[[[-Island_Fever39.TXT-]]] +========================================================================+ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ || =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- || || ------------------- Island Fever ------------------- || || -------------------- An erotic story ------------------ || || --------------------- M/F, F/F and a lot more ----------------- || || ---------------------- Written by JeremyDCP ---------------- || || ----------------------- Copyright (c) 2014 --------------- || || =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- || ------------------------------------------------------------------------ +========================================================================+ ======================\___________________________________________________ Chapter 39: Servitude --------------------------------------------------- ========================================================================== Finding myself in full role-playing mode, I had to stay calm and at least try to look the part of a dominant Master. I could not allow myself to get too emotionally high, or too low. I had to be strict and demanding, yet fair at the same time. But how was I supposed to have a level head and keep my senses in check when I had _this_ standing in front of me? My heart was fluttering within my chest as the lovely and insatiable Amy had just emerged from the nearby washroom. A remarkable, stunning vision of red-headed submissive beauty, Amy presented herself to me wearing a French's maid's outfit. Exquisitely small and very low-cut, the sinful, sexy uniform seemed straight out of an adult mail order catalog. In reality, I had purchased it for Amy at a lingerie shop during our recent trip to Lima. The French maid's uniform was black, with a halter-style design for its top that did a terrible (but mouth-watering) job of trying to conceal Amy's massive breasts. It teased a lot of cleavage as well, thus the full, outer sides of Amy's breasts were totally visible. Lacey white ruffles adorned the 31-year-old's throat and wrists, and a pair of black thigh-high stockings with garter straps encased both of her magnificent legs. The skirt, made of fine satin, ended several inches above those stockings and offered subtle glimpses of the black, silky G-string which Amy wore underneath it. Amy also had on black pumps with five-inch heels and a frilly, lacey hat atop her pretty head. I gulped my throat and felt my aching cock rustle within my trousers as Amy spun around in a circle for me, proudly modeling the lovely, exquisite outfit. In the process, her flimsy, little skirt flew upwards, offering me a quick peak of the black G-string panties that she wore underneath it. Now facing me and making eye contact, the satin fabric made a gentle crinkling sound as Amy reached down with both hands to smooth her skirt out. Her feeble little attempt at being coy was humorous, but even Amy realized I knew much better than that. The bloom was off this rose long ago. Of course, I would not have it any other way. The young woman then twirled one of her spiked heels upon the lush, carpeted floor, even giggling in the process. I could tell that Amy was having a great time. Not only did she enjoy dolling herself up like this, but Amy also knew what I had in store for her today. I was going to dominate Amy and take complete, total control of her, which was what she had wanted from me all along. This was, quite simply, going to be _her day_. "Do you like it, Jeremy?" Amy asked me with a grin. She was absolutely glowing. Still, Amy reached under her skirt and tugged at her black G-string. "I can't believe you told me to wear panties. You know I HATE wearing panties!" "Get down on your knees," I simply told her, my voice uncharacteristically strict. "And address me properly." "I'm sorry, Master," Amy immediately complied, lowering her gaze in a submissive manner and dutifully dropping to her knees. She momentarily placed both hands upon the floor to balance herself, then stood erect and proud, yet looked at me with worrisome eyes. "I'm sorry..." Amy suddenly seemed so concerned at my tone of voice that I got the sense she just wanted to curl up into a ball and start crying. It was okay, though. This was part of the process for us. It was part of the game. I was learning what it took to be her dominant Master in life. Amy was learning what I expected out of her. She was in _training_. "Hands behind your back." Amy breathed deep and sighed intently as she followed instructions, quickly reaching behind herself with both arms and then clasping her hands together at the small of her back. Of course, this caused Amy's wondrous, D-cup breasts to jut out even more across the top of her uniform. Amy realized it too, because she arched her back, thus exaggerating her bust-line even more. Oh, how I just wanted to end the role-play and ravage this tempting woman fully and completely right now. I needed patience, though... "_I'm sorry, Master_ is a phrase that should, under no circumstances, be part of your regular vocabulary." Amy cringed and nodded her head in acceptance as I stood up from the chair and made my way over to her. "I never want to hear that you are SORRY for anything." I put my hand on her shoulder, then moved it downward and swatted her naughty ass three times in succession with sharp, biting blows. "Submissives are not supposed to be SORRY!" "Yes, Master," Amy nodded, a single tear streaking down her face. Her body was already trembling. I did not act quite this strong-willed and dominant around her all that often, but Amy sure did seem to appreciate it when I did. If it was up to her, I would be this way all the time. I could see the outline of Amy's lush nipples as they were all nice and snug upon the front of her halter-like top. If I undid just that one button, her breasts would pour out. Amy's green eyes went wide and she groaned in response as I retrieved a pair of velcro handcuffs from the nearby hutch. Amy gasped as I latched onto her right forearm and forcefully pinned it to her back. I slipped the velcro restraint around her right wrist, then did the same for her left arm and wrist. With just a three inch chain between them, the straps ensured that Amy's hands and arms were literally immobilized, and would stay that way until I saw fit to release them. "Try and break free," I instructed her. Amy huffed and panted, and the muscles within her beautiful body contracted, but there was no possible way that she could sever these bonds. Still, it was highly erotic for me to watch her put up a fight and struggle. I especially enjoyed the way her breasts flopped and bounced about as she wiggled her torso from side-to-side, still trying to free herself. She even squealed out in (mock) protest. "That's enough," I advised her, before returning to my chair and taking a seat in it. Now motionless, Amy looked at me attentively from her knees. But I just sat there. For a good 60 seconds, I simply stared at Amy and silently admired her. With both hands bound behind her back, Amy's shoulders looked a bit contorted and uncomfortable. But Amy quickly became restless, though, as I continued to appraise her with my eyes. She shifted her weight to one knee, then the other. "Impatient, are we?" I teased her. "No, Master," Amy answered, before realizing that she had actually just lied to me. A minor, white lie, but a lie nonetheless. "I MEAN, yes, Master! Yes! Yes, I am becoming impatient." Still, the damage was done. And she knew it. "You're awfully bratty today," were my words, which caused Amy to swallow hard and frown. "Looks like you leave me no choice - I am going to have to punish you." Amy cringed yet again, then reluctantly nodded her head. "Turn around and bend over." Amy spun herself in a half-circle upon her knees, then leaned forward until her shoulders and forehead reached the floor. With both hands still restrained behind her back, Amy placed the side of her face upon the carpet and looked toward me out of the corner of one eye. She looked so incredibly tantalizing in that position with her uniform on. "Ass up," I demanded, to which Amy raised her hips high into the air and thrust her backside out proudly. But, I thought she could do better. I stepped forward and smacked her thigh, insisting, "Higher! Get that ass higher!" Once Amy had stretched herself to the max, her perfect ass pointed skyward, I nodded my head and smiled inwardly. I took the hem of her little skirt and neatly tucked it into its waistband, thus exposing her vulnerable ass even more. "I want you to think about using proper etiquette around me from now on while I discipline you," I said, dropping to my own knees and moving directly behind Amy's upturned ass. "Yes, Master..." "You need to watch your mouth," I also warned her, before coming up with an idea. I moved over toward a massive trunk that was in the corner (it had the name _AMY_ stitched out across its front), then fished out a black ball gag that had two straps attached to it, only to quickly return to her. "This will keep you out of trouble for awhile," I offered, pressing the large ball to her mouth and forcing it between her lips, as well as her teeth. Amy made a muffling sound, and once the gag was secure in her mouth, I wrapped the two straps around her head and fastened them tightly. "Hmmmph..." was the only word Amy could now mutter. "Do you remember how teachers used to punish naughty schoolgirls back in the day?" I asked. Amy's green eyes were now bulging from their sockets as I retrieved a thick, bamboo cane and waved it about in front of her face. Clearly, Amy never once thought that I would use something that could potentially leave a long and ever-lasting mark on her such as a bamboo cane. These things, from all accounts, were supposed to _hurt_. "It's time for some old-fashioned discipline." Her backside positioned perfectly, I brought the cane down hard - perhaps too hard - so she would know that I meant business. Amy screamed and cried out like never before upon her gag, her whole body vibrating, as she rocked her face from side-to-side. I allowed the pain to linger and simmer for a bit, and hopefully spread to all parts of her body, but soon Amy looked back at me with a wild glint. I could tell that she wanted more. She actually wanted me to cane her some more. And probably much harder, too. I offered her another forceful stroke with the switch, and then found myself shocked that the first had already left an indelible red mark upon her vulnerable ass. Amy screamed again as I gave her a third. Then, I set the cane down upon the floor and promptly clipped away the back half of her G-string with a small pair of surgical scissors. I moved my hand between her thighs and rubbed her pussy. She was already sopping wet. More tears were streaming down her face as she glared back at me. Without warning, I brought my hand back and, with the full force of my arm, smacked it hard across her backside. There was an aura of fear and discomfort across her face, but also the lust that I was looking for. It provided me the fuel that I needed to push forward. "I'm going to give you ten more lashes with the cane, pet. Then we can talk about being a good girl." Amy shook her head frantically and tried to speak through her gag, but it was no use. I thwacked her nine times with the cane in rapid, quick-fire progression, as she gasped and cried in response. Her backside writhed about in sweet pain, the sensations making it rock back-and-forth in a truly lewd, wanton fashion. Her wrists strained against the unforgiving velcro handcuffs; by the eighth stroke I had to hold her body down because her desperate movements may have pulled her away from the desired (disciplinary) position. When I delivered the tenth (and final) horrible blow, Amy reared her head back completely and her red hair thrashed from side-to-side as she shook it as if to refuse the punishment she had been given. Satisfied for now, I moved back and surveyed my work. Amy was quite feisty, indeed, but I knew with enough time and effort I could break her. I leaned in closer and undid the two straps that held the ball gag in place. Once I removed it, Amy opened and closed her mouth several times, stretching her jaws and its accompanying muscles to relieve any tension and stress. "Your panties are completely soaked," I casually informed her, pulling the garment from her hips with my thumb and forefinger. I took a quick whiff and found myself overjoyed with the fresh aroma of pussy juice. Next, however, I placed the panties upon the side of her face and head. Amy shook her head quite violently, and the panties fell off. I picked them up and put them back onto her head as she glared back at me with hard, unrelenting eyes. "If you try and shake those panties off again," I warned her, "I will give you 20 more lashes with the cane." Amy's expression quickly changed, naturally, to one of fear and anxiety. She let out a miserable whimper and now looked back at me with wide, puppy-dog eyes. "Now try and act like a good girl, and be proud you have soiled panties on your head." I was not a sadist. I could, in fact, never truly cause any harm to another human being - especially a woman. But this was what Amy wanted. She _wanted_ to submit to me. Amy wanted to be feel protected and cherished, but she also had the desire to be punished when it was truly necessary. Receiving discipline was, in fact, quite paramount to her. It was an integral aspect for her of being submissive. Still, I was not a sadist. I believe the amount of force that I was using to get the physical side of her punishments across was actually quite timid. On a scale of one to ten with five being normal for standard BDSM play, I was giving her a three, or a four, at the very most. It was difficult enough for me to do this as it was, but the overall driving force that kept me going was the simple fact that this was what Amy wanted. She _needed_ it. Even when she cried and complained, down deep, Amy still wanted me to discipline her. I even got the sense that she wanted me to ramp things up to a seven or an eight, although in good conscience I could not. My ultimate goal, though, was to seize control of her mind. I did not need to physically demolish and brutalize Amy in order to get what I wanted. Amy had been in love with me since day one, and had an overwhelming amount of respect for me as well. That little, timid, submissive girl inside of her wanted me to not only love her, but also shield her from all of the perils in her life. Amy wanted to feel safe and protected, and ultimately give up all control. Along with that, of course, came discipline when merited. I placed my right hand upon her quivering backside and caressed it. Amy sighed and moaned at the raw sensation, then I began to work my fingers down between her pussy lips. "Was there a flash-flood down here that I was unaware of?" were my prodding words, a pair of fingers diving deep. "Did you have an orgasm while I gave you that spanking?" I jammed a third finger into her and insisted, "Did you, pet?" "I... I... I was masturbating, Master, while I was getting ready and... and putting the French maid uniform on for you." "Did I give you permission to masturbate?" Amy mashed her eyelids together and cringed, "No Master, you... you did not." "What am I going to do with you?" I sighed, shaking my head, as I pelted her backside twice with heavy-handed blows. The force from the second one caused Amy to involuntary jerk her head, which made the panties slip from her face and drop harmlessly to the floor. She then hemmed and hawed in utter desperation, obviously now fearful that I was going to give her 20 additional whacks with the cane. "Do I really need to up your training, so to speak, and bring it to a whole other level?" was my question for her. "You have been very disobedient today, Amy. What's worse, you have been very reckless. Since when were you given the right of having free will? Since when do you have the right to even remotely touch yourself, let alone masturbate, without asking me first?" I slapped her ass three times in quick, stinging succession, then quietly proclaimed, "I believe I need to do something to correct your behavior." "Please, Master!" Amy begged, tears literally in her voice. "Please! I'll be better for you! I... I want to obey you, and make you happy. I... just please... don't p-punish me again. Please, Master... oh God, please!" I picked up her soiled panties from the floor and mused, "I am sorry, Amy, but you deserve to be punished... and you WILL be punished." Before she could respond, I stuffed the panties into her mouth, thus making an impromptu gag out of them. Amy coughed and momentarily choked on the soft lace. Despite her sobs otherwise, Amy wanted the discipline. She _needed_ it. She _craved_ it. As a veteran submissive, the 31-year-old knew that not only would the forthcoming discipline be warranted, but that she actually deserved it. I moved back to the chair and took a seat there, only to then pat my thigh. "Over my lap, Amy. Now." Those panties still stuffed in her mouth, Amy managed to make it to her feet without use of her hands. One of her fishnet stockings, which went so well with the French maid outfit, now had a massive hole near her right knee. It had somehow gotten ripped during her prior ordeal. Frazzled, Amy came over to me and slowly, but surely, spread herself out across my trusting, protective lap. I watched with admiration as her long-flowing red hair cascaded down around her face as she hung her head low while at the same time, her backside, still raw and simmering from the cane, was offered up to me. That ass of hers looked so prim and proper as it jiggled for my lecherous eyes. "Do you understand why I am going to punish you?" Unable to speak, Amy made a pathetic sound and nodded her head in response. Even as I placed a tender, reassuring hand upon her backside, Amy flinched anyway. She flinched as if a gunshot had gone off. The keys to her mind, it seemed, were right there for the taking. "You're lucky I don't give you the 20 lashes with the cane," I told her, reaching into the aforementioned trunk and fishing out a hardwood paddle. Amy winced and moaned, her eyes looking back and fixated upon the paddle, as I grabbed a clump of her hair and rearranged it so it fell down the side of her neck. Over the span of the next ten seconds, I rocked her ass with the paddle five times. Each blow landed in a different spot; none were too harsh, but Amy was gently sobbing at the end of it regardless. Not surprisingly, I sensed a bit of moisture on one of my trouser legs. It was pussy juice. "You may spit the panties out of your mouth." "Oh my God!" Amy whined after the panties, slick with her saliva, fell to the floor. "Oh God..." Without warning, I began to paddle Amy again. I gave her a total of seven swats as she began to squirm and writhe upon my lap, her body convulsing and those cries becoming louder and even more desperate. Of course, they were a bit harder and more severe than the initial set. "Thank me, Amy." "Oh God, Master... oh my God..." I gave her five more whacks with the paddle. "Thank me, Amy." "Oh my God!" Five more. "OH, MASTER... OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" This time, I brought the paddle down with the most amount of force yet (it would probably register as a seven). It caused Amy to jump in my lap and let out her loudest scream yet. It must have rocked her to her very core, because even her high-heeled feet were twitching and convulsing. "Thank you, Master! Thank you, Master!" "Good girl," I nodded, putting the paddle away. I placed my right hand on her exposed, smoldering skin, and caressed it gently. "Does that little ass of yours hurt, pet?" "Yes, Master," she sobbed, looking back at me with eyes now redder than her hair. "Did you learn your lesson today?" "Yes, Master." "You're such a good girl when you obey," I complimented her, now undoing the velcro straps which had restrained her hands for so long. Amy immediately brought them in front of her as she was still over my lap, then squeezed each of her wrists and wrung them out to get some feeling back. "Th-Thank you, Master." "You may get down on your knees and face me now, pet." Amy nearly stumbled as she removed herself from my lap. She immediately dropped to her knees, then placed both hands behind her back yet again (like a good submissive should) and proudly jutted her breasts outward. The French maid outfit she had on was starting to look a bit tattered. I reached into my pocket and pulled something out, but kept it hidden from Amy's curious eyes in a balled-up fist. I then undid my trousers and pulled them, as well as my briefs, downward. My cock, needless to say, was ready to burst. It plunged out, standing firm and straight, and wobbled obscenely before Amy's suddenly adoring gaze. "Do you know what this is?" I asked her, opening my fist and revealing a plastic bag with two white pills inside. Amy seemed confused. "That's... my medicine... Master?" "Yes," I informed her. "Two pills - your daily dose of _Lexapro_ - your anti-depressant. Didn't you ask me two weeks ago, after your visit to Dr. Humala on the mainland, if I would help you in taking your medicine every single day from now on? Without my help, you thought you may forget?" "Yes, Master," she nodded. "You have not taken your medicine yet today..." "No, Master. It's not time for a few hours yet." Amy's mouth went slightly ajar and she watched with pure fascination as I first removed the two pills from the sleeve, then placed each of them on the thick, bulging head of my cock. I held steady, not wanting either pill to topple off. That would have just ruined the spectacle. "Take your medicine," I told her. "Take it now." Again confused, Amy glanced up at my face, then my cock, face, cock and face again. "Don't make me get the flogger." With that, in one full swoop, Amy leaned forward, opening and closing her mouth over the end of my shaft. She quickly pulled back, her eyes fixated on mine, and I noticed the dose of _Lexapro_ was suddenly gone. "Good girl," I smiled, reaching for a glass of water and offering it to her. "Drink." "Thank you, Master," Amy cooed, using both hands to hold the small glass as she sipped the water. "Thank you so much." "Mouth," I said to her. "Open your mouth. Tongue out." Again, Amy did as she was instructed, opening her mouth and extending her tongue, its tip even curling underneath her lower lip for extra emphasis. I stepped forward and smacked my cock across her tongue, then grabbed either side of her head and thrusted myself hard and fast into her. Not expecting such force, Amy gagged and choked, but that was not going to stop me from continuing. My hips were an absolute blur as I blasted her mouth, driving the tip of my cock down her throat. I trusted that she could make the necessary adjustments in order not to gag or choke, and of course I was right. In no time flat Amy took me like a pro, her eyes wide and staring up at me with absolute devotion pouring from them as I erotically impaled her face and mouth. With one final thrust, I jammed my cock so deep into her that her nose was squished up and contorted against my pubic bone. "Swallow every last drop," was my simple demand, as sperm began to jettison from my shaft. "EVERY last drop!" I tipped my head back and roared like a wild animal, the juices flowing from my shaft as if a river dam had burst. I did not even know where all of it was coming from - this was perhaps my biggest and most monstrous load ever. It just kept pumping out more. Even as I crested downward from the incredible height of orgasm, it had slowed down, but was still oozing with sperm. And much to her credit, Amy swallowed every last ounce. "Thank you, Master," the 31-year-old garbled when I finally withdrew my cock from her mouth. I reached down and touched the side of her head with my hand, then tossed aside the frilly maid's hat she had been wearing. Feeling winded and tired, I took a step back and returned to a seated position upon the chair. I breathed deeply and sighed in utter pleasure, the after-effects of my climax still reverberating throughout my body. I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them and smiled graciously at Amy. "Do you know why I had you put on a French maid's uniform today?" "Because it pleases you, Master." That was not the specific answer I was looking for, but it was good enough. It was how a true submissive would respond. "Come here," I said, my voice now soft, as I beckoned Amy with my hand and fingers. When she got close, I pulled her onto my lap and had her to take a seat there. Amy hissed and mewed as a result; her ass must have really been sore and tender, and aching. There was actually some discomfort for her in just sitting down. I felt sorry for her, but I could never allow that to show. "You may call me Jeremy for now. We are going to suspend Master and slave play." Suddenly, Amy was pouting. "Okay." "Is this what you want?" I asked her for literally the millionth time. "This is how you want to be treated?" Amy nodded her head and coyly replied, "Yes." "Why?" "Because I enjoy it." "What makes you enjoy it, though?" Amy laughed and shrugged her shoulders, perhaps unsure of what to say. "I don't know, Jeremy. Relinquishing control to someone that I know I can trust... the idea has always been a massive turn-on for me. I trust you more than anyone I've ever known in my life. I know that you will take the control that I offer you, and use it for my own good. I know that you will not abuse it." "I've never been good at making decisions," Amy continued. "Most of the decisions I have made in life ultimately turn out to backfire on me. It has been that way for years. I want... I want you to make my decisions... for me." "The truth is, Jeremy, I have never been happier than I have during these six weeks that I have been here. In fact, this is the first time in my whole, entire life that I can truthfully say that I actually AM happy. I enjoy being with you, Jeremy, and I especially enjoy submitting to you." "I have always been naturally submissive and obedient," Amy told me. "Even when I was young, everyone always said what a polite, little girl I was. I never once talked back to my parents or any other adult, for that matter. My parents will tell you that I barely even cried when I was a baby. I always said _please_ and _thank you_ when I was little, and I got gratification out of making others happy." "As I grew up and I learned about sex, and how much I enjoy it, I naturally became a submissive female. But when you are young - fresh out of high school and college age - and you are submissive, the wrong people can take advantage of you and your good nature. That is what happened to me." "I have told you about one of my ex-boyfriends, Jeremy... he used to _rent me out_ to others for a day or two at a time. He would charge people money - complete strangers, even - and then send me over to their house or hotel room, and I was expected to have sex with them. That... he did not care about me or my well-being. It made me angry, actually, and then I went through an endless string of bad relationships where things just kept getting worse." "I lived with a dominant couple for awhile - a husband and wife, and I was their house slave. They were much older than me. That ended horribly. I married a black man, Eddie, mostly because being with a black man made me feel even more submissive. That ended horribly, too. Everything always ended horribly, mostly because nothing was ever RIGHT to begin with. I was angry at life; I was mad, upset... and instead of being submissive, which is what I truly am and always should be, I put up a shield and became aggressive." "And when you first came to the island six weeks ago," I said to her, "you saw an 18-year-old girl in Lindsay who was scared and intimidated by all of the older women around her, and the whole theme of this place and what she knew it represented... and you wanted to take advantage of her just as others had taken advantage of you at the very same age." A lone tear seeped down Amy's face, but she glanced away to hide it from me. I reached out and cupped her chin, though, and brought her gaze back in line with mine. Amy sniffed her nose, then nodded her head in response. "This is why I do not want to see the dominant side of your personality ever again, Amy. It is not who you are, or who you want to be. It is disruptive and hurtful to others. You wanted to take an innocent girl - a virgin, noless - and scar her just as others have scarred you. You did not care about the long-term ramifications that your words, and especially your actions, were having on her." Amy was sobbing now. "Yes, it's true." She hung her head in shame and repeated, "It's true..." "Obviously you could sense that Lindsay had a submissive side to her personality, but you should have introduced her to the lifestyle in a much safer and more controlled way," I scolded Amy. "You told the girl you were taking her back to Cincinnati with you, and giving her to a group of five black men for them to use. That wasn't right, Amy." "I'm sorry..." "You should be sorry." Amy sniffed her nose and pined, "At least Lindsay has the proper guidance and is on the right track now. You have let Lindsay be submissive, Jeremy, and allowed her to explore that side of herself with you. You... you do a much better job of dominating her than I ever could." "I don't want you to tell anyone else about this, Amy," were my strict words for her. "I do not want you to repeat this conversation to anyone else. Trish would probably be very upset if she heard this. I know you have been getting along with her lately, but if Trish knew you treated Lindsay the way you did as a means to seek some sort of revenge for your own pain in life... that would make Trish horribly mad. I've never seen Trish mad, but she would fly off the handle. It would probably make Devon mad, too, for that matter." "I'm not really that way!" Amy cried, defending herself. "I just... I'm happy now. I'm happy. I have been taking my medicine, and I believe it is helping a lot. I have not had a drastic mood swing or disturbance since you took me to see the doctor. Most of all, though... I'm with you. I'm with you, Jeremy! That... that is the best medicine of all." The young woman wiped away a heavy influx of tears and added, "I know I can trust you with anything. I know you would never hurt me, although," Amy reached back and palmed her burning ass, saying, "that paddling was kind of painful." She forged a smile and cooed, "That was a good kind of pain, though... the right type of pain. I deserved it. But I know you would never hurt me, or take advantage of me, Jeremy. You... you have my best interests at heart." She paused, then mused, "You have everyone's best interests at heart." "Can't you see the big picture, though?" Amy declared. "I love you, Jeremy! I love you! You... you're the first and only man who has actually taken an interest in me as a human being. You are the first and only man who ever wanted to sit down and get to know me as a person... talk to me like I am someone meaningful and important. You... you listened to my thoughts and problems, and all you ever wanted to do was help. There was never anything in it for you, other than the desire to give me the help and guidance that you felt I needed." "There actually was something in it for me all along," I corrected her. "I had an ulterior motive. I did all these nice things, sweetheart, because I wanted something very badly from you. I wanted it more than you would ever know." Amy appeared puzzled. "What's that?" "Your love." With that, Amy began sobbing uncontrollably. She lost it. "YOU KEEP ASKING ME WHY!" Amy exclaimed, her emotions now reaching a fever pitch. "WHY do I want to submit to you? That is WHY right there! You brought my submissive side out from hiding with your warm nature and kindness, and now I just want to throw myself at you! I want to curl up in your arms, Jeremy, and I never want to leave them! I want to give up all power and control, and let you make the decisions for me, because I only feel safe and happy when I am with you..." "I'm your protector." "You're my knight in shining armor. You came to the castle on your white horse, and rescued me." I glanced downward for a moment and found myself lost in thought. Amy and I must have been the sight right now. She was in my lap, wearing what had become a disheveled French maid's uniform with her backside exposed, its skin a fiery shade of red. I had on a dress shirt but no pants to go with them, and of course Amy's mascara and general appearance was now in shambles thanks first to her punishment ordeal, then the heartfelt discussion we were having right now that brought even more tears and raw emotions for her to digest. Amy was the eager submissive who would do anything to please, yet I was the reluctant dominant. Yes, I was reluctant. This was all so new to me, and I was still learning. Even though there were things I found myself doing to Amy that made me uncomfortable and squeamish, her love and devotion for me - and the fact that she encouraged and welcomed it all - made me forge on. In the process, perhaps I was being introduced to a side of my own personality and demeanor that I never even knew existed until meeting this beautiful and remarkable woman? "I will probably only dominate you one or two times a week to start," I informed her. Amy smiled and nodded her head at me as I continued, "Kristanna is going to want to dominate and play with you as we move forward in our relationship and possible marriage with you down the road." "Don't marry me just to marry me, and say it's so," Amy requested. "I don't necessarily need to be married to you or Kristanna. I am simply happy being your submissive. I can go the rest of my life and be nothing more than your submissive - and I would be the happiest girl alive." "You're going to be my wife one day. One day very soon." Amy brought her hand to her midriff, rubbing it over and across the crinkly fabric of her French maid uniform. "I would love to cook and clean for you, Jeremy, and do chores around the house. That... it would make me happy. It would give me a daily purpose, and structure. I NEED structure in my life. You... you can't expect Louisa to be around forever, right? Can you? I would cook and clean for Kristanna, and even Devon and Trish as well. I would... I would love to be the maid. YOUR maid. The type of maid who gets down and scrubs the floor, then finds herself over your knee later that same day for missing a spot." Those words, not surprisingly, caused my cock to get hard again... "You're going to be content and satisfied if I dominate you - treat you rough and talk down to you - only once or twice a week?" I confirmed. "You're fine with that, Amy? I do not know I could do more than that, at least to start. Maybe in the future it will be more, but right now all I have in me are one or two times a week." Amy smiled. "I will be submissive to you, Jeremy... 24 hours a day, seven days a week... 365 days a year, for the absolute rest of my life. I will ALWAYS be submissive to you. What way you decide to treat me in return will be up to you. Whether you treat me like your loving wife - a la Kristanna, or a naughty, bratty slut," Amy smiled again, then pointed toward her soiled G-string upon the floor and finished the sentence, "with a pair of used panties stuffed in her mouth, I will love you, and I will be happy." "I love you as well, Amy Kathleen [Last Name]," was my proclamation, using all three of her names for an added flare. I found her lips with my own, and kissed her. "I love you more than you could ever possibly realize." When I brought both hands to her ass and squeezed it, Amy's entire body tensed and she hissed in response. She must have felt so incredibly vulnerable and exposed down there. But that, quite frankly, was not my concern. I kneaded and prodded her backside with my hands, cupping and squeezing the smoldering flesh with reckless abandon. "And I am going to take care of you, and protect you, from this point forward," I promised her. Amy was suddenly beaming with delight as I cradled her in my arms, then stood up from the chair. She hooked her own arms around my neck, then placed the side of her face upon my shoulder and sighed contently. I took a couple of steps, but then eased downward and gently set Amy upon the floor. When I motioned for her to recline onto her back, she did. "And I will follow you, Jeremy, and obey you from this point forward," was her vow to me. Those eyes of hers were gleaming and full of love, but soon they became wide as saucers as I took the panties and jammed them back into her mouth. I placed my finger across her lips and when Amy opened wide - perhaps on instinct - I drove it deep until she was gagging on the panties. I did not say a word as I grabbed both of her legs and spread them far apart. I then hooked them around my torso but Amy did the rest, linking her feet together and holding tight. An instant later, I entered her in the missionary position and immediately began a hard, rigorous thumping. The red-head never once took her gaze off of me as I dutifully thrusted my cock in-and-out of her sweet pussy. Still, I did not say a word. I did not even utter a sound. With Amy's own mouth completely muzzled, the only sounds throughout the suite were that of our bodies bumping violently together in a hard, blissful harmony. But Amy began to scream through her gag when I used my right hand to slap her left breast. I did it again, then used a back-handed motion for the other breast. I reached for the halter-like top of her French maid uniform and pulled it down, fully exposing those breasts (and ripping the fabric in the process). I slapped them both repeatedly, and now Amy madly rocked her face from side-to-side. Even with the panties still firmly entrenched in her mouth, I lowered my lips and kissed her there anyway. When Amy started to moan and pant, I moved my hand and brought it crashing down hard across her upturned ass. That was the final straw. Amy went rigid, and had an orgasm. I too, had reached the end of the line. I buried my cock in Amy and let my senses go, my body literally exploding as if a fireworks show was happening. I felt dizzy and my mind was in a haze, and I nearly passed out, but I snapped back to reality quick and now fiercely hugged Amy to me as my own orgasm subsided. I did not want to ever let her go, either. "Thank you, Jeremy," Amy sobbed, her body again trembling, as I withdrew the panties from her mouth. "Oh God... thank you so much. Thank you, Jeremy! Thank you! Thank you!" She returned the embrace, her arms tight and secure around me. "I love you, Jeremy! I love you!" Exhausted, I raised my head up long enough so I could make eye contact with Amy. My demeanor had flipped yet again, and now I spoke with authority in demanding, "Address me properly." "I love you, Master! Oh God, I love you so much!..." <<<- End of Chapter 39 ->>> ==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----== "Island Fever" (c) 2014 JeremyDCP - JeremyDCP@hotmail.com Feedback is always appreciated!