember what I told you?” he asked.

No. How can you expect me to think?

“You have two seconds.”

For what?

He slapped one breast and then the other. Gasping, she tried to turn away. He grabbed her hair and held her in place. Another stinging slap had her struggling again. His grip tightened, pulling her head to the side. He repeatedly struck her right breast until the pain centered there became everything.

“I’m sorry.” She prayed he could understand her. “I’m sorry. I --”

“I can’t hear you, slave. Make yourself clear.”

He continued to force her off balance as he gripped her newly punished nipple and squeezed. She yelped into the gag.

“Think! One simple command. What was it?”

“Bra!”

“Bingo.” He released the throbbing nub. “Do it, now.”

Her nose ran and her clumsy fingers shook, but finally she managed to unhook the back fastening.

“Hand it to me,” he ordered before she could drop the useless garment.

Chastised and defeated, she held out her hand. She saw herself as he doubtlessly did, a trembling captive robbed of sight and speech standing naked and defenseless and compliant before the man who’d proclaimed himself as her lord and master. Surely she wasn’t the only one who smelled her sweat and need.

After making her wait, he took the bra from her. Then he draped it over the back of her neck next to the rope he’d placed there. When he’d arranged it to suit himself, he snagged her right wrist and tied it behind her again by securing it to the waist rope. She expected him to repeat the process with her left. Instead, he closed his own large, strong paws around it, trapping it. He applied pressure.

“A pretty little thing. Slender fingers. Manicured nails. Unfortunately, you’ve had your last manicure.”

Why that statement sent her over the edge she couldn’t say. All she knew was that she could no longer hold up her head. “Pleez,” she muttered against the gag. “Pleez.”

Her cry earned her a harsh jerk on her untethered hand, which brought her head up again. Her just-uttered plea filled her with self-loathing. His breathing was harsh as he yanked her arm behind her and secured it against her ass as he’d done with the first.

He slapped each breast in turn. “Don’t beg.”

Awash in emotions both new and old, for a while she stood where he’d positioned her, but at length she couldn’t take the unknown. Step by tentative step she walked in a exploratory circle. Packed sand felt warm under her feet. Although being nude made her feel unbelievably vulnerable, she loved the damp warmth on her flesh. The breeze caressing her skin felt gentle and soothing. She heard birds singing. At least she assumed they were birds. She’d never heard quite that sound before. She’d always loved getting as far from exhaust fumes and skyscrapers as possible. It was why she ran in the park.

Maybe there weren’t any spirit-crushing prisons, dungeons, or cages here.

Wherever here was.

When she thought she’d returned to approximately the same spot she’d been standing in when her captor deserted her, she stopped and strained to hear more. Because she couldn’t see, she relied on her other senses but didn’t learn anything she didn’t already know. Maybe one thing. Every step she took caused the crotch rope to rub against sensitive flesh and remind her of how close he’d taken her to the release and reward of a climax. Her arousal had faded but remained. Undoubtedly he knew how to re-ignite the flame.

“On your knees.”

Swallowing a squeak, she froze. Then, prompted by reminders of his ability to inflict pain, she did as he ordered. Kneeling tightened the rope’s grip on her pussy. She struggled ineffectively to lessen the impact.

“Got your attention, did it?” She had no doubt he was referring to the pressure he’d imposed on her abused sex. “Get used to it. If I so decide, there’s never going to be a minute when you aren’t being stimulated -- and frustrated. Maybe I’ll let you climax. Maybe I’ll keep you on the brink.” He patted her on the head. “Studies have shown that unrelenting sexual frustration can drive a person crazy. You don’t want that. Not that you can do anything about it.”

He continued patting her. Although she felt demeaned and diminished by the gesture, that too she couldn’t do anything about. Besides, not that she’d ever admit it, his hand on her was comforting -- and more. From the moment he’d run her down, he’d tapped into and commanded her sexuality. He dictated her responses. He knew which buttons to push, where her triggers were, and how to keep electricity flowing through her. In his hands, her most secret dreams might become reality.

A dildo.An ass plug. Clamps on my nipples. I’ll grovel before you, lick your feet, take you any way you want.

“Time to see your prison.”

He untied her blindfold and yanked it off with a flourish. At first everything was a blur. Then she made out a stone-like structure a few feet away. It wasn’t as large as her condo and had no windows. Instead, bars decorated several small openings. She couldn’t see a door. The jungle grew right up to the stone and looked as if it could easily swallow the man-made structure.

My prison.

She had no idea what material the roof was made out of. It resembled palm fronds except that it looked more substantial. From what she could tell, there were no other buildings around. The prison seemed to be part of the vegetation, isolated and inescapable. Locked in it, she’d be as helpless as if she still wore ropes.

At his disposal.

His to play with and command.

“Looks are deceiving,” he said with his hand still on the top of her head. “The interior is quite innovative. There’s a porch on the opposite side, at least porch is as good a name to give it as anything. You’ll be spending time there, too.”

Too.

She told herself she should have gotten a grip on her emotions by now, should have steeled herself against waves of fear, but ordering and doing were proving to be worlds apart. Even though she hated doing so, she wilted toward her captor’s legs. He must have anticipated her need for reassurance. Anticipated and denied because he gave her a rough shove, which sent her sprawling onto her side. The crotch rope bit into her and sealed itself around her core. She remained where he’d forced her and stared up at him.

“I’m not your protector.”

Chapter Six

Her captor -- she didn’t dare think of him as her master -- forced her to remain where he’d placed her for maybe a half minute before using the crotch rope to again haul her to her feet. Being controlled by pressure against her labia made it difficult for her to think about anything else. Still, she struggled to obey his unspoken commands.

The effort left her both spent and feeling diminished, proof she didn’t need that he more than held the upper hand and had no hesitancy in using it against her. What he didn’t understand was the depth of her resolve to retain her pride.

He hauled her by that intimate leash around the stone building to what she suspected was the only door. She was so intent on the massive, metal door and the sensation of being led that she could only take in the basic details of the porch. It was no more than ten feet square, maybe two feet off the ground and enclosed by what looked like cyclone fencing, only thicker. It wasn’t a porch so much as a cage. He’d have no problem forcing her to live within its confines.

“Down,” he ordered as soon as he brought her inside.

She obeyed. This time she refused to look up at him. He released the leash and stepped back. She felt his gaze rake over her exposed body but continued to stare at the floor. Even when he circled her, his bare feet slapping on the flooring, she did everything within her power to ignore him. Encouraged by her small victory, she straightened her spine. The effort tightened the rope imprisoning her labia. The thoroughly soaked rope.

“Up.”

Because she had no use of her hands and he wasn’t helping, it took several awkward attempts before she got her feet under her. The labor heated her cheeks and throat, and the strands between her legs clung to her.

Earlier she’d been intimidated by the jungle’s deep shadows, but that was nothing compared to her prison’s gloomy interior. No lights, if there were any, were on. The walls closed in around her and trapped her within her imagination and her dependence on the Tarzan-man who’d roped her.

Tarzan? Funny how she hadn’t thought about the fictional jungle-god since she was a girl. Young and impressionable with a just-budding sexuality, she’d wondered what living with Tarzan would be like. He’d be the ultimate hunter of course and always provide her with fresh meat. He’d also bring home delicious fruits along with just-picked wildflowers. No dangerous snake, panther, alligator, or other wild animal would dare threaten her, and whatever savages lived in the jungle would leave them alone. They’d live in the ultimate treehouse complete with an awesome view. Her days would be leisurely and peaceful. He’d cater to her, giving her massages and keeping her in comfortable clothing. She didn’t get as far as the nights or what sleeping in the same bed entailed.

At that thought, her attention went to her prison’s bed, or rather what passed as a bed, in the too-small room’s far corner. It obviously hadn’t been designed primarily for sleep. Not only weren’t there any covers, but what served as a mattress was so thin, she could tell it lay on a metal platform. It stood waist high to a tall man, which her captor was, with enough space between it and the smooth, gray wall that he could easily walk around it. The multitude of metal rings bolted or welded to the frame’s edges, some with chains dangling from them, left no doubt that she wouldn’t be spending much time on her feet.

Flitting images of what he intended to do to her while she was confined to the bed filled her with an equal mix of fear and anticipation she wasn’t sure she succeeded in keeping from him. Hell, she’d often fantasized about being chained and toyed with and had then rewarded herself with semi-satisfying self-imposed climaxes. Having her dreams about to become reality, having a living, breathing Dom running things felt unreal and yet pre-ordained.

Her mind shied away from the nerve-wracking thoughts and she returned to a survey of her surroundings. Instead of carpet, she was standing on what felt like a rubber mat. Looking around, she discovered that the entire floor was covered with the dense substance. It had some give to it but not much. There were two small openings to the outside in addition to the door, and they were heavily barred -- just like what she’d seen during her first and only tour of Alcatraz. Not even a small child could squeeze through the bars.

She didn’t want to think about what she’d find in the large cupboard that had been built into the wall opposite the bed. Neither was she brave enough to contemplate what might be beyond the closed metal interior door. It took all the self-control she could muster to accept the reality of rings, chains, and ropes.

This was really happening! Fantasy turned into reality -- overwhelming reality.

“I don’t live here.” His powerful voice interrupted her thoughts, knocking her off balance again. “You’d like my home. By earth reckoning, it’s about a mile from here, not far from the village, although you’ll probably think of that as a compound or fort -- for reasons you’ll understand when you’re ready to be taken there to be sold.”

Sold?

“I’ll explain that when I’m ready.” Once again, he seemed to read her mind. “The island boasts a number of training facilities such as this one, each equipped to meet the needs and wishes of individual trainers and subs. Although I’m in the process of designing another more suited for an effective indoctrination, this will do.”

If she hadn’t known better, she’d believe she was a client being shown what he hoped she would consider adequate office space.

“I’m going to briefly remove your gag.” His intense gaze never left her. “The pros and cons of allowing a new slave to speak have long been debated, but I’ve learned that the more one knows about her future, the sooner she accepts it.”

Future? He made it seem dire and desirable all at once.

He again erased the distance between them. It took all her self-control not to back up. He gently yet possessively stroked her temple, before tugging on the ropes in her mouth which forced her to open it. He made her feel like a horse with a bit in her mouth. He could mount her and crop her buttocks until she broke into a gallop. And when she’d finished the race, he might steer her into a barn and lock her within a stall. Maybe he’d rub her down and feed and water her. Maybe he’d switch from bridle to halter and tie her to a post. What if he brought in a stallion to service her?

What if he was that stallion?

“Your ability to comprehend the nuances of my training methods and your position are key to your progress. I deliberately used the word briefly. You need to learn what you are and aren’t allowed to say. One wrong word, and it’s time for a true gag. I have a sizeable collection, each with its own purpose. I prefer not to use them but sometimes they’re more effective than other techniques. All are effective. Highly effective.”

With that, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her away from him. A moment later the strands in her mouth loosened. She licked her dry lips but didn’t try to look back at him. Neither did she speak. If only she could stop trembling. Despite everything, she loved the feel of his hands on her.

“You’ve made progress, and you haven’t made the mistake most new slaves do of trying to bargain for their freedom, since I first captured you. I appreciate it. Now, one question. If I find it acceptable, I’ll let you ask another.”

Her thoughts were already so tangled she didn’t know if she was capable of speech. At the top of her list was the question of what the training would entail, but she was certain he wouldn’t tell her. She wanted to please him. She had to! She could again try to bribe him, maybe throwing in her body this time, but he could take it if he wanted to. Whatever happened, she didn’t want him thinking less of her than he did.

“Nothing?” He turned her back around. His features remained stern as he closed his fingers over her nipples and squeezed. “So you’re ready for a gag that’ll truly silence you?”

“No! No.” The second time the word didn’t sound quite so close to panic, and she prided herself on not fighting his intimate hold. “Ah, please, what’s your name?” She refused to look at what he was doing to her breasts.

Surprise flickered in his deep eyes and his grip slackened. “My name?”

“Yes. I want to know who you are.”

“I’m your master.”

Only in my dreams. “You know so much about me.”

“Not everything.” The pressure on her nipples returned. “But by the time I’m done with you I will.”

To her relief, he again backed off on his breast-hold. Although he still held her in place, the pain had receded enough that she was able to think. From his expression she wondered if none of his captives had asked him his name before. Perhaps they’d been too self-absorbed.

“I’ve become Zemar.”

“Ze-mar?”

“The lion.”

He was a lion, wasn’t he? Proud and confident, strong, afraid of nothing. King of this jungle at least. And maybe hers. “You’ve become?” she blurted. “What were you before?”

“A man hell-bent on killing himself. Self-destructive. Filled with demons.”

“Why?” Staring at him, she felt as if she was looking deep into a cave.

“Too damn many reasons.” He pulled her hard against him.

You’re hiding yourself from me. Why?

Perhaps he sensed her questions because he wrapped his arms around her and tilted his pelvis toward her, not that she needed proof of his erection. He repeatedly thrust at her. If not for his loincloth, he might have penetrated her. Would he throw her on the bed or floor and force himself on her? If he did, she’d stop fighting her responsiveness, her compassion for his complexity and simply hate him.

But no. Instead, breathing hard, he abruptly shoved her away. She managed to keep her balance, but the effort caused the crotch rope to tease and torment.

She refused to be distracted. “What reasons, Zemar?”

He briefly closed his eyes. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Why were you trying to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t say I was.”

“Weren’t you?”

The question earned her several sharp slaps on her breasts. Tears stung her eyes. He closed a hand around her jaw and tilted her head up so she had to stare at him.

See my tears. Know what you’ve done to me.

As if reading her mind, he wiped them away. “In some respects I was like you, Asia. Driven by my demons.”

“I don’t have any demons!”

“Yes, you do. And when I’ve learned everything about them, I’ll turn them into your greatest weakness.”

“What -- what is your weakness?” Please don’t lock yourself off from me. Be human.

His mouth twitched. “I don’t have any.”

“The hell you don’t!” He had to. If he didn’t, there was no hope, nothing to use as leverage.

Her outburst earned her something she took as a nod of respect. “What you don’t understand is there’s nothing I’m afraid to tackle. I courted death as an adult because I’d already been close to it as a child. There wasn’t anything left to fear.”

“I don’t understand.” She wanted to. Needed to. It seemed so important, as if it would make this somehow more bearable if she could grasp what made him tick.

“It doesn’t matter. The man I was then no longer exists.”

You’re wrong. He wouldn’t have just slipped out if that was true.

“Before I was brought here, I waited for the Grim Reaper to strike. Hell, I courted him, but he just stood there watching me self-destruct. I stayed as sane as possible by imagining what I’d do if I was the one with power.”

“With women?”

“In part, yes.”

“How? By fucking them?”

“That and tying them up and doing whatever I wanted. Feeling my strength, making it work. But I was a law-abiding man back then so all I did was dream. Whenever my world felt out of control, I wrapped my fantasy around me. I’m sure you understand. Then one day fantasy became the real thing.”

“Like you’re saying it is with me?”

“I wasn’t prey. I was predator. By the time my education was complete, I had a new career. A new mission.”

“Mission?”

“Transforming women into slaves.”

“Why?”

Even in the dim lighting, his expression left no doubt that she’d gone too far. “Stay there,” he ordered and stepped back. Mouth dry, she studied his every move as he walked over to the cupboard and opened a drawer. There indeed was a great deal of the lion in him, a smooth meshing of muscles, pride and confidence. Power and strength. Something about his back once again caught her attention, but she couldn’t see it well enough to know what that was.

When he turned around, she noted he was holding an item that resembled a bridle only it was too small for a horse. “No more questions, slave. You’re going to remain silent until I decide otherwise.”

Even though it might earn her punishment, she couldn’t stop herself from back-pedaling as he approached. Displaying no emotion, he easily caught up to her and grabbed the crotch rope. She struggled to break free. He yanked up.

“No!” he commanded. Trembling so much it made her breasts jiggle, she widened her stance to keep her legs from buckling. When he shoved a thick wooden bar into her mouth, she meekly accepted it. The bar was connected to two metal rings and lengths of what felt like leather were attached to the rings. He positioned the leather behind her head and tightened the lengths. She heard something click. The rings pressed against her cheeks, the bit held in place by the leather. The rope gag had been bad enough but this contraption had been designed for a single purpose -- silencing the wearer.

Chapter Seven

When Zemar returned to the cupboard, Asia warned herself to concentrate on his movements so she could anticipate and maybe formulate a plan, but she couldn’t wrench her mind free of what he’d admitted. Despite letting her know his goal was to tap into something basic and primal about her, to make her his creature, he’d reached out and begun the threads of a conversation between them. But then he’d forcefully severed that connection.

Finished with whatever he’d been doing, he faced her again. Knowing that he’d named himself for a killing jungle beast should have terrified her. Instead, somehow his choice humanized him. It made him no longer just her powerful captor but a man. A man with substance, weight, and emotional burdens. With an effort, she shifted her gaze from his face’s sharp, dark features and focused on what he was carrying.

Metal. A single large circular band with two smaller bands attached to it via a metal chain no more than three inches long. The large band was some two inches wide, the outside hard and gleaming, the inside padded with something soft-looking. The same was true of the smaller bands. She had no doubt that these were handcuffs.

He placed the large band around her waist with the smaller ones behind her and snapped it shut. The contraption hugged her skin, but what felt like fur kept it from hurting her. She supposed she should be grateful for the small consideration, but metal had a permanence missing from rope. She might be able to sever a rope if she could rub it against something. Hard steel, however, would remain around her until her captor chose to free her. Sweat again coated her. What did he need with this building when he had such restraints?

He freed one hand but only long enough to transfer it to the handcuff. A moment later he’d done the same with her second wrist. True gratitude flooded through her when he removed the crotch rope, but when the pressure against her cunt no longer claimed her attention, helplessness again licked at her nerves. Her arms were secured behind her with her wrists at the small of her back, elbows bent, breasts and pussy exposed.

“On your knees.”

She dropped to the ground. Only when she was staring up at him did she acknowledge how easily he’d commanded her. Damn it, she was a thinking, feeling human being with rights.

What rights?

“On your back. Legs spread.”

No, she said with her eyes. I’m not ready for this! “On your back. Now!”

By way of answer, she pressed her legs together and glared up at him. At the same time, she steeled herself for a slap, maybe a hard blow. Instead, he gave her a long look before he stepped behind her, grabbed her hair, and pulled her down. Grunting into the bit, she struggled to get her feet back under her, but he stood on her hair and kept her on her side on the flooring.

“We can do this hard or easy.” Leaning down, he stroked the valley between her breasts. Her shock at his rough treatment faded. How easily he switched her from one emotion to another, from wishing he’d die to needing his touch. “But either way, the outcome’s going to be the same.” When he straightened, his stance afforded her her first unobstructed look at his cock. The man was indeed huge, hard, potent. He’d fill her as his fingers never could. With him buried deep in her, she’d share in strong thrusts and her fluids would blend with his, making their movements smooth and natural. Right. How long would it take for her to climax? Maybe she’d come before he did. Over and over again.

“Today you’re getting your first lesson in being a productive member of the island.” He glanced down at her and shrugged. “If you fight me, it’ll take a little longer, and I’ll enjoy the process more. In fact, I prefer a trainee who battles. But you may as well know, I’ve already won.”

Won what? She desperately wanted him to tell her but suspected she already knew. Her body’s surrender was the prize. And he was right. Her shackled hands, the gag, and the rope around her neck existed as vivid proof of his superiority.

Should she simply give up and let him demonstrate what he had in mind for her? Prepare her to be “sold.”

Surrender her will, her body.

No! Twice in her life she’d experienced a man’s ability to reduce her to a sobbing, heartbroken creature. She might dream of being a sub, but it would never happen in the real world.

If she wanted to beat him, she would have to pick her battles well. She couldn’t win this one, not now when he was at full alert, so she forced her body to relax. Let him believe she was beaten. The only thing she wouldn’t do was cry. She’d rob him of his so-called fun.

He lifted his foot off her hair but didn’t step away. When she continued to lie there, he nodded what she took as approval. “Legs straight and spread.”

She complied.

“Stay like that. Don’t move.”

Remaining splayed while he returned to the cupboard she already despised, put her in mind of a dog being kept at its master’s side during a training session. Obviously he didn’t give a damn that much of her weight now rested on her tethered hands. This time when he returned, he didn’t let her see what he’d selected.

“Bend your knees and turn them out so your cunt’s exposed.”

You can’t be serious! If you think --

“Now!” He slapped her belly.

She tried to tell herself that she’d done something close to this during physicals and spreading her legs to invite a man in for sex was part of a heady experience, but neither of those experiences had anything to do with today. She tried to remember to be docile and pick her battles. But this was so --

He slapped her belly again, forcefully recalling his earlier treatment of her breasts. Cursing behind the gag, she revealed herself. She’d been keeping her head off the rubber mat but could no longer do so. Now she stared at the awful ceiling with implements of imprisonment dangling from it and fought to divorce herself from her body.

His fingers tugged her labia. Her cunt heated in mindless reaction. Once again her juices flooded her, and the wonderful hot knot signaling the potential and promise of a climax clamped onto her. He’d have to be a fool if he didn’t notice the signals, but he didn’t say anything.

How far could he take her?

What would remain of her by the end?

He was sliding something inside her. It felt as large and long as a well-hung cock but lacked softness. A dildo! Did it vibrate?

Shit, how much do you know about my secret desires?

Sweat drenched the small of her back. Her toes dug into the flooring, and she tried to shove herself away from him. He stopped her miniscule movements by pressing his splayed fingers down on her belly. Heeding the inescapable message, she struggled to relax as the invasion continued its way into her, spreading delicate tissues and promising a mastery that excited her on a deep and primitive level. Excited her and terrified her.

Although she’d never been crazy enough to do it, she’d imagined placing a remote-control bullet in her pussy and wearing it at work. Occasionally triggering vibrations that would bring her dangerously close to coming, and even when it simply rested inside her, she’d be aware of it. That, like the heady fantasy of having a Dom do it for her, had remained a figment of her imagination. Until now.

Only when she felt a flared base made from the same material cup her labia did she wrench her mind free of her images and focus on the reality. The dildo filled her, commanded her attention, spoke to her of size and mastery and mystery.

Out of her hands. Everything that was about to happen would be out of her hands. At his control and direction, his. She hadn’t been auctioned and sold, but close, so close.

What was coming next? She didn’t dare look.

She bit her lip when she felt something being placed around her hips. Battling the instinct to cry out in protest took incredible effort. Oddly, it also increased her awareness of how turned on she was. Strange how closely related helplessness and the need to be fucked had become.

She flinched when he snaked what she thought was leather between her legs and fastened the crotch-binding to the hip harness. Securing the crotch restraint against her, he trapped the large dildo inside her. The pussy invader became as much a part of his domination as the wrist restraints. And like the handcuffs and gag, she’d remain wedded to it for as long as he wanted.

“Back on your knees!”

Uncertain and trembling, she fought her way off the ground. The intrusion had no give to it, forcing her to modify her movements and position to accommodate its bulk. Again tears threatened to film her eyes. He held something the size of a cell phone. Oh shit, someone, maybe him, had been reading her mind, maybe for years.

No doubt, fantasy was about to become reality. Her nostrils flared. She locked her eyes on his and felt herself begin to shrink, becoming less. At the same time, anticipation gripped her.

“High tech,” he informed her. “On the Earth you’ve spent your life on so far, vibrators are run by batteries or electricity, but here we’ve designed toys run by solar energy.”

Not on Earth? Where are we? Does it matter?

“Solar energy outperforms batteries hands down. Let me demonstrate.” He pushed something on the object in his hand.

Asia immediately felt movement in her pussy. The object was rapidly swelling and contracting. No longer rigid, it began flexing as if multi-hinged. A cock, one hell of a cock! One hell of an improvement on the standard model vibrator, too. “Mmmm,” she mumbled.

“Just getting started.” He let her see him push again. The vibrations stepped up a notch. Moaning again, she straightened and tried to distance herself from the sensation. But of course she couldn’t. And didn’t really want to. Another push resulted in vibrations so intense she could no longer think of anything else. Frantic to anticipate the pulsations, she began rocking back and forth. Oh God, oh God!

“It gets better, much better. Although you might not agree with that particular word.”

The internal gyrations ignited tissues both in and around her pussy. Movement radiated out to her belly, hips, thighs, even her heart. Each vibration prompted a short-circuited reaction in her clit, almost as if she was being assaulted by electrical currents. Because she couldn’t jerk free, she endured, felt, experienced.

Although she’d wondered what losing her sanity via sexual stimulation would feel like, she’d never let a man take the lead. She’d always been an equal partner when it came to foreplay and intercourse. Not an object. Not helpless. She’d only dreamed. Pretended.

Zemar changed everything. As effortlessly as he controlled the incredible power locked inside her, he controlled her nerves and flesh and robbed her of intellect. For a brief and confusing moment, he stopped all movement, and she panted out her attempt to manage her body’s reactions. Surely she could weather this! Surely she controlled her system, not him!

Then he added heat and rolling waves that forced her head back and her legs wide. Holy shit! Sweat ran between her breasts. Her nipples tightened and clamped. She felt the same relentless tension in her cunt. No escape. No relief.

Torture. Ecstasy.

Her eyes bulged, and although she hated herself for it, she couldn’t stop from shooting him a desperate plea for relief. He ignored her stare and hit yet more buttons. The invader became hotter, the waves more intense. At the same time it pulsed, promised, demanded. She rode out the fantastic assault. She felt no pain. Instead of fear, her overloaded system bellowed in anticipation.

Go, go, go! Oh shit, please, now!

Kneeling tied and mute, stripped naked in a room with no way out, ripped from her life and world, sweating and gasping, under a determined and relentless man’s control, she raced up a mountain and stood ready to catapult into space. She had no parachute and didn’t give a damn. A chasm yawned.

She fell into it, fell and fell and fell. He continued the assault, even kicking it up until she felt as if she was at the epicenter of an earthquake. The tremors went on and on. She heard herself scream. The gag muffled much of the sound and shoved it back down her throat. The trapped scream helped fuel the explosion and kept it going.

A rollercoaster. No brakes. No end. Nerves firing and misfiring.

Stop! Please stop! She started screaming but only useless grunts and sobs tore at the air. The instrument of torture and delight continued to work her. Even the base was in motion. She dimly acknowledged something hard like rubber clamped around her clit.

Can’t take -- oh shit! Can’t take any more!

Yes, you can. You have no choice, a voice in her head insisted. Heat licked at her flesh. She wondered if she might catch fire. Maybe she was already burning.

Heated waves rolled over her, tossing her higher and higher. Suddenly and deeply terrified, she rode the relentless surges. Too much! Too much.

“Enough?”

Yes, yes, yes!

“For now anyway.”

The instrument of her undoing started to quiet, brakes being applied. She loved sex, loved the sweet, hot feeling that accompanied a climax. But this had been -- been what?

Not been. It still was.

She was being brought down slow, her system returning to her bit by bit and yet changed. She felt her tingling toes and fingers. Her clenched jaw ached. Her belly remained knotted and electrical charges nibbled at her thighs. Her pussy sobbed, sex-tears drenching the dildo and flowing out to slick her legs.

“Live in the moment, slave. Don’t try to be anything else.”

No choice. No choice. Still melting. Finally, thankfully, all movement stopped. Thank you. Holy shit, thank you.

Weak as a newborn, she slumped over her knees. If she’d dared, she would have collapsed onto her side. But she had to remain alert, try to anticipate. Relief might not last.

“A lesson,” he said. “A hard one but far from the last. When I said you belong to me, this is what I meant. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll do whatever your master wants.” He cocked his head as if waiting for her to agree. “As for whether, when, or under what circumstances you’ll be granted another ride like this one or even a fraction thereof, that’s up to your master. You’ll have to earn it.”

My master? Earn? How?

“You’re a strong woman. Healthy. That’s good because you’re going to need all your strength to get through this. Now, stand up.”

Her muscles didn’t know how to respond, and her brain -- what had happened to her ability to think?

“Stand!”

Her pussy spasmed.

He’d shocked her -- or something close to it.

Teeth clamped down on the wood secured in her mouth, she struggled to obey. Because she couldn’t use her hands, the first time, she lost her balance and fell onto her side. The dildo filled her, moved with her. Until he removed it, it would follow her everywhere. Demonstrating his lack of sympathy, he lightly shocked her again and followed up with short, jerky vibrations.

Mumbling, she managed to do as he commanded. But even so, moderate vibrations continued. Now that she’d had a respite in which to put things into perspective, she couldn’t deny that the protracted climax had been the most incredible experience of her life. If she could market this magical toy, she’d be a wealthy woman -- unless it killed those who used it. Despite her fear of its power, did she want him to remove it? Not that she had any say in the matter.

He laid the remote on the floor. A green light flashed in time with the random vibrations. She struggled to count them, to find a pattern, couldn’t. Neither could she move. He stepped to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, letting her know she could lean against him. She did. His strength now supported her, his arm and side sheltering her. His lips brushed her sweaty forehead.

“What was it, slave? Torture?”

Wanting to be honest for him, she shook her head.

“Something you’ve always wanted?”

Although she’d never imagined a climax could all but shatter her, she nodded.

“Then you’re thanking me?”

Another nod.

He kissed her again and his arm kept her safe. The pussy vibrations continued.

Chapter Eight

Asia lay curled up in the dark with a blanket over her, listening to her heart beat. Zemar had carried her outside and removed the vibrator before ordering her to squat and relieve herself. The contrast between being cradled in his arms and then having to pee while he watched was so confusing. Did he see her as a human being, a woman, or simply a subject to be worked with?

Then he’d returned her to the prison, slid the vibrator back in place, and ordered her onto her knees. Once she’d positioned herself to his liking, he’d freed her hands and placed a plate of strange-looking food on the floor next to her. At his command, she’d eaten the cold, tasteless concoction. When she was done, he’d handcuffed her wrists in front and connected that to her pussy harness. He finished her confinement by chaining one foot to a ring in the floor. Just before leaving, he’d tossed the blanket at her.

The door had slammed behind him.

Despite her discomfort, she’d fallen asleep and had dozed off and on through the rest of the day, making her wonder if he’d drugged her. When she woke up, it was night.

Alone.

But not really, she amended as the vibrator made its presence known. It rested unmoving but large and full of potential inside her, and she wondered if he might be able to trigger it from wherever he’d gone.

He’d return. He had to! Otherwise, she’d starve in here. Starve with a full-to-bursting cunt.

The rubber under her had almost no give to it, and without use of her hands, she couldn’t make a pillow out of them. She supposed she should be grateful because he’d removed her gag, but she was still uncomfortable, so rolled over onto her back so she could rest her head on the flooring. He’d positioned her hands over her belly, the bonds preventing her from reaching her crotch.

Not that she wanted to of course. Not that mentally reliving what he’d subjected her to via the supercharged vibrator was making her horny all over again.

Liar.

How tame her fantasy of being a sex slave had been! How naïve. In contrast, the real thing had just about taken off the top of her head.

Sex slave? Her exploration of the lifestyle had led her to believe that everything was about pleasing the master, but so far Zemar had simply lived with his hard-on. Would that continue or would he eventually fuck her?

Did she want him that close? Did she have any choice?

Her pussy clenched, and she pictured her muscles clamping down around the unshakable invasion that served in his cock’s stead. Even silent, it commanded so much of her attention.

But not all.

Despite what she’d mentally called him, there were differences between Zemar and Tarzan. If there really had been a boy raised by apes, he would have grown up ignorant and uncivilized. He’d smell like a gorilla and fuck like an ape, things she didn’t want to think about. He’d have fleas and unashamedly scratch his armpits and crotch. A stranger to a toothpaste, he might have a mouth full of cavities, if he still had his teeth. His speech, well, he certainly wouldn’t be speaking fluid English, would he? And he wouldn’t have a single, solitary clue about what human females wanted and didn’t want.

Zemar knew.

Staring at the ceiling she couldn’t see, Asia pulled her memories around her. Because she’d been incapable of thinking past sexual stimulation, she didn’t know what Zemar’s expression had been as he manipulated the remote. She hated thinking that he’d been clinical and distant, a pro objectively studying his subject’s reactions and responses and taking mental notes for her files. His erection, damn it, his erection said something, didn’t it? But maybe his response had been nothing more than an unimportant byproduct of a necessary procedure in her training.

What about when he’d let her rest against him, when he’d kissed her head? Carried her.

She had no intention of letting him know, of course, but in many respects after what he’d treated her to today, she could die happy.

Die? Her heart hammered. If he didn’t come back, she would.

Telling herself that her dependence on him was mind-play on his part did little to return her heart rate to a normal pace. They were, after all, playing in his ballpark and by his rules. And if she broke one, even one she didn’t know about, there could be hell to pay.

So she’d have to do whatever it took to please him in order to come out of this sane and alive. But how? What, really, did he want from her? How far was she capable of going to give it to him? And what would be left of her?

* * * * *

She was walking in the middle of a line of naked, silenced, and handcuffed women. Ropes from one neck collar to the next kept them in a single file procession. She couldn’t be sure where they were being led, but it seemed to be a large tent. A hooded man held the tent flap open and as each woman disappeared into the enclosure, she became more and more unnerved.

Finally her turn came. When she was inside, she stopped and tried to look around, but someone yanked on her neck rope, propelling her forward. She was being led to a platform already crowded with her fellow captives.

No, not captives. Each woman wore a sign between her breasts, which identified her as a slave and included a number. Reading upside down, she discovered that she was number thirteen.

“A fine batch this time,” a male voice announced as she trudged up the stairs. “A real herd. There’s a lot of bidding ahead of us, so let’s get started, gentlemen.”

For the first time, she noticed that the platform was ringed by folding metal chairs, all occupied by men. Some wore suits and ties while others looked as if they’d just gotten off construction jobs. Many puffed on fat cigars.

As each slave’s moment in the limelight came, she stood with her head downcast. Despite the slaves’ subservient postures, their nipples were erect and juice ran down their inner thighs. The auctioneer used their arousal to tease their potential masters to increase their bids. Once a slave had been purchased, she immediately passed through some kind of gauzy curtain and disappeared. As if she’d been sucked out of existence.

Then it was her turn. Although she was already standing on the red X in the middle of the platform, the auctioneer prodded her ass with a short, thick stick. “A fine one here, gentlemen. A little over-educated for her new career, but eager to learn. She’s wanted to become a sex slave for many years but kept taking the wrong classes.”

Everyone laughed.

“Fortunately, none other than our own Zemar became both her advisory counselor and instructor. As a result of his dedication, she’s ready to be of service. Zemar has assured me that there’s nothing about the lifestyle we all love and enjoy she isn’t willing to embrace. She can hardly wait to begin her new career, can you, slave?” He punctuated his question by prodding her ass again.

Because she had a gag in her mouth, Asia couldn’t answer. But she knew how to demonstrate her enthusiasm. Head high and shoulders back, she turned in a slow circle as if she was a model showing off the latest Paris fashions. She smiled behind her gag, tossed her hair, batted her eyes, and spread her legs to give her potential new owner a clear view of her sex. At the same time, she did a little bump and grind. Much to everyone’s delight.

”What can I say, owners? A real prize. Let’s begin the bidding at a hundred grand.”

Men kept yelling, but Asia couldn’t understand what they were saying. Her body was a product, merchandise she was committed to marketing. And as a former advertising specialist, she knew how to present to the public. She’d begun thrusting her pelvis at the crowd when someone bellowed, “Ten million dollars.”

Open mouthed, she stared down at her audience. Zemar, naked as she was, stood on his chair. He smiled.

Chapter Nine

“Time for part two of your education. Outside.”

Desperate to demonstrate her compliance, Asia opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t. He’d regagged her. At least he’d allowed her to eat more of the tasteless food and drink a glass of water before putting yesterday’s contraption back in her mouth and securing her arms with the metal restraints. When he’d first come in, he’d positioned a bucket near her and removed the vibrator that now felt as if it was a part of her, so she could go to the bathroom. He hadn’t asked about her night, and of course she hadn’t brought up his. Something about the way he carried himself, less wary and tense, made her think he’d found his own sexual release. Did he have a wife, a significant other? Maybe his own compliant and well-trained slave. No! Don’t think about that.

Because his hair was damp and he smelled like a spring morning, she assumed he’d had a shower, something he was denying her. But although she resented his uncaring, nearly silent treatment this morning, gratitude at knowing he hadn’t abandoned her came before everything else. Well, almost everything. The hours apart had allowed her to regroup at least some of her sense of self. Despite the most body and mind-blowing climax of her life, she’d be damned if she’d ask for a repeat performance.

Another round of him commanding the dildo and she might never find herself again.

“Outside,” he repeated and shoved her forward. She started toward the closed door. As soon as she reached it, it opened as if reading his thoughts, giving her a second look at the caged-in porch.

The porch door opened just as mysteriously. With the vibrator dancing softly but relentlessly, she had to concentrate on keeping her footing as she went down the three steps. And if she relaxed her guard, her over-stimulated system might rocket off into a climax.

The jungle waited just beyond the small opening, promising freedom. A chance to be alone. Birds sang. A trio of pale green butterflies hovered around a lush bush alive with large yellow flowers. She’d never seen such translucent butterflies or vibrant flowers before, and had she ever looked up at such a crystalline sky?

“I want you to think about something.” He joined her. “I blindfolded you when I brought you here for several reasons, one of which is because I wanted its location to remain a mystery. You don’t know what creatures live here, which are predators, which aren’t. Surrender Island has its own society with its own rules, and rulers who control every aspect of a submissive’s life. Most live in the village but not all. Some Doms have their own settlements dotted throughout the jungle. Some of those are surrounded by high fencing to keep the subs in, while others rely on what I’ll call force-fields. The only way a slave knows she’s gotten too close is when she’s sucked in. You don’t want that to happen because each Dom has his own way of running his domain. Any woman who gets too close becomes fair game.”

He pushed a button, and the vibration increased but not so much that she felt overwhelmed. Still, anticipation kept her on edge. “If a slave tries to run away and is caught by another Dom, her master has to pay to get her back. And that makes him angry.”

A stab of sensation in her pussy punctuated the word angry. Desperate to let him know she’d gotten the message, she nodded vigorously. At the same time, she wondered if he had any idea how much she loathed him. Probably.

But did she?

“I want you to get some exercise today. And I want you tired tonight so you’ll sleep of your own accord. You’re going to run until I tell you to stop. You won’t try to escape because it won’t do you any good with your arms useless, and this inside you.” A powerful, brief jolt brought her onto her toes. “Its range allows me to control the impulses from anywhere on the island. Piss me off and I might never turn off this little training tool locked inside you. I know about your jogging routines and what you’re capable of, so start running. Circle the building.”

A vibration a notch above the one he’d just hit her with propelled her forward. She gave fleeting thought to impressing him with her running ability, but although the vibration backed off a little, it didn’t stop, and she couldn’t put her mind to anything else. So much for telling herself yesterday had been a fluke. No way was she immune to the impact and possibilities, the promise.

The object he’d plugged her pussy with didn’t feel quite as large as it had during the night, which reminded her that he could also control its size. Having it smaller made it easier to run, but knowing he could change its contours and movement to fit his monstrous whim unnerved her. She’d run where he wanted her to run, sweat and stretch her muscles. She wouldn’t fight. Didn’t want to.

She dutifully circled the stone structure. If her former bosses could see her, would they take pity on her or laugh at her? It didn’t matter because she might never see them again. Never return to her old world.

Who was doing her job? Was anyone looking for her or had everyone concluded she’d taken off to lick her wounds? Was someone new moving into her condo? What had happened to her clothes and toiletries? At least she hadn’t had time to stock up on fresh sex toys so they weren’t being wasted.

When she reached where she’d left him, she discovered that a lounge chair had mysteriously appeared. He sat in it, legs up, body relaxed. He’d become the center of her universe.

You’ve always wanted this, a force whispered. Perhaps the island itself was speaking to her.

“Faster.” Another behavior-modifying shake of her pussy punctuated the order. She picked up the pace, but the vibrations didn’t decrease. Her legs felt numb, her clit alive.

Always wanted this.Needed.

The heat and tension in her clit increased. The jungle became a tangle of vivid colors. She tasted damp, fragrant air. The sun beat down on her head, shoulders, and jiggling breasts. Her feet slapped on packed earth, creating a drumbeat in her mind.

Wilderness. Wildness.

By the time she’d completed her second circuit, her heartbeat quickened. Thank goodness she was running. Otherwise, she might already be close to coming. She’d climax before the day was over. Unless he refused her, it would happen. But not yet. Not until she’d been submerged in tension, flames, taste, touch.

“Not fast enough,” he said as she passed him. The internal assault became even stronger. The gag made breathing difficult. Her thigh muscles trembled. Her arms ached from being held in this damnable position, and her back felt strained. She couldn’t settle on a stride that felt anything close to familiar. The jungle flashed by, colors bleeding together. And her clit hummed, heated, begged.

Every time she passed Zemar, she was treated to another jolt of energy. She came to expect it and anticipate the heightened awareness. At the same time, although her legs threatened to cramp and her feet burned, she embraced the sensations because they helped remind her that there was more to her than what was between her legs.

She’d been wrapped in a world which didn’t exist beyond her body. Wrapped in sensation. Everything was about her, her journey into slavery and what she was learning about action and reaction. Zemar the lion had tapped into layers of her being she hadn’t known existed, and unnerving as his mastery was, she’d never felt more alive. More in heat.

More desperate for a climax. In this time and place of his choosing and control, she’d do anything. Anything! Grovel before him if that’s what he demanded, shame herself, fuck him, masturbate, run past him the one final time that would send her into the stratosphere.

But he continued to deny and play. Instead, her cunt remained on fire, a ravenous beast clawing at her sanity, kept a half step from leaping into release. He knew her limits and potential -- knew and held her suspended over the ledge. She rounded the prison’s corner and focused on him. Relaxed, his body language said. Removed.In command. Owning everything about you.

No, you bastard! No more dancing to your damnable tune. And no begging! That’s behind me. Damn it, behind me!

This time instead of racing past, she pulled up and faced him as best she could. Dripping sweat and breathing hard, she struggled to hold up her head.

He studied her from his oh so comfortable chair. He held a frosty drink in his free hand and saluted her with it. While she tried to work moisture into her dry throat, her gaze didn’t stray from the control monitor in his other hand.

“Did I give you permission to stop?” He jolted her.

I hate you, she told him with her eyes and refused to move. She was so tense she wondered if she might shatter. Hard vibrations nearly took off the top of her head.

She rocked from side to side. Her pussy clenched against the dildo. Her feet beat a tattoo on the ground. She remained in place.

“I didn’t expect that.” He sounded, what, confused? “Not going to keep on running, are you?”

She shook her head. Her legs felt like hot rubber, but the need to take pride in who and what she was gave her the motivation to dismiss them. Her self-control was so fragile, so vital.

“Last chance, slave. Get going or pay the consequences.”

I already am. How much worse can it get?

He showed her, the lesson pounded out in a fiery internal explosion. How stupid she’d been to believe the instrument of torture and delight locked inside her had reached its capacity. Instead, it suddenly and relentlessly began expanding and contracting. At the same time the pulsations turned into intimate earthquakes that caused her entire pelvic area to shudder. As if that wasn’t enough, he treated her to the extremes of heat and cold. One instant she truly believed he intended to burn her. The next he turned everything into ice.

But she couldn’t, wouldn’t, run! Wouldn’t grovel or beg even though he’d tapped into her every muscle, nerve, tendon, and vein. She needed all her intellect, courage, and determination and more to try to stay on top of the unbelievable sensations. Alive, on fire, scared, anticipating, she sunk deep inside herself. She found nothing but exposed nerves.

Screaming “no!” into her gag, she collapsed. There was nothing graceful or planned about her fall. Her knees took the initial impact, but then she sagged until she’d folded over herself, a captured ball of humanity.

Something shook her and separated her from the terrible tension.

Coming, coming, coming.

She dimly realized he was standing over her but didn’t try to acknowledge him. How could she with one climax after another rolling over her. Her pussy felt as if it had been beaten, satiated, vanquished, and gifted beyond comprehension all at the same time, and still he forced her to weather more assaults. She was flying, falling apart, shattering.

“Who owns you? Who?”

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t even cry out any more. Incapable of moving, she remained a rag doll caught in an angry dog’s mouth. The dog shook her relentlessly, wonderfully. It didn’t matter that no real fangs had penetrated her flesh, that she wasn’t bleeding but instead was experiencing her deepest desires. Helplessness and relentless climaxes at his hand became everything.

Then it ended. How long the vaginal plug had been stilled she couldn’t say. She trusted nothing, not him certainly, but also not her own body. Giving birth couldn’t possibly serve as a greater demonstration of her system’s primitive mechanism. Despite her exhaustion, she remained tense.

“Which of us won that round?”

You, she said with her eyes.

“You’re an amazing woman.”

Woman, not a slave?

As the moments ticked away, she struggled to ready herself for the next assault. Instead, Zemar knelt and removed her gag. He rubbed the sides of her mouth until she could feel it again. She lacked the strength to lick her lips but managed to shoot him a look between gratitude and fury as he held her head and placed the icy glass against her mouth. She drank greedily, noisily. And when she couldn’t drink any more, she sagged against him while he massaged her shoulders, throat, breasts.

He’d done something like this last night when he’d tended to her exhausted body and shown her he was capable of gentleness. And while he’d been doing that, she trusted him. Just as she did now.

“You’ve earned this.”

Keep touching me, please. “Because -- because I came so many times?”

“No.” He shook his head, looking, what, confused? “You’re strong. Filled with pride. You stood up to me.”

“No I didn’t. I collapsed.”

“But you refused to continue running. That took determination and courage.”

Determination.Courage. Taking his time, he released her wrists and pulled the steel off her waist. After massaging where the restraints had been, he took her in his arms and stood, bearing her weight as if she was a newborn. He started walking, his strides slow and fluid, prompting her to wonder what it would feel like to walk beside him, hand in hand, as he showed her the island? Right now he was taking her to the cage he called a porch, but she didn’t care.

He held her.

Chapter Ten

Zemar had deposited her on a lawn chair made of something that felt like satin and was designed so her legs were outstretched, her body supported. Rolling her head toward him, she watched him come back into focus. The masterful man was beautiful, handsome in a wild and powerful way, nothing like any other man she’d had anything to do with. He’d never belong in an office as part of an organization. Did she anymore?

She longed to run her fingers through his tangled hair, to slowly and lovingly wash and comb it while the sun dried it. He might think she was trying to court his favor with her gestures, but it wasn’t that at all. He’d become her everything. Despite the risks, she needed him to know that.

“Interesting,” he muttered. “Not what I expected.”

What?

“Tough.” He patted her cheek. “Not given to panic. No blubbering. Not even a tear.” Frowning, he straightened and studied her naked body. His loincloth did precious little to shelter proof of his arousal. As her sex-induced lethargy faded, she half expected him to force himself on her, but the man had incredible self-restraint, either that or having a hard-on was nothing more than an occupational hazard to him.

Maybe. And maybe there was something beneath the surface in his smoldering gaze that could change their relationship. She tried to tell herself that she was reacting like a prisoner of war who has forgotten who and what she once was and was emotionally aligning herself with her captor.

But maybe it wasn’t that at all. This wasn’t war because on some level she’d long craved what he was handing her. And he was what she’d dreamed of, a soul-deep Dom. Powerful. Knowing. Supremely sure of himself. Yet even those well-defined roles didn’t seem to go far enough. Could there be a deep-seated connection between them, similar weaknesses, needs, and dreams?

If he gave her a sign that he wanted her as a woman and not just a sexual object, how would she respond?

The question continued to resonate as he turned away. Her attention was drawn to his broad, strong back, and she saw it clearly for the first time. Instead of a bodybuilder’s flawless flesh, his tanned back was marred by a large number of stripes that weren’t decorations after all. Scars! Whip scars.

Oh god! Who did that to you? I’m sorry, so very sorry.

Were you a small child when someone brutalized you? Did anyone come to your aid or were you alone, scared? As helpless as I am?

Will you ever tell me?

If he was aware of her scrutiny and thoughts, he gave no sign. Instead, he left her where he’d deposited her while he went inside. The door to the cage had clicked shut after he’d carried her through it, but even if he’d left it open, she wouldn’t have tried to run away. All he’d have to do was energize the vibrator still housed in her vagina and she’d be brought to the ground.

But now more than his possession of her kept her in place. She had to learn the truth behind his scars and know if he’d escaped the nightmarish memories.

Her fingers trembled as she touched the leather harness holding the amazing instrument inside her. It fastened behind her, though she had no doubt that he hadn’t constructed it with hooks or snaps she could operate. Instead, like the dungeon doors, this thing was his to open or keep locked around and in her. The vibrator had deflated to the point where it no longer pressed against her still-burning tissue, but she’d be a fool not to realize how quickly that could change.

If he removed it, she’d be ready to receive his cock. She’d welcome him into her, not because she had to, but because despite the unrelenting climaxes she’d recently experienced, she wanted to feel a living and hot cock buried deep and full inside her. Him.

She’d wrap herself around him, holding on and being held while they fucked. He’d give her vital hints of who he was, and she’d lose herself in the act of sex. Turn chunks of who she was over to him. She’d climax, not because he’d plugged her with a toy no female could resist but because she was a woman and he a complex man, blatant sexuality wrapped in a panther-like body. Howling, she’d call him magnificent. He’d proclaim her his and she’d believe him. Want the word and everything it meant. She’d press her lips against his scarred back and take away ancient pain. And when they were too exhausted for any more sex, he’d tell her how he’d gotten the scars.

He returned, bare feet silent on the rubberized flooring and looking even more like the panther of her imagination. His back no longer bled or caused him pain. He’d become a predator, master of his domain -- and her. He carried a large bowl that was angled so she could see it was full of water. When he set it down near her, she caught a sweet, intoxicating aroma. And when he picked a large, blue sponge and began bathing her with it, she sank into the sensations.

A few minutes ago he’d been torturing her. Now he was treating her as if she was precious, valued, valuable.

Valuable, yes.

“You didn’t beg me to make it stop.” He nodded at her crotch.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I learned. Begging never did me any good.”

Frowning, he regarded her. “You’re my first trainee to say that. The first not to grovel and demean herself.”

I don’t care about them. I can only be me. “How long --” she ventured. “How long will you keep me here?” Can you sense that I’m no longer sure I want to leave?

“Did I give you permission to ask questions?”

Determined not to be silenced again, she shook her head.

“You’re learning, just as I’m learning about you.” He circled her right breast with the sponge. “And because there are advantages in letting my subjects know certain things, I’ll tell you that I don’t make those decisions. It’s better that way because our open-ended association keeps me on my toes and on task. When the powers that be deem you ready for entering your new life, they’ll arrange to have you sold.”

“You never keep a woman, a slave, for yourself?”

The unwise question earned her a nipple pinch.

“All right. All right!” she hissed as the punishment continued. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I understand so little.”

“You don’t need to understand. You only need to experience.” He demonstrated by sending the vibrator into mild movement. Too late she realized he hadn’t set aside the control after all but had placed it on the floor next to him. “Experiencing is how the transformation is accomplished.” He released her nipple and went back to washing sweat and dirt off her. The vibrator continued its soft, almost soothing hum. “Nearly everything I do and you experience is centered on your cunt, your sexuality. By the time I’m done with you, nothing will matter more than what your pussy feels or is denied. You’ll be defined by it. We call it reward and punishment.”

“We?”

“Doesn’t matter, yet. You’re a practitioner of one-night stands. True, you may sleep with a man more than once and don’t consider yourself a cheap lay, but when you perceive that a man is getting too close or you start to have feelings for him that go beyond the physical, you back off. Run and hide.”

“I don’t hide! I’m not afraid --”

Strong fingers around her neck silenced her. She had to learn his rules, fast! “Call it what you wish. But from watching the videos on you, I saw fear of commitment. Believe me, I know the emotion.”

She told herself that he’d learned how to detect fear from his experience with captured women, but something in his tone suggested a personal component. What could possibly make this strong man fearful? Nothing, she answered. He commanded his world and those who entered it.

But he hadn’t always been a man. Once he’d been a child. Helpless and vulnerable. Abused. Alone.

“Videos?” she belatedly thought to ask, then tensed, certain he’d punish her. Instead, he turned his attention to cleaning her hips and legs. Each touch said he had all rights to her body.

Of course he does. He knows me better than I know myself.

He explained that she’d been pre-selected for transportation to the island nearly a year ago based on a number of criteria, but before making the final determination, she’d been monitored extensively. During that time her dating practices, mate choices, sexual preferences, even the way she spent her time alone had been documented.

To her shock, she learned that cameras had been installed in her bedroom. As a result, Zemar had proof that she preferred her collection of sex toys to the real thing. He didn’t yet know why, but if he or another of the island’s Doms decided it was important, they’d find out. She didn’t tell him that it was because she was lonely despite her public protestations to the contrary that she ventured into the dating game. Still, she suspected he knew from her choices, and from his mildly disdainful expressions as he spoke. For although she could have had her choice of wealthy professionals, she’d always chosen men who were her intellectual and career inferiors. She made her selections based on physical attractiveness and the weight of what hung between their legs -- and always left long before the men could bring up the possibility of a future together.

“None of them know about your bondage collection, do they?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It was none of their business.”

“Until now you’ve been content to play with yourself? You haven’t ventured into the scene.”

An image of her half-hearted attempt at self-bondage the night before she’d been taken -- if that was when it was -- made her wince. Of course he’d seen that. “It’s safer that way.”

“Not anymore.”

“No. Not anymore.”

“It’s your curiosity about the lifestyle we embrace here that put you at the top of our acquire list. Many women are followed and their behavior documented, but the majority don’t survive the selection process. If I were you, I’d take it as a compliment.”

The vibrator continued its random, quick movements, forcing her exhausted body back to life. Her breasts and cunt tingled. She kept sucking in her breath. Still, she managed to concentrate on his every word and the nuances behind those crisp, clinical and so-revealing tones. It seemed he was talking more for himself than her, but either way, she needed to understand.

“You fascinate the island’s rulers.” He rolled her away from him so he could bathe her back. The change of position caused the dildo to press more fully against the sides of her pussy. Had it slipped deeper in her? “They’re particularly intrigued by beautiful women who don’t allow a man in their lives. Outwardly independent women who are convinced they don’t need a male make the best slaves.”

How many times was he going to hit her with the word slave? No matter how many defenses she erected, he knew how to get around them. Like now. Earlier he’d punished her. Now she felt cherished, safe, and still stimulated. How do you like being considered a valuable piece of property, Asia?

“Don’t you want to know why women like you make ideal submissives?” He pushed aside the leather harness, spread her ass cheeks and slipped the warm, wet sponge into her crack. She jumped.

“I -- you told me not to ask questions.”

“So I did.” He ran the sponge down from her tailbone, soothing her, touching the tip of the plug. She swore she felt him throughout her vagina. “A great deal of successful research has led the leaders to the conclusion that the journey from arrogance to surrender has a powerful impact on the female psyche, particularly those who tell themselves that their sub-play is just that, harmless entertainment. We suspect the same is true of males, but the focus on Surrender Island is on female subs since our Dom clients are exclusively heterosexual males.”

After patting her ass, he placed the leather strap back in her crack and rolled her onto her back again. The dildo shifted, settled, shook. He bent one of her knees, reached down for a length of rope she hadn’t noticed, and slowly began wrapping it around her ankle. Trembling but mesmerized, she watched her skin disappear under a half dozen loose loops.

“Everything about breaking down a woman intrigues me.”

So matter-of-fact, like it was a foregone conclusion. As if. Break me down? Not going to happen, not!

How are you going to stop him? And do you really want to?

She hadn’t asked those questions; she was sure of it. What then, the island?

After positioning her free leg next to the bound one, he began wrapping the second ankle with a new length. His no-nonsense approach rendered her immobile. She wasn’t afraid so much as she wanted to see what he’d do to her next, what combinations of ecstasy and domination he had in mind.

“But when I’ve stripped the fight from a woman and taught her the rudiments of living to please a man, I’m ready to start over with a new, raw subject. Ready to take a tamed piece of flesh to auction.”

Was that all she was? Flesh for the auction? Somehow she didn’t think so.

Another piece of rope appeared in his strong fingers. Still working in his slow and deliberate manner, he hobbled her so there was no more than two or three inches of give between her ankles.

Trapped.Too late to resist.

His.Again his.

“Do you see how easy it is, Asia?” he asked as he helped her sit up. “You’ve already lost much of your fight.”

“No, I haven’t! But with that thing inside me, I have almost no control over my body. I have -- I have to wait until the timing is right.”

“Almost?” His chuckle carried no hint of warmth. “I’d say you have zero command of the situation, and I have more than one hundred percent. Turn away from me, slave. Put your hands behind you.”

Don’t, don’t, don’t. But because he’d filled her cunt with memories of what had already been done to it, and she’d never met anyone like Zemar the lion or believed one existed, she did as he ordered. She tried not to shudder as he snaked yet more disgusting and confining rope under and over her breasts and then used what was left to anchor her arms above the elbows. If she tried to move her arms, she’d cause the breast ropes to tighten.

His.Helpless.

Not content with this proof of his mastery, he secured her wrists as he had her ankles. He used the breast loops to haul her to her feet, then showed her a roll of black tape. Although she trembled, she stood there while he gagged her with what felt like endless loops of tape that pressed her lips against her teeth and sealed her hair to the back of her neck.

“Now you can concentrate 100% on reaction and connect with yourself. Time to go back inside.”

No! I can’t take any more!

But she could, she discovered as he dragged her back into the room of shadows. With her legs tied the way they were, she was forced to hop. The vibrations distracted her from the full weight of her anger -- if that’s what she truly felt.

“Home, sweet home.” The door closed of its own accord behind them. “At least what now passes as home for you. You have to go to the bathroom again, right?”

She did, but with leather snugged against her, she’d all but wet herself. Perhaps he didn’t care because he hauled her across the room to the small, closed door. That one, too, magically opened, and she saw into the enclosure for the first time. A small, high, barred opening opposite the door let in enough light so she could see they were in a bathroom complete with a luxurious tub and a shower large enough to accommodate two people. The tub and shower included chains hanging from the ceiling and metal rings built into what looked like marble. In contrast, the toilet was utilitarian.

She could have used this yesterday and this morning, but no, he’d forced her to squat on the ground or pee into a bucket.

He ordered her to spread her legs as much as possible and then reached behind her and unfastened the crotch harness and extracted the vibrator.

“Do it,” he said. Deliberately not looking at him, she settled herself on the toilet seat and let go. The smell of urine filled the air, but she didn’t think she’d gotten any on herself.

“Stand up.”

She blushed, and gritted her teeth, but didn’t move as he wiped her, remained frozen in place and docile while he reinserted the high tech device and returned the leather to its home against her labia. So easy to command her. So easy.

Under his direction, she hopped back into the large room. He positioned her so she faced the stone wall she’d stared at when she wasn’t sleeping or unconscious last night. Then he untied her wrists and breasts, spun her back around, grabbed one wrist and pulled it out so he could secure it to the wall via a metal cuff and a short length of chain. He did the same with her other arm, then stepped back. Her arms were outstretched, her breasts obscenely accessible to him.

What was he seeing? His handiwork, of course, his creative placement of her. But she wondered if he was searching for what lay beneath the surface. She might only be his current assignment, yet he’d mentioned an unexpected strength that set her apart from those who’d come before her. It could only be because he’d become her everything, but she needed to believe she mattered to him, that she was more than flesh.

He’d told her what he knew about her pattern of leaving her boyfriends before they could do the same to her, but she couldn’t leave Zemar. Instead, she’d remain with him, his to do with as he pleased. And when he’d finished with her, he’d sell her to someone who’d do the same or worse.

Even as she tested the strength of her chains, resignation settled over her. Real life bondage had become her reality, chains and ropes and the ultimate object of her surrender buried inside her. Zemar the lion was responsible. She was his.

Until he was done with her.

She watched, fascinated, as he crouched and deftly untied her ankles, but the relative ease of movement lasted only until he’d snapped a cuff around one ankle and with a series of slaps to the inside of that leg, commanded her to spread herself. He secured the leg in the same way he’d done to her arms, then stood up. Because he’d all but pulled one leg off the ground, she was forced to rest most of her weight on her free foot.

“Time to get rid of this, for now. He reached behind her for the fastening to her crotch harness. He drew it off her, then reached between her legs so he could take hold of the part of the plug that felt as if it had been created to fit her contours. He pulled it, still vibrating, out. Along with relief, she felt a keen sense of loss. “I’ve got something else to entertain you with, but first I want to be able to hear you.”

As he began unwrapping the tape around her head, she admitted he could have brought her inside without binding and gagging her the way he had. The gestures were designed to demonstrate his mastery over her -- as if she needed further proof. But no way was she going to grovel. He might control her body, but her mind belonged to her. He couldn’t stop her from hating him!

Hate?

Perhaps if she hadn’t seen his scars.

If he hadn’t caressed and bathed her. Held her.

Another trip to the cupboard had him carrying something that put her in mind of a sleek, oversized fishhook minus the barbs. “No questions about my plans for this?” he asked, then aimed the rounded end at her pussy.

An alarmed squeak escaped her. It took all her self-control and then some not to try to back away from it. Despite his earlier thorough washing of her, she was instantly drenched in sweat. The straight section of the smooth hook had an eyehole of sorts, and Zemar took care to ensure she saw him thread a length of rope hanging from an overhead pulley through it. His features devoid of emotion, he came at her crotch again.

This time he didn’t stop with a threat but separated her folds and guided the object into her. She tightened her belly and tried to lean away, but the stone wall at her back stopped her. She followed the hook’s easy journey deep within her. Housed.Settled. It didn’t look as if it was capable of vibrating, but she’d already learned not to trust appearances.

Once he was satisfied with its placement, Zemar left her with the straight end protruding from her and engaged the pulley. Inch by inch, the rope tightened, securing the hook, impaling her on it. To keep the pressure manageable, she stood on tiptoe. To her relief, he released her tethered leg.

“This is the seat of everything you’re going to feel and experience for the rest of your life.” He indicated her cunt. “Although I can and will address other areas of your body, the granting and refusing of climaxes is the basis of your indoctrination. You’ve already experienced a series of climaxes you didn’t know your body was capable of, but I’m not done.”

If not for one thing, she’d call him an unfeeling monster. His loincloth wasn’t capable of hiding his erection. She might have forgotten about him as a human being while climaxes lashed her, but the rest of the time she’d known his nearly constant state of arousal. Yes, he was a master in the art of forcing a woman to submit. Yes, he understood her body’s needs and limits far better than she possibly could. Yes, he could be a cold-hearted bastard.

But he wasn’t immune. If he was at her mercy, she’d taunt and torture and demand that he tell her how it felt to have the tables turned.

Would you? Isn’t the truth that you want this?

Chapter Eleven

He’d retrieved a pair of nipple clamps from the cupboard. When he held the first rubber-tipped contraption up to her, she forced herself not to react, in part because awareness of the steel inside her claimed much of her attention. He rubbed the clamp over a nipple. “A good fit, much better than yours. Designed to grip and stay in place. Note the ring at the other end. You know what that’s for.”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “To hang weights from.”

He cupped the underside of her breast and lifted it, cradled. Despite her vow to emotionally distance herself from him, her eyes opened. Was it only her imagination or was he drawing out supporting her breast’s weight and learning its feel and warmth?

“There you are,” he said. “Didn’t leave after all, did you?” He gave the crotch hook a light tug. “No. You’re not going anywhere.” With a smooth, practiced move, he closed the clamp around her nipple. Instead of immediately releasing her breast, he supported it a little longer while he ran a nail over the underside.

She sucked in air and willed her eyes and mouth not to question his actions. The clamp pinched but wasn’t so painful she couldn’t bear it. In truth, she found the sensation more stimulating than the small pair she’d ordered from the Internet. How strange it was to have manmade devices taking over her body this way. How erotic. She heard herself pant but couldn’t stop.

“Doesn’t take long,” he mused as he attached the second clamp. “You probably thought you were beyond reacting to any more stimulation today, but the body is an amazing thing.” He took hold of the clamps and drew her breasts toward him, watching her reaction. “On there good and tight. Some connect with only the smallest bit of nipple, but these have been designed to wrap around a woman’s contours. Keeps them in place. Your owner might decide just to have you pierced.”

She wouldn’t, couldn’t think about that!

“And not just here”

“Why are you doing this? You get off on terrifying your captives? Scaring them so they can’t think?”

“You’re wrong. I want you thinking.” He picked up something from the bed and returned to where he’d left her all but hung out to dry. “But I control the direction and amount of your thoughts.” He showed her a couple of weights. Although they fit easily in the palm of one hand, she had no doubt she’d feel them throughout her once they were attached to the nipple clamps.

“Damn it, why must you try to dominate everything about me?” She’d keep him talking, not because she hoped to distract him from what he intended to do, but because if she wanted to survive unbroken, she had to understand the world she’d been thrust into. And him. “Are you afraid of my mind?”

His look made her suspect he’d never been asked that. Not bothering to answer, he attached the first weight. Her breast sagged, sensitive tissues pulled down. She felt the drag throughout her upper body. The message was clear. Contained.Controlled. “Your body is waiting for my every move, not sure what I intend to do to it next. And your mind is giving up ownership of your body. Turning it over to me.”

You’re right. Oh god, you’re right.

He fastened the other weight in place so both breasts felt as if gravity had increased. She sensed the change in her groin and knew her juices were soaking the hook. Manmade objects claimed her wrists, breasts, and cunt. How much more of her would he take over before he was done?

Keep going. Please, take me all the way! She wanted to fight, for the sake of her mind, but her body, her nature, wouldn’t let her.

“Sexual stimulation comes in endless forms.” He stepped back and studied his handwork. “I’m only introducing you to a few of them. Each master has his preferred techniques.”

“How -- how many masters are there?”

He shrugged, muscles flexing, chest expanding. “The numbers continue to grow as word of what we have to offer spreads and the ability to identify satisfactory slaves is perfected. In fact, a fast-track system has been implemented, thus the pace I’m putting you through.”

Although his admission alarmed her, in some respects she felt as if they were sharing in this process. She’d agreed to a cram course to avoid overcrowding. As a result, her education might be incomplete, but she’d understand the basic concepts and be ready for the upper division courses.

But what would those later courses consist of? Beyond the possibility of a pierced labia and rings and maybe jewelry permanently skewered to her breasts, what did her future hold?

She didn’t want that! She wanted, what? Surely not more of Zemar.

Please keep going. Take me all the way.

“Pain is a powerful component. Many on both sides of the BDSM lifestyle consider it necessary.”

Don’t I get a say in this? But she said nothing because he’d do what he wanted. She was the next thing to a deeply-hooked fish struggling against an experienced and powerful fisherman’s determination to bring her ashore.

This time he didn’t go to the hell-cupboard but sauntered over to a wall where a collection of whips hung. He lingered over his selection, holding up several and studying her imprisoned body. He was deliberately drawing out the process probably because the technique had proven to be effective in unhinging the intended recipient. It was working. She didn’t know how she could possibly keep him from knowing. If he tested conditions between her legs, he’d find her flooded. Maybe he could smell her.

But she couldn’t help it! Being the chosen and helpless recipient of his expertise had turned her on! His mastery turned her on!

Do it to me. Everything you want to. Whatever it is, I’ll receive, accept, rejoice. And if you’d let me, I’d demonstrate my gratitude on you.

He returned with a long, slender whip sporting a half dozen thin leather strands. He drew the strands over her belly. They felt like silk, almost. She sucked in a breath as her flesh responded to the gentle caress. “Deceptive, isn’t it,” he said. “If we both didn’t know different, we’d think I was going to give you a massage.”

“What will you prove by wounding me?”

“There’ll be no wounds and scarring. That’s something I’ll never do.”

Her mind caught on the cold tension in his last words. Maybe he was making comparisons between what he was about to do to her and what had been done to him. She filled her lungs.

“You know what it’s like to be whipped, don’t you? I saw your back.” She hurried her words. “How can you possibly believe there’s anything stimulating about it? I’d never --”

The stinging slap to her hip landed before her mind registered that his hand had moved. Even as she struggled to turn that side away from him, she understood he was determined to silence her. The second lash landed on the opposite hip.

He worked her methodically, arm moving smoothly back and forth, the whip landing alternatively on her right and then left side. Over and over again he struck her, moving up and down, expertly missing the nipple weights that bounced and dragged during her unthinking attempts to escape. Her breast tissue was being pulled down. Instead of being cradled in her sports bra as they were when she ran, they were held in place as surely as her bound arms. At her nipples, the drawing sensation became a sharp sting. He managed to avoid tangling the leather strands around the hook or the rope holding it in place. Held deeply, securely by the device, she could move only a few precious inches in any direction. Her flesh became fair game. The whip slapped, stung, felt like electric charges.

Again, again, again.

Although it was useless, she kept pulling on the cuffs. It didn’t matter that the whip left only the thinnest of marks and never once broke her flesh. She was being subjected to something she’d considered only during the most erotic of fantasies.

She hated the way her muscles jumped and trembled, hated her rapid-fire breathing, hated the way she marched in place and kept trying to swivel her hips away. If only she could remain still, surely he’d give up. But he made her dance.

Made her want.

“Concentrate,” he said, his arm working, working, working.

“On what!”

Instead of answering, he focused on her thighs, strip after strip rudely kissing her. When she tried to close her legs to protect herself there, it felt as if she was trying to fuck the hook. The possibility intrigued her. She could clamp her inner muscles against the intrusion and distract herself from what he was subjecting her to. She’d show him, get off on hard steel!

Building on the possibilities, she imagined that the hook had become his cock. She’d imprisoned him, pulled him to her, and demanded he service her. Because she held the keys to his chains, he obeyed. They were both experts in the sexual arts, he in doing everything within his power to make the experience memorable for her, she in keeping him going.

She’d direct him to repeatedly bring her to the brink of climax, then insist he back off before again presenting his hungry and unsatisfied cock to her so she could draw out the fuck. In her mind his enjoyment meant nothing. She’d insist he be brought to her so he could service her. If he displeased her, she’d keep him awake and trying all night.

Again, she’d demand. Take me from behind this time. Now flat on your back with me straddling you. No, you’re not done; I’m not done. Hands behind you. Now, suck me. Lick me.

And if he so much as breathed a word of protest, she’d order him strung up so she could beat him.

No! She could never add to his scars!

Unexpected compassion for the prisoner of her fantasy pulled her back into the world he’d created. The whip was now marching down her legs, nearing her calves. She could handle this! Even if he smacked the thin layer of skin over her ankles, at least so far he was sparing her body’s most sensual areas. The fire in her belly burned lower, the coals still hot but not being fed anew. She studied the flesh he’d finished with. The marks were already fading. He’d told her the truth. He had no intention of scarring her as he’d been.

“Getting complacent?” The whip began journeying up again, licking at her thighs. He paused to run a hand over her shoulder blades, and she tried to rest her head on his hand to draw out the disconcerting, almost loving touch.

He withdrew before she could. His eyes darkened. He clenched his jaw. “No. I’m not giving us that. Think of this as foreplay.” Higher and higher the whip marched, closing in on her cunt. “And another lesson in your body’s pliability and mind’s betrayal.”

He was right! No matter how much she struggled or tried to take her mind away from what was happening, she remained a slave to his manipulation. This time she kept her legs spread, head back and breasts displayed. She’d gone from constant movement to immobile, shivering anticipation, waiting, waiting.

Why won’t you be tender? Don’t you know how much I need it?

Her cunt was occupied. But if he heard her silent plea, he’d replace the hook with himself. She hadn’t had a cock in her for too long. This time, please, her pussy would house him and not the powerful substitutes he’d subjected her to. She’d feel his flesh on and in hers, their mouths fusing, strong, warm arms holding her, whispered encouragement, sensing his tension in his hard, quick thrusts, climaxing together instead of yet another lonely explosion.

When he stopped striking her, she stared at him in confusion and frustration. Although she hated her weakness, she did what little she could to thrust her pelvis at him, but the hook’s rope stopped her.

Don’t leave me like this! Please, help me!

He reached for her pussy, causing her to jerk back in an insane effort to keep certain realities from him, but of course he easily ran his fingers over her weeping flesh. “Turned on. No control over your reaction.”

“No!”

“Don’t lie to me. I know your body better than you do.”

Although she couldn’t deny the truth of the juices he was removing from her cunt and spreading over her breasts, he didn’t know her mind, her thoughts. No matter how completely he transformed her body into what he intended it to become, she wouldn’t let him dominate her emotions. Hadn’t she learned how to protect her heart from the two men who’d nearly stripped everything from her?

Make me a sub. Give me that dream. Just leave my heart alone. It isn’t yours. It’ll never be.

She didn’t ask what he had in mind when he released the tension on the hook and removed it. She certainly didn’t thank him. Although she would have given almost anything to feel him inside her, she refused to beg. Frowning, he studied her for several moments. “What do you want, slave? Say it! You need to be fucked.”

“Leave me alone.” Please.

“Not yet.” He slid the whip handle over her slick cunt. She jerked and shuddered. Her whimpers remained buried and safe deep in her throat.

“Think you can win this round, do you?” He sounded, what, uncertain? “Not going to happen, Asia, not going to happen.”

He’d been calling her slave. Should she read something into his use of her name? She was still contemplating the possibilities when he returned from the cupboard with a spreader bar. He easily cuffed one ankle, forced her to spread her legs, and then cuffed the other ankle. The attached bar kept her legs wide apart. Her pussy waited for his manipulations.

His. No longer hers.

Another trip had him carrying a large vibrator with a tip contoured so it settled over and cupped the clitoris. Like the previous one, this toy lacked an electrical cord. “Damn you.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this.” Although she struggled to distance herself from him, he easily pressed it against her. “Don’t lie to me, Asia. You’re thoroughly warmed up and primed for a climax. In fact --” He started the tool moving. “If you were free, you’d stay right here. Beg if need be.”

“I don’t beg.”

Rearing back, he studied her. “I wondered when you’d admit that. Why not?”

“I don’t. I don’t!”

“What is it, pride?”

“Go to hell.”

“Already been there.”

Movement kicked up a notch. Her clit responded, and her concentration tunneled down. The skin he’d so expertly sensitized felt unbelievably alive, and the pain and unnatural weighted sensation in her breasts became something else -- wonderful. Her head tossed from side to side. Another notch and she pressed against the vibrator. A sharp stab to her right breast brought her attention there. He showed her the clamp he’d just removed. He left the other in place while he massaged circulation back into the newly released nipple.

She hated being at his mercy, and at her body’s demands, so she fought both by wrenching her mind off what was taking place. Even as her pussy wept and her ragged breaths echoed off the stone walls, she remembered the two times in her life she’d groveled before men. The first time, she’d been so young, innocent, loving without reservation. His abandonment had nearly destroyed her. Night after night she’d cried herself to sleep, and her grades had suffered. She’d stopped hanging out with her friends and hadn’t wanted to do anything with them. She’d avoided looking at herself in the mirror because she’d seen an unworthy, unloved, unlovable child.

And yet, with time, maturity, and her mother’s support, she’d slowly rebuilt her shattered sense of self-worth and as a young woman she’d given her heart to another man. This time she’d given her body as well. The manner and memories of that other abandonment had been different. Only the shameful way she’d reacted had been the same. Once again her heart had been torn apart, her life shattered, ego destroyed. At least she’d refused to give into nighttime tears, and she could study her reflection long enough to put on her makeup and ask herself how she could have been so naïve and why her lover had betrayed her the way he had.

Today’s reality slammed back at her. Zemar was removing the second nipple clamp. The rush of blood there burned and ignited, and she silently thanked him while he massaged her throbbing nub. He kept the vibrator against her and increased the movement speed a little as he ministered to her reddened nipple.

He released her breast. “Pay attention. Concentrate.”

Vibrations suddenly rocketed throughout her body. The most intense sensation centered around her helpless and hungry clit, but no inch of flesh remained untouched. Everything burned. She felt as if she was being shaken. Because of the wrist restraints and spreader bar, she could barely move. Couldn’t make him stop.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t! No, don’t! Damn it.” She struggled to turn away.

“Feel it, Asia. Experience. Accept. Embrace.”

Helpless. Used. “No!”

“Fighting won’t do any good. It’ll only delay the inevitable, maybe.” He pressed, expertly anticipating her jerks and shudders. She tried to back up. The unwieldy bar and strain in her arms stopped her. The vibrator started pulsing. There was no rhythm, only strength and dominance.

“Can’t, can’t -- Stop! Damn you, stop!”

He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. “You want this. Need it.”

“No!”

“Stop lying to yourself.”

He released her chin but only to flatten his splayed fingers over her buttocks and shove her toward him. He trapped her against the vibrator.

Pressure. So much pressure. Flaming heat.

“I’m coming, coming!”

“I know it. I feel you.”

“Coming.” Her clit was on fire. The vibrator clutched her tissues, held her, shook.

No escape. No ending. “Can’t! Can’t take any more.”

“Yes, you can.”

Throwing back her head, she wailed. Explosion after explosion hit her. “Enough. No more!”

“This is what you’ve dreamed of for years.”

True, but wave upon wave was too much! She was so incredibly sensitive, nerves overloaded, cunt exhausted but not being allowed rest. “Please, please, please. No more.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Yes!”

“What will you do for me?”

“Anything. Anything.”

“Wear my brand?”

“Yes!”

“Suck me?”

“Yes.” She jerked, then stopped when it felt as if she might dislocate her arms. “Please, please.”

Her world had been red-hot flames. Now, suddenly, she could see other colors, gray walls, his dark features and obsidian eyes. She sobbed more than breathed. Drank in as much air as her lungs could hold.

“Coming down?” he asked.

She was because he’d silenced the vibrator, thus handing her pussy relief. “Thank you.”

“Gratitude, Asia? Because I was hurting you a moment ago or because you’ve never gone this far before?”

Air brushed against her drenched labia. Looking down, she watched him remove the vibrator although he held it only a few inches from her cunt. She tried to back-step only to be stopped by her restraints.

“You’re not going anywhere so we might as well talk. Reality is damn different from fantasy, isn’t it?”

“You think -- you think I wanted to be manhandled like that?”

Grabbing her jaw again, he stared into her eyes. “I know you did.”

“Damn you to hell.”

“I told you, I’ve already been there. I’m not going back.”

You’re talking about your scars, aren’t you?

“Are you listening, Asia? I want you to admit I just made your fantasy come true.”

“How can you say that? You don’t --”

“Don’t lie and don’t play games with either of us. I know your nature maybe better than you do. I’m tapping you into the real you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She’d watched bondage videos, listening intently to the women’s loud and urgent climaxes while men teased them with all manner of sexual devices. Pressing a battery-run bullet against her clit or trying to find a comfortable position with a rabbit vibrator claiming her both inside and out, she’d worked to imagine she was the one who’d been chained to a wall, the floor, on a bed, in a cage. Many times she’d been able to masturbate herself to climax, but she’d never sounded the way those bondage-loving women did, the way she just had. When she used cuffs or ropes, she was careful to secure them so she could free herself. And when her fantasy was over, she rewound the video, cleaned and put away her toys, took a shower, put on a nightgown, and turned down the furnace.

Zemar had changed everything.

“What do you want from me?”

“For you to be honest with yourself.”

She broke eye contact. “I can’t.”

“Not yet maybe, but it’s going to happen. There’s a lesson in this. One I believe you’ll never forget.”

He sounded, what, reluctant? No, surely not.

“You’re a fighter. I’ve never had a woman who battles both me and her innate nature the way you do.” His mouth tightened. “The Doms will love that. There’s nothing they like more than playing with a slave’s defiance.” The vibrator dropped to the floor. “But never forget that fighting will either destroy you or get you killed.”

“I can’t live like this.” She indicated her helpless body.

“You don’t like it?” He rested his hand over her spent but still dripping pussy.

Your touch, you, not just some impersonal instrument!

“Answer me, Asia.” A finger easily slipped into her. “You don’t want a man inside you?”

“A cock, yes. Not -- not the other.”

“Then this --” He indicated the discarded vibrator. “Did nothing for you?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” Arguing with him was bringing her back to life, that and the finger housed in her cunt. If she could, she’d hold him there forever. “Being manipulated, forced --”

“Is a way of life here. And you’ve always wanted it”

“No.” Why are you lying to him? He’s seen you when you thought you were alone.

“Yes.” He punctuated his remark by applying more pressure to a cunt she swore couldn’t take any more stimulation. She should be dead down there, but she wasn’t. “Asia, the slavery which exists here goes far beyond physical bonds. For the women who pass the selection process, it’s because submissiveness is hardwired into their nature. You need to receive as much as the masters need to give. And the sooner you accept what you are, the better it’ll be for you.”

What did he care about her reactions once he was done with her? “I don’t belong here.” Her pussy pulsed to life around his finger. Unsure how long she could ignore it, she rushed to speak. “Surely there are endless potential slaves you -- you people can choose. Women who trust men and are eager to give up ownership of their bodies.”

“You’re one of them.” Another finger joined the one she already housed, stretching her burnt and bruised tissues.

“No, I’m not!”

His thumb stroked her clit. The wounded nub all but shuddered. “You’re a slave to sex. You’ve been one since the first time you, probably as an adolescent, fantasized about giving up responsibility and control. Many women who want this find partners they trust who are eager to fulfill their dreams, but for reasons I don’t yet know, you’re afraid to share your nature with a living, breathing man.”

“Everyone dreams about sex. They shouldn’t -- shouldn’t be punished for that.”

“You call this punishment?” He flicked her clit.

“Yes!”

“Liar.” He abraded her clit with a roughened finger pad.

She jumped and shuddered under his watchful eyes but didn’t lose herself in the contrast between her skin and his. His touch, the human-to-human contact reached her heart. He became more than her master, more than a Dom. He’d left the life he’d known because it had failed him. His scars spoke of nightmares. No matter how long ago they’d been inflicted, he hadn’t forgotten the details. “You’ve accused me of lying, but I’m not the only one trying to keep things locked inside. Tell me the truth this time. What are you afraid of?”

His eyes narrowed. “Nothing.”

“Yes, you are. Despite all the things you’ve done to me, this is the first time you’ve touched me as a man touches a woman and let me know you care what goes on inside my mind. I know you want to fuck me. But you haven’t. Is it because giving me your cock would make you vulnerable?”

Sucking in a harsh breath, he thrust yet another finger inside her and began stroking her. Her hips rolled from side to side. No matter how much she struggled to stop moving, she couldn’t. “Who’s vulnerable, Asia?” he demanded, but she sensed uncertainty behind the question. “It sure as hell isn’t me.”

“Isn’t it?” Words became valuable and rare commodities. She had to choose them carefully and focus on them, not on the manipulation she craved. “I -- I’ve seen your cock. It isn’t immune. You aren’t immune.”

She waited for his denial. When it didn’t come, she knew she’d won this round. He still controlled and defined the battle, and she’d be a fool if she didn’t acknowledge that the ultimate outcome would go to him, but this moment at least belonged to her.

“Why don’t -- why don’t you fuck me?” Don’t pump your fingers in me like that! “I can’t stop -- can’t stop you from raping me. We both know that.”

“I don’t rape.”

“What do you call what you’ve been doing? Against my will. Forcing me. Isn’t that what rape is about? Isn’t it?”

“The island has been sending you its message. Don’t tell either of us it hasn’t. It embraced you because you’re ready to embrace the lifestyle.”

“Just because you need it doesn’t mean I do.”

His fingers stilled but remained in her. “I should have kept you gagged.”

“It’s too late, Zemar.” You are vulnerable. And human. “Even if you silence me, it’s too late to take back what you’ve shown me about yourself. Your vulnerability.”

“Damn it, you’re wrong.”

“Then court me, seduce me. Bring us together as a man and a woman, not Dom and captive.”

Chapter Twelve

He didn’t of course. Instead, he released her from this latest bondage, but not before placing a collar and length of chain around her neck. After freeing her ankles and wrists, he pushed her over to the miserable excuse for a bed and commanded her to sit on it. Then he fastened the chain to the ceiling, leaving her enough room to lie down or walk around the bed if she so chose. Throughout, he didn’t speak.

She too remained silent both because she hoped he was thinking about what she’d said, and because she was afraid she’d ask him what he planned to do to her next.

He spent most of the rest of the day outside. Because she occasionally glimpsed him through the bars and heard him working, she knew he was engaged in clearing some of the brush around the building. Not that she’d tell him of course, but she loved the way sweat brought his muscles into relief and made his skin glisten. He didn’t seem to need to rest, and she imagined him losing himself in the pleasure of a physical task well done. Perhaps he was deliberately wearing himself out.

She imagined that this was their home. While she worked inside on some domestic task, he did the same under the sun. Even as she went about her chores, she looked forward to evening when her man took her, his woman, in his arms.

Of course, that was insane.

As evening slipped through the bars, he came in to give her some water and let her go to the bathroom again, then walked away without a word. Because there weren’t any lights in the room, night soon took over. Wrapped in inky blackness, she hugged herself. She hated the dried sweat on her skin, and the ache between her legs was impossible to ignore.

When would he be back? Did he intend to leave her like this all night, belly so empty it was cramping? She was utterly spent, but if she fell asleep, she risked choking herself on the chain.

Surely he wouldn’t let that happen to a valuable piece of property.

He undoubtedly had more sexual plans up his sleeve -- not that he had a sleeve. The cupboard housed a seemingly endless collection, and as he’d vividly demonstrated, the tools were more powerful than anything she’d ever used or imagined. What if he inserted another vibrator and left it on indefinitely? What if he bound her in such a way that she couldn’t twitch, pressed some object over and around her clit, brought that object to life, and walked away?

He won’t do that.

She told herself she was crazy if she believed he had a shred of humanity, but the thought didn’t die. Some of her conviction came from his occasional use of her given name, but she drew deeper meaning from his act of inserting his fingers in her instead of the toys he’d relied on earlier. True, she was collared, but otherwise he’d left her relatively comfortable. And he hadn’t stopped her from talking.

But then he’d left her alone in the dark.

Head throbbing, she massaged her temples. The bondage stories she loved reading were always about sexually insatiable heroines. Even when their Doms or masters or captors or whatever names they went by were done with them, they craved even more stimulation and resorted to masturbation, but now all her cunt wanted was to be left alone.

Done and done.

Or maybe only he could bring her to life. And not just his fingers and surely not some damn device.

She wanted him, equals fucking.

Unfortunately they weren’t equals. He’d been supplied with a great deal of information about her while she knew nothing of him -- except that someone had once brutally beaten him.

* * * * *

Surrounded by the bars of her cage, she knelt and stared out. He’s coming, she’d been told. Your new master.

Fire licked at her body as she contemplated her future. The auction had gone by so fast that she couldn’t remember the details. She recalled being led off the platform and back outside the tent. Her handler, a thin, faceless man, had hauled her what seemed like a long way. Finally he’d pushed her into what looked like a barn. But instead of stalls for animals, she’d seen two rows of cages maybe four feet high. Her handler had removed her cuffs, but a moment later she’d found herself refastened in such a way that chains connected her neck, wrists, and ankles. Showing no emotion, her handler had opened a cage and shoved her inside. The door had clanged shut behind her.

Once she was on her hands and knees, she’d looked at what she could see of the other cages. Each held a woman. One was knitting while another was occupied rearranging her straw floor. All were chained in one way or another. Those who could had their hands between their legs and were loudly masturbating. The others watched them, encouraging.

Her own cunt throbbed. She tried to satisfy herself but the chains kept her hands near her waist. She twisted and tried to press her thighs together, but all she got for her efforts was a wetter, hungrier pussy.

He’s coming. Your new master.

Finally she heard approaching footsteps. Pressing her face against the bars, she stared at the long, naked legs approaching her cage. Heat licked her pussy, and she clamped her thighs together. Her throat felt dry. She wished she could comb her hair and wondered if she had on makeup. Did he like her pussy shaved? What about a tattoo there? Would he prepare her so her ass accommodated him? Maybe he’d want her to wear larger and larger butt plugs until she’d been adequately stretched.

Her cage opened. “Get out here,” a man ordered. “Show your gratitude.”

Working awkwardly, she managed to crawl through the door. Her restraints gave her enough freedom of movement to stand, but she knew better. Eyes downcast, she slunk closer until she crouched at the man’s feet.

”Gratitude, slave.”

Delighted to be given permission, she leaned down and began kissing the man’s foot. Over and over she pressed her lips against his flesh. And when he gave permission, she bathed him with her tongue. As she did, the pressure in her cunt increased until she couldn’t remain still.

“Master, please,” she whispered. “May I have permission to come?”

”Not yet, slave. First, my other foot.”

She scurried over to it, but before kissing her master’s foot, she turned her head to the side so she could brush her loose hair over his instep. He rewarded her by patting the back of her neck.

“That’s a good slave. Are you happy?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you want your chains removed?”

“No, Master.”

“Do you want to be beaten?”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

He didn’t say anything, prompting her to look up for the first time. Zemar’s dark eyes stared down at her.

“Please, Master, whatever you want.”

“I’m trying to decide what will bring us the greatest pleasure. There’s a new whipping post outside. I could string you up to it, invite others to watch, lash you until you come.”

“Oh yes, please Master.”

Asia had no idea how long she’d been in the dark when she heard the door open. Sitting up, she struggled to shake off the vivid dream and waited for Zemar to turn on the light, but whoever had come in preferred dark. She smelled onions and garlic and the wonderful tang of something barbecued. Her mouth watered.

“How nice of you to join me,” she teased to break the silence. “I’ve just been sitting here wondering what was on the dinner menu. I like my steak medium rare.”

“I know.”

Zemar. Of course he did. He probably knew what brand of tampon she used. After a moment she heard what sounded like a tray being set down. Then he snapped his fingers and a thin beading of light between the walls and ceiling came to life. The light wasn’t strong enough to read by, and the lingering shadows made her a little uneasy, but it was better than the darkness of night and her thoughts.

He hadn’t changed. Hadn’t touched his uncivilized hair. His feet made no sound as he closed the distance between them and unhooked the chain attached to her collar. Strong fingers around her elbow brought her to her feet, and she followed him into the bathroom. This time he let her wash her hands and face. She longed for a shower but knew better than to ask.

When she was back on the bed, he placed the tray beside her. He didn’t have to tell her to eat. The steak tasted incredible, and she nearly asked if he’d cooked it and the perfectly sautéed onions and garlic resting on the steak. There was also a small red potato and a salad with bleu cheese dressing. Not until she’d wolfed down half of it and drunk most of the lemon flavored iced tea did it register that this was one of her favorite dinners. He stood too close and studied her every bite. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“At wherever it is you live?”

“Yes.”

“Did you cook --”

“I order what I want.”

Who obeys your orders? Who is eager to fulfill your wishes, a woman? More than one?

“You walked there and back in the dark?”

“Unless they’re commanded to, the predators leave humans alone.”

But an escaped captive or slave would be fair game. Was there no way off the island, no way for a captive to escape her fate?

“They want you tomorrow,” he said when she’d swallowed the last bite of steak.

Her heart thumped. “Oh.”

“They studied today’s videos and want you as you are, raw and wild, not broken.”

Suddenly she felt sick. “What -- what did you say?”

“I understand their interest -- and concerns.”

Concerns?About what? She couldn’t imagine him giving way before anyone but didn’t say so. Instead she asked about the video, and he pointed at random places in the wall. Although she didn’t see anything, she understood. “What about when you had me outside? There were cameras out there too, weren’t there?”

He nodded.

“You -- you don’t care.” She hated, but couldn’t do anything, about the emotion clogging her throat. “It doesn’t matter that I’m going to be taken before you’ve -- before you’ve finished working on me?”

His already night-dark eyes became even more so. “I do my job. Others do theirs.”

She supposed she should be grateful because he’d no longer be around with his masterful and knowing ways, but the unknown terrified her.

Only, it wasn’t his chains and vibrators she feared. It was the end to what little she’d learned about this remarkable and complex man -- and her response to him. She even wanted him to know why she’d never taken her interest in submission beyond solo playacting.

Risking everything, she got to her feet and walked over to where he was leaning against a wall. Except for the collar, she was naked. And except for his loincloth, he was the same. Shaking, she slipped her arms around his waist so her fingertips rested on several of his scars. He tensed. Every inch of his body felt hard and strong and yet she sensed his quickened breathing. “How did this happen?” she asked. Please tell me before I’m taken away. “Who did this to you?”

She hadn’t expected him to answer, but the rough way he pulled her off him shocked her. He held her as if he expected her to attack him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. Zemar, no one has ever done anything that horrible to me, but even before I wound up here, I knew what having no control over my life felt like, and I’m not talking about being fired. The same happened to you when you were beaten. Damn it, I know it!” And I care.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Not all I want to, but I’ve started. Zemar, it matters. You matter. Don’t you understand?”

He gripped her upper arms so she could neither touch him nor get away. “Don’t go there.” It sounded more like a request, maybe even a plea, than an order.

“Why not? Damn it, Zemar, you know all about me. The files or whatever they are. Surely they included everything.”

“Not everything, obviously.”

“What do you mean?”

“Until now one thing has been universal about the slaves I work with. They’ve begged.” He abruptly wrenched her arms behind her and held her against his rock solid body. Her breasts pressed against him and absorbed his heat and rapid heartbeat. “But even when you want to, even when your sanity depends on it, you don’t. Why not?”

She stared up at him. Trying to discover what they had in common was one thing. Opening old wounds before this man who’d already commanded so much of her was quite another. “I should bleed in front of you while you tell me nothing about yourself, the scars?”

His mouth hardened, and his spine stiffened. Although he didn’t reach behind himself, she sensed his desire to connect with the marks, maybe attempt to rub them away. “You’re the subject, not me. And you wouldn’t want me to force the truth out of you.”

Looking deep into his eyes, she saw a hint of decency. Between that and his forceful hold, she weakened. “You don’t have to because I’ve decided not to try to hide from the truth. One of us has to be honest.”

His mouth twitched. She read, not anger but respect. “It happened a long time ago,” she said. “I was a child. At least I was the first time.”

“A child.”

His soft tone told her that his personal nightmare had its roots in the same place. “Some things should remain relegated to the past, right?” she asked. “It’s behind us.”

Until this, he’d gripped her painfully tight, but now he released her. Before she could decide what, if anything, to do or say, he glanced at her wrists, prompting her to do the same. He’d left the imprints of his fingers on her flesh. Eyes shuttered, he took her hands and began to gently massaging away the marks. “Tell me how it began for you.” He reached out as if to touch her cheek, then stopped. “Please.”

Wondering if her survival might hinge on her response, she shook her head trying to clear it. It would have been easier if not for the heat between them and the dream remnants, with their meaning she could no longer deny. Make-believe about powerful and experienced but faceless dominant men had given way to the real thing, Zemar. “I swore I’d never cry or plead again, never degrade myself by begging a man to love or even care about me. I’d learned it wouldn’t do any good. I felt shamed, abandoned, exposed.”

“Like you are now?”

“This is nothing.” She indicated her naked body. “You’ve put my skin and sexuality on display. I refuse to let the same thing happen to my heart.”

Certain he’d find a way to throw the words back at her and were now a lie because of the impact he’d left on her heart, she waited. Instead, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck before she realized what she’d done, but it was too late to take back the gesture of trust and surrender.

He deposited her on the bed and settled beside her. His arm around her shoulder sheltered her, and despite the blood singing in her ears, she leaned against him. She’d never known anyone this strong, had never wanted such a powerful flesh and blood lover. Health and vitality rippled through him, and she drank from it, from him. Take from me. Please, if I have something you want or need, I give it freely. No matter what happens, let this connection last for the rest of our lives.

“You trusted and loved someone, but he betrayed that trust.” He brushed her hair off her cheek. “That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

Don’t hold back. Strip your soul as he stripped your body. “I was eight. I didn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘lies.’ Or ‘abandonment.’ I’ve never forgotten his lesson.”

“His? Your father?”

Take the next step. Hand him complete honesty. “Yes.”

“What about your mother?”

“She was there, thank goodness. I slept with her for awhile afterward, holding onto her and doing the same for her. Our closeness helped me understand that other people had emotions and needs. I, ah, I had her until her death when I was eighteen.”

“At least you had her.”

You didn’t, did you?

“Eight.” His gaze said he was trying to see her at that age. “I never know about a captive’s childhood.”

“Maybe -- maybe you should tell whoever tracks potential sex subjects to include the early years and not just let the island make the decisions.” His arm was still around her, his strength and energy keeping her going. She couldn’t distinguish the line between the terrible need to let him see into her soul and physical craving. Maybe there wasn’t one and everything had blurred together. “My childhood molded me, just as it impacts everyone, you included.”

He laid her down, her back resting on the mattress with her breasts, belly, pelvis within easy reach. She couldn’t and didn’t want to move. And when he stretched out beside her and propped himself up on an elbow, she didn’t hide from his searching gaze.

“Your father walked out of your life?” He again brushed back her hair.

“I tell people that he divorced my mother and me. I -- I begged him not to leave, but he pushed me away and slammed the door. It -- that was the day he told my mother he’d found someone else. I -- maybe I thought he would take me with him. He used to call me his princess. Every day when he came home from work, I’d run outside so he could hug me and carry me inside. I remember telling everyone that I was going to marry him.”

“You never heard from him again?”

In a controlled voice she told him about her father coming back a week after the separation so he could take her to see where he was living. She’d sat in the back seat because a tall woman with short hair was seated next to him, and although he’d reached around to briefly squeeze her hand, she hadn’t liked his new cologne or haircut. When her father told her that Carol was going to have his baby and he expected her to call her Mom, she’d refused. Although Carol had said to give her time to get used to things, her father had called her a stubborn brat. When he dropped her off back home after showing her Carol’s immaculate second floor apartment with his clothes now in the closet, she’d clung to him and begged him to live with her and Mommy again. He’d shaken her off, picked her up, and deposited her on the doorstep. Heartbroken, she’d dropped to her knees and clung to his legs until he kicked her away.

He’d returned a few days later for the rest of his belongings, and she’d again wrapped her arms around him, groveling. Because of her tears, she couldn’t see his expression, but the way he’d peeled her off him and stomped away left no doubt that the man she loved most in life had no use for her. He was going to divorce Mommy and marry Carol instead of waiting for her to grow up. And he was going to have a new child so he didn’t need her at all.

“I called him every day for the first month or so.” You’re really telling him this, aren’t you? The first person since Mom. “I kept asking when I’d see him again. He’d say he wasn’t sure and then hang up. He did drop by with a birthday present a few weeks after I stopped calling -- and to tell me that he and Carol were moving across the country. I didn’t see him again until I was eleven. They had a daughter.”

“Bastard.”

Talking had exhausted her, either that or everything she’d been through since she’d been spirited away from her world had finally caught up to her. Whichever it was, she clenched her chattering teeth and stared at the ceiling.

“And the second time?”

“The second time what?”

“That your heart was broken, and you realized begging wouldn’t change anything.”

Oh god, she had said that too, hadn’t she? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Smiling faintly, he cocked his head. “I could make you.”

“Fine. String me up by my thumbs. That’ll do the job.”

She felt him jerk. “Don’t even say that.”

What’s going on inside you? I touched a button, didn’t I? “Can you blame me? I have a pretty good idea what you’re capable of.”

“Torture isn’t what Surrender Island is about. If it was, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Why are you?”

Abruptly, he sat up and turned away from her. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She hadn’t really expected him to answer. Not giving herself time to question the wisdom of her action, she ran her fingers over his marred back. He stiffened, then she sensed an internal battle as he relaxed. Her sensitized fingers traced countless scars. Despite the disfigured flesh, she continued her exploration. The hard ridges were as much a part of him as his sculpted muscles. Wondering at the hell he’d been forced to endure, she let tears fall for the first time in years.

“When my father walked out of my life, I felt as if my heart had been ripped apart.” I give you honesty so, maybe, you’ll do the same. “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had my mother. Although she too was hurting, she put my needs first. She held me when I cried, and when I asked her why my daddy stopped loving me, she said it had nothing to do with my worthiness as a human being and everything to do with his own selfishness and failings. Eventually I believed her.”

She’d been careful to apply enough pressure to his back that she didn’t tickle him, so couldn’t blame her touch when he stood and walked over to the front door. “Please come back,” she whispered.

He did, his magnificent body closing the distance between them. Her own hummed. She’d never felt so restless or on edge. “What are you afraid of?” she asked again.

“Afraid?”

“You’re right. That isn’t the right word.” Holding out her hands, she waited until he placed his large, strong ones in them. The contact seemed like a miracle. “Leery. Wary. You’ve kept a huge part of yourself locked away.” Although she wanted him back on the bed beside her, she stood so she could press her breasts and belly against him. His cock felt like a barrier between them until she shifted so she sheltered it with her body. Still only half believing what she was doing, she clung to him.

“You’ve seen every part of me.” So much was changing. Could she go from being his prisoner to, maybe, his equal? “Touched everything.” She pushed her pelvis at him and moved from side to side, applying friction to his hidden cock. “Why won’t you let me do the same to you?”

“You know.” He’d been standing there, his arms at his side, rigid as if he didn’t trust her. Now he pressed his hands over her buttocks and applied enough pressure that she couldn’t back away. It didn’t matter because she had no intention of letting this moment get away. He was responding!

“No, I don’t. And don’t tell me it’s because it’s part of some damn technique you’ve perfected as a Dom. When’s the last time you let a woman past your barriers? Do you ever share your dreams, your thoughts, with anyone?”

The shudder that passed through him said more than a million words could, and she again wept for what he’d been forced to become. Something terrible had been done to him back when he’d had a child’s trust. As a result, he’d closed himself off and isolated himself. She understood. “Do you have dreams?” she ventured.

“Yes.”

Yes. But I don’t know how to share them. “So do I.” She pressed her lips to his chest. “I’ve had a couple recently that have been incredibly revealing. But right now the only one that matters is wanting to fuck you.”

Taking hold of her arms, he pushed her away so he could stare down into her eyes. “You want --”

“To fuck. Have sex. Make love. Please.”

Chapter Thirteen

Don’t mess it up. Whatever you do, don’t do anything to make him bolt. The thought that she could cause this domineering man to flee should have been laughable, but as she ran her hands through his tangled and overgrown hair, she sensed his fragility. His body was powerful, magnificently honed for a physical life, but beneath the surface beat a vulnerable heart.

Trusting her instinct, she drew him near the bed. With trembling fingers, she reached for the cord holding his loincloth in place but didn’t try to remove it. Whatever sturdy material the cloth was made from provided maximum protection, moving when he did, always keeping his cock covered. The way it bulged when he was aroused, which seemed to be most of the time, left her with no doubt of his size. Yes, she’d gotten a glimpse of the real thing, but she’d never been given the opportunity to study what taut skin and swollen veins said about him as a male.

He’d deliberately kept himself covered while insisting she remain nude as a powerful message about the difference between them. If she exposed him, it would change a great deal about their relationship. But that move, if it ever came, would have to be initiated by him.

“Everyone has flaws.” She sat with him standing close enough for their legs to touch. “The physical ones are obvious. It’s the emotional that cause the most trouble.”

“And are the hardest to identify.”

If she wanted him to reveal more, she’d have to move cautiously. Still, she could rest her head against his hard belly, couldn’t she? “I can’t imagine what it would be like to be perfect.” She chuckled. “To have become an adult without tears or heartache -- someone like that couldn’t possibly be mature. If we don’t make mistakes or learn from our mistakes ... My mother used to say she wanted to get old enough that she’d have made her allotment of mistakes for one lifetime. But she died too young.”

“What about your father?”

Let’s talk about you, not me. “I assume he’s alive. I don’t care enough to find out.”

He rested his hands on the top of her head. When she felt hot tears behind her closed lids, she couldn’t say whether they were for her or him. “I could if you want me to.”

He’d do that? But he was taking her somewhere to be sold tomorrow. Suddenly sick at the thought, she forced her emotions to go no further than this moment. “I don’t.” You’re what’s important, not me. “Zemar, what about your parents? Are they alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve never tried to --”

“After what they put me through, I want nothing to do with them.”

“I understand,” she whispered although she didn’t. His barriers were so strong, the protective layers he’d built around himself maybe impenetrable. But tonight there was nothing except the two of them and this unexpected closeness. She kissed the base of his rib cage. He caught his breath. “Will you tell me one thing?”

“Maybe.”

“What did you do before you -- before you came here? It was willingly on your part, wasn’t it?”

“To a large extent, yes.” He ran a hand under her chin and lifted her head so she was looking at him. A shiver ran through her. “I didn’t fit where I was. Fishing off Alaska kept me away from cities and that was good. But it’s dangerous work.”

“I know.” She imagined him standing on the deck of a violently rocking boat, endless storms battering his body, driving wind and rain abusing his flesh. “I mean, I read that deep sea fishing there is the most dangerous job in the world. Why were you doing that?”

“Good money.”

Not enough reason. Maybe you were hiding from yourself. Trying to stay alive kept you too busy for anything else.

“One day I was thrown overboard during a storm. I knew I was drowning. I had only one regret, that in many respects I was still the child I once was. I wanted to feel power, to be the one in control.”

“And -- and that’s when you wound up here?”

He nodded, and the line of his mouth told her he’d said as much as he would, or could. Wanting to let him know it was all right, she repositioned herself so she could run her tongue over a nipple. She touched silk stretched over steel. He’d recently taken a shower but whatever he’d used hadn’t cleansed his flesh of his essence. He tasted alive, male. When she closed her mouth around his nub, he grabbed hold of her hair but didn’t pull her off him. Loving the mastery implied in the act, feeling the impact deep in her groin, she bathed first one nipple and then the other. A muscle in his chest quivered. She took the nub in her teeth. Another shudder accompanied his quick breath. Then she walked her fingers over his rib cage, learning what she could about his lean, muscled strength, trying to imagine what it had felt like to be alone and freezing in the middle of the ocean. If he’d died --

If it hadn’t been for the growing heat between her legs, she might have been content to devote everything to his needs, but his manipulation of her body had triggered a primitive reaction she couldn’t and didn’t want to ignore. Needing his touch, she moved his hands from her hair to her shoulders, then returned her mouth to his chest. Strange how someone so strong could remind her of satin.

As she again took a nub between her teeth and lightly nipped him, she felt his fingers at her throat. He slid the collar back and forth. Instead of being reminded of her slavery, she reveled in the sensual feel of metal against her flesh.

Then he ran a finger under the collar and all she felt was him.

This time when she reached for the loincloth, she didn’t hold back from reaching under the fabric. She touched the sleek, velvet flesh that encased the core of Zemar’s strength. She’d known he was well-hung but to actually have her hands on him caused her heart to race and her cheeks to heat. As yet incapable of making the contact any more intimate, she ran her knuckles over him. They grazed his balls and traveled his length, circling the underside of his head, journeying over it, finally reaching the tip. A drop of moisture waited for her. She captured it, reluctantly withdrew her hand, and licked her finger. She tasted heat. Was it possible? His sperm, the essence of life, actually rested on her tongue? Then she looked up into smoldering eyes.

“I thought I knew what I was going to do if you gave me the opportunity,” she whispered. Saltiness reached the back of her throat. “But I don’t know my boundaries, what you’ll let me do, when you’ll make me stop.”

“There’s no stopping tonight.”

His simple words filled her with life and promise. They only had this single night, but like her, he wanted it to mean everything. To last forever. Her world closed down, and there was no morning. Her slavery belonged to another time, to a woman who cared about more than giving herself to this incredible man.

Is it really the island or even my submissive nature and your dominance? Maybe it’s me, you, us.

He settled his hands around her waist and guided her onto the middle of the bed. Then, caressed and revealed by the muted light, he removed his single piece of clothing and dropped it to the floor. He stood over her, huge and proud. Ready. Hungry. Starving herself, she spread her legs and reached for him. When he climbed onto the bed and knelt beside her, his weight pulled her toward him. She might have rolled onto her side if not for his hand pressing on her thigh.

Touch me everywhere. Please, let every inch of my flesh get to know you.

Smiling faintly, he gripped her thigh and studied her sex. Unashamed, she waited. This is me, the private, vulnerable, hungry essence beneath the surface. I give it to you, freely, joyfully. His gaze heated her even more. Before, her core had been his to do to as he chose. Now she offered her pussy as a gift.

She ran her fingers up his legs, drawing out the journey from knees to thighs to hips. Her fingertips traveled up and over his pelvic bone, ventured closer and closer to his cock. Instead of denying her access, he turned his attention to her pelvis.

I accept your gift, his dark gaze seemed to be saying. I understand the true meaning behind this exploration.

At times she barely felt his touch. Then, a heartbeat later, he’d press a thumb or finger against her, igniting her in always new, exciting ways. She brushed his cock. Over and over again she made contact but carefully avoided any kind of a pattern. His intense eyes watched her every movement. She sensed his wariness. No wonder. After who know how long spent manipulating and conditioning women, he’d forgotten -- if he’d ever known -- that sometimes there were no ulterior motives. Sometimes two people simply wanted to fuck.

Fuck. Sex. Make love?

Dizzy with a need she couldn’t articulate or contain, she scooted around until she’d positioned her legs on either side of him. She kept her hands on him, learning, gifting. Eager to deepen the contact, she increased the pressure on his legs. They now fit securely between her knees. She reached up and tried to pull him down over her. She didn’t care that she’d assumed the missionary position because even now, even in this, he was her lord and master.

Stroking his neck, shoulders, and arms by turn, she returned his gaze. It bothered her that she couldn’t read his mood. When he stretched out over her, she felt a momentary panic, then squelched it. Live in the moment. Keep it everything. His cock brushed her mons, sparking a volcanic response deep inside. Spurred by heat and energy, she bent her legs and arched her pelvis toward him, called him home.

My gift to you, to us.

He slid in so easily, so fully that the penetration was complete before she’d comprehended the journey. He loomed over her and trapped her between his body and the mattress. She smelled only him, felt nothing but him. Her cunt had expanded to accommodate his size, and she felt his balls pressing against her flesh. Sudden panic snaked through her. Then she felt his muscles relax and believed he’d read her fear. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up at him.

The strange lighting kept his features in the dark, but maybe it was better this way. She could concentrate on the union between them and the mutual gifts of their bodies.

Speak to me without words. Sense my honesty, my trust.

He pushed in even deeper. She felt his strength build. It flowed over her, weakening her tendons and muscles. You’re everything, my everything. But she didn’t want it to be take and surrender between them, not this time, this first -- no, she would not think “only” -- time, so locked herself in place. I’m strong. Strong. Her cunt felt alive. He filled her and more. She couldn’t distinguish between them. His body, his cock, became part of her, finding nerve endings and switching on yet more circuits. Hot and strong and weak all at the same time, she ceased to exist as a separate person. It didn’t matter. This moment was everything.

With every thrust he absorbed more and more of her. Her cunt, her soul, became his, and she gave them willingly. She embraced his cock and heartbeat in ways she’d never comprehended, felt only their shared heat, his relentless driving, her pelvis and hips and belly reaching up to him. When strength deserted her arms, she flung them out and transferred everything into the union.

Her thighs trembled, and her bowed back ached, and her feet threatened to slide on the bed, but she held herself in place. He drove down on her, his grunts as strident as hers.

Find me. Find me. I want to sing and shout for you, for both of us.

“Now, now, now!” she cried.

“Now what?”

Don’t know. Don’t care. She locked herself in place, held her own as his cock pummeled her. It was if the air had been sucked out of the room, causing her to gasp. She smelled his sweat and hers. She tasted him, tasted herself, bit the inside of her mouth, didn’t care.

“Now!”

“What?” He strained against her, his body rigid.

“Coming! God, coming!”

“Wait -- for me.”

Somehow she did. Somehow she held the force at bay. His cock retreated slightly, impaled her again. Repeated. Held.

“Now!” He loomed over her, his sweaty chest sliding over her breasts. “Now!”

“Coming!” She struggled to repeat the word but only screamed. Screamed and screamed. He plowed into her and lifted her buttocks off the bed.

Slowly, she started to come down, but after grinding his elbows into the bed, he thrust and thrust. She clung to him, gripped his powerful ass with aching, trembling fingers. Then he exploded inside her. His cum filled her and drowned her. Thank you. Thank you.

His sweat-drenched body settled over her, and even as his cock retreated, she kept herself loose and open for him. He rested on top of her. They panted as one.

It’s all right. Everything is all right. For this moment.

He rocked back a little but not enough to break the contact. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he muttered.

“I know.”

“It won’t happen after tonight.”

“I know.”

Instead of getting off her, he pressed his lips against hers, pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasted and explored, and as he did, his cock again swelled. He folded her legs tight against her belly and caressed her breasts. “I can’t get enough of them.”

“I can’t get enough of you touching them.” Tell me how I’m going to get through the rest of my life without this, without you?

The words clogged in her throat. She held him with one hand on an elbow and the other around his neck. His cock continued to expand. He easily pushed deep inside her slick, hot passage. “Yes,” she whimpered.

Unlike the first time, now his strokes felt long and slow. He caressed tissue that should be numb, kept her on the edge, not allowing her to fall into her climax even though she whimpered and strained.

“I love feeling your need.” His breath feathered against her ear.

“I can’t -- I have no control ...”

Neither do I.

She’d heard his thoughts. She had no doubt of that. But her muscles trembled, and she became heat, and she couldn’t concentrate.

He slid his hands under her buttocks. The instant his cock ran along the front of her vaginal wall, she came.

And kept coming.

She didn’t know how many times they fucked that night or how many times she climaxed.

Later when she rose on unsteady legs and started toward the bathroom, he stopped her with a hand on her thigh. “You told me about your father, but when was the last time you asked a man for something?”

“I was eighteen.”

“Still a girl. What happened?”

After everything they’d shared, she felt no need to hold back anything. “My mother had been dead for six months, but I was having a terrible time dealing with the loss. There was this man. At least to me back then, someone who had graduated from college was a man. His mother and mine had been friends, so I’d known him for a long time. We started seeing each other shortly after the funeral. I needed -- I needed to feel as if I belonged to someone, wasn’t alone. Then I got pregnant.”

He drew her down and held her against his strong body.

“I had this fantasy that we’d get married and raise our child together. Create a family.”

“Did you love him?”

“I thought I did.” Her throat felt tight, but she knew she wouldn’t cry. Those tears had been spent years ago. “He didn’t say much the night I told him, but the next day he called to say he’d just gotten his first job, had student loans to pay off, wanted to do things with his life that didn’t include children or a wife. He wanted me to have an abortion.”

“Did you?”

“No. That tiny life inside me was precious. Having him say what he did hurt almost as much as losing my mother had. I -- I did something I’m not proud of. Something I’ve spent years trying to forget.”

“Tell me, please.”

Please. “I went to his place. When he opened the door, I got down on my knees and begged him not to abandon me and our child. I told him how scared I was of being alone. That I’d rather die than lose him. That I’d do whatever he wanted to make it work between us. It -- it became like it had been with my father all over again. He tried to push me away and I wrapped my arms around his legs and begged some more. I don’t know. Maybe he became my father in my mind.” Still appalled by how she’d demeaned herself, she nevertheless met Zemar’s gaze. “He kicked me off him and said I was making a fool of myself and he was disgusted.” She briefly closed her eyes. “He was right, you know.”

“You were desperate.”

“Yes. But pleading with him wasn’t going to change him. He was who he was.”

“A selfish bastard.”

“And honest.”

Zemar frowned, then nodded. “You went home then?”

“I was in no condition to be driving, but yes, I went home. A week later I miscarried. I left him a message telling him, but he never got in touch.”

“Miscarried. I’m so sorry.”

“At the time I thought I’d die. Losing her -- I was already convinced I was going to have a girl -- nearly destroyed me. But I healed, finally. Learned how to insulate my heart. I’ve never allowed myself to hurt like that again.”

“I understand.”

“Because of your back?”

“Because I was so damn wrong to believe my parents understood the meaning of the word love.”

Chapter Fourteen

Early morning sunlight touched Asia’s eyes. She started to turn away from it, then stretched. Last night slipped into her mind. She clung to the memory of touches, words, bodies sharing. Beside her Zemar slept.

Her full bladder wakened her even more, and she sat up. The promise of a shower should have sent her into the bathroom. Instead, she leaned over him so she could run her lips over his marred back.

These scars are part of you, part of what I want to learn about you.

She was still kissing him when the door to her prison opened. Two men clad entirely in gray stepped in. Jumping to her feet, she started back-pedaling. The taller one reached her first, grabbing her tangled hair and forcing her to her knees.

“Guess who?” the other one said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zemar surge upright.

“This is your morning wake-up call,” the man holding her down said. “From what we saw last night, we didn’t think you’d be up at dawn.”

“Damn it, don’t hurt her,” Zemar ordered.

“Don’t worry. We know how to handle the merchandise. Go back to sleep. We’ll take it from here.” Not waiting for Zemar to answer, he used his hold on her hair to haul her to her feet and into the bathroom. The shorter man also squeezed into the small space and positioned himself so she could no longer see Zemar.

The taller man turned on the cold water faucet and shoved her into the shower. She gasped and tried to get away, but his firm grip kept her in place. Shivering, she had no choice but to stand under the chilling spray with her head bent uncomfortably toward the man holding her. The other reached in and used a rough, soapy sponge to thoroughly scrub her. He got soap in her eyes and mouth, distracting her a little from his intimate invasion of her body. No matter how she struggled to get away, he washed her throat, breasts, back, belly, arms, and legs. He left her inner thighs and labia until last and lingered over the task. When she tried to back away, he dug his fingers into her hip and all but buried the sponge in her cunt.

Ashamed and on the brink of tears, she stopped fighting.

The water was still running when they yanked her back into the larger room where they pushed her face-first against the nearest wall. The taller man swiped at her with a towel, paying particular attention to her breasts and between her legs. They cuffed her hands behind her and rammed a ball gag in her mouth before releasing her.

Barely trusting her legs, she turned around. Zemar was leaning against the wall opposite the bed, still naked, his features unreadable.

“You know why we’re doing it this way,” one of the men said to Zemar. “The video.”

“Yeah,” he’d said without expression. “I stepped over the line.”

“We didn’t have to see much of what went on here last night. You’ve lost objectivity with this one.” He’d jerked his head at her. “Crap, I’ve never seen so much fucking in one night in my life. Didn’t know it was possible. I don’t suppose you’d have much use for her for a few days anyway. She as hot at she looked?”

“Listen to me. You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

“Like I’m going to damage the merchandise?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of here.”

“We intend to,” he’d said as the other man pushed her toward the door.

She started to send Zemar a pleading look, then forced herself not to acknowledge his existence. If he truly cared about her, if he had any concern for her fate, he’d stop those men. But he was a Dom with a job to complete. Last night had been an aberration, brief insanity on both their parts.

The men shoved her into a vehicle that resembled a golf cart. Instead of having space for golf clubs, however, it had been constructed with what she thought of as a roll bar. They released her wrists only to refasten them to the overhead bar. Arms outstretched and her ankles anchored to the bar’s base, she was forced to stand during the ride. The vehicle didn’t have wheels. Instead, it hovered a few inches over the path as it sped through the jungle. At least the trip was smooth, saving her from having to fight to keep her balance. What she wasn’t saved from was a profound helplessness. By the time she’d finally gathered her senses enough to look over her shoulder, the prison and Zemar was out of sight.

Her captors obviously didn’t care whether she heard them talking, probably because they considered her less than human. The taller one who seemed to be in charge was pissed at and confused by Zemar’s break from regulations and maintained he would need to undergo retraining before being entrusted with another initiate. The other, who kept reaching back to fondle her breasts and reach between her legs, was inclined to cut Zemar a measure of slack. He understood how a trainer could lose control and fuck a slave in training.

After cursing his companion, the man in charge pointed out that a rare combination of domination and self-restraint was necessary if a trainer was going to remain in control of both the situation and himself. Fucking a newly captured woman was against the rules. Everything was about forced orgasms, bondage, making the female feel like an object instead of a human being.

Zemar knew better.

“Damn straight he did,” the other man remarked as the vehicle stopped moving. “But if you think they’re going to slap his wrist you’re crazy. With his reputation and seniority, the leaders will probably turn the video into a training tool. Brainwashing 101. Ain’t that right, slave? Got you all confused.” He punctuated his remark by again trying to insert a finger in her. Fortunately, they’d left her with enough freedom of movement that she wrenched to the side. Still, what if he’d been right? Zemar had deliberately made her think he cared?

Numb, she had to give herself a mental shake before she could take in her surroundings. She couldn’t call where the two men had taken her a city. Enclosed by tall wooden fencing that put her in mind of a frontier fort, its size was more in keeping with a village. From what little she could tell as she and her handlers approached, it looked as if the fencing was designed to be added onto as the population grew. As soon as they passed through the massive, solid gate, it closed behind them.

They were now in a large courtyard of sorts with brightly colored seating arrangements set up in the middle of a circular drive. The seating was full of men, most of them ominously sporting black loincloths. The way they conducted themselves left no doubt that these were men of power and position. The arrangements consisted of comfortable and sturdy seats at graduated heights so everyone had a clear view of whatever went on in the drive.

There was enough room between each seat that a trio of naked women, with golden chains dangling from their pierced nipples, were able to circulate, carrying drinks and food-filled trays. All three gave off an unmistakable air of subservience. They kept their eyes downcast, and when a man snapped his fingers, they stopped and allowed the man to fondle them.

As if that wasn’t enough, each man had at least one woman with him. Most knelt before their masters, although two stood with their hands behind them and their legs widespread, ready to perform tasks she didn’t want to think about. The majority was naked although several wore what looked like chastity belts. All had on collars with chains. None of the women so much as resisted, but their owners kept a tight grip on the chains -- in what seemed to be a matter of one-upmanship. The more tightly a man constricted his slave’s movements, the more she resembled a beaten animal, the more superior the man’s demeanor.

“Quite a display, don’t you think?” the man who’d just tried to shove his fingers inside her asked. “Gives you an idea what to expect.”

As if proving the point, a master suddenly grabbed his slave’s breast and hauled her closer. Asia shuddered at the thought of naked knees scraping along the cement risers. Despite her obvious discomfort, the woman struggled to comply. The man slapped her face and shoved her head toward his crotch. Trembling, the woman lifted his elaborately decorated loincloth and took his enormous cock into her mouth.

The vehicle she’d been bound to started moving again. This time it bumped over the rocky surface, causing her to nearly lose her balance. If she hadn’t been tethered, she would have. As it was, she rocked back and forth, her breasts swaying. Noticing that a number of the men were looking behind her, she glanced in that direction. Another vehicle had pulled into line. It too held a naked, bound, and gagged woman. This one had long white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Her breasts were enormous -- obviously surgically enhanced. Like the women she’d seen in the stadium, this one looked both resigned and excited.

She was still trying to comprehend the moods when a sound alerted her to the arrival of a third display vehicle. This one held two women. One was so fair that Asia wondered if her skin ever saw the sun, while the other was African-American. They’d been displayed in such a way that the contrast between them was heightened. Bound so their backs were to each other with rope wrapped around their waists and their buttocks touching, they appeared as halves of a whole. A human yin yang. The fairer one had a wide-eyed, startled look, while the other seemed to be all but licking her lips behind her gag. Her generous hips exaggerated the vehicle’s movements.

Almost as one, the male audience leaned forward. Some applauded while others crudely teased in loud voices about which of them was man enough to master both slaves at once. Although Asia shuddered at the thought of the women’s fate, at least she was no longer the lone center of attention.

Once she’d been paraded in front of her potential buyers, her driver positioned her so everyone had an unobstructed view of her. The other vehicles parked nearby, the one holding the two in the middle.

On display.

A tall, distinguished-looking man, dressed entirely in black complete with a cape and mask, stepped in front of the vehicles. He held a small microphone in one hand. In the other was a long, thin whip.

“We have quite a selection here today, gentlemen,” he began and the crowd fell silent. Even the groveling women turned their attention to the new captives. A few shivered, probably remembering when they’d been the ones up for sale. Several glared, maybe upset because their standing with their masters was in jeopardy. “We’d hoped to have a larger lot ready for your purchase and amusement, but we can’t always have a bumper crop, can we? These two --” He indicated the mismatched pair. “-- are a true treat and will be sold together. This one --” His whip flicked over the other woman’s large boobs. “-- spent more time in training than we’d hoped because her resistance to her new life took longer than anticipated to break down. Rest assured. Despite her impressive and expensive mammary glands, her surgery didn’t result in lessened responsiveness there.”

The whip snaked out, expertly landing on both nipples. Shrieking behind her gag, the woman fought her bonds. Several slavers applauded. “She’s inordinately protective of her assets, an attitude her new owner can either use to his advantage or beat it out of her. She’s multi-orgasmic and has been trained to take cock up her ass. She doesn’t like it.”

That resulted in more applause and several obscene remarks about how much fun forcing her to submit would be. The woman’s eyes became even wider. She shot Asia a pleading look.

“And then --” The auctioneer spun toward Asia. “-- we have an unknown quantity. This one was assigned to Zemar.”

Nods and approving muttering followed his announcement.

“I need say no more, do I, gentlemen? She’s been handled by the best. The decision was made to terminate the training early. Rest assured, there’s nothing defective about the merchandise. The island chose her according to the proven criteria and standards and is highly sexed.” A flick of the wrist landed the whip between Asia’s legs. Grunting, she struggled to close them.

“What happened?” a man called out. “She bite off Zemar’s balls?”

“Hell no,” another retorted. “More likely Zemar got her so worn out he couldn’t do anything more with her. That it, slave? Getting speared by his instruments ’bout killed you? Nothing left of you ’cept an empty shell?”

“What’s the truth?” a third demanded. “There anything left of her?”

“Ah, you want proof that the merchandise is as advertised, do you? Nothing is simpler.” With that, the auctioneer held aloft the whip base. His gesture resulted in lewd laughter from the men accompanied by demands that he use it for the demonstration.

Horrified, Asia jerked and twisted in a desperate but futile attempt to escape. She sobbed into her gag when the hooded man stepped onto the platform where she’d been tethered. Although she thrashed from side to side, the bastard clamped his hand over her buttocks with such strength that pain slammed into her. She didn’t recover to resist until it was too late. The smooth, warm whip handle slid into her defenseless opening. Gasping into the gag, she rose onto her toes but couldn’t free herself from the horrible invasion.

“Give it to her!”

“Start her twisting.”

“Off with the gag. We want to hear her scream.”

The auctioneer manipulated the makeshift dildo so it spun inside her. Even as she lifted herself as high as she could, she looked down at herself. The man’s hand hid what he was doing from her view, but she didn’t need to see to know. If that wasn’t bad enough, he grabbed hold of a breast and cruelly massaged it.

This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t! And yet, she was responding. Not being able to move, exposed, and violated, mirrored her most powerful fantasies. In the past, her imaginary tormentors had been featureless. Now, however, she saw his face -- Zemar.

Zemar was doing this to her! He knew her limits and desires, dreams and the depth and breadth of her sexuality. Although being fucked by the whip base came close to being painful, the delicate balance between agony and pleasure mesmerized her. Heat and sexual electricity ran through her, and although she hated her weakness, she began trying to fuck the dildo. Lost, she closed her eyes. Her head lolled to the side, and she ceased to live anywhere but in her cunt.

Do me, Zemar! Please, turn me into a slut! Force me, force me to come for you.

Sudden shouts and curses pulled her back into the real world. Opening her eyes, she spotted a tall, powerful figure striding toward her.

Zemar jumped onto the platform and struck the auctioneer so violently that the man fell off, slamming his head on the ground. Ignoring him, Zemar yanked at the straps holding her gag in place. Only then did he pull the improvised dildo out of her. His fingers lingered at her opening, and she had no doubt that he could feel her juices. If her reaction disgusted him --

“She’s not for sale,” Zemar announced as the auctioneer struggled to sit up. “Not today and not ever.”

“Why not?” someone demanded. “You keeping her for yourself?”

He didn’t answer.

Chapter Fifteen

The door closed behind Zemar. Although the room he’d carried her into intrigued her, Asia didn’t take her eyes off the man. The air smelled of a curious mixture of spring mornings and sex, adding to her agitation. Because he’d released her chains, she absently massaged her wrists. Her mouth ached from what had been shoved into it, but that was nothing compared to the sensations still pounding in her pussy.

“I should have come earlier.” He gestured toward the comfortable looking recliner to her right, indicating he wanted her to sit. She complied because she didn’t trust her legs to hold her. Because it was Zemar, she’d do whatever he asked. . “But there were things I needed to do first.”

“I was going to be sold.” She couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. “As if I was some animal. If you hadn’t shown up --” She shuddered. “It was worse than I expected. And yet the idea excited me. After all those years of dreaming about being part of the lifestyle, it felt right.”

Nodding, he positioned himself in front of her. Although her awareness of her nudity threatened to command what little ability she had to concentrate, she rested her hands on the padded armrest and studied his dusky features. He seemed even larger and more imposing than when he’d kept her bound and helpless. “Was there anything you didn’t like or understand?” Despite his seemingly casual question, his gaze was intense.

“The way the slaves were forced to act, the chains.”

“You believe they’re forced?”

“I don’t know what else to call it. One woman -- her master made her give him head in front of everyone.”

“And if you touched her cunt, you’d have discovered she was all but flooding herself.”

Just as I did when the auctioneer mechanically fucked me.

“The island is a world unto itself, Asia. Fantasy and fulfillment. No boundaries.”

Although she kept her attention locked on him, she allowed more memories of the past few minutes to surface. She’d been scared because she hadn’t been able to move and didn’t know what was going to happen to her. At the same time, having years of sexual dreams become reality had been an undeniable turn-on. She’d even enjoyed the crude things the masters had said and being the center of attention -- even now she wished she could see how bidding was going.

“This was your fantasy,” he prodded. “Something the island identified and tapped into. On the day you lost your job, you made it clear you wanted someone else to take over ownership of your body, someone who understood your secret thoughts and desires. Your deepest needs.”

He leaned over and rested his hands on her arm rest. Now she smelled only him, was aware only of him. He became everything. “You understand that’s why you were chosen to be brought here, don’t you? Because you belong on Surrender Island.”

Her heart raced. “But you -- you said it yourself that I didn’t act like any other prisoner you’ve worked with.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want the lifestyle.” Not taking his gaze off her, he moved to her side and ran a hand between her legs. She started to clamp thighs together, then, sighing, relaxed. “You crave this.” He stroked her, and she felt her response throughout her loose-as-melted-butter-body. When he transferred his hand to her mouth, she shamelessly licked her juices from his fingers. “You’re alone in the world, Asia. Just like me.”

“I -- I have friends.”

“Who will go on with their lives just as you will carve out a new one here.”

She thought about sitting up. She just couldn’t convince her muscles to make the effort, not with his hands now on her shoulder holding her in place -- holding her ready for him.

“That’s why I was slow getting to the auction site,” he said. “There were things I had to take care of.”

“What things?”

“Arranging to have my other slaves sold.”

“Your -- your other ...”

Although she tried to straighten, he refused to let her. I’m yours. Yours. “I have two right now, beautiful but simple and highly sexed creatures, who care only about themselves.”

Jealousy washed over her. Mindful of his position of power on the island, she struggled to contain it.

Watching her intently, he slid a hand to her throat and closed his powerful fingers around it. “I’m going to collar you. Only I will be able to remove it. It’ll stand as partial proof of my ownership of you.” Both hands moved to her breasts, covering and flattening them under his palms. “And I may have you pierced here.”

Hot currents arched through her.

“Slender rings but not so delicate that they’re useless, because I want to be able to easily control you.” Sudden, hard pressure on her nipples drove his message home. “Silver or gold links attached to the rings will keep you wherever I want you, however I want you.”

As his words fed her imagination, the current took up residence in her pussy. Trembling and excited, she lifted her pelvis toward him. Ignoring her blatant plea, he used his grip on her nipples to bring her to her feet. Instead of releasing her, he forced her onto her toes. Her arms hung useless at her side as she fought the discomfort and her legs threatened to collapse.

“This is my place. I have another, larger one in the jungle, but when I come to the village, I stay here. I bring my slaves so I can participate in the lifestyle and entertainment. I intend to present you, to demonstrate your submissive nature. When I do, you will conduct yourself as a slave, do you understand?”

A slave.His slave. “Yes,” she whispered. It took all her self control not to touch his cock. “I understand, Master.”

“You don’t fully yet.” His fingers continued to cut off the circulation in her nipples. “But you will by the time I’m done training you. You want that, don’t you?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. He rewarded her by spreading her legs. As she widened her stance, hot juices trailed down the insides of her legs.

“I smell you. If you’d been able to go into the stands today, you’d smell sex on the slaves. If you looked into their eyes, you’d see a submissiveness that goes into their souls.”

“I know, Master.” I truly do, now.

“They live for this.” After releasing her nipples, he began his assault on her sex by sliding his fingers over her mons but quickly reached deeper. She felt his fingertips gliding over her slick and hungry opening and started to lift her pelvis toward him. “Have I given you permission to move?” he demanded and pinched her labia.

“No, Master. I -- I am sorry.”

“Pain will bring you pleasure.” He demonstrated with another pinch, which she fought by imagining his fingers, his cock, inside her. “And when I take you naked and restrained to a banquet and command you to kneel at my feet and eat out of my hand, you will love your treatment, won’t you?”

Images of what he’d just described made her face heat. An even greater heat hugged her cunt. “Yes, Master.”

He flattened his hand over her pussy and pushed, bringing her back to her toes. “Even if you could leave the island, you wouldn’t, would you?”

“No, Master.”

“Because I’m offering you the life you’ve long secretly wanted.”

“No, Master. At least that’s not all of it.”

He released her and stepped back so he could regard her, but because he hadn’t given her permission to close her legs, she remained open to him. “Not all?”

Risking his displeasure, she lifted her head so he could see into her eyes. “It isn’t just being mastered that I want. I used to imagine it was, that being forced to obey, to have everything revolve around the granting or denial of sexual satisfaction would be enough, but it isn’t.”

“What else do you want?”

“You, Master. Only you.”

“Why?”

“May -- do I have permission to touch you?”

A short nod supplied her with the answer. Ignoring his straining cock, she stepped behind him and ran her mouth over his scars. When he shuddered, she brought her tongue into play and slowly, gently bathed the old wounds. Someday, hopefully, he would tell her everything, but just as she was learning to trust him, she’d have to earn the same from him.

Several scars extended to his buttocks. With trembling fingers, she untied his loincloth and let it drop to the ground. She wouldn’t always be able to do this; she understood his ability and right to control every aspect of their relationship. But he needed this acknowledgement of his past and the resultant emotional scars. Kneeling, she tongue-bathed his marred buttocks. And moment by moment he relaxed.

“No woman has ever done that.”

Not slave, woman. Understanding what the distinction said about the depths of their relationship, she lovingly traced the scars with her fingertips. “Maybe you didn’t let them?”

“They didn’t care. Their journey, the change from freedom to slavery, sexual satisfaction -- that’s all that mattered.”

“They saw you as a Dom, a master, not a human being, a man.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not them, Master.”

“I know,” he said and turned around.

Still on her knees, she looked up at her lord, her lover, her future. Her life.

Not waiting for permission, she lifted his cock and guided it toward her mouth. Inch by slow inch, she brought him into the moist cave of her mouth.

Now his hands were at his sides and hers on his flanks. Her fingers stroked the silken flesh over muscles made of steel and she comprehended, deeply and completely, how strong and powerful her master was. Her tongue, teeth, throat caressed and teased. Maybe she should have told him she’d never done this before but she suspected he already knew.

For a long time, she tested and rewarded, loved and worshipped. As she did, she learned his taste, his width and length, his capacity for self-control. And she learned that putting his pleasure ahead of her own became everything. Even as her pussy trembled and wept, even as her nipples tightened and her cheeks burned and her blood raced, only he mattered.

And when he began thrusting at her, she took and gave. In her mind, her mouth became her pussy, and she brought him to the brink of climax and beyond. Held his cum in her mouth before letting it slip down her throat.

And as she did, she came. Long, strong.

Finally he stood before her, his cock soft and resting. He kept her on her knees with a hand on her head.

“You belong to me.” He sounded both masterful and in awe.

“I know, Master.”

“And I belong to you.”

I know.

Vonna Harper

Mild-mannered, mostly harmless, with out-of-control imagination.  Loves mountains, early morning walks, her grandchildren, and "hot" books.  Has no marketable skills beyond writing which is no problem because there's nothing else she'd rather do.  The product of the ultimate in a rural upbringing, Vonna has no interest in cities or panty-hose, but is passionate about plant nurseries and baseball.  She's had over fifty books published, all but one fiction.

Visit Vonna on the Web at http://www.vonnaharper.com or email her at vonnaharper@charter.net.

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Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of

Tempest

by Louisa Trent

Available Now from Loose Id

Tempest

He understood her goal. To save the Sald, she would sacrifice anything, including herself, including truthfulness. Loyalty to her adopted clan motivated her dishonesty and, for that reason, Kore could not condemn her duplicity. So long as her desire for him was true ...

She did honestly desire him, and that desire was the only truth he could trust about the little trickster.

Crouched low at the end of the bed, he turned his gaze to his prisoner's flat belly, so pale in comparison to his own skin tones. His gaze drifted lower, to the thatch of bright red curls, a winsome triangle that failed to entirely cover the succulently plump lips to her passage, a narrow channel no lover had ever breached.

There was no question as to her body's receptiveness; her pubic curls glistened with need, the notch swollen. Oh, he incited her arousal all right, even as she withheld her love, giving that sweet sentiment to another.

No need for her petitioning. He always repaid his obligations -- the Sald would have their sanctuary. Shelter was the least of the debt he owed; he would grant the Brothers and Sister safe shelter and more. His gratitude to that clan would last throughout his life.

And so there was no need for her to wheedle and scheme for the Sald -- what Kore gave, he gave freely. But he had not the forbearance to refuse Amilaw's provocation. As she herself had remarked, with the tempest upon them, all they had was the here and now. Though it was unprincipled, he had longed for her for too many revs to give her up now.

Making the most of the now, Kore leaned forward and worshipfully kissed first one perfect breast, and then the other before setting one stipulation.

“No deal,” he growled. “Give to me because it is what you desire.”

He sensed the immediate withdrawal of her feelings.

Amilaw would let him have her body, but would distance herself from any deeper connection. This Kore would not allow -- one thing to be used, another to be ignored. He had been ignored all his life, looked right through by his clan. Amilaw would see him for who he was during this, the most intimate of acts.

Kore gently suckled a nipple, his tongue tenderly courting the upright arrow.

Unable to block him out, Amilaw gave a husky cry. Her mien going from a retreat to active engagement, she reached up for him. Him. Not Sethne. He sensed she now knew who was forcing sensations upon her, who was making her feel something when she didn't want to feel anything -- the Keht barbarian.

“Harder,” she insisted, her fingers tightening on his forearm. “Do it harder! Bite me. Leave your mark.”

He cringed. Intentionally break the soft, pale, silky skin that drew him?

And then Kore knew -- as she rejected him, so, too, did she reject the sweet lovemaking he offered. Drawn to his animal magnetism, she looked for barbarous foreplay, not soft caresses.

With a sigh, he bit her nipple, then soothed the ache with his tongue. He did the same to the other nipple. Bite and soothe, savage and heal, until she purred deep in her throat.

Hurt and pleasure -- once his appetites had called for the same. And so he would pleasure her while hurting her, hurt her while pleasuring her, if that was what she needed him to do.

When Kore took a deep breath, the action released her breast from between his teeth. He looked down into her face as she avariciously licked her lips, rubbed her reddened and wet nipple.

“Do you give to me?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“Every part of your body?” He would not ask for her love, would not force her to lie.

“Aye. My body is yours, my liege.”

“Then offer me your neck, as a defeated animal does.”

He read fear in her eyes. Excitement, too. She feared that primitive, uncivilized part of herself, that wild side of her that so aptly matched the wildness in him, even as that hidden part of him, that animal part of him, excited her.

At his instruction, she arched her neck on the furs, presenting him with her vulnerable throat.

He dipped his head to the task. As she rocked back and forth on the furs and made small mewling noises, Kore suckled and bit into Amilaw's pale flesh. Bruising her, breaking the skin, he made his way down her body, alternately enflaming and then soothing the fire away, whilst leaving angry red marks behind.

Her thighs fell open, her pelvis raised.

One hand under her bottom, his palm shelving her at the demarcation between the round halves, he dragged her forward. As he had positioned himself on his haunches, her hips now rested atop his thighs, her legs propped up on his shoulders.

He opened her. All the way open. Separating the folds, he peered inside at the wet pink flesh, closely examining the succulent bud at the top.

To give her surcease, he plied his thumb to the nubbin.

Panting, she pulled at the single chain that held her captive on the bed. “Oh-oh-oh.”

He pinched the end of her wounded teat, whilst squeezing, always squeezing, that small scrap of flesh at the top of her slit.

Moisture dripped from her opening. Dipping his head, he rubbed his face into the female secretions, smelled her female animal musk, lapped the wetness into his mouth, his tongue flicking fast, slow, fast again. Finally, he pierced the passage with his tongue.

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What people are saying about

Tempest

Tempest is a wonderfully written erotic romance that will entertain and please readers on several levels. From its well-written prose, to its intricate plot and characterization, to the sizzling sex scenes, Tempest offers something for every reader.

-- Terrie Figueroa, Romance Reviews Today

In Tempest, Ms. Trent has written a fantastic futuristic love story that I was unable to put down… A fascinating plot, scorching love scenes and two wonderful characters that will live with the reader well after the story is finished. This one is a keeper!

-- Luisa, Cupid's Library Reviews

The love scenes are so hot and steamy, I would not have been surprised to see steam rise from the pages. The supporting characters are well-developed and add a sense of balance to the story…Ms. Trent has penned a story of love on a futuristic world that I enjoyed very much.

-- Susan White, Coffee Time Romance