Three Strikes (Desire Island 3)

“All right, Abbie,” he said, finally dropping the bantering tone. “For tonight, you get to call the shots.”

They left the dungeon together. Abbie could feel the stares of some of the other women who had been outbid. She lifted her head with pride, unable to completely hide her triumphant smile.

Abbie lived on the first floor of the main resort building in what was called the slave quarters. Free room and board were just some of the many perks included in working on Desire Island. Each of the dozen or so rooms along the hallway was equipped with a St. Andrew’s cross and a wardrobe filled with BDSM toys and paraphernalia. Both staff slaves and slave trainees occupied the rooms, each with its own private bathroom and sliding glass doors that led directly out to the beach.

Abbie punched in the code to unlock her door. She opened it, gesturing for Master Ryan to precede her. She’d snagged a vase of fresh flowers from the dining room earlier that evening, and their pleasing scent lightly perfumed the air. She moved toward the mini fridge where she kept bottles of water, cans of soda and some fresh fruit.

“Can I offer you something to drink, Sir?”

Should she have said Sir, given the situation? Not that she could help it. Master Ryan was Master Ryan or Sir, no matter whether she’d managed to win him for a scene or not.

“No, thanks,” he replied easily. There was a chair in the room, but he sat on the bed. “Why don’t you come sit down next to me? You seem a little nervous.” He patted the space beside him, adding with one of those killer smiles of his, “You look terrific tonight, Abbie. I love the dress.”

It was a very hot dress, if she said so herself. She’d fallen in love with it the moment she’d seen it on her favorite online fetish-wear site. Made of the softest black leather, it hugged her breasts, the plunging neckline held together with a large metal O-ring. The cutouts on the sides showed her toned body to advantage. With nudity so commonplace on the island, it was almost sexier to wear the slinky, revealing dress and matching G-string. Her hair, which she normally wore back in a no-nonsense ponytail, hung loose down her back.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, smiling back at him. Though her knees itched to sink to the carpet before him, she obeyed his request to sit beside him, keenly aware of his thigh nearly touching hers.

“So,” Master Ryan said, fixing her with those soulful eyes, blue as the ocean on a sunny day. “What’s the plan for tonight’s scene?” He smelled good, like fresh soap with a hint of sea salt and orange. She wanted to nuzzle her nose against his neck and run her fingers through his thick, shiny hair.

Instead, she said, “I would like to be bound to the cross for a full body flogging. And then I’d like a bare-handed spanking over your lap.”

He smiled, his eyes again dancing with amusement. “And here I thought you were going to turn the tables tonight and have me on my knees. But from what you’re saying, you want me to be the Dom. The Master.”

My Master, she very nearly blurted. Catching herself in time, she only said, “Yes, Sir.”

He ran his eyes over her body, a dark, sexy look in his eyes. “All right, then,” he said slowly, still smiling. “That works for me. Stand up, strip and present yourself at the cross.”

Heart pulsing, Abbie got to her feet and reached back to unzip her dress. She stepped quickly out of it and hung it over the desk chair. Hooking her fingers in her G-string, she slipped it down her legs and placed it on the chair with the dress. A calmness settled over her as she assumed the position in front of the cross, posture erect, legs spread shoulder-width apart, fingers laced behind her head.

She watched with hungry eyes as Master Ryan rose and moved toward her. Staring into her eyes, he ran his hands lightly down her sides, sending a shiver of pure desire through her body. “Where’s your flogger?”

“In the wardrobe, Sir,” she replied breathlessly.

He went to the wardrobe and pulled open the double doors. “Nice collection,” he said, his eyes moving over the whips, sex toys, cuffs and rope neatly arrayed on the shelves. He took the flogger from its spot, along with her leather wrist and ankle cuffs, the clips already attached.

Returning to her, he said, “Are you ready to suffer for me, slave Abbie?”

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, butterflies flitting madly in her belly.

He moved closer, his breath warm and sweet against her cheek as he stared into her soul. His lips parted ever so slightly, his eyelids hooding.

He’s going to kiss me!