“Don’t ever test me, little sub. Because you won’t like what happens if you do.”
8
The last rays of the setting sun cast a fiery golden glow over the Isle of Dreams, the waning light throwing a mystical, enchanted play of shadow over everything it touched. As the daytime island creatures settled down to sleep and flowers folded their colorful blooms to rest, brilliant stars began to peep through the dusky sky while the nighttime world came alive. Mistress Eve sat on the back patio of her private quarters in a comfortable chair with a small wrought iron table next to her on which her tea sat, and sighed as her thoughts crowded in. Stretching out her legs and resting her bare feet, crowned with scarlet-painted toenails, on a low, upholstered footstool, she picked up the teacup and sipped the comforting brew, feeling the warm breeze skim her shoulders and arms, exposed by her lacy black sleep camisole. With matching silk slip shorts edged in lace and her light brown hair twisted into a messy bun, face scrubbed clean, she was still the picture of sensual elegance despite her casual attire.
The day had been a busy one, not in the least due to the start of Ruthi Shay’s lessons in protocol. The director was starting her submissive service from ground zero. Eve already sensed that Ruthi would struggle with taking direction. Strongwomen routinely found it difficult to hand the reins of control to another, and Ruthi would be no exception.
While that was not at all uncommon and a challenge Eve had plenty of experience managing, what would be a potential landmine was the deep-seated psychological scars Ruthi carried from her breakup with Lynn Crawford. Thinking about what she had learned and what she now further suspected as a result, Eve’s eyes hardened as she considered what lay ahead as Ruthi navigated the treacherous waters of remembered betrayal.
Sipping her tea, she contemplated the information she had received from Antonia and Ms. Leighton after reporting back to them on her progress with Ruthi that evening. “What I can tell you for certain is that some kind of incident happened between Ruthi Shay and Lynn Crawford that brought Ruthi to her knees.” Ms. Leighton had steepled her fingers, relaxing back in her chair, as she shared what she knew with Eve. “I am unaware of the precise details. Right before the pair separated, however, Ruthi had disappeared for a short time. When she returned, rumors were swirling all over Hollywood about their breakup. Lynn had accused Ruthi of being abusive, then told everyone she had thrown her out of their house with only the clothes on her back.”
Eve had frowned, cocking her head to the side as she had taken in this new information. “That doesn’t sound like Ruthi, Ms. Leighton. Admittedly, she is cold, emotionless, and impatient. But to be deliberately cruel like that? From the little I have observed of her thus far, I sense she is not capable of that kind of behavior.”
“And you would be right, I believe. Antonia was able to learn a bit more about the destruction of their relationship as we were vetting Ruthi’s background.” Ms. Leighton had gestured to her assistant. “Would you care to tell Eve what you found out, Antonia?”
Taking up the tale, Antonia had leaned forward to rest sinewed forearms on her muscled thighs. “As it turns out, Lynn Crawford had been lying through her teeth. It took her a while, but eventually, Ms. Shay neatly turned the tables and struck back, proving that every single thing Ms. Crawford had accused her of was false. To that end, Ms. Shay ensured that Lynn Crawford was finished in Hollywood by the time she was done with her. Resuming her own career and soaring to even greater heights, she quite successfully recovered from the damage Ms. Crawford had done to her reputation. Ms. Shay sold her house in Beverly Hills, a place she alone owned, even though she and her ex had lived there together, and moved into an apartment close by, where she still lives today.”
“Thank you, Antonia,” Ms. Leighton had said, her gaze becoming slightly saddened as she gazed at the reflective Domme. “However, a changed Ruthi Shay emerged from the fire, Eve. Cold, emotionless, impatient, as you have already observed. She is all those things, a far cry from the personable woman she had once, by all accounts, been. Even worse, Ruthi is so untrusting now, the crater in her soul that dreadful experience has clearly left, whatever the details are that surround it, is such that she has sealed off the core of herself from everyone. Ruthi moves through life as though it will be over her dead body that anyone will ever again get close enough to her to hurt her the way Lynn had.”
And there, acknowledged Eve, shifting in her chair as she remembered their conversation,is the problem. The submissive soul residing inside Ruthi couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.Yet, getting her to the point where she can completely let go and sink into her submission in total trust, without holding anything back, with her history? Eve blew out a deep breath. Ruthi was much more likely to try and top from the bottom, which is what happened when a submissive took over andattempted to control a scene, rather than relaxing into it and respecting her Domme’s authority.
Her initial impulse was the same as many other Dominants would have: to handle Ruthi with kid gloves, to acknowledge her emotional fragility and step carefully, to avoid triggering her. A prevailing belief of many mental health sex therapists was that, if someone had a trauma history, kink should be off limits or greatly modified to avoid damaging them further. However, Eve knew without a doubt that when practiced with care and consent, kink could actually support emotional healing.
Better that Eve ripped the Band-Aid off and dominated Ruthi as she would any other new sub, keeping an eye on her reactions and monitoring her mental state, skillfully releasing her blocked emotions. All so the director could become a healthy and fulfilled submissive as soon as possible.
Drinking the last of her tea, Eve put her cup down, swinging her feet off the footstool. “Well, little one,” she said as she rose slowly to her feet. “So be it. Not only do you need to become the submissive you have always wanted to be, but it is also high time for you to take back whatever it was that cruel bitch stole from you. Hiding everything you are from the world because of fear and anger? No more, Ruthi Shay. Your Mistress vows to you that she will make this right, so you can live and love as the woman you once were, happy and free. On this, you have my word.”
Ms. Leighton satbehind her desk, the only light in her office coming from the slim brass lamp at her elbow and the blue glow of her tablet. The house was quiet, luxuriously and utterly quiet. It was the kind of hush that only came after midnight, when even the frogs in the garden seemed to lower their voices. She scrolled through the day’s incident reports, her reading glasses perched low on her nose, lips pursed in concentration.
Most of it was routine. Supply deliveries logged, guest requests fulfilled, and a minor power flicker in one of the guest bungalows had already been repaired. She tapped to the guest interaction summaries, her favorite part. Here, the staff’s notes were brisk but never without flavor. She smiled as she read the brief: Whitley, M. took an unexpected swim during site walk. Assisted out of pool by Lehman, K. Situation handled with humor. No injuries. Crew amused. Chemistry noted.
A short, delighted laugh escaped before Ms. Leighton could help herself. “Oh, Madeline,” she murmured, tracing a finger over the screen. She pictured it perfectly. Madeline, all limbs and nervous laughter, Kel hovering close, the sort of moment that, if properly nudged, could tip everything off its axis. “Chemistry: noted” indeed. She made a mental note that perhaps it was time to give Kel a little encouragement. The woman was loyal to a fault, but sometimes loyalty made for timidity.And timidity, Ms. Leighton thought.Rarely gets fantasies fulfilled.
She clicked over to the next entry. Shay, R. threw crew member from jeep to expedite return to main house. Proceeded directly to Eve’s cottage per private arrangement. No further information. Privacy protocols in effect for dungeon space.
Ms. Leighton arched a brow, amusement flickering at the corner of her mouth. So, Ruthi was willing to bulldoze anyone in her way if it meant getting to Eve faster. That, at least, was promising. Ruthi had always thrived on control, but her willingness to surrender it, even for a few hours, was a sign the fantasy might be taking root.
No cameras in the dungeon, of course. That was firm, a line Ms. Leighton would never cross, but she was curious. Progress with someone as armored as Ruthi Shay was never linear. It was likely to be two steps forward, one step back. She leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking quietly beneath her. Outside, the wind rattled the palm fronds against the high windows. Theday had gone as well as she had hoped. Small disasters, a few sparks, a little drama and a little laughter. All the raw materials of transformation. Setting her tablet aside, Ms. Leighton folded her glasses and pressed her fingertips together in thought. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would engineer a moment for Kel. A gentle push. A little chaos, just enough to force a choice. She smiled to herself. The Isle of Dreams delivered on its promises, but sometimes, even dreams needed a touch of orchestration.
The soundof water running was louder than it should’ve been. Madeline blinked, trying to orient herself in the half-dark. She was in her suite, she knew that. The white sheets tangled around her thighs, the subtle scent of plumeria drifting through the open balcony door. But the bathroom door was open, steam curling out, and someone was inside. Not only inside. Showering.
Confused, Madeline’s heart thudded as she slipped out of bed and moved to look in the bathroom. She caught a silhouette and realized it was Kel’s shape behind the glass, strong and lean, the lines of her back and thighs blurred by mist. She shouldn’t be seeing this. She should look away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Every nerve in her body sparked alive, a slow, pulsing ache radiating outward from her core.
The water stopped. Madeline’s breath caught as Kel stepped out, droplets tracing the sharp lines of her shoulders, her skin flushed pink from the heat. She looked at Madeline and for the first time, Madeline saw there was nothing careful or reserved in her eyes. Just hunger. Just want.
“You’re still awake,” Kel said, voice huskier than Madeline had ever heard before.
“I, um, couldn’t sleep,” Madeline managed, her own voice barely more than a whisper. She backtracked across the room,her camisole going askew, baring one shoulder. Kel followed. When she was close enough that their bodies almost touched, she cupped Madeline’s jaw, thumb tracing her cheek, and kissed her. Soft at first, then deeper, needier, like she’d been holding this in for years. Madeline gasped into Kel’s mouth, the sensation electric, her hands finding their way to Kel’s waist, sliding up warm, damp skin.
Kel tasted like heat and desire and something Madeline wanted to drown in. She pressed closer, against Kel who was naked. Gloriously, confidently naked. Madeline’s hands shook as she touched her hips, her back, the curve of her ass, every inch smooth and real and impossibly right. Kel’s mouth found her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder, nipping and soothing, and Madeline arched into her, desperate for more.
“Is this okay?” Kel murmured against her skin, fingers slipping under the strap of Madeline’s camisole.
“Yes. God, yes.” Madeline’s raw voice shocked her, now urgent, with no trace of old hesitation. Her clothes disappeared. She didn’t remember how, but suddenly her camisole was gone, her panties too, and Kel’s hands were everywhere. Palming her breast, tracing the line of her thigh, sliding between her legs. Madeline trembled as Kel’s mouth devoured her own, tongues tangling, kissing her until Madeline thought she might come apart simply from that. She moaned into Kel’s mouth and Kel swallowed it with another kiss.
Madeline’s world narrowed to the feeling of Kel’s body pressing her down, the heat of skin on skin, the way Kel’s name tasted on her tongue. She realized she was already close, her body arching, hips rolling, chasing that bright, impossible edge—
A knock, sharp and insistent at the door. Madeline froze. Kel stilled above her, eyes wide, breath hot against Madeline’s lips. The knock came again, louder. “Madeline?”
