Chapter 8

After the incident with Jasmine's sister, life on the island returned to normal for a few weeks. I continued to minister to the staff's medical needs and a few times a week I shared Mr Foster's bed. His behaviour there was slowly becoming more aggressive and cruel with him insulting and humiliating me whenever it suited him and, looking back, I was pleased that I had been well trained by my Master in England before I had ever met Mr Foster as this had given me some insight into this lifestyle along with the realisation that it could be sexually stimulating for the submissive partner too. Outside the bedroom, however, I was still treated well by him and shown respect by the staff.

The only item of interest that occurred during this period was the promotion of PollyAnna who, due to the fact that the twins were very popular with the men, Mr Foster and the girls alike and also because they had seemed to become the natural leaders and spokespersons for the women on the island, they had their 'contract' bought from the brothel keeper they had previously worked for by Mr Foster and thus they became permanent residents on the island and were promoted to a newly created position of Head Girls. Other than this life went on pretty much as it usually did making boredom the main feature of my life. Socially, the evening get-togethers around the swimming pool were the high point of the day but the tediousness of life here, coupled to the ready availability of free alcohol, meant that arguments and fights were commonplace and the security chief, Fred Cunningham, often had his work cut out separating the antagonists - as did I patching everyone up afterwards.

It was at one of these evening gatherings around the pool that Mr Foster turned towards me, an odd glint in his eye as he looked me over before he beckoned one of the tarts to join us. The girl, a pretty thing only about five foot four tall, flounced towards us, the cups of her little bikini top filled to overflowing. "Stand next to each other, girls," he instructed both myself and the little hooker. Mr Foster stood back and looked the pair of us over while I wondered what he was up to but wishing that, whatever it was, he wasn't doing it out in public like this because I was getting just a little self conscious as everyone around the pool was staring in our direction. Then he approached the girl and weighted her breasts in his hands while she giggled and squirmed. Then he cupped my breasts too. "Now take your tops off, girls," he instructed us.

Louise, the little tart, had no compulsion about this and she whipped her bikini top away with a flourish, almost as if she were working as a stripper. I, on the other hand, was a little more recalcitrant. I mean, I had always been aware that I was rather under-endowed in the mammary gland department but I had always consoled myself that I more than made up for this in other areas. And, while I had spend lots of time here by the swimming pool topless, this rather more cold-blooded display was not quite in the same league as the naturalness and spontinuety of stripping off because that was what everyone was doing. However, I was also well aware that the boss didn't like to be kept waiting and I'd already learned how his anger often displayed itself in the form of physical punishment and so, with rather more reluctance that Louis, I too removed my top.

Standing there next to her, our boobs on display, it was blatantly clear that her DD sized jugs were much larger than my-just-about-B-ones-on-a-good-day versions. Larger and, to a man like Mr Foster, far more desirable. "So, lads," he called out loudly to his men, "whose titties do you prefer? Who turns you on the most?" Well, I already knew that most men prefer their women well endowed but I was also aware from personal experience that some do go for the more manageable size that I sported but I suspected that since their boss's taste was widely known around the poolside and since no-one wanted to offend him, it should have come as no surprise when the calls were almost unanimously for Louise. "That settles it, Carol - you're going to have a boob job."

More cheers from the men and some giggles from the girls.

"But Sir," I protested before being cut off by my boss who snapped that he didn't want to hear another word on the subject and, taking one look at his face, I decided to comply...

I didn't raise the matter for a few days until, over dinner one evening and with Mr Foster in a mellow mood because he'd had some good news from the UK (some heist or other had gone well and the haul had been more than expected) and since he'd had been drinking to celebrate, he was in a cracking, jovial mood. Since we were having freshly made spaghetti bolognaise, the Chianti was flowing like water and already several empty bottles had been removed by the waiting staff and carried off for disposal. Deciding that it was now or never, I took the plunge. "Mr Foster," I began nervously, toying with my hardly touched food. "You remember you were saying about me having a breast enhancement operation?"

"Of course I remember it, Carol. It's not a subject that I'm likely to forget."

"Well, medically speaking, it's not a very good idea. There's all sorts of things that can go wrong during the operation and that's before you consider the concerns about the cancer causing properties of the implants..."

"And I'm supposed to give a shit about that?" he replied, still smiling and tossing smirking glances at the faces of the other two men sat around the table.

"Well, no... but... well, I have my concerns..."

"And I don't. I like a woman with big tits and that's what you're going to have."

He wasn't smiling now and I should have taken the hint but I pressed on. "But I don't want to have that stuff put into me. I know I'm a little flat-chested but at least what I've got is all my own."

"No, Carol, whatever you have is mine to do with as I like," he hissed, his smouldering eyes boring into me.

"But you'll have to totally restock my wardrobe..."

With slow menace Mr Foster pushed back his chair and stood, his face like thunder. I knew I'd gone too far and so did everyone else in the room. Everything stopped, forks paused half way to mouths and you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Only Mr Haga seemed to be enjoying the situation as he licked his lips waiting to see what happened to me. I shook my head slightly as I watched my furious boss move around the table, his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to bring himself back under control. He almost managed it to for, once he reached my side, he didn't hit me or yank at my hair, his usual first instincts... instead he merely stood there breathing heavily, fighting with his temper before, with a sort of awful slowness, he pick up my barely touched bowl of spaghetti and meat sauce and tipped it down my cleavage. Luckily for me it had more or less cooled since it had been served but it was still warm as it slid over my breasts and down my stomach before settling mostly in my lap. I looked down at my soiled and stained skin along with the ruined gown and cringed. Then Mr Foster burst into laughter and returned, far more cheerfully, to his place and with the tension broken, Mr Cunningham and Mr Haga started to laugh too, the former with a certain stiltedness the latter more whole-heartedly. The two young prostitutes selected to be their companions tonight were less restrained than either and they laughed genuinely, thinking it such a wheeze to see the white women thus treated. I was made to sit at the table for the rest of the meal in that state as the sauce cooled and coagulated on me, the spaghetti stiffening and sticking to my skin. Dessert came and went, followed by coffee and liqueurs. At this point the women, me included, were normally chased out of the room while the men talked over their business and we awaited their presence in the lounge like good little girls until the males arrived to collect us and to take us to the bedrooms... but not tonight. No, the pattern was broken tonight and as the booze flowed and the time passed, I remained where I was, cringing and silent, the conversation flowing around me. Finally the boss grew tired of the game and I was permitted to leave and to clean myself up. By the time I had showered and changed, the dinner party had broken up and everyone had retired. Placing my ear to Mr Foster's bedroom door, I could clearly hear the muffled voices of my boss and PolyAnna playing together on the bed. Obviously I was not wanted in there tonight and so I returned to my own room and a lonely bed where I lay deep in my own thoughts, mulling over my impending breast implant operation trying to convince myself that there would be some positive aspects to all of this...

The afternoon after the dinner party, I was summoned back to the main house from the beach where I'd been sun bathing. I was told that it was my skills as a nurse that were needed but there was no need to rush as it wasn't an emergency Upon my arrival I was told to report to Mr Haga, the man in charge of the domestic staff, in his office. Pausing only to collect my kit and to change into my uniform, this I did.

Inside his office I found the man himself, PollyAnna and one of the girls whom I recognised as a new arrival who'd only been with us for a few days. The girl looked absolutely terrified and she constantly fidgeted and squirmed about, her eyes darting from one of us to the next unceasingly. "Ah, there you are, Nurse. I want you to give this woman a full physical examination and then to tell my how fit you think she is," Haga informed me in his detached, cold-blooded way.