Six Masters Island - The Cinderella Syndrome

by Candace Smith

  “That’s our mother, Calla. You practically killed yourself for her,” Daryl said. “You’re family, and we take care of each other.”

  “I know, Daryl. Thank you for being so kind to me.” Calla looked over at the cement seats and table. “Guess the truck got a work out. Thanks, Sloan.”

  “You’re welcome, Calla.”

  A shadow came lumbering across the lawn with a tray. “Some kind of ruckus goin’ on in the garden downstairs,” Ethel mumbled. The men took off at a run, and Ethel set the tray with three cups and a teapot on the stone table in the center of the garden. “Pretty place, Mistress. Perfect garden for the fae.”

  “I should warn you, Calla. Ethel has put little trinkets around the plants to keep hobgoblins and such away so they don’t disturb you,” Cynthia said.

  “Thanks, Ethel.”

  “Can’t count on those men to keep you safe,” she grumbled.

  “How’s Julienne?” Cynthia asked.

  “Doing fine, Mistress. He has Albert watching that policewoman, and he says he’ll come home for Winter Display to collect her. He also wants to see the fae. I don’t think he believes me,” Ethel replied with a hint of indignation in her voice.

  Calla looked up in confusion at Cynthia. “Julienne is Ethel’s son. We managed to get him set up on an estate on Six Masters Island,” Cynthia informed her. “It was hard letting him go. He was raised here with my boys, but we agreed he needed a place without so much competition.”

  Calla looked towards the house. “Do you think we should check on them? What do you think was happening?”

  “Nothing, ‘til they got down there, I imagine,” Ethel replied. “They’ll all figure out something the flowers was up to.”

  “You lied?” Calla asked.

  “I encouraged… there’s a difference. Garden’s been ignored too much with everyone busy doing special projects with their flowers and while they worked on this place,” Ethel answered.

  “Ethel is a distant cousin of Alexander’s, Calla. Although she’s welcome to live in the house with us, she prefers to stay in the background a little bit, and she has her own collection of flowers in her quarters.”

  “Just the two, but those girls are enough. I’m kinda’ the black sheep of the family. But the Mistress… she made sure Julienne got himself as good an education as her own boys. He’s a whiz with computers and made himself a healthy sum before he left to the island,” Ethel said proudly. “And I’m no charity case. I work hard for my due.”

  “You sure do,” Calla agreed. “Well, I don’t know if you’re my aunt or cousin now, but it’s nice to know that you’re family.”

  “Tsk… me related to a fae? Wait ‘til my Julienne hears that one.” Ethel gave a deep belly laugh.

  A shooting star flashed across the sky and Calla made a quick wish and whispered, “Please.”

  Cynthia covered her hand. “Albert says it will be fine. The pain medication was mild, and he stopped it as soon as he was sure.”

  “You should tell them girl, so you don’t get hurt by those boys,” Ethel warned.

  “You know?” Calla asked.

  Ethel shrugged. “Always had a knack for bein’ able to tell.” She looked up and winked. “’Course, it don’t hurt to have Marigold telling me how she’s been holding back your hair in the morning when you’re sick.”

  “I just want to make sure it’s okay. What if it’s like me?”

  “Unfortunately, Albert says there’s little chance of that happening. I’d love to have another angel in the house. Ethel’s right, though. Your games have to slow down, but you can work with your flower for a while.”

  “The twins are going to be afraid to touch me,” Calla pouted.

  “The twins will treat you like a princess. Trust me, it doesn’t last nearly long enough,” Cynthia replied.

  “I’ll tell them on their birthday,” Calla agreed.

  Two weeks later, the twins sat in the lounge after dinner opening their presents. Most of it was weird bondage equipment, and some of it made Calla laugh. “God, Kyle, look at this one.” Calla showed him a picture in the book Alexander gave him called ‘Binding Love : One hundred ways to tie up your lover’. “It would take a week to do that, and all of the rope in the dungeon.”

  Finally, Calla rose and handed them each her gifts. “Cynthia, who gets the blue wrapper again? It could be awkward if I screw this up.”

  “Liam, I think,” Cynthia smiled. “They’ll figure it out if it’s backwards,” she played along.

  The twins ripped off the wrapping paper and stared at the box covers. “Uncle Daddy?” Kyle asked.

  “I didn’t really know what to call you,” Calla said. “A baby can’t call you Kyle.”

  Liam lifted a picture off a small stack of diapers, and Kyle held up the matching photo. It was something only a mother could read, so Calla deciphered it for them. “It’s twins, so you each get a stack of diapers to help.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Liam asked in shock.

  Calla rolled her eyes. “It happens, Liam.”

  “But, last night, we… we…” Kyle sputtered.

  “I didn’t exactly get pregnant yesterday, Kyle. I’m almost three months along. I had to tell you, because my belly’s starting to pooch.”

  Liam stammered, “But, last night, we… we…”

  Daryl gripped the arms of his chair, licked his lips, and asked, “What the hell did you do? Congrats, sis, but what the hell did they do to you last night?”

  “Daryl,” Cynthia reprimanded. “That’s not any of your business.”

  “Only because Calla tells you everything. You already know.”

  Kyle whispered to Calla, “You don’t really tell mother everything, do you?”

  “Pretty much,” Calla admitted.

  “Oh shit,” the twins said in unison.

  Chapter XII

  “I look ridiculous.” Calla turned again, staring into the mirror.

  “You look beautiful,” Kyle replied, and he pecked her on the cheek as he walked by.

  Her hands smoothed over her rounded belly. “All I need is a beard, and I could be Santa Claus.”

  “Calla, you look beautiful,” Liam called out from the bathroom.

  “This is the first time I’m meeting your friends, and I look like a blimp,” she said.

  She had on a floor-length red velvet gown with white fur trim that edged a low cut neckline. The long sleeves and hem were edged in white fur as well. At the twins’ insistence, her white hair was loose and swinging by what used to be her waist. Marigold had patiently threaded dozens of red ribbon roses through it.

  “Come on, everyone. We don’t want to be late,” Cynthia called up from the foyer.

  “I’m glad the Winter Display is at Albert’s house. At least I know him,” Calla said. “Marigold, come.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Marigold felt odd in the red velvet strips with white fur edging. They surrounded her small breasts, almost causing them to be hidden under the fur. Little bells were clamped onto her nipples. Another strap separated the lips of her pussy, though the fur seemed to enhance the size and shape of the thin sacks. Her straight hair hung well past her shoulders, and Calla had added the lightest touch of makeup to bring out the girl’s features… such as they were. “Are you sure stepmother won’t be angry?” She worried her lip with her teeth.

  “I’ll need you to help me, so you have to come with us. You just stay near me and you’ll be fine,” Calla reassured her.

  “You… you aren’t going to trade me, are you Mistress?”

  That’s why she’s been so upset all week. “Marigold, how on earth can I get around without you? And when the babies arrive… good grief. I can’t trust anyone else to help me.” After all this time, the servant still needed constant reassurance.

  When they got to the foyer, Cynthia looked at Marigold, walked to her office, and came back with a strap. “Keep her leashed, Calla.”

  “Yes, Cynthia.”

 
“Sloan? Come on, son. We’re late,” Cynthia called upstairs. Sloan came bounding down the staircase, looking dashing in black slacks and a gray cashmere sweater. “God, you look like your father,” Cynthia noted.

  “Maybe I should stay here to keep an eye on things,” Sloan suggested.

  “Ethel will call us if there’s a problem,” Cynthia replied. The flowers they had been training were already secured in Albert’s dungeon to be auctioned. Ethel would only have Rose and a few other long-term slaves to keep an eye on.

  “I hate these things,” Sloan muttered as he walked passed them.

  “Why doesn’t he like the Display?” Calla asked.

  “Because we don’t only show off slaves for sale. The single daughters in our society show up to try to catch a husband,” Cynthia smiled.

  “I am so staying next to you,” Kyle replied. “They won’t be able to tell which one of us is married, so they’ll pick on someone else.”

  “Like they can’t tell you apart,” Calla scoffed.

  “Actually, they can’t,” Cynthia answered. “Only Albert, and that’s because he personally stitched the gash on Kyle’s head. Even he has to move his hair to tell, though.”

  “Alexander?”

  “Coming, Cynthia.”

  “Calla, you have your glasses with you?”

  “Yes, Cynthia.” Calla put a foot forward under the fur on her hem to check her shoe, and muttered, “As if I don’t look weird enough in this get-up.”

  “Calla,” Cynthia exclaimed. “You look lovely, and Albert has already set up places on the edges of the rooms that should be comfortable and dim enough for you.”

  “He told me at the last check-up,” Calla replied. “He’s really sweet… in a grumpy old doctor sort of way.”

  “I wonder if you’ll say that after you see his home,” Cynthia laughed softly. “Doctors have strange methods of training.”

  Alexander took her arm. “Come on, Cinderella. Let’s get you to your ball.” Cynthia was stunning in an all white gown edged in more white fur. Little white bells connected by strands of small pearls threaded though her black hair. It was the only time Calla had ever seen her wear it up.

  The ponies were hooked up to a four-wheeled cart with a canopy top. It had special wheels and shocks so the strain of pulling the family would not be too hard. Cynthia sighed. “They’re beautiful, Alexander. Every time I see them, I melt inside.” The family was seated and Cynthia took the reins in one hand and her whip in the other.

  Bells had been clamped to the ponies’ nipples and clit rings, and they tinkled merrily as they jogged down the gravel driveway. It was five miles to Albert’s estate, but Cynthia had been training them around the track pulling bales of hay in the cart for twice the distance in preparation. She wanted them to arrive looking fresh and beautiful, instead of sweating and pushed to their limit.

  As they rode, Calla listened to Daryl and Sloan complain about the upcoming event. “Damn, you don’t think the Paulson’s will show up again, do you?”

  Sloan replied, “Why don’t you just get it over with and let Angela catch you?”

  Daryl said, “Because she never, never shuts up. She’ll describe the carpet if she runs out of things to say.”

  “You could gag her,” Sloan suggested.

  “Won’t work. She has to eat, and she’ll yack between mouthfuls.”

  “I can spread a rumor that you’re impotent.”

  “Shut up, Kyle, or I’ll tell them which one you are,” Daryl threatened.

  “Won’t work,” Calla said, squeezing Kyle’s hand. “He’s mine.”

  “Liam’s yours,” Sloan reminded her.

  “Nope. Kyle’s my babies’ Uncle Daddy,” Calla answered.

  “I can’t wait for you to explain that one to the vulture women,” Daryl laughed.

  “I assure you, Daryl. No one is getting near my twins,” Calla stated firmly. “Either set.”

  An hour later Calla sat on a comfortable sofa, with Marigold kneeling by her leg and Liam and Kyle seated on either side of her. Girls would come up and introduce themselves, staring at the strange white girl. They walked away muttering, “It’s not right that she gets two of them.” No one even challenged her for Kyle.

  “If you find someone you like, Kyle...”

  “Nope, Calla. You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you?” he asked nervously.

  “Of course not. I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  “I am obligated,” he affirmed.

  “Good.” Calla kissed his cheek. She looked around the expansive room. Cynthia was right. Albert had an odd sense of décor. Even the slaves milling through the crowd serving drinks and appetizers reflected his tastes. The women were dressed as nurses, with five-inch heels and short… really short… white uniform dresses that exposed naked bottoms and bare pussies. As the trays were supported by chains attached to pierced nipples, there was no need for a front to the garment.

  Albert was standing across from where Calla was sitting, describing different devices he had invented over the course of the year. Once in a while, Calla would see the gagged girl who was being used for demonstration, or hear her muffled screams. For the most part, people blocked her view of the scene, but it separated in time for Calla to see Albert thread a thin needle, passing through both tips of the slave’s nipples. He pinched a clip to the center with a wire extending from it, and flipped a switch on a box that it connected to.

  A man got behind the jerking woman and unzipped his trousers. Calla’s mouth opened slightly when he caught the girl’s hips and thrust up into her. The man laughed while he held her and let the slight electric jolts force the motion of his ride. Calla watched Cynthia walk up to Albert and whisper in his ear. The doctor nodded, and then handed the control box to another man in the group. He excused himself and disappeared down a hall off the main room.

  Cynthia crossed the room towards them. “Where’s Sloan?”

  “Probably sulking in the shadows,” Liam answered.

  Calla batted his arm and said, “I think I saw him heading for the library.”

  A few minutes later, Cynthia walked by again, practically dragging Sloan beside her. “Just meet her. She’s Chayton’s younger sister and they just got back from the island.”

  Sloan allowed his mother to pull him along. He was certain his disagreeable nature could get rid of this one too. Cynthia led him down a hallway that opened to the basement staircase. “I thought we weren’t supposed to go to the dungeon and see the slaves before auction,” Sloan reminded her.

  “We’re not bidding on any, so Albert agrees to the exception,” Cynthia replied. She guided him past the open training area, and he looked at the Venetia Blossoms secured in temporary cages. After scanning the other offerings, he was proud of their achievement.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “In here.” Cynthia rapped on the door lightly, and Albert opened it and smiled. He put a finger to his lips and they silently entered the dimly lit chamber.

  There was a woman chained in the center of the room with her arms and legs spread and secured. The links from the ceiling had been raised so the girl’s feet barely touched the ground. “Nicolette is giving her to me for allowing them to stay here,” Albert replied. “Camille and Preston taught her their technique with the whip.” The Doctor studied the ornate lashed striping on the tortured woman’s body. “Doesn’t she look amazing?”

  Albert was referring to the slave, but both he and Cynthia noted that Sloan’s eyes were fixed on the woman with the whip. “She sure does,” he murmured.

  Standing sideways to the chained girl was a tall young woman with a jet black ponytail swinging across her waist in time to the whip she was lashing across the slave’s body. She was wearing a beautiful gold silk evening gown, cut low in the front and barely concealing her nipples. Sloan fixed his eyes on her full breasts, willing them to spill over when she snaked the whip out again. She slashed a perfect strike across the tips o
f the bound girl’s nipples, and a rapidly delivered second lash left a welt spreading up from the crease of her pussy… again, centered perfectly.

  “Preston and Camille are experts with the whip, and they said Nicolette had an amazing talent with both placement and delivery,” Albert whispered.

  Nicolette’s breasts were heaving, and straining at the material. Sloan’s cock was uncomfortably tight in his slacks. He looked up at her face just as she turned to see her audience. “Excuse me, Albert. I didn’t realize anyone else was down here.” She hung up the whip and walked over to them.

  Albert said, “Sloan, this is Nicolette.”

  Sloan reached out his hand. “It’s good to meet…” his voice caught, and he cleared it again. “It’s good to meet you, Nicolette.” He raised her hand and turned it to kiss her palm.

  Cynthia’s eyes met Albert’s, and she nodded. “Sloan, why don’t you introduce Nicolette to Calla?” She turned to the statuesque girl. “Calla has to take it easy.”

  “She’s the snow fairy?” Nicolette asked excitedly. “Julienne told me about her.” She turned to Sloan. “I’d love to meet her.”

  Sloan took her arm and led her upstairs. “You’re magnificent with the whip,” he noted. While they walked, Sloan realized that Nicolette was tall and had the same Sioux Indian looks Chayton had. Her hair was almost bluish black and shone in the tail to her waist. Her eyes were blue, and it was a startling contrast that was breathtaking.

  Nicolette laughed softly. “I had a most strenuous workout this year with Preston and Camille. Preston especially, because he prefers to work with women. His sister’s accomplishments with her male slaves even made me cringe a few times.” Nicolette stopped in her tracks and gasped, “Oh Sloan, she’s beautiful.”

  “Not everyone sees it,” Sloan admitted. He had noticed a small group of callous young women staring and pointing at his sister with sneering expressions.

  Nicolette moved Kyle over to sit by Calla, and Sloan pulled up a chair. Their group talked for a while with no interruption until Daryl showed up. “Hide me,” he begged.

  Nicolette saw the Paulson girl scanning the crowd and smiling when she caught sight of Daryl over by the weird white girl. “Oh, I see your problem. I’ll take care of it,” she offered.