Island Slave Ch. 02

She curled up on her bed and tried to ignore the feelings that had been awoken in her. Memories flooded her mind, memories of sex; very enjoyable sex with Quinn. His hands caressing her body, sending waves of pleasant feelings washing over her. His cock, large and hard in her hands, the precum sliding all over it. The feeling of her cunt being penetrated and taken, her body held tight in his grip as she shuddered in climax. Try as she might, she could not turn the flood of images off.

It had been two weeks since she had had sex. Never before had this been an issue. Carla had gone over a year without sex before and never experienced the burning need she was suffering from now. She did not understand what made now so different. Why was the mere absence of sex leaving her so frustrated now when much longer periods had never done so in the past? Her fingers had never been enough for her. She cried as she realized that Quinn might be right. She may well turn to him.

That night, Carla missed dinner, unwilling to show herself aroused in front of the others, especially Quinn. Her sleep was fitful, plagued by dreams; disturbing dreams. In one of her dreams, she found herself looking for Quinn, searching for him throughout the mansion. She was naked and chained, her wrist cuffs to her collar by three foot chains of small steel links, lying on the bed. There was an ache in her cunt, an emptiness that had become unbearable. As she looked for him, her arousal grew. Carla's hands tugged at the chains that prevented her from touching herself. She could smell her pussy, wet and dripping. As her search for Quinn continued, her desperation grew. She moaned as she walked, her very steps turning her on even more.

She found him outside, talking to one of the workers for the plantation. Humiliation burned her flesh as she noted the lustful leer the worker shot her way. She walked up to Quinn. "Quinn, please."

"Not now, Carla. I'm busy."

A groan escaped her lips. "Please. I need you so much."

"Carla! Go back inside the house. Wait for me in my study."

Carla went back inside to his study. She tried to sit in a chair, but the sensations on her pussy were driving her wild with lust. Pacing was no better. When her legs rubbed together, she not only felt her arousal grow, sending goose bumps all over her, she could hear her thighs moving together through the juices that coated them. The only position that seemed to offer any relief was kneeling with her legs spread apart. She stayed aroused, but didn't get any worse.

It seemed like hours before he came to her. He stood in the doorway, looking upon her kneeling form, open for his viewing pleasure. His smile sent tingles through her body. She looked up at his face, desire naked in her expression. Carla raised her chained hands up.

"Please Quinn. I need you. Please."

"What do you want, Carla?"

"Make love to me, Quinn. Make these feelings go away. I can't take it any more."

Quinn walked up to her. He took her hands in his, pulling her to her feet. He pressed her hands against her own breasts, rubbing the nipples with the back of her hands. Carla gasped and tried to pull her hands away.

"No, my darling one. We can do this my way or you can go back to your room to suffer."

A tear crept down her cheek as she stopped resisting and let Quinn have his way. Her hands were at her own breasts again. Carla was whimpering at the increase of arousal this caused her. Her body was trembling with need. When his hands released hers, Carla looked up, pleading with her eyes. His hands roamed across her body, dragging sensations out of her she had no concept she was capable of. Her feet became unsteady and Quinn had to hold onto her to keep her from falling.

Holding her body against his, he caressed her back while pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. Against her will, Carla's mouth responded, opening up and inviting his tongue inside. Her mouth seemed to have become an erogenous zone, every contact with his tongue sending sparks through her body. Carla realized that she was weeping and moaning while her hands cupped her breasts and pinched at the nipples. She could feel little rivulets of juice, or was it perspiration, running down her legs. She was humping against his body, telling him what she so desperately needed.

Quinn's hands moved to her shoulders and pressed downward. Unsupported, Carla had no choice but to sink to her knees, her face staring at the bulge in his pants. Tilting her head up, she saw a look of lust in his eyes. Cowering beneath him, she undid his pants, freeing the erect cock contained there in. Precum glistened on the head. Carla ran her hands along the length, enraptured at the throbbing she caused. She cupped his balls, squeezing gently. One hand caressed his cock while the other massaged his balls. His moans were like music to her ears.

His precum seemed to multiply and soon she was running a slick penis through her fist. She brought her mouth lower and licked at his sac. She slowed her hand down at the jerk this caused. Holding his cock still in her hands, she sucked one of his balls into her mouth. After massaging it with her tongue, she let it slip out and drew the other in for a twin performance. When she released the second one, Quinn's hands reached down to grasp her head, guiding Carla's mouth to the tip of his cock.

Her tongue snaked out and caressed the tip, tasting the precum that was still oozing from it. Freeing his cock from her hands, she swiped her tongue along its length. The pressure on her head from his hands increased. She responded to this not so gentle hint and took him into her mouth. Her pussy protested that it should have this pleasure. Her mouth, greedy for its own pleasure, ignored the aching need from below and caressed the cock in it. Carla sucked on Quinn's cock, wrapped her tongue around it as much as she was able. She took him deep, letting him hit the back of her throat.

When he came, he forced himself all the way in and held himself there, his cum splashing against the back of her throat where it trickled down to be swallowed. Carla dared not breathe, lest she choke on the fluids that were making their way past her windpipe. When he finally pulled out of her mouth, she was shocked, and pleased, to find that he was still hard. He grasped her hands and roughly pulled her to her feet.

He dragged her to a light fixture that was on the wall, one of those decorative things that curved gracefully. Putting her hands on the metal, her ordered, "Don't let go, no matter what." Carla grasped the light as Quinn sank to his knees, his face brought level with her cunt.

When his tongue first touched her folds, she cried out loud. Her legs opened of their own accord, giving him better access. Each swipe of his tongue pulled a sound out of her; a mew, a gasp, a cry, a whimper. Carla's pussy was on fire, a fire that spread quickly to the rest of her body. She was trembling again, her need rendering her helpless. Soon she had taken most of her weight on her arms and was leaning back against the wall. When his tongue left her cunt, she whispered, "Please, please."

Quinn stood, and in one fluid motion, impaled his cock in Carla's pussy. He captured her screams with his mouth as he plunged into her again and again. Carla bucked back against him, driving herself towards her long awaited orgasm. All felt right with the world, her cunt filled at last, her body being ravished, being taken like a slut. As her climax began to wash over her, she awoke from her dream.

Carla woke up screaming, the dream fuck vivid in her mind. She was damp everywhere, with sweat, saliva and pussy juice. The aching emptiness in her cunt was stronger than ever. She was vaguely aware of a knocking a her door.

"Yes. Who is it?"

"It is Bonita, miss. Breakfast will be ready in an hour."

"Thank you."

Carla realized that she could not bear the thought of appearing before anyone in her current state. Back home, she would have taken a cold shower. The mansion had no showers, only baths. There being nothing for it, she ran a cold bath, spending the time it filled, psyching herself for the unpleasant plunge that was coming. Every movement was torture, as she was more aroused now than when she had fallen asleep. Once the tub was full, she sat on the edge of the large marble bath for a minute, and then slid herself in, stifling the scream that tried to erupt from her.

As she sat in the cold water teeth chattering, she sighed with relief at the success. Her arousal had vanished in a burst of intense cold. She quickly lathered where she could reach and finished her bath in record time. In the more than two weeks she had been collared like this, she learned that the collar and cuffs were not affected in any way by being immersed in water. As she combed her hair, she was struck by a feeling of loss. It took several minutes to realize that she missed the arousal. No matter, she was certain it would return, probably faster than she wanted.

When she reached the breakfast table, Quinn was missing. "Where is Quinn?" she asked.

Miss, Master Quinn had a problem come up on the plantation. He will not be here for breakfast."

Breathing a disappointed sigh of relief, Carla ate her breakfast and pondered what to do. She didn't feel like reading today. Instead, she ventured into parts of the mansion that were unused. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, she was startled at the layers of dust she found. It seemed that Bonita did not venture up here to clean. She looked over the railing to see the maid looking up at her with a strange look on her face, possibly of trepidation.

"Bonita?"

"Yes, miss."

"Do you never come up here?"

"No, miss. It is forbidden."

"For me as well?"

"I... I'm not certain miss Carla. I can't go upstairs or down to the basement."

"Why not?"

"I can't say, miss."

Carla turned back to the hall at the top of the stairs. Her curiosity was piqued. There was a mystery here and Carla was determined to solve it. Looking down at her feet, she saw that the dust had quickly left her feet a mess. A bath would be needed if there was to be any exploring. Taking a deep breath, and sneezing at the effort, she walked down the hall to a set of double doors.

When she pushed them open, she was struck first by the darkness. Even though this room should have an eastern facing, there was no trace of sunlight. Or, rather there was, just barely outlining heavy drapes that shielded a large picture window, if the size of the drapes was to be believed. The second thing she noticed was the dust. Inside the room there was even more dust than there was on the balcony and hall (she would later learn that Bonita swept the hall twice a year when Quinn was away on a business trip).

Once her eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, she saw that there seemed to be no lights, at least no electric lights in the room. She did see an oil lamp sitting on a table. She could not make out enough details to tell what the room had been used for. It did have a 'crowded' feel to it. Carla shuffled to the lamp and found, no surprise here, that it was empty. Taking the lamp with her, she backed out and shut the doors behind her.

Carla never was able to explain why she shut the door again. It just seemed the thing to do. She had a sense of privacy in that large room, privacy that should be invaded with care. She carried the lamp to Quinn's study. There, she knew, he had an oil lamp that he used for decoration. A quick search revealed the location of his oil supply. She filled the lamp and left it to sit on the dining room table so that the wick, a long length of canvas, could soak up enough oil to work properly. While it sat there, she sought out Bonita.

"Bonita? Where are your cleaning supplies?"

"What needs cleaning miss? There is no need to bother yourself with anything like that."

Carla had not yet gotten used to the strange mix of decorum and respect for her privacy that was mixed with her full time nudity and captivity. Other than her lack of clothing and inability to leave, Carla was treated as an honored guest in the mansion. She had lost the ability to remain angry at Juan, Bonita and Carlos. It was as if they were simply doing their jobs, one of which was to keep her captive, yet comfortable.

"It's upstairs, Bonita."

"Please, miss Carla, I can't clean up there."

"I'm not asking you to. I will do it myself."

"Miss, Master Quinn will be so angry."

"Then let him be angry at me. If he doesn't want me prying into the upstairs, he can let me go. I won't live in a house that has such filth in it."

Bonita's eyes widened in horror. "Please, don't say that where he can hear you."

"What is it, Bonita?"

"I cannot say. I just cannot. Please do not hurt Master Quinn."

Carla realized in a flash, that this was the third time she had seen or heard of pain in Quinn's life. Maria had mentioned a great loneliness. She had seen pain in his face at the mention of his mother in the library. Now Bonita was pleading for Quinn to not be hurt, and it was clear from her face that she meant, not to hurt him again.

"Bonita. Quinn has hurt me. I don't want to hurt him, but I won't grieve if I do. He may force me to live the rest of my life here. I won't do that in ignorance. There's a secret, maybe more than one, upstairs. I can almost feel the ghosts grieving for something lost when I was up in one of the rooms. I intend to find that secret. And I can't do that if I sneeze with every step. So, where do you keep the cleaning supplies?"

Bonita sighed in resignation. "This way miss Carla." She led Carla to her supplies, letting the naked woman help herself

Carla filled a basket with rags and cleaner, took a Swifter duster and two boxes of sheets and a dust buster mini-vacuum. Back in Quinn's study, she added several bottles of lamp oil and went back upstairs with her one lamp lit. The first thing she did was to find and fill every lamp in every room. Two of the rooms were obviously bedrooms. The beds had no linen and the bathrooms were not connected to any modern facilities, both having wood stoves and a kettle for heating water. Most of the rooms were of indeterminate function, having been used for storage. The room that brought tears to her eyes was full of boxes, dozens of boxes. One box was open and revealed dust covered books.

She knew that she had found Quinn's mother's oversupply of books. The neglect that they had been subjected to was in direct opposition to the care that the library experienced. In her soul, Carla could feel pain, gut wrenching, soul tearing pain. Only that level of pain could explain the dichotomy between the two rooms full of books. It occurred to Carla that since Quinn had showed her the library, she had never seen him in it. She started her cleaning in this room.

Whatever the problem on the plantation was, it occupied Quinn for the entire week, seemingly from sun up to sun down. Her only awareness of her captor was hearing him go to bed in the late evening. The week passed slowly for Carla, yet seemed to not be long enough. She took her meals alone, covered from head to toe in dirt and dust. She limited her bathing to the end of the day, unwilling to lose any time from her self appointed task. Something, she was not sure what, was pushing her to finish the upstairs while she could. She hadn't been serious when she told Bonita about almost feeling the ghosts, but now she was not so sure. Something, or someone, kept telling her that this needed to be done, and quickly.

She was happy to discover that, except for the open box of books, the boxes were sealed tight with duct tape. While the boxes themselves were covered in dust, there was no sign that the dust had gotten inside. She resisted the temptation to open them before she had finished cleaning. She was reminded of her first job when she was just 15 years old. She had, through her father, been hired on at a cleaning service. The manager, irked at having to hire a, "snotty nosed, teenage brat," gave her all the worst jobs. She would come home each night, filthy with the dirt from public restrooms and a coffee processing line, and spend an hour in the shower trying to feel clean. Washing the accumulated dust out of her hair was almost as hard as removing the coffee grounds had been.

On the seventh day, after having taken an extra half hour to finish the last room, Carla was late to dinner,. Expecting to find she would go hungry, she was surprised to see Quinn still at the table. They stared at each other for over a minute. Quinn was shocked at her appearance. Carla was embarrassed by it. Quinn recovered first.

"What happened to you, Carla?"

"I was doing a little cleaning," she understated.

"Since when do you do Bonita's job? No, where did you find so much...?" His voice trailed off as his head lifted towards the ceiling. His face blanched as he realized where she had been. A single whisper escaped his lips. "No." He turned his gaze back towards her. Carla met his eyes and did not flinch. "Don't go up there again," he ordered.

"I'll go where I please, unless you intend to take these," she shook her cuffs at him, "even further. I will know the man who keeps me prisoner."

"Why do you care?"

"Three weeks ago, I went to bed with a man I thought I'd gotten to know. I was wrong. You're a stranger, Quinn. I know nothing about the real you. The only chance you have of fucking me again, is for me to know who you are and to like that person." Even as she said the words, she knew she was lying. In the short time she had been in his presence, the arousal she had banished for a week had returned. Her desire for his body, his touch, had resurfaced with a vengeance.

Quinn, pain etched in his face, rose and left. The brief pang of pity she felt was quickly squashed as she sat down to eat her dinner. She spent the evening after her bath, reading for the first time in a week. The next morning, Carla woke aroused. Her dreams eluded her this time, for which she was grateful. It wasn't a crippling level of arousal, merely the awareness that she wanted sex, sex with the hunk of a man who would be sitting across from her at breakfast. She took another cold bath, but knew that she would soon tire of this method of quenching her desire. Worse, it would soon stop having an effect.

As it was, the effect was short lived. By the end of breakfast, her nipples were erect and her pussy was showing the first glimmers of moisture. When she rose from her seat, Quinn put a hand up.

"Where are you going today?"

"I thought I'd see what the other vacant half of the mansion looked like." She pointed to the floor as she spoke.

"I'm afraid you'll find it in as bad of shape as the upstairs."

"Then I have another week of cleaning ahead of me."

"You're not going to honor a request to leave my past alone, are you?"

"Just as well as you've honored my requests for freedom."

"I'm going to have to replenish our cleaning supplies and lamp oil soon."

"Forgive me, but I haven't noticed any lack in this household. I'm sure you can afford it."

With that, Carla stalked off to find her lamp and supplies and explore the basement. Like the upstairs, the basement was overrun with dust, but added to that was a layer of oily grime that coated everything it touched. The rooms in the basement were larger, more spacious. The stairs descended into the largest room, an old fruit cellar, by the looks of it. There were patches of mold and mushrooms that she was sure were the remains of years old fruit and vegetables. Dead bugs seemed to litter the floor and cobwebs were visible in the ceiling rafters.

She spent the next two weeks cleaning the basement. Every morning, she woke with a pressing need for sex. She gave up on the cold baths, their effects not lasting through the morning meal. Quinn insisted she show up for meals clean, so she skipped lunch every day. In spite of her disgust for the conditions she found below, she enjoyed the quenching effect that such filth had on her body's desire for sex.