Island Slave Ch. 04

September 28, 1995

Dear Betsy,

He spent all of yesterday putting the finishing touches to the painting. Today, he started one of his payment pictures. He tied me to the cross and whipped my front side with a crop. He kept it up until I was in tears. Every time the tears dried up and could not be seen again, he repeated the process. I am so sore and very glad that he will take tomorrow to work on the painting without me. He is an amazingly fast artist, yet still very good. I suspect he has an amazing memory.

November 1, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Payment number two was today. This time he put me into a hog tie and came on my face. He didn't tell me what he was going to do before he did it, he just whipped his cock out and masturbated until he covered my face with cum. When I tried to complain, he reminded me that his pictures could be anything he wanted, and he wanted a cum soaked face for this one.

I guess what bothered me the most was how aroused I was by the feel and smell of his cum on me. After it had dried, I found that I wanted him to paint me with himself again. I didn't say anything, but the desire was there. I had a lot of time to think, while lying tied there on the floor. The desire to have Quinn pass me around is still there, though I've ignored it. I had hoped that this painting would somehow satisfy the need to be more fully Quinn's slave. It seems that it is only making me crave even deeper slavery.

November 3, 1995

Dear Betsy,

What have I done? For his third picture, Steven chained me to the rape rack. He gagged me and then fucked me. He wanted a painting of me with cum dripping from my pussy. I didn't even struggle. I knew what he was going to do as soon as he directed me to the rack and I did nothing to stop him. It was the single most humiliating and submissive thing that has ever happened to me. I came twice while he was fucking me.

I feel so dirty inside. After he took me down, I spent the rest of the day trying to clean myself, but nothing seemed to make me feel clean. I told him to leave tonight and to never come back. I have my gift and he has his payment. He can finish the last painting back in the states.

I can never tell Quinn of this. It would break his heart and he would send me away. I will still give him the painting and explain how I paid for it, but he will never know that Steven fucked me and that I enjoyed it. I will take this to my grave. Between now and then, I will be the best slave that I am capable of.

November 18, 1995

Dear Betsy,

It's Quinn's birthday. He loved the painting, though he also punished me for inviting the artist to the mansion without permission. It was a small price to pay. It hangs in our bedroom. Overlooking the bed where he frequently enjoys me.

I've thrown myself into my slavery. He seems so joyful at the change in me, the way I fawn over him and treat him like the king of the world. If only he knew that this new subservience comes from guilt. I think I might be depressed. Nothing seems to make me happy anymore. I fake it well enough and I still enjoy being whipped and fucked by Quinn. I don't feel like his slave, however.

I gave myself to another and that is so horrible. I need to know that I'm his again. He needs to take me in some special way and make me his. I want him to brand me, mark me as his property. Maybe that will help drive the guilt away.

November 20, 1995

Dear Betsy,

Quinn refused to even consider branding me. As he put it, "I will not mar your beautiful flesh with such a hideous thing." When I tried to explain my need to feel more his, he said that I will never be anything but his. His use of me, his feely given pain, should be enough to make me feel like I belong to him.

It isn't. Steven gave me pain and used me. I need to give Quinn something that no one else has had from me. But I can't explain that, not without telling him of my betrayal. What am I going to do?

December 21, 1995

Dear Betsy,

It has been a sad Christmas season for me. I don't feel like a slave anymore. Quinn still enjoys me, but I don't enjoy him anymore. He won't make me his. I feel like some slut who will put out for anyone. Why shouldn't I. That's what I did. The first man other than Quinn that tried to have me, I rolled over for. I don't deserve Quinn.

January 4, 1996

Dear Betsy,

I'm leaving. I can't bear to stay with Quinn after my betrayal. I've pleaded with him to mark me, to brand me as his personal property, but he refuses. He has forbidden me to bring it up again. I've been trolling the web when I can't sleep. There is a man who advertises in an alternative online dating service for slave/sluts. He promises to treat them like property and force them to serve his every whim. He's very up front about what he wants. He wants a total slave who will give up everything to be with him. She must agree to give up all rights to safe words and the ability to refuse anything. I've e-mailed him and asked him to take me.

I can't be Quinn's, not with what I've done to him. I can't go back to what I was before. I've tasted slavery and I need it. Master Greg promises that I will be used for people's pleasure, both sexually and sadistically. He says that he will train me to be a perfectly obedient slave, share me freely with men and women, some simply because they pay him. When I no longer please him, he will sell me to another.

I can't think of a better punishment for my betrayal than to be reduced to a piece of meat that no one gives a damn about. Tomorrow, I will retrieve the clothes that Bonita saved for me and walk to the village. Every year on the 5th, the cruise people stop by and make sure that the equipment they installed during the last cruise season is working properly. I will leave with them for the states. I'm sure that $1000 from Quinn's cash box will be enough to bribe my way onto their sea plane.

This will be my last entry. I no longer deserve to have opinions and feelings. I will miss this. I've been recording my thoughts and feelings ever since I was twelve years old. I still love Quinn and always will. Goodbye.

* * *

Carla was crying as she read the last words of Melanie's journal. Shaking her head, she whispered, "He would have forgiven you, Melanie." There were a few loose sheets of paper in the back of the journal. They were two newspaper clippings and a letter from a private detective agency. Reading the letter, she was brought to tears again.

* * *

Dear Mister Sanchez,

As per your instructions, we started the investigation into the whereabouts of Melanie Thiesman. Our initial inquiries were fruitless. To all appearances, Ms. Thiesman had disappeared from the face of the earth. As you may know, this is very difficult to do in our modern society. Everything we do leaves an electronic trail that an experienced investigator can follow.

The computer you sent us gave us the lead we needed. Just before her disappearance, Ms. Thiesman was in communication with a person describing himself as a "slave trainer." Starting from that lead, we tracked down this Master Greg and determined that, yes, Ms. Thiesman did indeed turn herself over to him to be trained as a sex slave. I'm afraid that there is nothing that can legally be done about this, however. Ms. Thiesman signed a contract that made it clear that she was doing so of her own free will. While such a contract has no legal force, it does protect Master Greg form legal repercussions.

I regret to inform you that Ms. Thiesman died six weeks ago from an aggressive form of breast cancer. All the records indicate that Master Greg spared no expense in trying to have her treated for the cancer, but all treatments were to no avail. When told that we represented someone from earlier in her life, Master Greg gave us this journal and asked that it be forwarded to you, someone he seemed to know of already, but not how to reach you.

Enclosed is our final bill for the completed investigation. I'm sorry that the results were less than what you wanted to find. Please accept my condolences on the loss you have suffered. Sincerely, Thomas Payne.

* * *

Carla saw that the articles were from alternative newspapers. The first was a review of a scene at a local sex club. It praised Master Greg and slave M. for an enjoyable scene and first rate submission. It was obvious to all that M. truly enjoyed the humiliation she was subjected to. The second was an article on branding. Melanie's picture, with a prominently displayed brand, was in the article.

Carla put the journal and the included papers down, her heart breaking for Quinn and Melanie. She wondered if Quinn had ever read the journal. It might have been too painful. She realized now what prompted Quinn to take her prisoner. He had been trying to sooth the ongoing pain of his loss with sex for years. Carla was the first woman that he felt could heal the pain, not just sooth it. As the clock downstairs struck 10:00 on December 21, 2007, Carla continued to cry softly and wonder just what she was going to do now that she knew the truth.

Thanks D. for another great editing job. To my readers, I do value your feedback, both the good and the bad. If there is something that makes these stories less enjoyable, I want to know what it is. If there is something that makes them particularly enjoyable, let me know about that as well.