The Island: Caroline

"Yes, Sir." She crossed his office to the door that led to his personal living quarters. So few were allowed in his inner sanctum.

She waited. She wondered if he had already fucked Greta or if her punishment had taken all that time. She didn't like the image of him with her. She didn't like the image of him with anyone.

//////

He liked her blow job. His praise was like a drug; she craved it. She would do anything for more of Sir's words of approval.

"I want your pussy," he said.

She lay back on that strange couch. The butt plug didn't hurt anymore. No, it was doing something else entirely now. Jolts of desire passed through her pelvis every time she contracted those muscles. If the butt plug felt this good, what would Sir's cock be like? Oh, the anticipation!

He planted his elbows to either side of her and plunged into her, pumping his cock in and out of her pussy hard and fast. She reached up to him, ran her fingers through his hair, tried to pull his face down to hers. He resisted.

"Please!" she cried, and she didn't know what she was asking for, but his thrusting slowed and his lips met hers and she nearly wept.

"Your ass now," he rasped. His voice was husky and low, his eyes filled with his desire for her. She turned over willingly, eager to give him what she'd never given anyone else.

He worked the butt plug out, pushed his cock in. So fast! She shrieked with the pain.

"Breathe," he said.

The pain ebbed. He thrust gently now. Perhaps he hadn't meant to hurt her like that. Maybe he, too, was overcome.

He had brought her just to the edge of coming, and she ached for release. Her hands gripped the cushions so tightly, she didn't think she could move. She didn't know if he'd let her touch herself.

His hands slid up her sides and then under. He pinched her nipples, rolled them between his fingers even as the pace of his fucking increased. She yelled again, this time out of passion, not pain. Her hands and feet tingled.

The orgasm took her breath away. She had never come like that. Never. She lay panting, reliving, in awe.

Sir withdrew, knelt beside her head, brushed hair from her face. "You will be one of the best," he murmured, and kissed her cheek.

//////

Sir joined her in his bedroom. She was leaning against the edge of his bed, legs crossed, dress pulled up high enough to show the tops of her thigh-highs. He shut the door.

"Why are you different, Caroline?" he asked. "Why are so few like you?"

She didn't want conversation. And he had asked her this many times. She had no better answer for him now than she had that last day, when he'd begged her not to leave him. Sir, begging!

"Because I love you," she said. It was so simple. And he knew this already. Why now? Why again?

"All my girls love me. Even Greta will come to love me."

Caroline shook her head. She was one of the few women on this Island who could contradict Sir without fear. "They don't love you. Not like I do. They are in awe. They are afraid of you. They live to please you because they fear you. I'm not afraid of you, Sir. And I never was."

Sir nodded and leaned against the door, eyes focused on some point behind her. She went to him, pulled his face down to hers.

"You're the only one who has ever done that," he said, before allowing their lips to meet. He opened his mouth, drew her tongue in, kissed her so tenderly.

She loved him too hard, and she would never really have him. There would always be a new girl. She brought them to him. Two a month, unending streams of girls, here for a year, then gone again.

Except Caroline.

There were a few others who stuck around, but none had stayed just for Sir.

"Sir, I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I don't want you only when you have time for me. I'll stay. I'll keep finding you your girls, but I want to go downstairs now." She was the only woman on this Island who could refuse Sir without fear.

"You..." He sighed. "I knew this would come."

She nodded. "Maybe this new girl, Amy? Maybe she'll be the one you want."

"Maybe. Do you think so?"

Caroline shrugged. "She reminds me of myself."

* * *

'Pierre really is a decent guy,' she thought. She watched him boot up his computer, push his glasses up his nose.

"Where are you from, Pierre?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, Toronto. What about you?"

"New Jersey. Did you hear back from Alex yet?"

He checked his phone. "Yeah. He says, 'Good choice. Very interesting girl.' Hey, what did Sir want you for last night?"

"Oh, just - there's a new guy, Jeremy. I gave him a tour." She would not be sad. It was better this way. Free of Sir, she could do her job. She could even leave. "If you could leave, where would you go?" she asked.

"I can leave. I don't want to. I like it here. It's warm." He chuckled.

"Right. Pierre, you wanna fuck?"

"Sorry?"

She rephrased. "After work, you want to come to my room?"

"What - eh - what?"

She laughed. "You're too decent."

"Are you joking? I can't tell."

She shook her head. "Come to my room tonight. 7:00. We can have dinner."

"Sure. Sounds nice."

"Cool." She put her hand on his, just briefly, then got to work.

"I, er - will you tell me what goes on downstairs?"

"I'll show you." She grinned.

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