Green Lagoon

Green Lagoon

"What's this supposed to be?"

Tom wasn't surprised by Laura's tone, displeased as usual.

"You slacker. You spilled half of it. Fine. You'll have to make another trip."

For more than two years the two of them only had each other, ever since a storm had swept nearly the entire crew of their ship into the sea. He had turned eighteen four months ago, and Laura was a little older.

The wreck was two years behind them and the island they'd reached afterwards had enough resources to keep them alive. The only adult who'd survived was the captain. He'd built them a rough shelter from the ship's planks and taught them how to find food and flint from which they could light a fire. That was before a strange illness had taken him.

Young as they still were, they'd managed to, not only survive, but to make life on this distant shore, almost bearable. Laura, especially, had been able to settle herself, being that little bit older than Tom. She had matured sooner, and for a while she'd been taller and stronger. No one had taught them new rules for living together, so she felt no shame in using her advantage.

When Tom came back from the spring with water, she was rummaging through one of the many chests that had washed ashore on that cursed day, sorting the clothes that were stuffed inside. He hated going there, but more than once in the past, Laura had made him pay for protesting. Now, out of breath, he watched her look at him over the rim of the chest with a hard stare.

"Well? Didn't you hear me?" she continued. "Do I have to put you in your place again, you good-for-nothing? You spilled half of it on the way back, so now you get to run back nicely with another bucket. Move, you lazy thing. Before I lose my patience."

More than once, Tom had had his ears rubbed raw, sand put in his mouth and his hair yanked. He clenched his teeth and hunched a little, almost ready to go. This time, however, something in him resisted.

Lately, he'd grown and his muscles were harder and more visible. Laura had shown him many times that she was in charge, and that knowledge had stayed wit him. Yet, day by day, he saw more clearly that she was smaller now, and, in truth, the weaker of the two.

"I'll go tomorrow. We have enough water," he said, daring this small refusal.

He knew she wouldn't tolerate even the slightest disobedience. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him as if these were the last seconds of his life. She approached him and swung.

The blow never landed on his cheek because Tom caught her wrist and shoved. She went down. Surprise flashed in her eyes.

"Oh, now you've done it," she said, and clenching her fists she threw herself at him.

He caught her around the waist and brought her to the ground, startled by how easily it happened. He held her there, pinned, and watched in astonishment as she thrashed, floundering against his grip. For a moment, she writhed until her resistance faded. In her expression he saw something between shock and confusion -- as if she'd been thrown out of a role she'd always known.

"Okay," she said after a while, her voice suddenly calm. "You don't have to get more water today."

Encouraged by the small victory, Tom felt he didn't need this scrap of mercy. He could go further.

"I'm not going at all," he said slowly, looking into her eyes, daring more. "You are."

"What?" Anger crossed her face. "No, that's taking too much."

She twisted in his hold again but it did no good and Tom suddenly wanted something he had dreamed of for a long time -- something he thought about at night. He held her fast and began to rub her ears, just like she used to rub his.

"Well? Will to go nicely?" he asked, not stopping.

Laura thrashed, but she couldn't do much. After a moment, she gave in.

"I'll go, I'll go -- just stop," she hissed through her teeth.

He let her go, feeling that something important had just happened. He sat beside her and watched with satisfaction as an obviously bewildered Laura got up, flushed, an -- as if she couldn't believe what she was doing -- picked up the bucket.

He saw the mix of emotions on her face. Anger, uncertainty and a look of someone who had was confused about their place suddenly.

She touched her sore ears, muttered something under her breath, and vanished into the dark.

Only then, did it slowly sink in. Tom felt that now he was the one in charge. Something inside told him that a whole range of possibilities had just opened up -- though he didn't yet know what they were. In any case, he felt an unusual pleasure watching Laura obey. He savoured it. If she'd gone for water on his say so, couldn't he ask for anything?

He remembered how she'd made him fan her on the beach, with no though for how his arms had ached. He smiled at the thought of ordering her to do the same. Although, to be honest, he saw nothing especially pleasant in being fanned.

While he was thinking, Laura came back with the water. Without a word she set the bucket down and sat demonstratively a little way off. She was sulking and didn't say another word about the contest she'd just lost. It seemed she wanted to forget it at once, but she couldn't fully ignore him.

Evening came.

As usual, they prepared to sleep and lay down in silence on the wide mattress saved from the ship. Ordinarily, they fell asleep quickly but not this time. Tom's thoughts would not let him rest and although he knew she didn't want to talk about the day, he had no wish to let it go.

"From now on, you listen to me," he said.

There was no answer so after a moment he added, "Do you understand?"

Laura remained quiet, lying with her back to him. He propped himself onto one elbow. He knew the conversation was uncomfortable for her but he didn't intend to retreat.

"Well?" he asked. "Shall I rub your ears again?"

"No," came a quiet reply at last. "All right. I'll listen to you," she said reluctantly. "Now, let's sleep," she added, eager to stop the discussion.

Tom wasn't ready to sleep.

"No," he said, firmly. "Now I want you to sit up."

She didn't move.

"You will listen, do you understand?"

She turned and unwillingly sat up, staring ahead. She lifted her chin, pressing her lips together and after a long moment, she looked at him. She looked thrown and out of her depth. He felt a strange pleasure watching the girl who'd bullied him mercilessly, carry out his order. However, it didn't satisfy whatever was waking inside him, it only fed it.

"Look at me and say it in a full sentence. 'I am your servant'." It was the first thing that came to him, a way to mark his new place.

Laura tightened her jaw harder, knowing she couldn't wriggle out of this easily. Tom, it seemed, needed to taste the power he now had. There was no way out for her, so all that remained was for her to drop her gaze and say, "I am your servant."

She looked at him, subdued.

She'd already noticed he was growing stronger and it had worried her. There was no escape as she was bound to him. Still she believed, deep down, that it was temporary. She would find a way because she didn't like knowing that he could now set the terms.

Tom watched her closely. Slowly, he understood that he could do anything now. He drank the feeling in as bolder thoughts arrived, even those that had frightened him before.

He remembered a scuffle when Laura had yanked his trousers down at the back and struck him twice across the bare buttocks with a stick. It hadn't hurt much but the humiliation had lingered. Now he looked at her hips and as she saw his look a shiver ran through her. She drew in a little, obviously not knowing what this new dynamic would ask of her.

He remembered a scuffle when Laura had yanked his trousers down at the back and struck him twice across the bare buttocks with a stick. It hadn't hurt much but the humiliation had lingered. Now he looked at her hips and as she saw his look a shiver ran through her. She drew in a little, obviously not knowing what this new dynamic would ask of her

He remembered a scuffle when, the day he turned eighteen four months previously, when Laura had yanked his trousers down at the back and struck him twice across the bare buttocks with a stick. She'd made him sing to her to celebrate him coming of age, thinking it was funny, but then he'd sung so badly she'd punished him. It didn't hurt all that much, but the sense of humiliation lingered.

He was still deciding what he wanted.

Impatiently, Laura asked, "May I lie down now?"

He gave no answer so after a moment she lowered her voice and, looking at her hands, humbly asked, "May I? Please."

He felt a rush of that odd pleasure, seeing her ask permission so meekly.

He nodded, almost kindly, savouring her uncertainty. Only now, with her humility before him, stranger instincts began to stir.

Watching her, he said, "Turn you back to me."

"Why?"

There was a hint of bewilderment in her tone. Still she turned clumsily and lay with her back to him, tense, waiting, as if she didn't yet know how to behave.

"Let's see whether you really listen."

Thoughts crowded his mind. He knew what he wanted but couldn't quite say it. What he longed to order her to do felt... improper. Far from civilisation for this long, he barely knew what to call it. He knew, however, that he wanted obedience -- proof, plain and visible, that she was subservient to him. At last, looking at Laura's backside in her grey shorts, he forced out the words.

"Pull those down and uncover your ass. I want to see it. Then you'll know what rights you have here from today."

"Not a chance."

The answer was instant and she tried to sit up. Tom caught her arm hard and they thrashed again. He twisted her arm.

"Well?" he asked, pressing.

"No."

She wouldn't yield, though her face was flushed, so he stopped asking. He grabbed the drawstring at her hips and in one motion pulled the shorts down.

"Cover me. Cover me up right now or you'll regret it," Laura said, her voice trembling.

She writhed harder but in his mind she should have shown him she was obedient to him. That was what he wanted to feel the most, and looking at her, he felt something else as well. He noticed how smooth and soft the skin there looked. The sight of her bare bottom sent a shiver through him he'd never known before.

She was wider at the hips than him and looking at her curves was unreasonably pleasant. What didn't suit him was that she kept twisting and wouldn't let him look in peace.

He felt -- or told himself that he felt -- that he was hurting her a little, that it shamed her and still he couldn't master the want. He pressed her arm until she gasped and stopped thrashing.

"Will you be obedient?" he asked. "I want you to stop that."

"Yes, I will, I will... let go please."

He loosened his hold and she lay again with her back to him, her fists clenched against her chest. She didn't dare hide herself.

"Enough? Is that enough, Tom?" she asked without conviction.

He drank in the sight. Until now he hadn't known anything so enthralling could exist. The cleft between her cheeks looked especially delicate and enticing. Then, another thought occurred. He didn't have to be generous to the woman who'd always persecuted him. He lay back comfortably and, pleased with himself, began to eat dates.

"You'll stay like that, until I get tired of it."

He bit into another date. He heard a small sound from her and felt a flicker of pity -- guilt even. He didn't know why looking at her uncovered bottom was so pleasant that he didn't want to give it up. Even her helpless anger sent fresh waves of delight through him. Still he didn't know what he truly wanted. He lingered over it until he fell asleep.

"No," Tom said, firmly. "We go that way."

The sun was at its highest in a cloudless sky, the ocean had taken on a faint green hue. The sand of the wide beach looked nearly flawlessly white. The only tracks on it belonged to the two of them, walking its length.

He felt a deep satisfaction that today the choice of direction was his. This satisfaction was greater because Laura followed, though at first she'd insisted on the opposite way. It was spoiled a little when the coconut palms they found were already stripped but he kept his disappointment off his face and pretended not to see Laura's expression. It seemed to say, 'See, I was right.' At last, tired from searching, they found a tree that still had fruit.

"From today, you climb," he said, having waited the whole walk to say it.

It had always been Laura who sent him up, standing below, driving him on and calling him slow. Now she'd work and he'd criticise.

He pointed to the trunk and she looked at it, sulkily. They held each other's gaze a moment until she moved forward. She began to climb but didn't do it well. He watched with a stern face and didn't relent. She set her jaw too, seeming to want to show that if he could do it, so could she.

After a while he followed her up and began to brace her, pushing her higher. It did little good, except he made another discovery. Helping her, he felt with his hands how soft she was -- her thighs her bottom, her belly. Nicest of all though, through her blouse he felt her breasts. He didn't have long to enjoy it, though, as she tore loose at once, jumped back from the tree, covering herself and glaring.

They stood in silence and then he said, "Fine. We'll drop it. I can see you're hopeless at it, I'll climb."

He had thought that the new order would at least help on the way back, for carrying the coconuts but she wasn't much help there either. His only gain was that he didn't have to carry them all himself, as he always had, and listen to a row every time he dropped something.

That evening, lying on the bedding, he realized he was angry.

She was no good at fishing, either and although he'd sworn she would get not a scrap of coconut for being useless, her look of hunger made him give her a share. The same with the fish. What was the power worth if he still did the heaviest work himself? He watched, with irritation, Laura lying with her back to him again. At least he could still taste the power and, oddly, that seemed a pleasant idea.

"What did I say yesterday? Uncover your ass."

To his surprise, although she moved uncertainly, she did it. Still lying with her back to him, she slid the linen shorts down. After a day in which she had proved she couldn't do anything, she seemed unsure of herself. He could have withheld food. She didn't look pleased -- but she left herself bare and, facing away, rested her head on her hands.

Again, he felt that strange pleasure. He didn't know where it came from. Sometimes, it seemed like it was because Laura, who had always ordered him around and insulted him, now showed submission. And then there was the sight of her... Pleasant shivers ran through him, especially, low in his belly, while he looked at her.

"Is that enough?" she asked, almost pleading. "I feel strange. Please..."

Again he felt pity but couldn't look away, couldn't deny himself. He remembered how soft she had been at the tree. He wanted to feel that again.

"Don't squirm," he said, and raised himself on one elbow.

"What are you going to do?"

Her voice was unsteady as she glanced back, flushed and at a loss.

"I told you. Don't move. I want to touch you and you will not protest."

"No... please..." she said.

It was already too late as she felt his hand on her. Then his fingers began to knead and stroke.

"What are you doing?" was all she whispered.

He didn't intend to stop because touching her was too good. He knew she was shaken, her quicker breathing showing how hard she took this. He couldn't hold back. Again the double rush, power and the simple pleasure of touch.

His eyes kept going to that shy line between her bottom cheeks, and the place where it disappeared between her thighs seemed almost an ocean of sweetness. He knew he could do anything and yet he hesitated to explore those places with his fingers. He told himself he didn't want to hurt her too much but he couldn't resist.

"Shh," he whispered at last. "Just there... hold still..."

His fingers slipped between her buttocks and a little deeper, between her thighs. He felt an unimaginable softness, smoothness, warmth. She writhed. He held her. He wanted this to last and last. He'd no other word for sounds she made so he assumed she was suffering.

At last she twisted out of his hands and curled into the corner, pulling her shorts up. She wasn't a weeper, but this was the first time, in a long while, he'd seen her like this. Scarlet to the throat, eyes shining, looking at him as if she didn't know where to put herself. It snapped him back to the present.

"Alright, alright," he muttered. He felt a little foolish, and seeing the mix of emotions on her face he felt something like guilt. "Lie down. I won't bother you anymore. Come on."

She settled on the bedding, hesitantly, watching him from the corner of her eye in case he was planning something more. He lay down too, turning the other way.

He thought of the delicacy and warmth he had felt. He wondered why those places of hers drew him so. He remembered what he had found under her blouse at the tree. He wanted to check that too and anger rose again.

The power he had won seemed almost useless. He still climbed trees, he still fished and yet he couldn't touch her as he wanted because something stopped him. All he could do was make her uncover herself. He wanted to do it once more tonight, then decided to leave her be, let her find her feet again.

Tomorrow he wouldn't ease off. It all went around in his head and made him angry. He wanted to sleep as soon as he could but, for no reason he understood, a condition seized him in the night and his cock stood like a rod and he couldn't lie comfortably.

He woke much later than usual. He'd been awake half the night and he felt his eyes were ringed. He looked at Laura, who was wasting time on her useless amusement of arranging greenery in their shelter, rinsing it, throwing out coconut husks and wiping dust from the chests saved from the wreck. She hadn't slept well either and she was looking at him strangely.

Because they were tired, the day passed with a lazy air. Luckily, they had a store of coconuts, dates and fish to satisfy their hunger.

Evening brought good news. A large bird had been caught in one of the traps the captain had built before he died. Such a prize was always a rare treat after they became weary of a fish diet. Tom was so full that after it was roasted he could only manage a little of it.

He kept Laura waiting a while and savoured the way she looked at his dinner, her mouth watering. Usually, it was he who had to watch and wait until she graciously gave him something to eat. When he saw she had lost hope of a scrap and a gleam had come into her eyes, he softened and cut her a piece.

He remembered her bottom and those wonderful soft places and generously cut more. Looking at her, he didn't feel hungry at all. Thoughts of the rounded softness under her clothes, and how unbearably pleasant they were to both look at and touch, crossed his mind relentlessly.

He put the rest of the bird aside for the next day. He watched her eat her share.

Even her knee, visible in the shorts, was a pleasant sight. He looked at his own hairy legs, that back at hers, so smooth, and he could hardly look away. The skin on her thigh seemed even more delicate, but he couldn't see as much as he wanted, the hem hid it. She noticed his gaze and tugged her shorts down.

He couldn't wait for night. To occupy his mind he went to check the other traps. When he came back, Laura was already asleep. He lay down, and of course, all of his attention was on her again.

"Hey," he whispered. "You asleep?"

Without thinking, he edged closer. He didn't mean to give up his newly discovered nightly amusement at her expense. It hadn't bored him in the least.

"What's the matter? I want to see," he said, nudging her.

She couldn't pretend any longer. She answered quietly.

"But then you'll start tormenting me again."

She curled up -- and curling, she pushed her hips out more.

"Come on, stop... I've already seen. Let me pull them down," he whispered, catching the drawstring from behind.

"Tom... please," she whispered back in a strange tone.

His stomach growled.

"Alright... in a moment. I'll finish the bird first. You get ready in the meantime. I want to see that you listen to me."

"Wait. Okay," she said quickly.

She slid the shorts down herself in a hurry. This behaviour was a bit odd but he didn't think about it because the familiar pleasant feeling flooded him. Hunger was strong as well.

"One second, I'll be back," he said.

She caught his hand.

"Stay... do you want to...? Touch, if you want."

She offered her hips a little. He pulled his hand free, gripped her, let go, and sprang up as if burned.

"Wait. I'll be right there."

When he came back a moment later, Laura was curled in the corner, looking at him as is she was scared. He looked down at her with a hard stare. He said only two words, and everything was clear.

"Where's the bird?"

She dropped her gaze and whispered innocently, "Isn't it there?"

She felt she was truly in trouble. The first thing she did was to cover her ears, instinctively, though she knew she'd be lucky if she paid for her insolence with only that. When he was already standing over her, not knowing what else to do, she turned on her side and meekly pulled her shorts down at the back, watching him over her shoulder. His face cleared a little but she wasn't sure it wasn't an illusion.

"Then touch..."

He crouched and of course he touched, and he wasn't satisfied. He felt that though he was stronger and could do anything, it gave him nothing, and that irritated him. Not only was there no profit -- after a thing like the bird he somehow couldn't hurt her. Many times in fantasy, when he'd been on the receiving end, he'd seen himself paying her back once he was stronger. And now... she seemed so delicate in his eyes, especially now that he was touching her, he felt he couldn't have thrashed her, the way she had once thrashed him with a stick.

At last he lay down, resigned, and while he thought, he savoured the sight of her obediently offered backside. She didn't protest, perhaps glad she had wriggled out of blame, but she watched his every move.

Meanwhile thoughts crowded in on him. On one side he revelled in having forced his old rival to bare herself; on the other he couldn't get over how much grace there was in her. And with every moment he wanted more. Far more. He didn't know how to begin, so he did it straight. He rolled a startled Laura onto her back and caught the drawstring.

"Wait," he said. "I want to look at what you've got there."

"But..." She caught the cloth at her waist. "You can't do that."

He stared at her belly and navel. Somewhere in him he felt that indeed you couldn't -- and as he slid the shorts down, every inch of her uncovered body made him want a little more, and a little more. He felt her twist, felt how unnerved she was. Just as he'd realised he couldn't bring himself to hurt her with a stick, now he couldn't stop despite her protests. He knew she felt cornered, out of her depth but he simply had to have it.

"Shh... there, there," he whispered close to her ear, moving her hands aside he lowered the waistband.

He saw a tuft of fine, curling black hair, and beneath it a split he couldn't look away from. He saw that his gaze flustered her, and the more confusion she showed, the less he could look away. Her thighs meeting there were perhaps the smoothest of all. She tried to cover herself, he drew her hands away.

"You can't..." she kept protesting.

It did no good.

Breathing faster, he pushed her blouse up.

"Just this as well," he whispered, and firmly moved her arms aside, drawing the blouse almost to her throat, baring her breasts.

She could only watch, flushed and at a loss, as he stripped her, she no longer dared cover herself with her hands.

"You can't, you can't..." she repeated softly.

Fascinated by what he saw, he didn't answer. Only now, seeing her whole body from above, did he feel with full force how delicate she was how smooth -- and how weak beside him.

He understood how little she could do to stop this. He looked at her breasts. The way they looked, the way they moved, spoke of their softness. The sight of her, so unlike what he had between his own legs, made him feel how adrift she was now. And still he couldn't resist using his advantage.

"What... what are you doing?" she asked, startled, watching his hand land on her belly and travel upward. "You mustn't touch like that."

"Shh," he said. "You ate my bird so this will be your punishment. Touching."

He felt her tense under his fingers and told himself how hard she must be taking it, and could not resist. Whatever happened, he had to touch her breasts. With his fingertips he tested their firmness. He looked into her eyes.

Despite how shaken she was, he thought she could stand a little more, and took her breast in his hand. Fascinated, he began to knead. He heard her breathe harder. He worried -- in his own fashion -- whether the punishment was too much -- and with a kind of satisfaction decided she had earned it.

Looking at her breast in his hand, feeling its warmth and softness, he even thought it might have been worth it that she had eaten the bird. He knew, without putting it into words, that those small red buds, which looked as if they might burst at the lightest touch, were surely very sensitive. He thought she must be lost seeing his hand so close to one of them, and he felt a little sorry for her.

He could not resist. He caught a nipple between his fingers and, feeling it swell, kneaded it gently. Doing it was extraordinarily pleasant. He saw her begin to moan under his touch. He even worried that he was causing her so much suffering, if she made a sound like that. And still something would not let him stop; even that sound from her woke a stranger and greater excitement in him.

"And now I'll only touch you there," he said, decided, looking at the tuft of hair between her thighs that drew the eye.

She writhed; he held her.

"Be still. I'll only touch."

Paying no heed to how she floundered and protested, he slid his hand between her thighs and took hold of her. Now she thrashed with nearly all her strength. He could not stop. He stroked her there without ceremony.

"Don't do that. It won't help you. You know you earned it," he told her -- or perhaps himself.

He held her, and despite her moans and writhing he continued. He even found he liked the sight: she twisting in his hold, he strong enough to keep her there. After a moment he wanted something still further. Almost startled by his own intention, he bent a finger and slid it into that moist warmth. He was afraid he might hurt her, and could not withdraw.

He held her close and, whispering "shh, shh, it's all right" into her ear, stroked her inside with his finger. He felt shudders go through her body from the touching, and could not stop.

At last he took his hand from her, caught her wrists, pinned them above her head, and lay down on her, pressing close, rubbing against her. Her mouth was so near; he heard her breath, caught her scent, wanted to be closer and closer... He felt his cock, strained to the limit, rubbing her through his trousers, giving him more and more of a pleasure he had never known. He rubbed like that a long time, feeling her writhe under him.

At last something came that filled his senses with bliss. He felt himself pulse. Then everything faded, little by little.

He climbed off her slowly. For a while they both lay silent. He felt uneasy. He didn't know what had happened to him, only that he felt guilty for treating her that way. Suddenly her nakedness no longer intrigued him in the same way, so he covered her. He felt her tremble in silence, and remorse grew. He wanted to put an arm around her, then drew his hand back. The knowledge that he had done something wrong filled his mind; he decided not to torment himself with it. He only said, at the end, as if justifying himself:

"Well... now you'll remember not to eat my food."

Then he turned away. Falling asleep he still had the feeling that the punishment had been too much. He promised himself he wouldn't do that to her again. He did not know how wrong he was.

All the next day they did not speak. After a time it began to irritate him. He found he missed her nagging. Not long ago the days had been filled at least with the scolding he still took from her: that he had done this wrong, that he did that too slowly. It had annoyed him, true, but at least he could occupy his mind with plans of revenge, if he hadn't been afraid of a kick or two.

Now, when he could have carried out his worst plans, the old fantasies of dragging her by the hair and hearing her beg for mercy no longer pleased him. He admitted, too, that she hadn't always been so bad. When he'd been ill and lay in fever, she had brought him water, stroked his head, held him. When he recovered, it was hard again. Sometimes Laura, almost for sport, had tormented him in various ways.

Though it was long ago, he still remembered the time she'd stuffed a twig down his shirt, saying it was a huge hairy spider, then mocked him when he thrashed and cried. Fanning had not been pleasant either, when tears almost stood in his eyes from tiredness and she struck his ankles with a stick when he slowed.

And now... he had a conscience about the night before. Sitting on the beach, he watched the waves strike the shore in a steady rhythm. Laura, sulky-faced, was combing her hair, looking in a mirror. He wondered why she wasted time on such nonsense.

At this hour she usually tyrannised him, sending him to the nearby stream to wash, then checking with a stern eye whether his hands, feet and ears were clean. Then usually came a row that he was a slob, and he had to go again. He'd hated it, and for a moment he savoured not having to -- being able to lie on the sand in peace. After a while the silence and the lack of her buzzing voice began to grate. At last he got what he had waited for.

"Maybe you could wash, you slob?" she said, reproachfully.

His longing for the nagging vanished at once. All the pictures returned of having to obey her in everything. He turned to her with a serious face.

"Or what? Don't forget yourself," he said, superior, and felt again the pleasure that went with it.

"Or you'll start to stink," Laura said.

He was about to show her she should watch her mouth -- then he saw on her face, besides anger, the knowledge that she no longer decided here, and that look of someone still finding her feet, and he softened his answer a little.

"I swam in the ocean. That's enough. And I'll give you good advice: don't forget yourself."

She dropped her eyes. She still could not find her place in the new order. Tom felt more and more at home in it. Seeing her yield, he made a decision. Now he wanted to feel it.

With satisfaction he said, "Now you go and wash. Properly. And I'll check."

She stood a moment and he could see her emotions rise.

"You don't have to watch me for that," she said slowly. "I'm older and wiser than you, and no one has to force me to wash."

He stood up from the sand. Facing her, it was plain who was taller and more powerful now. He looked at her until uncertainty entered her gaze.

"Do you have anything else to say?" he asked, hands on his hips.

She didn't answer.

"You go now. March." He pointed toward the stream. "Do you want to make me angry?"

She thought a moment, then sighed and went slowly the way he had shown. Again he felt sorry for her. A fall from the top of the hierarchy to the bottom was certainly not pleasant. And still, despite the reflex of pity, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure.

The sight of her carrying out his orders stroked his pride. And that submission brought back images of what he had seen the day before: her slim body, her breasts, how little she had known what to do with any of it. Sitting there he thought of her more and more intensely and shifted restlessly. The minutes stretched; he looked for her with growing impatience. Again his cock stood and he could do nothing about it.

At last, when he saw her, he felt relief. He stood and watched her come. At the sight of him she slowed. He called her to him.

"Hands," he commanded, with satisfaction, copying her old manner.

"This is stupid," she protested, but she held out her hands.

"And when you checked me it wasn't stupid?" he asked.

He touched her hands. They were so small. Held in his they seemed slight, and at the same time every part of them was almost perfect. He took her wrists and stroked higher. Under his fingers he felt she had gooseflesh.

"Because I'm not a slob like you who has to be watched," she muttered.

Looking at her wrists bared for him, he felt again how small she seemed now -- how he couldn't bring himself to hurt her. And at the same time he couldn't help savouring his power over her. He laid a hand on her neck. He could not deny himself what he had thought of.

"Ear," he said.

He saw her confusion and hesitation, but when she turned her head and obediently bared her ear, he held his breath. He looked at and stroked her uncovered neck, and though he liked the situation he could not understand why there was so little fight in her. When he had been on the receiving end he had at least sometimes tried to bite, or at least swear, before he took the stick across the back and promised to be good.

Her almost complete surrender made his respect for her as an opponent vanish entirely. The way she yielded to his orders made the last of her authority shrink at a frightening speed. He looked at her neck, her eyes on him, her small nose, her red, full mouth. All of it was wonderfully sweet. He almost wanted to bite her. And her submission only sharpened the feeling.

"Feet as well," he said, crouching slowly.

She sighed, at a loss. He caught her heel and unceremoniously lifted her leg. You could not be gentle with someone so meek. And holding her like that he could not stop touching her, almost with reverence. She was wearing shorts, so the lower part of the leg was bare. The skin of her calf and knee tempted with softness; he could not stop stroking.

He held her small foot in one hand. He caught the tiny toes and kneaded them with care. They were so sweet. With the other hand he stroked the velvet of her knee and felt her tense more and more. The pull was so strong that without thinking he bent and touched her calf with his mouth. He felt her hands on his head and unconvincing attempts to push him away.

"What are you doing? That's enough..." he heard her whisper.

It was too late. He held her firmly and, still crouching, looked up into her face.

"I'll check everything," he said, determined.

He had no mercy for someone who gave way so fast. He caught the drawstring of her shorts and pulled them down. Again that country of wonders opened before him, and he wanted to enter it as a complete victor.

"Hands," he said in a tone that made her stop trying to pull the shorts back up.

That further victory made the last brakes give way.

"You'll be naked. Try even a little to resist and I'll strip you to the skin."

He no longer cared about her shining eyes, her quickened breath. He simply undressed her, almost tearing the clothes off in his impatience. Flushed, she covered herself, but she stood as she was told. He looked at her hungrily, running his hands over her waist and hips. He saw her shame again, and it only increased his pleasure. He took her wrists and slowly, firmly moved her arms aside.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, scarlet, her voice unsteady.

"Because..." He did not know himself. "Because... all of this is so... beautiful," he said at last, looking at her bared body.

He crouched again, put his arms around her and began to kiss her belly as if he could not get enough of her slim waist. He felt her breath deepen, and his own quickened with it.

"I have to. I simply have to, and you won't get out of it," he said, still kissing her belly, higher and higher.

He felt her hands close around his head.

"Because you keep undressing me..." he heard her whisper, full of reproach.

It was strange, but he had to take her nipple in his mouth. When he felt it on his tongue he almost floated away.

"... Tom... don't do that to me... Tom, no..."

He heard her whispers still, and felt her bottom in his hands. Now he pushed his fingers into her without ceremony, taking what he wanted. He paid no attention to the shudders that went through her. After a moment he turned her onto her side, bent, and began to kiss her buttocks hungrily, holding her by the hips.

It puzzled him a little that she could not stand up for herself and so easily accepted being handled like this. Worst was what he felt in his trousers. The cloth bothered him damnably, because the pleasure rose every time he rubbed the cock standing under it. At last he undid his trousers and pushed them down. She glanced at him discreetly and saw how he strained.

"Put that away," she said. "Please."

"Put what away?" he asked, holding himself there.

"I don't know what to do with it. Please."

Her voice was truly unsteady.

"Come on, stop," he said. "It won't do anything to you."

He did not know how wrong he was. When it reached him how unnerved she was by him, an ungovernable wish came over him to press exactly that against Laura. He laid her on the ground and touched her thigh with his swollen cock.

"No, please," she said. "Take it away from me."

He was losing control. Though he told himself he did not want to hurt her, he could not stop himself from using that confusion.

"Easy... just here... see, it isn't doing anything... hold on," he forced out through his teeth, watching almost in a frenzy as his cock touched her belly, her breasts.

The more she objected, the greater the rush of pleasure. At last, seeing her bewildered gaze fixed on him travelling over her body and her open mouth, he could not hold back. He wanted it so much that nothing could stop him. He felt he was doing something damnably indecent and was even a little ashamed, but the want was too strong. He brought it to her mouth. He looked at her lips and simply had to touch them with it. He stroked them with the head, one way and the other.

He wanted only a little, because he preferred not to think what she was feeling now, and he could not stop. He could not stop -- he could not keep from going further.

"Just a little... open," he felt he wanted to enter there despite how lost she looked.

"No... please..." she whispered. "Don't do those things to me..."

It was already too late. He slid it into her mouth. He felt the warmth and the softness. He held it there, and that alone was so exciting he almost left himself. He savoured every moment. He looked down at her face. She looked rather pitiful to him, all the more because he had pushed out one of her cheeks with the head.

The sight was even a little funny; on the other hand he knew by instinct that it must throw her. He was about to stop, then remembered the hundreds of insults that had come from her mouth. Now that mouth was stopped with him, and satisfaction on that account outweighed care for how she felt. He even noticed that when he rubbed the head inside her mouth the pleasure grew more. Seeing how dazed she looked he decided to be gentle and moved very slowly.

He drank the sight, remembering all the "idiot"s and "slacker"s aimed at him. What he was doing was terrible in his own mind, and at the same time so exciting -- no matter what she had to be living through.

"Just a little more... hold on," he whispered, because he had to stroke her tongue with the head.

He lingered in that feeling, and while he did the emotion boiled in him. At last, a little sated with what he had wanted, he thought he would leave her in peace. He drew out of her mouth and lay down on her, fitting his whole body as close as he could. Partly from guilt, partly because she drew him, he began to hold her and kiss her again.

When he noticed his cock had brushed her, his whole plan of easing off a little burned away. He remembered the warmth he had felt with his finger. Again he felt that strange need. He knew what shame it caused her when that place was uncovered. He felt, without words, that it was a special place, her most hidden secret. Something very intimate... and that something made him want to bring himself there. As if by crossing that line he would take everything from her. And he wanted to take as much as he could.

It was a little inconvenient that this time she had not earned any punishment, and scruples bothered him -- and it was already a little late for them. When he touched her with the head, when he saw how lost she looked, how hard he had to hold her, how she almost lost her breath, his wish to be there, to rub against her, grew and grew.

He looked, fascinated. Indeed he looked like some menacing intruder against how soft she was. It was so pleasant to do this to her in such a place. He savoured watching her yield under every press. At last he could not hold back and, without meaning to, pushed. Something strange happened... he went into her deep.

At first he was startled, because a long sound broke from her. But the intense bliss was too strong to withdraw. With great dread he looked at her, shudders going through her body. Seeing it he thought what harm he must be doing her. He was terrified by it all -- and still, however frightened he was by what was happening to her, he had to push just once more. He promised himself only that once. Then there was another. And another.

He heard the sounds she made, muffled by the sea, spreading over the beach with every thrust, and could not stop. He had no other name for them. He was sure they were pain. The unimaginable pleasure he felt there was stronger than he was, stronger than his resistance.

"Shh, please... hold on..."

He held her almost through his own confusion and kissed her, and pushed and pushed. That heat, her tightness... and that something in him that grew and grew. The sounds from her grew louder, and Tom, though he was almost losing his senses from not understanding what was happening to her, held her hard and thrust more and more, faster and faster.

At last he felt as if he would burst inside her. He savoured the pleasure, and suddenly among those sounds that unbearable pressure exploded somewhere, bringing an incredible relief. As if some poison that had been clouding his mind had left him. He drew out and lay on his back. Luckily Laura, despite what he thought he had done to her, was still breathing, which calmed him a little, and he could fall asleep.

When he woke she was not beside him. He was terrified that something had happened to her, then calmed when he saw her sitting by the ocean, staring at it, throwing stones into the water.

He remembered everything that had happened and felt terrible. All those things he had done to her. The way she had sounded under him -- he was sure it had been pain -- and he, wretched, had not been able to stop.

A great guilt seized him. He knew he had already promised himself once that he would not do that to her, and it had come out worse. Now he promised, striking his forehead against his knee, that never, ever again, even if it twisted him. For the next days he did not torment her in any way. On his own, without being driven, he went to fish, for coconuts and other fruit. He even fetched the water himself.

When he looked at Laura he felt that heat gathering in him again. On top of that, since that night she seemed to dress more carelessly. Always some buttons undone, shorts shorter than usual. But he stood firm in his resolve, and remorse was still stronger.

He tried in every way to make up to her for how he thought he had hurt her. Though sometimes she stepped on his foot or shoved him hard in passing, he did not rebuke her. When one day they caught a bird again, he cut her a far larger piece than he took himself. He watched with interest as she ate with relish and was glad of her gladness. It was so strange... to take joy from someone else's contentment.

And then the heat began to make itself felt again. He knew a bath in the stream worked well on it. So he got up and went there before it was too late.

When he came back he saw something terrible. Laura, looking him boldly in the eye, sat under a tree eating the portion of bird set aside for later. And he knew she had not even been that hungry. Looking at Tom with insolence, not hiding it in the least, she slowly gnawed the last little bone.

"Uff," she said. "I thought I wouldn't manage, I was already so full. But I ate it, more or less."

His jaw dropped at the way she treated their greatest delicacy, saved for the next day, and did not even hide it. And that insolent look toward him, with the open proof of the crime in his hand...

The rage he felt then made every brake he had had until then give way. He punished her. He punished her hard and long.

It taught her little. The next days, weeks, months showed she could be very unruly. She had to be punished often, because she often earned it by the way she behaved.

So among her offences and the punishments, several months passed, until at last the day came when they saw sails on the horizon. But that is another story entirely.