Six Masters Island - Perverse Intentions

by Candace Smith

  “No, no, Mr. Kinsey,” Sam replied, flustered with the mess he was making of the situation. This whole visit seemed unwarranted, and god, how he needed a beer at the ‘Tap Room’. “It’s more like she was… um… mutilated.” As if that were a less scathing offense, Sam thought dismally.

  Thomas let his expression soften. “I’m so sorry. Of course… she’s confused. I apologize for my comments concerning my meeting with her. Mr. McFarland had warned me that she has a propensity towards, what’s the term? Gold digging. He said she had even made a pass at him. Apparently, somewhere in her travels, she made a play for the wrong man.”

  Sam was relieved that Mr. Kinsey seemed to be willing to let the preposterous accusation slide. “Because her jewelry was involved, the Chief thinks it may have been one of her ex-husband’s associates. It certainly seems more likely.” God… he needed a beer.

  Jeremy began coughing on cue, and Sarah rushed to his side. “Thomas,” she looked up in alarm. “It’s been so long since we’ve had visitors, and with the shock of seeing Michael, I wasn’t thinking. Jeremy should not be around them.” She looked up at her brother. “Neither one of you is sick, are you? You’re not getting over anything… or coming down with a cold?”

  The officers jumped to their feet. They felt fine, but geeze, what if the frail man got sick again, and it was blamed on their intrusion? “Mr. Kinsey, you have a solid alibi, and we’re sorry to have bothered you. We do have to check out all leads, however,” Sam finished weakly. The hell with it. It would not be the first time he stopped by for a quick belt in uniform.

  Thomas etched deep concern across his features. “Sarah, how is he?”

  “A little warm, but it might just be the excitement of visitors. Jeremy? Jeremy, honey, do you need to lie down?”

  “Mr. Kinsey, we’ll just show ourselves out.” Sam pulled at Michael’s sleeve.

  Thomas rose and joined Sarah beside his brother. “Thank you, officers. Please call first, if I can be of further assistance. As you can see, we have to be extremely careful.”

  “Yes, sir,” Michael said seriously. “We’re so sorry to have intruded. Sarah?”

  Sarah looked up at the brother she had not seen since he was three, and barely remembered. “Michael, it was good to see you. I’m so glad things worked out for everyone.”

  “I’ll tell them I saw you, Sarah, and got a chance to thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Michael.” She pulled Jeremy’s blanket tighter around his thin legs. “I’m sorry; I need to take care of Jeremy.”

  After the door closed, Jeremy stood and walked to the window, and peeked around the blinds while the officers argued and got into their cruiser and drove off. “What a couple of putzes.”

  “That was my brother, Jeremy.”

  “Master Jeremy,” he reminded her, and then added, “and I’m sorry your brother is a putz.”

  Thomas had left the room, and he came back from the office a minute later with an envelope. “The night father told me he was sending me to the University, he showed me this letter. He said not to give it to you, unless any of your family came to find you or you wanted to find them.”

  Sarah sat on the sofa, and slowly tore open the flap. She had spent so little time thinking about her brothers and sisters, as evidenced by the letter. If she had made a single effort in the past thirty years to find them, she would have known how Mr. Kinsey had taken care of them… with more thought than she had given them. Of course, she did not recognize that the man was merely trying to ease his conscience by paying for stealing her youth. The letter basically stated what Michael had told her, with one cryptic paragraph at the end. “I can see in your eyes, when you look at my sons, that you will always take care of them. You belong here, Sarah.”

  CHAPTER V

  He sat alone at the table, uncomfortably sipping his drink, and staring at the throbbing, pulsing, grinding forms on the dance floor. The strobing lights and deafening music made his head ache, but he forced a smile when the man of honor caught his attention, and licked the sweat off the almost completely exposed chest of the slut he was dancing with.

  How he would like to drop a snapshot of that one, at the feet of his cousin’s intended in the morning. The pressure in his head lessened, as he envisioned the uproar in the church, while her white dress swirled around her clawing, screaming wails. But no, he would not offer such arousing, malicious torment to others… the pathetic guests could arrange their own gratification.

  The girl stared into his eyes, while his cousin continued to lap at her chest, squeezing her ass through her tight dress. He understood that look, and it had been offered to him many times over the years. This one had merely recognized the futility of her position with the groom to be, and after allowing the man to paw every inch of her, she was looking for a more available replacement. As with the others, she would approach him and tease him with her wares, until the unsettling, superior look beneath his black eyes became frightening, and then the excuses or insults would follow.

  This one did not know, she was unaware, that he had tired of the ignorant stupidity of cunts, though he could not refute his need of them. Over the years he had been building his training room, the place he could bring the taunting sluts, and teach them their place. His practiced, punishing exercises over the years, had prepared him to correct the wrongs these bitches had committed towards their superior counterparts. He had the trophies to prove it.

  As the woman separated from the crowd on the dance floor, his cousin turned his attention to the next available slut. He watched the girl walk to the bar and slam down the rest of her drink. She pulled her keys out of the pocket of her dress, and pushed her way towards the door. Glancing at the distracted party on the dance floor, he knew they would not be concerned if the sulking relative, invited to this send-off only as an obligation, disappeared without saying a word.

  The woman was parked five spaces away from him, and he watched her fix a smear in her lipstick by her reflection in her driver’s window. Her eyes widened. “Fuck,” she exclaimed, and she tried to brush the oily stain from her dance partner’s sweat off her white silk top.

  It was easy to follow at a short distance while the woman wound through the streets with more focus on her cell phone than traffic. She pulled off of the main strip with the nightclubs, and made her way to the streets with the large old houses that were the initial residences of the city’s first families. Alleys ran behind the estates, where parking and small wooden cages for garbage were located.

  She parked beside a white clapboard garage, and he stopped several spaces down and hurried to hide beside the building. There were no lights illuminating the back yard, but he could see her white top as his eyes followed her across the lawn, until it appeared to sink into the ground. When a light came on at the bottom of the structure, he realized this was one of the relics that had been divided into apartments, and she lived in the basement.

  He noted the house number on the garage, and spent a week learning her schedule, and those of the other residents and neighbors. It was mostly young couples or roommates… although she lived alone and was usually one of the last to come home in a half-drunken stupor on weekends. Lights had either long been extinguished, or quickly turned off by the time she pulled into the alley, and twice she had parked her car only to hop into a vehicle with her conquest for the evening to return in the morning… or the following day.

  She had stumbled up the lawn thirty minutes ago, and her lamp had been on for less than five minutes. He backed his car behind the garage, facing the dirt alley, and opened the trunk. The bulb had already been removed from its interior, and he grabbed the restraints he would use and made his way to the back of the house. Through binoculars he had noted she kept her windows open, allowing the slightly cooler air of evening to pass through the screens and save on the cost of air conditioning that might comprise her ability to afford an apartment to herself.

  He had been in her house the night before, after remo
ving the screen. How ridiculously simple, and a part of him was convinced she was merely waiting for someone like him to gather her, and lead her back on the right path. He crouched on the grass in front of the eye-level access, and he knew there would be a three-foot drop to the carpeted floor on the other side.

  She had not even bothered to remove her dress, and with the disarray of the bedroom no one would notice the black pumps carelessly kicked into the corner by running shoes. Removing them had been as much as she could manage. The girl was small… five foot four, or so… with straight long dark hair and an hourglass figure. He guessed her weight at one hundred and ten, and an easily lifted burden.

  Without preamble or stalling, he strode up to the sleeping girl, crushed down on her stomach as he knelt, and shoved the foam ball behind her lips as she gasped, clawing wildly in the darkness. Her hands were quickly grabbed, and he lifted and twisted her onto her stomach, manacled her hands, and finished securing the strap to the gag while her legs kicked in drunken, panicked fury.

  She arched up off the pillow and he felt his cock, hard and already oozing at the fright in her eyes. When she tired and dropped back onto the bed, able to protest with only occasional kicks, he secured her ankles and latched them to her wrists. He could barely make out her muffled sobs as he picked her up in her hog-tied position and carried her like a suitcase back to the living room. He shoved her through the window and followed, replaced the screen, and carried her to his car. When he got her to his secluded house, he lifted her from the trunk and deposited her on the cement floor of the cage waiting in the basement. Crucial Needs.

  Sarah had barely made it through the last sentence. Five years had passed since her brother had come to the door, and she had never heard from him again. She assumed that after he had fulfilled the obligation of thanking the sister, who he must have decided wanted no contact with him, he had resolved to give her privacy. Actually, after Sam had relayed their visit, Michael was told not to bother the threesome on the hill again. It was more than apparent his sister had absorbed into this new life of caring for the sick twin.

  Now, she was a month shy of fifty-two, and Thomas had slowed down the driving exercises she still tried to accomplish. Sarah could see in the mirror the coarse gray hair and soft folding skin. Jeremy snuggled into her sagging, falling breast, sighing and telling her it was the softest pillow.

  Thomas was confused by the tears she was fighting and the heavy weight of depression emanating from her slumped shoulders as she stared at the cover of their manual. They had progressed towards the end of the book, with exciting adventures and many trophies adorning the walls of the dungeon.

  “Sarah, what’s wrong?” Jeremy murmured, and when his gentle thumb brushed down her cheek, the tear finally fell.

  She looked up at his brother. “You’re replacing me, aren’t you Master Thomas?” The questioned statement quivered from her lip with agonized finality.

  “You know better than to ask such things, Sarah.” The men were so comfortable with their love for her, it never occurred to them she would reach that conclusion.

  Sarah reached over Jeremy, and laid down the novel. She remembered when they had begun this journey, and how she had yearned to read to the end. Not now… no, she could not bear it. Thomas turned out the light, and her hands found their cocks and gently stroked as she always had done.

  The night before her birthday, Thomas donned his dark clothes, while Sarah leaned silently back against Jeremy’s thin body. His arms were wrapped around her, caressing the nipples that still responded eagerly to his touch. Thomas left, and Jeremy acted out the abduction with a distracted, dejected partner.

  Sarah was asleep when he returned, though Thomas stripped and slid into bed without intending to play the tape. In the morning, Sarah was told not to exercise and not to go down to the basement. She fought tears all day while she cleaned and cooked, cursing every mirror she passed. Her mind could not fathom what the twins were going to do with her… whether to keep her as a servant, or release her to the frightening, cold world outside the Plantation.

  Thomas and Jeremy had made several trips to the basement, and every time she heard the heavy door, she winced in pain. Only at Thomas’ order did she manage to eat any dinner, and he told her to leave the dishes and follow them into the living room. She sat on the sofa between them, and wanted to cover her ears and scream when Thomas thumbed the remote.

  The bedroom was dark and disorienting as they always were when the tapes started. Thomas never thought to turn the camera around the room before he set it down, so the viewer had no idea other furnishings or even the location of the bed in the room. An enlarged view of Thomas’ face, those beautiful dark eyes shining with anticipation, filled the screen. He did not need the mask, Sarah realized, because the trophy this time was the girl.

  She watched as he easily bound the small woman, and she miserably noticed the tight young body with the firm curves, though she had not been able to get a good look at her face. When the film ended, they were all silent for a moment.

  “Sarah…” Thomas began.

  Sarah could not hold back the one sob, but she would not plead with him. The boys really hated that, and she had learned to trust and comply with whatever decisions they made.

  Jeremy rose and walked over to the desk, and Thomas took her hands and turned her to face him. His strong fingers wiped through her tears. “Sarah, we are making some changes… ssh, stop crying and listen.”

  “Yes, Master Thomas,” she hitched out.

  Jeremy sat back down, and he reached around and placed a box in her lap. He leaned forward and said, “Happy Birthday, Sarah,” and kissed her cheek. It was all quite unbearable.

  Thomas began to lift the lid on the box, and continued. “No one could ever take your place, Sarah. But, Jeremy and I will not risk letting you hurt yourself, or allow you to try to take care of this place by yourself any more.” He held her chin and she looked at the earnest truth and… and… love?… in his eyes. “The girl is here to help you, Sarah. She will be yours, as much as she is ours.”

  Thomas removed a silk robe that would float around her figure, and he slipped it over her shoulders and helped her shaking hands tie the sash. “You will stay naked for us.” He looked down into her soft blue eyes. “We love to watch you, Sarah, and the changes you find so alarming, we find beautiful. But in front of the slave… she is the one who will be naked at your feet.”

  Thomas and Jeremy had considered this carefully. Though they did not understand why, they knew how uncomfortable Sarah had become with her nudity as she had aged. This seemed like the best solution… to let her remain covered in front of the young woman she thought they would desire… but, gloriously presented for them.

  “There’s more, Sarah,” and Thomas removed a collar from the box. Sarah could see the cuffs still nestled in the paper. “Jeremy designed this, and the heart under the front loop is your right of ownership for her.” Sarah was overwhelmed, trying to digest Thomas words. “You will meet her in the morning, but now, we’re going to bed, and Jeremy has one last gift for you.”

  Sarah lay the robe on the same chair where her uniform was placed the first time she stripped for them seventeen years ago. An unfamiliar, almost forgotten blush crept to her cheeks, just as it had then. She took her place between them, and as they lay their heads on her pillow soft mounds, Jeremy handed her his sketchbook. After all these years, she had never seen anything he had drawn in it. The cover had swirling gold letters, and simply said, ‘Sarah’.

  All of the drawings, and all of the writings, spoke of their love for her. Even towards the end, when her form was hung in a torturous device and Thomas’ back faced the artist, her face… the way they saw her… was beautiful, and she began to understand why they never seemed to notice the many flaws she saw encroaching on her once youthful body.

  Oh… they continued to have their passionate trysts, and Thomas continued to bind her in delicious anticipation of a climatic release
that they all were consumed by… but now, they had a witness for their love.

  PART II

  This one was special, for she would be witness to all of his Mastery. Obedient, submissive and owned, the girl was perfection, and no longer the slut he had rescued. Crucial Needs.

  CHAPTER VI

  After he had collected the misguided slut, he had left her bound and gagged on the floor of her cage. She was still a wild animal in need of taming, but through his patience and lessons… ah yes, the lessons… his cock was already responding… she would become his perfect slave. He would break her down, destroying her belief in all the past experiences that had made her think she had worth in her own right, and then she would begin again… molding even her body’s responses to his requirements. Dominant Submission.

  It was Friday night, and Hannah had arrived at ‘Amusing Disruptions’ almost an hour after her friends. She had gotten stuck with the late shift at the restaurant, but she never turned down the extra hours because she always needed the extra money. When she was sixteen, she had taken the bus down from the hokey coal mountain town she had been raised in, and she had made it as far as Alden.

  Her parents seemed almost as relieved to let their second oldest child go, as relieved as Hannah had been to leave the bedroom she shared with four of her sisters. Her three brothers slept on the floor of the living room until Henry left home, and then Rowdy and Larry took turns on the couch. Hannah never went back to the grungy place, and the last letter her mom sent suggesting that one of her sisters wanted to move in with her, went unanswered over a year ago. Hannah had worked hard to improve herself, and did not like to think about her crappy beginnings.

  Gone were the days of the hand me down clothes from the church donation boxes, and Hannah cherished the privacy of living alone in her small apartment. To be able to afford to live without a roommate, she had learned to be careful with her money. She saved pretty well, and she shopped mostly at the ritzy consignment shop over on Magnolia Drive so that she could keep her closet filled with designer dresses, tops and jeans.