Three Strikes (Desire Island 3)

He instantly visualized Abbie in the kennel cage on her hands and knees, her bare ass pressed against the bars to receive his whip or his cock, as it pleased him. Shifting his gaze, he mentally placed her in the strap cage, her breasts poking through the leather, her nipples clamped as she swayed in its confines. After all, cages needn’t be only for punishment. The delicious, diabolical possibilities were endless.

“Strike one,” he said suddenly, testing her. “The cane. Your choice of which one.”

Abbie rose at once to her feet and moved toward the cane rack. She selected a cane of medium thickness, its handle wrapped in dark red suede. She placed it in her mouth as a dog might hold a bone and dropped to all fours. Though he hadn’t specifically directed that she crawl, he quite liked the submissive gesture. He admired the lovely sway of her breasts and hips as she glided toward him, her long, shiny red hair falling over her face and shoulders like a shimmering flame.

As she reached him, Ryan took the cane from her mouth. “Stay on your knees, ass offered to me,” he commanded.

Abbie at once pivoted and lowered her head to the floor, arms extended in front of her, face hidden, her pretty little bottom in the air. Ryan bent down and slipped his hand between her legs. She was already wet, as she should be. Perfect.

Pulling away his hand, he said, “Your first mark, slave Abbie.” He whipped the cane down, catching both cheeks with the side of the rattan rod.

Abbie remained still as a statue. “Thank you, Sir,” she gasped.

A long, white line appeared on her ass, changing quickly to pink and then red. Ryan bent forward and ran his fingers lightly over the welt, pleased with his handiwork.

He was eager to see if the cane’s stroke had made her even wetter. “Cunt exam,” he said, using the island terminology for one of the standard slave examination positions.

“Yes, Sir.”

Placing her feet flat on the floor, she bent her knees and let her thighs fall open. Reaching for her cunt, she spread it with her fingers, giving him an excellent view of the dark pink folds and the small, hooded nub of her clit.

Crouching in front of her, he ran the pad of his thumb along her labia. He could smell the alluring, musky scent of her arousal. Moving his thumb toward her center, he pushed it gently into her tight opening. She was sopping wet, and he was well pleased.

On an impulse, he said, “Make yourself come for me, slave.”

To his surprise, a tide of red rolled up her neck and headed for her cheeks, while her fingers remained frozen on either side of her cunt. He waited, confused at her failure to obey immediately. Nudity and sexuality were as natural as breathing on Desire Island. What was she waiting for? And why was she blushing like a school girl?

~*~

Abbie felt like Cinderella when the prince had discovered that the crystal slipper belonged to her. Talk about a fairy tale! She’d been cleared for a full week off, to be spent in the Master’s cottage with the man she’d coveted for over a year.

The thought of bearing his marks and striving to earn his collar thrilled her deep in her bones. This was what she’d been born for—what she’d been waiting for all her life.

She was more than ready to serve, to suffer, to please. But she hadn’t expected this particular command. Damn it—how had he managed to home in on the single most difficult task he could have given her?

He was watching her, waiting, a slight frown tugging at his mouth.

Ordering her right hand to obey, Abbie placed her fingers over her clit and rubbed in a circle. She could do this. She could totally do this. After all, she did it all the time alone in her bed, with this very man the center and focus of her sexual fantasies. And now he was standing over her, no longer a fantasy but a reality. It should be a piece of cake. Even easier than when she was alone.

Slipping a finger inside, she stroked herself a moment and then returned to her clit. The welt on her ass throbbed pleasantly. She wore Master Ryan’s silk collar around her neck. He was going to train and use her, to discipline and teach her. He would bind her in lovely rope, whip her until she flew, allow her to worship and care for every inch of his beautiful, perfect body. He would hold her in his arms as they drifted into post-coital sleep…

She rubbed harder, visualizing Master Ryan straddling her chest as he slid his cock down her throat. As he thrust in and out of her mouth, she would yield completely, allowing him to control her breathing, to use her as a vessel for his pleasure.