The Taming of Jessica (5 page)

‘God, your wife’s got a fucking amazing body,’ Damon drawled. ‘I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I saw a woman strip in that room who still had her original tits. Don’t know about you, Max, but I can’t stand those big, fake melons.’

Max didn’t reply, afraid his voice would crack and betray his excitement. Jessica was edging her panties down, keeping her legs together and trying to avoid revealing her pussy to the other woman for as long as she could.

‘My favourite bit will be coming up any time now,’ Damon confided. ‘The bit where the officer makes her bend over the table and show off everything. What do you think?’

Somehow, Max managed to say, ‘When you and I first talked about – about what we were going to make Jessica do, I started picturing it, but I never thought it would be as good as this. But then I never really thought Jess would submit. I thought she’d protest, argue, ask for me, but she hasn’t.’

‘That’s because, deep down, she wants this. Your wife’s a natural submissive, you lucky bastard.’ Damon chuckled. ‘Which is great, because it means that, sooner or later, we’re all going to get to enjoy a piece of her.’

‘Well, that’s not exactly why I brought her here,’ Max said, finally deciding to open up a little. ‘I’m trying to stop her letting other men fuck her whenever she gets the urge. I want her to be exclusive to me, to respond to my commands, bend to my will.’

‘And she will, Max, she will,’ Damon assured him, ‘but not before she’s been trained. Forgive me saying this, but you’re hardly the most experienced dominant on the island, now are you?’

Max shook his head. Until the other night, when he’d caught Jessica falling out of Envied half-dressed and freshly fucked, he’d never entertained more than the faintest thought of mastering her. Whereas Damon, and most of the other men who came to the island, were serious dominants, some even going so far as to take the opportunities their wealth afforded them to live the lifestyle on a 24/7 basis. The first time he’d issued an order in anger to Jessica had been the moment he’d told her to get in the Bentley outside the club, and he had some serious catching up to do if he was to attain the level of dominance Delice Abrams was so expertly displaying at this moment.

He dragged his eyes away from the sight of Jessica spreading herself over the desk, widening her stance on Officer Abrams’s command so the lips of her pussy and the pucker of her arsehole came into view. ‘So what are you suggesting I do?’

‘Give her the rest of the day to get used to the set-up, let her realise you haven’t exactly brought her to Disneyland, then put her in the auction tonight,’ Damon said. ‘There’ll be three other women on the block, but it’s not the first time here for any of them. The guys will go wild for some fresh meat, and you’ll get the pleasure of seeing the lovely Jessica being trained by an expert dom. Learn the tricks, see how she responds, and then you’ll have all the fun of making her yours once you get home.’ His grin widened to a leer. ‘Oh, and of course you’ll get to play with the house girls too. I mean, what’s the point in having any number of submissive honeys around the place if you don’t get to enjoy them?’

Max nodded, conceding the point. With the exception of a couple of dominant women, including Delice Abrams, who were employed for those times when a man might want to see his slave being disciplined by another girl, the female staff of Isla Barada were all supremely submissive, and more than willing to serve the guests in whatever fashion they might require. Damon really had got all this sorted out.

‘OK, so why don’t we get back to enjoying the show? I think Jessica’s just about to undergo a thorough cavity search.’

Though her words were muted by the thick glass separating the two rooms, Max could hear Jessica’s pleas as the customs officer probed between her legs with her latex-gloved hands. Indeed, he swore he could almost make out the soft squishing as two of those fingers worked their way into her wet cunt, while a third pushed into her bottom hole. Despite the embarrassing position his wife had been placed in, it was obvious to him that she was receiving pleasure from being treated in this dispassionate fashion.

Though he’d tried his best to hold back, Max couldn’t restrain himself from slipping a hand into the pocket of his chinos and surreptitiously stroking and squeezing his swollen cock. He wanted to dash into the other room and sink his shaft into his wife’s open, liquid channel, but that wasn’t how this scene was designed to end. Delice Abrams’s slender finger had strayed to Jessica’s clit now, buffing it, and Jess was clutching at the table, her body wracked with visible spasms and her face contorted with ecstasy.

‘She comes so beautifully,’ Damon commented, his voice hoarse as he fought to suppress the extent of his own excitement. ‘I can’t wait to see how she’ll look with the marks of a whipping on her skin.’

‘So what happens now?’ Max asked, as Jessica, without being allowed to dress, began to put all her possessions back into her carry-on bag.

‘Well, your lovely wife will be taken to her quarters – she’s sharing with Honey Forrester, I believe. As for you, my friend, I do believe a massage is in order. I guarantee it’ll ease some of the stress of your journey.’ Damon’s broad grin clearly indicated he knew Max had a more pressing urge that needed easing. ‘Let’s take you to see Jasmine. I think you’ll like her. She has a very talented mouth …’

Chapter Five

Almost as soon as Jessica had zipped up her bag, there was a knock at the door of the interrogation suite.

‘That’ll be someone come to take you to your room,’ Officer Abrams told her.

‘But – but I’m not dressed,’ Jessica replied, unable to believe this woman intended her to leave the room naked.

‘Get used to it,’ was the curt response. ‘Come in!’ the officer called out, and the door opened to admit a white-uniformed blonde, barely out of her teens.

‘Are you ready for me?’ the girl asked, her eyes sweeping over Jessica’s body with a look that seemed to indicate she’d seen it all before.

‘Sure, May. You know where you’re taking her, don’t you?’

The girl nodded. ‘If you’d like to follow me, Mrs Sheringham.’

Meekly, Jessica did as she was told, carrying her clothes in the crook of one arm and wheeling her luggage behind her. How had she let herself be put in this position, where she could be guided naked through Damon Barada’s hotel without a word of protest? Her senses were alert for a door opening, or someone turning a corner and coming upon them; already she was conjuring up some explanation for her lack of clothing, and why the unmistakable scent of sweat and sex juices clung to her bare skin. But the corridors were deserted; no staff members, no fellow guests to witness her humiliation.

Max, she seemed to recall, had been directed up a flight of stairs to his room, so she was surprised when May came to a halt before a plain wooden door on the ground floor. The girl slotted a key card into the lock and pushed open the door.

‘Here we go. This is your room.’

Jessica gained an impression of what looked like bamboo-framed bunk beds, white-painted walls, a plain wooden floor. More like a bedroom in some girls’ reform school than a luxury resort complex. ‘But my husband –’ she began, as May ushered her inside.

‘Is in one of the executive suites. Don’t worry, you’ll see him soon enough. Now, wouldn’t you like to meet your roommate?’ Without giving Jessica time for the implications of those statements to sink in, May continued, ‘Honey, Jessica’s here. Be nice to her.’

‘Oh, you know I’m nice to everyone,’ came a soft voice from the upper bunk.

Jessica watched in surprise as a woman appeared, not so much climbing down from the bunk as uncoiling herself and slithering to the floor. She appeared to be somewhere around the age of 30, though Jessica couldn’t help wondering whether her firm jawline and unlined skin owed something to the surgeon’s scalpel. Her glossy, waist-length black hair and the slightly upward set to her eyes hinted that her ancestry lay somewhere in the Far East. She wore a bottom-skimming white dress that clearly showed the bumps of her dark nipples and the shadow of her pubic hair beneath it, and her feet were bare. She didn’t seem in the slightest bit surprised to see that Jessica was entirely naked.

‘Now, let’s put your clothes away,’ May said, snatching the top, skirt, and underwear from Jessica’s grasp almost before she knew what was happening, and making a move to take her carry-on case too.

‘If you’ve got make-up and a wash bag in that thing, I’d take them out now,’ Honey advised from behind her. Instinct telling her the woman knew what she was talking about, Jessica did as she was told. Once she’d retrieved them, May almost snatched the case from her, unlocking a small cupboard built into one wall. There appeared to be another case in there, as expensive as Jessica’s own, but Jessica only got a glimpse before the cupboard was shut and locked again.

‘How do I get to my clothes?’ Jessica asked.

‘They’ll be taken out for you, depending on what you’ll need. The rest of the time, you wear the dress that’s been left on your bunk.’ May gestured to the bottom bunk, and Jessica saw a dress as sheer and skimpy as Honey’s lying on the bedcovers. It didn’t surprise her to see no underwear accompanied it. ‘I’ll leave you two to get to know each other, then.’ May gave her a polite smile, and retreated from the room.

Only when she’d gone did Jessica realise she hadn’t left them the key card. Wanting to call after the girl, she went to the door, but when she tried to open it, it didn’t budge. They were locked in.

‘Will someone tell me what the hell’s going on?’ Jessica almost sobbed, rattling the door handle in frantic fashion.

‘Oh goody, a virgin,’ Honey said, not unkindly. When Jessica turned to look at her, she added, ‘Seeing as everyone’s clearly been keeping you in the dark, why don’t I enlighten you? You can put that dress on if you want, but who wants to cover up a nice little figure like yours?’

This day was getting ever more surreal, Jessica thought as she reached for the dress and pulled it over her head. She’d been plugged, fucked, stripped, probed and made to come, and now she found herself in a room with a girl who was looking at her like she’d happily get between her legs and lap up all the juices that had spilled from her as she’d orgasmed under Officer Abrams’s expert touch.

‘But I’ll tell you what you really need before we go any further. Be a sweetheart and get the tooth mugs from the bathroom, will you?’

Opening the bathroom door, Jessica found a small room, as plain and functional as the bedroom, with room for a shower cubicle, toilet, and sink. She snatched up the glass tooth mugs that stood on a shelf above the sink, and returned to find Honey retrieving a bottle from under the mattress of the top bunk.

‘Vanilla vodka,’ she said, unscrewing the cap and pouring a generous amount of alcohol into each of the mugs. ‘Strictly forbidden in the girls’ rooms, of course, though your husband will have access to a superbly stocked minibar, and 24-hour room service if his tipple of choice isn’t already supplied. I’m pretty sure they know I have this, but they haven’t punished me for it – yet.’ She clinked her glass against Jessica’s. ‘Welcome to Isla Barada, babe.’

Again the talk of punishment. Jessica sat on her bunk, discovering the mattress was thicker and considerably springier than the thin, institutional thing she’d been expecting. She took a sip of the vodka, letting it warm her down to her belly as Honey arranged herself on the bed beside her, legs tucked under herself, and began to answer all the questions that had been buzzing round her brain since the moment she and Max had boarded the flight to Antigua.

‘So, you’ve clearly figured out this isn’t your average holiday resort …’

‘Well, when Max told me this place was the height of luxury, I really wasn’t expecting anything like this.’ Jessica flung out a hand, indicating the basic nature of their accommodation.

‘Oh but it is, and you’ll see just how luxurious it really is very soon. But all the perks, all the real treats are reserved for the men. After all, they’re the ones in charge here.’

Shaking her head, Jessica said, ‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s simple, babe. Damon Barada runs this place as a playground for men like him – rich, dominant men with submissive wives.’ Honey cast her a concerned look. ‘You are submissive, right?’

It was the first time anyone had posed the question to Jessica, and she considered it for a moment. The thrill she’d got when Max had hauled her over his knee and spanked her; the way she responded whenever anyone gave her an order, whether it be to take off her clothes or invite a stranger to use her however he wanted … ‘Yes,’ she said at length, ‘I suppose I must be.’

‘Well, this is how it works. Your husband, and mine, and all the other men here, are going to use us for their pleasure for as long as we’re here.’

So this was how Max was paying her back. She’d been using men for her pleasure, every time she hooked up with a stranger in a nightclub toilet or enjoyed a sweaty back alley fuck, and now the tables had been royally turned.

‘Refill your glass?’ Honey asked. Without realising it, Jessica had drained her drink, and now she held out the tooth mug for another shot of vodka.

‘You know, you’re the first person who’s been kind to me since we got to this place. That horrible customs officer, she treated me like I was a piece of meat …’ Jessica shuddered, and swallowed her drink. She closed her eyes as the alcohol burned through her, and when she opened them it was to see Honey grinning at her.

‘Oh Jessica, you’ve got a lot to learn.’ Honey reached out and stroked Jessica’s bare shoulder, her touch light and comforting. ‘And you won’t get a better teacher than me, I promise you.’

Suddenly, Jessica yearned to know more about her new roommate. ‘So, tell me how you come to be here?’

‘Because I promised when I was a girl that I’d never make the same mistake as my mother.’ Jessica was about to ask what mistake that might have been, but Honey beat her to the punch. ‘I was never going to marry a man without money. I know that sounds callous, but my mother came from nothing. Her family were dirt poor, doing their best to scrape a living any way they could. My father was English. He took up a teaching post at the university in Chiang Mai, and that’s where he met my mother. She worked in the canteen there. It was love at first sight, she always said.’ Honey scoffed, as though she didn’t believe in the concept. ‘They were married two months after they first met, and when he went back to London, he took his young Thai bride back with him. Now, I’m not saying they weren’t happy – they were, blissfully so, right up until the day he died – but money never stopped being a struggle for us. I grew so sick of not having the nice things lots of my friends had, of always having to scrimp and save, that I determined I would marry for money, not love.’

‘So you don’t love your husband?’

‘Oh, I’m very fond of Ray.’ Honey grinned. ‘And not just because he owns a huge chunk of Soho and is worth close to half a billion pounds. The fact he likes to beat my arse black and blue with a paddle with his initials cut into it is just a bonus. And the other ladies here will tell you the same – love’s all very well, but money makes it so much better.’

‘Are there lots of couples here this week?’ Jessica was processing the thought of being used by any number of men, as well as Honey’s casual assertion that being rich was what really mattered. For her, the bonus was that Max had money; she knew she’d love him just as much if he was a poor but hard-working academic, like Honey’s father had been.

Her new friend shook her head. ‘No, last night there was just me and Ray, and Chester Macken and his wife, Simone. And Damon mentioned over dinner that two more couples were arriving today …’

Jessica thought of their travelling companions on the plane to St Thomas, the pneumatic blonde and her elderly husband, and nodded.

‘So that’s it. But there are five or six single men as paying guests, a couple of whom are really hot, let me tell you. I’ve been here three times before, and I can safely say this is the best selection of guys Damon’s had staying here.’ Her mouth quirked in a sly smile as she regarded Jessica. ‘The real question is who’ll get to master you for the week.’

‘Max will, surely? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it, so he can dominate me?’

‘Maybe, maybe not. Some men like to see their wife being punished by another man. It adds to their thrill. And then, of course, they can punish her later for being such a slut.’

‘That hardly seems fair.’

‘Like I say, babe, you’ve got a lot to learn. But I doubt we’ll find out any more until tonight. That’s when the auction happens.’

‘Auction?’

‘Oh, it’s one of Damon’s regular events. Once all the female guests have arrived, he puts them on the auction block and sells them to the highest bidder. It’s quite exciting, really, not knowing who’s going to buy you or how much you might be worth. But don’t worry about that now …’

Scooting closer to Jessica, Honey wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into an embrace. Their lips met, Jessica tasting the lingering remains of vodka and the unique sweetness of Honey’s mouth. She expected the kiss to turn into something more, for Honey to pull her down to the mattress so she could lick and lap a trail down her body, all the way to her pussy, but it seemed for now she was just content to cuddle Jessica close. When Jessica felt her eyelids beginning to flutter shut, sleep threatening to claim her, she didn’t fight the feeling. In London, it would be gone midnight now, and she’d had a long, strange day. The night lying ahead of her promised to be longer and even stranger.

Wrapped in Honey’s arms, she slept, dreaming of strange men whipping her, claiming her, making her into the submissive Max clearly hoped she could be.

The sound of the door being opened jolted her into wakefulness. For a moment, she had no idea where she was, then she saw Honey’s arm draped loosely over her breasts, heard the soft rise and fall of the other woman’s breathing, and awareness rushed back.

‘Honey, wake up,’ she muttered, scrambling to sit up, ‘someone’s here.’

‘Rise and shine, ladies.’ The woman who addressed them was Officer Abrams – or had been the last time Honey had seen her. Gone was the customs official’s outfit. Now she wore the crisp white dress with popper fastenings down the front that seemed to be the uniform for Damon Barada’s female staff. Jessica’s stomach gave a lurch as she considered the possibility that her interrogation and extended strip-search had all been some kind of kinky set-up. ‘It’s nearly time to get you ready for the auction. But first, a little dinner.’

She clapped her hands, and May entered the room, wheeling a trolley on which were two trays, each containing a plate covered by a metal dome, and a glass of iced water. May took one of the trays and handed it to Honey. She took the cover off the plate, to reveal a salmon fillet drizzled in a lemon-scented sauce, a plump baked potato from which rose an appetising wisp of steam, and a green salad. At least they’re not going to starve us while we’re here, Jessica thought with some relief. She took her own tray gratefully; her last meal had been on the flight from London, and suddenly she had a voracious appetite.

Her own dinner consisted of a baguette stuffed with slices of chicken and avocado, a side salad studded with juicy cherry tomatoes, and a crisp red eating apple. She couldn’t swear to it, but the apple looked identical to the one that had been confiscated from her luggage. It didn’t surprise her. Just the latest in a long line of mind-fucks, she told herself.