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“You think I’m done, do you?”
She watched from the corner of her eyes, face damp from tears, sucking on her lip. If I hit her right now she’d bite herself. Those tears were so attractive, as were her little sounds when I hurt her, and that wriggling she did would win awards for seductiveness. My cock was telling me more bad things I could do.
I reached down and traced the path of her tears over her cheek then I freed her lip from her teeth. As slowly as a snake traversing steps, I bumped my finger along her front teeth, nudging past her moist little tongue tip. That she didn’t dare to try to bite was telling.
I could, theoretically, fuck her mouth right now. My cock hardened and I reached down and grasped myself through my surf shorts.
No one to stop me putting it there, or anywhere else. No watch dogs, no police, no neighbors, and no limits whatsoever.
What the hell was I doing?
I wrenched my attention away from her, stood, and walked off the concrete to the beach. I let the wind buffet me. Sure there was only me, but I’d been used to putting my trust in myself all my life. I liked making a woman scream when I whipped her but that wasn’t new. The only novelty was that this one, Jazmine, had no say in what I did or when I stopped.
Being her judge and executioner was totally doable. I trusted me.
I took my dose of antibiotics from the packet in my shorts and swallowed them. Then I looked at her, noting she’d moved back into a kneeling position. There was a good reason for chastising her. I hadn’t told her to do that. Having logical reasons for my sadistic impulses seemed important.
I went to the box full of toys and goodies I’d bought in a rush this morning from the local kinky shop – my first essentials for this desert island holiday, along with food, torches, sleeping bags and so on.
Gags, whip, rope, straps, bars, more rope, clamps, etcetera, and so on and, of course, the cane. I fished that out along with a pair of padlockable ankle and wrist cuffs, her new red collar, and a leash that had come from the pet store. I’d found a good metal tag that had Kitty engraved on it. Damn, I hoped she’d spit when I attached it to her neck.
I’d even packed some needles. Elenor would’ve run screaming from those.
When I turned up in front of her with the collar in hand, her eyes grew round.
“No. You took off the collar from the House. Please, those are evil.” Her shudder rocked her breasts, reminding me of my idea.
When I laid my finger across my lips, she fell silent.
“This is a collar from me, no one else. It says you’re mine. You’re to leave it on, unless I say to remove it. Sit still.”
As I adjusted and buckled the collar, her lips firmed and I sensed a new determination to resist me. So be it. Game on. I had plans to make her mind come around. I didn’t intend to have to monitor her every day, every second. The tag swung and I flicked it.
“Says Kitty. I could call you that but meisie will do unless I’m in a kitty cat mood.”
Now the fire was lit. “I’m not a cat!”
“You are whatever I say you are, and from now on I don’t intend to call you Jaz or Jazmine. You will answer to meisie or maybe Kitty. You will be given daily punishment, whatever I choose, as well as any extra punishment you may have earned.” I grinned. An explosion seemed imminent. I put my forefinger on her forehead. “If you talk without my permission, you earn punishment. You will call me Sir when you address me. If you have a question you can ask permission to talk by saying, ‘please Sir, may I ask a question?’ Clear?”
Her bodice was heaving dramatically. “Fuck! No, I will not!” At the slide of my fingers up into her hair and the levering backward of her head, she clammed up.
Bingo. Caught you. I leaned in, with a nasty twist to my mouth. I was trying so hard not to smile. I made my voice low, so low earthquakes were a distinct possibility. I wanted to scare the crap out of her now, today, early. To nip rebellion in the bud. To make her know I was her master. Her eyes went wide and still. Her mouth gaped as if she had more words but she’d decided to swallow them.
“I have noted that fokken outburst. If there’s another one, I’ll punish you now. Got that? Say, yes, Sir.”
I almost hoped she’d be bad again, but she whispered a yes, sir, then waited.
“Good.” I went behind her and released her wrists, tucked the handcuffs in my pocket then attached ankle cuffs and linked them. Now she was hobbled. “We’re moving the boxes into that first cabin up there. It’s the only one with an intact roof and Glass has the generator and the fuel drums nearby. You’re helping. So you don’t do anything stupid, this island is too small to hide on and the nearest piece of land is hundreds of miles away. Try swimming somewhere and I guarantee you’ll get eaten by sharks.”
The fuel drums were far enough from the hut that we wouldn’t go up with a bang if the fuel erupted, close enough that I could watch for thieves of that or any equipment like the bolted-down generator.
The little cabin had no paint left on the weathered timber walls. The windows were long gone but we had shutters. No lights unless I ran the gen and I wasn’t doing that. We had some gas lanterns, some torches. The satellite phone would go in the waterproof safe bolted above the floor. Cooking was going to be limited to driftwood fires and gas. Once a week, Glass would return with supplies. Once a day I would check in with him on the sat phone.
At least we seemed to be missing any mosquitoes.
As we tromped to and fro transporting the stuff, I was pleased at her behavior. So far so good. The rainwater tank was filled to the brim from the cyclone.
After a quick swim to wash off sweat, while she waited on the beach, I carried one of the chairs from the hut out onto the little patio. I dumped a sleeping bag on the concrete at the foot of the chair, and sat down to watch the stars come out. The vanishing sun was turning the few clouds pink and orange. Another three quarters of an hour of light perhaps. I’d grabbed a cane from the gear and had balanced it across my legs.
