Whispers of Slave Island Ch. 02

"Have you ever been tied up?" Evan asked.

Violet's breath caught in her chest, "No."

In dozens of fantasy books, especially the ones about Earth girl slaves on the barbarian world, women were bound, cuffed, left helpless, and at the whim of their masters. Violet had imagined such things, but assumed they were just the workings of fantasy. There were sites online with girls tied, and she had occasionally visited them and yearned, but still assumed it was unreal. To be asked...

"I'm going to tie your hands together," Evan told her with his warm smile.

"Please..." she said and offered her wrists held together to him.

Evan retrieved a small bundle of purple rope from a bag beside Violet's feet under the glove box. He unwound it, keeping a bight in the center so that it was doubled length. He held the U-shaped loop out to Violet, who took it in her hands uncertainly. Evan wound the double strands once around her wrists, then multiple times up her forearms.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

Violet could easily wriggle her hands in the loose coils. She didn't want to tell him how disappointed she was that she could move so freely in it. "It's a little loose..."

He flipped the remaining rope through her bound arms, winding it around all the loops around her wrists and forearms. With a tug, it tightened, pulling all the slack away, making a manacle of cord around her wrists. He drew the double line to himself as Violet tried to find her breath.

"Is that more what you were thinking?" he smirked.

"Yes..." she whispered. She couldn't move her hands apart, they were bound at wrists snugly, but she could easily wriggle her fingers. The loops wrapping around her forearms felt comfortable, contained, and yet she couldn't move the parallel arms apart from each other. There was something about the binding that felt so right.

"Lean to me," he demanded, and she did.

Evan pulled the leash of rope and her arms over her head, then tugged the rope down along her back. Her arms bent, wrapping around the back of her head. He leaned in, almost hugging her as his hands went around behind her back. He worked at the ropes, his lips nibbling on her ear as she squirmed. Then he brought the length of the rope around each side. He crossed them around her breasts, tightened the ends behind her, then looped the strands once again around her chest. He tied the ends together, leaving a knot that pressed against her sternum. The knot created a firm pressure that felt delicious.

When she looked down, she saw the rope had separated her breasts, pulling them apart through the uniform, making them distinct and isolated from each other. When she tugged on the hands bound behind her neck, the ropes on her chest tightened, caressing her in a way that felt so wickedly good and natural.

"You've done this before..." She couldn't stop staring at the rope across her chest.

Evan put a hand between her bound tits and shoved her back into the car seat without saying a word.

He slid a hand up her bare leg, making her moan and shift uncomfortably. She wanted to feel that hand on her.

"I don't have a blindfold, so you're going to close your eyes," he told her.

"Yes, master," she whimpered, mimicking the slave girls from so many fantasy books.

"Good girl," he said, making her insides melt.

One of his hands explored her legs, fingers tracing patterns inside her thighs, moving ever up to the center of her universe. The other found and squeezed her tits. He mauled her roughly, crushing little gasps out of her as he squeezed hard. When his fingertips found a nipple, he squeezed, then pulled through the spandex uniform, her shuddering gasps filled the car. He mauled the cheerleader at his leisure.

When Violet was nothing more than a squirming sobbing mess she begged, "Please master, fuck me. I'm yours."

He responded coldly, "Scoot your ass to the edge of the seat so I can spank you."

Spank her? She'd have to get her whole rear end off the seat to be spanked. Her body responded by wriggling its way to the edge, not enough to bare her cheeks, but she hoped it was enough. Unlike boys her age, he had ignored her plea to be fucked, he wasn't in a rush at all.

A hand covered her pussy through the spandex bloomers. Violet moaned and ground against it, wanting to feel it and frustrated that the uniform was so thick. She kept her eyes closed as she had been instructed, wanting to be a good girl for him, wanting to please him.

His fingers massaged her roughly through the fabric, trying to make up for the loss of sensation with application of force. Violet couldn't stop her hips from rotating into it. She wanted to feel his lips and tongue on her.

Suddenly, his hand was gone. She whimpered, wanting it back. And then it was, in a hard slap that felt like lightning ripping through her core. She screamed and opened her eyes to see him staring at her.

"Close those fucking eyes!" he demanded, and she snapped them shut in an instant.

He slapped her again, and she shrank back, trying to get away from it.

"I didn't tell you to move that ass. Get it back in position."

"It hurts!" she cried.

"Of course it does," he said. "I want it to hurt. I want to see your devotion. Now get your ass back on the edge so I can slap that pussy again."

He wanted to hurt her. The words were a confused jumble in her mind. But he also wanted to test her devotion. He wanted to see if she could endure the pain for him. He was testing her. And that made her pussy pulse. She wasn't good enough for him, unless she could prove it. She wanted to prove it so very badly. She pushed her ass forward feeling bare thigh creep across the edge of the seat exposing herself for him.

"Good girl."

The next slaps came crashing down, and she cried with each one but refused to pull herself back. After about a dozen, she was sobbing and begging him, "Please master, please..."

"You have such sweet cries," he explained. "Your tears make me hard."

She wanted that, to make him want her, even if it meant this torture.

When he ripped the bloomers aside and touched her, she gasped, then moaned for him to take her. Fingers traced her, massaged her roughly, and he announced, "You're wet."

"Yes, master," she said happily.

He shoved two fingers in her, and she cried out yet again. Curling them inside her, he began moving his entire arms, forcing the fingers against her roughly. He pistoned his hand inside her, making her sing in ecstasy. The wet sound and slapping coming from her cunt tipped her over the edge and she screamed out like she hadn't before.

This was what she wanted, her master...

*****

When Tom entered his penthouse, Cock-socket was kneeling naked on the floor waiting for him.

"Wrong." He said, holding out his keys.

The slave looked up, saw him holding the keys out impatiently, and leaped to her feet. She moved so her back was facing the wall and cupped her hand beneath the held keys. It would not do for a slave to try to take them, to tug at something so a master had to yield control of it. A master would drop them into her hands when he was ready, maintaining control of even the most minor things.

He shifted his hand and dropped the keys on the floor. Cock-socket immediately began to bend to retrieve them when he barked, "Stop."

Cock-socket froze, half bent, as Tom stepped in front of her. "No wonder you always have stripes on your ass."

"My apologies, sir," Cock-socket said.

Tom walked past her while saying, "Fetch."

Now that she was given permission to break her pose, she scooped the keys up and placed them in the proper dish on the foyer table. Moving quickly, she followed Tom as he entered his living room.

"Where is the top girl?"

"In the office, she said there was work to do and I should practice my skills with you."

Tom stopped and looked down at the slave following him. She stopped and looked up with wide eyes, then looked down at the floor quickly.

"Sir!" she said. "I should practice my skills with you, sir."

"Five lashes."

"Yes, sir."

Tom resumed his journey to the living room, musing. Evelyn would be on a computer coordinating their trip to the United States. Money was being transferred, arrangements were being made, and meetings were being scheduled. They'd been working on the US visit for weeks now and were still struggling to bring all the pieces together.

He rolled his shoulders. There was a tickle of worry whenever Evelyn was on a computer. She had connections throughout the world. Their first years together, he'd made sure she didn't have access to any communication devices, but she always found a way. Now he let her use them as needed and expected that it would end badly for him one day. Other than keeping the woman in a straitjacket twenty-four hours a day, he didn't see any real way to prevent her from scheming.

Cock-socket came up behind him, her hands and bare tits gliding along his back. She wrapped her fingers around the neckline of his jacket as he shrugged out of it. She moved quickly to the wardrobe and hung it up as he went to his recliner and flicked on the TV.

News of a contentious election in the US poured from the TV as Tom eased himself into his chair. He was tempted to kick his feet up, but knew that Cock-socket was here for a reason, to practice the skills Evelyn had been teaching her.

"Old-fashioned," Tom said as he focused on the news. The election was rushing to its conclusion, and they had only about six months to fine-tune it. The slave rushed to the wet bar and began preparing his drink.

On the screen, former President Thorne promised a return to traditional values, citing that the American people needed to return to what made them strong. Tom smirked, when Isla Serena returned to tradition it granted him a slave delivering a drink right now, and another to teach her to properly suck cock. That was the type of return to tradition that Tom appreciated, but he knew coming from Thorne it was all hot air. He wondered what circumstances might be required to get the US to follow Isla Serena in making women what they truly were, holes for use. The larger country had once given up alcohol; he supposed anything was possible.

Cock-socket brought his drink. She knelt in front of and to the side of his recliner, holding the drink up in both hands as if offering tribute to a god. The slave was in her early twenties, and Tom took a moment to appreciate her tight, perfect skin. Fucking her in front of her owner, Vargas, in front of all the other men had been sublime. The only thing that would have made it better was if Vargas had feelings for her. Like all men on the council, and most men on Isla Serena, women were just objects.

He took the glass and enjoyed a long sip. The drink was mediocre, matching the slave's oral skills. Evelyn had been working with her for a few weeks, and Tom was curious to see if there was any improvement.

Turning his attention back to the television, he told her, "Go ahead and get started."

"Yes, sir," Cock-socket replied.

She crawled forward between his legs as he spread them for the woman. Her fingers went to his belt and unbuckled it gracefully. She had improved. Next, the buttons and zippers of his trousers came apart in her expert fingers. Freeing him she moved so her face was inches away from his cock. Her delicate fingers wrapped around his girth, gently massaging him.

"You are so beautiful and big, sir." She said to his cock, as if whispering to a lover, "It will give me such pleasure to take you into my mouth and please you."

Leaning forward, she touched the tip with her lips. A sweet, gentle kiss for the single most important thing in her life at this moment. As she stroked him ever so lovingly, she moved her head closer, letting his tip smear across every inch of her face. He left wet trails of pre-cum on her as she continued taking her time with him.

Another kiss was placed on the hardening tip. She gripped him a little more vigorously now, stroking him to hardness. Pursing her lips she sucked daintily, then rubbed him across her mouth. With both hands, she worked him almost in prayer.

Parting her mouth, she sucked him in. She had to open wide to accommodate him, pushing him inside her in only small increments. His size was an issue, primarily due to his stoutness. Finally, she pushed down on him, filling her entire mouth. She was unable to get his whole length in, so he put a hand on the back of her head and shoved her down.

It didn't take long for the slave to choke, but this time she did not retreat from her duty. With her body twitching and her throat trying to spit him out, she gripped his prick and tried pushing more of him into her. He was simply too wide for her throat. As she struggled, he wound his thick fingers in her blonde hair and pulled her off of him.

"Still too thick for that cock holster?" he asked.

"No, sir. I can take it all."

"Missouri." He said as she looked up in confusion. He then pushed her face back into his crotch.

This time, he was not gentle. He had needs, and even though she was trying, it didn't help with her training to pretend he would use her as anything more than a tool to empty his balls. Taking another long sip, he re-positioned his hand, grasping the entire back of her skull, and began masturbating with her.

Looking back at the news, a hysterical newscaster hyperventilated about Thorne's latest media gaffe. He apparently called a reporter a "dumb broad," which, while probably true, Tom thought was not the best way to convince the hysterical half of the voters to support him. Things were so much easier without women voting on their feelings and whims, fucking everything up. As he sipped his Old-fashioned, he absentmindedly shoved Cock-socket's head onto his rigid prick, face fucking the slave impulsively. Tom hated that Evelyn's plan revolved around the clown on screen... but if it paid off...

When the slave convulsed and spat up in his crotch, Tom threw her back, repulsed.

"Evelyn!" he called out as Cock-socket sputtered for air, looking ashamed and miserable.

Evelyn appeared naked, wearing nothing but her collar and the heels locked to her ankles. Clicking across the tiled floor, she approached, "Yes, Sir?"

"Look what this nasty cunt has done. I thought you were training her."

"My apologies, sir. Obviously not well enough."

"Get it cleaned up." He said in a voice like gravel.

Evelyn stepped to Cock-socket and grabbed a fistful of blonde hair. She dragged the slave back into Tom's lap and demanded, "Look at this, you cow. Clean it up."

"I need a washcloth..." the kneeling slave tried to say, but Evelyn cut her off.

"You made this mess you nasty bitch, quit whining and use that mouth for what it was made for." She said, shoving the slave's face back into his parted thighs. To Tom, she continued, "I do have some good news, sir. Preparations are mostly complete, and we can begin soon."

"You gathered a harem?" Tom said watching as Cock-socket began sucking him again.

"Mostly. We still need a slave off the books. Vargas is letting Cock-socket go on our expedition, even though I don't know how useful she'll be. A few other councilors have donated spare slaves to the cause. Girls, they're tired of obviously."

"Vargas is pissed I fucked his toy? Doesn't seem like him."

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think. He's got a new slave, and this one is now on the outs."

"Damn," Tom said. "So, this cock sucker is registered?"

"Afraid so. She would have been perfect... she was a model before coming to the Island."

"Hmm, I really thought Vargas just snatched her."

"So did I. She volunteered for this. Hope the money is worth it. I guess being a high-class whore didn't adequately prepare her for life on the Island. Did it, Beverly?" Evelyn said, her fingers were still in the slave's hair, guiding her over Tom's cock and choking the woman with occasional thrust down to impale her.

"I was a model, not a..." Cock-socket started to say.

Evelyn slapped the girl. "Answer the question I asked."

"No, miss." Cock-socket sputtered.

"You'd think she'd be better sucking cock..." Tom mused.

"Girls in the States are soft. Desperately in need of training." Evelyn said, thrusting the slave back onto Tom's prick. "Here's to hoping we can change that... for all of them..."

*****

Evan groaned as Violet massaged him in her mouth. He was torn by equally conflicting desires, to blow his load in the cheerleader's mouth immediately, and to make her continue sucking him as long as possible.

He grabbed a fistful of her long blonde hair. It had been braided at cheer practice, but now it was fanned out across his lap as her head bobbed in front of the steering wheel. He pushed her down forcefully, relishing the pained moan she made as he forced her nose into his belly. He was so close that he couldn't help but thrust his hips up at her, stabbing his prick deep against the back of her throat.

She didn't resist. Anything. He tightened his fist in her hair and started jacking off in her throat, enjoying the sensations and gagging noises. Violet made no effort to resist. She'd become an amazing cock-sucker in the last few months, eager to learn, eager to please.

Getting too close to slipping over the edge he pulled the eighteen-year-old off his cock, then slid it across her cheek to shove her down again. She'd been trained to know exactly what he wanted, and lapped at a hairy nut with her tongue. Once she'd slicked it up, she sucked the ball gently while humming in delight.

Even though he'd stopped the climax that she'd nearly sucked out of him, her purring didn't give him any relief. He snatched her hand off his thigh and guided it to his cock slick with her spit. He demanded, "Stroke."

When her fingers wrapped around his shaft Evan knew he couldn't hold back any longer, His fists tightened gripping handfuls of blonde hair as he shoved his cock across her face. She knew to tighten her thumb and forefinger around his base, driving him over the edge. He managed to bark out a single word, "Open!"

Violet stroked him with her hand and opened her mouth, her wide blue eyes looking up at him from her slick, pretty face.

"Fuck..." he groaned and he felt his balls tighten painfully. When he spurted the first shot of jizz across her face it felt like the tip of his cock, the piddle hole itself was on fire, too eager to empty his balls across her willing and accepting face. She thrust her tongue out, smiling around it, wanting to catch everything. His groans turned into a stifled yell as he blasted spurt after spurt across her face and into her open mouth.

When he finally threw his head back, shaken by the intensity of his climax, her mouth sucked his cock deep into her warm wet hole. "Fuck..." was all he could mutter as she worked his cock sucking it inside out to get every drop.

Breath shaking, he told her, "Good girl..."

That seemed to egg her on. The suction and intensity of her mouth increased, and she pumped him with her tiny fist harder. He shuddered, his cock on fire, deflating despite her expert care. He could hear her hand pumping wetly and feel the slimy mess of her spit and his cum dribbling down his shaft.

Violet didn't stop. She rubbed what was left of his erection across her face, smearing his spunk across her. She then lapped at him, trying to clean up every drop of their passion.

When Evan pushed her away, she continued holding his prick, clenching her fist around it and releasing to continue giving him pulses of overwhelming pleasure. He muttered again, "Good fucking girl."

"When?" she asked. Her tongue darted out to clean her lips. His taste was strong, bitter, but it was his. She'd been indifferent to the fumbling fast blasts from other boys she'd dated, but Evan's cum was different. She relished it. Loved it in her mouth, on her face, got a secret thrill trying to clean it off her cheer uniform.

"Friday," he said, and she squealed.

Lost in her excitement, she threw her arms around him and kissed him hard, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth even though that was something he had explained several times that he didn't care for. She squeezed him as hard as possible, trying to crush the air out of him.

"Ugh!" he grunted, shoving her away, back to the passenger seat. He wiped an arm across his mouth, spitting and trying to get the taste of himself out. "Nasty."

She sat back in her seat, giddy with anticipation and not caring that he'd shoved her away. Closing her eyes, she felt his spunk on her face, knew it was tangible proof of his feelings for her. Even though he was married, he gave her his seed. She touched the cooling jizz.

"No," he said. "Don't clean it off. You were a bad girl, and you can clean it off when you get home."

Violet opened her eyes in horror and looked at him. "But... my parents..."

He laughed, "You're eighteen, an adult. Tell them you blew a guy."

The thought of doing what he said both horrified her and made her feel wicked. She wasn't a girl. Her body was hers to do with as she pleased, including pleasing herself. Her mother would die if she knew. Her stepfather would probably yell.

"I'm serious," Evan said. "You don't wipe that off until you are in your room at home."

"Yes, master." She said, feeling something deeply wicked tickle way down inside her. Honestly, she relished the gauntlet tasks he gave her. Going to school in a skirt without panties, getting selfies of her masturbating in a public bathroom, it all made her feel totally in control of her sex, even though they were tasks he'd ordered her to perform. And always with proof, with videos and pictures. When she blew him as he looked at the images she'd captured of herself, it simply turned her horny up to eleven.

She was unable to focus on how she would get through her house without anyone noticing the sticky mess on her face. All she could think about was Friday. He would fuck her Friday. She'd had sex with two others. Like other girls her age, she'd rushed to find out what the big deal was, only to be disappointed with the fumbling and quick messes. With Evan, she knew it would be different; he could control himself, and he had experience. He'd brought her to many climaxes with just his lips. The thought of him inside her, making her feel owned, was intoxicating.

She wanted to see him shudder in pure bliss just as he'd done now, but buried in her, giving herself entirely to him. She wanted to be his.

*****

Tom could have left the half-finished cocktail at the work desk, but things belonged in their proper places. He held it out to his side and said, "Fetch."

Cock-socket scrambled to her feet and rushed to him. She cupped her hands under the drink to ensure she didn't try to pull it from his hand. He let go, and she wrapped her fingers around it, afraid it might tumble to the floor as others had in the past. She'd gone a few days now without the lash and wanted to avoid anything that would warrant punishment.

Her previous owner punished her casually for any reason, real or imagined. She'd lived in constant fear with him. Here with Tom, the rules were clear, and punishment never came because he wanted to hear her cry, only when she'd failed her many duties.

With a bow, she turned and took the glass to the kitchen, where she rinsed it quickly and placed it in the dishwasher.

"He's going to bed," she said to Evelyn, who sat naked at the dining bar working on a laptop. "I think."

Evelyn looked up and snapped the laptop shut. "A good slave doesn't think. She anticipates need. What does he need?"

"He's finished his drink and is likely going to bed," Beverly said as she walked to the kitchen's doorframe.

"That's not what I asked," Evelyn stated.

"If he's going to bed, I need to be there to undress him and attend to any needs before sleep."

"And if he's not?"

"Then I need to undress him, aid in his shower, and attend to any needs."

"And so?" Evelyn asked, getting impatient. Slavery hadn't been intellectually difficult for her. She couldn't understand why young women were so terrible at it, too wrapped up in themselves, especially the girls from the States. They'd all been brought up to think only of themselves, that they were the most important things in the world. Getting their minds to wrap around the concept of serving others was at times a daunting task.

"I need to be nearby to attend to needs."

"Bravo," Evelyn said with some sarcasm. "And what needs are those?"

Beverly had been a slave on the island for several months now and still clung to her modesty and false decency. "Use of my mouth... sex... my body..."

"Use the words I told you."

"Use my fuck-holes. Any of my fuck-holes."

"Exactly," Evelyn said. "Well? Can he use your fuck-holes while he's in another room?"

"No, miss," Beverly said, fleeing.

Tom was no longer in his den at the work computer. Panic gripped Beverly, and she rushed through the penthouse to his bedroom. Inside, he had just finished removing his shirt and dropped it to the floor. Beverly was crestfallen. Her most important task at the end of the day was to undress and please him. She rushed, bending to scoop up his shirt, folding it quickly.

"Five lashes tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir." She said, feeling ill. At least the lashings in this home were done with a belt, not a cane. It was a small solace.

Beverly hurried to set the shirt on a dresser and quickly moved back to Tom. His size always made her feel tiny. His chest and arms were massive, muscled, and hairy. What little she knew of what he did involved the island's military. She'd heard he was responsible for the coup that led to the military junta that controlled this island. His size and the hinted power he wielded made her feel tiny, a mouse in the presence of a mountain.

Darting around him, her hands went to his belt. She'd become an expert at unbuckling men. It was a skill every slave was expected to know. She wasn't even embarrassed by it now, just glad that she was skilled enough that it no longer earned his lashes. As he stretched his arms overhead, she guided his pants down thick, muscled legs. His thighs were nearly as wide as she was. And his cock... the monster never failed to make her breath catch. Or blush when she realized she'd taken it inside her.

She knelt to guide his pants down to his ankles, and he stepped out of them. Lifting her face, she opened her mouth, eyes wide and staring at the sea serpent dangling in front of her. His cock brushed across her forehead, and she could feel its girthy weight, but he didn't press it to her mouth. When he walked away, she stood folding the pants quickly and setting them with his shirt.

He stopped next to the bed and wound his watch. This was a ritual he did before crawling into bed every single night. Her services in this task were not required, so she moved up behind him and then pulled the bed covers back. He turned and sat on the bed suddenly.

Sitting on the bed, his eyes were level with Beverly's. She looked down quickly as was expected. A massive hand came up to her face, collecting her by the chin. She was forced to look at him as he studied her.

"You were a model in the States?"

"Yes, sir," she said, trying to focus on only what was asked and not offer rambling info or explanations that would earn more lashes.

"How old?"

"Twenty-two, sir."

"You're skinny. And small."

Unsure what to say, Beverly offered a halting, "Thank you, sir."

The clicking of heels on tile came from the hallway outside the bedroom. Evelyn entered the room, moved to the foot of the bed, placed a decorative end pillow on the floor, and knelt with her hands on parted thighs.

"Her ID?" Tom asked Evelyn.

"Will be finished tomorrow," Evelyn responded.

"She's in her twenties, does that work?" Tom said lying back in bed and pulling Bev in between his knees.

"She doesn't look it. The Isle is issuing her new ID to replace her driver's license from the States. The info on it won't be entirely truthful. However, she was still registered when brought here, so there are factual records. We've adjusted everything according to plan. We still need a girl off the books."

"Evan's working on it," Tom said as he guided Beverly's mouth to his cock. She opened as wide as possible, but it still took some effort to get anything more than the tip past her lips. Tom helped by shoving her down hard against him.

"We need her yesterday."

"Couple of months," Tom said. His attention was on Beverly, trying to control her mouth and irritated that no matter how much practice she got, there were still too many teeth. "Will that work?"

"It's going to have to. How soon will she be ready? And when do we leave?"

Tom grunted and pulled Beverly's face off him. He gave her a light slap which still shook the girl's entire body. "Turn around," he demanded.

Beverly spun in place on her knees. When Tom gripped her hips, she knew to scoot her legs so she was straddling him. He shoved himself up against her, and she reached back to guide him in. The difference in sizes made it nearly impossible for him to thrust in hands-free. So far, Beverly had needed to hold his shaft in place to find her entry every time. She grunted as he forced his way in.

"Evan's pussyfooting around. He says it'll take months, but if we show up, he'll cave."

"So, we leave soon then?" Evelyn asked.

Beverly cried out as Tom sank into her, filling her to the very core. Her whole face twisted in pain as he seated himself fully inside her. Gripping her tightly he began rocking the smaller woman across his cock.

"As soon as we have Cock-socket's doctored ID."

"We leave tomorrow night, then?" Evelyn replied.

"Flight plan is already being set."

Tom began using his slave to get himself off. His grip tightened and he used her body like a cum rag to jerk off. Beverly grunted with each shove, her cries filling the room. Being used as nothing more than a rag, she relaxed, letting her body go limp as Tom drove into her. Opening her eyes, she saw Evelyn watching them.

Evelyn remained in her pose, kneeling on a pillow, legs spread lewdly. Her expression was purely clinical, with no trace of emotion. One hand remained on her thigh, the other had drifted down to her core, stroking herself softly as she watched Beverly being used like meat. The younger slave's high-pitched sighs came uncontrollably as Tom hammered her against him.

"Cum, you dirty little cunt," Evelyn whispered from the foot of the bed.

To her undying shame, Beverly did precisely that.

*****

When Violet entered the hotel room, Evan swept her into his arms. The kiss was crushing and hungry, sucking the air from her lungs. She wanted to melt away into nothing as he consumed her, his hands squeezing her body against his.

He broke the kiss, and she struggled to draw breath. he barked at her, "Kneel."

Still dizzy, she tried to kneel down, but he pulled her suddenly by the hand into the hotel room, pushing her towards a bed. "No, at the foot of the bed."

Embarrassment flushed through her. Of course, he wanted her to kneel inside the room and not at the door. She felt small in ways that rarely happened in school. He'd given her a command, and in her eagerness to carry it out, she hadn't been thinking. She strode to the bed and turned to look back at him.

He was right behind her, dropping his duffel bag and sweeping her in his arms again. Their lips smashed into each other, and he bent her back in his eagerness to have her. His hands explored her backside, roughly tracing the shape of her spine and cupping ass cheeks. Again, she felt her head swim at the suddenness of the unadulterated passion, making her dizzy with anticipation. Evan had gotten a hotel room for them. She would give herself to him fully.

The door slammed shut by itself very far away. Violet was anxious to please Evan, but a trickle of nerves gnawed at her core. What if... like the other times she'd had sex, it turned out to be less than she was expecting.

She'd only been with two others. Her first was a clumsy, messy affair in the backseat of a car. Both fumbling and overeager, wanting to lose their virginity in a rush. It had hurt, been awkward, and left her wondering what all the fuss was about. Of course, he then told others at school, and she'd gotten a reputation. There'd been no repeat performance with him.

Her next was only barely better. Months of dating, with constant pressure. Violet had been torn between asking her mother for advice and proving she was adult enough to make decisions on her own. In the end, she relented. Sex had been in his room on a proper bed, but no less awkward and fumbling. He'd only been interested in himself, and after a few minutes each time he was done. It had only been a handful of times, but each left Violet feeling used and unsatisfied.

She knew from occasional masturbation that sex could be mind-blowing, but so far, the real thing had been very one-sided. If the same happened with Evan, she'd be crushed. Not to mention that the act of self-pleasure always left her feeling as if something was missing, someone to share with. She'd focused instead on school and cheerleading, ignoring the others who whispered and knowing in her own mind that she wasn't just some random floozy. No matter what the others said.

One thing was certain, though. The rumors would explode if anyone found out she was fooling around with the coach's husband, a man twice her age. The scarlet letter she'd received made the entire thing all that much more exciting. Everyone thought she was easy, if only they knew the real story.

"Kneel," Evan said again firmly. And this wrinkle made it all that much more delicious. Not only did she relish that he knew how to take charge, but it was so wickedly deviant, him tying her up, public blow jobs in his car, her calling him master like the slave girls in those tawdry books. If only, if only, they all knew just how depraved she really was.

Violet fell to her knees, looking up at him. He stood over her judging, his eyes on her. Not just her face, but she could feel his gaze sweeping over everything. She breathed in, letting her chest expand, knowing he was looking, wanting him to. Her hands drifted behind her back, knowing it would push her chest out even more.

"Well? What would you like to do, master?" she teased, batting her eyes at him. She wanted to be cute and sassy for him. She wanted to get under his skin. She wanted him to lose control and take her. She wanted him to make her climax with him. And feared secretly it might end just like every other coupling.

Evan stared down at her. His brown eyes were not on her face. His gaze continued wandering across her, touching her parted legs, crawling up her inner thighs, frustrated at the cheer skirt covering what he most wanted to see, touching her breasts, still also concealed and crushed under her tight top. She loved how hungry he looked. She wanted to make him want her even more.

"Do I please you?" She stole a line from one of the slaves in those books. A harmless tease as she jiggled her chest just a little. The tease was fun and playful; she knew he could have anything he wanted, but she wanted to see him sweat just a little for it.

He stared at her, a little too long without answering. Violet had imagined he would have a witty reply, something equally teasing or playful. Instead, he looked like a kid in a candy shop trying to decide where to start. The moment lingered on a bit too long, and Violet began to panic.

"What's in the bag? Something for me?" she asked, hoping to get things back on track.

"Right," he said, breaking out of his reverie. She hoped it wasn't guilt over his wife. She wanted him here and present with her. He scooped up the duffel bag and stepped past her to the bed.

When she turned to watch what he was doing, he told her, "Eyes front, slavegirl."

Violet turned back, looking ahead of her at a door connecting to another hotel room. Briefly, she wondered if anyone was in it, and what they might hear in the next hour. Evan rummaged in the duffle bag; she heard small metallic clinks and the rustle of fabric. Something about being called his slavegirl made her squirm.

Suddenly, he was directly behind her, slipping a silky blindfold over her eyes. Instinctively, she drew her hands from behind her, reaching up to touch it.

"Hands behind your back!" he said as he pulled the blindfold tight, forcing her to lean back into his legs.

She complied, stuffing her hands between her back and his legs. She whined, "But... I wanted..."

Evan jerked her head back and leaned down. She couldn't see him, but could feel his breath hot against her ear. "You are a slave. Your only concern is my wants. Not yours." He gave the blindfold an extra jerk as he velcroed it in place. "Do you understand?"

She nodded in his grip. This was a massive departure from boys her age, who typically asked politely at every step. 'Can I hug you? Will you kiss me? Can I take your shirt off?' Evan was telling her what he wanted. It was exhilarating to be with someone who took charge and demanded that she follow. She kept nodding, trying to rub her head against him as he leaned down into her.

"Do you?" he demanded.

"Yes..." she whimpered back. Her body was on fire, and she wanted to feel his hands on it. All she could do was squirm and beg him. "I wanted to see you, though..."

The slap was sudden and unexpected. It stung, but she knew he could have hit her with much more force. This was a little warning, a love tap. It still made her gasp.

"What is it you like about the slave girls in those silly fantasy books?" Evan asked.

All Violet could think of was that they were taken care of. Their masters, strong men quick to force and violence, treated their girls not as equals, but as cherished pets. They provided everything for their slaves, but most importantly, they fucked their slaves without apology. The women in the books had orgasms that Violet could only dream of. She was too awkward in her own body to make it happen herself. She knew that a man like the ones in the books would force it out of her, take ownership, claim her, run their hands on her, and make her scream out in the night like those lucky slaves. She wanted that so badly. Wanted to surrender her body to a climax like that.

She whispered, "They are taken care of in every way."

"And that's what you want? That's why you're here right now?"

Violet squirmed. Admitting these things aloud was humiliating. He knew she was talking about getting properly fucked. That made her core burst in a wave of heat. She wanted so badly to touch herself, but she'd been told to keep her hands behind her back. She shifted her hips instead, trying to rub herself in any way she could. "Yes."

"Then do as you're told slavegirl," Evan whispered in reply. His breath tickled down the back of her neck, making her squirm even more.

"Yes, master." She begged, wanting to demand he touch her, wanting to beg for climax right then.

How she loathed those boys begging. Yet, here she was wanting to do the same. It was confusing, she felt as if she ought to loath herself, but being at a man's mercy felt somehow so right. Men shouldn't beg... but her? In the dark of the blindfold, everything was a whirling, confusing jumble in her head.

She noticed that Evan had stepped away while she was sorting things out. She noticed when he returned right behind her. She could feel him looming over her, kneeling down, and then she felt something encircle her wrist. As her breath hitched, she could feel Evan tighten a cool leather band then work at it. The creak of leather was a sound she'd never forget.

He then pulled her bound hand backward, and she felt him do the same to her ankle. She pulled without thinking.

"No," he commanded, "stay still."

Violet froze awkwardly; her arm pulled back like this was unnatural. As she knelt, processing the feeling of her wrist being strapped fast to her ankle, Evan shifted and did the same to her other hand.

Kneeling back released pressure on the wrists and ankles, but Violet realized any movement would be a struggle. She might be able to do a duck walk, bent deeply, if she could get to her feet, but she was completely hobbled and at Evan's mercy.

Worse still, she was dressed. She'd imagined them naked and free, lying together in post-coital bliss. That was impossible, trussed up as she was. It was maddening and unfair... but not her choice. The more freedom she lost, the more she squirmed. She hated how, throughout her life, teachers had told her the opposite; she hated how fragments of these thoughts still haunted her. Being helpless excited her even more than being asked. But how in the world were they going to have sex? It was the sole reason for the hotel room.

"That's better," he pressed his legs to her back and leaned over her. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but the restraints allowed no movement.

After a quick kiss, he walked away from her. Not back to the bed, but around her. She could only imagine his look as his gaze swept across his bound slave. Squirming, she rolled her shoulders back, hoping he was enjoying the display she was putting on as she swayed her breasts. She noticed that her breathing was ragged, and it was hard to draw in smooth breaths.

"Now that is what a slave girl should look like. Kneeling, bound, ready for use."

The mention of use made heat flush through her. Use as in fucking. She was ready. He knew it. No fumbling around. No asking for permission. He was going to take her. The heated thoughts like that produced were unbearable. She borrowed a line from the cheesy novels.

"Please, master. Give a poor slave girl some relief."

Evan chuckled in front of her somewhere. "Looks like the blindfold is working."

"Yes, master, I can't see anything."

She heard and felt him approach, "That's not it. Blind all your other senses are in overdrive."

It was true. She could feel where he was in the room without even hearing him. Her other senses were hyper heightened. The leather on her wrist, the tight constricting cheer uniform, even the carpet burning her knees. Every little thing made her melt inside. One touch and she might just climax from it alone.

Then his hands were in her hair. She gasped, and his lips crushed hers. This was no timid kiss asking permission. She was his, and he was taking her. Violet was instantly swept up in a swirling tsunami of feelings. His tongue invaded her mouth, claiming her, as his hands went to her breasts, back, and thighs. He smothered her in sensations. Somehow, she ended up leaning back against the bed as he touched her everywhere. Her uniform maddeningly muted everything; she wanted to be naked, to feel his hot, burning flesh on hers. She couldn't even beg, he continued sucking the air from her.

When she was dazed and dizzy from the cacophony of overwhelming sensation, he lifted her. She floated through the air, lost in a haze of heat and desire. She landed on the bed and tried to rest her legs, but they were bound to her wrists. She realized she was in the perfect position for him to enter her, legs spread, knees bent invitingly open. He was brilliant to have done this to her.

"Please..." she begged.

His lips crushed hers again as one of his hands reached down between her legs. She could only groan into his mouth as he pressed his fingers against her through the cheer bloomers. She moaned in desperation, begging him to touch her there, to rip the panties off and press flesh to her.

He seemed to have understood, his fingers traced upwards and forced their way inside. She felt his digits press through a small patch of hair, combing it and making her cry out. Then he cupped her, pressing his fingers hard up under her, making her body shift. So close, she thought, she wanted to feel him in her. Not just fingers and tongue as they had done a million times but wanted to finally feel his beautiful cock buried in her. She wanted to gift herself to him, this man who took what he wanted and knew his way around a woman's body.

The kiss broke suddenly, and Evan moved off the bed. She winced but could hear him tearing off his clothes. What about hers? She wanted to be naked, wanted to see his eyes devouring her. In the darkness, she could only imagine him doing so, but it felt cold and lonely. She wanted him on her again, warming her up.

The bed shifted as he climbed back on next to her. His hands gripped her knees and pulled them apart. She felt his palm sliding up her outer thighs all the way to her ass. She rolled her hips, hoping he was looking at her. His fingers curled into the tops of the bloomers. Without waiting for a command she lifted her hips, yes, yes, she wanted him to look at her cunt, wanted him to be hungry for her, wanted him to need her.

Her panties flew down her legs. Evan yanked them down to her ankles, where they caught on the leather cuffs. No! She cried out in her head. She was too bound up. Now she couldn't move her ankles or wrists apart from each other. This complicated things, yanking her out of the smoldering heat her mind had been stoking.

Evan simply grabbed the Lycra bloomers and shoved them forward, bending Violet in half. The shock of being folded like this stunned her. No boy had ever been so rough. She couldn't imagine how she must look, face hidden, half clothed in her uniform, her skirt flipped up, and now her legs pushed up lewdly exposing her cunt. It wasn't how she'd imagined her first time with Evan. It wasn't sexy. It was primal and rough, and that made it even hotter.

She tried to reach with her hands to feel Evan holding her ankles up in the air. He twisted the bloomers, tightening them around her ankles, then she felt him lean forward against her legs. His body was burning hot, hairy, and masculine. There was no gentleness, and that thrilled her.

He leaned down, and she felt his stiff prick pressed against her inner thigh, naturally flowing into the valley between them. When he shifted and she felt his cock rub across her pussy lips she moaned. So close...

Her hands found his wrist. She had to strain against the binds to grip him as he held her bloomer, which in turn kept her shackled wrists and ankles together up around her ears. She squeezed him, sighing to let him know she wanted him. A turn of her hips against him, forcing her pussy across his willing flesh got a return groan from him.

Violet considered what he'd said. Her purpose was to please him. She'd wanted their first time to be a certain way, romantic, gentle touching, movie-type stuff she'd grown up on. Instead, he'd bound and blindfolded her. It wasn't how she'd imagined, it wasn't what she'd asked for, but losing those choices made it so much more intense. What if he was right? Instead of her wanting him to do things to her, to sweep her away, what if she worked to please him?

She felt his cock, rock hard pressed against her. Her natural inclination was to simply lie there and let him have her, like a prize. Instead, she decided to do as he told her, to please him. Just feeling his cock there, she could picture it perfectly in her mind, nestled against her lips. She rolled her hips, rubbing her pussy against him. In her mind, she could see it perfectly. The cock she'd blown so many times, given so many hand jobs too, she could see every inch of it, every vein pulsing. She pushed herself against him, rocking her hips as if she were trying to give him a hand job with her lips.

He groaned long and loud. His noise only made her want more. She began sliding against him, surprised at how slick and easy it was. She was fucking him, but in a way that gave herself to him even though he wasn't inside her. She wanted him to cum on her, to spray it not in her mouth or palm, but across her pussy and belly, to feel his love for her. She continued rocking against him, working hard to get him off, as was proper for a slave.

"Fuck!" he cried out.

In another place, Violet might have been proud. Right now, she was too focused on trying to get him to cum. She wanted to please, wanted to prove she was a good girl, wanted this to be different from every other sexual liaison she'd had. She ground against him, blind, and feeling nothing but his slippery hard cock rubbing against her. A wave of heat pulsed through her, and even though she wanted this to be about him, she could feel a pressure building up in the pit of her. She fought against herself, trying to focus only on him.

"Fuck, you are such a good girl," he hissed. Shoving forward, he shifted his hips.

Violet felt his cockhead catch on her and there was a singular moment where she knew he was about to enter her. This is what she'd wanted. To share herself with him. To be his. And yet, for a moment, she was afraid. What if this ended in the same disappointment?

Evan slammed forward, filling Violet. In the blackness, her eyes went wide, and she gasped loudly. Evan grunted and thrust again, filling her in a single shove. He cried out with pleasure.

She was numbed, stretched, filled, and split in two. It was painful, but in such a good way. Her eyes rolled behind the mask as her hands gripped his wrist, begging for more.

Grunting loudly, letting her hear how good she felt wrapped around him, Evan pounded in and out of her. He hammered away with merciless force, taking what he'd wanted for a long time.

Bent over and sighing loudly herself, Violet tried to make sense of all the sensations flooding her body. The pain vanished quickly, and the pressure continued to build. She felt Evan's glorious cock pounding away inside her, making her cry out and gasp with each thrust.

At some point, she remembered she was supposed to be pleasing him. Forcing herself to think through the haze of pleasure she rolled her hips, imagining herself jacking him off with her cunt. She knew what he liked with her hands and mouth, was this so different?

Evan groaned when she pushed against him. It was so loud and ecstatic that Violet felt pride, proud that she could elicit such a sound from a real man. She worked her cunt against him, trying so hard not to lose herself in her own pleasure. She was a slavegirl and her master came first. This thought was singular on her mind in the darkness. She was there for him.

His groans became a chorus, every thrust punctuated with a cry for and to her. She worked herself against him, trying to match the tempo of her oral service. As an experiment, she wriggled, trying to squeeze a grunt from him.

He hammered into her, battering her as she lay bound, folded in half. The muscles in her legs ached, but the ache inside her was exquisite. Their cries mixed together resounded loudly in the hotel room.

"Don't you dare cum." Evan hissed at her.

The words made no sense. She wanted him to cum not her. His saying it, however, made her suddenly aware of the heat building up inside her core. She knew she was close, but as he'd told her earlier, she was here to please him. Her climax was secondary, but his words brought her hunger to the forefront. Now she had to fight to keep it from happening.

He pounded away, grunting loudly. Each noise made Violet proud, each one a confession of his need for her, his pleasure in her. She twisted her hips and rocked back against him, continuing to masturbate him inside her as he slammed away.

Suddenly, he froze, buried deep inside her. Violet knew from other encounters that he was about to cum. She'd pleased him. Grinding her cunt over him she continued milking him, squeezing each time she drew back as she'd done so many times when using her hand.

He yelled and she felt his cock pulsing as he began pushing into her again. A long, low groan announced his actual climax, as did the sudden sloshing noises that filled the room. Everything became slicker and slipperier down below. Fucking her slowly he emptied himself while she basked in the glow of knowing she'd been pleasing and had been able to fight off her own building pressure and heat to take care of him.

Smiling inside, she relaxed knowing she had pleased him. When cum dribbled down her thigh to touch her asshole she lost it. It was so lewd and depraved, the final sensation that drove her over the edge. She heard him bark, "Cum."

The words meant nothing. She was in her own space, apart from reality. Her body drove on without her, clutching at Evan as he slowed inside her. The scream she released seemed as if it were from another person. Her body thrashed as Violet left the world for a moment, consumed by a lightning storm of pain and pleasure entwined and overwhelming.

When she returned, Evan was still pumping into her languidly, relishing the feel of her wrapped so tightly around him. That's what she imagined, and it made her feel warm to her core. She was still making little gasps as he plunged into her.

Finally, with an excruciating moan, he withdrew. Violet gasped in shock, surprised by how empty she felt without him inside her. His jizz flowed out of her in a river of slimy spunk. She had a sudden urge to taste it, wondering what his lovely bitterness would taste like mixed with her own juices. More than that, though, she wanted to throw her arms around him and pull him close.

He rolled off of her, and her legs sank down into the bed, or tried to, still bound and bent, attached to her wrists. The mess between her thighs was sticky and gross, but it was her badge of pleasing him, and so she relished in the oozing creep of it. Evan collapsed next to her, panting. She wanted him to touch her, but said nothing; she was there for his pleasure, not to make demands. Still, she felt oddly abandoned.

Finally, he rolled and threw an arm around her. His lips whispered in her ear, "Good girl."

Violet pressed her face to his blindly; that was all she ever wanted to hear.

*****

Cocksocket curtseyed deeply, displaying what meager cleavage she had in the scanty French maid outfit. She leaned in with the tray of drinks and saw Senator Holgate looking down into her valley of flesh.

"A drink, sir?" she asked demurely.

"Why, who on earth could resist such delightful charms?" Holgate drawled, as he took a tumbler of dark, brooding scotch that had aged longer than the girl serving it had been alive. His gaze lingered on her cleavage. She smiled and knelt in front of him.

Holgate took a long sip and leaned back in the deep sapphire velvet couch. He looked as though contemplating the taste of the drink, but his eyes remained on her as she went down to the carpeted floor, spreading her knees. She watched his gaze crawl down to her thighs and knew that in this position, the skirt would be pulled up, almost showing off that she wore nothing beneath it, but still hiding her just barely.

The senator's eyes narrowed as he watched her. "You came here with Tom, did you?"

Her gaze was on Holgate's feet. His thin dress socks had fallen, showing off flabby ankles. The thought of this corpulent being naked made her anxious.

"Yes, sir. I'm from Isla Serena," she lied. "I'm his personal servant and dedicated aide."

Holgate laughed, the guttural sounds snorted out through the thick throat with a rubbery vibration. "Personal aide? Is that what they call it these days?" He licked his purple lips and leaned forward. "Is it true what they say about The Isle?"

"What might that be, sir?"

"That slavery there never ended. That the women there are..."

Cocksocket, she'd once been named Beverly, closed her eyes in shame. She didn't want to answer, but knew she must. "It's true, sir. Women on Isla Serena are slaves. A cultural custom maintained since the seventeenth century."

"Are you saying, you've been a slave your whole life, girl?"

Beverly, she chastised herself, she had to stop thinking of herself as that, swallowed and forced herself to continue with the lie. "Yes, sir. I am a slave. As are all my sisters on Isla Serena."

"Dang! Are you for real or just joshing me for fun?"

Panicked, she shot back, "No, sir. I would never mislead, or mercy forbid, make fun of a free man. I was born to serve."

"You don't look colored to me at all. I get that it's a... how to say... historic institution, but I am quite surprised that a woman of your... fair disposition and those like you would be considered... stock and trade."

"I'm not so great at the history, sir. My talents lie in other things... But at one time, the Isle was a haven for pirates. Many brought captured booty..."

Holgate laughed sharply, "Captured booty... I declare, girl, you are making this up."

Worried, she tried to get her script back on course. She had no idea how much of it was true, but knew that any significant deviation from what she was told to explain would result in a long night of lashes. It was bad enough when Tom meted out punishment, but Evelyn took an unhealthy delight in it. "I swear, sir. Pirates were the first inhabitants, and they brought with them women captured in their raids. Color didn't matter, only that their crews were happy. There were attempts to stop it when the Spanish and British ruled, but after a few generations, it remained a custom that never quite went away.

"And that fucker Tom and his like brought it back, didn't they?" Holgate chuckled.

"No, sir. The Isle has always been this way. Tom could no more stop it than the entire British Empire could."

The senator licked his lips again and thought for a moment. "So, as a slave, you have to abide by anything a man tells you to do?"

"Yes, sir. I live only to serve my betters."

He laughed again. The sound was beginning to make Cocksocket wince each time she heard it. He continued, "And what would happen if I told you to lift that skirt just a smidge?"

Cocksocket was relieved, performing as a slave was much easier than remembering all the conversation possibilities she'd been drilled on. She turned her hands around on her knees, slid her fingers along her thighs, knowing the senator was watching, and gathered the hem of her short skirt. Dragging it up, she showed the senator her obedience and exactly what she was wearing underneath it, which happened to be nothing. With her knees spread as they were, her cunt was on full display for the man.

Holgate whistled, "I'll be damned. No, strike that, feminism be damned. We could sure use more girls like you here in the States, missy."

"Yes, sir," she said, still not looking up at him. Her time on the Isle had only been a few months, but she knew better than to refuse any man sex if demanded. The thought of fucking this massive beast made her ill, but the thought of the lashing with a leather belt, or worse, across bare skin made her bury any thoughts of choice. She was a slave, and a slave did as told. "If I may, sir... There are many of us on the Island who would be grateful to come to the States... even in our current condition."

"Your current condition? Of slavery?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. It's what I've known my whole life. I'd be thrilled to be in the richest country in the whole world, on the arms of wealthy and important men, knowing my rightful place, knowing I complement my betters in the service I can provide." She felt only a little odd saying these things while still holding the skirt up. If nothing else, her time on the Island had taught her to forget any sense of modesty.

She hated the words she'd been told to say. She was American, even though her passport said otherwise. A friend of a friend had told her how much she could make on Isla Serena when her modeling gigs dried up. That it was kinky only made it that much more interesting. She'd never expected the men there to think she was an actual slave. It was all supposed to be a game. She wanted to leave, wanted to tell the senator it was all just an act, a massive game of make believe with these sick people, but if she did, she wouldn't get a dime. Payment only came if she lasted a full year.

When the modelling didn't work out, a photographer told her that she knew another way to make money. The woman had hooked Bev up with men who were willing to pay for an evening of her time. Bev who'd burned through men her entire dating life didn't see it as a big step to add another notch in her lipstick case. When someone told her about a way to make a million dollars, she figured playing kinky games for a year couldn't be that bad. She'd seen the videos from DomHouse online... she'd actually wondered what it would be like to be treated like that. Now that she knew, she counted the days... three quarters of the year to go. A million dollars.

"Well, now," Holgate said slowly. "Your betters? I tell you what, they sure do know how to bring girls up right over there."

Cocksocket moved forward on her knees, wrapping her hands around his leg and pulling herself into it. She ground herself against his shoe and whimpered, "Let me show you just how well."

Of course, it was humiliating to know, to feel how wet she was against him. The man was gross, old, flabby, and morbidly obese, but she'd been told to fuck him or she'd be punished severely. The thought of a belt across her back terrified her, and yet... something had changed in the last few months. At the end of every punishment, Evelyn was there to torture an orgasm out of her. Bev... Cocksocket could barely separate the two now. Spanking meant climax. Lashes on the back came with ecstasy. The thought of being punished for failure made her grind hard on the senator, made her want to get off on him just thinking about being whipped.

"Please, sir." She begged, grinding against him. "Take me..."

Holgate roared in laughter, "Oh, this is rich girl! I could have any intern I want, and you think I'd throw it away for some dumb native girl from a Caribbean shithole?"

The fear of a whipping made her grind on the senator harder, "No, sir. A man takes what he wants. I would never interfere with your needs. But I'd do anything to serve in the States..."

"I just know you would, slut." He slammed back the last of the whiskey. "But I've seen a honeypot before. Why don't you go fetch Tom now and let men talk?"

Before Beverly could answer, Tom strode into the sitting room. He snapped his fingers, "Bev, fetch me a drink."

Cocksocket leapt up and scurried to the bar on the far side of the room. The senator couldn't help but watch as the skirt failed to cover her bare ass completely.

"What are you trying to do here, Tom? Get me to take some foreigner girl on to my staff?"

"My apologies, Senator. The girl is young and... starry-eyed being in America." Tom dropped a briefcase on a nearby coffee table and took a seat in a chair near the senator. "A campaign contribution from the Isle."

"Come on, Tom," the senator smiled slyly, enjoying the cat and mouse game. Having women grovel because of his position was a given, but having powerful men grovel was a delight. "We just met, and you know full well that I support the president. He's intent on withdrawing the intelligence funding. No matter how many briefcases you bring me, I can't change this."

"Can't or won't?" Tom asked. His cold grey eyes watched the senator closely, looking for any tell, any sign, any twitch or give away that there might be disunion on this issue.

"A little of both, I suppose."

Bringing the drink back, Beverly couldn't help notice the vast difference in the two men. Both were probably the same age; she couldn't tell any more than that they were both old. Where the senator was flabby, soft, and expansive, Tom was broad, fit, and had sharp edges developed in years of being a soldier. The senator had power because people gave it to him. Tom sucked in power from the very air around him. There was no question that Tom could finish his drink while strangling the senator to death with his other hand.

She knelt and lifted the drink to Tom, who took it and rattled the huge ice-cubes inside the glass.

"Girl," Holgate said, holding out his empty tumbler.

Beverly scrambled up and over to the senator, taking his glass and turning to the bar. Tom caught her by the elbow, stopping her in her tracks.

"How long has our guest been dry?" Tom asked.

"My apologies, sir. Only a moment."

"Five lashes," Tom said, releasing Cocksocket's arm.

"Yes, sir." She said with a quick curtsey and moved quickly to the bar.

"You gonna belt that poor girl for letting a man go dry?" Holgate said with a leering smile.

Tom took a languid sip. "Discipline is the backbone of any team. Her job was to make you happy. She failed in that task. Let's just say, it probably won't happen again in the future."

"Whoowee. You boys don't know how good you have it down there on that island. What I wouldn't give to do the same to some of the cunts playing at senator here."

"We like to keep things traditional on the Isle," Tom said. "You know, I know you see lots of briefcases, maybe you'd rather have Bev instead?"

Holgate laughed, "Son, you sure do know how to bargain. The devil himself would give you his balls if you asked. But as they say in this here town, cash talks. I got interns aplenty who can relax a man proper. Besides, that commie bitch from Brooklyn would be up in my ass if she found out I had a sweet docile little thing from Isla Serena on my staff.

Tom nodded, "Well, I'd invite you to visit the Island, but I know you'll decline. Freedom of Information Act and all. What if, however, you were to come to a dinner the Isle is throwing? It won't be at the embassy. We're planning a more discreet location."

Beverly returned with the senator's neat scotch. She knelt and offered it to him. His eyes lingered on her small body and tiny maid outfit.

Watching the senator eye the girl, Tom continued, "In true fashion of the Isle, all the servers will be from Isla Serena. All very eager to make you happy... in every regard, as is island tradition."

Holgate took a long sip of his scotch, eyeing Tom cooly. Finally, he said, "I suppose there ain't any harm in a bit of dinner. Especially one served in the finest cultural tradition of your lovely Island." He took another swig. "I'm surprised, I thought you were going to try and hard sell opposing the president on this intelligence retreat. You all, stand to lose. What is it? A few billion dollars in CIA money?"

"We understand the President's position on the issue. And wouldn't insult you by asking you to publicly oppose him, given that he's promised to cut costs wherever he can. We still need friends in Washington. Serena is a tiny fish in a big pond. Castro may be gone, but the Cubans still hate us for spying. We just want... assurances we won't be forgotten."

The senator nodded sagely, "Well, I tell you what, Tom, one thing that won't be forgotten is the ass on this ripe peach here. If this little tart is gonna serve me dinner you can bet your sweet ass I'll be there. And don't you worry none, I'll always be on friendly relations with Isla Serena, no matter what them jackals in the press say."

"Thank you, Senator Holgate." Tom reached out to shake the senator's hand. "You sure you don't want a little taste of that island hospitality right now?"

"No sir! Your handshake with a little of that weight on the table is enough for now. I will admit to being right keen about that dinner, however.

Tom escorted the senator out of the suite. Handing the senator the briefcase as the other man left. The senator didn't refuse or acknowledge the handoff at all. By the time he returned to the sitting room, Evelyn was entering from the far suite of bedrooms.

"Did we get anything useful?" he asked.

Evelyn walked to Cocksocket, smoothed out the skirt of her pricy business suit, then settled in to kneel next to her sister slave. "He asked Bev to lift her skirt, didn't leave when she dry humped his leg, asked some questions of dubious taste, then acknowledged there was an exchange of money."

"All on video?" Tom picked up his glass and swirled the ice cubes.

"Most of it," Evelyn said. "He didn't take the money on camera. He's savvy enough that he won't deposit it anytime soon. It's not quite what we were looking for, but he did hint that he wanted to sample Beverly at the dinner."

Tom looked down at the two slaves. Evelyn was in an expensive business suit. It was all very modest, and she looked good in it, even in her advanced age. Cocksocket's skimpy maid outfit revealed entirely too much skin, and if she'd been more stacked, she would have revealed plenty of cleavage.

"Cocksocket," Tom barked, "up here."

"Yes, sir." Beverly said climbing up to her feet and moving her hands behind her back while looking down at the floor.

Grabbing her by the back of the neck, Tom walked her around the blue velvet chair, then thrust her over it. Bending quickly, she grabbed the armrests as her skirt rode up, revealing her bare ass. Tom unbuckled and stepped up behind her, still holding her by the neck, bent over.

"Do we have a smoking gun on Holgate?"

Evelyn shook her head, "I'm afraid not."

Gripping the slave's neck in a massive, calloused fist, Tom yanked the slave back against him, letting her feel his exposed cock on her bare ass. "You had a single job."

"I'm sorry, sir. I tried..." Cocksocket pleaded as Tom lined himself up against her.

"And what was your job?" Tom leaned his huge bulk over the woman to hiss at her.

"To do whatever it took to fuck the senator." She could feel the giant of the man pressing the tip of his cock against her. She thought of the lashes she'd receive, and fear coursed through her. Worse still, it made a pulse of heat flash through her. She knew she'd be belted, and that made her knees weak. When Tom pushed the tip to her, she could only moan incoherently.

The rough hand on the back of her neck withdrew to stroke a cheek from behind. Beverly could feel her breath hot and ragged, struggling to draw air. She knew what was next, and the jumble of emotions muddled her mind.

The hand stroking her cheek went to a shoulder and gripped it hard. She felt the man looming over her move fluidly, crushing himself down on her, then driving suddenly forward. He impaled her and pressed in, forcing her wide open, stretching her painfully around him. She thrashed, trying to claw away, but the hand on her shoulder, his whole body pinning her in place as he penetrated her to her very core. She couldn't even gasp as she was forced open.

Now buried inside her, Tom shifted both hands to her hips, lifting her up so her feet no longer touched the floor as he began driving into her. She was nothing more than a body for him. She was his fleshlight. He pounded into her, using her as little more than a rag to pump his frustration into.

"Can he be salvaged?" Tom grunted as he continued thrusting into the slave. Cocksocket thrashed, gurgling pained noises as Tom used her casually and without thought.

Evelyn let out a shuddering sigh, obviously affected by what she was seeing happen. "He's committed to the dinner. There's still time."

Tom barely seemed to hear. He continued rocking the slave, jerking her across his cock in silence as the slave's sighs hit high peaks. He lifted the slave up off the chair back, holding her effortlessly against himself as her limbs thrashed and dangled, looking for anything to steady herself.

"How many more?" he asked.

Evelyn let a hand drift from her knee up under her skirt. Tom saw her do this and said nothing, their eyes locked. While stroking herself through thin panties, Evelyn said, "Another dozen or so."

"Fuck. Seems like I've already talked to dozens of these fat lap dogs." He grunted while continuing to grind away in the cunt wrapped around him.

"You have," Evelyn replied. "Holgate makes number fifteen."

Tom continued slamming into the squealing slave girl while asking, "There's what, four hundred congressmen and another hundred senators? How's a few dozen going to help?"

"Four hundred and thirty-two, sir, respectfully. It's about working on scale. You are talking to the ones who can bring in others. When I speak to Holgate about the dinner, he'll ask to bring friends. We'll agree, and the dinner will expand to nearly sixty congresspeople and senators."

"I'm losing my patience with these pampered fuckwits." Tom said. He pounded into Cocksocket, feeling how close he was. He needed her tight little pussy to grab him, to flutter him to climax. He demanded, "Cum! Right now. Cum on me cunt."

Cocksocket tensed up, reaching back to try and stop the assault. Everything went rigid, then she cried out, thrashing around while impaled on him. Tom gripped her hips hard, his fingers sinking into soft flesh while yanking her into him, grunting as the slave's cunt contracted around him. With a satisfied groan, Tom blasted his spunk into the slave, still rocking her across his cock as she milked him.

"It'll all be over soon," Evelyn said, stroking herself under her skirt. "A few dozen more and we're done."

"No," Tom said as he slowed his stabs into the shuddering slave. "I need a break. I'm going to go see Evan about his recruit."

"I'll delay the meetings we have scheduled for a few days then," Evelyn said.

Tom shoved Cocksocket off him with a pop as he came free. His spunk oozed down Beverly's thighs as the slave quivered across the back of the chair.

"I always forget how tedious this dumpster fire of a city is." Tom took a deep, satisfied breath, then looked down at his slime-covered cock. Evelyn stroked herself, enjoying the sight of both the exhausted used slave and her owner standing naked with the slave's juices smeared across him. Tom nodded his head at Evelyn, "Well, get over here and clean me off."

"Yes, sir," Evelyn said, crawling to clean her master off.