She’d promised not to use her phone, and she had. She’d promised not to touch herself without express permission, and she had. Just because no one caught her, did that make it okay? By cutting those corners, as small as they might be, who was she really hurting?
If you’re going to do this thing, then do it all the way. Otherwise, you might as well just hang out on the beach and go to the parties. Maybe it’s not too late to opt for the BDSM lite package.
Even as she entertained this possibility, she rejected it. While the day had been challenging, some parts downright unpleasant, she was poised on the edge of something big. She could either give up, take a step back and admit she was too cowardly to truly submit. Or she could take a step forward, putting her whole heart and soul into the exploration of her true submissive nature.
Closing her eyes, she visualized standing on the edge of a cliff, high above a vast canyon filled with infinite possibility. Opening her fledging submissive wings, she leaped…
Chapter 7
“Good morning,” a female voice, entirely too chipper for the crack of dawn, called from the door. “Time to get up. Make sure to groom—no stubble allowed. You can either wear sneakers or go barefoot. If you’re not used to working out on the sand, I’d recommend the sneakers. We’ll meet in the kitchen at 6:30 sharp for a snack before exercise and positions training on the beach.
Skylar squinted in the sudden bright light. She had been in the middle of a particularly satisfying dream. It took her several seconds to process where she was, who was speaking and what they’d said.
Maya stood in her doorway dressed in a sports bra and tiny shorts, sneakers on her feet. Skylar lifted herself on her elbows, still getting her bearings. “Just sneakers?”
“You can wear a hat if you want, but trainees remain naked unless otherwise instructed. Don’t worry—Ben and Janie will be right there with you. It’s no big deal.” She glanced down the hallway. “Which reminds me. I need to get them up, too. See you in thirty.”
Skylar rolled out of bed and stretched. The sun was barely up, the sky streaked with pink and gold, the shore still in shadow. Drawn to the beautiful view, she opened the sliding glass door to let in the fresh, cool sea air. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, peace pervading her soul.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and stared at the endless waves rolling toward the shore, the sound peaceful and reassuring. Something about this place just felt so right. There was no honking traffic, sirens or garbage trucks with squealing breaks outside her apartment window. The pervading sense of vague dread that always colored her mornings during the workweek was blissfully absent. She didn’t have to put on her boring work clothes and rush to the morning rah-rah pep talk meeting at the office before heading out to try and drum up new business and handle the complaints of existing customers. If she never had to do that again, it would be absolutely fine with her.
What would it be like to be an island staff slave? To live on this beautiful, secluded island full time, surrounded by people who were dedicated to the lifestyle? To be owned by Master Caelan…
“Don’t be stupid,” Skylar said aloud. It was insane to be thinking about making such a major life change after barely a day on the island. And anyway, it was probably next to impossible to get a position. The competition to work there was probably fierce. As for belonging to Master Caelan, she was getting way, way ahead of herself, and she knew it.
Still, a girl could dream…
Glancing back at the small clock by the bed, she slid the door closed and hurried into the bathroom, turned on the shower and used the toilet. Steam fogged the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Selecting a fresh disposable razor from a drawer filled with them, she took it, along with the bottle of baby oil, and climbed into the tub.
Positions training on the beach. That sounded intriguing. She imagined some kind of BDSM Tai Chi, with naked slaves executing graceful movements in unison. Grace, unfortunately, had never been one of Skylar’s strong suits. She’d flunked out of ballet in fifth grade, too clumsy to handle all the toe pointing and pivoting. What the hell—she’d give it her best shot.
Out of the shower, she toweled herself and blew her hair dry. Remembering Maya’s ministrations the day before, she dabbed some rouge on her nipples and applied a bit of makeup. Returning to the bedroom, she quickly made her bed and then put on her slave collar, a pleasant thrill of anticipation moving through her body as she did so. She quite liked the feeling of the leather around her throat. It put her into an instantly submissive state of mind. And it looked sexy, too.