One True Master (Desire Island 1)

A heavyset, balding man with twinkling blue eyes stood at the stove. He looked up as they entered. “There you are,” he said with a smile. He fixed his gaze on Skylar. There was no change in his expression, as if he didn’t even notice she was naked. “You must be the new trainee. I’m Henry, Desire Island’s executive chef. Welcome.”

“Thanks,” Skylar replied, smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you. It smells amazing in here.”

He beamed. “Hopefully, it tastes as good as it smells. We’re having roast beef tonight. Simple fare, prepared well. That’s my motto.” He waved toward a counter. “Your trays are ready there.”

“Thanks, Henry,” Shani said. “I’m starving.”

The trays each contained a glass of ice water and a plate piled high with roast beef, mashed potatoes and peas with mushrooms and tiny onions. There was also a steaming roll with a pat of butter beside it, along with a cloth napkin and some silverware.

Shani picked up one of the trays and gestured with her chin for Skylar to do the same. Trays in hand, they continued on to a room just past the kitchen. To Skylar’s surprise, there was no table or chairs. Five people sat on large, flat cushions around the space, trays of food on their laps or beside them on the floor. There were two empty cushions. Conversation stopped and they all looked up as Shani and Skylar entered the room.

“Everyone,” Shani said, smiling around the small room. “This is Skylar, our newest trainee.”

Chapter 6

Skylar pouted, a cute little line appearing between her eyebrows. “But I want—” she began.

“Do you have permission to speak, slave?” Caelan interrupted, purposely cutting her off.

She looked down. “No, Sir.”

“If you speak out of turn again, I’ll gag you.” A sudden image of this lovely young woman with a red ball gag in her mouth, her eyes wide, her naked body stretched against a restraining rack, leaped into his mind. He shook away the image so he could concentrate.

After dinner, he’d fetched Skylar from the staff slave dining room and led her to her bedroom. The rest of the staff was busily gearing up for the auction party, which would begin at nine, only thirty minutes from now. He’d just informed Skylar that she would not be attending, and it was clear she was pissed off about it.

The twice-weekly slave auctions were fun, playful events held in the main dungeon and open to all guests and residents on the island. While Desire Island primarily functioned as a hedonistic playground for those in the BDSM scene, the slave training program was something else altogether.

They had three trainees on the island at present, including Skylar, a twenty-something male sub named Ben and a woman in her mid-fifties called Janie who had been sent by her Master for a “tune-up.” Ella was handling Ben, who had nearly completed his ten-day stint, while Ryan had taken on Janie, who had arrived earlier in the week.

“I know you want to go,” he said to Skylar. “And you will get to attend an auction before you leave the island, but not tonight. You’ve had a very long day, and you’re going to be up quite early in the morning.”

A play of emotions skittered over her expressive face, from indignation to fury to grudging acceptance within the space of a few seconds. This sweet, sassy, untrained sub girl wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. She was used to finite, short scenes in a limited setting like a BDSM club, where she controlled and even dictated the action.

Yet at the same time, he sensed her frustration with her self-imposed limitations. By keeping things on that kind of playful, casual level, she’d never allowed herself to experience the true submission he was sure she not only longed for, but needed.

It was the flipside of his desire—his need—to possess a woman completely. The longing to master not only her body or even her heart, but her very soul. Yet he, too, had held himself back. Was his becoming a trainer his way of keeping his own emotional distance?

“Yes, Sir,” she muttered in a bratty tone, not meeting his eyes.

Caelan reached for her throat, circling it just above the collar with the span of his hand. Ignoring the twinge of arousal in his cock, he applied just enough pressure to get her full attention. “When you address me,” he said, adding iron to his tone, “you will look at my face and you will speak clearly and respectfully. Do you understand?”

Color splashed her cheeks, her eyes widening, her breath a gasp beneath his grip. There was both genuine fear and unmistakable arousal in her expression. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, the attitude gone, her eyes fixed on him.

He let her go. “That’s better. Remove your collar for sleeping. Make sure it’s back on in the morning before training resumes. You may go wash up now. I’ll wait here for you.”