Escape From Paradise

by Gwendolyn Field

  “You feeling okay?” he asked in Spanish.

  I nodded. He frowned, obviously able to tell I was lying. The press of his lips together showed me he wanted to say something—ask something, but he couldn’t.

  “Patrons…” he said, searching for the words. “They come and go. Our time with some is more significant than others. We enjoy the better ones while we can, and then we must let them go.”

  “I know,” I whispered. He was right, and I could always count on Josef. But his words stung my eyes.

  He ran a hand through my hair, which appeared bright yellow-gold against his tanned skin.

  “You are to put on a bathing suit, sunhat, and sunglasses and be at the ready in case Señor Douglas asks for you. He is at the pool. You are being permitted in the lounging area. We will go together once I’m showered.”

  My heart soared, but I held back any response other than a nod before he stood and strolled to the bathroom.

  The lounging area was a screened in porch, of sorts, overlooking the pool. It was full of Marco’s imported flowers from around the world. It was the closest I was ever allowed to being outside, because by standing at the back of the lounging area I couldn’t see the ocean, therefore people on the ocean couldn’t see me.

  I went to the closet and put on my red and gold bikini. I swiped red lipstick on, then divided my hair into two low pigtails that lay over the front of my shoulders. A floppy, black sunhat and Hollywood sunglasses finished me off. Josef came over with his hair dripping. I grabbed a towel and patted it dry. He liked allowing us girls to take care of him. He stood still, even closed his eyes, while I ran the brush through his silky black hair. He thanked me with a kiss to the cheek, then put on a tiny black speedo, his package filling it to the max. And we were ready to go. Mia blew us both a kiss.

  Luis was waiting to escort us. When we entered the lounging room he directed me straight back to the cushioned swing, and I sat obediently. The twang of a Spanish guitar and swish of maracas sailed up to us from the live music playing poolside. Josef went to the screened door and looked at Luis, who nodded for him to go. Josef disappeared through the door and down the set of stone steps to the pool. I had a perfect view of the pool from where I sat.

  My eyes immediately found Mr. Douglas sipping something brown on ice—probably scotch—under an umbrella with Marco. My heart warmed at the sight of him in his sunglasses, and I had to scold myself.

  A cloud moved and a streak of sunlight filtered into the lounging area. It was muted from the screens, but still so lovely. I needed it on my skin. I kicked off my high heels and stretched my legs out, letting the warm streak of light fall across my feet. I smiled to myself. Hello sunshine, old friend. I felt like I was doing something forbidden, stealing this moment with the sun. I looked up at Luis who gave me an uninterested glance. I turned my attention back to my feet, wiggling my toes.

  Down by the pool Marco called Perla over as a salsa tune began. She was an excellent salsa dancer, and Marco loved to show her off. He must have told her to dance, because she began to move, smiling at Marco and Mr. Douglas in turn. Marco watched her with adoring ownership. Mr. Douglas was harder to read whenever he was in a group setting like this. His lips were tilted up, kind of like a smile, but not. He didn’t come across as rude, necessarily, but contemplative, as if his mind were always elsewhere. His surroundings seemed to only mildly amuse him.

  As the song ended Mr. Douglas and the surrounding patrons clapped for Perla, who shyly took her place kneeling at Marco’s side. Someone must have come in through the veranda entrance because Marco smiled and stood. A short, thin man with a black ponytail came in and was greeted warmly by Marco. A blonde slave in a white minidress went to her knees and assumed the kneeling position when her master stopped to talk. She was as tall as her master. Probably European. Her hair nearly touched her ass. I felt kind of jealous of that hair. I liked mine, but I’d never been able to grow it out like that.

  Marco motioned to the girl and they seemed to be talking about her. Maybe she was new. I didn’t recognize the patron. And then Marco was adding Mr. Douglas to the conversation. All three men laughed. I wished I could hear what they were saying.

  Another of Marco’s men came into the sunroom, Paulo. He was usually in charge of me when Luis wasn’t around. The two of them started talking and I wished they’d be quiet so I could concentrate, not that I could hear anything anyway. Luis asked Paulo how newlywed life was, and then made a comment about Paulo’s fine young piece of ass wife and her sassy mouth. I held back an eye roll when Paulo started talking about how he pounded her into submission every night, and blah, blah, blah. Both men were cracking up laughing, being as vulgar as possible to impress one another.

  I turned my attention back to Mr. Douglas, scooting to the far edge of the padded swing to get the best view possible. And then my stomach turned. The blonde slave was standing now, and moving between Mr. Douglas’s legs. He looked her over, giving a series of slow nods while Marco talked, I assumed asking him questions of what he thought of the girl.

  I sat up taller.

  No.

  The girl was moving to sit on his lap.

  No!

  A frantic, nauseating jealousy rose up, choking me. She was sitting on his lap, looking far too pleased at the close-up of his handsome face. One of her lithe hands was around his shoulder and the other trailed up and down the middle of his chest.

  I stood, moving closer.

  When Mr. Douglas moved her mane of hair over her shoulder as if to get a better look, I reached for the screen door handle. My heart was pounding a distraught rhythm and my skin felt feverish. I became possessed by an impulsive urge to go down there and remind them that I was supposed to be the one taking care of him. I was here, ready to be called on, just as my master had asked of me. Had Marco forgotten? I could just remind him.

  I wasn’t in my right mind when I peeked behind me and found the two bodyguards in their own conversational world, clueless that I’d ever do anything as foolish as I was about to do. But in my desperate mind at that moment it made sense. I pulled open the door and rushed down the steps on my bare feet.

  The sun hit my face. A strong ocean breeze blew my hat off, over the rocks and down the cliffside. I didn’t care.

  “Maestro!” I called out to Marco. “Estoy aquí!” Master, I’m here.

  The shouts of Luis and Paulo sounded behind me, and for one moment I felt elated when Marco and Mr. Douglas turned and saw me. Now they remembered! But Marco’s look of confusion quickly turned to anger, and Mr. Douglas’s look of shock quickly turned to apprehension. He stood, practically tossing the slave girl off his lap.

  Luis barreled into me from behind, lifting me off my feet and running with me toward the house. I struggled against him at first, wanting him to put me down so I could explain. But by the time we hit the cool shade of the indoors my madness had cleared, swiftly replaced by a shameful horror at what I’d done.

  Luis dropped me to the floor where I banged my knee and cowered backward against the wall. Trembling began as multiple pairs of feet rushed in, voices raised, Marco asking Luis what the hell was going on. Everyone from the pool seemed to cram into the room to witness the spectacle I’d caused.

  I was shaking so hard. What had I done? What had I done? I wanted to bury myself in the floor as the shouts rang out above me. I flattened myself in a ball, pressing my face between my knees. And then someone had a handful of my hair and was yanking my head upward. Luis.

  “Answer him!” he shouted.

  Marco stood in front of me, his hands behind his back, that woeful look of disappointment on his face. I could only whimper because I hadn’t heard the question.

  “Lo siento,” I whispered.

  “My Angel.” His voice was calm, so calm. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but this is your gravest disobedience to me yet.”

  I swallowed hard and my eyes slipped to Mr. Douglas next to him. His jaw was set as if he were the one an
gered and scared. Did he think I was a bad girl now? I didn’t want him to think that. I was good. I’d been good so long.

  I found Josef in the door’s entrance. The sheer fear and sadness on his face made a single sob bubble up from my chest and a tear spilled over.

  Marco stepped forward and smacked me across the face.

  I gasped. He hadn’t hit me very hard, but a scorching flare of pain reverberated from my cheek and through my whole body. It was guilt. I had let him down.

  “You will be whipped.”

  I nodded, fighting back tears. It’d been so long since I had the urge to cry, and it was hard to hold back.

  “Your actions have also forfeited your prized possession,” he said coldly.

  My prized…? Oh, no.

  “No, Maestro,” I whispered. “Por favor, no.” Luis yanked my head again to shush me. My chin quivered.

  “Sí, Angel, sí,” Marco said in a low voice. “I was hoping it would not come to this, but you have pushed me too far this time.”

  Who would do it?

  The air was buzzing with excitement. All around us were hungry eyes.

  “What is her prized possession, Señor?” the wiry, short man asked with far too much enthusiasm.

  Marco stared at me for what felt like forever, building the tension in the room.

  “Her anal virginity.”

  Oohs and ahs and sniggers of enthusiasm rose up throughout the room. I shut my eyes, placing my palms on the floor to steady myself as dizziness took over. My insides quaked with icy fear, spreading to outward tremors.

  And then a low, clear, Scottish voice rang out above the din of whispers.

  “I’ll do it, Señor.” The room hushed and every set of eyes turned toward Mr. Douglas’s serious face as he addressed Marco. “Allow me to punish her.”

  He didn’t know what the hell’d gotten into him, but there was no way he was allowing any of these idiots to beat Angela on his watch, or let them get their dicks anywhere near her arse. He stared at Marco, waiting for his response, ready and more than willing to fight if it came to that. His muscles were tense and his neck was tight.

  He could see Marco was unsure. Contemplating.

  “I’ll pay,” Colin said. Fuck, he was desperate not to let anyone hurt her. Even if it meant he would have to hurt her himself. He knew he’d be a hell of a lot gentler than these shitebags.

  Finally, Marco nodded and said, “Very well. Perla, take the girl and prepare her. Mr. Douglas, follow me.”

  Colin felt the tension deflate from his body, only to return when he realized what the fuck he’d just volunteered for. He forced himself to follow Marco and not look back at Angela.

  What had happened to make her come running down the stairs like that? Colin replayed the events, but came up confused.

  He and Marco had been discussing his most recent painting. And then that wee man showed up with his Russian slave girl, and Marco thought it’d be “interesting” to experiment. Marco wondered if it was his Angel who was truly inspiring Colin, or if any beautiful blonde would do the trick. Colin played along, allowing the Russian to sit on his lap. And then Angela was running at them like mad. In fucking pigtails. At first he’d thought she was running from the guard Luis, but then it seemed as if she were running to Marco. Or maybe himself.

  What could possibly be so important that she’d break an enormous rule and put herself in a punishable position?

  Marco opened the solid doors to a darkened room. Not just dark from lack of light, but dark from every wall and the ceiling being black, and…holy Mary…

  Colin was no prude, but this room gave him a bit of the fucking creeps, followed closely by the swelling of his cock. Like everything else in this villa, he had dueling feelings—pushing and pulling inside him. Repulsion and curiosity.

  He stepped in and watched as Marco moved around the space, running his hand over a hanging whip, then a cane. He stopped next to a rounded thing Colin could only imagine someone being bent over, and he turned to face him.

  “Have you ever punished a female, Señor Douglas?”

  “Ah.” Colin cleared his throat. “No, Señor Ruiz. I have not.”

  Marco’s lip quirked up and he cocked his head. “Which of these fine instruments can you envision yourself using?”

  “Actually…I was thinking more along the lines of a good old fashioned hard spanking.” He held up his hand.

  Marco paused, then began chuckling, which quickly turned to an infectious laughter. Even the two stone faced bodyguards behind them laughed. Colin smirked, wondering how much of a fool he was making of himself, but Marco came over and patted his shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze and pointing at him.

  “I like you, Señor Douglas. You are what they call a breath of fresh air around here.”

  Colin grinned, but kept himself guarded as Marco continued.

  “You never did get to tell me if my amigo’s lovely Russian girl could provide inspiration for you?”

  Colin thought about lying, but his candid truths are what seemed to have earned Marco’s trust thus far. Marco was the type of man who could probably smell bullshit the second it left someone’s mouth. Slowly, with care, Colin shook his head. “Your Angel is the only female who has been able to do that for quite some time.”

  Marco’s voice was soft, contemplative. “So, she’s your muse, then?”

  “It seems so.”

  “And you’re willing to punish her?”

  “I am if she needs to learn a lesson that will keep her safe.” Colin felt a nudge of intuition, urging him forward. “Although I’m curious…as to why she is the only slave not permitted outdoors.”

  Marco pursed his lips, looked to the side, and was silent for a few moments. Colin wondered if he’d pushed too far, but he needed to appear as if he didn’t know the truth.

  “My Angel,” Marco began, “is special. She came to me in a rather unexpected way, and I’ve had to keep her protected from those who would threaten to steal her. No one can know she’s here.”

  Colin’s blood pumped harder with the heat of indignation, but he continued to play his part. “I see.”

  “Do you? Because it’s often difficult for me to see when it comes to Angel.”

  Was that guilt Colin heard in Marco’s voice? Well, his guilt was a worthless commodity seeing as Angela was still held captive, so Colin wasn’t about to soften his stance against the bastard.

  Marco cleared his throat as if he’d said too much. “Are you certain you won’t use an instrument? As far as our punishments go, hand spankings are not…conventional.”

  Shite. “Unless you’re opposed, I’m quite certain. If it’s all the same to you.”

  “Your hand,” Marco said with a chuckle. “Twenty strikes should be enough. I trust you to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.”

  “One I’ll never forget, as well, I’m sure,” Colin said with reluctance, but Marco laughed and cupped his shoulder again.

  “The first punishment is always one to be remembered. And if you enjoy dominating in such a way, you’ll crave that feeling the rest of your days.”

  Trepidation and ecstasy intertwined up Colin’s spine. He cleared his throat.

  “Where is the punishment to take place?”

  Marco opened a hand toward the room. “In here.” Then he looked at Collin and chuckled once again. “Ah, Señor, you have a romantic artist’s heart. Would you prefer your room?”

  Collin knew Marco would be watching no matter which room of the villa they were in, so if he was offering a more comfortable place than this cold torture chamber, Collin would accept. “Yes. The room would suite me better, I think.”

  Marco nodded.

  “I’ll have the girl delivered to you once she’s been prepared. As I said, this will be her first true anal experience. She’s quite frightened by the prospect, so you may meet some resistance.” Marco paused, holding Colin’s eyes. “Take her by force, if you must.”

  A dark thrill shot
straight to Colin’s crotch and he was so angry at himself for feeling it that he couldn’t speak.

  Good God…could he really go through with this? Then again, he didn’t have any options for getting out of it. Anal sex would not be easy to fake.

  Marco kept going. “Although I hardly doubt it will come to that. She seems more than willing to enjoy every moment she can with you.” Half of Marco’s mouth lifted.

  “Is that…out of the ordinary?”

  Marco chuckled. “It is, indeed. Angel is good at what she does, but she has not warmed to it the way I’d hoped. Until you showed.”

  When Marco cocked a complimentary eyebrow, Colin responded with a grin, because that’s how a stupid cunt should react. But inside he was overheating. He was good at calling bluffs, and Marco seemed to be telling the truth. The thought of Angela hating every second of her life here, but putting on a show for these men…and then the idea that she had warmed to him. That she enjoyed him. He liked that thought.

  “Thank you,” Colin said, sticking out his hand. Marco clasped it and they shook.

  “Thank you, Señor Douglas. This works out well. If anyone can open her eyes to the wonders of her own body, it’s you.” They released hands. “It would be helpful if you could get her to tell you why she behaved as she did.”

  Colin nodded. He intended to find out.

  “Oh, and one more thing…don’t let her come.”

  Colin froze at that. He couldn’t imagine that the girl would be aroused considering she feared what was to come, but he nodded again.

  He left Marco and headed to his room, feeling partly nervous like a virginal fucking laddie, and partly ill with dread. Under normal circumstances he’d be thrilled at the prospect of anal sex. This, however, was anything but normal. She fucking cried when Marco told her what was happening. And then he’d hit her. Only a small cuff to the cheek for effect, but it still made Colin want to come out of his skin and strangle the fuckface.