Chapter 2

The plane touched down just before noon. She normally disliked flying. It seemed as if the combination of government regulations, the apparent animosity of the airline to its customers and things like weather and air traffic all conspired to make the experience as unpleasant as possible. Today had been markedly different.

The flight attendants had actually been cheerful and at least tried to give the impression of being concerned. Or perhaps it was just her imagination.The flight departed on time. And of course as she got closer to her destination, the happier she became. She actually enjoyed the bizarre approach to the runway, as it caused the plane to bank around a mountain before straightening for a landing. The rickety terminal building with the 23 rope defined zig zags to get to immigration actually seemed to welcome her. She became a little anxious waiting at the baggage carousal, but that was just impatience. She had to remind herself that people here worked on "island time".

Customs was the usual "have a blessed day", with absolutely no concern for her bags, and she walked out of the terminal, porter with her bags stacked four high on a dolly closely following. And there, oblivious to the police trying to move traffic along and discourage people from waiting in front of the terminal was Robert in his beat up old Range Rover which to her at that point was the most beautiful conveyance in the world.

Robert helped her get all of her bags loaded – virtually all of her worldly possessions that had not been put in storage, and helped her into the car. Only then, before the traffic cop managed to beat a dent in the fender urging them to move on, did he turn to her, kiss her deeply and say "Welcome Home".

The trip was pure bliss. Even though she had made the same trip in the past, this was different. This time she was not a tourist heading to a resort hotel for a week long interlude. This time she was not leaving.

She loved the bright blues and greens and pinks of the buildings. Noting a cruise ship docked in the harbor she felt a pang of sympathy for those people. They would rush around the shops of the market area, try to find a "local" restaurant to sample island fare, then make their way back, to be herded onto the ship so that it could get back to international waters in time to open the casino. Then in a few days they would be back at their jobs or school, or taking care of their suburban homes.

She felt truly grateful that those things were no longer a part of her life!

Finally, ferry ride and the navigation of the tiny streets of the town behind them, they were climbing the zig-zag dirt track that led to Sugar Cane.

When they arrived, James appeared to take her bags into the inn. Out of nowhere, Cecille was there. Forgetting her normally reserved demeanor for the moment they embraced, Cecille letting her know how glad she was that she had returned, even admitting that she had missed her.

She had both eaten and slept for a while on the plane, so just asked if she could go to her room and freshen up. Cecille took her by the arm and led her into the inn.

There was a moment of uncertainty – of trepidation - until she realized that Cecille had taken her to Robert's room. She stood in the middle of the room, taking it in. Of course she had been here before, but merely as an overnight guest – to depart the next morning.

She was just thinking how happy she was when Robert, having followed them spoke up from behind her.

"I hope it wasn't too presumptuous of me to assume that this room would be acceptable. I hope that I haven't overstepped myself."

She didn't say anything – just rushed over to him and embraced him and gushed. Nothing else was necessary right then. She was home.

"Well you can freshen up a bit if you like, then perhaps we can relax a bit."

She decided a shower and a change of clothes would be great. As Robert and Cecille left, she unpacked a bag to get fresh clothes out and got into the shower.

Feeling much better and more relaxed after the shower, she dressed quickly and made her way to the main part of the building. Just being there felt so damned good! The small dining room, the intimate little bar. It was as if she had never left.

She knew where to find Robert – he was relaxing on the veranda, enjoying the view of the ocean in the distance, sipping on a drink. He offered her a glass of the concoction - a blend of local fruit juices.

"Robert you just don't know how good it is to be back" Cynthia started.

"I'm just glad that you're here and decided to come back to me pretty lady. I have looked forward to this since you left.

You belong here, and believe it or not, I've known in my heart since the first day you asked to be locked up, and stepped into that cell, that you and I would be together."

They say quietly for a while, then Robert offered: "It will be few days before the workers can get to us to begin the renovations. In the meantime, I really do believe you should receive a proper welcome home."

Robert did not even give her a chance to question what he meant, but just continued, in a conversational tone.

"Would you please be so kind as to stand and strip completely for me love?"

He had caught her completely off guard. It was unexpected. So soon. But she found herself wordlessly complying. She set her drink down, stood and began unbuttoning her blouse, pulling it and folding it on the table.

Reaching behind, all under Robert's casual gaze, she unfastened her bra, setting it too aside. The shorts came next. Perhaps presciently she had chosen not to wear panties. As she straightened from bending to remove her shorts she notice Cecille standing, waiting patiently.

Cecille in her haughty dark beauty.

In one hand she held leather cuffs, in the other a long heavy leather strap. Her fate had obviously been both planned and preordained.

Neither woman spoke. No words were necessary. Robert just sat back and watched the interplay as Cecille fastened the leather straps on her wrists and ankles.

Leading her over to the railing of the veranda, Cecille produced straps that Cynthia noticed for the first time. They were attached to the supports.

After attaching a strap to each cuff, and a great deal of tugging and tightening, Cynthia found herself standing near the railing, looking out over the manicured lawn below the veranda, and stretched as tight as she could have ever imagine. Her shoulders and hips ached from the strain, and she knew it would only get worse.

She realized that she was fully displayed in all of her spread glory to anyone that walked by. She noticed for the first time that James was on the other side of the lawn, trimming hedges. He stopped to glance at her – noting almost casually the beautiful naked woman stretched helplessly on the veranda. He just went back to work. This was, after all, The Sugar Cane Plantation.

Cecille stroked her flank and ass lightly, not so much in affection, though Cynthia hoped there was some of that there, but more as in sizing up and studying her subject.

Without any further warning or pause, the strap came crashing down on her back. The impact took her breath away as she felt the agony of the stroke. The next was lower, at the very top of her ass, then the fleshy part of her buttocks.

Another caught her at mid back, but Cecille had stepped closer for this one and the end of the strap wrapped, catching the side of her breast.

Until that stroke she had been able to confine her sounds to moans. When the end of that brutal strap snapped into her breast she screamed. Cecille did not stop. Her ass, the backs of her thighs – even the backs of her calves felt the strap.

The strap was brutal. As she felt it hit her legs she knew there would be bruises and that it would be a while before they would disappear.

Finally it stopped. She felt and sensed before she heard Robert close behind her.

"Do you know why I've had you whipped sweet lady?" he asked gently. She sobbed and shook her head – confused, bewildered, aroused. She couldn't even figure out what she felt.

"Because I can. Because you have to know that you are mine. And because I love you" he said and as she turned her head, kissed her deeply.

"And now I believe that our lovely Cecille has her own present for you"

Cecille stepped behind her, the touch of her blouse on Cynthia's punished back painful. This time when she stroked the captive woman it was clearly meant to be erotic and teasing. She leaned down and kissed her deeply, letting her tongue dance between Cynthia parting lips.

Cynthia tried to reciprocate, but the awful strain on her stretched arms made it almost impossible. Stepping behind her, Cecille began to stroke the tortured ass, letting her fingers lightly dance between the cheeks, then drift lower.

Cynthia moaned as she felt Cecille's fingers lightly graze her pussy, so accessible with her legs spread as wide as they were.

Cecille felt her start to rock her pelvis as much as the tight straps allowed. She paused only to start again. Teasing, probing, then pausing.

Cecille whispered in her ear, lightly kissing her neck as she stroked her sex: "Remember where I told you my strap would kiss you when you came back?"

Cynthia looked back at Cecille and saw that she had replaced the heavy leather strap with a far thinner one, but one that split into two vicious looking ends.

She gasped and started to moan, but nodded her head.

"Ask for it Ms. Cynthia. Ask me for it the way you did when you left."

The memory appeared in her mind – standing with Cecille next to the car. Hating so much to leave.

Cecille reaching out to stroke between her legs, promising her the strap when she saw her again. The image, along with Cecille's fingers still stroking the lips of her pussy, lightly probing between, was bringing on that all too familiar and overwhelming rush of lust and submission.

She could no more refuse to answer than she could have melted the polar icecaps.

"My cunt Cecille. I need you to strap my pussy. Please whip my cunt"

Almost before she uttered the last words Cecille had stepped back and with a snapping motion brought the nasty little ends of the straps snickering into the soft folds of Cynthia's sex.

She screamed at the first stroke, not believing anything could hurt her so intimately, so badly, and didn't stop screaming until Cecille stopped.

In the midst of it she remembered looking over her shoulder to see Robert relaxed but intently watching his woman being whipped. Her screams did not appear to bother him. She had long since stopped caring who heard her screams out in the bright tropical afternoon.

When Cecille stopped, she stepped back and stroked Cytnhia's face and hair gently, then without speaking began loosening the straps. She found she was not able to stand and as the straps came undone and she started to crumple to the floor, she felt Robert's strong arms holding her. At the point she could not remember anything, ever, making her feel so good, so safe and so secure.

Ceceille and Robert took her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed, face down. Robert whispered something to Cecille that Cynthia could not hear, and left.

She felt Cecille on the bed next to her, kneeling, then felt cold liquid spreading all over her back, her ass and her legs. She whimpered as fingers began to stroke the brutalized skin, but Cecille shooshed, her, telling her to relax, this is would make it feel so much better.

Slowly, under the gentle fingers and the liquid, her skin began to soothe. She still hurt, but the fiery pain was subsiding. Cecille began to lightly massage her aching and burning legs, working her way down to the calves, then back up. It actually felt good.

Cecille stopped momentarily to pushed a pillow under her hips, she arched them to help, not really knowing why or understanding, or caring. The soothing and gentle massage after her whipping was sending her far away.

Robert's words came back to her over and over again. "I'm having you whipped". Not "I'm whipping you, or you are being whipped". "I'm having you whipped", as one would a prized possession. Then, "Because I love you and you belong to me". No words had ever made her feel more wanted.

Cecille continued her gentle massage, now though her fingers were lightly rubbing her ass, at the tops of her thighs, where the strap had caught her several times. She moved to the crack her her ass, lightly rubbing the liquid around in a circular motion, soothing the skin, letting her fingers drift lower each time she complete a circle.

Soon Cynthia could feel the fingers teasing lightly at the juncture of her thighs.

It felt so good. Almost without thinking about it, just enjoying the moment she let her legs slip apart, moaning softly as she felt the fingers slip between. Soon she felt Cecille's fingers, slippery and warm lightly rubbing the lips of her pussy. She sighed and spread her legs further, wanting to give her ebony tormentress better access.

Pouring more of the soothing liquid onto the scorched flesh, Cecille gently stroked and teased that which she had not long before tortured with her strap.

Cynthia moaned freely as she felt Cecille's finger nudge her labia apart and slip into the dark, hot folds. She could feel the finger probing, searching, then finding her opening. Her own growing wetness enabled it to slip inside her effortlessly and she gasped as she was penetrated. Ceille probed deep inside her with now two fingers, letting her thumb lightly tease the exposed asshole.

She was aroused from the whipping and Cecille's fingers were working their magic. She felt the familiar thrusting of her hips - almost involuntary - as her pussy responded to being filled and stretched.

She gasped out loud when she felt Cecille's tongue flick around her now opening labia, and probe between. Now she understood the pillow – it caused her ass to be pushed up, giving her dark skinned lover better access. She felt the thumb force it's way past her sphincter, and slide into her ass at the same time the tongue licked and twirled around her clit. Cecille backed off, pausing.

Cynthia hear a voice from the distance, before realizing that it was her own, begging... "Noooo, please don't stop".

Cecille obliged her. Finger went back deep inside the now needing vagina, but she had moved her mouth up and probed at Cynthia's sensitive asshole with her tongue. As the tip of the tongue twirled and probed and just started to penetrate her asshole, Cynthia felt the fingers inside her spread and stretch her open. She came violently, shaking and crying.

She lay on the bed, Cecille lightly stroking her hair and face. She was dead. This was heaven. There was nothing else.

For all of the interminable months she had waited for this. The total, blissful satisfaction and exhaustion that can only come from a pain induced trip to sub-space, and to then be taken beyond with a mind-shattering orgasm.

Later, after a diner of rock lobster and salad, all three of them found themselves on the veranda. Robert had made it clear that Cecille would take a significant role in the new project, consequently she was not only welcome to, but needed to participate in the planning and discussions.

They had spent last couple of hours reviewing building plans, budget projections, marketing ideas and the overall scheme of how a confinement and bondage facility as Cynthia had dubbed it would operate.

Robert mentioned that there would be a few days delay in getting workers started, and that he had to go tomorrow to meet with the architect. He then announced that it was time to relax a bit.

The three of them sat back and enjoyed the warm evening air and each other's company. Cynthia looked a little surprised when as Robert offered the humidor, Cecille also took one.

She glanced at Cynthia and said simply, "Robert has been corrupting me. No, actually I noticed how much the two of you seemed to enjoy them, so I decided to try and found that I liked it. Nothing like smoking a cigarette which was my vice in school."

The pleasant evening had it's effect. Cecille excused herself, and as she rose, leaned over Cynthia and kissed her. Cynthia returned the kiss, looked in her eyes and just said "Thank You"

When they were alone, she and Robert talked for a while longer. About hopes and dreams for Sugar Cane. About the renovations. Finally Cynthia found herself both tired and restless again. All of this could wait – there was forever.

Slipping a hand seductively inside her blouse, rubbing the top of her breast as Robert watched, she suggested they might think about retiring.

"You had your woman well whipped while you watched today. Don't you think it's time you took her to bed and fucked her just as well?"

Robert needed no further encouragement. They walked hand in hand to his – no –their bedroom.

The next day Cynthia found herself lazing in bed, enjoying her first morning back at Sugar Cane. Robert had already gotten up and she could hear the water running in the shower. He came out and was getting dressed when after a short knock, Cecille entered with a tray of coffee, croissants and fruit.

"Cecille I thought we discussed what I needed you to help with on our venture. And it does not include being a chambermaid. Is there no one else that could have done that?"

"Of course Mr. Robert", she answered, "I just enjoy it and wanted to bid you and Ms. Cynthia a blessed morning".

Cynthia could not but smile at that. "Just what kind of church, or pastor or whatever, where Cecille might have been raised would be wishing a blessed morning to someone they had just the day before severely whipped?"

"Just one of the many contradictions and anomalies that littered not only Sugar Cane but their lifestyle. It was just amusing...

She heard Robert explaining that he was going to town for a while to meet with the architect as well as a metal work fabricator who would be making the bars for the cells.

Since the work had been postponed for a few days, they were free to relax as there was nothing pressing that had to be done. He would return late afternoon.

Cynthia busied herself with unpacking the rest of her bags, putting things away. She tried to relax a little bit, and every time she took a break and looked out over the ocean far below, stretching off into the distance, she had to pinch herself. She was really here. She did not have to leave.

Her reverie was interrupted when Cecille came in and asked if she was busy. Robert had called from the architect's office and need measurements from the slave quarters confirmed. It would be easier if the two of them did it together.

Happily she followed Cecille to that now infamous doorway, and into the gloom inside. It seemed like so long ago that she had first walked through this long room with Robert, completely oblivious as to what awaited her.

This was the room that Robert had decided to convert into the cell block, for want of a better term, that Cynthia had envisioned. They would be able to put ten small cells along the walls. At the front, closest to the door would be room for a "reception" room where "guests" could go over final arrangements for their stay, confirming their preferences, signing releases, and so forth.

The cells would be of different sizes. Some would be barred. Others, smaller would be completely closed in, These would be the punishment cells that were used to impose discipline.

Some of the cells would be separated by walls, allowing occupants some privacy at least from people in adjoining cells. Others would be barred on three sides resulting in total exposure at all times.

Robert had commended her on the manner in which she had thought it through and planned it. She had replied that only a bondage slut such as herself could appreciate the whole thing.

In any event, Robert wanted to confirm the lengths of the proposed walls. Ceceill had brought a tape measure and paper. The two of them began measuring the room, the walls, distance between the barred windows and so on.

Finally when they were all done, they lingered a bit. Cecille intimidated with the history of the place, Cynthia flashing back to fond memories in the rooms next door.

Cynthia watched quietly as Cecille walked to the end of the room and opened the door to the adjacent rooms – where the existing cells, the whipping post and the breeding rack waited. Cynthia said nothing as she silently followed the tall dark woman.

"You can't get it out of your mind can you?" she asked. Cecille was standing in the middle of the room, fixated on the wood and metal and leather contraption on which she had been fastened when Cynthia had blundered in.

"No, I can't Ms. Cynthia I don't know why. The history, its purpose, the way it demeans and degrades a woman are all terrible. It should disgust me. And on my poor girl from the island who went and got educated and uppity level, it does. I ask myself why I don't insist to Robert that he tear this thing out of here and burn it. Why he doesn't let such a black, dark page of our history just die"

Cynthia had stepped behind Cecille and lightly put her arms around her. "But?"

"But you know perfectly well. You've been on it. You know what it does. You know how it literally allows you to be free!"

You are right. I have been on it. So have you.

You and I share the same cravings, even if you won't admit it. That day when I stumbled upon you and James, there were several things that I noticed in the brief time that I had to observe you before left.

Things by the way that I enjoyed too much to forget."

Most important Cecille, I noticed your arousal. And before you say anything, don't try to say it had to do with you and James getting ready to have sex. You and he could have gone anywhere and made love. You, and I know it was not James' idea. You chose to come here, and you chose to have him strap you on the rack. You knew the position"

As she spoke she had let her hands move gently from Cecille's waist, up the front and was lightly stroking her breasts through her blouse and bra. Cecille was certainly not objecting and in fact was leaning back against Cynthia.

"You were on the rack because you knew how helpless and exposed you would be. You knew that once the straps were tightened down, every private and personal part of you would be open and available, and Cecille, just like me you craved it then and you still crave it"

Cecille shook her head, but said nothing and reached over her head to grasp Cynthia face behind her. The motion pushing her breasts more firmly into Cynthia's hands

"If I reached under your skirt inside your panties Cecille, how wet would I find your sex right now?"

Cecille just moaned and turned to kiss Cynthia. She looked into her eyes for a moment, then kissed her again, embracing her and holding her tightly.

"Please Ms. Cynthia I do need it. I don't know why I crave it. I don't care any more. Will you show me and take me where I need to go?"

"No Cecille. Later, I would love nothing more that to share with you these delightful experiences, from both sides. Cecille had turned back around and was again enjoying having her breasts played with.

Before I returned, when I was on the webcam and you were watching me, and ordered me to clamp my clit, I was so incredibly wet!

My pussy still hurts from the whipping you gave it yesterday, and I thank you for that.

One day I will return the favor.

There is a table in the other room ideally suited for it, and soon, I know I will have you on it – tightly strapped down, legs tied far, far apart, over your head. I think hearing you, my lovely lady scream will be delightful."

She paused to unbutton the blouse beneath her hands and slip her fingers inside, lightly brushing the tops of Cecille's breasts above her bra.

"But you have your demons to slay, and if you don't slay them, they'll cripple you forever.

You need to let yourself go and experience what you crave at the hands of Robert.

Robert the plantation master that you fear so. Robert that I love. Robert that adores you and would do anything for you. Robert who will take you down this path if you will just trust him and let him."

Cecille was moaning slightly as she stood with her head leaning backward on Cynthia's shoulder, feeling Cynthia's fingers slide under the top of the bra to graze her nipple.

"Anything else that you do, will leave you wondering and wanting.

Trust Robert.

He may hurt you physically, and I suspect that you hope that he will. But he will protect and cherish you emotionally and make sure that no harm comes to you."

Cecille said nothing, just leaned back, enjoying having her breasts and nipples stroked and teased, but her mind in a turmoil

"What if it doesn't work as you say? What if when it's over I can't tolerate Robert and have to leave? What if I like it too much? You have no idea how these things scare me."

"Cecille, we all have to trust each other and go forward.

Think about it.

I've trusted Robert with my life savings.

Robert has put Sugar Cane at risk based on my idea. He knows that if it doesn't work, he could end up losing it when he can't pay the mortgage.

He has put his faith in you and made you a partner in this venture because he believes in you and treasures your loyalty. How can you not trust that neither Robert or I would ever allow any harm to come to you."

"But I would never pressure you. Robert would never pressure you. Do you think for one second that Robert has not already realized your turmoil. Realized that in making you part of our little enterprise, you are having to deal with the master/slave relationship that oozes from these walls?"

"Cecille you need to make your own peace. Neither I nor Robert will ever mention it. Remember, they're your demons. You have to kill them".

Cecille said nothing, but she stepped away from Cynthia and turned. Cynthia thought she would hug and embrace her, but the ebony beauty, standing about three feet in front of her slowly and deliberately proceeded to undress.

Cynthia had never seen her naked from the front. She was stunning. Tall, over five feet ten inches – slender and very, very well proportioned. As she stood naked in front of her, Cynthia could only admire her. She wanted very badly to take her into her arms, but she waited to see what Cecille would do.

Cecille walked over to the nearest cell, stepped inside, and slammed the door. The keys were well out of reach, she had taken the first step.

Peering out from between the bars she said to Cynthia "I want to sample it before I jump over the cliff. I believe everything you say, and believe me there is no one that I trust more than Robert. No one, since my parents died many years ago has been as good to me as he has."

Let me be here this afternoon. Leave me here as long as you choose, I only ask that you release me before Robert returns. I think this will help me make the decision I have to make."

Cynthia understood. But a refinement was needed. She picked up two pairs of handcuffs and motioned Cecille over to the bars. She cuffed each of her hands to a bar of the cell, About five feat apart.

"I will be back to fetch you well before Robert comes back.

But since you've decided this would help you come to grips with your issues. I've decided that first, I don't want you getting too comfortable. Second, I don't want you to be able to look at anything but the breeding rack in from of you. And finally, since you placed yourself at my mercy for a least a bit, I don't want you masturbating."

Cecille started to protest that she would never. Cynthia told her to hush and press her body against the bars, legs spread. She obeyed, the role she had put herself in simply by slamming the door taking over.

Cynthia reached down and stroke the black haired pussy, letting her fingers spread the hair and then the lips. With her other hand she reached through the bars, grabbing the back of Cecille's head and pulling her face to the bars.

Kissing her deeply while she teased her pussy, she savored the captive woman. Breaking the kiss she held up the fingers of the hand that had delved into the imprisoned woman's sex – they were glistening with wetness.

"Perhaps you would and perhaps you wouldn't my beautiful lady. But I'm thinking that staring at the rack the rest of the afternoon is either going to repulse you, or make you very, very aroused. Let's just say if there is arousal, I've made sure that you will remain aroused and frustrated until I come back for you"

Turning and leaving Cecille naked, cuffed to the bars was incredibly difficult. She wanted nothing more than to take her back to the inn and spend the afternoon with her in that big soft bed.

But there was work to be done. She made her way back to the inn where in Robert's office she scanned the notes and measurements they had jotted down and emailed them to the architect. She decided to finish unpacking, then wandered outside.