One True Master: Desire Island Series - Book 1

by Claire Thompson

  Almost without making the conscious decision, she clicked on a heart emoji and sent it.

  Someone knocked lightly on her door. With a guilty start, Skylar quickly dropped her phone in her purse and went to open the door.

  Shani was waiting for her. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  Shani led Skylar toward a large dining room set up with small tables laid with crisp white tablecloths and black linen napkins, crystal and silverware at the ready. Delicious aromas of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted from the room, making her mouth water. But instead of entering the dining room, Shani led her past it.

  Perplexed, Skylar asked, “Why didn’t we go in? I thought you said it was time for dinner.”

  “Oh, staff slaves and trainees aren’t permitted in the formal dining room without express permission. We have our own private space. We get the same fabulous food as everyone else. It’s actually a great chance to catch up with each other. You can relax and not worry about protocol or proper form.”

  She led Skylar through a pair of swinging doors into a large, bustling kitchen. It looked like any restaurant kitchen, with staff dressed in white scrubs, their hair pulled back in nets. There were only three of them, all busy at the various counters chopping, cooking and plating. The kitchen smelled heavenly, and Skylar’s stomach gurgled.

  A heavyset, balding man with twinkling blue eyes stood at the stove. He looked up as they entered. “There you are,” he said with a smile. He fixed his gaze on Skylar. There was no change in his expression, as if he didn’t even notice she was naked. “You must be the new trainee. I’m Henry, Desire Island’s executive chef. Welcome.”

  “Thanks,” Skylar replied, smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you. It smells amazing in here.”

  He beamed. “Hopefully, it tastes as good as it smells. We’re having roast beef tonight. Simple fare, prepared well. That’s my motto.” He waved toward a counter. “Your trays are ready there.”

  “Thanks, Henry,” Shani said. “I’m starving.”

  The trays each contained a glass of ice water and a plate piled high with roast beef, mashed potatoes and peas with mushrooms and tiny onions. There was also a steaming roll with a pat of butter beside it, along with a cloth napkin and some silverware.

  Shani picked up one of the trays and gestured with her chin for Skylar to do the same. Trays in hand, they continued on to a room just past the kitchen. To Skylar’s surprise, there was no table or chairs. Five people sat on large, flat cushions around the space, trays of food on their laps or beside them on the floor. There were two empty cushions. Conversation stopped and they all looked up as Shani and Skylar entered the room.

  “Everyone,” Shani said, smiling around the small room. “This is Skylar, our newest trainee.”

  Chapter 6

  Skylar pouted, a cute little line appearing between her eyebrows. “But I want—” she began.

  “Do you have permission to speak, slave?” Caelan interrupted, purposely cutting her off.

  She looked down. “No, Sir.”

  “If you speak out of turn again, I’ll gag you.” A sudden image of this lovely young woman with a red ball gag in her mouth, her eyes wide, her naked body stretched against a restraining rack, leaped into his mind. He shook away the image so he could concentrate.

  After dinner, he’d fetched Skylar from the staff slave dining room and led her to her bedroom. The rest of the staff was busily gearing up for the auction party, which would begin at nine, only thirty minutes from now. He’d just informed Skylar that she would not be attending, and it was clear she was pissed off about it.

  The twice-weekly slave auctions were fun, playful events held in the main dungeon and open to all guests and residents on the island. While Desire Island primarily functioned as a hedonistic playground for those in the BDSM scene, the slave training program was something else altogether.

  They had three trainees on the island at present, including Skylar, a twenty-something male sub named Ben and a woman in her mid-fifties called Janie who had been sent by her Master for a “tune-up.” Ella was handling Ben, who had nearly completed his ten-day stint, while Ryan had taken on Janie, who had arrived earlier in the week.

  “I know you want to go,” he said to Skylar. “And you will get to attend an auction before you leave the island, but not tonight. You’ve had a very long day, and you’re going to be up quite early in the morning.”

  A play of emotions skittered over her expressive face, from indignation to fury to grudging acceptance within the space of a few seconds. This sweet, sassy, untrained sub girl wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. She was used to finite, short scenes in a limited setting like a BDSM club, where she controlled and even dictated the action.

  Yet at the same time, he sensed her frustration with her self-imposed limitations. By keeping things on that kind of playful, casual level, she’d never allowed herself to experience the true submission he was sure she not only longed for, but needed.

  It was the flipside of his desire—his need—to possess a woman completely. The longing to master not only her body or even her heart, but her very soul. Yet he, too, had held himself back. Was his becoming a trainer his way of keeping his own emotional distance?

  “Yes, Sir,” she muttered in a bratty tone, not meeting his eyes.

  Caelan reached for her throat, circling it just above the collar with the span of his hand. Ignoring the twinge of arousal in his cock, he applied just enough pressure to get her full attention. “When you address me,” he said, adding iron to his tone, “you will look at my face and you will speak clearly and respectfully. Do you understand?”

  Color splashed her cheeks, her eyes widening, her breath a gasp beneath his grip. There was both genuine fear and unmistakable arousal in her expression. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, the attitude gone, her eyes fixed on him.

  He let her go. “That’s better. Remove your collar for sleeping. Make sure it’s back on in the morning before training resumes. You may go wash up now. I’ll wait here for you.”

  He retrieved a bottle of water from her mini fridge and set it on the nightstand while she took off the collar. “Leave the bathroom door open,” he called out as she stepped inside. The direction was an appropriate one for a 24/7 slave who was not permitted modesty or privacy unless it pleased her Master. But if he were honest, the real reason was so he could admire those long, slender legs and that lovely ass, the small cheeks round and firm, two adorable dimples just above the globes.

  Skylar came back into the bedroom a few minutes later. Caelan pulled back the coverlet to reveal the restraints coiled neatly at each corner. “You will sleep in chains to remind you of your position,” he informed her. Reaching over the bed, he picked up one of the nylon sleep cuffs attached to its chain and pulled open the Velcro closure to demonstrate. “These are easy to put on and take off. You can remove the restraints if you have to use the toilet in the middle of the night, but you must put them back in place when you return to bed.”

  He waved toward the bed. “Climb in.”

  Skylar lay on the bed, her blond hair fanning out over the pillow, her high, full breasts spread prettily against her chest. His palms actually itched with the desire to gently cup their sweet heft. Christ, this was going to be a long week.

  “Obviously, you’ll want to do your ankles first and then your wrists,” he said. “Go ahead. I’ll watch and let you know if there’s anything different you need to do.”

  She sat up and reached for the right ankle cuff. She placed it around her slender ankle and pressed the Velcro into place. She did the same with her left and then lay back, reaching for the left wrist cuff. Though it took longer single-handedly, she managed to get it on and closed. Finally, she reached for the right cuff, bringing the chain across her body as she used her now manacled hand to secure the final cuff. When she was done, she lay back down and flashed him a triumphant smile.

  “Good job,” he said. She looked so hot, tethered by
her own hand. He wanted to…

  Stop it! he ordered himself sternly.

  “Are you reasonably comfortable?” he asked in a stiff voice that sounded stilted to his ears.

  “Um, I think I’m okay, Sir,” she replied, her expression a little dubious.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he assured her. “Pull up the covers and get into whatever position you usually sleep in. I want to make sure there’s enough leeway in the chains.”

  She reached for the covers at the foot of the bed and pulled them up and over her naked body. Then she rolled to her right side and folded her bound hands under her cheek like a child. She closed her eyes, her long, thick lashes brushing her cheekbone.

  His voice came out husky and he cleared his throat. “I’ll be turning out your light now. There are nightlights in both the bedroom and bathroom that should be sufficient to see by. I hope you sleep well. See you in the morning.”

  ~*~

  Skylar rolled over onto her back and lifted her arms in front of her face. She stared at her bound wrists in the glow of the nightlight. The thought of sleeping every night in chains was both thrilling and bizarre in the extreme. Would she be able to fall asleep like this?

  She glanced at the small, glowing clock on the nightstand. It was only a little after nine, for heaven’s sake, and she was already tucked into bed like a little kid. That rankled, but at the same time, she had to admit she was exhausted.

  She let her arms fall, the chain clinking lightly against itself as she tried to get comfortable. She’d been angry when told she wasn’t allowed to go to the party. Wasn’t this her vacation? But even as she pouted about it, she recognized this wasn’t a vacation per se. Though it was a resort island, she’d signed on for training, not for sipping margaritas on the beach.

  Should she have just gone for the vacation package? Was she nuts to have voluntarily chosen this restrictive regime where she’d abdicated the right to make decisions on her own?

  Even as she asked this of herself, she knew the answer. She was where she needed to be. Everything about this place just felt so right, as if she were coming home to a place she’d never been before.

  She’d bonded instantly with the other subs over dinner, enjoying their stories. She appreciated their encouragement and support. But it was Master Caelan who occupied the bulk of her thoughts. Since their first hello over the computer, their rapport had been immediate. While she admired him as a Master trainer, it was the man underneath who really compelled her. He had been funny, kind and thoughtful, and had never acted superior in any way, despite his advanced degrees and obvious intelligence. Even so, she hadn’t been prepared for the sheer physical chemistry between them from the moment they’d met in person.

  Surely it wasn’t just one-sided? Did he feel something, too?

  She stroked her throat with her fingertips, recalling his masterful touch. When he’d gripped her throat, his thumb and forefinger pressing hard under her chin and cutting off her ability to breathe, her entire body had flooded with fire. She had always adored a strong man’s hand on her throat. The primal gesture made her insides melt.

  Her first day on the island had been a wild ride. She’d hated the stupid butt plug, make no mistake, but at the same time, she’d adored Master Caelan’s calm insistence that she obey his commands. He was really a very sexy guy. And he was smart and accomplished. Her parents would love her to bring home a doctor, she thought with a grin.

  Whoa. Where had that come from? She definitely wasn’t bringing anyone home to meet the parents, for god’s sake. Imagine if they had a clue about where she was right now? She’d told them she was taking a beach vacation, but she’d left the details purposely vague. Her private life was none of their business, just as theirs was none of hers. She was close to her older brother, Michael, and he did know she was into the scene. He was completely non-judgmental, which she appreciated. Still, he’d probably at least raise an eyebrow if he’d known she’d signed up for a 24/7 slave training packet at a BDSM fantasy island. She could hardly believe it herself.

  She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. There was a palpable ache inside her cunt. Being around all this overt sexuality and intense BDSM action all day had left her more aroused than she’d ever been in her life. That one little orgasm earlier in the afternoon was just a dim memory.

  Damn it, why was there that stupid rule about no masturbation without express permission? She was alone in her own room, for god’s sake. And it would help her to sleep. Who would ever know?

  She was physically exhausted, but her mind refused to shut down. She again held up her arms, admiring the cuffs and chains. It was super sexy, going to sleep in chains. Hopefully she wouldn’t get tangled up in them while asleep. If she could ever fall asleep.

  Finally, after having tried and failed several relaxation techniques, she gave in to her urges. Shifting from her side to her back, she moved her arms beneath the sheets, testing the chains. There was plenty of room for her to slip her hand between her legs. She bent her knees so her feet were flat on the mattress and let her legs fall open. She wasn’t surprised to find she was soaking wet. Lubricating her fingers with her juices, she closed her eyes and rubbed herself.

  “Hmm,” she breathed softly into the empty room. Master Caelan slipped into her mind’s eye, his hand on her throat, his gaze holding her captive. She rubbed faster as he loomed over her, pressing his muscular thigh between her legs, his cock gripped in his hand, ready to slip into her aching heat as he lowered his face to kiss her…

  Yes… Take me, Sir… I’m yours… “Ooo,” she breathed into the empty room, her fingers flying over her wet, swollen sex.

  The sound of the door opening made her jump. Her eyes flew open to see Master Caelan standing in the doorway, his face in shadow, his large frame illuminated by the light from the hall.

  With a small cry, she jerked her hand from between her legs, the chains of her restraints clinking. Instinctively, she drew the covers up protectively to her chin, her heart skittering in her chest. Shit, shit, shit, shit. What had he seen? Was she in big trouble? What was he doing there, anyway?

  He stepped into the room. “I’m sorry,” he said calmly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just checking that you’re all right. Sleeping in chains might take some getting used to.”

  He didn’t look angry. Had she gotten away with it?

  His eyebrows furrowed. “You okay, Skylar?”

  “Oh,” she blurted, striving to look innocent. “I’m-I’m good, thanks, Sir. I was just drifting off, actually,” she lied. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Damn it. Hopefully he couldn’t see the blush in the semi-dark.

  He regarded her for a long, silent moment, during which she was certain he was reading her mind, absolutely aware of what she’d been doing. Her heart was booming so loudly she was sure he could hear it. But then, to her vast relief, he nodded, apparently accepting her lie. “Okay, then. Get a good night’s rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He closed the door with a soft click.

  Skylar blew out a sigh of relief. She rolled to her side and stared past the sliding glass doors to the beach just beyond. Though it was dark outside, there was a sliver of moon silvering the sand and the waves beyond. What was she doing, exactly? She had willfully broken the rules. Why had she taken such a stupid risk? More to the point, was she going to take this week seriously, or not?

  She’d promised not to use her phone, and she had. She’d promised not to touch herself without express permission, and she had. Just because no one caught her, did that make it okay? By cutting those corners, as small as they might be, who was she really hurting?

  If you’re going to do this thing, then do it all the way. Otherwise, you might as well just hang out on the beach and go to the parties. Maybe it’s not too late to opt for the BDSM lite package.

  Even as she entertained this possibility, she rejected it. While the day had been challenging, some parts downright unpleasant, she was poised on the edge of something
big. She could either give up, take a step back and admit she was too cowardly to truly submit. Or she could take a step forward, putting her whole heart and soul into the exploration of her true submissive nature.

  Closing her eyes, she visualized standing on the edge of a cliff, high above a vast canyon filled with infinite possibility. Opening her fledging submissive wings, she leaped…

  Chapter 7

  “Good morning,” a female voice, entirely too chipper for the crack of dawn, called from the door. “Time to get up. Make sure to groom—no stubble allowed. You can either wear sneakers or go barefoot. If you’re not used to working out on the sand, I’d recommend the sneakers. We’ll meet in the kitchen at 6:30 sharp for a snack before exercise and positions training on the beach.

  Skylar squinted in the sudden bright light. She had been in the middle of a particularly satisfying dream. It took her several seconds to process where she was, who was speaking and what they’d said.

  Maya stood in her doorway dressed in a sports bra and tiny shorts, sneakers on her feet. Skylar lifted herself on her elbows, still getting her bearings. “Just sneakers?”

  “You can wear a hat if you want, but trainees remain naked unless otherwise instructed. Don’t worry—Ben and Janie will be right there with you. It’s no big deal.” She glanced down the hallway. “Which reminds me. I need to get them up, too. See you in thirty.”

  Skylar rolled out of bed and stretched. The sun was barely up, the sky streaked with pink and gold, the shore still in shadow. Drawn to the beautiful view, she opened the sliding glass door to let in the fresh, cool sea air. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, peace pervading her soul.

  After a moment, she opened her eyes and stared at the endless waves rolling toward the shore, the sound peaceful and reassuring. Something about this place just felt so right. There was no honking traffic, sirens or garbage trucks with squealing breaks outside her apartment window. The pervading sense of vague dread that always colored her mornings during the workweek was blissfully absent. She didn’t have to put on her boring work clothes and rush to the morning rah-rah pep talk meeting at the office before heading out to try and drum up new business and handle the complaints of existing customers. If she never had to do that again, it would be absolutely fine with her.