Castaway Island
Copyright© 2025 by Taoman
Chapter 5
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Three women and a man are castaways on a Pacific Island after their plane crashes. This is a redo of my work, Master's Island, which I posted 25 years ago. The younger girls are both 19 now, and I have changed the pirates to a no ethnic specific description. The story has also been expanded and rethought.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Coercion Reluctant Slavery Heterosexual Fiction DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Harem First Oral Sex Big Breasts
The next morning, the sky was the color of tarnished steel. Thunder growled far out to sea.
Taylor was checking the signal letters at dawn when Kimberly marched up, Brittany and Jennifer trailing a few steps behind like ducklings.
“We need to talk,” she announced.
Taylor straightened. “Talk.”
“From now on, the girls work half days only. They’re not your laborers.”
Taylor glanced past her. Brittany looked pale; Jennifer looked uncomfortable.
“Kimberly,” he said carefully, “we’re five days in. Food’s almost gone. We have no fishing gear, no trap lines, and no garden. Half days mean half effort means we die slower instead of faster.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “They’re nineteen. They’re frightened. They need rest, not slavery.”
The word hit him like a slap. Slavery.
Something inside him went very quiet.
He looked at Brittany—still favoring the foot she’d hurt yesterday—then at Jennifer, who met his eyes this time with something close to apology. Then back to Kimberly.
“You think I enjoy this?” he asked, voice low. “You think I like watching nineteen-year-old kids blister their hands? I’m trying to keep us alive.”
“You’re trying to keep us under your thumb,” she fired back.
Thunder rumbled again, closer.
Taylor took one step toward her. “Tell me, Kimberly—what exactly is your plan? Sit in the sand and wait for a cruise ship to pull up with room service? Because that’s not happening. And when the food runs out completely, when the next storm comes, when someone gets sick—who’s going to carry them? Who’s going to find the medicine, build the raft, make the decisions?”
She didn’t back down. “Not by turning my sister into your mule.”