The Island: Caroline Pt. 02

Author's Note: This is one of several short stories in a series called "The Island." All stories take place in the same secret island resort, where women come to serve as sex slaves for a year, under the control of a man known only as "Sir."

All characters are over 18. All places, characters, and stories are completely fictional. Sexual slavery and human trafficking are real, serious problems, and rape and kidnapping are illegal.

The following story is a sequel to "The Island: Caroline." I recommend reading that one first.

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That girl would be here now. Sir would be with her, fucking her, pushing her to her limits, showering her with praise.

Caroline never cared this much when a new girl arrived. There was always a new girl, and Sir always kept her with him and did all the same things that he'd done with Caroline when she'd stepped out of that elevator for the first time. If it always bothered her this much, she would have had to leave long ago.

But this was different.

Because this time, Caroline knew she'd brought in her own replacement. She'd tried to push Sir out of her mind, had actually pushed him away, and had found this girl to take her place in Sir's heart.

Why?

Because she couldn't take it anymore, knowing that as much as she wanted him all to herself, he'd always have some other girl in there with him. He had his pick. All he had to do was snap his fingers, or send a message, and in minutes whichever girl he wanted would be in his office, dropping to her knees.

And she had only him. When he had time for her. And he snapped his fingers for her less and less often.

It had to be done, but it tore her apart. And worse was knowing that he would move on, and she couldn't. Who could possibly replace him in her life?

A knock at her door brought her out of her private pity party. That would be Pierre. Hopefully with copious amounts of alcohol.

"Come in!" she called, and went out to the living room to greet him.

He came in, wearing a suit and tie - where had he gotten a suit and tie? - and carrying an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels and two pints of ice cream. Good man.

"You seemed down," he said. "Cookie dough or fudge?"

"Both."

"That bad?" He set the bottle down on her dining table and took the ice cream to the kitchen. "Bowls, or straight from the carton?"

"You know me too well," she said. They'd only been dating two months, or maybe it was just fucking, but she really did enjoy his company, and he really did seem to understand her. "Unless you want some?"

He opened the cartons and brought them and a spoon to the table. "Far be it for me to help you eat your feelings." He smiled to take the sting out of the words. "What are you so upset about anyway?" He opened the bottle and went to retrieve glasses from the kitchen.

"That girl."

"Which?" Ice clinked in the glasses, and he poured generously.

"The new one. She just got here."

"Why is that upsetting? You don't usually get this morose. Usually you're proud of your find."

So maybe he didn't understand everything about her. But that wasn't his fault. "Did you read Andrew's report?"

"No. I don't usually bother."

"Me neither, but I did this time. She's perfect, Pierre. He had to almost make up reasons to punish her. She's that good."

"Is that unusual? What do you mean he had to make up reasons?"

She sighed. "I guess you don't really know how it works. You just find the girls, pass along the message, and put your nose back in the data. But that was me once, you know?"

"So enlighten me." He sipped at his whiskey.

She hesitated. "I don't think I should."

"Why?"

She dug into the ice cream, cookie dough first, to give herself time to think. "Well, maybe you don't really want to know."

"You brought it up," he said.

"Okay, fine. So the agents, they meet the girl and tell her that Sir will help her out, but first she has to serve for a year. They don't tell her what she'll be doing. That's the catch, see? She agrees, and they take her to a hotel room and make her take off her clothes. Some will do it without a problem, and others will have to be, um, coerced. Then they get on the plane and bring her here, and on the plane they ask her questions to fill in any gaps we have in her sexual history. And then they make her masturbate in front of at least one of them, and they film it for Sir."

Pierre had stopped with his drink halfway to his mouth and was staring at her. "Why didn't I know this?"

"Wait. There's more. So they get here, and she's butt naked, and they send her in to meet Andrew. He takes her on a little tour, kind of breaks her in, right? She gets shown off to the guests a bit, and then he takes her to the bar and has her give a guest a blow job. Just like that, no warning, no training. And then she goes up to Sir."

He tossed back what was left in his glass and coughed. "And she does all of this?"

"Well, that's the thing, see. Most won't. I mean, really, would you expect them to? So whenever she balks or refuses, that goes in Andrew's report, which he gives to Sir to decide on her first punishment. Sometimes it's bad enough that he or Mac have to punish her in the bar. Sometimes the agents already had to punish her in the hotel room or on the plane, depending on how uncooperative she is. Eventually, they get her to do what she's told, and then when she gets up to Sir, he'll do a formal punishment. Sort of an indoctrination, I guess."

"When you say punishment..."

"Spanking, flogging, hitting with a riding crop, whatever is needed."

"Right." He looked a bit green. She poured him some more whiskey.

"You didn't know any of this?"

"Some I've pieced together, but it's a bit more intense than I had thought. So then, this girl is unusual? How so?"

"Because. She did everything they told her. Andrew put in that she hesitated a little before giving the blow job. Sir will probably give her, I don't know, 10 lashes for that. Basically nothing. Most of the time, he wouldn't bother marking down a slight hesitation, but she hadn't done anything else wrong."

"Then why put anything down at all?"

"Because she has to be punished! Right away! She has to know what to expect, and why it's better to obey." She shoveled more ice cream into her mouth.

"I still don't understand why you're upset, though. If she's so good, you should be proud to have chosen her."

"Dammit, Pierre. Because she's me, but better! I was spanked on the plane. I was flogged in Sir's office. But not her!"

"Is it some kind of competition?"

She sighed. She couldn't tell him how she craved Sir's attention, how she would throw herself at his feet if he asked her to, how if this girl was better, then Sir wouldn't need Caroline anymore. "No. It's not. I guess, maybe I'm jealous."

"Why?"

A tear escaped her control. This was so stupid! She'd given him up! "I don't know!"

He took the cartons of ice cream from her and put them in the freezer. She drank the rest of her whiskey. "Come here," he said. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet, then enfolded her in his arms.

"You're so sweet," she mumbled. "This is so dumb. I'm sorry. Maybe it's just all the memories. I'm too invested in this one." She turned her face up toward him. "I don't know if that makes sense."

"As long as it makes sense to you," he said. He kissed her, one hand supporting the back of her head, the other around her waist, holding her close.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss, hoping to put Sir and the new girl out of her thoughts. Pierre's style was so different from Sir's. Sir possessed; Pierre treasured.

He pulled away. "Better?"

"Almost." She inclined her head toward the bedroom door. "Let's go in there." She didn't wait for a response, just crossed to the door and flung herself onto the bed. He followed, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie. "What's with the suit, anyway?" she asked.

"I was trying to impress you. Did it work?"

She laughed. "Impressed, bewildered, amused? You do look handsome, though."

He smiled. "Good enough." He took off the jacket, unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, and joined her on the bed.

She straddled him and lifted her shirt up over her head, then bent to kiss him again. Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt while his unhooked her bra and then cupped her breasts. Their tongues wrapped around each other, his thumbs teased her nipples, fingertips grazed her sides. He had such deliciously long fingers and such a light touch. A delightful shiver coursed through her.

He sat up enough to take off his shirt, and she moved lower, to his belt. She unbuckled it, opened his fly, then crawled backward and pulled his pants off. She shimmied out of her skirt, dropped her bra, and then resumed her position, dangling a breast into his mouth so he could suck on it. He nibbled, tongued, then sucked her nipple deep into his mouth.

"Oh, that's good," she groaned. He kneaded her other breast, tugging on the nipple. His other hand slipped into her panties and found her clit. Her mood improved by leaps and bounds with the slow stroking of his finger.

A knock at her door startled Caroline.

"Just ignore it," Pierre said. He pushed her back so she could free his cock.

Another knock, more insistent.

"Someone's looking for me, I guess," Caroline said.

"Who?"

"I don't know! You're the only one who comes here." Now more knocking, with the "Shave and a Haircut" pattern. Seriously? She sighed. "I don't think they're going away." She climbed off of him and rummaged in her closet for a robe. "Sorry. Hopefully it'll be quick."

She jogged out to the living room, tying her robe securely, and pulled the door open. Her breath caught. It was Sir.

He had never once, in all the years she'd been on the Island, visited her room. Not when she was a service girl. Not when she was on Voluntary Status. And certainly not since moving into Recruitment.

But here he was, standing in her doorway. While she was in the middle of having sex with someone else.

"Sir?" she squeaked. She hadn't meant to squeak, but that's how it came out.

"She's perfect!"

Sir was very reserved, but Caroline could see barely contained excitement dancing in his eyes. "What?"

"The new girl, Amy. She's wonderful. I had to tell you."

"Sir, I don't - why are you in my apartment?" She had finally, finally managed to stop thinking about that girl, about Sir, about all of it, and now he was here, practically jumping up and down, shoving it down her throat.

He stepped through the door and pressed the palm of his hand to her cheek. She leaned into his touch. 'Dammit, Caroline!' she thought. But she couldn't back away. "You picked her. I wanted you to know. She's the best one in years. She's with a client. Her second day, and she's with a client."

"Oh. Well, that's great. Thank you for telling me."

He bent to kiss her on the forehead. She struggled with herself, thought of Pierre waiting for her in her bed. "Can I give you something?" Sir asked. "A reward? Call it a finder's fee."

There was only one thing she wanted from Sir, and he'd made it clear a very long time ago that she'd never get it. She fought back tears. "No, thank you Sir. I don't need anything." 'Except you,' she added silently.

"Please, Caroline."

///////

"Well, do you want to go to school? Buy a house? Take a trip around the world?"

Indecision and fear tied knots in Caroline's stomach. "I don't know! I don't know." When she'd first arrived, and even as recently as a week ago, she couldn't have imagined how difficult it would be to leave. But now that the moment had arrived, she had no idea what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go. Her whole world had become the Island, and she didn't remember what it was like to fend for herself.

"You can stay here," Sir said. He'd said it a few times already. He'd said it a few weeks ago, when she'd served him, and he'd said it again a few nights ago, when he'd brought her up for one final reward, and he'd said it again when they started this meeting. "Stay here, Caroline. Go on Voluntary Status."

She wanted to stay, but she couldn't believe that she'd want to stay, to continue to let men fuck her however they wanted, to give countless more blow jobs and have dozens more cocks in her. But if she stayed, she'd still be near Sir. And if she left, she'd never see him again. "I can't stay," she said. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Please, Caroline. Please stay here." Sir never said please. He didn't have to. He couldn't. He rose from his chair, rounded his desk to her side, pulled her up by the hands. "Please stay." He kissed her, and suddenly his argument held a lot more weight.

"But if I'm Voluntary, I'll still be serving clients. Why would you want that? Can't I just stay with you?"

"It's not possible."

"But why?" She would do it. She would be only his. But he didn't want that, and she didn't understand.

Pain in his eyes, staring beyond her, into the past, a memory maybe. "It's not possible," he repeated. "You have to serve clients, and I have to train girls. It's the only way."

"But how do you know?" She could share him. Maybe. If she knew it was just about the training, that he didn't love them all the way he loved her. She could, if it meant he would always come back to her.

"I just know. It's better this way. Stay anyway." He kissed her again, hands on either side of her face. She twined her fingers in his hair, held his lips against hers, tried to imagine a life where she would never be touched by him again, and she couldn't. She couldn't leave.

His hands dropped to her sides, caressed up her ribs to her breasts. She moaned against his mouth and tears streamed down her face. He kissed her jawline, her neck, then pulled away.

"I'll stay," she said.

Sir sagged, his confidence, his dominance, melting away, just for an instant. He recovered. "Come," he murmured.

He led her to his bedroom, to his bed, pushed her back against his pillows. He propped himself on his elbows over her, his body just touching hers, his clothing brushing against her bare skin. He flicked his tongue down her neck, to the hollow of her throat, then her left nipple. She wanted him now. Her pussy throbbed, her body quivered, and he seemed determined to keep her on edge for as long as he could.

He teased her right nipple with his thumb and forefinger, pulled her left nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. She pressed herself up to him, desperate, begging.

He hopped off the bed and shed his clothing, then climbed up between her legs. She closed her eyes. He ran his hands up her inner thighs, spread her labia with his thumbs. Sex with Sir was always mind-blowing, but it was rare for him to be so giving. He circled her clit with his tongue until she bucked her hips into his face and yelled, switched to leisurely up-and-down strokes, and slithered two fingers into her pussy.

"Oh fuck," she cried. "Oh please." Her thighs trembled, hands opened and closed.

He chuckled. He attacked her G-spot with his fingertips, his tongue moved faster, and finally she was there, back arching, thighs clamping around his head. He freed himself and adjusted his position so he could sink his cock into her. He held still, savoring, and kissed her lips. "I love you," he murmured.

She knew that, but she knew he loved all his girls. She only needed to hear that he loved her more, wanted her more, than all the rest.

He began to thrust, fast and hard, like he had the first time, passionate and possessive. She braced herself with her hands on his shoulders and drew her knees in, surrendering to him as she always did, as she wanted to, as she had to. The decision was made, and she knew it was the right one, because how could she ever have considered leaving?

He came with a groan, kissed her again, then withdrew. He lay beside her and pulled her close. "Stay with me tonight," he said. It wasn't a request.

"Always," she said.

///////

"Sir, I really don't need anything. I'm glad she's working out so well," Caroline said, hoping she was hiding her grief well enough. Sir could practically read minds sometimes.

He kissed her forehead. "Please. I want to." He sighed. "I miss you."

How she wished he hadn't said that! She met his eyes, but he was staring past her, toward the bedroom. Pierre! She turned and saw Pierre with one hand on the door jamb. He'd put his pants on but was shirtless. He cleared his throat. "Uh, hello Sir," he said.

Sir stepped back, away from Caroline. Her head swiveled from one man to the other. Their expressions were identical: confusion, sadness, jealousy.

"Pierre, isn't it?" Sir said, not the least bit friendly.

"Yes, Sir."

Caroline trembled. "I'm sorry," she said, though she wasn't sure to whom.

Sir's eyes flicked back to her. "Is this why you wanted to be free of me?" She'd heard that tone before, and she'd hoped then never to hear it again. "Because you wanted someone else?"

"No! I didn't - not until after we - that night." Sir didn't own her anymore. He hadn't for a long time. But her instinct was always to appease, always to calm, and she couldn't this time.

"You should have left, Caroline." Sir spun on his heel and strode out of her apartment, pulling the door closed behind him.

Pierre came up behind her. "I think I understand why you were upset this evening," he said. "You could have just told me." He swept past her and out the door, carrying his clothes.

She stood, staring at the door, numb. She should run after Pierre, but Sir's words had ripped her to shreds. She hadn't meant for Pierre to get caught up in this. She'd tried to make it all go away.

Two months! She'd broken away from Sir two months ago. Had he been stewing all this time, looking for an excuse to talk to her, sure he could still have her when he wanted, sure she couldn't - wouldn't - say no? He couldn't believe she would really reject him, because she was still here, on the Island.

But if the new girl was so great, then why did he care if Caroline was with someone else? Maybe it was just that he couldn't bear the thought that Caroline might want someone else, even if she didn't want him.

The trouble was, now that she'd seen him again, her first impulse was to go up to his office and try to win him back. It was ludicrous. She'd thought she'd successfully banished him from her heart, but seeing him now stirred up everything she'd tried to bury.

The obvious thing to do was to leave. She could collect her earnings - and they were substantial by now, after her year of service, her five years on Voluntary, another year in Recruitment. She had given Sir seven years of her life, to be left with what? Cash? She had nothing! After seven years living on the Island, she didn't remember how to live anywhere else, how to go grocery shopping, pay bills, drive, even interact with regular people. She had no one to go home to, no place to call home besides the Island, this apartment, this strange job she'd found herself doing.

She trudged back to her bedroom and flung herself face-down into her pillows.

///////

"Did you want to see me, Paul?" Caroline asked.

"Shut the door. You know why you're here." Paul unbuckled his belt. "You got two choices, Carrie." She hated that nickname. "Return the money, or find another way to pay me back." He sat on the edge of his desk.

It was only $10, just so she could get some lunch. She was going to pay it back the very next day, after she got paid, but her bills had wiped out her paycheck, and Paul had found the $10 discrepancy in her drawer, and now he wanted that back with interest or she'd be fired.

He pulled his belt from its loops. "I could have you arrested, you know. But it doesn't seem worth all that trouble over 10 bucks. Assuming it's only happened the one time?"